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[ombranera]

I will write back as soon as possible.

Regards, Zevran

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crystal, on Honesty Day.

[ombranera]

That doesn't mean I can't try to have a little fun with this.

Oh, I know! Who is the prettiest?

crystal, on Honesty Day.

[byblow]

The prettiest what?

crystal, on Honesty Day.

[ombranera]

Now you are being difficult. Who is the prettiest Warden?

crystal, on Honesty Day.

[byblow]

In Thedas?

crystal, on Honesty Day.

[ombranera]

In camp shaded assholes.

crystal, on Honesty Day.

[byblow]

I wish you wouldn't call it that.

In the camp at the moment, you mean? Or—

[ No, okay, now he really is being difficult. He stops. ]

Objectively I think it would have to be Scipio. If you took a poll. But for me, and with full awareness that her sister would—not kill me, but would give me a look that would make me feel worried for my safety—Bethany.

crystal, on Honesty Day.

[ombranera]

You are Grey Wardens for a reason, Alistair. You are allowed to be shaded assholes.

[ Or shady fuckers, whichever suits best. ]

Oh no, she would kill you after laughing with you and giving you a fair head start. Marian was kind that way.

crystal, on Honesty Day.

[byblow]

That doesn't mean that we should be. Or that we should be proud of it.

[ He has so many feelings.

That he's putting aside to laugh, under his breath. ]

I miss her.

crystal, on Honesty Day.

[ombranera]

She was marvelous. [ In so many ways. ] All heroes tend to be.

...Do you miss him as well? Jonas.

crystal, on Honesty Day.

[byblow]

[ Have some sulky, teeth-gritting silence. ]

crystal, on Honesty Day.

[ombranera]

[ That's fine, he can wait. ]

crystal, on Honesty Day.

[byblow]

[ Can he wait forever? ]

crystal, on Honesty Day.

[ombranera]

[ He can wait till something soft and snuffling starts to fuss on his end. So. He can wait an hour. ]

crystal, on Honesty Day.

[byblow]

[ That's such a long time, when you're a man with approximately the same amount of patience for silence as a particularly noisy bird. ]

Yes.

I'm still mad at him, though.

crystal, on Honesty Day.

[ombranera]

Are you mad at me for keeping in touch?

crystal, on Honesty Day.

[byblow]

Not anymore. I know I'm your favorite.

[ He manages to sound pleased and a little sulky at the same time. ]

Are you finished? I want to know about Mia.

crystal, on Honesty Day.

[ombranera]

You will always be my favorite, Alistair.

[ He feels a little guilty, what with Lucci on his shoulder- but it is still true. ]

Ah- she said she loved me and she kissed me.

crystal, on Honesty Day.

[byblow]

[ Lucci can be his ultimate favorite as long as Alistair remains his favorite Warden, human, or person-who-is-not-his-literal-child. That's fine. He'll allow it. ]

Annnnd?

crystal, on Honesty Day.

[ombranera]

And...that's it. She does not desire me in the carnal sense. She does not desire much of anyone. It is like what we have, the sentiment without the wanting, though more romantic than platonic.

[ombranera]

"Some things are impossible to forget." Especially when boots were not a matter of boots but of grip and a light tread and something to protect the shins. When looting or buying equipment to keep themselves alive, one learns things. One remembers.

He could pick out boots, gloves, and full armor for everyone they traveled with a decade ago, give or take a little space.

"...Yes? I made a bet with Oghren that Sten and Alistair would kiss in the same amount of time. These are idle things. The stuff you say when you are bored and on the road and tired of playing I Spy with a qunari."

[fightingale]

"Oh." Her indignance softens off, her back straightens again, and it is something like like the Leliana of old and closer to the Nightingale once more. Still, the Nightingale holding a baby and playing with him is perhaps never going to be so much the Nightingale that people see day to day. There are vestiges of who she used to be that she cannot shake off, for all that she denies them.

Still, the thought of Sten and Oghren wins something more from her - not quite a laugh, nor a smile, but something. A lightness. "Do you remember how Sten would stop to smell flowers, when he thought no one was looking?"

[ombranera]

Luccio takes the moment to reach up and swipe for that bright, pretty red hair. He is going to make trouble for himself if he is not careful and Zevran likely ought to say something- but the image is still too charming for him to bother.

Especially when some of that shadow drifts back and there are glimmers of the girl he'd teased on the road. "I remember the face he made when you told him you saw him with that kitten and string."

[fightingale]

Oh, no. It has begun. Leliana tilts her head back to try and evade Luciano's grip, but she supposes that lone braid must be especially taunting. Perhaps if she does something with the hood-- she pulls it back up, using it to cover part of her face, before flipping it back and making a face at him.

And that brings a dawning realisation, when coupled with the kitten and string comment.

"Mm." Lightly: "If you ever tell anyone about this, you will regret it."

[ombranera]

For the first time since Leliana called him out for hiding Anders? Zevran smiles at her earnestly. Openly and without reservation, far too charmed by his boy trying to reach her hair or reach her face or reach anything- and by Leliana cooing. Playing with his little light.

How darling. Perhaps he might sketch this while his boy sleeps.

"No one will hear of it from me, and Lucci is a bit young to be telling your secrets." He reaches out to stroke his boy's hair. "I do not want anyone to know of him- they will want to visit and become attached and I am certain he is safe anywhere else."

That is the main reason he has not yet told Alistair.

[fightingale]

"Oh, that I know. That does not mean that if you should one day make knowledge of him more widely known that this would not come to the fore."

And she will remember. Except without any actual concern to be had, because she wouldn't really mind. Probably. Maybe.

She pauses, head canting just slightly to the side, and unfortunately leaving her hair momentarily in grabbing range. "One could contend that there is nowhere safer than the Inquisition," she starts, but there is a slowness and a caution in it that belies that this apparent safehaven is the place from which the Crows plucked Zevran scant months ago. "If you wanted to keep him by your side. Arrangements could surely be made."

A poor show of pragmatism, but Zevran is her friend. If this is what would be necessary for his happiness, and perhaps his safety through that, she would find a means to see it done.