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WHO: Cyril, Sam, Merrick, and Zevran
WHAT: Cyril finds out that Merrick is sharing a tent with Zevran and goes to check on him. When he finds out Sam is there too, he ends up crashing.
WHEN: Shortly after everyone has arrived and set up tents.
WHERE: Fallow Mire, in the tent assigned to Sam, Zevran and Merrick
NOTES: None yet

Cyril had heard that Merrick and Zevran were assigned to the same tent. The news that made that bone deep wariness settle over him again. He needed to make sure his brother was comfortable with the arrangement so he found himself seeking out which of the tents belonged to them.

When he found it he lingered outside for a bit. "Merrick?" he asked, checking that it was the right one before peeking in.

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It was, for the most part. Merrick didn't plan on spending too much time in the tent, not with a fascinating new place to explore and corpses to kill. He was antsy, sharpening one of his knives with his legs stretched out on his bedroll. It was nighttime, but he didn't feel anything like sleeping yet.

He heard Cyril's voice and replied with a grunt.

Zevran was settled in the far corner, polishing one of his knives (actual knife, actual polish, honestly.) when he finished he flipped it to one of the many sheathes about his person and flicked out the next to repeat the process. "Cyril. Have you found your place in camp?"

Cyril heard the grunt and Zevran's honey voice and then moved to enter the tent. He smiled a bit at the sight of both of them with blades. Then paused when he realized it wasn't just the two of them in the tent.

Honestly, it was a little weird sitting in the tent just watching Merrick and Zevren taking care of their daggers, but he had little else to do. His staff didn't need the same upkeep and he wasn't quite ready to get ready for bed. At least he was keeping amused by trying to figure how many daggers Zevran actually had on him and exactly where they kept appearing and disappearing from.

The voice at the entrance of the tent barely grabs his attention from staring - it was for Merrick anyways. Hearing Cyril's name however has Sam raising his brows and turning his gave towards the opening. Sure enough it was the silver-haired Elf. "Hey stranger."

Merrick set his knifework down and lit up his pipe, casually observing the interaction between Sam and Cyril. That was, well, an interesting development. Not interesting enough for him to pay it much more than a cursory observation, but different enough for him to file the information away.

"What do you want?" he asked his brother, adding his own emphasis to Zevran's question. If he'd noticed the way the two responded to one another, than surely his teacher did as well.

Edited 2015-11-12 01:07 (UTC)

"Our very fine company, it seems." Now there's a look. And a look to answer. Knowing Cyril as he does, or rather as little as he does but well enough of how he handles those he finds to be terribly handsome, Zev's mind takes a particular bent. He tips his head in Merrick's direction and flicks his eyes between Sam and Cyril, holding up two fingers followed by one of the hand signals he'd been teaching him.

There are many and each quite nuanced. When done with vigor the one he flicks in Merrick's view is loosely translated as 'politically complicated and due to end in blood or children, my money is on the former'. When done subtly? However many fingers held up before the gesture of a form of coin, 'I bet X silvers that they fucked and it was awkward.'

Edited 2015-11-12 03:36 (UTC)

Cyril misses the hand signals because he's distracted by looking at Sam. He offers the human a smile and chuckles a bit. "Zevran's not off completely."

Then, he turns to Merrick and things seem to go back into order. He doesn't have to be distracted by Sam when he focused on his brother. He goes over to Merrick and sits carefully down next to him, the movements of his body almost fluid. Things are so much more familiar when he focuses on Merrick, not any less complicated to be sure, but still familiar.

"I came to check on you," he says. He doesn't explain why Merrick would need checking on, but despite how easily he acts like everything is fine, the concern on his face is very real. "Though, if I had known you'd be staying with such handsome men, I would have dressed up for the occasion." The concern quickly gets replaced by lasciviousness.

Sam is honestly surprised that Merrick and Zevran are actually doing something besides taking care of their daggers. Thank the Maker, or rather Cyril in this case, because sitting in silence while they did that had been kind of awkward.

Course now that Cyril was here there was a completely different tension that seemed to take up the tent, but Sam couldn't quite place it. What was Zevran doing with his hands?

Well at least the silence had been broken, because now Sam didn't feel as odd about making some noise in taking off some of his gear. "You actually brought nice clothes to this kind of place?" Because that was what dressing up meant right? Seriously, why would Cyril bring anything nice to the bog?

Cyril gets an eyeroll, Zevran gets an affirmative hand signal (yes they did, no you're not getting my money), and Sam gets a look that plainly asks, 'Are you serious?'

"If you're going to be spending time with my brother, you're going to have to learn that 90% of what he says is bullshit," he drawled. He also tugged Cyril close with an arm around his neck, planting a kiss on the top of his head before inhaling deeply from his pipe.

He then passes it to Zevran. "You're going to need this."

"I don't." He waves off the pipe. Drink and women and men? Those he has. Smoking? Reminds him too much of the masters that minded him and his cellmates as they tried not to die. That and dulled senses never truly sat well with him. "But thank you."

What is this? They are being civil? Someone check the sky, nugs are flying.

Cyril relaxes into the open affection Merrick is giving him, but his attention is focused on Sam again. It's funny how he can say something to make himself even more endearing.

"You don't think I'd dress up to visit a tent full of beautiful men?" he asked, directing the question to Merrick. "You're right, I suppose. I'd me much happier visiting them undressed."

Now he might just be trying to see if he can fluster Sam a bit.

Merrick is met with a look that is obviously him asking, 'What did I do?' It was an honest question. Course he gets a bit sidetracked watching Merrick tug Cyril into an embrace and kiss. For him that was a bit odd, mainly because he was so unused to seeing the dark haired Elf show affection. Well Cyril had mentioned they had a special kind of relationship. It was kind of cute. Which he would never say out loud because he enjoyed not having a dagger in his back, thanks.

Things did seem to be rather civil, which made Sam feel a bit more at ease with being there. The smoking in the tent probably wasn't a smart idea, but if it meant people were going to be calm, then whatever.

Course when Sam figured it was safe to start stripping off the top layer of his gear, Cyril decides to drop that little bomb on them. If anyone asks he did not make some sort of choked noise, and the red on his cheeks was from the cold. That was his story and he was sticking to it.

There was ventilation in the tent, anyway. Merrick shrugged when Zevran turned down his offer and said, "Suit yourself." More for him, anyway.

He was still loosely holding Cyril in what could only be described as an 'affectionate headlock', and was careful to blow the smoke away from his face. Indeed, the way he handled Cyril was starkly different than how he dealt with most things (violently). He treated Cyril like he was something precious--not like glass, no, never so delicately, but like a thing he cherished.

That didn't extend to his attitude, though. He rolled his eyes and gave his brother a noogie. "Why do you have to make everything so weird? Pervert."

Zevran got a Look too. They were both guilty of this.

Edited 2015-11-16 01:33 (UTC)

"And now you've made him blush." Though with such a handsome display at hand he could not blame Sam, though he does wonder a little at the affection. They had some manner of special bond Cyril mentioned earlier but he did not wish to look into it too deeply. Such a thing-

From what he knew of it and knew of tempered partners, they did not end well. They were not he and Taliesin but the similarities were enough to cause some worry. Not much. But enough for him to shift in how he sat, put more space between himself and everyone else in the tent. Get a little breathing room. "Flirtations are not weird, Gazza. They are perfectly normal when surrounded by handsome men or lovely women."

Cyril laughed a bit and shifted to end the noogie but didn't fully dislodge himself from his brother's arm. He enjoyed the attention he was getting a little too much to just pull away from it.

He did, however, raise a hand to run his hand through his hair to fix it. Even more when he considered just how handsome everyone in this tent was. "I'll try to keep my clothes on, though. At least for the sake of your sensibilities."

Well this wasn't awkward at all. Noooo. It had been one thing with just Zevran and Merrick in the tent, but with Cyril there now? He liked Cyril a lot, but the open flirting did feel a bit weird seeing as Merrick knew about the two of them, and Zevran knew about him and Krem.

Sam clears his throat a bit, trying to ignore some of what Zevran and Cyril are suggesting. "Who are you staying with out here, Cyril?"

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