But I would walk 500 miles, and I would walk 500 more!

[ombranera]

WHO: Zevran and any on the road!
WHAT: Walking, drinking, dancing, dirty songs and poetry while hiking to Skyhold. Perhaps a stop in a tavern or two along the way.
WHEN: The course of several days on the road.
WHERE: The Road to Skyhold, Skyhold itself
NOTES: Zev is a walking content warning coarse language, innuendo, drinking

Strange how after a solid year of hiking over hill and dale, through Imperial Highways and muddy side tracks he'd sworn to never do so again no matter the company or the cause. And yet here was Zevran yet again on foot (an elf with a horse attracted too much attention in the area) walking the long way to Skyhold with the odd thumb out for any passing caravan- provided they were not bandits. Company he did not mind. Burglary? Less so. From what little he'd heard of the events at Haven and his concern for a country that had been, for all to brief a time, a home of sorts, Zevran made his merry way along the road to this fortress rumored to be the best option for a strategic regroup. Perhaps he would meet someone familiar, perhaps he might offer his services.

The options were many. As were the songs that he would use to amuse himself, strumming a worn, well sanded lute while he walked. Now and then snatches of Antivan would curl through the air, lilting and easy and- to anyone that understood? Absolutely filthy.

"Le mie gambe sono avvolte intorno a voi collo,
Il tuo cazzo nella mia strada, spinte e agitare!
Ero a letto , ma ora sono in questo petto .
Cosa stai mi dà grande piacere!"

So on and so forth from one tavern to the next on the long trek, if coaxed and if it would see him fed or paid, he would play a few of the softer, more romantic tunes he knew. But for the most part? Smut. Quite a bit of smut. It wasn't as though anyone truly understood him all that often.

His actual arrival was a little less Merry, he had to give one thing to wandering bandits. When they coordinate well enough for a solid ambush and attack en masse? It wasn't the simplest fight to handle alone. Escaping unscathed wasn't entirely possible but he had managed to find a group of either merchants or refugees or a mix of both, he wasn't all that certain, to walk with for the last streatch. One even deigned to allow him to ride the last leg in- provided he rode on the back of the cart and entertained them. As such Zevran's arrival was marked with his voice crackling out past laughter.

"'But yes, she asks, what is the difference?' and I tell her-

'The difference is in where you put the cucumber.'"

Comments

[slipshot]

Gavin gave an answering grin that gave absolutely no indication of whether he recognized the flirting or was completely oblivious to it.

"Well, if you've come to join the Inquisition, I suspect we'll have plenty of time. It's nice to see one of the people, though, and nicer to hear a laugh or two. I'll warn you that laughter has been hard to come by, lately."

Despite his words, Gavin seemed in quite a pleasant mood, and he scanned Zevran for himself. "Been on the road a while?"

[ombranera]

Best to double down to be certain. "Oh? Does that include one on one sessions where someone might inquisite me?"

That word shouldn't have so much innuendo, not enough vowels to really drag across like a proper seduction requires but Zevran was nothing if not game for a challenge.

"Ah well. If I might earn my ride in joy rather than coin? More the better for all involved. I am glad we arrived when we did, I am nearly out of dirty limericks."

[slipshot]

The grin slid up his lips just a little further and he chuckled. "I'd like to think we could be a little more creative than that," he quipped back.

"Dirty limericks? Alright, I'm in. I'll trade you two for a pint of ale, and a welcome tour to the castle, if you'd like one."

[ombranera]

Ah, there they were. Excellent. "How creative? I am an elf of the world after all, I have seen and done many things."

And people, but that would go without saying.

"As you wish." He spread his hands and made a half bow- normally he would go for the full court sweep but his ribs were not quite cooperating. Done all with a smile he snapped back up, cleared his throat, and began.

"There was a young lady named Claire
Who possessed a magnificent pair;
Or that's what I thought
'Til I saw one get caught
On a thorn, and begin to lose air."

[slipshot]

"Well, I'm sure as a pair of worldly elves, we could figure out something entertaining."

He couldn't help it - he laughed. He had been about to try to play it cool - to chuckle, at the moment, with a sly glance, but he ended up laughing, instead. A deep, honest, laugh - the kind that one really only could do out of relief of being able to laugh at all. He managed to pull it down into an almost giggling chuckle, before motioning for Zevran to follow him.

"Come on, then. The pub's this way. Creators-- Going to take me ten minutes to get that image out of my head."

[ombranera]

Playing the pretty fool was often the safest way to learn more of his new surroundings, to peg targets and assets and who he might be more or less around as needed. The rules were different when engaging with elves but it seemed to be proving true. Well humored, clever, and somewhat weary.

Most would be.

"That one is a true story." Some of them were, some of them weren't. The funniest ones tended to be true. Something about the truth being stranger than fiction. "She was attempting to smuggle lyrium powder by strapping it to her bosom underneath the false chest. I may have been heartbroken."

[slipshot]

Gavin really didn't need to play the fool. Luck had more to do with him being alive than anything else. He was all too willing to take Zevran just as he appeared.

People were often better if you took them how they wanted to be, rather than what they were, anyway. (If that made any sense at all.)

"That sounds like it could have gone horrifyingly badly," Gavin remarked with a lopsided grin. "Not a bad idea for smuggling, I suppose, though I'm afraid it wouldn't work if I tried it..."

[ombranera]

"Provided you don't mind traveling as a fat elf? It could be done." Though finding one of THOSE was a rare thing. They did not pack it on quite so well as most humans- nor were they ever fed so well as to have the fat to spare. "Mmm. Perhaps if you did not mind dressing as a woman for the entirety of the trip? Most humans can't quite tell until we begin speaking, I've noticed."

[slipshot]

"I wouldn't mind, but I think anyone travelling with me might," Gavin said with a grin, trying to picture it, but imagining a carrot with breasts was... well. He liked his women slightly less ridiculous looking.

He pushed the door to the tavern open, immediately signaling to the bartender for some ale. The stores were far from up to standard - after all, most had been destroyed in Haven - but Fereldans were never far from their beer, and Gavin wasn't picky.

It wasn't until he was handing Zevran his glass that he realised he'd been rude.

"Gavin, by the way. Clan Ashara." He offered a smile. "Welcome to the Inquisition."

[ombranera]

"Sadly, we are not built for such massive tracts of land." It'd be comical indeed. Has been the few times he'd seen stuffed smallclothes for the sake of attracting suitors.

But those were thoughts for another time, another place- the warmth and clamor of the tavern was almost a warm welcome home for Zevran. People from all over and still a highly Fereldan sensibility about it. Doubtless the ale will be much the same but he could endure. Ale was ale, unless it came from Oghren. Then Ale was either marvelous or highly questionable.

"Zevran Arainai of Antiva." Ale accepted he offered Gavin his hand in turn. "A pleasure to meet you, Gavin."

[slipshot]

He took the hand and shook it warmly.

"Likewise," He said, smiling. "I don't think I've laughed in days. I'll have to repay you, later. If you can keep it up, I think a lot of people here could use a dirty limerick or five - It's been a long haul." He found them a table and threw himself into the chair in a way that was either incredibly clumsy or oddly graceful, and leaned back.

"So, the golden question, I suppose: What brings you to our illustrious company?"

[ombranera]

"In coin, in smiles, or in more sordid means?" He was open and willing to accept any or all three in any combination. After all, he was terribly easy. "Perhaps a few rounds on the lute will lighten their spirits. It has been a difficult time for the past few years and does not look to be improving. I myself would feel worried if this were not at least somewhat familiar."

A decade ago, sure, but familiar none the less.

"There shall come a band of misfits from all sorts and corners that shall come together and find a way to mend this. It is how the tales go after all, and even the strangest of them hold a glimmer of truth." He'd lived through one. It'd been marvelous and more than a little life changing, he hoped this round about wouldn't be much different. How many more revelations could one Elf take?

"Well...to lend my skills to those in need of them- for a price. Also I happen to enjoy living in a world without demons or large swaths of war. I could wait for someone else to handle it or step forward."

[slipshot]

"I think that depends entirely on how the rest of this evening goes, don't you?" Gavin teased back, offing a grin - which turned into a real smile at mention of the lute. He hadn't heard music in a while, save for their resident bard, whose songs had been quite mournful the last few days.

That being said, the more Zevran spoke, the more something tugged at the back of his mind. An annoying little pull, something in his memory he couldn't quite place.

"And these skills include dirty poems, the lute, and flirting, I suppose?" He asked, still teasing. "Or do you have something more deadly in your arsenal as well?"

[ombranera]

"Well, I should hope." And he would do everything he could to make certain that it's beyond 'well', provided it doesn't include anything overly strenuous. The shoulder was beginning to sting a bit. And ah, a proper smile. How wonderful!

It was enough for him to take another deep swig and set the glass aside to pull it from his pack, drumming his knuckles along the belly. His own percussion and strings for most Antivan dance songs- he knew those techniques better than the Orlesian pluck and flair. "Is it so impossible that I am both a lover and a fighter? I am an elf of many talents after all."

[slipshot]

"An elf who is certainly willing to talk about his talents, at least," Gavin said, but the teasing had absolutely no malice in it.

The sight of the lute, however, brought obvious and sincere pleasure, and he pulled his chair around so that he could get a better view as Zevran fiddled with it.

"I'll freely admit I have absolutely no musical talent," He said warmly. "But I appreciate any man who does."

[ombranera]

"There is no shame in taking pride in my skills. They are wide and varied, wondrous and sensual." He began strumming in earnest- something easy and mindless while he focused on the wordplay- and the play of light on Gavin's skin.

Mmmm. Dalish. So fey, so sweet.

"An enjoyment of deft hands is a wise thing, my friend."

[slipshot]

Gavin, on the other hand, was simply enjoying letting himself relax - and to feel honest pleasure in the elf's company, and the music as it started slowly from those long fingers.

"Oh, I don't blame your pride," He said, taking a sip as he smiled. "Rather the contrary. I'm simply always curious to see demonstrations. Deft hands or otherwise." The last came out with a playful smirk.

"I think you still owe me another limerick," He teased. "Though a song would suit, of course."

[ombranera]

"A song or two and perhaps I might be convinced in giving you a more hands on demonstration, yes?" This light seduction was just the thing he needed after a long, lonely ride. Old habits fell into place as he gradually shifted his posture to lean closer to Gavin, angling himself in a way he was told made him quite alluring in the past, fingers not quite strumming but rather stroking the strings of his lute. It was almost obscene. Almost.

"As you wish." The stroking and strumming became something richer, deeper, slower, his voice carving out a private space just for Gavin's enjoyment.

"La bocca dolce che,
per come invita un umorismo tra perle distillati,
e di non invidiare quel sacro liquore
che ai ministri Giove il cameriere di partenza,

Gli amanti! Non toccare se si vuole vivere:
perché tra un labbro e di un altro colore
L'amore è il suo veleno armata , che
tra il fiore e fiore nasconde un serpente."

[slipshot]

"I'm not sure you want me to be attempting any songs," he teased, "But I'm willing to give anything a try, at least once."

He settled back as he watched Zevran play. The Antivan was mostly lost on him - he had a working grasp of a few languages, and could at least recognise it, but he couldn't make out more than a couple words.

However, the smile he offered was honest and grateful.

"I almost feel bad, now. You have a wonderful voice, Zevran. I'm not sure I have anything that--" But then it pinged. Zevran. He had heard that name before. He had!

He suddenly sat up, gesturing with his ale. "Wait! Zevran? The Zevran? Elven companion to the Hero of Ferelden?"

[ombranera]

"I can be a most thorough instructor when given cause, I am certain we may manage to make sweet music yet." The line was cheesy even to him, but good humor prompted lighter gestures rather than the honey leaden drip of his usual game. Besides. The back and forth was quite enjoyable already.

He finished the song with a flourish, stilling the strings with his palm when Gavin's mug was snapped about so quickly. Non spilled, thank the maker, but it looked to be a close thing.

"Well when you put it that way it makes me sound like some manner of consort- not that I didn't offer. He wasn't interested. A shame too, his shoulders alone..." Zevran needed a moment to recall fondly the shape of The Warden. Ah. Yes. There it was. "Mmmmm..."

[slipshot]

"I'm always eager to learn," He quipped in reply, taking the cheesy line easily, and as it was meant.

He watched Zevran wander off into his own thoughts and laughed, a blush tinting his ears and cheeks. "Alright, point taken. Not a consort. Though next time, feel free to lie and tell me improbable tales about it." He set his ale down carefully, leaning over, elbows on his knees.

"I can't believe - you even introduced yourself, and I didn't realise. It was already a pleasure to meet you, but now I admit I'm a touch intimidated."

Not intimidated enough to cause the grin do fade, though.

[ombranera]

"Were it not for respect for his most beautiful wife? I would." Respect was stretching it just a touch, but Anora had proved a competent leader and a most skilled politician. HE could not blame her for what she did any more than he could blame the Warden for taking the steps he had.

"Now this is a bit nostalgic. Generally most people don't recall me- it has been some time. Immediately afterward, oh, the revels, the drinks purchased, the women, the men. All so attentive and swooning- give it a few years and the shine is worn off the tale." And only the bastard of Maric and The Warden are given due attention. It made life easier for him to be perfectly honest, but this? This was nice too. "It will be a story to tell your friends later. 'Ah yes, that roguish Zevran? I have met him.' And if you are particularly game? You might even kiss him."

[slipshot]

"It's rare enough when one of the people gains fame among the humans, we tend not to forget those that do." At the last, though, he laughed, the blush spreading slightly.

"I'm not usually one to kiss and tell," He admitted, though his eyes were quite fixated now. "Those stories I tend to keep to myself." A pause, before he wet his lips and offered a lopsided smile: "Though who knows, perhaps that particular story might be worth bending the rules for."

[ombranera]

"So even the Dalish have heard? They didn't seem terribly pleased to see me when I last passed through- then again I was trailing Crows. Its understandable." No one liked assassins being brought to and through their door.

Still, happier things were on the horizon. Quite aware of Gavin's attention Zevran paused in his strumming to sip a bit of his ale, letting the long swallow show off the shadows and tendrils at his neck, the barest hint of the continuing trail of his tattoos. "Perhaps we might bend more than just your rules, mm? Of course saying 'I have been kissed by Zevran' would prompt requests for proof, yes? I can leave my mark if you wish it."

[slipshot]

"I never said that they say good things about you," he teased. In reality - his clan was far enough from Ferelden that it was more simply a point of interest than a point of contention. And Gavin had a soft spot for elves that roamed a little off the beaten path, as it were.

It was impossible to ignore that drink - the muscles moving in Zevran's throat. Arousal kicked in his gut - both surprising and honest - and he tried to laugh it off.

"Maybe I'd want them to use their imagination," he replied, trying to avert his eyes from that tattoo and failing. "But I've always found that visual aids help my memory."