[ 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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[ombranera]

They hadn't had the time, when he'd last been in Kirkwall. There had been crows and mercenaries, slavers and templars and...Marion. A fine woman that had a man's eye and Zevran knew when to roll dice and when to not. Tumbling into bed with the Champion and Isabela had been more than enough for him; though he would be lying to say Anders hadn't caught his eye at the time.

But he knows better than to be greedy. Knows what it is to deny himself something for the sake of sanity or safety. Anders? Has been aching quietly on his own for too long.

He pulls Anders in slowly, sweetly, inviting every slow twist and press of his mouth- every inch of him on offer without reservation.

[justice_is_blond]

A part of him wonders what the catch is. Where this stops, when something goes wrong. He doesn't want it to, but he knows his luck. Another part, the part with a different name, believes this to be an utter waste of time.

Anders' yearning for something overrides both his reservations and Justice's as he crowds the man and soaks up what's offered like a sandy shore soaks up sunlight. And that's what this is - warm, restorative, everything he wants and needs right now.

Despite himself he makes a quiet noise, hands clenching in Zevran's clothing as he opens his mouth to the kiss. There are so many things he's gone without because of Justice, because of the cause, and he'd forgotten how good they could be. How good they could feel.

It takes all of his strength to break the kiss for a moment. "Is this all right? With... Who I am, taken into account?" A no would be devastating, but he'd recover. He's not so sure he could if this goes any further and then Zevran shoves him away.

[ombranera]

No catch. No lie. No trick. Only empathy- a shared sentiment of knowing what it is to be haggard and alone, to not be able to trust anyone. Every day since he was a child, that has been Zevran's life outside of a few shining moments. If he can grant anyone that same light, that same kindness that made the blood and the paranoia worth wading through, then it is something worth doing.

Also it's been awhile since he's enjoyed that lightening trick. He's missed it. So that might be a catch.

He braces himself against Anders to give him something safe to fall into. To lean against while he curls his tongue against the Mage's, that same tang of ozone that he finds in most with power a heady thing. "Mmm?"

Oh, right. Questions of consent. Those are a thing. In a brief moment of seriousness, he rests their foreheads together. "Anders I have killed more people than you in the past six years alone. I have killed children in their cribs, mothers in their beds. What room have I to judge?"

None whatsoever. "Come down with me to the hot springs. I can show you how long I can hold my breath."

[justice_is_blond]

It shouldn't be a comfort to hear someone's killed more than he has. It's not, for Justice. But for Anders it is. In Zevran's eyes he's not some maniac, because Zevran doesn't view himself as one. Or likely doesn't. If he does, Anders doesn't want to know.

He makes a pleased noise at the invitation and brushes his lips against Zevran's once more before nodding. When he steps away and sets the lock and probes down it's with a slightly sheepish look.

"You may only have to hold your breath for a shamefully short time." The kisses alone had stirred his blood, and it's been some time since he's had anything other than his hand. That doesn't stop him from heading that way, though. Nearly nothing would.

[ombranera]

"You underestimate your stamina, my friend." Zevran crackles a laugh, though not unkindly. He tugs one of Anders' hands up to press a kiss to the back of it, a gallant gesture for a thoroughly vulgar elf. "We shall see for certain where you stand, yes?"



[ ooc: Continued here ]