[ OPEN ] Se sapessero tutto su di te

[ombranera]

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!

[ 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.

Comments

Healing Tents

[justice_is_blond]

He doesn't look so great, sitting at the table he normally is busy processing herbs on. Purrelden is sprawled in some of the sunlight coming in from a pinned-up tent flap. Anders has her in the corner of his eye, but most of his focus is on meticulously, slowly going through basic potion recipes. The steady thoughts help with what feels like a hole in his mind, and making a headache remedy will in theory help with the pounding that keeps coming and going.

[ombranera]

"Anders." Well. This looks terrible. "I suppose it is not all celebratory glasses of champagne and orgies after all?"

[justice_is_blond]

At his name he pauses, frowning at the recipe because he's just lost his place. At least he's not making them, just following the steps. The attempted smile turns out to be closer to a grimace, but he's trying.

"Zevran. I..." Anders exhales. "It should be, shouldn't it? I'm not possessed. But the cost..." He cradles his forehead in his hand. "They're all so hurt, and Justice is dead. He saved my life, he saved so many lives, and he's dead."

[ombranera]

"He was trying to kill you." When it boils down to survival or sentiment- survival must come first. "Long before he left your flesh, I should think. You did not see yourself when you first arrived, Anders."

[justice_is_blond]

"That was, we were... Survival." Except he'd been a mess, and the care Zevran had given him had not just been nice. It had made him start feeling more like a person again, helped get him down this path of living rather than functioning until his death. Anders looks away. Zevran may have a point, likely does. It still hurts that Justice is dead.

"You can come in, you know. Sit, or... something. Unless you're busy." He might be busy. Anders is having trouble keeping track of what time of day it is.

[ombranera]

"I am free for the moment." Honestly, however, he remains cautiously wary as he finds somewhere to sit next to Anders. He had heard...things of mages that are no longer possessed. Connor has grown into a fine young lad but it had not been nearly for as long as Anders. "How are you feeling? I think that is what most might ask, yes?"

[justice_is_blond]

"Like shit." He's not sure if Zevran wants to hear the truth or not. But Zevran has always been direct with him, and Anders needs that right now, needs some firm foundation to put his feet on.

"Nate's seriously hurt in the other room. Everyone who came out to help is hurt, all of them, most seriously. Justice is dead. They're all paying for helping me. Between that and the... the ridiculous silence, the headaches... I'm tempted to get absolutely drunk for the first time in years but they deserve better." That, and he's not sure he's prepared to deal with demons when drunk, either.

[ombranera]

"Well. At least you are all alive, yes? No one has died." Justice is dead, but Justice was never truly alive anyway and-

Well.

Fuck him.

[justice_is_blond]

The look Zevran gets is pained. Justice died. He just said that. But he knows that he's the only one mourning Justice, and he can't ask others to do so.

"Everyone native to this side of the Veil is alive, yes." He takes a breath. "Everyone anyone else is concerned with is alive. Yes. And I'm glad they're alive. If any of them had died..." If they had, what could he have done other than carry that weight too? Anders rubs his forehead.

It occurs to him that he can't even really blame Zevran for being fine with Justice's death. Justice had taken control in Zevran's presence, and every account agrees on how discomfiting an experience that is. He exhales slowly, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry. I know you had cause to dislike him. And he was never easy to get along with. But he was... for a time, he was my friend, and he was the only one who didn't stand idly by when the Templars were trying to kill me for my apostasy even though I was a Warden." Very few people had stood up for Anders before then. It would always mean something.

[ombranera]

"And those are the lives I care about." Best make that plain, beyond questioning. "If you had gotten Merrill killed I might have had to put the knife to you on principle. I hope you understand."

Or Bethany but this, too, went without saying. "You would not have to live with the guilt for long. Now. Choosing to continue to feel guilty about killing Justice when he brought this upon himself by not being an agreeable spirit and simply leaving when asked..."

What is the point of it?

[justice_is_blond]

He could argue that Merrill chose this, that no, he wouldn't understand, that what would have been the point if he'd died right after they'd given their life, but that's all moot anyway. The rest... isn't. If Justice had accepted and gone back to the Fade, he would have lost the ability to directly help, but he would be alive and Anders could at least still work with him.

"I can still mourn him. I'd be dead if not for him. Hawke too, Kirkwall would be a qunari outpost and possibly riddled with red lyrium. Varric, Aveline, Merrill, Bethany, Fenris, I've saved all of their lives since joining with him, and twice I've aided you. I can still miss the friend that once was, and wish it had gone better."

[ombranera]

"Anders." He offers with as much patience and kindness he can manage- which on as much sleep as he is getting (more than last month, less than the month before) is...not as much as one would think. "He was an ass. You may mourn him if you wish, if you must, but I....don't care. I cannot begin to care."

He could not even try to care if he wished. "Other spirit healers manage just as much without the trouble he caused you. Wynne managed just as much while possessed without any of the troubles Justice caused you. So I might, I suppose, mourn the loss of your skills in this but- he was an ass. You live. Merrill lives. Your Nathaniel lives. That is all that is truly important to me."

[justice_is_blond]

He leans forward, lowering his forehead into his hands. Justice will never be more in most people's eyes, and Anders wonders if he ever will be either. If he's cemented his name and there's no changing it. No actual good that can come from what he does. There's a little guilt to that thought too - is he mourning his friend, or mourning his hope for himself? He can't say for sure.

What he can say is one, that he truly can't expect anyone else to care about Justice except perhaps Velanna and Cole. Especially an assassin. And two, while Justice doesn't matter to nearly everyone, Anders wants to matter to people. He does to a few, Zevran among them. Right now, Anders should perhaps be glad for any victories he can get.

"They live. And I live," he finally says. A beat, and then he tries for a joke that's still a little strained. "Despite how easily you would find killing me."