faderift | OPEN: this will be a better year

WHO: Everyone
WHAT: First Day
WHEN: Wintermarch 1 (forward-dated)
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Scouts from both the Western Approach and Emprise du Lion are welcome (but not required) to have returned to Skyhold in time for this event.

There have been better First Day feasts, and less crowded ones, and cheerier ones. It isn't a good year for many to look back on, and this one isn't starting any better. Reports from both Eastern and Western Orlais are grim. Many in the Inquisition can't afford to take more than a few hours away from their work, if that.

But for those who can, the ambassador does her best. At lunchtime some tables, hot food, and finery are reserved for visiting nobility and wealthy pilgrims--cause for grumbling in some quarters, perhaps, but they're the people filling the Inquisition's coffers, and allowances must be made--but there's plenty of stew, bread, and ale for everyone, even with the soldiers and refugees who stay outside the fortress invited inside for the holiday. The recently repaired garden and its carefully tended plants aren't off limits, but anyone noisy and holding a drink will be stopped at the door; the battlements, with their potential for deadly falls, are blocked by Inquisition guards. But the courtyards brim with people, most of them happy despite the possibility that the world might end before another First Day arrives.

If the courtyards are too full of tipsy visitors for comfort, there's also the valley beyond the fortress, expansive, barren, and covered in snow. By the river the soldiers help the refugees make a bonfire larger than would ever be allowed inside Skyhold's walls, and some lend their shields to use as sleds down the embankments. A group of scouts start the most intense game of hide and seek Thedas has ever seen, with snowballs to the face for whoever is found first. In the camp, a refugee girl with her hand wrapped in a green scarf chases other children around the tents, shouting raaar, I'm from the rifts!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Not a word- as it isn't as though Taas would hear him, but a hand clasped upon his shoulder is offered as warning before Zevran drapes himself, frigid and flushed from a few turns in the snow and around the fire, into Taas' lap. His hair's a wild mess, his eyes bright, and he takes great care to have Taas' eyes on his face before he speaks. "A fine evening, is it not?"

He's a bit surprised from the touch, but then he has a lapful of a very cold elf, and he did not mind that one bit. Feeling how cold he was, the large qunari wraps his arms around the man to warm him up.

Qunari tended to be walking furnaces, after all.

"You look like you're having a damn good time," Taas says with amusement in his voice. Zevran's face was flushed in a way that reminded him of their nights together. "You look almost as good as you do in bed."

Zevran turns his face into Taas' neck for the moment, pressing his cold nose and lips against the skin there before he pulled back enough so his lips and eyes might be seen easily. "Antivans thrive with good parties."

But mention of the more private sort had his grin twisting into something wicked. "Now- that would be a fine way to end the night, would it not? I have recovered from our last tumble well enough to have you again."

The warrior runs a hand though the tousled golden locks and up over the cold ears, gently cupping his meaty hands over the tips to warm them up a little bit. Dang elves and their sensitive little ears. His own were much thicker and didn't suffer as much.

"Mm. Antivans thrive everywhere, I'd say."

The mention of a nice end to the night makes Taashath grin, and he moves those hands down over the elf's neck, imagining new pretty bruises down the tan expanse of his throat. Then he heatedly sinks them lower to grasp the nice thighs in his lap. "Is that so...?"

It's but a touch, a brush of lingering contact- but it has Zevran shivering slightly all the same. Perhaps it is pleased and indulgent memory, or perhaps it is desire. Were he honest? He would say it is both.

"It is indeed." Zevran tilts his head to the side, baring the line of ink that curls just above the line of his collar and delves below- lines with which Taas is quite familiar with lips and tongue and those large, marvelous hands. "And I've nowhere important to be tomorrow morning."

That bared skin is impossible to resist, and Taas leans down to run his flat tongue over it, mouth pressing to the curve of a collarbone. "Mmm. You are such a fucking irresistible man, Zevran..." He mumbles against a pulse-point. So good to him, so hot in his hands, and Taas is tipsy enough to babble a bit.

He's not ashamed to grope the elf in semi-public, even. His large lap hides most of it, and a bit of necking is awkward enough for anyone watching to not linger their gaze for too long.

Shame is for other people; and like this Taas cannot see him to hear- but the rumbling sigh that he earns from the press of his lips- the way Zevran's hands slide up his shoulders to bury in his hair- encouraging little tugs that he's used to say 'yes, bite me here'.

He's come to enjoy wearing Taas' bruises thoroughly- earning them is equally delightful.

He's not hard to coax and he closes his teeth around that curve of pretty tattooed skin, hard but not enough to bleed. Not yet. Zevran is just too damn good to him, eagerly offering all this beautiful amount of elf in his lap and letting him manhandle that amazing body.

(And a small part of him was happy to not be a dirty little secret for once.)

Letting his hands wander to grope and stroke the elf through the leathers for a moment of teasing, he then abruptly lets go and instead stands up, hoisting the elf with him. "Lead the way," he rumbles, brown eyes dark with desire.

Now that isn't fair at all- so large and warm Taas' hand that being groped is much like being ground against and he wants that- aches for it in no small way. He curls tighter against Taas' chest, hips rolling against his hand, legs locked tight around his ribs for more leverage, more pressure, more anything-

That he stands so easily has never gotten old. Zevran crackles a pleased laugh- just as he has every other time. "The hold. My bed. Alistair can find somewhere else for the night."

Taas smirks, knowing exactly what he had done to the elf (and himself) with those teasing movements. Now they just had to slink off and follow up.

It was a bit surprising to hear that Zevran suggested his own room, but the qunari was not going to question it. Instead he's already heading for the hold with the elf draped in his arms, laughing at some of the looks - and cheers, if he didn't mistake it - as he passed by.

"Kicking out your roommate for this? I'm flattered."

Taas deserves a thorough ravishing in a proper bed- and now that he had the fine, satin sheets to ruin and Taas? Would be the best person to rend them. What better way to call in the new year than enveloped in his own tempest?

Zevran crackles a laugh at the catcalls, arms looped around his shoulders and leaning up to press teasing kisses to his jaw and tips of his ears, moving back into view shortly afterward. "You are worth it."

There's a low chuckle in the qunari's chest as he reads those words off Zevran's lips, the lingering feeling of those little kisses is making him hungry for more. A proper bed would be perfect, wouldn't it? Romps on haylofts and against walls and wherever possible was one thing, but he liked being spoiled once in a while.

Plus Zevran against silk sheets was a really nice thought. "You better undress, or I'll rip your clothes off."

"And ruin my good shirt? Perish the thought!" He crackled a laugh, more than pleased to lead Taa's all the way to his quarters, sparing the odd glance for those that saw them but thoroughly engaged in nibbling kisses or running his hands along his shoulders and face.

[ ooc: and continued here ]

OPEN: this will be a better year

Bonfire

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