faderift | [ OPEN ] Tonight I'm gonna have myself a real good time

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[ OPEN ] Tonight I'm gonna have myself a real good time

WHO: Zevran and YOU
WHAT: Zevran's Birthday and Ardent Blossom Contest
WHEN: Forward dated to Guardian 5
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Shenanigans connected to this announcement

Someone had been a sneaky little shit, preying on Zevran's lack of familiarity with traditions and dates and the weight people tend to put on something so mundane as a 'birthday'. Someone (Alistair) had spread word and made a thing of it, despite Zevran not seeing the point nor truly wishing to cause a fuss. He had, however, decided to take a day for himself to do nothing. No fuss, no stress, no real work. A day to indulge in a few of his many hobbies. He did not know what one did on their birthday normally but here he was, sitting in the Courtyard with one of his found spoils on his head, awaiting those that paid mind to his earlier announcement. When he wasn't idly sketching whoever he saw in the courtyard he was in the Herald's rest, enjoying a quiet drink and making notes on the better stories or songs he has heard throughout the day.

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Simon didn't plan on any elaborate song and dance to win a crown for himself, though he was curious enough to see one. And it did provide a convenient excuse to see Zevran in regards to certain rumors he'd heard about this particular day. The healer made the time to put his work aside for an hour or so, tucking a modest package into a bag and heading for the courtyard. It wasn't an unusual sight, the mage often made trips to the quartermaster or the gardens for supplies, but this time he veered off after spotting the elf working over some parchment in the courtyard.

"Hm, no...no I don't imagine I'd be able to wear one of those nearly as well," Simon observed aloud as he got close enough. Every time they met Zevran proved to be an incorrigible flirt. It was 'casual', and though Simon had made it clear he was absolutely awful at 'casual', the mage had slowly begun to try. Flirting, that was. Nothing more than that. Did a birthday gift count as more? No, probably not...hopefully not.

Sketching loosely, for the most part. People he's met, people he missed, people he lost. All woven in and out and around faces that came by the courtyard either to manage their own business or those that came for him in particular. Lounging with indolent grace, dressed in finer things than he normally would bother with for today was to be a day of indulgence, yes? More than the crown and his hair pinned away he wore a shirt as red as blood, open at the collar to show the tanned skin of his chest; a black brocade vest fitted tightly in a contrast to the loose sleeves of the shirt, and dark Antivan leather trousers as thin and clinging as a second skin.

At Simon's approach he set aside his charcoal and waved him close- there was room on the bench next to him after all. "I do not know, Bello, I think you might manage terribly well.

It was impossible not to catch a glimpse of what Zevran was working on, but it would have been rude to try and peer over his shoulder for a closer look. Though part of him was curious. Instead he took the invitation to sit near the elf, resting the bag at his feet. Simon himself didn't look near as fancy, the laces under his tan jerkin done up to the hollow of his throat. Back straight he leaned forward slightly, fingers folding together between his knees...he didn't look it, but this was actually quite relaxed for Simon.

"You're very kind to say so," Simon answered with a 'trying something new' sort of bend to his smile. "But you'd still look better. It's the color."

Simon never liked himself in reds.

He flicked the journal to the previous page, Keiran and his fondness for the boy was something he did not care to have known well, but Simon knew he spent time with River so him seeing the sketch of her mid step in dance? Was not so damning. It might even bring greater warmth to Simon's eyes. He could do with a little more warmth. "Were they blue or violet, perhaps, they might suit you."

Without thought nor true intent he reaches out to curl his hand around Simon's, bringing it to his lips for a chaste kiss.

The shifting page was deliberate enough to be taken as an invitation, drawing Simon's eye, missing the sketches of Keiran and finding River instead. That Zevran drew at all was something of a surprise, that he'd draw his sister was an even greater one. He'd had reservations about the admitted assassin taking an interest in River...he had reservations about anyone taking an interest in River. But the time they spent together seemed innocent, and she seemed to enjoy it, and if she was dancing again...

He'd never actually seen her dance. He knew she loved it, she'd write about the latest steps she was learning while they were growing up, but being in the Circle meant he'd only ever been told. And by the time the siblings were reunited, dancing was the last thing on either of their minds.

The tension slips out of Simon's shoulders as his smile changes, becoming something soft and warm and wistful. He missed Zevran reaching for him until his hand was in the elf's, drawing it up and oh. Simon was quite red now, from his ears to his neck, and it really shouldn't catch him by surprise anymore but somehow it kept happening. His hand didn't go anywhere all the same, his fingers only curling back around Zevran's in response.

"Ah...what? Oh. Blue or--yes. That probably would look better..." he managed to answer, watching that point where Zevran's lips met his knuckles. "Or I'd...just give it to River..."

"You should come watch her in the courtyard, some time. She dances as though the wind itself carries her, and she climbs- it brings her joy to do so." He did not release Simon's hand, holding if for a moment longer to turn it about in his grasp and press a gentle kiss to the skin of his wrist. A tender thing, faintly intimate, entirely without expectation before he released him. He had earned a blush. That? Was more than enough for him.

But to imagine Simon blushing and pleased, smiling so sweetly at anyone, even his sister, with a crown of flowers upon his head? That made for a fine mental image. Fine enough that he flicked to the nearest empty page to begin roughing out the shape of his jaw. "She would look fair and fine with one of her own. As would you."

Really shouldn't be surprised...it was just Zevran's way, Simon had eventually learned, but he still felt his chest tighten as the kiss shifted onto thinner skin. The blush was going to be stuck for a while now. The mage withdrew his hand after it was released, fingers tracing over the spot on his wrist and trying not to start thinking too much about it. He liked the bit of attention, even if part of him strongly insisted that he shouldn't, that it wasn't a good idea to get involved, the fact that it stopped there was enough for Simon to let himself have that one small thing.

"I get pulled into my work too easily," he admitted. "It's something I need to work on...or work less on, I suppose I should say. Spending time with her doing something normal would be nice..."

Simon's words trailed off, taking notice of the new drawing. Now he couldn't help himself. Simon rested his hands on the bench and slid nearer, trying to get a closer look without blocking Zevran's light.

"...doing anything normal would be nice," he added. "Ah, do you mind if I watch?"

"Taking an hour or so out of your day to be with her and simply be her brother- I think she might like that." Healers were wonderful individuals but they often forgot to treat friends as friends and spent more time treating them as patients. As he benefited from such things more often than not, he made a point to leave it be. But...River needed more than he could give with their lessons. He could teach more but family was to help with such things.

Dance, music. Running along the ramparts.

He tilted his journal for Simon to watch the planes and angles of his face come into being. "Of course. You do not even have to hold still if you do not wish."

"When you put it that way I feel sort of heartless," Simon said with a touch of wry humor. It wasn't really true, but he still felt like a bit of a bastard for not spending more time with River that wasn't related to her treatment. When the majority of his work was dedicated to finding a cure for her, surely that made up for it? Maybe when he actually had something it would.

So, yes. Dance and music and...whatever else she might like. Probably anything that wasn't boots and medicine at this point.

That all was put on hold in his thoughts when Zevran told him who was drawing. With a proper look...yes, that was shaping up to be him. Simon's smile softened and warmed again, flattered anew. And it wasn't even his birthday. Though on that thought, the mage bent down towards his bag, tugging open the satchel and pulling out a package wrapped in cloth. It was kept in his lap for the time being, waiting for the right moment.

"...actually, I should thank you for spending time with her," he said. "And...apologize for the reservations I had at first."

"You are a healer, she knows this, I know this. You bend to your task with a singular devotion that is more than admirable." He shrugged. What one did or did not do wasn't his affair, but River seemed to long for a little less the healer and more the brother. Why that might be he could not say. But he could make mention of it and watch.

Perhaps something might even come of it.

The lines on the page softened in places for shadows, sharpened for the finer details- the pattern of his vest, the strands of his hair, the curve of his lashes. Little things that he paid attention to, a great deal of work went into Simon's eyes. "She needs something to focus on- and I do not blame you for your reservations. I am an assassin. Most are reserved about me."

Something would come of it. Simon was a dutiful man and the gentle reminder that he had shirked on something, even inadvertently, would not go ignored. Maybe he should learn to dance with her...or have her try to teach him the steps she knew, as the Circle hadn't exactly included that in the curriculum.

The thought worked its way through his head along with a few others as Simon was content to watch the drawing be worked to life. It was a good likeness, though Simon wondered if it was a little bit idealized. Still he waited, fingers brushing over the cloth covered package in his lap, for the marks to slow to a stopping point.

"Still, I shouldn't have worried," he said. "You're hardly the only person in Skyhold to have taken a life...and even if your reasons for it were a little... The point is you're more than that. You've helped me and you're helping River still. You're a good man, Zevran."

So many continue to say that to him- perhaps one day he might believe it. For now he huffed a soft laugh and finished the sketch with a flourish, Simon bent over a mortar and pestle, grinding out a poultice, hair a little mussed and eyes focused, but tired. "My reasons are hardly noble but, I appreciate the sentiment."

"How bad could they be?" Simon asked, still watching the drawing finish. A familiar pose for him...which would explain how Zevran was able to pull it from memory. The mage leaned back, wondering if that was meant to be another, gentler hint. "Surely it's not all part of an elaborate seduction..."

Because Zevran was a flirt, but that wasn't all there was. He'd proved that with River already. Whatever his motives were for doing good things, they couldn't touch the bad things Simon had done for good reasons.

"Normally one frowns on killing for spite or profit." And here he was, having made a living with both. He finished the last shade of Simon's smile and turned the page to him, brow quirked. "An elaborate seduction for you would include a lavish dinner, a long massage, perhaps a soak and steam in the hotsprings, and notes of poetry left in your things each morning for the better part of a month."

"That all sounds...I'd like that. Maybe when things are closer to normal," Simon mused, shifting to get a better look at the finished sketch. Did he just agree to let Zevran seduce him at some point in the future? Apparently. It was just flirting, right? Zevran insisted there was no harm in it, that it was only casual. Simon chose to keep believing it.

"But if it isn't that, and you're not being paid to keep my sister company," Simon went on. "Then I still have to say you're not as bad as you say."

Which brought him to the package still in his lap. Simon's lips thinned between his teeth before he offered it at last over the cloth covered gift. A new whetstone to keep his daggers sharp and a hefty bottle of oil to keep his leathers soft and quiet. Considering Simon's gift was meant to help Zevran kill, it was clear he didn't exactly frown on it.

"...this isn't payment, by the way," he sad as he offered it. "I heard it was your birthday. So..."

"Simon- a word from the wise, yes? There is never going to be 'closer to normal'. The world reels between one crisis and another and shall continue to do so as long as there are people with more power than good sense." Be they human, mage, ancient old god living in a dragon or otherwise. It simply was the way of things.

And still.

He was not so bad, he saw something in River that reminded him of himself- telling Simon that much felt impolitic and thus was avoided. But the gift- he knew the difference now. "...You know- When Jonas first gave me a pair of Dalish gloves- I did not understand what it was to be given a gift. He'd slipped me bars of gold or silver on the road- payment. But the gloves...they weren't currency. I would like to think now I am better able to tell the difference between the two."

Zevran accepted the package delicately, unwrapping it with a soft smile.

It was nice to wish for normal, but deep down Simon did know better. Perhaps that was why his gift for Zevran was so viscerally practical. The whetstone and leather oil weren't nice things. They were meant to keep the assassin safe in a world where he very likely would have to kill again. The mage twisted his smile, tilting his head to concede the point. Hopefully actually saying out loud that things would be normal someday hadn't cursed them all to an imminent catastrophe. Or at least not another one.

As for the line between gifts and payments, Simon still remembered with embarrassment their first meeting, where he'd found a way to imply that he wanted to pay Zevran for his company. He'd made a few missteps back then, including not recognizing the Antivan elven assassin as that Antivan elven assassin. The one who had accompanied the Hero of Ferelden some ten years ago. He might have made a deal of it if he'd realized it back then, but now it didn't seem relevant...until Zevran brought it up of course.

"Well...good," Simon said, hoping he still came off as playful. "So long as that's clear. It might not be as fancy as something from the Hero of Ferelden, but I hope you like it all the same."

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[ OPEN ] Tonight I'm gonna have myself a real good time

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