faderift | [ OPEN ] One time love, take care how you use it

Entry tags:

[ OPEN ] One time love, take care how you use it

WHO: Zevran Arainai, Isabela, their audience
WHAT: Zevran and Company heat up a cold night with some steamy songs from up North.
WHEN: Current
WHERE: Tavern
NOTES: Bawdy songs, salacious dancing, coin being tossed- adult language and content.

It was cold, they were bored and a little tipsy, and Zevran had run through as many stories of the fifth blight that he could stand for the night, Isabela had run through as many suckers as she could get in her game of cards as would be lured in by her laugh and her bosom. Comfortably buzzed and not wishing to become maudlin Zevran began to pick out the notes to a rather saucy Antivan song- one he recited recently for Alistair. By the time he'd gone through the first verse with just the Lute Isabela was chortling. "You wouldn't actually-"

"Oh, mia Bella, I would. I truly would." Never one to step down from such a challenge, his plucking went from idle to strong with purpose, which only had Isabela throwing her head back and cackling.

Giggling, in her own way, warm and rich and turning a few heads. The atmosphere wasn't dire or dour but it could use a little spice. A little heat. Whether it was the sudden sharp strum that brought him back to the beginning or Isabela elbowing him in the ribs to actually start singing that got more heads, he couldn't say. by the time he hit the refrain and had nudged her enough to get her standing on the table, writhing along with the music? They certainly had the attention of most if not all of the tavern. When he hit the second call and response- half the women in attendance replied, egged on by Isabela on the table still- leaping onto another in time with the music.

As he had quite a few such pieces in his repertoire, they had all night to fill with song and dance and bawdy intent.

[ ooc: tag around and have a party, everyone's game! ]

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The hand on her hip slips up to rest along her ribs, feeling out her posture for a moment before he steps away to check. "Perfect. You are to stand tall, like a queen, like Mythal- proud and powerful."

"Like Mythal?" she asks, arching her back just a little more. Mythal felt approachable and kind in Ellana's eyes, yet at the same time, she could see her standing like this, gliding effortlessly.

"And then what do I do?"

"Your arms-" He positions them gently, the basic position of the slightly bent elbow, one high over her head, one low, swept off to the side as though holding a skirt. "This dance renders your body an instrument- and it is ever improvised. So long as our shoulders back and your elbows are bent, you may snap or clap as you please to keep your rhythm going."

"Oh, yes. I remember you doing that. But this makes the dance sound easier than it looks." Still frozen in place, she continues. "What now?"

"Now we step with the heel- this is why the fashion in lower Antiva is to wear hard leather sole'd boots, it makes for better sound with the dancing." Zevran stepped off to one side so she might watch him bring his heel down hard once, the sound cracking even on the hard ground. "Thusly."

Ellana smirks, pleased she chooses to wear boots everyday instead of go barefoot. She brings her heel down as he does and lets out a hum.

"It's good of you to take the time to do this. I know you must be busy with training others in weaponry and other rogue skills."

"What good is it to fight and to train if we do not remember what it is we fight to save?" He gives another stamp, adding a clap for her to emulate. "And what better way to remind myself than to share one of my favorite pastimes with someone that will adore it as much as I?"

She copies his movements, finding them to be easy so far. The sharp, hard movements are different than the carefree, flowy way she would dance around the fires at camp whenever the Dalish had an occasion to celebrate. But she likes different. She likes learning.

"Is it really one of your favorites? You must be talented in so many things."

"Dance? Dance is as close to lovemaking as you can be while fully dressed. It is a seduction that goes beyond all language and culture. Everyone can understand it, everyone can engage in it, and everyone can enjoy it." Another step, a half turn and a second, harder stomp. "It is music and life. What is not to love?"

"Ah, in that case, lovemaking must be your favorite activity," she says, and even though her tone is teasing she may very well be serious about that.

She steps, turns, and stomps her foot. Then, calling over her shoulder, "Is this dance used to seduce people?"

"But of course." He crackles with laughter, turning now so she might see how it is done- another stomp and clap, the rippling of his fingers in a sharp series of snaps. "All dance is used for seduction, Ellana. This is- a little more forward than most save the Tango."

"And here I would always just dance for fun," she replies, copying him as best she can, not able to snap her fingers exactly like he is. "I've never seduced anybody before."

Ellana doesn't mind admitting it. Anyone could probably guess that coming from a small clan means there aren't a lot of choices available.

"I have not imagined seduction to be something taught in most Dalish Clans. The few I've run into in Ferelden and Antiva did not seem too pleased with the idea of promiscuity. Or perhaps they were not too pleased with me on principle I cannot say." Another turn to complete the circle and he stands back to watch her finish.

"You've a solid grasp of the basics, much as I expected. Dancing suits you well."

Her expression shifts into a scowl. Open, honest; she always shows what she's feeling, and it's clear she doesn't agree.

She spins in a circle as she speaks, voice laced with old bitterness. "We may have been taught not to be promiscuous, but that doesn't mean some of us weren't."

Now done with the Antivan number, she lowers her arms to her sides and relaxes her posture.

"Thank you, Zevran. I like this as much as the lute."

"That sounds like it has a story behind it." He steps in to take her hands; not to dance or instruct, but to hold them. It normally is not his place to ask after such things but- the sheer vehemence with which she spoke? "And I think, perhaps, I can guess after the gist."

"Well," she says, eyes lowering to their joined hands. "It was a long time ago." She feels she shouldn't have let herself have an outburst like that, but this is the way it's always been with her. She will go awhile without thinking of him and how he made her feel both before and after his death, but then something will trigger a memory and it's like the pain is fresh again. She doesn't know why. She doesn't understand why she holds onto old wounds when she wants them to heal.

And this isn't even why she wanted to talk to Zevran alone. It's current happenings that have her feeling down.

"I don't know what's wrong with me sometimes," she murmurs. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"Such hurts do not heal cleanly." No question- and no judgement. She does not need that from him, no. She needs someone that will make her smile, someone that will ease her load and that? He can be happily. He tugs her closer into a loose embrace, arms hooking around her waist. For a long moment he simply holds her close, hands combing through her hair, cheek tipped to rest against her.

Then, he murmurs. "What darkens the light in your eyes, Bella? Who must I duel to bring it back?"

Ellana's eyes slip closed and she sighs against him, arms wrapping around his shoulders. She's felt so heavy lately, carrying too many dark thoughts in her head, but in Zevran's embrace, she feels like the weight could lift away.

"No duels," she murmurs. "I've just been feeling low. Someone I care about is dying, and there's no cure. Someone else I care about is giving me the silent treatment because of something I did by accident. And to everyone else, I feel..." She sinks in his hold a little.

"Unimportant. Unwanted. Little and pointless."

"Clearly you need to make some new friends if your current set is ignoring you so foolishly." Zevran smooths his hand up and down her back, trying to pick through what she is saying to what she isn't, to weave a full tale from the depths of what this might be. The only one dying without recourse- Felix, perhaps? He had heard of that much. Who she cared about and wasn't speaking, that could be any of the Asharas.

Attempting to pick one from the many there would be difficult.

She lets out an exhale that's almost a laugh. Not quite, however. Since she's arrived in Skyhold, she's been branching out, trying to get to know people and their stories. While there are people she can fall back on, losing Merrick hurts a lot. But maybe this is the way things have to be. Doesn't she want to travel once her duty to the Inquisition is over? She needs to learn to let go of the Asharas, since she won't be surrounded by them anymore.

"I've been making friends," she replies. "But it can still hurt to not have the old ones in the way I thought I did." She sniffles and rests her forehead down against his shoulder. "I'm glad we're friends, Zev. I hope I'm at least half as good a friend to you as you've been to me."

"I will admit I am not well versed in having nor keeping friends but- I suppose not having the support you once knew can be difficult." He strokes her hair, cheek tipping to rest on top of her head. He doesn't understand- not as well as she might like. But he can offer some sense of comfort. He is good at that if nothing else. "Ellana, you are a bright moment in an otherwise dreary day; every day."

With her he may set the cold and the sky and the demons aside and focus on music; on laughter and the songs of home.

"You aren't? But I thought you would have had lots of friends. You're so kind and giving of your time. You're fun to be around." She sniffs back any tears that are threatening to fall. "You're bright too." Just look at the way the tavern came alive once he started playing and dancing.

"Ah, well. We did not have friends in the Crows and even now? I am friendly with a great many people-" So much so that it's what Varric calls him, to his eternal amusement- "but Amicos? Are rare. Socios, Bacios, Sescios, these I have."

But Amicos? He has but the one.

Ellana is silent for a moment before she admits, "I don't know what those words mean. Acquaintances? But I think I understand. You don't consider them your dearest friends, right? The ones who know you inside and out. Those are Amicos."

"Ah, well. 'Socios' are friends that are friendly with you and you are friendly with them but you are not exactly friends as you would say in common. Bacios are kissing friends, flirtatious friends, you and I? We are this. Sescios are friends you have sex with. That is what Isabela and I are for one another. Amicos...I have but the one and even then? I am not sure how it happened." He shrugs, wry and amused. "Alistair simply...became that to me one day when I was not looking."

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