faderift | Got no credit and I got no fear

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Got no credit and I got no fear

WHO: Sera ~~Mai Bhalsych of Korse~~ and OPEN
WHAT: Sera comes back to Skyhold
WHEN: Last few weeks of Drakonis
WHERE: All over Skyhold
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thepenguinred

Herald's Rest

While her room's been mysteriously stolen by a mysterious shiteface, the tavern is still Sera's home in Skyhold. Drinking, playing cards, trying to avoid the weirdly intense gaze of the lady bard, Sera can be found doing them all now that she's finally back. As the night goes on the cheating becomes more flagrant and the stories louder, accompanied by wider and more dramatic arm flailing and occasional reenactments. Eventually, she tells the Tale Of The Time Cassandra Punched a Bear's Heart Out And It Got All Over The Herald's Clothes And I Laughed Then Shot Other Bears With Arrows. During her demonstration of the punch, she throws her hand back a little too hard and fast, hitting someone or knocking a drink over. But dealing with that has to wait until the story's done.

Out and About

Sera hadn't spent much time in the old fortress since she'd had to go off on Very Important Jenny Business (Possibly Involving Fire Ants and Honey), so it's time to get to know the place by the back of her hand again before starting up her services to the local community. Every hidden passage and unlocked (and unoccupied locked) room gets poked and prodded as the week goes on. All expect for one very specific room where she knows Creepy Cole likes to linger in, like some stupid ghost of the attic. Unless there's a juicy conversation to be overheard, she doesn't bother with stealth, just walking in and up to anything and anyone that strikes her. Anyone looking particularly servant-like will be getting chatted up whether the like it or not, along with most everyone else she comes across.

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"That's a thing, innit."

Not stolen from by a noble, but by someone closer to her. Easier to live with. She shouldered her bow and jerked her head towards the stairs to the tavern.

"Daggers don't have the same point, yeah? Cause they're sharp bits are different stuff, get it?"

Her cackle can be heard as she goes down the stairs.

Oh, yes.

He liked her. This should be good, whatever it was. He followed along, desire to see Fate forgotten for the moment. "You know I am ashamed you got there before I did."

Such wordplay was familiar enough and truly? He should have said it first. For shame.

"Youth an' all that. But I'll forget it with a free drink, Ser Whats-His-Ears."

Really impressive fake names were saved for special events, and she was worn enough from finding she'd been replaced in the Inquisition to not feel this was one of that. She'd been away too long, that's all there was to it. Staid away because she didn't want to see what happened once Inky was dead. A shite reason to fuck off from saving the world. So one she wouldn't be saying. And so wouldn't be trying to kill the ass that stole her room outright because of it.

"Zevran Arainai." A beat. "I do not look so old, do I?"

It was the crow's feet, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Many a time he was reminded of the youth of most of the Inquisition but those were quiet thoughts, dark and jaded and tucked away. No one ever faced him with such things. He was coming along on forty and-

He snorted at himself, at his concerns, at his vanity and waved a serving girl over to order a glass of brandy for himself and whatever this fascinating woman was having. "But I must admit, Ser Whats-His-Ears does have a charming ring to it."

"That did it, eh?"

She laughed again, knowing she'd already locked down the best teasing point for her new comrade. She worried about elves as a rule, those with face ink even more. But he had boots and a not Dalish accent. She might just be fine. Especially with the free brandy in hand.

"Sera. Sera Ohesheet AhBah-stard-oh. That's how it's said here, yeah?"

"Oh, so you are the illustrious Sera. I have heard of you." Normally spoken with great trepidation, fear, and as though simply saying the name would loose some manner of mischievous spirit to hide the custard in the stairwell.

Or something like that. He did not understand it but upon meeting her? It suddenly made sense.

"I'm innocent. 'Cept for all the funny bits. Done those and more."

She flashes a proud grin as she goes about getting their drinks. Not giving gold for them yet, mind. If she couldn't get someone else here to pay, the bar tender knew she'd pay back in favors. There was always some drunk that needed a lesson on why it's good to be nice to the staff.

"From what I heard it was all 'the funny bits'. Custard and bees and such." Spiders in smallclothes drawers, but that is less funny and more spiteful- and thus not a subject of conversation. Humor is good-

He would hate her to get any ideas for Fate.

"Hehe, that's just what they figured was me."

Fate was in trouble. Once she figured how to not burn down her room while doing what she had in mind. Wouldn't be fun to lose the tavern all together.

"Mad for some ass-face to steal my room, innit?"

"I cannot possibly imagine why." Dr and wry and deeply amused. But Fate was a prankster and could take such things in stride.

Or.

Well.

So Zevran hoped. There were some teeth to Sera's tricks. "You should've gotten a better lock. Or carved your name rather than your tits. He has never seen them, how is he to know they were yours?"

"Knew he friggin didn't have a set, yeah? Should've left it be. Gonna have to tell Bull we're cuddling now. Break his heart he'll have to manage a night without."

She makes an obscene gesture with her hands to show just what she meant by a night without. It lasts longer than it really needs to. But despite that, she's probably not going to actually follow that plan. There were small holes in Skyhold worlds better than places she'd slept before. But giving people the mental image of Bull having to skip sex with some tavern girl to play her big spoon was funny.

"Must he go a night without?" The obscene gesture was as fluid and familiar as any Zevran saw growing up in the brothels, enough to cause him to snicker into his brandy. "Unless, of course, you find him a bit much."

Most did. Zevran did, on occasion, but he enjoyed that muchness. Reveled in it.

"Nah. Too little."

She grinned at that for a moment- like that could be possible. But then explains by grabbing her own (much acclaimed) tits.

"In one place. Wrong bits in another."

"..." The snickering grew into full a full out crackling of laughter. Ah, so she was of that mind. He could appreciate it- and made a note not to discuss men and such with her, nor to flirt. "I do not know, his chest seems fine and large to me- but there is something to be said for a marvelously shaped bosom."

"Tch, his nips have enough muscle in them to put an eye out. What'd you think happened to his?"

And there was ale. She took a swig, managing to now choke on it despite still giggling as it went down.

"But your type, huh?"

"I do not know if he is quite that flexible." But the mental image? Mmm. He lost a moment or two considering the idea of a bendy Bull before answering.

"Almost everyone is my type. Were I yours, you would be as well." But he was not and as such, he merely taps their glasses together rather than flirt. "Remind me to introduce you to Isabela later. I think you would get along quite well and she is your type. Gorgeous and fun with marvelous breasts."

"Big bed?"

She waggled her eyebrows- or tried to. It was lost with the image of Bull being flexible enough for that. Maybe if he had a pointy cock instead-

And she needs to gasp for air after that mental image.

"Huge." They were speaking of only beds, yes? Yes. Or perhaps not by the way she chortled. "Dare I ask- or shall I assume it was something ridiculous and join in?"

"Oh, bed partners. All sorts of mad combinations there. Pointy dick, ha."

The last part is more muttered into her drink than anything, make of it what you will.

"But I'll keep my own eye out for your friend. And her huge...bits."

"I-" He coughs, clears his throat, and tries to lose the mental image.

No, no, it is stuck "You- You are a terrible woman with a very strange mind. Suddenly I have a deep understanding for how others that speak to me must feel. Or those that speak to Isabela- You definitely will get along well with her."

There's nothing for it now, her most recent sip of ale very much threatening to come out of her nose.

"Oh- ow! Friggin shite-" calm down...soon. It takes a moment. "Ha, no fault of mine you can picture it, eh? Maybe you can tell me: how's he and elves even work, eh? He's so...Bull. You're more like a chicken next to that."

"I can picture it because I have seen such a thing before. There was an Antivan noble who had a particular desire to be 'hygienic'. Something with the cutting and stitching of the foreskin, it was in fashion for a few years before everyone decided it was bullshit. Something went wrong or went right and-" He gestures, stroking a cock, wide at the base- tiny at the tip. "Like a carrot!"

That poor man. Zevran felt like putting him out of his misery was more a benefit to the man than anyone else.

"Me and bull? Oil, patience, and a lot of stretching. And a lot of lying around the next day feeling bruised all over."

"Ugh! Friggin nobles, always that, innit. Think they'd bread themselves with enough time...'cept for all the bastards the leave lying 'round in the gutter for in case."

Carrot shaped. She believes it. But she smiles, a little more softly, at all the Bull talk. Of course.

"Knew he was a big softie in the end."

"Meet one and you have, more or less, met them all. The exceptions are more surprising than those that follow the pattern. Yes you are important, yes you are rich, but if cut? They bleed as red as anyone else." He shrugs.

"Bull is, to quote a friend, 'good people.' He is incredibly decent and a fair departure from the last Qunari I knew."

"Been up in Qun land?"

One of the few areas Sera herself had never ventured towards. The 'vints and their wars could take care of themselves. Too much magic and chains for her liking.

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