WHO: Zevran, Benevenuta, Those that swing by WHAT: Zevran plays living statue to cheer Benny up. WHEN: Currentish WHERE: Skyhold NOTES: Subthread for gawkers and drive bys is open.
It has been a difficult few months for one of his ladies. A woman of distinction and taste, of poise that has not had as much room for leisure as she truly deserves. Perhaps it is something done to court her favor. Perhaps it is a sincere attempt to lift her spirits. Perhaps it is something done to stroke his ego. If asked he would offer no straight answer. but a letter is written and the scene? Set. One of the balconies commandeered and swathed with sheer silk in jewel tones, a chaise with a sable fur arranged, coal braziers dotted with fragrant oils nearby to keep her warm. Zeveral Several more dot the space, two close to a small pedestal. A tray of dried sausages, small tarts, and short pastries rests near the chaise alongside a warmed bottle of Antivan Brandy and several bottles of wine.
It is not home- but it is warmer, more lush than most rooms within Skyhold if only for the day. Upon arrival Zevran, wearing a robe and slippers to keep his feet warm while he waited- offers a jaunty bow and a sleek grin. "Mia Damma, I've something of a surprise for you."
He's had plenty of time to set his scene; Benevenuta spends so little time in Skyhold lately that her hours when she does are overfull, and carving out the space in it to attend a gathering of the Council had been a challenge in itself. By the time she actually reads the note she's received from Zevran, she's already unwinding for the evening, which is probably why her arrival is - not dissimilar. Robe, slippers, loose hair curling down from the tight braids she'd worn it in for days.
Unlike Zevran, of course, there's actually something under her robe that wouldn't scandalize half the Inquisition.
"I am something very surprised," she says, dry, taking in his arrangements. "What is all this, Zevran?"
"As close to a slice of the North as I could manage for you." It is not much, he knows. More than he might bother with for those that he holds as socio rather than amico, but the comforts offered a widow do not end when the funeral has come and gone. They were not wed, she and Hansen, but it was close enough to count for this. He offers Benevenuta his hand, smiling gently.
"Come, sit. I thought perhaps somewhere safe with a bit of art might do you some good." There are, she might note, no paintings or sculptures about.
"Recently," she says, thoughtfully, allowing him her hand and herself to be guided, "I have had my portrait painted. I do not remember the experience very much like this one."
This one is not unpleasant, though. Wine, brandy, tarts. A fur on the chaise - she's glad, suddenly, that she'd changed out of her constricting traveling clothes and into something a bit softer and more comfortable, if she's to be draped across a chaise.
"This is art for you to enjoy, Mia Damma." A bit presumptuous and arrogant of him to be certain- but she will take it in the spirit the gesture is offered. He's fairly certain. Mostly certain. Once she is settled he tugs the tray of brandy warmed and finger foods close, walking back up to the pedestal. He shrugs off his robe, revealing the gold glinting expanse of his skin, hair shaken loose, nothing on him save those tiny gold smallclothes. "For as long as you would like."
"Si, Mia Damma?" All innocence in his smile, in his posture as he turns to offer the optimal viewing experience. "At your request I might also sing or play the lute."
Casual performances such as this in so intimate a setting? Not something he commonly offers. But for Benevenuta? He makes the exception.
From early morning till sunset and perhaps awhile longer- Zevran remains poised and posed upon the silken pedestal arranged on the balcony for Benevenuta's viewing pleasure. Now and then he will change pose or perhaps sing, perhaps play the lute- but he stands glistening with oil, features accentuated with a dusting of gold powder and dark kohl around his eyes, nude save for a golden thong preserving his modesty (as though he had any left to preserve). Hair unbound he cuts a fine copper and gold statue, a living work of art for whomever may pass, or poke their head in for a closer look.
Beleth has been looking for Zevran to help her with a few simple questions regarding hiding daggers in skimpy dresses. The assassin isn't in the Kestrel house, but he's easy enough to locate. She's quickly pointed to where he's been today--why is there so much giggling about it?--and makes her way to the balcony, mouth already open, ready to greet him.
Upon locating him, her mouth hangs open for several very long seconds. Then she closes it, opens it once more, and after thoughtful consideration, closes it for good. Slowly, she turns around, and without a word walks away. She can't remember what she was asking, but she's pretty sure she doesn't want to know anymore.
By the Dread Wolf, there are a lot of things she doesn't want to know.
The first time he spots Zevran up on the balcony, he laughs.
A little time later, he has crawled up the side of the tower - via various balconies - until he is on one directly next to theirs. He doesn't want to disturb - whatever this was - after all, but he has brought a piece of parchment and some charcoal, and sits for a while, humming happily to himself, as he sketches Zevran.
"Enjoying the view?" Zevran calls. At the moment he is facing mostly away from Gavin but he can see him with the corner of his eye. Hair wafting in the wind, silken against his shoulders, arms in apparently casual, nonchalant arcs gesturing to nothing in particular.
"I would throw a fair amount of gold to see this thing made!" Calling down from where he stands, hand on his hip, the other buried in his hair. He doesn't have to see Maxwell to hear his grin.
She's taken over looking after little Lucci for the time being, so that Zevran could get on with this mystery project of his, and it's a good thing he's decided to hold on to some of his modesty.
Lucci likely cares little, balanced on her hip and playing with some colorful threads on her dress that she's tied to her gown specifically for him to tug and mouth on. Why should the babe mind? His father is simply there, as he always is, perhaps a little sparklier than usual. Mia, on the other hand, stares blinking for a moment.
That is...quite the sight. Aesthetically speaking.
This is the only time he dares break his pose- though he thinks such a thing may be permitted. Zevran turns enough to cant his face in Mia's direction, one uplifted hand turning so he might wiggle his fingers at her. This is the project for the day, yes. No he feels no shame.
She didn't think he would. Still, it's a bit much, isn't it?
"Enjoying yourself?" she remarks dryly, once she's gotten her wits about her once more, adjusting her hold on Lucci and hoisting him up a little higher. "I'd wondered where you'd gotten to. Somehow I thought you'd be harder to find."
"Immensely! I have managed to make at least twelve people forget what they were doing, drop what they were carrying, or wander into a wall." Face first. Many bruises and a few bruised egos came after but it's more than worth it. "Not this time, Amora."
"Well then. It appears you've not lost your touch after all."
Not that she'd thought he had for a moment, but in the harried rush of suddenly having an infant to deal with, along with the Kestrels and Maker knew what else. Being an object of sexual desire had ranked significantly lower on the rank of importance for a time, hadn't it?
"Today I should think I am more the art than the artist, Isabella." Still he shifts from one post to the next, pulling his hair back from his face for the moment.
"What, you can't be both? Either way, the effort is appreciated. Special occasion, or just your gift to the Inquisition? You know, someone should really record this for posterity. Want me to get your Kestrel art students up here and make it an exercise for them?" she teases.
"She's a damned lucky girl, then. I sort of miss this kind of thing, but sadly it's a long way to the nearest brothel." She shrugs. "Still, you get an admiral's commendation for your public service."
"As well you should, Zev. I could even put it in writing and put my seal on it. Would you believe I actually have one of those now? Come by my quarters later, we can make it all official, if you like."
This is quite the sight. Anders takes a moment to enjoy it before moving on for now, smiling faintly to himself.
Later, though, there's a note left for Zevran at his door: "Do you have that in blue? Because if Nathaniel's spoken with you and you're amenable, I'd enjoy seeing that again."
Have you ever felt sudden trepidation as if someone is plotting against you, and then realized it was also plotting for you and you were turned on too?
I think Nathaniel likes deeper purples the most on me.
In the early morning, still in the process of waking up, Sam sees the golden 'statue' up above, shaking his head lightly with a yawn - who was buying such things and putting them on a balcony? When morning lessons are over and Sam has had time to wake up, and eat, he passes by again.
The gold catches his eye, only getting him to give a glance, before continuing on. Though the mage only gets a few steps before he stops, turns around and walks back where he can actually look at the statue properly. It hadn't been in that position in the morning had it- no it was certainly moving. At this time Sam actually gets a look of who it is.
"Because you recognize true beauty when you see it and there are few others that would be so shameless as to stand about like this?" Perhaps Dorian, he did not care much. Most others had opinions. Zevran? is content to make a spectacle of himself.
"Yeah I'm sure you're right about that. Don't think I could make myself gold and fit into a gold-" Actually he's not quite sure what Zevran is wearing. "Do I want to know why you're doing this? Lose a bet?" Probably not, Zevran seems to be enjoying himself too much.
"Hardly. A friend of mine has been feeling...poorly for the past short while. Thus I hope to raise her spirits with a little slice of the north." It is no Nevarra, no Antiva, but it is something.
Slice of the north. "This is a normal occurrence up there?" Seriously Zevran it is hard to hold a conversation and not look with you doing that. "So did it work? Raise her spirits that is?"
"The brandy and warmth and silks? Yes. The elven statues? Less so." Bu it is what he can honestly think of to cheer her up. It seems to be working just a little, if only by giving her something else to think about for a time.
If anyone could think about anything else about naked - lets face it that thong doesn't do much - golden elves on their balcony then that was amazing. "Well they are clearly missing out. Course they probably don't since people would be falling into ditches and running into poles."
"So it's you sending people to the tents. Better be careful that whomever isn't on duty comes after you later. More then likely when you aren't gold." Clearly very much enjoying yourself Zevran.
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[ CLOSED ] For Benevenuta
ZeveralSeveral more dot the space, two close to a small pedestal. A tray of dried sausages, small tarts, and short pastries rests near the chaise alongside a warmed bottle of Antivan Brandy and several bottles of wine.It is not home- but it is warmer, more lush than most rooms within Skyhold if only for the day. Upon arrival Zevran, wearing a robe and slippers to keep his feet warm while he waited- offers a jaunty bow and a sleek grin. "Mia Damma, I've something of a surprise for you."
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Unlike Zevran, of course, there's actually something under her robe that wouldn't scandalize half the Inquisition.
"I am something very surprised," she says, dry, taking in his arrangements. "What is all this, Zevran?"
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"Come, sit. I thought perhaps somewhere safe with a bit of art might do you some good." There are, she might note, no paintings or sculptures about.
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This one is not unpleasant, though. Wine, brandy, tarts. A fur on the chaise - she's glad, suddenly, that she'd changed out of her constricting traveling clothes and into something a bit softer and more comfortable, if she's to be draped across a chaise.
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The fact that she laughs immediately after, settling onto the chaise - these are irrelevant details. She is much struck, obviously.
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Casual performances such as this in so intimate a setting? Not something he commonly offers. But for Benevenuta? He makes the exception.
[ OPEN ] For drive bys and Oglers
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Upon locating him, her mouth hangs open for several very long seconds. Then she closes it, opens it once more, and after thoughtful consideration, closes it for good. Slowly, she turns around, and without a word walks away. She can't remember what she was asking, but she's pretty sure she doesn't want to know anymore.
By the Dread Wolf, there are a lot of things she doesn't want to know.
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A little time later, he has crawled up the side of the tower - via various balconies - until he is on one directly next to theirs. He doesn't want to disturb - whatever this was - after all, but he has brought a piece of parchment and some charcoal, and sits for a while, humming happily to himself, as he sketches Zevran.
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"Always," Gavin calls back, sticking out his tongue as he smudged some graphite into the parchment.
"I figured it was worth saving for posterity."
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"Quick, someone tell the advisers I've found our new banner!"
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Now there was a way to take on Corypheus. Defeat by sheer distraction.
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"Alright, alright... just a big one then. For the Herald's Rest, for posterity."
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"Be careful up there in the meantime. No breaking your neck... or anyone else's."
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She's taken over looking after little Lucci for the time being, so that Zevran could get on with this mystery project of his, and it's a good thing he's decided to hold on to some of his modesty.
Lucci likely cares little, balanced on her hip and playing with some colorful threads on her dress that she's tied to her gown specifically for him to tug and mouth on. Why should the babe mind? His father is simply there, as he always is, perhaps a little sparklier than usual. Mia, on the other hand, stares blinking for a moment.
That is...quite the sight. Aesthetically speaking.
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"Enjoying yourself?" she remarks dryly, once she's gotten her wits about her once more, adjusting her hold on Lucci and hoisting him up a little higher. "I'd wondered where you'd gotten to. Somehow I thought you'd be harder to find."
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Not that she'd thought he had for a moment, but in the harried rush of suddenly having an infant to deal with, along with the Kestrels and Maker knew what else. Being an object of sexual desire had ranked significantly lower on the rank of importance for a time, hadn't it?
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"I've never really been all that into sculpture, but for this I could change my mind," she remarks, "Truly, Zevran, you are an artist."
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Later, though, there's a note left for Zevran at his door: "Do you have that in blue? Because if Nathaniel's spoken with you and you're amenable, I'd enjoy seeing that again."
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If we are to be doing what it is I think we shall be doing, you will be wearing it. And I've it in purple, that should suit you well.
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I think Nathaniel likes deeper purples the most on me.
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The gold catches his eye, only getting him to give a glance, before continuing on. Though the mage only gets a few steps before he stops, turns around and walks back where he can actually look at the statue properly. It hadn't been in that position in the morning had it- no it was certainly moving. At this time Sam actually gets a look of who it is.
"Why am I not surprised?"
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