faderift | (no subject)

WHO: Alejandro Borges
WHAT: Alejandro is in the Undercroft making shit, you can come bother him.
WHEN: Catch-all for Bloomingtide
WHERE: Skyhold Undercroft
NOTES: Alejandro.

OPEN

It's been an eventful time in the Inquisition, and even though he's not been in any field missions -- nor does he really intend to be anytime soon -- there's enough that goes on in Skyhold for anyone to be preoccupied. Whether it's damned mage terrorists hanging around being smug dicks, or a random bizarre illness sweeping over the residents because of weird-as-fuck armor, nothing stays quiet for long.

One day, shit will stop being weird and he'll go back to Antiva or something.

That'll be the day.

But today, specifically, Alejandro is working away, focused on a crafting what seems to be a little soldier figurine of sorts. The figurine is clamped in his prosthetic arm while his real hand is working on the finer details.

ZEVRAN

A simple note had been left for his old friend.

Zev,

Your shit's finished. Come say hello and I'll show you the details.

- Alejandro

Which is true enough. After working on Zevran's request and several bumps in the road, he's developed some things he feels fairly proud of to share. That, and a little something for Zevran himself, if he wants it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

They haven't ever- not through any real lack of interest on either of their parts but simply due to a lack of time or being otherwise occupied in the past. But here they are both free, they are both safe...

And they are both of a mind. Zevran smiles against Alejandro's lips, hands slipping around to hook about his waist properly.

"Mmm...Nowhere near as interesting as being with you." In several meanings of the word. This is worth putting off training and bartering in the Courtyard, easily. His Kestrels can make do and the shopping might be done tomorrow. But this?

This is for now.

Edited (i can spell) 2016-05-09 02:43 (UTC)

"Good, because you're about to be real busy down here with me."

If life had proceeded without the two of them ever having done this, Alejandro could live with that, but it's not as if he'd never thought about it before. It was hard not to. The timing in Kirkwall and Antiva could never really pave way to anything more than mild flirting and Alejandro thinking he was subtle enough while checking out the assassin.

But they're here now, with time to spare. Skyhold is a fortress, and safe as it can be for the moment, illnesses and rifts aside.

Alejandro leans into another kiss, absently starting to work off his prosthetic arm. It's just going to get in the way, and he can leave it forgotten for now.

"Is that a promise?" Zevran crackles a soft laugh, happy to lean up and close the distance. Anyone else- any other garment, armament? He would assist with the removing without thought. But the prosthetic is...intimate in a way he is not certain that he has quiet earned. Cautious and curious he brushes the buckles with his fingertips, brows lifted.

Is this permissible, or is that not for him to do?

For a moment, he tenses up; in most cases, Alejandro doesn't act as if lacking an arm bothers him, but in truth, he is a bit self-conscience about it. Though he figures if anyone here is going to understand, it's going to be Zevran. So he relaxes and nods, pressing his lips against Zevran's brow.

"Be easier if you helped anyway," he murmurs, offering a faint grin.

Without a word Zevran began unwinding the buckles and straps, gently removing the arm that Alejandro used to do such good work. As he would for anyone he tied down he spares a moment to smooth his hands over the skin that'd been under the straps, checking for chafing or irritation. "And I am happy to do so. You know- if you ever need a massage, my friend, you need only ask."

With the additional help, the all-too-familiar weight of the prosthetic is gone; Alejandro lets out a sigh and rolls his shoulders back, relieved without it. There's a pause when he feels Zevran's talented fingers roam over his skin; it's slightly reddened, but not irritated. By now, it's toughened up enough to be used to wearing the fake arm at long hours.

The suggestion earns a sharp laugh and he's pressing his lips against Zevran's neck. "Shit, you'd probably need a hammer and chisel to get anywhere. Good thing you're down here, huh?" He lightly nips at the skin there.

He doesn't rest openly in one of the tents in or around Skyhold. He wants nothing to do with the Wardens if it can be helped, save for two he can think of immediately, and the amount of friends he has can be counted on one hand. So, he sleeps in the Undercroft, and that's clearly indicated as he gently guides Zevran back to his bedroll.

"Time and a little oil." Zevran murmurs, already slipping a hand to his beltpouch to dig out one of the vials he'd need. Or. Well. He starts to, stuttering to a stop and sighing at the bite. With most he postures and pretends, preens and purrs and twists himself about like an obscene dream.

Alejo? has no need of such things. And thus he sets aside his masks and training with care to let the man see his honest enjoyment. The sincere shudder that ripples down his spine at something so small.

Bedroll in a cave- he's done more with less.