Fifth Drop - Again, until you decide to drop. Now I'm so high, so high, so high [Action]

[antivanleather]

plans.






His eyes snap open as the thought finishes and for a long moment he can't breathe or think past the remembered pain of a gaping wound and the cold, blissful slide of a knife through his heart.  No Isaac, so kind, so cruel to cradle his head.  No grit of dirt or stone under his cheek and digging into his back.  No clash of battle or distant, strained cry that was so very familiar- oh.  Katniss. She'd seen.  He's still wrapping his mind around being alive, around breathing when his hands fly to his chest- whole and slick with sweat rather than blood.  Alive.  He is alive.  It is no trick, it is no twist of necromantic intent.  He feels no lesser than he had before. Well. Mildly ill and lethargic, yes.  But he lives.

And remembers nothing at all of being dead aside from it being a decidedly uncomfortable process to achieve.  If he spends too much time thinking on it, he'll drive himself mad.  All he can do is take that he is alive with good grace and get to his feet.  Laying here is becoming uncomfortable- but for a fair while he can't bring himself to move, relishing the simple act of laying out in the sun and being able to breathe without smelling his own death

When he does rouse himself from where he's settled in the woods he will, without any real sense of urgency- which is fairly odd for him, go first and foremost to Isaac's home.  There was something he gave the Forgemaster to hold onto that he needs back.  Afterward he finds himself wandering to the clothing shop to find a shirt. Perhaps shoes.  Something beyond the plain white trousers the Malnosso gave him upon his revival.  From there, it's home.  Home to check in on his boys and be yelled at quite a bit.

At his house he'll pick the lock to the front door since he does not have the key upon his person or feel particularly inclined to calling attention to himself, slip inside, and make his  way to the kitchen to brew himself a mug of coffee.  If a hearty measure of brandy makes it way into the mug as well- can anyone blame him? He's settled there for the first hour he is back home, sitting quietly in the kitchen and sipping away.

Comments

[antivanleather]

What would you have me say? that before I died I got to enjoy the thoroughly delightful experience of killing the last woman I cared for a second time? That was fun.

[It was soft and tired and bitter but drunk and weary and he hadn't told Eugene yet, has he? He should have and he's sorry and he should have started differently but the story's spilling out anyway, all in weary mixtures of common and Antivan that the wings translate well enough. The only difference is everything sounds so much more sad in Antivan.]

Rinna. Her name was Rinna. It was...months before I ever arrived in the village, almost a year ago in my own world. I loved her.

[Drunk as he was, he could say that. Say that and blink through some tears that leaked out all the same. Too little too late.]

She was...she was brilliant and beautiful and an elf, everything I had ever thought I might want in a woman and so much more than I had ever hoped to expect. We were Crows together. Assassins. We worked together, ate together, bathed and slept and made love and loved one another despite it being a risk. Either one of us could have beeen a liability to the other but we didn't care. We were young and thought ourselves immortal. Invincible. The best the Crows had ever created and of course we were well matched.

You should have seen her, Eugene. She had eyes that were more green than emeralds. Hair that was as red as blood and so thick you could strangle a nobleman with her braid. And we did. Multiple times. Skin so fair and so creamy and so very soft- she's the one that taught me how to make my own ointment. How to keep my own skin from scarring.

[z_jay]

I--

[At first the remarks Zevran were making didn't make sense, and he sort of expected as such from the elf given he was... for all intents and purposes, drunk. There was an edge here, however, that he wasn't sure he was hearing right and thus, he stopped short when Zevran continued unabated. The actual content of the story shocked him, however, as he wasn't anticipating such a deep confession. To say that his heart didn't ache at some point would be a lie-- and he didn't press for more, didn't urge him to silence, just listened and rubbed his back.]

Zevran, I'll just say I believe you when you claim something is beautiful. Of all things to... [his scoff was soft, not reproachful or mocking in the least. The quality of his voice was a little tight, but that was because to hear of such things from Zevran, and to have them to concealed to where he might have been callous in thoughts, actions, or words...]

She sounds wonderful. I'm... kind of sad I didn't have a chance to meet her. [But then, he might not have Zevran, though he kept that to himself. Nothing about this right now needed to be about his own selfishness. Zevran decided to speak, and he wasn't going to get in the way of that]

Jack says he had to kill me. In a dream. Yours wasn't like the dream bit he went off to?

[antivanleather]

She would have liked you and Jack. Approved, even. [His voice twists into something lighter and sweeter. Feminine for a moment.]'Such lovely boys you've found, Gallo, and clever too! It figures it would take you two men to replace me but Mmmm...I bet the three of you make such a lovely picture together...'

[He trails off with a sigh, nosing the curve of Eguene's neck. Soothing himself with a slow inhalation. Warm skin and wool and whatever spice he'd used to cook dinner the night before.]

She never truly cared for Taliesin...I should have listened to her.

[Far too little, far too late.]

It was and it wasn't. In the dream I...we. We escaped the Crows. We were living in a small flat just by the ocean in Antiva and we had days to do nothing but make love, drink wine, and enjoy each other. Everything after the job in Ferelden had been nothing more than a bad dream. The Blight. The Warden. The Deep Roads and this place. I forgot it all.

[His fingers curl tight in Eugene's shirt, his voice dipping low, sweeping and thick with tears he could not shed.]

You and Jack. I forgot the both of you so very easily and I'm sorry. I did not mean to- I did not want to-

[z_jay]

I can definitely appreciate a lady who has an eye for beauty involving the activities we get up to. [Even if those feelings on Zev's part had mysteriously vanished, he wasn't of the mind to hold it against him. What bonded them was thicker than that. But what was it about the people he knew dogging themselves when they knew they were hurting?]

...It's okay, Zev. Seriously, if I were to hold something like you being truly happy against you, then I'd be one hell of a shitty boyfriend, right? Just... [Sighs very softly, not in frustration but because he wasn't sure if telling Zevran it wasn't as big a deal as he thought it was, it would diminish Zevran's feelings on the matter.]

D'you think I'd want you to feel tormented about it?

[antivanleather]

[That word meant something, but it did not quite register or translate and Zevran was content to just go lax against Eugene once more. Comforted in the fact that he was not upset.]

No. You would not. But as much as I wished for the illusion to be true it would be denying what you and Jack are to me- so. I killed her. For the second time, I killed her. And I do not think I regret it as much now as I did the first.

[z_jay]

That's...

[Part of him felt... sad, for Zevran. Sad-- no, sorrowful that he would even be placed in a position to be forced into choosing. It was too cruel, honestly. From his standpoint, if Zevran were content with Rinna, he wouldn't stand in the way of that happiness. But again, a lie was just that, and to live one, perhaps worse than facing the truth.

He'd need to be a better boyfriend if this were the case. Taking a deep breath and letting it out on a sigh he pressed his lips to Zevran's temple]

[antivanleather]

The first was an accident- well. It is what we called it.

[Bit by bit the whole sordid tale came out. Rinna, Taliesin, the job, the betrayal, the return betrayal. Cutting her throat like a dog an watching her bleed out while denying his love for her.

The judgement that came from the masters. The reminder that he was nothing. A tool. Entirely expendable.

How he wanted to die and worked to find a death that would suit him well. How he failed to die and found purpose, how he lost that when he came to the village. How Eugene and Jack offered him that same purpose once more and pulled the tattered heart of him back into place.]

[z_jay]

[Listening was all he really could do in this instance, though it was probably one of the best things he could do. Lots of things needed to get off of people's chests, and if he had Zevran on his chest while he was doing it, things were pretty much alright.

But to hear of how Zevran could displace himself so easily from the love of his life for the sake of the job-- after the fact he was certain that he wouldn't repeat that, but it was something considerably tragic. Words wouldn't do justice to any type of consolation, all he had were his arms and ears.]

Hey, look we all... make some pretty massive mistakes but the important bit is that you moved on. And I'll say you're doing a remarkable job even with the... booziness.

[Tone light-- not to make light of Zevran's plight, but to keep it from overwhelming him unnecessarily, he shifted to try and catch his eyes, or at least, took hold of his face with both hands]

I was angry, I'm sorry for yelling. It's-- a bad habit I have doing to people I really care about.

[antivanleather]

Then you do? Care. Beyond the sharing of a bed and occasional massage?

[He's being extra thick, he knows, and extra afraid but he just...needs to hear it and hates that he's so desperate for it to be said. That he cannot beyond his own admissions and displays of affection is unsettling to him and feels unfair but he just. Needs to hear it, once and for all, from Eugene's lips.

He wouldn't ask were he sober.

He wouldn't have said much of what he's let slip tonight.]

[z_jay]

[To be so directly questioned in what he thought he gave plenty of evidence toward through example, Eugene nearly let his hackles rise. But... in the end, he couldn't fault Zevran for a moment of weakness. To ask for reassurance, more like.]

Well, yeah. Guess me and Jack are kind of numpties about expressing it verbally, but if we tease you, it means we like you. A lot. A-and we haven't really shared someone together.

[Except for Zevran, which while complicated, felt right. He simply was at a loss as to express it in words without sounding like he was fumbling blindly forward. He didn't like being too reckless after... what got him relying on a crutch for mobility.]

I do more than care, but if I say it, I'm willing to bet some credits that you'll use it as blackmail. But I'll take that chance. Yeah, I care about you a lot more than some people would deem appropriate.

[antivanleather]

That you care at all is more than most would deem appropriate. More than I should let you think is appropriate.

[It didn't make much sense but it didn't need to and he's tired and warm and Eugene is comfortable and there and he cares. And it's more than he's had from anyone, what he has with Jack and Eugene. It frightens him. It's too big, too real and he doesn't like that he couldn't express it.]

I care as well. I'm not...I don't do this. I don't care- I'm not supposed to. But you and Jack and...

[He shakes his head and buries his face in Eugene's shoulder to silence himself.]