[ OPEN ] Well I can't stand to be with myself, this liberation's seemingly rare

[ombranera]

WHO: Zevran and Various
WHAT: Zevran sparring and dealing
WHEN: Throughout Drakonis
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Violence, swearing, usual Zevran Content Warnings Apply. Open prompt below, poke me on plurk for a closed starter. Prose or actionspam welcome!

As much as he'd protested Alistair running off on some mission in the west- the time apart gives him that much more chance to train. He'd been doing so privately in the barn, occasionally squaring off against Settimo when they both had the time and patience for Settimo's paranoia and Zevran's over-adjustments for the blind side. Learning to fight with only one good eye is slowly driving Zevran to frustration. Settimo could not come at him hard enough to be a challenge, he could not learn his new limitations without a solid effort on both their parts.

Setting aside his vanity he takes to the training grounds- but working on stuffed dummies is only good for so much. Soon enough he is picking out soldiers and rogues to come at him in the dirt circle. Day to day it goes much the same. Zevran stands with bad eye covered and his swords, with his hands, with a single short sword and calls any that would step up to help him regain his awareness. It is, to be honest, slow going. More often than not if his opponent has any manner of skill he ends up on his ass. But he grits his teeth, stands, and goes at it again. And again. Afterward he recovers with the highlight of his training- a bucket of water to sluice off the sweat and grit of the day. Whether it's the relief the cold brings or the appreciative looks it tends to earn? He doesn't say. But thus he spends his days, training himself or wrestling with the fledglings, who will offer their own commentary and catcalling in Antivan during his other matches.

Comments

[ombranera]

"Why the delay in time?" He turns about to peer at Fate closely, visible eye narrowed. Whatever is he playing at? Zevran is no mage but there's a certain familiar shift in the air before one slips from one form to the next- he became familiar with it around Morrigan.

That same odd twist has his eyes widening in surprise and, suddenly-

Wolf.

With perked ears and a back that requires scratching.

Zevran crackles a warm laugh as he drops to his knees, hands slipping up (slowly, slowly, it is fate but it is also a wolf) to rub behind his ears and scratch his ruff. "Now you are a most handsome fellow, are you not?"

[wickedchase]

Maybe it's a silly request. There are different ways to achieve a sense of comfort physically, but there's something a little different by having it in this manner. Fo ra moment, he watches Zevran's hands before his eyes close. The wolf leans into the fingers working along his ears and fur.

It's pleasant, in a way he doesn't expect would be nearly the same if he were still himself.

If the tail wagging slowly is a clear signal of that.

[ombranera]

"Most handsome indeed." He has not often seen wolves this close safely. Normally they were too busy minding their own hunt and Zevran was not much of one to spend time lingering in the woods to learn more. But Fate's coat was thick and lovely, the texture fine under his hand.

Why he'd wanted this, Zevran cannot say but- he is glad to be able to give it.

His hand slips further, scratching at Fate's back as requested. "Much better than a spider."

[wickedchase]

This is much better than he was expecting, and the compliments hardly hurt either. The wolf lets out a heavy sigh, leaning into the fingers working along his coat, eyes remaining closed as his ears press back against his head.

Once the fingers reach his back and Twisted Fate stretches under him, letting out a grunt before he leans slightly against Zevran, comfortable.

Oh, he agrees. Much better than a spider.

[ombranera]

"Alistair said you were able to become a mouse when you found me." But from mouse to wolf? That is an entirely different mindset, an entirely different thing. Morrigan spoke little of the skill ten years ago but Zevran understands enough of the magic to know it is no simple thing. "You are remarkable, my friend."

His handsome brown wolf, warm and leaning into every scratch as Zevran leans back just as much to offer more. A little like Barkswpan, a little wild.