Zevran Arainai (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
antivanleather) wrote2013-11-14 04:41 pm
antivanleather) wrote2013-11-14 04:41 pm
Sixth jump - you should know, you should know that [Action/Written]
[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.
[After some time spent reacquainting himself with the village's map he, warily, makes his way to House 51.]
[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.]
no subject
[Far from him to point out the obvious, but there were things that Luceti did to test the mettle of anyone. Still, he smiled at the brushed kiss against him, felt complete in a way he hadn't realized he'd missed. But he cleared his throat and poked Jack in the side-- a jab which wasn't subtle because he was going to need a shower, too...]
Why don't you help Zev get the bath ready?
no subject
[It's almost hopeful, the flirtatious comment. Said without his usual bravado and utter certainty. It's been some time, and he has missed them dearly but- so long. And he'd forgotten.]
no subject
Why wouldn't we? I just finished up at the battle dome and Gene - ha, Gene's like hugging a bag of coffee beans if he doesn't rinse off after work. [He tugs them after him, grinning.] Not the best combination.
no subject
[Okay, that came out of his mouth before his brain to mouth filter could stop him and he ducked out of the embrace, tugging his shirt off in the process to give them both a very good idea of where he was headed. The bathroom, for a bath, more specifically]
I don't know about you two losers, but I'm going to get a bath started.
no subject
[And he is promptly distracted by the naked expanse of Eugene's back as he walks away. He stutters to a stop, swallows and just. Leans after him for a long moment while watching the play of muscles under his skin, the ruffle of his feathers and, oh thank the Maker his body is as it should be.]
Jack- Naked? Naked is the plan. Naked is good.
[Shirt? Gone. Whipped up and off without an ounce of shame in the slightest as he tugs Jack along by his collar.]
no subject
Bossy, bossy.
no subject
Turning his head, he took sight of the two behind him, smiles and laughter and relieved reunion. For now, whatever misgivings he might even have were appeased with the knowledge that they really had worked, that this wasn't a bad arrangement. Enough of that, though... and he turned to get warm water started, disrobing further and without hesitation]
We'll see to it that your travel grime is well taken care of, Zev. Jack, grab some towels?
no subject
[He snorts softly as he stalls long enough to shuck off his leather trousers, kicking them to the side- his boots are in the front room. There is nothing he needs to care about aside from these two lovely men...and yet he stalls somewhat, nudging Jack ahead of him. To look at them?
Probably.
To suddenly remember he's got several new scars and a harsher cut to his figure? Most likely. He's not ever been one to be self conscious of his flaws and yet he finds his hands sliding over the paler pinked skin along his ribs and the divot of his hip- a pockmark in his shoulder. New injuries from hard marches.
He hopes he is yet lovely enough for his men.]
Might we not air dry? It has been so long since i have seen you both, Moca.
no subject
[Jack trailed off from rummaging in the cabinets for towels, looking back at Zevran at the first hint that he wasn't following. Or goosing one of them. Or sinking right into the heat of the bath and soaking it in. Armful of fluffy towels against his chest, he looked over his shoulder, perplexed by Zev's hesitation and the look on his face until his eyes followed hands trailing down the first scar. And the second. And- ah. Maybe that was it.
Stooping, he set the towels down by the bath, freeing his hands to reach out and take both of Zev's off of the litany of new injuries, kissing rough-skinned knuckles on one side and then the other in turn.]
Come on, handsome. In you go.
no subject
Had done just what he did, amazing him time and again with a perceptiveness that most would presume he never possessed.]
Hey, you like my mop.
[He stepped aside, motioning for Zev to enter first, pick the space he'd feel most comfortable before they climbed in after]
But we're going to towel dry. Otherwise it'll take more than a few hours.
[All the more reason to acquaint themselves, to smooth over any misgivings that may have arisen from absence and change]
no subject
He lets the past slide off his back in favor of the present, stepping into the bath. The heat is a welcome alternative to the chill and the water soothes him greatly.]
Your mop is quite lovely, Moca. As is Jack's own scruff.
no subject
[Jack sticks his tongue out at Eugene (Mister We're-Not-In-Abel-Anymore-You-Can-Groom-With-Real-Implements, as if scissors were not actually real implements), peeling out of the rest of his clothing before stepping gingerly into the heat of the bath.]
no subject
So instead, he made space for Jack and for Zevran, getting comfortable in the bath that could hold the three of them. Luxuries, the likes of which he'd resigned himself to never enjoying ever again back home]
You're still going to be upheld to grooming standards, Jack. It's lovely till it makes my face itch when you rub up against it.
no subject
[He settles in the water between them, leaning out enough to poke at a ledge he dimly remembers crafting. There was a catch or a cache or something...ah! There. He depresses a tile with a soft click and out slides a drawer with a straight razor, soap, and oil for afterward.]
Ah-ha, there it is. I knew I'd always told myself I would, if I had the time, build a bath with something like this inset into the side. I am going to have to remember where I've carved all my stashes in this house now.
no subject
Heck, I know there's at least four in the headboard. Right, Gene?
no subject
[He got comfortable with Jack settling against him, resting his arms loosely around him. A soft smile crept along the line of his lips and he watched Zev as he felt round to remember. To think he'd built all this, it was... impressive. Janine would find it impressive, but scoff at its luxury]
They're kind of handy, I'm pretty sure Zev had that kind of convenience in mind. Right?
no subject
[He murmurs as he finds the brush to lather up the soap as he twists and turns and shifts until he's comfortably and playfully straddling Jack's thighs in the water, warming his skin with a rough hand damp from the bath.]
You do have some scruff on you now, don't you? What have I told you of trying to grow facial hair? It only ever looks right on Eugene. On you your hair is too blond for how your face goes copper.
no subject
Come on, I'm not growing a beard or anything.
no subject
Are you suggesting I grow mine out, Zev?
no subject
[He pats Jack's cheek before he works up a lather, the straight razor in his other hand held steady. The set of his shoulders is loose, languid. Easy. He knows where he is and who he is with- but sudden movements would leave him anxious. Gene, being Gene, catches this easily enough and moves accordingly- hands warm and easy against the knots on his back, bracketing one of is new scars.]
Of course. You are perfectly handsome as you are, Moca, but of the three of us a beard would suit you best.
no subject
[Jack makes the quip with an appreciative, playful wiggle of his eyebrows, speaking mostly between swipes of lather.]
Weird for kissing purposes, granted. But still very manly.
no subject
[Despite the fact that he'd likely be weary, dripping wet, and naked to boot if they attempted it right now. But only two of those things might deter Zevran from taking action, and he would bet money that it wasn't from being naked]
no subject
[He reaches back to massage the side of Eugene's face with a soft laugh before turning his attention back to Jack, humming softly under his breath as he starts shaving him clean bit by bit. It's warm and easy and comfortable. Familiar. Grounding.]