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"Normally I would say it is a simple thing to fix but very little of you two is simple." And again, why is this his problem. He stuck his nose in where he shouldn't, again, and it's made a mess, again, and he is attempting to clean it up by being...helpful.
Weighing this against how ten years ago he might've stabbed the man and move on, Zevran isn't entirely certain this is a sign of growth or softness. "The first thing you need to learn is not everyone actually wants to kill you- while also being aware that everyone probably could."
Wait that probably isn't helpful. "The average person does not default to murder." There! Better.
Weighing this against how ten years ago he might've stabbed the man and move on, Zevran isn't entirely certain this is a sign of growth or softness. "The first thing you need to learn is not everyone actually wants to kill you- while also being aware that everyone probably could."
Wait that probably isn't helpful. "The average person does not default to murder." There! Better.
Who in Andraste's name gave you a baby?
[ --is probably not the right thing to say, in this situation, but he hasn't grasped what this situation is. He does set Doghren down, though, and moves to be helpful with the air of someone who is humoring a slightly deranged people; even if he believes there's a baby in the room, which all giggling and burbling aside he isn't sure he does, he doesn't see what the fuss is.
He goes the opposite way, crawling on top of the bed to hang down on its other side and look upside-down beneath it. Doghren skitters around to keep trying to lick his face--with more success, this time. ]
[ --is probably not the right thing to say, in this situation, but he hasn't grasped what this situation is. He does set Doghren down, though, and moves to be helpful with the air of someone who is humoring a slightly deranged people; even if he believes there's a baby in the room, which all giggling and burbling aside he isn't sure he does, he doesn't see what the fuss is.
He goes the opposite way, crawling on top of the bed to hang down on its other side and look upside-down beneath it. Doghren skitters around to keep trying to lick his face--with more success, this time. ]
His mother-
[ Ah, is that a little bit of cubby child behind the- no. Slipped away. Zevran swears softly under his breath and wriggles to slip his hand in deeper, ignoring Alistair's incredulity up until the exact moment where Luciano squeals.
Someone new!
As far to the other side as the child is Lucci reaches up to grab at Alistair's face, hands oddly sticky. Somehow. It is a constant state for children, stickiness and grabbing. They pat at his cheeks, these tiny fat hands, and grab at his nose, shrieking happily. The sound is grating. The child is also very much naked. ]
[ Ah, is that a little bit of cubby child behind the- no. Slipped away. Zevran swears softly under his breath and wriggles to slip his hand in deeper, ignoring Alistair's incredulity up until the exact moment where Luciano squeals.
Someone new!
As far to the other side as the child is Lucci reaches up to grab at Alistair's face, hands oddly sticky. Somehow. It is a constant state for children, stickiness and grabbing. They pat at his cheeks, these tiny fat hands, and grab at his nose, shrieking happily. The sound is grating. The child is also very much naked. ]
Blaaaeugckh, [ Alistair says, dropping both hands to the floor to keep from tipping over. That leaves none to protect his face from the baby or the dog, for a moment. A moment that's filled with stickiness and saliva.
After that moment, when he's managed to turn his head into his bicep for some small amount of safety and regain his bearings, he swipes his other arm beneath the bed to sweep the baby out from under it like a lost boot--out and up, with the gentle recklessness of a man who has been around children enough to know they're breakable but not delicate, to pull him up by his tiny middle and plop the him onto the bed beside Alistair's ribs.
That's two moments, so far. A third and he's rolled and twisted to sit back up on the bed, hair mussed and nose glistening with Maker knows what, squinting at the little creature like he's--
Like he's oddly familiar. ]
After that moment, when he's managed to turn his head into his bicep for some small amount of safety and regain his bearings, he swipes his other arm beneath the bed to sweep the baby out from under it like a lost boot--out and up, with the gentle recklessness of a man who has been around children enough to know they're breakable but not delicate, to pull him up by his tiny middle and plop the him onto the bed beside Alistair's ribs.
That's two moments, so far. A third and he's rolled and twisted to sit back up on the bed, hair mussed and nose glistening with Maker knows what, squinting at the little creature like he's--
Like he's oddly familiar. ]
Do not bite him you do not know where he has been- Alistair mind your ears he likes to pull-
[ Which he would learn in short order, sticky fingers grasping at hair, at ears, at anything and everything he could get his sticky hands on. The swooping and scooping earns another bright burble of laughter, as he rolls himself over to beam at Alistair, squeaking and squealing happily. The eyes might be blue and the hair might be curly-
But that is indeed a little elven boy with tanned skin, blond hair, and a nose similar to his father's. Who is currently scrambling up from where he'd found Lucci's (clean) diaper and begun repinning it with some fumbling sense of vague familiarity. Something done often but not all that well just yet.
Mia usually corrects him. ]
While I am very pleased you are smart enough to work the pins, Lucci, I am not pleased with your desire to crawl about naked at all hours. You do not know what has been on the stone, dogren has been on the stone, and you do not know where doghren has been! [ From below the puppy whines and- once Zevran is certain his son will not roll off the bed? He reaches down to scoop the dog up as well. ] You know where you have been, yes, but that does not make it any less awful.
[ Which he would learn in short order, sticky fingers grasping at hair, at ears, at anything and everything he could get his sticky hands on. The swooping and scooping earns another bright burble of laughter, as he rolls himself over to beam at Alistair, squeaking and squealing happily. The eyes might be blue and the hair might be curly-
But that is indeed a little elven boy with tanned skin, blond hair, and a nose similar to his father's. Who is currently scrambling up from where he'd found Lucci's (clean) diaper and begun repinning it with some fumbling sense of vague familiarity. Something done often but not all that well just yet.
Mia usually corrects him. ]
While I am very pleased you are smart enough to work the pins, Lucci, I am not pleased with your desire to crawl about naked at all hours. You do not know what has been on the stone, dogren has been on the stone, and you do not know where doghren has been! [ From below the puppy whines and- once Zevran is certain his son will not roll off the bed? He reaches down to scoop the dog up as well. ] You know where you have been, yes, but that does not make it any less awful.
[ Alistair watches the scene with a wariness he generally reserves for creepy dark caverns where something may be waiting to try to kill him or people who are trying to sell him something. The resemblance, Zevran's familiarity—Zevran's ridiculous fretting, given Alistair grew up in a heap of dogs and Zevran somewhere far worse and neither of them died of it—
The conclusion is obvious. But he isn't ready to jump to it. He meant it, when he encouraged Zevran to think about children, but he meant it another way. A way that would happen some years from now, gradually, with warning and time for Alistair to tease him and reassure him and—be a part of it, one way or another, even if it was only by letter.
He thinks back. It must have been a month.
And Doghren knows the baby. She tries to lick his face, and Alistair drags her back and holds her—feeling suddenly, selfishly shut out, like he's standing on the other side of all the doorways he wasn't allowed to cross in the castle. He shoves it away. But he doesn't ask, either. Doghren puts him a minor struggle and yips, and he tells her, ] Shh, [ and doesn't look away from Zevran's hands and the baby. ]
The conclusion is obvious. But he isn't ready to jump to it. He meant it, when he encouraged Zevran to think about children, but he meant it another way. A way that would happen some years from now, gradually, with warning and time for Alistair to tease him and reassure him and—be a part of it, one way or another, even if it was only by letter.
He thinks back. It must have been a month.
And Doghren knows the baby. She tries to lick his face, and Alistair drags her back and holds her—feeling suddenly, selfishly shut out, like he's standing on the other side of all the doorways he wasn't allowed to cross in the castle. He shoves it away. But he doesn't ask, either. Doghren puts him a minor struggle and yips, and he tells her, ] Shh, [ and doesn't look away from Zevran's hands and the baby. ]
This- [ He starts, lamely, hands finishing with the last of the pins and tugging Lucci's hands gently away. ] Is not, exactly, how I wished to introduce you. But as you might have guessed...this is why I did not join you in the Western Approach. He is why I remained in Skyhold.
[ Lucci begins fretting, his burbling laughter twisting to a sharp frown that has Zevran grimacing. Oh, the screaming would start soon enough- but he reaches up easy as you please to bat at the mobile hanging from above the bed. Brightly colored nugs and feathers made of fabric, bells and chimes spin into motion and this seems to appease the infant for the moment. Long enough for Zevran to try to wipe some of the...whatever it is Lucci has gotten on himself off with a damn cloth. ]
His mother came to me, suddenly, not long after I myself returned from Antiva. She is to be married to a Merchant Prince. [ He has said this a few times, now, but it does not become any simpler. ] They do not take kindly to bastards, as you might expect. I...did not wish you to know until I was certain I meant to keep him.
[ Lucci begins fretting, his burbling laughter twisting to a sharp frown that has Zevran grimacing. Oh, the screaming would start soon enough- but he reaches up easy as you please to bat at the mobile hanging from above the bed. Brightly colored nugs and feathers made of fabric, bells and chimes spin into motion and this seems to appease the infant for the moment. Long enough for Zevran to try to wipe some of the...whatever it is Lucci has gotten on himself off with a damn cloth. ]
His mother came to me, suddenly, not long after I myself returned from Antiva. She is to be married to a Merchant Prince. [ He has said this a few times, now, but it does not become any simpler. ] They do not take kindly to bastards, as you might expect. I...did not wish you to know until I was certain I meant to keep him.
[ Alistair doesn't react very much—listening, but still preoccupied with having feelings—until that last bit. Then he looks up, face screwing up in a way not entirely unlike the way Lucci's had, and helpfully demonstrates exactly why the secrecy was necessary: ]
What the flaming pyre else would you have done with him?
What the flaming pyre else would you have done with him?
Given him to a family that is unable to have children, that would care for him and keep him safe as I am not someone that would make a good father- nor is my work terribly safe. [ Oblivious to his father's discomfit and Alistair's upset, Lucci continues to babble and roll over, crawling to the new person- or rather to Doghren.
She is a favored playmate. ]
She is a favored playmate. ]
Don't be ridiculous, [ Alistair says, but that's all. For now. Zevran's already said he's keeping him, so there's no need to fight about it, and Alistair is distracted by the child's approach and Doghren's renewed straining to be free to play with him. Alistair lets her go this time, leaving Alistair to curl one arm around his middle and rest the other hand on his knee. He isn't used to feeling awkward here. ] How did—how old is he?
[ An argument for another time, that. For now Zevran reaches out to keep Lucci from yanking on Doghren's ears- though he cannot quite stop the infant from tugging one gnarly paw and attempting to gum it. Doghren, somehow infinitely patient with these shenanigans, permits it so long as she gets to chew on Lucci's curls.
It is ultimately the lesser of many evils and Zevran allows this. ]
Nine months.
It is ultimately the lesser of many evils and Zevran allows this. ]
Nine months.
He's cute. [ Nonspecific, distant. He still needs a few seconds to adjust. But those seconds pass, and he smiles, finally. It's not his best smile. A little smirky, a little sharp, not quite forgiveness for the hurt feelings that Alistair has no actual intentions to voice aloud and will get over all on his own with a bit more time. ] He might be cuter than you.
It is the only reason I did not give him up, that cuteness. No one else would appreciate it.
[ Well, no one besides him and Alistair. Zevran sighs and tips over to fall on his side, watching the boy and dog at play- Lucci tires of the taste of paw and babbles, crawling over with both the rag and himself somehow more sticky for it. Marvelous. He sets upon Zevran's hair as he'd been so foolish to leave it loose and Zevran-
Allows this. Too tired to truly complain. ]
His name is Luciano. Lucci.
[ Well, no one besides him and Alistair. Zevran sighs and tips over to fall on his side, watching the boy and dog at play- Lucci tires of the taste of paw and babbles, crawling over with both the rag and himself somehow more sticky for it. Marvelous. He sets upon Zevran's hair as he'd been so foolish to leave it loose and Zevran-
Allows this. Too tired to truly complain. ]
His name is Luciano. Lucci.
Also cute.
[ He watches quietly for another few moments—still on the other side of that line—before pity and empathy and the fact that Zevran hasn't actually told him to keep out win the day. He pulls the flame pendant out from his shirt and over his head by the chain and dangles it in Lucci's line of sight. It's too small for him to play with on his own, but Alistair won't let go. ]
Have you been keeping Zevran awake all night? That's my job. [ No. He's not going to be jealous of an infant (again). He refuses. There's barely a pause before he goes on. ] Hurry up and learn how to talk, and I'll teach you to do it right. The trick is to ask him questions. It doesn't matter if they're not important. He can't help answering.
[ He watches quietly for another few moments—still on the other side of that line—before pity and empathy and the fact that Zevran hasn't actually told him to keep out win the day. He pulls the flame pendant out from his shirt and over his head by the chain and dangles it in Lucci's line of sight. It's too small for him to play with on his own, but Alistair won't let go. ]
Have you been keeping Zevran awake all night? That's my job. [ No. He's not going to be jealous of an infant (again). He refuses. There's barely a pause before he goes on. ] Hurry up and learn how to talk, and I'll teach you to do it right. The trick is to ask him questions. It doesn't matter if they're not important. He can't help answering.
[ Immediately drawn by the new toy, Lucci heaves himself up- rolling like a chubby little elf ball, to stretch and reach for that dangling pendant. Every swipe comes with it's own bright, gurgling squeal. Adorable the first few times- but it quickly becomes tiresome. Zevran's glazed, weary eyes probably are proof enough of this truth. ]
You are not teaching my son your bad habits. [ There's still that moment of hesitance before he says 'my son'. There likely always would be. This? This is not something he ever saw for himself. Not in truth. Not in any way that he'd have to live with it for long. ] He does not need words to ask. He points and grunts meaningfully often enough.
You are not teaching my son your bad habits. [ There's still that moment of hesitance before he says 'my son'. There likely always would be. This? This is not something he ever saw for himself. Not in truth. Not in any way that he'd have to live with it for long. ] He does not need words to ask. He points and grunts meaningfully often enough.
A man of few words, eh? Going to be the strong silent type?
[ Fat chance. Forget Alistair's bad habits; he'll pick up Zevran's. Alistair watches Lucci, lets him catch the pendant but stops him from putting it in his mouth, and casts an occasional glance toward Zevran, who looks—miserable. Alistair has been in better shape himself. He's tired. But it isn't the marrow-deep exhaustion he's been carrying around for a year, anymore, and if he can't save his order from itself or anyone from anything important, he can at least do this: he can sweep Lucci up into one arm, and Doghren in the other, and relocate with them both to the floor, as far from the bed as he can get. ]
We're going to get acquainted, [ he announces on the way. ] You're not allowed to help him impress me. He has to do it himself. So you just—stay there. For at least half an hour.
[ Fat chance. Forget Alistair's bad habits; he'll pick up Zevran's. Alistair watches Lucci, lets him catch the pendant but stops him from putting it in his mouth, and casts an occasional glance toward Zevran, who looks—miserable. Alistair has been in better shape himself. He's tired. But it isn't the marrow-deep exhaustion he's been carrying around for a year, anymore, and if he can't save his order from itself or anyone from anything important, he can at least do this: he can sweep Lucci up into one arm, and Doghren in the other, and relocate with them both to the floor, as far from the bed as he can get. ]
We're going to get acquainted, [ he announces on the way. ] You're not allowed to help him impress me. He has to do it himself. So you just—stay there. For at least half an hour.
[ It says something for how new to this Zevran is, how uncertain that even when it is Alistair doing the sweeping and the scooping- he starts, scrambling upright, hand outstretched as though to catch or clutch away. Playing is one thing. Sudden movements another- but the offer is made and it is one that...he can get behind. He is weary, he cannot continue to watch Lucci while so exhausted not safely.
His hand falls back to the bed and he crumples, curling around a pillow. A little shifting and tucking has him propped up somewhat, facing them, good eye giving him a solid view of the three of them on the floor. ]
He grabs, he's teething and if he starts to gnaw upon his hands and cry there are chilled rags treated with mint oil and honey in the wooden chest on my desk. If he is hungry there is a list of what is best for him also on my desk- lately he has taken to mashed up apple quite well. He rubs his eyes and starts to tug on his hair when he's tired but too cranky to actually nap-
His hand falls back to the bed and he crumples, curling around a pillow. A little shifting and tucking has him propped up somewhat, facing them, good eye giving him a solid view of the three of them on the floor. ]
He grabs, he's teething and if he starts to gnaw upon his hands and cry there are chilled rags treated with mint oil and honey in the wooden chest on my desk. If he is hungry there is a list of what is best for him also on my desk- lately he has taken to mashed up apple quite well. He rubs his eyes and starts to tug on his hair when he's tired but too cranky to actually nap-
[ Alistair listens, nodding here and there, while he settles down onto the floor with his kidnapping victim, Lucci in the corner, Alistair's back to Zevran and legs splayed to create a barrier the baby will have to cross to escape. Alistair's reflexes are at least that fast. ]
I'll wake you up if he needs you, [ he promises. He won't be able to help it. With how jumpy Zevran is, Alistair doubts he'll be able to sleep through any crying or commotion. To Lucci, he's quieter: ] You sound like a lot of trouble, ser. Just like your father. Does he put oil in your hair?
[ It's a rhetorical question. Go to sleep, Zev. ]
I'll wake you up if he needs you, [ he promises. He won't be able to help it. With how jumpy Zevran is, Alistair doubts he'll be able to sleep through any crying or commotion. To Lucci, he's quieter: ] You sound like a lot of trouble, ser. Just like your father. Does he put oil in your hair?
[ It's a rhetorical question. Go to sleep, Zev. ]
Yes. It frizzes otherwise.
[ Alistair cannot expect Zevran to let his son have frizzy hair now, can he? The answer is muffled, mumbled into the softness of the pillow. Rest is a welcome respite but he does not let himself drift so easily, wishing to watch Alistair and the child for a little while longer.
Lucci makes another one of his burbling, chirping happy noises and crawls for Doghren on the other side of Alistair's leg, working his way up as best he could. No limbs are going to stop HIM from getting away. ]
[ Alistair cannot expect Zevran to let his son have frizzy hair now, can he? The answer is muffled, mumbled into the softness of the pillow. Rest is a welcome respite but he does not let himself drift so easily, wishing to watch Alistair and the child for a little while longer.
Lucci makes another one of his burbling, chirping happy noises and crawls for Doghren on the other side of Alistair's leg, working his way up as best he could. No limbs are going to stop HIM from getting away. ]
[ Alistair raises his knee to keep Lucci from crawling over it, lowers it to keep him from crawling under it, then relents and leans backwards to recover Doghren from the floor beyond it. In the time it takes him to do that, his leg barrier is unguarded, but he catches Lucci on his way back to upright and sets the puppy down within reach. He would apologize to her, but she doesn't seem to mind. ]
No frizzing for you. Nope. What would the Orlesians say?
No frizzing for you. Nope. What would the Orlesians say?
[ In a sleep muzzy slurred Orlesian Accent, Zevran manages . ]
He looks like a little dandelion, that one.
[ Lucci rolls back over with Doghren in his grasp, burbling happily and hugging the dog. There is some playful wrestling about, that is to be certain. ]
He looks like a little dandelion, that one.
[ Lucci rolls back over with Doghren in his grasp, burbling happily and hugging the dog. There is some playful wrestling about, that is to be certain. ]
The stare Zevran receives isn't quite blank, but it is... certainly ambivalent. How exactly does one react to that sentiment?
"Oh," he says benignly, then tilts his head a little. "...but they do... want me out of their presence, generally," he adds, with a near question mark at the end. If they just wanted him dead, it would be stressful, but probably would have come to fruition by now. Instead they just want him to go away.
"Oh," he says benignly, then tilts his head a little. "...but they do... want me out of their presence, generally," he adds, with a near question mark at the end. If they just wanted him dead, it would be stressful, but probably would have come to fruition by now. Instead they just want him to go away.
[ Alistair laughs, briefly but without all the heaviness that's accompanied the sound of late—like there was a counterweight to any levity, trying to drag it back into his throat—and shakes his head. ]
They have terrible taste. Dandelions are adorable.
[ And so's Lucci. Any future bickering on the point aside, it is like watching after a puppy, only more clever and more likely to get Alistair murdered if he messes it up. He lets the baby wrestle with Doghren until she seems too excited and on the verge of turning nippy, briefly interferes, engages Lucci in a game of let's learn about object permanence by guessing what hand the pendant is in, and only almost loses him once. He makes it almost the full promised half hour—almost—before the baby is making fussy noises, on the verge of disaster, and Alistair is up with him in one arm, trying to discern the cause. Chewing on his hands meant he was hungry? Or teething. Or tired.
Maybe all three. ]
They have terrible taste. Dandelions are adorable.
[ And so's Lucci. Any future bickering on the point aside, it is like watching after a puppy, only more clever and more likely to get Alistair murdered if he messes it up. He lets the baby wrestle with Doghren until she seems too excited and on the verge of turning nippy, briefly interferes, engages Lucci in a game of let's learn about object permanence by guessing what hand the pendant is in, and only almost loses him once. He makes it almost the full promised half hour—almost—before the baby is making fussy noises, on the verge of disaster, and Alistair is up with him in one arm, trying to discern the cause. Chewing on his hands meant he was hungry? Or teething. Or tired.
Maybe all three. ]
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