Did I go at it wrong? Did I go intentionally to destroy me?

[ombranera]

WHO: Zevran and You
WHAT: Zevran back at Skyhold, Recovering
WHEN: Mid to late guardian, covering a span of time
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: CW/TW FOR: Mentions of torture, withdrawal, suicidal ideation, swearing, self loathing, etc. Shit gets dark. This log is also for characters not on the rescue long. Locked thread below will be done on first come, first serve.

[ His Quarters ]

Good day

Sometimes it's good. He's tired from the trip, tired from the ordeal- but he'll see people. Play cards, answer questions- as many as he can stand. Nothing about the side of his face he has hidden under a bandage, nothing about what was done to him- but he'll describe Antiva. Mention how gallant and ridiculously awesome his rescuers were. Share coffee or brandy or whatever he has on hand- and make light. He tires easily early on in his recovery, but later? He might converse for an hour or so before needing a break. Alistair sees most people in and out as needed.

Bad day

Early on he spends more time alone, quiet and isolated, Alistair a silent, stoic wall between him and the world. Notes will be passed along as well wishes- but he'll only see the most demanding and even then? He'll be listless. Snappish. Frustrated that they forced their way and company upon him when he would rather be left in peace.


[ Stables ]

Good day

A target on the far wall and a dagger in his hands, he's attempting to learn to compensate for the eye- under a leather patch now that neatly hides both the eye and his new scars, and talking a small group of strange new students as they work on...carving toys. Or sketching one another. Or working on a lute- a difference from the lessons he'd been giving before. But they do as they're told and laze about while he works on the throwing, or while he walks them through a particular shading technique, curl of the knife, or chord. Even when they're dismissed he continues with the throwing, aim slowly circling about to something better.

Bad day

When his patience with himself is at it's limit, when he's climbing the walls for want to get away from Alistair's oppressive hovering, when he cannot bear to even teach, he hides in the rafters of the stable. More likely than not there is a bottle of wine or brandy or something stronger still hanging from his fingers, head tipped into the shadows as he drums his fingers against his chest. Until Alistair or Beleth hunt him down, he means to remain there, high above where most people don't think to look.


[ Clearing Outside of Skyhold ]

Later in his recovery, when the worst of it is settled, no matter his temperament he is out running drills with those same students, agility drills, knife drills, a highly acrobatic and complicated looking game of tag or one of the most terrifying rounds of hide and seek possible while he lounges under a tree, calling out corrections or instructions. A bottle of wine, a basket of bread and dried sausages. When his mood is poor and his patience low he runs with them, pushing himself to the point of surly exhaustion. When it is high he sits and drinks and sketches out various shapes of armor, tools- things they may need.


[ Battlements - Locked to Bruce, Sabine, Martel, Mia, and Nahariel ]

On the darkest nights he cannot sleep. Not for all the wine in skyhold, not for all the sleeping spells and draughts available. To close his eyes is to see the fade- to be back on that hook, back in that cell with the blood and whispering. The Shades. He's back with the choice- the knife in his hand and the order in his ear. Wakes to find Alistair, so quiet so trusting. It would take nothing. When the weight of this is too much he walks up, out, finds himself a perch, sitting on the edge of the battlements, peering down at the rocks below. All he has to do is lean. All he needs to do is let go. It would be so very easy to let go, to be done. Maker above, he wants to. Even when he has found it in himself to take a step back, to return to bed; another night might have him back on the battlements once again, considering the drop.

Comments

[ombranera]

"Anyone with eyes can see he is taken with you- or that you are thoroughly taken with him. I have not seen mooning this obvious in years." Perhaps months but- infatuations are infatuations. Sincere sentiment? Was something else entirely. Far more rare and precious for it.

"I will see what I cannot sneak from the cooks. Perhaps I might even teach you how to make it, something to surprise him with, yes?"

[dreadinquisitor]

He didn't say anything, but then he didn't really have to. The corners of his eyes wrinkled handsomely, giving away the depth of his smile even as he found to keep from grinning stupidly. The color around his collar flushed darker.

"...You know, Zevran, for as mysterious and dangerous as you make yourself out to be, you're terribly sweet?"

[ombranera]

"Mm? I am not. Bite your tongue, saying such things would ruin my fearsome reputation." As a one eye'd drunk, at the moment, but he pushed that thought aside in favor of reaching up to shove (gently) at Max's shoulder. "I am a scoundrel and a rogue. I am terrible, yes, but not sweet."

[dreadinquisitor]

The grin stole over his face then, as he tucked another bite of chocolate into his cheek and lifted a hand to start fishing under the collar of his leathers for the slim chain around his neck.

"Too late," he replied, a laugh rumbling under the words. He tugged on the chain, pulling out his crystal and the locket he'd made, the two of them clacking together. "I simply have to tell everyone. Such a discovery must be shared..."

[ombranera]

"You are, no, no-" He reached up to bat at Maxwell's hand, part of his mind scrabbling in terror that he was being so bold, so familiar with a noble and the rest? Hair bent on continuing this bright laughter, this warm teasing. "You would not dare-"

[dreadinquisitor]

Maxwell laughed and put on a show of squirming and ducking, but was hardly fighting.

"Hands, Zevran. Hands. You haven't even bought me dinner yet." He teased with a bright grin. "...Now, who should I tell first? Or should I just include the whole Inquisition at once, do you think?"

[ombranera]

"I will cook you dinner if you keep this to yourself-" And he meant that, even as it's gasped amid teasing attempts to get the crystal. If he wanted it, truly wanted it? He could take it. This was- playful. Joking. "You will tell no one!"

[dreadinquisitor]

"Bribery? Really, Zevran?" Appalled and shocked, he gaped at Zevran and tsked his tongue gently, but there was humor in his eyes, warm and bright, as he held the crystal aloft and leaned as far out Zevran's reach as he could without rolling onto the floor. "And without even knowing what this so-called dinner would include..."

[ombranera]

"Authentic- or as close as I might get to it- Antivan pasta, fish chowder-" Another swipe as he pushed at Max's chest for leverage to reach up high enough. "A bottle of wine, dessert the whole deal for you and Gavin-"

Which undercut the 'he was not sweet' comment entirely, but there you were.

[dreadinquisitor]

Zevran's fingers brushed over the crystal and Maxwell rolled his wrist, dancing it away and back again even as he narrowed his eyes consideringly and hummed as if in deep thought.

"Mmm, I haven't had real pasta since I left Ostwick, and chowder does sound heavenly right--" Then he paused, both in speech and in movement, the crystal swinging back toward Zevran's grasping hand.

A heartbeat later his grin widened, reaching up near enough to touch his eyes, and the sound began.

"Aww, Zevran."

[ombranera]

"Shut it off!" Laughing- he should not be laughing, he should not feel this light with all the lead poured into his bones, he should not risk nor dare quite so much with a human noble-

But it was Max. And somehow in all of that, that it was Max, that it was someone he'd come to see as a teasing friend- that made it safe. That Max had never shown him or any elf any manner of discourtesy, or anyone for that matter- he felt safe enough to catch his wrist if not the crystal and sigh. "Or there will be no cake."

[dreadinquisitor]

It was a good sound, that laugh. It was a nice sight, Zevran's face relaxing and lightening.

It was a good moment. Born of the sort of relationship Maxwell had always wanted, but never quite reached. He'd had many friendly acquaintances at home, in Ostwick, but true friends? Willing to tease and laugh, and be utter fools together?

Very rare.

(It was one of those moments that he would look to when the letters arrived, reminding himself that he had made the right decision. That he didn't have to return. That he could have his own life.)

"No cake?" He gasped, eyes widening in concern. "But a dinner without cake is no real dinner at all!"

With a great, heavy sigh, he leaned back. Resigning to Zevran's truly underhanded victory.

"You drive a hard bargain, Serah."

[ombranera]

"Then you had best silence the crystal, mm?" He gave Max's wrist an emphatic squeeze- nowhere near enough to hurt, and Max did not so much bat an eye at the situation. Thought nothing of being in the grip of an Assassin, one that could end him with a flick of the wrist- from this position alone there were twelve ways to break his arm and his neck in a matter of moments.

And he trusted him all the same.

It warmed something small and quiet in the back of Zevran's mind, something he did not wish to look at too closely. Not today.

Max sat back and Zevran...slumped against his side, releasing his wrist. Casual, pointless contact that meant nothing. "Dinner with cake it shall be."

[dreadinquisitor]

"I wonder if there's a sly way of asking Gavin what his favorite flavor is..." Maxwell said thoughtfully, tucking the chain with the crystal and locket both back under his collar. Zevran's secret safe for another day. "It would be fun to surprise him."

[ombranera]

"Honestly you could ask him and wait a week. He would forget. People like him do not much expect their preferences to be remembered." Zevran was not, at all, speaking from experience there.

[dreadinquisitor]

It was the sort of comment, that while off-handed, still managed to break his heart because he knew it was probably true.

"All the more reason to surprise him."

He wasn't likely to hold Zevran to their teasing, but a cake for Gavin? He was suddenly determined to see that happen regardless.

He slanted the elf a mischievous look.

"But, of course, I'll make sure he knows who baked it with love and care."

[ombranera]

"I should think the rest of the dinner will tip him off well enough. When I bribe a friend for the sake of my reputation, I mean to make good. Let me know when you would wish it done and I will gather the supplies." In all due seriousness, he made the offer. For if there was one couple he would wish to see well that was slightly less doomed than Korrin and Araceli? It was Maxwell and Gavin.

[dreadinquisitor]

Maxwell looked at him for a moment, eyebrows raising.

"If you're determined to pamper us, I won't deny you, but you do know I was just teasing, yes? You don't actually owe me anything."

[ombranera]

"I know but- You and Gavin have been good friends to me these past few weeks. I do not have words for how grateful I am to you both. This? This I can do. Besides. You deserve a nice night with nothing to do but worry about one another, yes?" Let him live vicariously through you Max. Just a little.

[dreadinquisitor]

"That's what friends do, Zevran." He slipped the arm trapped between them free and wound it around the elf in a short, but warm hug. "But thank you. I, for one, know I would enjoy that very much."

[ombranera]

"I do not have many friends, Maxwell- and am still becoming accustomed to what that means outside of Antiva." He leaned against Maxwell easily enough, quietly pleased. "But I am glad to have you both."

[dreadinquisitor]

"A secret?" Maxwell replied. "Neither do I."

He smiled warmly.

"And I'm just as glad to have you."