[ 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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He moves his arms to rest a hand on the side of Zevran's face. His thumb strokes over Zevran's cheek before he leans into to kiss him. This time it's not chaste or sweet. The heat of it matches the dance, it's seductive and passionate. He finally stops the grinding to focus entirely on sharing the kiss.
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While he's not certain what manner of dance this might be- he's more than familiar with the steps. Enough to slip his hands up Cyril's back to hold him close, lips opening under the slow, sensual assault of Cyril's kiss.
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The kiss lasts for as long as Cyril can handle it. He deepens it, pressing into Zevran as he does. His tongue explores and teases as he tastes as much of Zevran as he can.
He only breaks it to breathe and then he keeps his face close to Zevran's. "We ought to save the rest for when we're alone," he says, his voice low. He doesn't mind being watched when it comes to dancing and kissing, but the idea of anything more seems to be a little too much for now.
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nsfw language and stuff.
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The loft it is. He leans away from Cyril long enough to gesture to the band, the lutist snorting at his emphatic arching of his brows. Any that came for him while he was missing? Would be bid to wait for an your. "I think I ought to give you something to hold you over until later tonight, mm?"
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[ continued here ]