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Aww. That's sort of sweet, though, I think. I mean--doomed, for sure. But sweet.

And to be fair, nothing good ever seems to come from anything anymore. At all. Ever.

It'll get one of them killed and I am not going to clean it up.

[ He may or may not be muttering. ]

Nothing good comes from that sort of Sentiment, ever.

Sure you will. But I'll help. I'll bring a mop.

[ He pauses, because (1) the discussion about what happened last time Zevran had non-brotherly capital-F Feelings for anyone was recent enough that he isn't willing to make too light of things and (2) he doesn't want Zevran to crawl through the sending crystal and bite him or something, which at the moment seems like a reasonable fear. But he's very brave, so: ]

Well, I wouldn't really know. But I imagine something good does, sometimes, or people wouldn't keep doing it. Not elves and human nobles, maybe, but. Otherwise. There's companionship, and people to notice if you disappear, and maybe some little Zevrans.

No, no. If we clean up after their foolishness they will never learn better.

[ Now this was a turn he did not expect- if only because Alistair and he have an understanding about discussing serious things.

In that they don't.

It's a marvelous understanding. ]

I have you for all that save the making of little Zevrans. I do not need to make 'little zevrans'.

[ Drunk Zevran opened the door and now Sober Zevran has to deal with the consequences. ]

You don't need to. No one needs to. But it'd be really cute. Their little knives.

Were I to ever be overcome with some manner of madness and decide to start a family, I would not be giving my children knives. You are supposed to want them to have a better life than you did, yes?

[ He's quiet for a beat long enough to wonder where Morrigan is and if she's yet boiled and eaten the baby. ]

Toy ones. Wooden. Gifts from me, so you'd be heartless to throw them out.

And the rest of it--even if I'm around for a while, I'm not going to be around forever. And I need time to train my replacement.

Edited 2015-12-06 01:42 (UTC)

...I suppose I shall let them keep those. But this is still hypothetical and never going to happen.

[ Of course, then, he is cut to the quick with that reminder. ]

That is cheating, you bastard.

[ He laughs, because bastard. But only a little. ]

It's not cheating if it's true. Come on, Zev. I can't die properly if I'm worrying about you. I'll hang around too long and get all ghouly.

I am supposed to die first! We agreed. You are changing the terms of our agreement and I do not appreciate it.

Adequately crying and wailing at your funeral will be part of the training.

You are not going to give up on this foolishness, are you? I have my lovers, I have you, I have Isabella. What more do I need?

Me, but longer lived, and maybe with kissing.

Maybe I have another brother somewhere.

We've kissed.

More kissing. More tongue.

That is what my lovers are for, Alistair. Are you implying I should find someone I sleep with that I might also feel that sort of...sentiment for?

Yes. Put the love in lover, if you know what I mean.

I have no desire to go through that stupidity a second time. Once was enough.

It wasn't the feelings that made it go poorly last time, it was the Crows. And you're handling them.

And I will always be handling them. Or another House of Assassins. Sentiment means being made vulnerable by caring for someone. I am made vulnerable enough by my connection to you, I will not give the Crows or any one else undue leverage.

It is not something I need, Alistair.

You wouldn't be adding a new weakness, really. You'd be swapping me out for a new one.

Imagine my reluctance to give up one of the few certain, good things in my life for something I can neither trust nor hope to keep!

[ Is he snapping? He's snapping. He doesn't enjoy thinking of Alistair gone- he does not like the idea that anyone is so easily replaced- he does not like speaking of this in the slightest. ]

[ His chastised silence is of a respectful length, if barely. ]

I guess I am thinking more about what I want for you than what you want.

What I want is for you to not be dying.

[ Did his voice crack, raw and wretched around that last word? It did.

He is an assassin, he has no fear of death, no concern for his own- but that it would dare tread in the shadow of someone he has come to look to as family? It is too much. ]

I want the Crows dead, the Taint cured, the world to stop going mad for a decade or two and to retire to a lovely Rivaini beach for the rest of my days. But men such as you and I do not get what we want, Alistair.

We never have. We get what we take- and we are glad for it.

[ He cools his temper- takes a few deep, audible breaths. ]

Perhaps...if you were to explain why this was so important to you, I might consider it.

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