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

[ombranera]

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! ]

Comments

s'awright!

[ombranera]

"I would argue the point- you are quite memorable even here and now, as you are. But-" And he does mean that, hand dropping down to rest upon hers, warm and easy, a great deal of the predatory leering and posturing sliding away to leave him there but less...

Less the lothario and more himself. Curious and not entirely unkind when given occasion. And she has certainly given him occasion.

"Never before have I seen eyes like yours nor heard a song like you have shared- nor heard a whistle so pure aside from the very fine songbirds of my own home. But they are clipped, caged things. Kept comfortable but kept none the less."

Gentle as anything he lifts her hand to kiss her knuckles. "I would not dare to keep more than you are willing to give. This? Is more than enough."

she's like <(o///o)>

[nadasharillen]

She had been prepared for something else entirely. Some half formed thought that his interest would immediately wane in favor of more agreeable company, or perhaps some continued bawdiness or cajoling. Not these... genuine seeming compliments, contingent on nothing.

When he lifted her hand it came easily, the hunter's surprise too great to allow any resistance. She thought mostly about how they had calluses in similar places, and how she had not thought her hand could be lovely until now--held carefully like a bird. Nahariel had never felt made for gentle things. Life with their small clan had enough hardship that there was precious little time for dalliance--nor did it provide anyone she wished to dally with. And at the Arlathvhen? Two days offered little more than the opportunity for experimental pawing... and she'd been mostly concerned that the Clan got fair trade for her work.

No. This was entirely new, and the brief press of his lips against her knuckles made the tips of her ears tingle.

"You are," she managed, "kind to say so."

and he's just <(o v o)>

[ombranera]

Most women don't ever truly know what to make of him at first blush- Dalish? Even less so. They have been warned of Shems and rough hands, simpering city elves and the dangers of involving oneself with those beyond the Clans. But there was no preparing for Zevran. Overt but not overbearing, charming but not chauvinistic, with all the airs of a dashing hero from pulpy romance novels and more sincerity than they'd be granted- but not so much that his intent or manner might be mistaken. A thoroughly dishonest individual; but honest lover.

How could anyone brace themselves for such a thing?

He pressed a second kiss to the back of her hand before lowering it to the table. He did not release it unless she made a motion to pull away. Her hands, her skin was her own. Zevran would be the last to encroach where he was not wanted. "I am not often called kind- but I am glad to be kind to you."

[nadasharillen]

The hand he held was slightly tensed, hovering somewhere in between pulling away and relaxing. The same could be said for the rest of her--save her eyes. Those were open, curious, balanced on the edge of disbelief.

"Why?" she asked. It was unclear which of the two statements she questioned. Perhaps because she wondered about both.

[ombranera]

"Because of who and what I am...and because of who and what you are." That is enigmatic and honest enough to suit him. Whether she found it to be a good answer, well. Most were easily put off by his evasive nature- but hunters did tend to relish the chase.

[nadasharillen]

"I suppose if one expects compliments to be given, they are no longer considered a kindness," she'll reply, in a second answer to both questions. She'll smile her crooked smile again, apparently pleased to have thought of it.

And it was true, from what she knew. She'd heard his name before, around Skyhold. There'd even been a note up about him on the board. Flirtatious, and accomplished at it. Very popular in the evenings. But that was how it went with skill at anything--it became a facet of reality, not a kindness. Even if it was one.

While thinking, she'd relaxed a bit, now looking at him as less of a wary unknown, and more like... a piece of good wood she'd come across. She wasn't sure what he was yet, but she believed that people, like wood, would eventually tell you what they were, if you listened well enough.

[ombranera]

"That is precisely it." He swipes his thumb across her knuckles, content to remain in quiet conversation- but behind him on a table? Isabela, she calls. He is noticeably, visibly reluctant to leave- but leave he must. The crowd wishes another song, another dance. Giving her fingers a gentle squeeze he stands, calling back to Isabela in bright Antivan.

"Another time, yes? I am often found here in the evenings."