[ OPEN ] Heart's on fire

[ombranera]

WHO: Character(s)
WHAT: Zevran Aranai's School for Rogues Who Can't Sneak Good and Want to Do Other Stuff Good Too.
WHEN: Wintermarch, all month
WHERE: Skyhold: Courtyard, Stables, Rookery, Battlements, etc
NOTES: Sass, Stealth, and Violence

He had mulled over the notion for a few weeks now; watching the soldiers take themselves to task, the warriors practicing as best they could; the mages training in their spells and thought- aside from combat (and even then there were tricks soldiers did not always think to teach) how was a rascal, a scoundrel, a rogue to learn more tricks? A well trained operation of any sort had well trained members of all sorts; the bruisers, the wizards, the rogues. Perhaps it was high time someone did something for the sneakier sorts.


[ Courtyard ]

Every lesson starts the same- a quick lap around the courtyard as fast as possible, vaulting over people and structures, running along the wall, making use of all the same skills that kept him alive all those years in Antiva City. For those that did not know them? The tricks came as a brief primer after the lap was finished- even a brief demonstration is offered. Afterward he runs them through a few training locks set into empty chests, some of the them wound with ringing alarms for the sake of practice. Trip the wrong tumbler? Off goes the alarm. After that it's stealth and pickpocketing. Sneaking about through a field of tripwires connected to more ringing bells and powder packets, a veritable labyrinth. Any bells go off, any powder on your person? You go through again. One of the training dummies has been re-purposed with bells and pouches on it- each pouch has a bell attached. They're timed and told to get as many as possible without ringing any bells. Ring a bell? Run a lap.


[ Stables ]

Here there is room enough for him to demonstrate proper trap production and dismantling. Every wound spring, every steel mechanism. They start with the basic bladed traps- though none of the blades are sharpened and none of the powder explosions hold more than dye. Once they've made traps that are...decent or satisfactory, Zevran walks them through detection and dismantling. Some of the practice traps have trick springs and triggers- if set off they'll be dusted with powder instead of losing their fingers. Later he goes through a list of common poisons and venoms to create and how to build up a tolerance for them. He does not provide them with samples this early on.


[ Battlements ]

Rappelling and dueling and improvisational combat and you! Here Zevran shows them how to climb, how to fall, how to make their own ropes when they've none of their own, how to throw a rappel to make it stay, how to haul it down, and how to dual wield on uneven ground. Demonstrations with Isabela and sparring with whoever wishes to take their turn happens throughout the day as requested; Zevran also covers grappling, breaking holds, and how to fight dirty. An honorable rogue is a dead rogue after all.


[ Wildcard ]

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Comments

[ombranera]

"Let me see..." He peels off his gloves and rests them upon his shoulders, squeezing lightly at the tension he finds there. About as much as he'd expect after a hard day's work- and a little more besides. "Ooh, tresoro, you are all tied up in knots- and not the fun kind."

[samahl]

Cyril relaxes a bit to the touch of Zevran's bare hands. He thrives on that kind of attention. The joke about fun knots makes him chuckle.

"I know. I'd much rather have the fun kind, even more if the rope has been dyed some beautiful color."

[ombranera]

"Well I do seem to have quite a bit of free time tonight...and silken rope dyed crimson on it's way from Antiva." One of the simpler requests he'd made of Krem, but the list was long and more than worth whatever he might pay.

[samahl]

He seems pretty impressed and amused by that. "How is it that you almost always say exactly what I want to hear," he asks. He's really glad that he met Zevran and that Zevran constantly pleases him.

[ombranera]

"It is my own brand of magic." A joke, as he is nothing of the sort. Honestly the idea of having that kind of power terrifies him; but this? he might joke over. Tease. He tugs Cyril back against his chest, hooking his chin over his shoulder. "Perhaps we should move elsewhere, mm? You need a thorough oiling."

[samahl]

Cyril leans back instinctively and then reaches up, bending his arm a bit so that he can touch the side of Zevran's face for a moment. It's really just an affectionate pat more than anything. "Right now, I'm pretty sure I'd follow you almost any where." That's not entirely accurate, but close enough. "Especially if there's oil involved."

[ombranera]

Zevran turns his face enough to press a quick kiss to Cyril's palm.

"Hotsprings. I've something for your skin and something for your hair, though yours does not need it quite so badly as a few others I might name." How Cyril kept his so soft and fine while living in the woods is a mystery to Zevran- but one he'll happily leave alive.

[samahl]

Cyril pulls away then but uses that same hand to grip onto Zevran's. He holds onto him, intertwining their fingers as he does. "Everyone can use a bit of pampering now and again. Let's go." He knows it's a little childish to want to hold Zevran's hand, but honestly it's more about the contact for him.

[ombranera]

Far from finding it childish- Zevran is charmed by the gesture, bringing their joined hands up to kiss the back of his hand once before guiding him from the Courtyard. "We shall have to stop by my quarters for the oils- but it should not be so long a detour."

Unless AListair was there, then there might be questions. 'Oh who is your friend Zev, he's very pretty, are you two...?' and so on. His less than subtle nudgings for him to find more are tolerable, but a little grating.

[samahl]

Cyril chuckled a bit. "That's if I don't end up trying to convince you to stay where your bed is." The hot springs sound like too good of an idea to give up on.

[ombranera]

"Mmm...having you on my red silk sheets does appeal mightily. But a good soak and oiling after a hard day's work is slightly more appealing." But only by a hair. "Another time. You have my word, Tresoro."

[samahl]

"I will take you up on that," Cyril promises. He's grinning though because he knows that they're both willing to do that. He doesn't have to work to make it happen. "The soaking does sound wonderful."

[ombranera]

Zev pauses outside his room, managing the lock and the two wire traps strung across the entrance. They remain untripped- so no one has come snooping about. He opens the door for Cyril to step in a moment- his things and Alistair's intermingled on the worktable, boots by the bed, a pack and a bedroll that goes unused more often than not. "Sweet or spice, for you?"

[samahl]

"Sweet," Cyril responds. He looks around the room curiously. They've had sex in the stables, and in the bedroll Zevran had when they first arrived, and they've been handsy under the table, but it's the first time he's actually been in this room. "This time. Next time, we'll do spice."

[ombranera]

"I thought as much." He pulls honeyed and floral oils from his kit, along with soap from Antiva and what he used to keep his hair clean and soft. It ought to work for Cyril just as well. The room is an even blend of function and sentiment, a scarf hand knit draped over the back of his chair, pressed flowers sticking out of the corners of a book, coins with no value weighing down scraps of parchment; gifts from his companions.

Things with no real value, but worth much to him. "Come. If we hurry we ought to have at least an hour down there without being interrupted."

[samahl]

Cyril takes note of some of those things, but doesn't comment on them. He's far more interested in getting the the hot springs. "Let me help carry some things," he says. He knows they're small and Zevran can handle them all, but he still wants to help. He likes being pampers, but also enjoys being an active participant.

[ombranera]

"Well, if you must." He offers the soap and one of his combs for detangling his hair, something finely carved of bone. Simple and elegant, much like everything he favors. "Shall we, Tesoro?"

[samahl]

Cyril nods and they head off. Along the way he does ask one question, "What does that word mean?"

[ombranera]

"Tesoro? Treasure." He smiles, tugging Cyril close enough to press a kiss to his lips, soft and chaste. "For you are quite precious."

[samahl]

Cyril hums happily at the kiss. The answer to his question leaves him grinning a little stupidly. Even though he realizes that Zevran might call others that, their relationship was never about monogamy. "I do try," he says, once again showing off how little shame he as at accepting compliments.

"I should think of something to call you, though knowing me it would be less endearing more more extremely naughty."

[ombranera]

"Zev is what my friends call me." And they are friends after a fashion. Friends that have sex, good sex, often. What better kind of friend is there?

Honestly for all that he has many lovers, each has their own name, not shared with any other. Tesoro is Cyril's and Cyril's alone.

[samahl]

"Zev is much easier. I can leave off a whole 'ran', and that can just get exhausting," Cyril answers, joking now. He ignores the way his stomach flips at being called a friend by Zevran. "Though that's still not as poetic as being called a treasure."

[ombranera]

"Perhaps there is a word in your Elvhan that you find appropriate?" He cannot think of anything off the top of his head, but he dos not know the language.

[ ooc: continued here ]