faderift | We come from the land of the ice and snow

We come from the land of the ice and snow

WHO: Open to all
WHAT: Thedas' strange new guests are delivered to Skyhold
WHEN: 25 Harvestmere (October)
WHERE: Skyhold main gate & courtyard
NOTES: This is Part I of a two-part intro event, Part II will be posted tomorrow.

A long uphill tromp through the snowy mountains ends at Skyhold, the distant fortress finally before them in all its tumble-down glory. There is time to admire the drop into the river gorge far below as they cross the only bridge into the castle; it is briefly backed up with traffic, several carts bearing supplies and visitors stalled as the portcullis is raised. Those coming to help catalog and unload the shipment and greet the guests, or otherwise present near the front courtyard, will find themselves witness to a far more interesting arrival.

Guards at the gate carry the word quickly, and more gather, though they make no move to imprison the strange people who fell out of a rift. They just line the perimeter and keep a close watch. Perhaps this adds a level of tension to this first encounter, but it also reassures the many who are unsettled by the uncertain turn of events and keeps in check those who might attack first and ask questions later. Others will no doubt soften the Inquisition's first impression, offering food, information, and other assistance.

Medical attention is available in the tented-encircled corner of the courtyard where the wounded from Haven are still treated. The quartermaster's assistant is called upon to provide spare odds and ends of clothing to those in need, and to issue blankets for all, though they are left to fend for themselves to find places to sleep.

Any mage willing to help is called in to do so and a cluster forms in one side of the courtyard to examine the rifters. They are objects of curiosity in general, but the marks on their hands are of particular interest, resembling smaller slivers of the Herald's famous mark. Despite their best efforts, no mage will be able to provide any real insight after this initial assessment. What the rifters and their marks are is a question they cannot answer today.

But one question is answered: in the midst of all the commotion, another Inquisition agent arrives from Haven, rushing in red-faced to announce that the Herald's body has finally been found.

OOC

It will be decided (partly for OOC reasons, admittedly) that the rifters will not be imprisoned at this point, but they will be watched carefully, and the guards are on alert for any strange behavior by people with glowing hands or strange attire. And of course, their freedom can be revoked at any time if they're deemed a danger. Though there are some OOC considerations at play here, you're welcome to ICly lobby for more or less freedom for the rifters, and things may change based on IC action/consensus.

Also: Part II, aka the log for the funeral/wake/etc. event, will go up tomorrow!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Well I do try to talk them out of it but you know brigands. They do not always listen, alas." He shrugs, hooking an ankle around Simon's under the table. Gradually encroaching on his space was step two. Step one was the flirting- if he continued to blush so well he may very well manage step three before the conversation was over.

"I make certain the stabbing is quick and clean. There is no reason to cause undue suffering."

It had become a grim conversation to be had over a meal, but it actually felt less uncomfortable a topic than Zevran's flattery. For someone like Simon who had deliberately chosen to specialize in healing wounds and injuries, talk of bloodshed wasn't all that bad. Certainly better than the other kind of bloodshed that tended to come up around mages.

"As long as you do attempt talking them down first--"

And then there was a slender foot hooking around his, startling the mage to the point where he nearly banged his knee against the table.

"--sorry," he quickly covered. "Did I kick you? I'm so sorry..."

Well that was a reaction. Perhaps he did not care for men...or elves. Or perhaps he was shy? Zevran taps the toe of his boot against Simon's but does not attempt to hook it about a second time. Clearly that wasn't about to work. "Not at all, though I do apologize if I am making you uncomfortable."

He was being a bit more forward than usual. Perhaps it would be better to temper it- even if the sputtering and the blushing was hilarious.

"It isn't that you're--I'm, well, I'm flattered," Simon offered, doing his absolute best to be diplomatic. It was clearly not his strongest suit, the mage hesitating with every other word and his face now burning red with embarrassment. 'Uncomfortable' was a strong word in Simon's opinion, especially since he still wasn't really sure that Zevran was really serious... This was hardly the place for romantic intentions...at least what Simon thought romantic intentions to be.

Though that Zevran was at least a little bit interested was pretty clear...unless he just enjoyed watching him squirm. Simon opted to give the elf the benefit of the doubt.

"I am...I'm just not, not really in a good place for...what it is you're looking for," he finally finished, managing not to make the words a question. Especially difficult when he didn't even really know what Zevran was looking for.

"A night of fun? A casual flirtation? A romantic interlude with no strings attached and no true expectations? A pleasant diversion from the stress that seems to be your life? Illicit meetings in alcoves where we might exchange tender words and passionate kisses but precious little else? All of the above? None? An amusing friend with which to share wine and warmth and good humor? Whatever it is you might find most pleasing is what it is that I offer. Without reservation and without expectation." Perhaps now, speaking plain, the teasing ambiguity would be less vague and more transparent in it's true intent- to offer whatever it was that Simon would want to see.

He sat back enough to give Simon his space, smile friendly and hands open, palm up on the table in a gesture that was equal parts surrender and open offer. "I am under no illusions. The world as it is, the burden you bear as a mage and healer in these tumultuous times- I merely thought to offer something fun with which you might relieve your stress in any manner you find acceptable."

That was quite the array of offers, ranging from mild to salacious but mostly salacious, and of course the latter variety only served to make Simon's eyes widen and if it were possible for him to get any redder he certainly would be. He folded his hands together on the table, meal now completely forgotten...but the mug absolutely remembered, Simon taking a quick drink and even managing not to grimace at the taste. At least not too much.

Still, Zevran was offering so much and being so accommodating, it left Simon almost suspicious. Had he been sent by those men in Tevinter to find River? Simon didn't want to think so...but he still would have to be careful.

"That's very thoughtful," Simon finally answered, his smile no longer present, he looked slightly worried instead. He was searching Zevran's own smile now, trying to find anything he might be hiding. "I am not very good at flirting. Or casual...that. But company would be nice."

It was true. Zevran had probably already guessed how bad a flirt Simon was, and as for intimacy, 'casual' wasn't something the mage had ever been able to manage. It was possible, maybe, but Simon would need to relax first. And considering that was Zevran's supposed goal...they were going to be dancing around each other for some time.

"Still, is there anything you want? That is, you seem to be going out of your way to help...what can I do to repay you?"

"...do you often attempt to pay people for their company?" Because the shyness does imply a difficulty with flirting and honestly he was having a hard time seeing Simon bold enough to find a prostitute for the night were he in need. It wasn't anything Zevran had not done before but it wasn't something he looked to get into now, not even if it earned him a fine companion and a little coin.

He did not need to do such things any longer.

But...perhaps that was not what it was Simon intended to say?

"I--what?"

Simon coughed as he struggled not to swallow his tongue. The budding suspicion he felt was momentarily forgotten.

"I didn't mean...I wasn't talking about money," he said, fingers waving between them to dispel the misunderstanding. Not that there was anything wrong with people who did, or with people who took such payments, but that was absolutely not what Simon was getting at at all.

"This is why I do not care much for Common. It can be terribly imprecise at times." A misunderstanding brought on by language, this he could forgive. "Your company in return would be more than enough, Bello. I require little else."

Simon breathed again, head dipping for a moment as he smiled with rueful embarrassment. At least the misunderstanding had been smoothed over easily enough...part of Simon still wondered if he could take him at his word, but for once it was something he would let himself worry about later.

"Then, yes, company I think I can manage," he said with the unspoken implication that he's not always good at that either, as he'd just shown. "'Bello' wouldn't happen to a kind word for 'oaf', would it? I wouldn't blame you if it were..."

"Not at all." Zevran said, leaning forward once again, peering at Simon through his lashes. Voice low and warm he reached out again to rest his hand on top of Simon's- it was slow in coming, offering Simon plenty of time to move away should he so choose. "It means 'Handsome Man' in Antivan."

"Maker, you're relentless," Simon said with a smile and huff of breath. Still, he let the touch come. His hand only curling slightly under Zevran's before relaxing again, the fingers slowly daring to spread out and open on the table. Did he want this? Maybe...a friend would be nice. Even one who seemed to enjoy turning him red at every available opportunity. So, yes, he decided that this was worth trying.

"All right then, 'Bello'...you win," he said, tilting his head at Zevran.

"You have no idea." He curled his fingers around Simon's tugging his hand up enough to drop a kiss to his knuckles. A friendly kiss. A teasing one. The gesture was courtly and in most cases? Considered quite charming. How Simon would take it he could not quite say.

Simon was going to have to learn to see those sorts of things coming. He opened his mouth to say something, though he wasn't sure what, as Zevran tugged his hand up for a kiss.

"Ah--" he managed instead. His fingers squeezed Zevran's hand involuntarily, matching the lump in his throat bobbing as he swallowed. For someone who insists he's only interested in casual interludes Zevran certainly acted like he was trying to court the mage. At least that's how Simon took the gesture...it was the sort of thing he'd do to someone he was interested in, providing he ever built up the nerve.

Of course, what Zevran actually wanted was proving impossible to ever know. It left him feeling nervous again about what he could be getting himself into...but he tried not to start assuming the worst.

"Another time, yes? Enjoy your evening." He squeezes Simon's hand as he stands, weaving his way back through the crowd. Always leave them wanting more- or leave them confused and flustered. Tonight would be more of the latter than the former.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

We come from the land of the ice and snow

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