Fourth Step - back from that ledge my friend, you could cut ties with all the lies that [action]

[antivanleather]

[He'd been living in...a state of frustration the past month. Of denial. But with a week and some spent in the wilderness in tail end of winter Zevran sought to reconnect with the cold hollow that the Crows instilled in him at an early age, one that time with the Warden and several months here had worn away. Filled with food and restful sleep and pleasurable company. With sentiment. It was not something he could afford, that sentiment, that desire for companionship beyond the odd body in his bed or verbal spar. To want comrades was something a Crow did not do, and as much as he wasn't pleased by the guild wanting him dead back home he was still very much one of them. Old habits died hard after all.

Hunting, tracking, setting a spartan camp and keeping mobile- avoiding all others that might have been hunting, forsaking the company of his fellow villagers did little more than weigh upon the elf and leave him far too much time to think over the events leading up to and just after that odd valentine's shift. How he'd handled it, or rather hadn't. The conversation he'd had with Isaac just before leaving, or rather the argument. The time between then and now did little to sooth the ire it'd caused. He'd lost something there.

He didn't know he cared enough to get it back.]

[Days away and he'd intended to remain so for awhile longer but the fall of snow urges him back to the village. Bundled along with his camping gear on his back are furs that need to be trimmed and roots, dried meat and bundles of flesh from what animals he'd trapped and butchered while hunting.  It's a fairly sizable stash of hunting loot if he did say so himself, and he's far too much to keep to himself.  Perhaps after he cleans up he'll offer the finished furs or bits of wrapped meat to his neighbors, or any that stop him along his path. He waves his way in from the south, past the battle dome and up through the plaza to stop in the grocery store for a few vegetables, perhaps a bottle of wine to go with the meat he's still carrying, and then he makes his way back to community house 7.

The normally boisterous and cheerful elf is weary and quiet, without any quick smile or laugh to crack at those he passes. His leathers are grubby from time in the woods, his boots scuffed, his hair a loosely braided mess. He'll make conversation if someone engages him, and he will be polite enough, perhaps even offer a cutlet of venison or dirty joke if the company is pleasant.]

Comments

[z_jay]

[Far be it from their occasional friend and more to be gone for so long-- and that was an acute realization earlier in the week with other, vital companions of his gone off. So to this extent he perked up slightly upon hearing footsteps pass by and up toward Zevran's flat. In short order he'd motivated himself to head for the door and peek out to spot him.

Not just him, evidently. There was a sizeable bounty on his frame. Furs, some indistinct meats, and but even from a distance he could tell something was off. Not that he was the most observant of fellows, but Zevran and all his talk of bathing oils and self-grooming... the disheveled look wasn't what he'd expected.

That and attempts to make eye contact were more difficult than he anticipated, so the next option was...]

Back with fresh catch? You really didn't have to...

[Not entirely scolding, but he was being partially honest instead of simply friendly joking]

[antivanleather]

[Zev slows to a stop at the wash of Eugene's voice- he'd done what he could to put him and his Ferelden accented companions out of his mind while away from the village and to divest himself of the odd protective twist he invoked whenever they spoke. He'd thought he managed it. Apparently? He was quite wrong.

After a moment's muted contemplation of what manner of lie to spin or joke to crack to wrangle his freedom he simply turned to offer Eugene a weary grin.]

Some is more fresh than the rest, but yes.

[z_jay]

It's cold enough I'm sure even the oldest is still, ah... fair game.

[There's little point in dragging out the elephant in the... space here, but he does give Zevran a once over, leaning in on his crutch a little to have a sniff. His expression soured, though at this point it could be expected. Any chance Zevran might have of escape was long forfeit at this point.]

Well, come on in. It's still too cold outside.

[Scolding Zevran when he looked like this, uncharacteristically weary, was both unnecessary and he'd feel bad for it. If Zevran were this visibly tired, he must trust him not to overstep the obvious. And he wouldn't, but he wasn't letting Zevran remain stinky any longer than necessary.]

[antivanleather]

[Zevran's brow ratchets up a bit at the lean and he finds himself subtly leaning back, away from Eugene's scrutiny. He's rough, he knows, and not as fresh or tidy as he would normally be. Careless in his normal routine of spending far too much time on his personal cleanliness, but if one smelled of nothing it unnerved animals- and bathing in the freezing river had not appealed to him in the slightest.

And there may have been a small part of him that felt validated, just a bit, by allowing himself to smell of blood and death for the first time since he'd arrived in the village.]

Better that I get this game to the kitchen, I would not wish to clutter your home with the remains of my kills.

[z_jay]

[Quick to pick up on the leaning back he stopped leaning forward, not to mention because he might also topple forward if he kept it up. Primarily, it was a way to show concern without being entirely direct about it... that and he wouldn't want Zev disappearing off again without mention.

But in the end, he knew he couldn't control anyone but himself, and that trust was something that Zev probably valued over being looked after.]

You'll come round with some though, right? I don't mind fixing something for you if you'd let me.

[Cluttering his home was the least of Eugene's worries, honestly. And everyone was being tight-lipped recently with injuries they wouldn't elaborate on how they were received and well... he didn't like this being kept in the dark business.]

[250mhzwabl]

[The minute Eugene tells him that Zevran is back, a part of Jack wants to charge right up to his room and forcibly re-insert himself into the elf's affairs, no innuendo necessary. He trusts Zev to take care of himself, but anyone just flitting off like that leaves Jack anxious and ill-at-ease, even when the individuals in question are phenomenally fit and capable. Even acquaintances going missing unsettles him, and Zevran is . . . well. Whatever he is to Jack and Eugene, they'd both agreed after the first handful of nights that his absence just felt strange.

But it's been a long week, and even if he's doing better than he was just after he got back, Jack still isn't exactly in peak form. Just like the few little bruises over his face and frame, the memories of the mission are taking their sweet time in fading, and are just as likely to be painfully bumped in the course of daily life. So he goes up to Zevran's flat toward the evening, thermos tucked under one arm, and raps and the door. Hopefully he hasn't left again already.]

[antivanleather]

[After a lengthy and somewhat relaxing afternoon spent in Eugene's company Zevran took his leave to soak. Not that he hadn't been forced to bathe in front of Eugene which had been far too detached to be any manner of erotic, but something can be said for the comfort of a good soak. He's on his third tub of hot water, a cup of mocha dangling from his fingertips when someone knocks upon the door. Eugene couldn't climb stairs, Max was probably avoiding everyone still, and Katniss, well. He planned to speak to her tomorrow.

That left Jack.

He's tempted to leave him at the door but his common sense has him sliding out of the tub and shrugging into a borrowed bathrobe. One of Jack's, provided by Eugene. He belts it at the waist and opens the door, blinking at his downstairs neighbor and...friend. Person. Thing.]

Yes, Jack?

[Like he hadn't cut and run a week and some ago with no warning or word.]

[250mhzwabl]

[It's sort of funny, that when Zevran starts things off like that, Jack suddenly finds himself lacking any kind of response. It irritates him obliquely, because it's not fair; question marks aren't supposed to work like that. But Zev makes them impossible, somehow, a dense barricade where there should be an open door.]

. . . hey.

[The word comes out a bit lamely, and he grins in a transparent attempt to cover that up, or at least compensate for it with good humour as he gives the greeting another shot. Even if he's being faintly impossible, Zevran is still someone he's deeply fond of.

That, and the lover-wearing-your-clothes thing is eighty kinds of unfair advantage.]

It- ah. [Nothing to do but be out with it.] It's good to see you again.

[antivanleather]

Is for horses, more often than not.

[It's offhand and automatic, something usually wound around a wink and a lazy grin. Today it's something of a weary sigh offered with a tight lipped smile. A brief flicker of humor, soon smoothed away. Without any further conversation forthcoming he leans against the doorframe rather than inviting Jack inside. He's not fit for extended company, the afternoon spent with Eugene showed him that much.]

I was not gone for so very long, was I? A little over a week, yes?

[He's not worth missing. Why was he missed? He's just an expendable Crow, after all. Someone that flits into and out of their bed when they're feeling generous.]

[250mhzwabl]

A bit over a week of disappearing into the aether, yes. Which is more than enough time to get a good stint of missing worked up.

[Zev's not acting right. Whatever else may be off-kilter about the world, that shifts into priority the moment Jack is sure of it, and he feels his own bearing steady given something concrete to focus on. His smile settles as well, but into an challenging little almost-smirk rather than flatness, as he lifts the thermos in one hand and sloshes the liquid inside in illustration.]

Now are you going to invite me inside, or am I going to have to drink all of this spiked cider while standing outside your door?

[stillplaying]

[She had done her best to get in the day's hunting out of the way before the snow became too heavy. It hadn't been a very successful hunt regardless. As if the animals of Luceti were far smarter than her in realizing that any sign of snow meant hibernating in their nests and burrows rather than trekking across the forest. Even the odd squirrel she was normally so good at spotting seemed absent from view.

Crunching through the snow, she starts her return to the village in a poor mood. It's been a year now, a year since she wound up here and there's still no sign of going home. Yet, people she had grown to care for had come and gone. It wasn't fair. None of this--

The sight of a familiar blonde elf snaps her out of her sulk. An elf she hadn't seen since before the stupid love-filled shift. An elf she had thought had disappeared just like the rest of them. Not gone. At least, not permanently. And from the look of him - from the wear of his boots and the number of pelts accompanying him - his disappearance had not been the fault of the Malnosso.

Annoyed, she pulls her skinning knife from her belt and sends it flying in his direction using the technique he had taught her. It lands wedged in the dirt in front of his feet and her lips twitch into a brief smile of satisfaction. Hopefully, that'll make more of an impact than an arrow.]

You left.

[antivanleather]

[So long he's been out of her company with nothing but instinct and padded leather between him and the elements that Zevran reacts to the whistle of a blade through the air with old habits- he drops his bounty and twists, his arm curling, flexing, hurling along a slim, shimmering response to the knife- it only registers that it's Katniss by the time he has his arm mostly extended, by the time he's all but released the slim handle of the throwing knife in between his fingers. The adjustment was quick and subtle, a twist of his palm that altered the blade's course just so to fly past the girl's face three inches to the left rather than embedding itself in her eye.

Startled. She'd startled him, and he had very nearly...

It shows on his face for a moment, that anxiety, that fear and slim simmer of self loathing that this was his first reaction- and then the disgust at his discomfort. This is what he was. An assassin. You throw knives at an assassin, you get what you deserve. Far too long to laugh it off or hide his unease Zevran settles for pulling his pack back up to his shoulders and pulling Katniss' knife from the ground.]

...good throw.

[stillplaying]

[He's not the only assassin. Not the only killer standing in this road. She might not have had all the experience that Zevran had, but it only took one kill. One political assassination to be labelled as such. So the moment she sees him responding, she realizes her mistake. And she, too, begins to respond for a threat.

Her bow slips down her shoulder into her hand and she reaches back for an arrow in one fell swoop. She takes her stance, nocks the arrow, and pulls the string back. There's no question about where she's aiming. His head might not be a large target, but it's a larger target than the hand with the knife. And a much more deadly one.

Going for the kill shot is habit. There's never been any other option. Even for a friend.

But when she sees the knife going towards her, her first instinct is to duck rather than fire. The knife goes sailing above her head and to the left and the bow and arrow fall to the ground. They're left behind as she stands, storming forward with her hands out to shove at him angrily.

It's her fault, she knows. She shouldn't have sent a knife flying in his direction. He's too much like her. Reacting first to save your own life, damn anyone else nearby. The best shot will always be that shot that'll do the most damage to the threat. But she doesn't care.

She attempts to shove him again, scowling. Anger at herself, at him. At this damn place.]

Damn you. You left. [Me.] And that's all you're going to say?

[antivanleather]

[Now that he's aware that it's her Zevran can bite back every violent knot of thought and muscle memory that would have him lash out again. He'd have gladly taken an arrow for responding as he he had- at least half of him would. The rest is screaming at him to twist and snap a wrist, or at least put some distance between him and the sharp shove of his aggressor. He doesn't step back, moving with the force of the push and twisting to disperse the force of it rather than allow himself to stagger.

Flowing like a wave rather than a rock. The second shove manages to wring a grunt from him, hands flying up to cup her elbows to just make her stop for a moment and let him breathe. She's pressing against bruises days old and it's uncomfortable.]

I went hunting. And the throw was a good one.

[stillplaying]

[The hands on her elbows make her pause. Her chest heaves with deep breaths at her exertions in the cold, the uncomfortable feeling of all this anger and worry. In some ways, she's almost grateful that he moved to stop her. Give her a chance to think rather than just react.

A year and she's watched so many people come and go from this place. Watched them be kidnapped by the Malnosso for experimentation or just sent home. She can't even begin to say how tired she's grown of that. Especially in recently accepting that she might never get to leave Luceti herself.

She stares up at him, grey eyes meeting his in a hard but worried gaze.]

You could've left a note. I went to look for you to practice with the knives and you weren't there. I thought--

[--what else would she have thought? He'd never taken off like this before. Was this what he felt when she had died?]

Dammit, I thought they sent you home.

[Action]

[abjurer]

[There's been plenty to keep him occupied over the past couple of weeks; New Feathers (and what kind of name is that, seriously?), Jack and Helios's mission and all of the thoughts that had woken in him, leaving him both concerned for his friends and intrigued by the possibilities. It's not quite an academic interest either and part of him knows that that should concern him a lot more than it does.

He's been working for a few hours, his stuff spread out on the kitchen table; braided thread and papers. There's a mug of tea that went cold ages ago and perhaps it's not surprise since he'd dropped off to sleep a while back, head pillowed on his arms.]

[Action]

[antivanleather]

[He'd passed by the kitchen once without sparing a look- but after a moment to change and store his share of the bounty of his hunt Zevran wraps a hefty portion and brings it down to the first floor kitchen, edging away from Jack and Eugene's door. He'd rather not continue discussions until he's had more wine or time to soak.

So of course the object of his misplaced affections was asleep on the table. And for the first time in his life Zevran's stealth fails him. His step seems too heavy, the click of his boots against the tile too loud, the shrieking creak of the fridge door damning.]

[Action]

[abjurer]

[He's not a fighter, not used to having to wake in an instant, but still, the noise does stir him. He shifts, coming awake slowly and peers around blearily for the source of the noise. He blinks at the sight of Zevran there and then gives a sleepy, rumpled sort of smile.]

Zevran. Hey. Uh... damn, must've... dozed off.

[Action]

[antivanleather]

[Even though the thought of him before didn't instill that twist in his chest and ache in his gut, Zevran finds himself braced for it once more as soon as Max smiles and...

Nothing. Well the odd attraction he has to most men, yes, but. Nothing in his head, nothing in his heart. It's something of a relief. He all but sags against the fridge and is so pleased with this development that he manages a faint smile.]

Overworking yourself again I see.

[Action]

[abjurer]

[He blinks dumbly for a moment, stifling a yawn with his hand as he pushes himself back up so he's not faceplanting on the table.]

Yeah. Got a few things I'm thinking about. Must've got caught up. Welcome back, by the way.

[universal_charm]

<sub>[ Call Kirk surprised when he spotted Zev. He hadn't seen the other around recently, which truthfully was sort of sad. He liked Zev, liked his company.

And it didn't take a genius to see Zev wasn't as boisterous as the last few times they had met, and something told him that the boisterous attitude was the default. Anything else was odd. And even odder? The way he was walking about - dirty, like he'd been spending two weeks out in the woods and hadn't had a fresh bath in all that time. He had thought Zev all about cleanliness.

So call him a bit flummoxed when he spotted Zev in the grocery story, and weighed down by more fresh meat than he had seen probably in his own life.]</sub>

Well, I guess the huntings getting good out there.

[antivanleather]

Mm?

[Ah, Kirk. Aside from the odd tussle made with the intent of teaching the man how not to die in a fistfight they hadn't spoken much due to Zevran's wandering attention and the most recent stint of hermit like leanings. He manages a thin smile for the good captain and goes back to looking over the rack of spices available.]

If one is patient and vigilant, it can be.

[universal_charm]

Certainly seems to have worked for you. How have you been?

<sub>[ Because yeah, even though most of the reason he saw Zev was for his sparring lessons, you could learn a lot about a man through sparring.

And it lead him to believe Zev was good people.]</sub>

[antivanleather]

Cold, for the bulk of my time. The caves are not as good a shelter as one might think at first blush.

[universal_charm]

Trust me, I hear the word 'cave' and the term 'good shelter' does not immediately pop to mind. I tend to think something likes in caves, so no go for me.

Why be out there in this weather anyways? Just for the meat?