[ CLOSED ] THE ANTIVAN CROWS SEND THEIR REGARDS

[ombranera]

WHO: Alistair, Araceli Bonaventura, Beleth Ashara, Anders Detlef, Korrin Ataash, Taashath, The Iron Bull, Twisted Fate, an Zevran Arainai. Guest Starring: Samouel, Cyril, and Merrick, Super Special Guest Star: Leliana.
WHAT: The Crows come for the Ombra Nera.
WHEN: Begins Guardian 6
WHERE: Skyhold/Antivan Border/The Road
NOTES: CW/TW FOR: Flesh hommonculi, violent/gruesome content, torture, blood magic, non-consensual drug use, adult content, adult language, reader discretion is advised. Sign up post, original plotting post, hit me on PM or @ thesouthernbelle if you have questions.

It's a normal morning in Thedas until, abruptly, it isn't. The Crows come calling; they are swift, they are certain, they are silent and leave behind but one witness that won't be alive for much longer (or so they assume). Prize in hand they ride North for Antiva.

Subthreads for portions of the plot are yours to tag around in as you like!

Comments

[ombranera]

"More or less." More honest than he'd like but- any twist of humor he could manage is slow in coming. The worst of the fog is gone but there remains a shaken uncertainty about him. Is he here? where is here? What had they done to him, is this another trick, another ploy-

But not even the Crows could know how he'd come to trust the Iron Bull. He was everything they were meant to fear. Powerful and canny. Fingers stumbling a little over the laces of his pack he tries, for the third time, to knot them. "Does it become easier?"

The eye. If Anders has not been able to mend it by now...

[qunari]

He'd thought so, when he first looked at it. He might not lose the eye, but it wasn't going to be doing him any good from here on out. Not unless the healer had a miracle or two up his sleeve.

Bull sighs quietly. "It's always gonna be a pain in the ass," he admits. "But you got two for a reason. You're still alive. Always room for improvement, then."

Regretting it now was just a waste of time. Thought for Zevran that might be harder to put into practice. He's still got those shakes, still raw on the edges.

"Want a hand with that?"

[ombranera]

"My depth perception is going to be shit." Angry, now, but he'd done this to himself. Insisted on carrying a sword. Stood at Alistair's side. Shoved him out of the way. Right now the practical is what he loops around over and over. To look deeper into it might be his undoing.

Adapt or die. He needs to adapt. It is unlikely that dying will solve anything, here.

"...Please." If he failed to tie a simple not one more time, he might scream. Or look for a knife.

[qunari]

Anger was better than despair. It was too easy to lose your grip and slide downwards when despair took hold. But Bull says nothing. Just patiently reaches in to hold the laces in place for him, making looping them easier no matter the tremor in his hands.

"You learn to judge in other ways. Hasn't slowed me down all that much."

[ombranera]

"You headbutt your opponents into submission, Toro." Not that he doubts Bull can manage finesse- he knows he's capable of quite a bit of it- but a Reaver and an Assassin work differently. This is going to take a great deal more work than he'd imagined.

And that is if this is real.

Slower than he'd like he manages to knot the laces. It is a small victory that rings hollow.

[qunari]

"Hey. Only some of the time."

When Zevran is done that hand shifts, closes quietly around his. It's true, it won't be the same relearning how to fight with one eye. It'll be even harder to work his way through all that shit they've managed to dig their hooks into and drag to the surface. None of this shit is going to be easy.

But Zevran's a survivor. It doesn't take Ben-Hassrath training to see that.

[ombranera]

"I am not about to start using an axe the size of myself in battle. It would look ridiculous." He doesn't flinch- which in it's own way is his way of flinching. But Bull's hand is large and warm and steady against his, more than enough for him to tip over and lean against him properly. It wasn't this warm in the fade, wasn't this warm in the cell.

[qunari]

Bull chuckles quietly. "Nah. You could pull it off. It'd have to be something flashy, though. Dawnstone, maybe."

He doesn't budge, lets Zevran lean into him, and keeps his hand wrapped around his in the meanwhile. They'd put him through some pretty intense shit, if they'd used half of what they mentioned on that list. Let him come to on his own terms.

He's good at being the rock to cling to, the fixed point. So Zevran's welcome to use him for that, if it comes right down to it.

[ombranera]

"Dawnstone is pink. The only thing more ridiculous is..." He snorts, and it's ragged but honest. "There was a Sten that traveled with us, yes? And while we were on the road some manner of Fereldan prank holiday came about. Do you know what Jonas gave him? A sword. A marvelous, well balanced sword- that was enchanted to leave a glimmering rainbow and glowing blutterflies about the pommel at all hours of the day."

The memory cracks something open in him that he can't place and he's giggling halfway through, cracking with laughter till he can hardly breathe through it.

[qunari]

"Perfect. We should see if he still has it."

Bull grins, watching as Zevran loses himself to laughter. The image is pretty priceless, even just to imagine, some stern-faced Sten hauling around a rainbow butterfly sword. He'd have paid coin to see that himself.

But the more important thing to see is right in front of him, right now.

[ombranera]

He laughs until he hiccups, hiccups until he looses a hitching sob that he silences by pressing a shaking hand to his mouth. He did not break then, he did not break on that hook and never broke in the fade. He will not break now.

Forehead pressed tight against Bull's arm he struggles to even out his breathing. To slow it, steady it, reaching for scraps of calm he does not have.

[qunari]

He's not breaking, no. But that poison needs an out. It'll come when he's ready to let it, but Bull can hardly blame him for not wanting to fall to pieces on the way back to the keep.

Instead he presses a hand to his back, warm. Steady.

"Breathe."

He's here. And Zevran's safe as it gets.

[ombranera]

Breathe. Like they are back in Bull's room and he's floating, drifting, doing nothing but what he's told.

He scrabbles for that place in the back of his mind but all he finds is more blood, more pain, and more uncertainty. But Bull's hand is solid on his back and that more than anything else helps him take the first slow, shuddering breath.

How safe can he be when he doesn't know if this is real?

[qunari]

"Just breathe. I've got you."

That's all he has to do right now. No one's expecting anything out of him for a good long while. They have an inkling of what he's gone through, even if they don't have all the gruesome details. Some of them might have a better idea than others, but none of them know.

It's enough that they got him out, physically. The rest of him will come along for the ride. He just needs time, and patience. That, he can give.

[ombranera]

It's such a simple thing- breathing. His chest aches as his lungs expand and he cannot shake the sensation of being a hallow shale, not entirely unlike blown glass. Like the barest nudge will have him cracking.

Who is he trying to fool- he has already cracked and been pasted back together haphazardly.

How long had he been hanging from that hook? Everything from the ambush to this latest iteration of 'the rescue' is a blur. He's tired of being wrong but wants so dearly for this to be it. For this to be true. His breathing evens out somewhat, nd he cannot help but wonder. "Why come?"

[qunari]

Short memory you've got.

[ A very small smile creases his lips, his hand moving in slow circles against Zevran's back. There's nothing harsh, nothing hard or rushed. Just the reassurance of touch. ]

I told you. If they came for you, I'd come get you out.

[ Will he even remember that conversation, crammed into that room above the tavern? He'd been pretty out of it then, and wasn't completely beyond that state in the here and now. ]

[ombranera]

Things said in the afterglow do not count.

[ He mumbles, turning and pulling until he's settled in Bull's lap. It's easier to feel safe, this way. ]

No one ever means it.

[qunari]

"That so?"

If this is where he feels safest, then this is where he gets to remain. Bull wraps his arms around the elf, so small against his frame, smaller still in the way he shrinks in against him. He imagines there must be some comfort in that, being surrounded by warmth, by someone who would stand and defend him.

He'd taken quite a few hits today. But it was worth it, in the end. All worth it.

[ombranera]

"You say it to be a good lover, for in the moment you are lovers- and when the moment is over and you go about your business you aren't held to them. Anyone that says such things and means them- that hears such things and believes them-" They are fools. The worst sort of sentimental fools.

"It does not fit." Bull is a spy. Spies are worse than Crows. Qunari do not do sentiment, he knows this.

[qunari]

"Mm." It's not quite a denial or acknowledgement. It's true that he can't really afford sentiment. That's also never stopped him from acting on impulse, to take a blow meant for another or to feel loyalty for those he's come across in the past few years. Krem he'd lost an eye for, and then he'd still been a complete stranger.

His gut tells him things, and he doesn't often ignore it when it does. But there's little he can do to explain that innate sense, and instead he merely shrugs. "I've lost people before, you know. In Seheron. Lot of good men. Friends."

It's not an experience that really needs more explanation than that, and Bull lets it settle there before glancing down at Zevran. "...I don't leave people behind."

[ombranera]

The default answer burns on his tongue- something deeply reflexive that has no place with Bull.

Crows do not have friends.

But he is no Crow. He has not been a crow in years but being there, surrounded by it, at the mercy of every tool they had to break him...It reminds him too much of his training, of learning to endure. That he can swallow down like bile and let it rest.

Bull gave his word and kept it. This is surprising but admirable. But that he considers him people- that wrings a ragged half laugh from him, one that is faintly bitter. "And I am one of your people, now?"

[qunari]

And it's a simple answer, honest. Something about where Zevran comes from tugs at him in a way he can't ignore. All the more reason to be one of the ones to step up and volunteer to go find him.

As if he hadn't already given his word that he would.

An eyebrow lifts as he cocks his head at Zevran where he lies curled against him. "Yeah. You are."

[ombranera]

It is easier not to look. If he looks he runs the risk of this being too good to be true, of seeing that faint blurring around Bull's form that precedes a blade or needle or poison being pressed into his hand and a choice presented.

As long as he does not look, he is safe.

"I suppose there are worse things." A scrap of humor, poorly managed.

[qunari]

"Krem might argue."

Humor's good. As good a coping method as any. Let him get his feet under him before he starts criticizing his taste in jokes, as though he had any room to talk himself. Let him start assembling some remnant pieces of normalcy before tackling all of this in earnest.

Meanwhile, he's got a Qunari merc that's more than happy to keep him settled in his lap, arms tight around him, gaze shifting to the forest beyond as though daring any of the remaining Crows to try and take him back.

Though it's fine if they don't try, honestly. It's been a long enough day as it is.