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WHO: Gavin, Zevran and Bruce
WHAT: Zevran, Bruce and Gavin take a supply run back to the mire.
WHEN: Nowish
WHERE: On the road to the Fallow Mire
NOTES: Ridiculousness? probably ridiculousness.

Supply runs were never the most fun. The baggage train inevitably meant that the pace was not even a third of what Gavin would keep on his own, even though they were mounted, and they had to spend a good deal of their time making sure the animals carrying the supplies didn't somehow wander off. Usually it bored Gavin to absolute tears until he just sort of started making up reasons to go scouting ahead.

This time, though, there were only the three of them - so he really couldn't afford to take his eye off the bags - and the other two happened to be friends, so it wasn't nearly as bad a journey as it could have been otherwise. That didn't stop Gavin from being as restless as all hell, from being unable to sit in his saddle or to keep him from singing (badly) to himself to just past the time, but it helped.

It would take two days, to march down there, leaving just after dawn on the first day, camping just after nightfall, and leaving at dawn again. That would see them getting in to the camp in the Fallow Mire just a few hours after dusk.

When they camped for the night, Gavin was all too happily to be doing anything other than riding a damned horse, so set up the tent all too happily and then dragged a bunch of dry wood back for the fire.

"We should probably take some of this wood with us - there's so little dry stuff in the Mire."

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"So I have been told." It was part of why he did so well in the crows, being pretty. It could have been worse and- he's well aware of that. Better not to think of it. Zevran passed back the stone and turned enough to quirk a brow at Gavin. "You should purchase one of your own when we return from the Mire."

"Maybe," He said, in the tone of voice that implied that he would immediately forget about it as soon as he was done with his toes right now.

He already had a few ideas of where his meager coin should go.

He pulled one foot up onto his knee and started to scrub at it in a completely ungraceful manner. "I heard there was even a hot spring in the castle somewhere. I bet someone could make a lot of coin setting up some kind of real bath there."

He looked up as he suddenly remembered. "Where did Bruce get to? I thought he was coming back."

"You are going to shred your skin like that." Seriously, did he know nothing? He knew nothing. Zev batted at his hands and took the stone, pulling it along in a slow stroke. "One direction. You are cleaning your skin, not grating cheese."

The idea of setting up a proper bath house did come to mind- he wasn't certain who to speak to for it to become a reality. Krem he'd made mention of the notion, but Krem did not handle the coffers.

"He is not going to return, Gavin."

He raised his hands in surrender as Zevran took over.

"My feet may as well be cheese, for how they smell these days," He quipped back, before scanning the river bank, and then looking back at Zevran seriously.

"Did something happen between you two? I keep thinking my fingers are going to get frostbite whenever I'm between the both of you."

"Then you are not washing them as often as you should." Do none of these elves know how to care for themselves? "Mm? No, not as such. A slight disagreement that was forgiven- though I do not think you should ache for his approval so desperately."

"Well I'm here now, aren't I?"

He took the pumice stone back to start stroking his foot in the way that Zevran had done, but he was more impatient, and so wasn't really doing it slowly enough (but he didn't care).

"I don't ache for his approval," Gavin replied, grinding away at his feet. "I just prefer to get along with the people that will be responsible for keeping me from dying if that dragon suddenly shows up again." Healers were good people to have on your side, Zevran.

"That, and these hikes are long enough as it is. He's usually not nearly as awkward company as this."

"Mhmm." Gavin could keep telling himself that as much as he liked. "Gavin, you ache for everyone's approval. There is no shame in wanting to be liked."

Being dishonest with oneself over it, now- the Elf's capacity for self delusion was slowly becoming more and more apparent to Zevran. Still, it was not foolishness that would see him dead personally and thus there was no true harm in it. For now. That may change.

"He is hiding something. Several somethings. Moreover he is human and far, far too kind to elves to the point of being overly kind. I would not go so far as to call it condescending or patronizing just yet- but give me time. I will find the truth of it."

Gavin gave Zevran a sheepish grin. "Well if you put it that way, I'll admit to it, but I still think the word 'ache' is a little much."

It really, really wasn't. It was the perfect word.

The rest, though, made him frown.

"I wouldn't be surprised that he was," he admits. "I don't really know that much about him. But does it matter? Everyone here has secrets. They all have pasts they don't want to admit to, or face. If you found out that in his past he abused a hundred elf servants, and that was why he was kind to us now, would that change anything?"

"No, no it is not." But Gavin was welcome to protest from now until the end of days.

Zevran settled back with his own picks, cleaning under his nails with deft little flicks of the tool. "Everyone has secrets, to be certain, knowing them is a large part of keeping one's skin intact. Or at least knowing what they might be about. He is so skittish- moreso around elves than other people. And honestly I am sick to death of human guilt bringing us kindness."

"You can be as sick of it as you want," Gavin said wryly, leaning over to dip the pumice in the water to clean it before using it to gesture at Zevran. "I'll take it over being punched and kicked repeatedly. But you're right about the skittish... I just didn't really see it until I saw him around you, I guess. He's usually more relaxed with m--" He cut off mid word, frowning.

"No. He isn't. That time in his tent he nearly crawled out of his skin when I asked him what colour of blanket he would like, if I picked him up one."

"If he were merely full of human guilt he would not be quite so skittish. There is something else at work here and I would know it." Something quite pervasive, something that would likely get either Bruce or someone else killed.

"Well I could try to find out for you," Gavin said, tilting his head as he lowered his feet back into the water. "I mean-- I'm no spy, by any means, but people tend to tell me things, eventually."

Probably because he seemed harmless. (Well, not harmless - but harmful only to himself.)

"If you honestly think it's a concern, I can look into it."

"Gavin, you are a very fine friend. But you would make a terrible spy; your are as subtle as a mabari." He reaches up to ruffle his hair to take some of the sting from it. "I will learn in my own time, with my own ways.

Gavin chuckled, despite himself, his head tilting like a dogs as his hair was ruffled, the tips of his ears tinting red.

"Alright, alright. Well, there goes that career goal," He replied, teasing himself more than Zevran. "... But I hope it turns out to be nothing of real concern. We have enemies enough as it is."

"I do not think it is enough to make an enemy of him. But it is likely enough to remain wary." Trust no one- and trust those that are kind without cause all the less.

Gavin gave him a bemused look, before handing him back the pumice stone and then slipping off the rock and into the water - soaking himself thoroughly and then shaking himself half dry. "I'll braid your hair, if you want, when you're done," Gavin said, as if they hadn't at all just had the conversation they'd had, stepping back up onto the bank of the river, feeling a hundred percent better than he had before. If wary.

"I think I'll wander back and see if I can't shame Bruce into at least bathing once you're done."

"He will bathe so long as he is certain we shall not peek. I think he may be terribly shy." For what reason, he could not say. But it came as no surprise that he would want some space away from the knife ears.

He bound up his hair in a loose knot for the moment, giving himself room to finish scrubbing his back. "I will be out in a bit."

"Definitely peaking, then," Gavin replied with a grin.

"Take your time, I'll make sure there's a good fire going for when you get back." And with that, he slipped back off into the woods, humming to himself in the trees.

Really, it wasn't that Bruce had anything against either Zevran or Gavin - they were both good people - it was just that, well. Bruce just didn't really relish the thought of stripping himself naked in front of others.

Honestly, it was kind of a weird contradiction. He had ended up naked out in the wild several times before, though none of them had been by choice - his transformations certainly never took clothing into account. It wasn't the nakedness that bothered him so much as the thought of people seeing him being naked. There was just a string of connotations related to that which Bruce was never going to touch even with a ten foot pole.

While waiting for both elves to be done Bruce hung around the tent, doing a few chores to occupy his time and mostly just keep his own thoughts occupied. By the time Gavin was back, Bruce already had a fire going, and looked up from where he had been currently feeding some more wood to the flames.

"Oh--you're back." He blinked once after saying that, then quickly started to make a move to stand up. "Sorry, I did intend to go back--I was just distracted by several things." Bruce did feel a bit bad for lying, but it wasn't as if he could go around to admit the truth.

"It's alright. I'm done, though, and I think Zevran will be done in a minute, if you still wanted one," He said, apparently unsuspecting, but in fact - thanks to Zevran - definitely suspecting.

He didn't have his shirt back on, though, and instead walked over to the horses to grab a cloth and scrub himself down.

Bruce gave a nod in response to Gavin's words, picking up his things after that and making sure that they were all in hand.

"I'll go over and check on him, then take mine when he's done." He says, just so that Gavin is aware more than anything else. But he doesn't wait for Gavin's response to that, instantly setting off once he's said his piece, making his way over to where Zevran is so that he could clean himself off too.

By the time Bruce returns Zevran is dried and dressed, sitting next to his assortment of blades and pouches while combing out his hair. "Finished fearing for your virtue, Bruce?"

"Yes." The response is short and perhaps a little bit too curt, but its not as if anything else that Bruce says here would help him anyway. He goes to set his things down in a spot where they wouldn't get wet and then glances at Zevran once more. "And I'd like to continue keeping it too, if you wouldn't mind."

It wasn't meant to sound rude or anything, but--well. Bruce just didn't want people to be around when he undressed. It was a him thing, really.

"I am not about to take it, if that is what you're worried about." He could linger. It would be simple enough, make a point of not caring, of not being bothered; but honestly? Their mutual points have been made. It'd be an emphasis of something they both already know and thus Zevran binds his hair back and drapes his knives and leathers over his arm before heading back up to camp. "I prefer my partners to be slightly more enthusiastic if nothing else."

Bruce doesn't say anything - not that he could say anything, he supposed - and so simply lets Zevran have his way out of the area. He waits until the elf is wholly gone and he's assured that there's nobody else around then does Bruce actually start to divest himself of his clothing layer by layer.

He can feel his skin prickling with each layer that he gets out off, and at the last one he can feel the old ache coming in. He pointedly ignores it and takes off his undershirt, revealing a lean and somewhat built upper figure that could have once been admired by others. Once, because across his skin were a collection of old scars and scab marks that are decorated both front and back, with particular attention to the latter half.

There were marks that traced down the entire length of his back, jagged scars that looked like they came from weapons of some sort and a great deal more variety that never seemed to end. The most prominent scar, however, was one on his front - an old one that ran from right below his chest to before his hip, cutting down his entire stomach and leaving huge mark there.

Bruce stares down at that particular scar and runs a hand down through it, only giving himself a moment to sigh before he starts to wade through the river with the needed items in hand to start giving himself a much needed wash.

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