Sixth jump - you should know, you should know that [Action/Written]

[antivanleather]

[Action, locked to Isaac]

[This is not how Zevran imagined the first few hours of his freedom would be. The wine and the feasting and the drinking the day before, certainly. But the first morning after he had finished collecting his effects and bidding farewell to the Warden he intended to spend on the road. Leaving Ferelden for warmer climes. He did not intend to wake in a cell.

And yet, here he is, despite the best intentions. He wakes slowly arms flexing against his restraints and he keeps his head for the first few moments. Just manacles. Just a cold, dark cave like many that the Crows preferred to use for their longer imprisonments. But were this the Crows he would be dead, that went without saying. No, no. This is a personal vendetta- which leaves Zevran free to consider who it is he pissed off this time to earn such attentions while he works at attempting to lean just enough so that he might pull a pick from his hair. That he has none is worrying.

That there is no manner in which the manacles might be removed is of a greater concern. But when he finds that they actually constrict when he attempts to twist his thumb enough to pop it out of place and holds him all the tighter- then. Then he panics.

Crows are terrible. Nobles are worse. Mages, those that yet live and wish him dead? Horrify him and he used to be better at fighting down the swell of cold fear and the anxious ratcheting of his heart. Used to be able to laugh through it, to grin and smile and shrug off torment such as sensory deprivation and capture. It is cold. It is dark. He is alone. He is held by a mage he cannot recall at the moment and after all that he witness at the final battle in Denerim that is what makes him shift in earnest, rattle his chains and lash out with a foot to find purchase- he finds that his feet are bare and the wall is solid, little more. Brasca.]

[Action, Open]

[Later, when he is freed and his personal effects returned, when he realizes where he is in earnest and is armored and armed and less out of sorts Zev ducks into the Coffee Shop for a cup of something hot and bitter, leaving a rather short note in the journal for whoever might have missed him, though save a bare handful he cannot imagine it would be many. He does not even know if they yet remain.]

While I am pleased to have found my way back to this delightful village, I think awaking in a random bed might have been the better introduction. At least it was warm.

Fondest regards,

Zevran

[After some time spent reacquainting himself with the village's map he, warily, makes his way to House 51.]

Comments

[antivanleather]

[He takes the moment offered to enjoy his coffee. Use that bittersweet warmth to bolster him. Fill in the sore holes. This stings more than he feels it ought considering the fragments he can recall. There's something deeper here he cannot place- and honestly? Does not care to.

It hurts.

He would rather not spend too much time picking at sores. He won't ever mend if he does that. He waits until Eugene returns, coffee finished, manner mild and distantly pleasant.]

[z_jay]

[For its mildness, it's more unnerving. And that he's not the one to bring solace to Zevran, but instead the opposite wears on him. His apron's gone, now, just a t-shirt with jeans and two whole legs he still couldn't take for granted. Briefly he wanted to tell Zevran he could go and do as he wished instead of escorting him home, but he'd offered.

His smile didn't reach his eyes and he knew it, but maybe he was jumping to conclusions. They'd get home, realize that they were both being dumb, and life would carry on with a brief hiccup behind them. But as he walked alongside Zevran it didn't resurface, the same feeling he'd had before, and it was distressing.]

So, what happened? You look a little rough round the edges, like you could use a nice, long vacation.

[antivanleather]

I fought a war.

[That grand quest he had spoken so much about before, the battle for the fate of the world. It wears upon a man when the fighting never stops and the dead continue to pile up. One day. The siege and battle of Denerim only took one day.

For a moment that blandness flattens out into something hollow and almost cold before the next step has him back to mild and pleasant. A wry quirk of a smile, no harm, no foul.]

We saved the world, just as we set out to do.

[z_jay]

[Unbidden, he felt a surge of pride for Zev, to have fought and won for something so important. This smile did reach his eyes, having missed the brief lapse in Zevran's carefully maintained mask]

Congratulations! Wow... I know that's really quite the accomplishment, but I don't know how to even say that enough...

[But at what cost? First and foremost, even if he didn't have that same reciprocal spark he'd had for Zevran prior, it didn't mean he didn't care. He reached over, place a hand on Zev's shoulder. A gesture of solidarity as he gave a soft squeeze]

Sounds like a hot bath and dinner are in order for you tonight, then. And rest.

[antivanleather]

I simply fought. The Warden led. She led all of us. Made a king out of bumbling templar bastard. Not the call I might have made but- Ferelden has had worse rulers. He is a good man. Young, optimistic but...a good man. He will do well.

[Perhaps he should have remained in Denerim. Lived in to protect Alistair, defend the fledgling king. It might have been better for him to have a pet noble and the pet noble to have a crow in the pocket. Especially with how his reign will doubtless be contested.

He's jarred from his thoughts by the hand on his shoulder- locking up and flinching away habitually. He doesn't lash out, but it is a near thing.

it's just Eugene.

Just one part of the fragile web of his heart. No one important at all. Right.]

It'd be much appreciated.

[z_jay]

[His hand snatched away, briefly forgetting Zevran's skills and how touch might cause concern... and it left him feeling somewhat like he deserved that. Touching was now out of bounds, and he stopped where he was, looking at his hand. Appreciation was better than disregard, but he felt less than a friend in this moment, a stranger, politely distanced. That hurt, but what had he expected?]

...Yeah. It's the least I can do.

[Taking in a breath through his nose, he steeled himself with a pleasant smile and started forward again. No sense in wallowing or giving Zevran false hopes. That, he concluded, would be cruel. This was a mess that was his fault, he needed to own up to it.]

Bath, dinner, sleep. In that order, c'mon, now.

[Because while they needed to speak, they needed also to be in their best frame of mind.]

[antivanleather]

Eugene- I...

[He reaches out to apologize- hand hovering in the air between them for a moment before dropping it. They aren't- perhaps they never were despite everything he'd thought to be contrary. He had imagined that affection, that warmth. Of course he had.

Assassins do not get to deal in love. Crows do not get to have happy homes where they are wed.

Masterless Crows least of all.

face set and shoulders steeled he follows Eugene into his home. Not theirs. Eugene's. It hasn't been his home for months.

He is not welcome here.]

Perhaps just dinner. I would not wish to take up more of your time than you would give freely.

[z_jay]

Look.

[There's something weary in his voice, because no matter what, he's the root cause of all this hurt that's manifested in Zev. And it isn't as though he wants to be, but lying about it wouldn't sit well, either. Soft, but firm, that's how he reasoned this would go best. Not only would this cause Zevran distress, but Jack as well. Being at odds with the both of them... would be...]

I really don't want you to leave. I'm giving this freely, I've missed you-- There's some things that you and I need to discuss, yes, but don't make Jack worry.

[He stopped at the door, looking Zev in the eye if Zev would let him. This wasn't just a rift between himself and Zevran, he'd have to answer to Jack, too. And that was also complicated.]

It's my fault. My mess. Because when people--

[Speaking further would only lead to deeper discussion, and he was trying to avoid it for the moment, so he stopped short and switched gears]

He wouldn't want you gone, and frankly, neither do I. But let's not fight over this now. We'll talk about this later, but I need you here to do that.

[antivanleather]

Because keeping secrets from Jack or discussing things without his input never goes wrong.

[He's too tired for it to be cutting. Too dry to be amused, too low to be confident. He is the barest shell of what he once was- and if who he had been isn't enough for Eugene, however would he be any better now that he's hollowed out and full of little more than the blood of the fallen?]

This isn't a fight, Gene. I am sick to death of fighting. I have none left in me. This is a quesgion, one question, that you need to answer honestly before we do anything else. No evading, no lying for whatever reason, no waving it off for later. I would rather have this said and said truthfully now.

[And Maker above he's going to ask it before he takes one more step forward. Nevermind that anyone could hear or see. Nevermind that he's cut out the battered, fragile thing that Eugene first put back into working order in the first place during his last stay here. Nevermind that he's holding it up and braced for it to be shattered.

he's never been a terribly smart elf, after all.]

Do you love me?

[z_jay]

[Leave it to Zevran to cut to the matter, force the issue even to the point of injuring himself. There was a tension in his shoulders but he forced that down as he maintained eye contact with him. He knew the answer, and this was too public, but backing down now would be worse.]

No. No, I don't.

[But would Zevran be happy with someone forced to? He would argue his case, but right now he felt his heart pounding hard-- not fear in as much as it was just adrenaline. This was intensely uncomfortable for all involved, no doubt]

But even you know there's more kinds of love than romantic.

[antivanleather]

[He really, truly should learn better than to tread where other men have laid claim. It never ends well. Bad enough when all it is to taste and envy is skin and sighs and tangled limbs. Worst is the joy he thought he'd had, that affection he'd imagined, that sense of home he had dreamed was false.

Is false.

Had likely ever been false.

His expression does not so much as shift as it does settle. He had expected this on some level. Likely it is the same for Jack.]

Did you love me then?

[z_jay]

[There's very little else to say when he saw the resignation there, knowing that this was a point he couldn't come back from. But for what it was worth, it hadn't been false.]

I did.

[Now it seemed that even bringing him here was cruel, everything felt wrong. But there was nothing he could do to minimize it at this juncture. Glancing away, he looked out and down the pathway that brought them here.]

[antivanleather]

[Two words.

Two words that could be kindness to say he once loved and no longer did. It's gentler- and Eugene had ever done what he could to be gentle.

It does not keep the lie from twisting in his gut. He allows himself a moment to breathe. Perhaps two.]

I'll return tomorrow to collect that which belongs to me.

[z_jay]

[Tomorrow, then, he'd make himself scarce, if to spare Zev further heart ache. He nodded, agreeing, because forcing Zev into their home which he no longer considered his own, was something that he would want to avoid should their situations be reversed.]

Where are you staying tonight?

[He still cared, Zevran's welfare was a real driving force behind his question. Essentially, it was none of his business, if Zevran didn't want him to know, he wouldn't press the issue. But also, in case Jack wanted to go to see him, he could at least give him something...]

[antivanleather]

That would include the rings.

[Eugene can explain why Zevran is taking them back. He knows well enough that usually the wife is permitted to keep the jewel from her betrothal; but there are no wives here. Just men.]

What does it matter where a crow nests? They have no home. In this- nothing has changed.

[z_jay]

[That was it, then. For a few long seconds he watched Zev before looking away, with a soft nod]

Alright. Just-- let Jack know if he asks? I'm only speaking for myself here.

[Sure, things hadn't gone according to plan at all, and everything felt like it had just been scrambled round to the impossible point that it'd never settle properly ever again. And there was some anger at that, but he wasn't foolish enough to show that anger to Zev. Who had already fought in his war and saved his world and likely lost in the process. Who or what, he didn't know, and at this point he wasn't privy to that information.]

...Stay safe out there.

[antivanleather]

Jack is not mine to speak to.

[No more than Eugene is now. No more than anyone is to a man unwed. He had said those things on the beach, done everything he could to make it special. He had put a hole in his ear for these men, had given up the one thing he had that he held dear. He had stood on the shore and spoken every kind and hopeful thought he'd had in him to give. He had cracked himself wide open and laid out every last shred of himself for Eugene and this man found him wanting.

You can't love nothing, Zev.

He'd been told that once. Apparently you could. He had. These men had pretended to do much the same for however long. Men do not love elves.

Bards do not love assassins.

He had been foolish to ever assume something like that could ever change. Crows do not have hearts to break.

So this pain is nothing more than the same hallow ache he's felt since he woke in that dungeon. Nothing more. He feels nothing.

And he is nothing.

The Masters had been right.]

He is and ever has been, and ever shall be yours. You speak to him. Enjoy your home and your life, Ser Woods. Call me if you find youself in need of my services.