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