faderift | [ OPEN ] And I'm on tonight you know my hips don't lie and I'm starting to feel it's right

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[ OPEN ] And I'm on tonight you know my hips don't lie and I'm starting to feel it's right

WHO: Zevran, His Kestrels, and You
WHAT: Music, Dance, Shenanigans
WHEN: Current
WHERE: The Herald's Rest
NOTES: It's Zev and dancing. There might end up being shiftlessness, seductions, and intoxication.

[ The Learning ]

It wasn't an intentional lesson, this. There was music, there was wine, there was talk of dancing in the small cleared space between tables. Tossing about ideas of what to play, how to dance, when Zevran made mention of a method of training oneself to isolate movement that was more or less a dance and the younger Kestrels (all but Settimo) expressed their interest. He sent Vitta to gather a few coin covered scarves and belts in all manner of colors from his room and gathered the rest to walk them through it.

Anyone else that was curious might join in, Zevran was something of a hands on teacher, adjusting posture with a hand to the plane of a back, the curve of a hip, showing with his own demonstrations as much as by moving his students by feel so they knew how it was to stand, to move, to roll. Little things, hip rolls, undulating like a snake, how to pop one's hip or hold one's shoulders still while the legs and hips do their work- these he went through as best he could before Vita returned and he offered a proper demonstration.

[ The Dancing ]

After a quick duet, all rolling hips and wide, flirtatious smiles, the Kestrels took turns dancing either on their own or with someone else that had expressed interest. Zevran, likewise, was content to either offer pointers here and there or dance alongside- or against- anyone that would have him. There was wine, there was music, there was warmth in the building and he could think of no better reason than to attempt to have a good time. The show seemed more than enough for those that didn't wish to participate on their own- apparently anything was a good change of pace from Maryden's ballads now and then.

[ The Mending / The Resting ]

Learning to bend oneself in new and exciting ways, to move or not move as one willed- it could create soreness or the occasional sprain if one was not careful. Teresa took time away from the dancing and the drinking to tend to any that might have twisted something they should not, had slipped and fallen or overextended a limb in an attempt to learn this manner of dancing. Or, more often, to offer glasses of either watered down ale or water proper to those taking a break from all the dancing. Zevran himself would flop down on a chair time to time, shirtless and sweating, watching the group with a crackle of laughter. Now this? This was living.

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"This is all I can have. With anyone," Cyril says. His voice is certain and he leans a bit into the touch. The fact that Zevran will never ask for more is one of the reasons Cyril feels so safe with him.

"Mhmm." His eyes narrow somewhat. "Because your heart belongs to someone you cannot have, or you do not wish to offer it to anyone else?

Cyril raises his brow a bit. "Because I'm Dalish," he says. And he really is going to steadfastly ignore anything implied by the idea that his heart belongs to anyone. "Eventually I'll have to continue the blood line. Eventually I'll have a wife, and children."

"So after this you intent to return to the Clan, bond with someone you may or may not care for, raise children together, and live in the woods until the end of your days." This is Zevran's believing face. "Right."

Cyril crosses his arms a bit. He's trying really hard to pretend like all of this is no big deal, but Zevran can probably see through that pretty easily. He feels like there's an odd lump in his throat he can't swallow. "Why do you think I work so hard to experience every pleasure I can now?"

"Because you feel as though you must and it was a terribly convenient excuse when you still believed your own bullshit." Which he might- but Zevran? is not buying what Cyril is attempting to sell himself. "Merrick, I think, will not be returning. Clan life seems to have suited him ill."

Cyril honestly feels like his heart has been stabbed and for a moment he just looks away from Zevran towards were people are still having fun and enjoying themselves. "You're probably right," he says. "Maybe Metaari can travel with him, show him the world. He's gotten really good at helping Merrick through his bad times." Then he looks over at Zevran again, because he's had the moment to steel his expression.

"What is bullshit about wanting to follow at least some of my traditions? I already fail at so many of them, the ones I can follow I should." He frowns a bit, furrowing his brow. He is being honest, even if it's not all of the truth, and it's things he's never expressed to anyone before. To have someone listen and not believe him hurts, a lot. It's even worse because it's Zevran, who has always made him feel accepted and understood.

He supposes that he shouldn't be too shocked though. Zevran doesn't owe him kindness.

"The bullshit is not wanting it, Cyril. If that would truly bring you joy and that is how you wish your life to go after the Inquisition? Swear it is so and I will drop the matter." He leans against the nearest beam, arms crossed, eyes intent on Cyril's face but- not entirely unkind. Facing these things is never easy. Perhaps he is being terribly presumptuous to say such things, to attempt to make a point.

As though he has any right to point out what it is that he sees.

"Bullshit is wanting it because you feel obligated to want it regardless of your personal desires. Besides, by the traditions of the Dalish- every one of you that have joined the Inquisition is now, more or less, outclan are you not? Returning is not permitted." Whether that holds true for all clans he cannot say.

"Our Keeper kept an extra mage near her fire because she couldn't bare to let one of her plague children go," Cyril points out. "I'm certain I could return." He offers Zevran a small smile, as if there's nothing to worry about.

Is it what he really wants? Is it something that would bring him joy? Probably not. He wouldn't exactly be unhappy though. It would be a quiet sort of contentment, the knowledge that he did at least one thing the right way. It's not a future he's rushing towards while skipping and singing, but it's one he's certain he'll do all right with. He really doesn't want to dwell on any of this though, nor the way his chest still feels like it aches. He came here to watch dancing and maybe take someone handsome to bed, not to contemplate his future. If the evil darkspawn magister wins, there won't be a future to worry about either way.

Cyril sighs a bit and presses a little closer to Zevran, crossing just a hair away from his personal space. He tilts his head up a bit and the angle plays perfectly on his features. He's regained control of his emotions, settled back into a slightly flirty, open expression. "Why don't you tell me the point you're trying to make so that we can go back to the dancing and not end the night cold and alone?"

Edited 2016-04-19 05:00 (UTC)

"Stop that." Not teasing but not chiding either, simply flat and distinctly unamused. This must be what it is like to talk to him when he wishes to evade the question or the subject. He makes a mental note to apologize to Mia, Alistair-

To everyone, more or less. It is exactly as irritating as they made it seem.

"You are more than this and we both know it. Let the mask go a moment, I am attempting to have a serious conversation. Me. Zevran. Attempting to be serious. You could at least do me the courtesy of humoring me for a few moments more, yes?" How often did he do this thing? Never. The answer is never.

Cyril steps back then and gives Zevran some space. He drops the flirtatious spark in his expression. He takes a deep breath to brace himself.

As much as he claims he adores Zevran for the fact that they are so casual there are only a few people who could get him to drop the act so quickly. Maybe he's just vulnerable from the subject matter being too close to home. More likely Zevran has earned that respect.

"All right," he says. "Let's talk."

"I worry for you." A beat. "Things I never thought I would say for so many people and yet, here I am."

He will need a drink after this for certain. "I look at you and see myself a decade ago- with less baggage and scars and not quite as pretty-" He kids, he actually reaches out to squeeze Cyril's hand to show that he kids- but he kids. "But myself none the less. Caught in the midst of something larger, reluctant to be serious about anything. Why it is you are less honest with yourself about what it is to want something- and what it is you want? I do not know. I have my excuses, I will not ask you for yours. But you have time. I would not see you waste it."

Cyril smiles at the kid because he takes it for that and needs some humor to shoulder talking about this. He also keeps ahold of Zevran's hand to reassure them both there is no anger here.

"What do you think I want?" He asks because the true answer to what he really wants is long, complicated, and painful.

"To live as you like and not have to worry about returning to the Clan. To see your brother well. To see the world and fight for a good cause, meet interesting men, possibly bed them. Fall in with someone that treasures you." The usual. "You want to live. Let yourself."

He had to admit, those things are things he wants. The last one is a little complicated but he can pretend it means something else. "All right, those things sound good, but isn't that what I've been doing?"

"If you repeat this to anyone, they will never believe you and I will deny it until my dying day. But." He pauses a moment, considering the weight of what he has to day. "There is more to life than sex and fun, Cyril."

Cyril chuckles a bit because of the idea of him repeating that. "I know," he says. "I'm not all about fun. I've been treating some of the events here very seriously."

"In your personal life as well, I should hope." Some things deserve seriousness. Like. Whatever it is that might come of him and Taas.

Cyril raises his brow a bit. "I take things as seriously as I can," he says carefully. "I'm very clear about my intentions from the start and I listen when people say they aren't interested. I treat my lovers carefully, not wanting to overstep or pressure." Those were all important lessons for him and he took them to heart.

Then, after a moment, he adds, "Is that what this about? You don't think I take Taas seriously enough? He and I are good. He doesn't push for more than I can give, and I don't expect more from him than he can provide. He doesn't try to claim me or possess me and I don't want to tie him down --" A pause there, as he realizes what he said and he can't help but smirk at it. "Well, I might if there were ropes involved, but I mean in a relationship sense. We don't need to be bogged down with labels or exclusivity."

He hopes that gets the point across, though he adds just to be sure. "Just like you and me. Honestly, if either of you expected more from me I'd have to end things, let myself just be your friend. Expecting more from me is a sure fire way to get your heart broken."

"Why is expecting more and, perhaps, expressing it so terrible a thing? Do you have no care to have more or do you feel as though you are not worth having more?" If he knew the phrase or understood the concept at all- Zevran would realize he is projecting.

Quite a bit.

Unfairly so.

Cyril shrugs. "Maybe a little of both," he admits honestly. "But why would I trap someone into a romantic tie with someone who wasn't sure they wanted that? Especially people I genuinely care about?"

Edited 2016-04-20 20:42 (UTC)

"I am not recommending entrapment- merely contemplation." He rubs his thumb across Cyril's knuckles. "You are worth more than you think."

"I have to be, for you to consider me a treasure," Cyril responds and while he means it as a flirt, there is something sincere there.

"It means something that you care to talk to me about this, but I promise I'm okay." At least when it comes to Taas.

Other people, ones he grew up, they were a completely different story.

"If you need to talk about this or have questions- ask someone that actually knows what they are doing, yes? Or if you cannot find them, I am always available." He tugs Cy's hands up to his lips to press a kiss to the back.

"I will," Cyril says, enjoying the attention as always. "I promise."

He lets there be a moment of them just being close, and honest. "Can we get back to dancing now? I would actually like to learn that move."

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