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

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

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.'"

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"Oh, no, it is. Now that you say it like that." Ellana chuckled softly. "Sadly, I'm not much of a healer myself, or the flower would be perfectly apt, at least by the descriptions you've placed on it and me."

"What is it you do for your clan, if I may ask?" Not a healer, not a hunter most likely, but he is curious.

"I'm the hearthmistress," she replied. "Or, well, was before coming here. I would keep the fires burning and gather plenty of wood. But that hardly took up too much of my day. I would then go all over the camp seeing where I could be of use." Trying to see where she could fit in, the third mage in the clan.

"I enjoyed assisting the halla keeper, and making baskets was relaxing. My mother was a basket weaver. I wished to help whoever I could whenever I could." The First and Second were trained to remember all their Dalish history and on how to lead. Ellana never had that. She was trained in how to use her magic, but not the other things a Keeper-in-Training would have learned.

"One who keeps the home warm and welcome for the rest of the clan, yes?" An important job from what little Zevran could recall of his time with the Dalish. "There is much to learn if you wish to be of use in the Inquisition, more I think than you may have had available to you in your Aravel."

And with how eager she seemed to learn everything? It would either be a marvelous adventure or utter disaster. "Did your clan bring halla with them? It's been...years since I've been among them. Horses are well and fine, magnificent creatures truly- but there's a serenity in the hallah that I find I've missed."

"I know," she replied, eyes sparkling at the very idea. Or maybe that was just the low lighting in the corner making her eyes shine. She wanted to experience so much, since she didn't know what lay ahead of them. What if that magister got what he wanted? They couldn't let that happen, but with the Herald gone, who knew what was next?

"No, but I hope others bring them here. Halla are wonderful creatures, and so hardworking, as long as you ask."

"I suppose that depends on if there are many other Dalish clans that feel as though they should offer the Inquisition their loyalty. "The liklihood of that- well. He did not know enough of them to say. "Perhaps with the sky opening and demons roaming the wild, they would feel it only right?"

"They might, or they might retreat from the world even more." Ellana frowned into her cup for a moment, taking a drink. "I hope it's the former. Everyone should be willing to do something to help, even if it's only in some small way." Like her. She was no warrior or military tactician. She could hold her own in a fight, but overall, Ellana just wanted to do what was right in whatever form she could. It was better than sitting around, wondering who was taking care of all this. She knew some of her clan only came because they assumed the shemlen would mess it all up, but she had wanted to be a part of something bigger than the clan.

"I think, perhaps, they may see the wisdom in joining. Or at least lending their assistance- there has been much strangeness in the forest from what I have heard. Who better to gauge it than those that know it best?"

"From what I've heard, there is strangeness everywhere." Rifts in the world were only the start of it. But Ellana felt it was better to be here and willing to face it all.

"What do you hope to do for the Inquisition, beside entertain us all with your lovely singing voice?" She set her chin in her hand, expression curious.

"Would you believe that I am an incredibly skilled rogue of many talents? Diplomat, spy, dancer, personal chef, assassin, hairdresser- that was a fun one let me tell you. Orlesian ladies are so picky about their wigs." What was wrong with adding a little flair to the mix? According to them, everything.

"I could believe that," she replied, even if she knew better than to believe those talents were really all things he excelled at doing. "And what is your favorite talent among all of those? It's quite the list, and I hope your favorite isn't tending to Orlesian ladies' false hair."

Without missing a beat or a moment of hesitation. "Assassin. Spying is all well and good and music is- well. It is a way of life. But my skills are what they are and I enjoy being good at what I do."

"I really can't fault you for that. I, of course, want to believe you only assassinate those who are horrible people, but that would be far too naive of me, wouldn't it?" The Inquisition gathered all sorts, and she couldn't judge people while knowing so little of their lives. "Things would be easier if people fell into simple 'good' and 'bad' columns, but life would be too predictable that way."

"Honestly? Over the past decade I've been more discriminating in accepting my targets. With the Crows it was the masters that would point and we would kill, no questions asked. Do as your are told no matter who it is you turn your blade against. Even if it was one of our own." Behind his smile there was a flicker of something old. Something pained before he blinked it away. "Small moves can mean for a larger fallout, I learned that some time ago. I make certain that whoever I kill? Has earned it. And when the time comes the kill is quick and clean. Assassination is a hunt like any other."

"That's good to hear, Zevran." It wasn't like she would have hated him if he hadn't said such a thing, but having that confirmation that he was more discerning was welcome news.

"It sounds like a hard life. You had no choice back then?"

"No Crow does. You do as you are told and have been raised to think it right." But this was drifting into heavier territory that he wasn't quite comfortable slipping into. "Now I think I promised you a lesson, yes?"

Ellana was learning plenty about the world already. Back in the clan, she could only do what she was told too, not wanting to upset their Keeper by running off like Gavin always did. But Zevran and his fellow Crows sounded far, far worse off. She at least had never had to worry that the clan would turn on her.

"You did. Should we go outside? I wouldn't want to subject anyone in the tavern to my practicing."

"By this time of day they are either too tired or too drunk to care. Besides, I shall be teaching you- and if you are skilled in basketweaving? You've the deftness of fingers to pick it up quickly." He set his drink aside to pull his lute from his back, offering it over. "You saw how I held it earlier, yes?"

"Oh, you shouldn't ever mistake me for being skilled at anything," she joked, taking the instrument from his hand. "I did." Her hand wrapped around the neck while the other rested flat against the front.

"What's the first step?"

"I have attempted to weave baskets myself- it is no easy task and you lack the welts and scars of one that has not handled the wicker well. I think you will be able to manage. So!" He claps his hands, moving around to sit next to her rather than across. "On the neck you hold her gently, fingers resting at the first fret like so."

Gently he puts his hand over hers, moving it up and positioning her fingers.

She'd never thought of it that way, assuming that her weaving was decent at best. Perhaps she'd inherited her mother's ability there.

"This is the fret?" she asked, letting him move her.

"The small line of wood there, under the string? That is the fret. You press down here-" He does so over her hand, pressing the strings in turn. "And that is the first chord. You strum with your nails on the belly, like so."

He demonstrates a simple strum, the chord quiet in the otherwise loud tavern.

Her lips twitch with a smile, enjoying the sound.

"Seems simple enough. How many chords are there?"

"There are quite a few- more than I could teach you in one sitting- but for now I shall show you three and that should be enough for a simple song, yes?" Baby steps. Walking before crawling and all that.

"Oh, yes, I should think so." Keeping her fingers on the chord, she strummed the strings once to get a feel for it and how it sounded.

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