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[ OPEN ] Se sapessero tutto su di te
WHO: Zevran, Luciano, and YOU
WHAT: Catch all for the month
WHEN: June/Justinian
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Prose or Brackets are fine, roll with what you like most. If you want a specific prompt hit me up on plurk @ here!
WHAT: Catch all for the month
WHEN: June/Justinian
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Prose or Brackets are fine, roll with what you like most. If you want a specific prompt hit me up on plurk @ here!
[ After the Baptism (Early Justinian) ]
Early in the evening, after some small ceremony in Skyhold's chapel, Zevran can be found surrounded by his Kestrels, sitting quietly in a corner of The Herald's rest as they played music and sang a great many traditional Antivan pieces. There is food and wine and dancing and Zevran partakes only a little. While he may look tired and a little overwhelmed, the night is a joyous one all the same. In his arms, on his lap, or sitting on the table with Zevran's steadying hand upon his back is a small elven child. All wide blue eyes and blonde curls, tanned skin that is marred only by the smudge of ashes in a circle on his forehead as is custom, dressed in a simple cotton shift Luciano Arainai claps and squeals in turn, gnawing on whatever is within reach or patting down Zevran's shirt with sticky hands. He is a child, they are sticky, it is a known fact. To the end of the night exhaustion catches hold for both, leaving the infant cranky and Zevran struggling to soothe him long enough to slip away to their rooms.
[ Garden ]
Afternoons find Zevran lounging in the garden- fresh air is both good for him and supposedly healthy for children- as long as he is able to keep Lucci from shoving things into his mouth that are not meant to be eaten. Which is everything. Which means it is less lounging and more tugging upon a leash and harness he has rigged to let his child roam but not too far- only a few feet from where he is sprawled and sketching upon a blanket. Most of his attention is actually on his son but it does the boy well to assume he has leave to explore. At least until he crawls back to demand food or attention or- whatever it is infants want. Zevran is still learning to interpret his various burbles and shrieks.
[ Courtyard ]
Zevran is, for the moment, trapped under the dead weight of his son- the slightest shifting earns a familiar screwing up of Lucci's face that has him resigned to simply leaning back against the tree where he'd stopped walking to shift his grip earlier and wait out the nap. He dare not doze himself- too tense against the open area, how vulnerable they are, how exposed. Tensing too much causes the same small sounds of upset and thus he is forced to sit, mind that he does not lock up, and wait for Lucci to fall deep enough asleep that he might carry him back to their room or rouse himself enough to make the trip worthwhile.
[ Hot Springs ]
"Your voice does carry, you know." Idle and conversational, Zevran has found a shallower edge of the hot springs when he'd truly rather a deep soak- but elven infants do not swim well and as such he must sit over here. With a shrieking, splashing child rigged safely in some manner of wicker basket he'd lowered into the water to keep Lucci from falling over backward and drowning. And to keep these little floating toys (maker only knows who gave them to him, he cannot recall) from floating away. "Yes, yes, splashing the water is marvelous fun- please hold still."
Not that Lucci is one to listen, wriggling under Zevran's hands as he tries to clean...something...sticky from his son's hair. "What is this, honey? How did you get honey in your hair? When were you near honey?"
[ Training Grounds ]
There are rare days when Lucci is not quite so prone to shrieking and crawling, not quite so intent on escape and Zevran can wrap him in a sling of sorts, tucked up against his chest, and actually train his Kestrels. It is an adjustment, every so often he must away to change the child's soiled underclothes or to feed him and the extra weight is odd and leaves him sore at the end of a few hours- but with one hand on Lucci's back to support him, the other gesturing as he speaks in rapid fire Antivan, directing his Kestrels through their maneuvers.
Early in the evening, after some small ceremony in Skyhold's chapel, Zevran can be found surrounded by his Kestrels, sitting quietly in a corner of The Herald's rest as they played music and sang a great many traditional Antivan pieces. There is food and wine and dancing and Zevran partakes only a little. While he may look tired and a little overwhelmed, the night is a joyous one all the same. In his arms, on his lap, or sitting on the table with Zevran's steadying hand upon his back is a small elven child. All wide blue eyes and blonde curls, tanned skin that is marred only by the smudge of ashes in a circle on his forehead as is custom, dressed in a simple cotton shift Luciano Arainai claps and squeals in turn, gnawing on whatever is within reach or patting down Zevran's shirt with sticky hands. He is a child, they are sticky, it is a known fact. To the end of the night exhaustion catches hold for both, leaving the infant cranky and Zevran struggling to soothe him long enough to slip away to their rooms.
[ Garden ]
Afternoons find Zevran lounging in the garden- fresh air is both good for him and supposedly healthy for children- as long as he is able to keep Lucci from shoving things into his mouth that are not meant to be eaten. Which is everything. Which means it is less lounging and more tugging upon a leash and harness he has rigged to let his child roam but not too far- only a few feet from where he is sprawled and sketching upon a blanket. Most of his attention is actually on his son but it does the boy well to assume he has leave to explore. At least until he crawls back to demand food or attention or- whatever it is infants want. Zevran is still learning to interpret his various burbles and shrieks.
[ Courtyard ]
Zevran is, for the moment, trapped under the dead weight of his son- the slightest shifting earns a familiar screwing up of Lucci's face that has him resigned to simply leaning back against the tree where he'd stopped walking to shift his grip earlier and wait out the nap. He dare not doze himself- too tense against the open area, how vulnerable they are, how exposed. Tensing too much causes the same small sounds of upset and thus he is forced to sit, mind that he does not lock up, and wait for Lucci to fall deep enough asleep that he might carry him back to their room or rouse himself enough to make the trip worthwhile.
[ Hot Springs ]
"Your voice does carry, you know." Idle and conversational, Zevran has found a shallower edge of the hot springs when he'd truly rather a deep soak- but elven infants do not swim well and as such he must sit over here. With a shrieking, splashing child rigged safely in some manner of wicker basket he'd lowered into the water to keep Lucci from falling over backward and drowning. And to keep these little floating toys (maker only knows who gave them to him, he cannot recall) from floating away. "Yes, yes, splashing the water is marvelous fun- please hold still."
Not that Lucci is one to listen, wriggling under Zevran's hands as he tries to clean...something...sticky from his son's hair. "What is this, honey? How did you get honey in your hair? When were you near honey?"
[ Training Grounds ]
There are rare days when Lucci is not quite so prone to shrieking and crawling, not quite so intent on escape and Zevran can wrap him in a sling of sorts, tucked up against his chest, and actually train his Kestrels. It is an adjustment, every so often he must away to change the child's soiled underclothes or to feed him and the extra weight is odd and leaves him sore at the end of a few hours- but with one hand on Lucci's back to support him, the other gesturing as he speaks in rapid fire Antivan, directing his Kestrels through their maneuvers.
Hot Springs
Now she was not busy, technically.
At any rate this explained where Zevran had vanished, she nearly thought him missing in action for a while, but there were whispers. Of a ghost that was holed away in one of the residential towers. Wailing drifting down the halls. Odd noises. Perfect ghost story, except it wasn't, this was unexpected...but not unsurprising. Zevran's exploits were legendary even to Fiona who had nearly twenty years on him. So she might as well say hello.
"How long have you been in training, Zevran?" Fiona asked sitting at the edge of the shallow end of the pool. Legs folded. Toweling her hair and ears.
no subject
Decades of training, of practice with delicate traps and instruments, turned to handling a babe.
"For what? Killing? Since I was seven. This? There is no training for- Lucci, no, you just licked that, it was just terrible-" He managed to twist his wrist and get the soap away, offering again that chilled, sweetened ice. "None whatsoever."
no subject
Sorry, she has to tease him about this, because he certainly caused her some trouble, his fair share of it actually. Raising her eyes from the baby to Zevran she was still grinning like the cat who ate the canary, "Alistair did it too. He used to drop a toy, he'd fuss a bit, I would pick it up...he would drop it again, he would fuss a little louder, rinse and repeat."
no subject
For the time being, he chose to laugh, shaking his head as he set the soap far, far away. "Clever already, I should not be so surprised. You are taking after your mother already, yes? Making trouble for me when I am trying to be good."
And not running for the hills screaming. That'd be ideal. "Now that I know the trick of it- or at least the trick of this one particular game, perhaps finding the others will be simpler. Lucci-"
Gentle and soft, his eyes more on the babe than Fiona for this. "Say hello to your grandmother."
no subject
Or if he was still figuring it out.
"And everything goes in the mouth...I'm sure you've learned that one by now," Fiona said tapping Luciano's nose gently, "it's a fantastic way to explore and expand your mind, yes...but the soap isn't very tasty is it? No."
And that too Alistair had done. What Zevran said next caused her to pause from surprise and, well, something else she didn't quite recognize. It cause her to bow her head and remember that she was once the Grand Enchanter and a feisty mage. Her eyes weren't burning, and that was simply water dripping from her hair, "that...I...don't know what to say..."
no subject
If she would have liked the marks on his skin or sat back with horror for what her son had become.
"Alistair and you have many bridges yet left to mend- but to me he is a brother. And you are his mother. Therefore-" He shrugs, scooping up Lucci to start attempting to towel him off. "I am claiming you for this as well. He will need someone that knows what they are doing- and someone to spoil him."
And Zevran needs someone he knows that will never allow the child to come to harm should he need a moment or fifty to get away. "Not at all the grandchild you expected- but the one you shall have, yes?"
no subject
Skin markings and all, mothers loved their children.
"I thought it was the mother that should be adopting the child...yes Alistair and I have...quite a few things to work on still..." it wasn't perfect, but it was something, "you've already got me all sorted out...well as long as we're family I suppose there are a few things that should stay in the family. We'll see what Alistair thinks first, but I do have a quilt and some stuffed toys that once belonged to him."
She was pretty sure these were things Alistair had grown out of now and wouldn't mind if Luciano borrowed them. And of course Zevran had also pegged her as the protective sort, which she certainly was if protecting her people almost ferociously was anything to go by...and she was a healer, "grandmothers get babysitting rights...if I am not mistaken...and you look like you could use a little bit of rest."
no subject
Zevran could not quite banish the thought that these things would get him killed before he learned better. Could not hate the world, just a little more, for being a place where a child would have to know to be afraid of new people, of new places. He'd never truly held that resentment for himself, his life was as it was but- for Lucci?
Now he felt a dim coal of anger that would come to nothing. "He is teething. It wakes him up at odd hours- and much like me? he is a light sleeper."
no subject
She bundled him carefully, drying his hair and behind his ears, making sure no cracks or crevices were missed in the process. She held him close to her face so that his little hands could touch and so that she could nuzzle and ply him with playful raspberries. She could understand much of Zevran's apprehensions and his anger, the world was very unfair...and perhaps her intentions when it came to Alistair now made more sense.
Fortunately, while not an ideal life, Alistair made it to adulthood, not many elf-blooded could say that in Orlais, "teething, hm? We can do something for that, can't we...yes, yes we can..." she said between blowing more raspberries against his fingers as Luciano put his hands on her face, "...have you tried anything yet? I used to chill clean cloths for Alistair...he would gnaw on one end and I would hold the other end...I also made an ointment that I would rub on his gums at night."
no subject
Some moments.
Now was one of them, those bright eyes and soft burbling, the giggling laughter at those raspberries. "I've a friend that chills rags daubed with elfroot and mint for me- he gnaws upon those when they trouble him. But I have not tried anything upon his gums at night. If it would help him sleep? I would greatly appreciate knowing more of this thing."
Once rinsed and more or less dried himself, Zevran tucked his towel about his hips and sat outside the spring, grinning at his boy. "He is a light sleeper, my Lucci."
no subject
"Some of the ingredients are similar, naturally, with a few magical touches for lasting effects that do not require so much chewing. You'd probably only have to apply it once or twice a night depending on how painful the teething is," some babies have an easier time of it.
As soon as Zevran was toweled and dry, more or less, Fiona lowered Luciano to her once more to lightly run her fingers through his wispy hair, "you have the air of a man who is smitten about you."
no subject
"At times. When he is like this and there is less mess, less screaming? When he sleeps. It is easy to be smitten." But the rest of the time? Oh, the discomfit. The fear. The quiet resentment that his life had to shift so abruptly through no fault of Lucci's.
"How long until they are able to sleep through the night?" How long until Zevran would feel halfway sane once more?