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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
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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The hand slipped into his over coat.
"...Unless of course, I happened to have a friend who's birthday it was, and I had been told that he'd never really had a birthday before... I would certainly have to rectify that." He did grin then, pulling the cloth wrapped bundle (a small, thin blade, meant for close, delicate work, sharpened and polished to a high shine, with a feather engraved on the hilt (wardens, griffons, wasn't he clever) out from under his arm and holding it out to Zevran. "Happy Birthday."
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That he did so and offered a gift, and one so fine? Zevran took the blade with quiet wonder, turning it about in his hands to test the balance, the weight, the sharpness. It was a beautiful piece, one he'd wear and use happily. The edge of his nail traced the curve of a feather as he offered Max a soft smile. "It is a marvelous dagger, my friend."
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"I know you have, ah, several," he replied, with a little crinkle of humor around his eyes. "But I figured a good knife is something one can never really have too many of. Especially in your line of work."
And it had been a nice - even fun - break from the ongoing effort of the locket and charm.
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A flourish, a smirk, and the blade vanished to one of his many hidden sheathes.
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One minute there was a knife, and the next there wasn't. And even having seen it, Maxwell wasn't entirely sure he could said where it had gone.
"I hope it serves you well, and if you ever have trouble with it, just let me know. I stand by my work."
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He'd already known Max to be different from most noble men he'd met in the past but this more or less cinched the lesson.
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"Blades aren't something I do a great deal of," he admitted. "I tend to stay with bow and arrow work, but it's nice to branch out sometimes. Plus, it seemed a better fit for you."
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Maxwell smiled. A simple pleasure warming in his eyes and he seemed to settle further, relaxing as some small uncertainty eased away.
"So, any other plans for this momentous day?"
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"A busy birthday boy," he teased, giving Zevran's knee a little bump with his own before he shifted to begin to stand. "I won't keep you then, but I hope you have a happy day, Zevran."
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