[ Lucci, being asleep, doesn't respond. Alistair puts one (relatively massive) hand on his belly, as if to hold him in place, and shuts his eyes. He's an increasingly dead weight himself. ]
And he needs to stop drawing and get some rest while he can.
[ He is getting a great deal of practice with softness and curls in these sketches, in shadows and how they shape the line of hair and brow just so. But- he finishes quickly enough, sets the book aside. gives Doghren her customary space by his pillow and settles on his side, curling protectively around Lucci. ]
Good, [ Alistair says, vaguely—it isn't actually good, probably definitely not good for Zevran, but he can't stay here forever. He probably won't manage to sleep through Lucci crying. Maybe.
He takes his hand off the baby's chest to feel blindly for Zevran's face instead, eyes still shut, and clumsily pats his cheek—his forehead, first, and then his jaw, a new strip of leather and wooden beads around his wrist (courtesy of Sabine, don't ask, he'll be a dork) clacking a little in the process, but eventually his cheek. It's an I missed you pat. ]
Alistair- [ Muffled, faintly, by pillow and thumb- A man with large hands and an elf with a slim face? There will be mouth touching. Accidental mouth touching that usually would end in a nip or a lick or whatever would make Alistair screw his face up like a child and mumble about grossness-
And such reprisal is forthcoming save for the clatter of beads. ]
What is this on your wrist, mm?
[ It was not there when he'd left and Alistair is not one to create such things himself. ]
But Alistair cracks an eye open, just a bit, as if he has to check and see what Zevran is referring to, and sleepily drawls, very casually, as if he isn't blushing at all— ] Punishment for falling asleep on Sabine. [ Not really. Probably not really. He hasn't quizzed her about her intent. ] But the joke is on her. It makes me feel pretty.
[ He smushes Zevran's cheek up toward his eye. That's his punishment. ]
[ With as much feeling as he can muster while being half-dead. He lets go of Zevran's face to rescue his own from indignity. There's a difference between I missed you pats and aww pats. Aww pats get batted away. ]
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[ Lucci, being asleep, doesn't respond. Alistair puts one (relatively massive) hand on his belly, as if to hold him in place, and shuts his eyes. He's an increasingly dead weight himself. ]
And he needs to stop drawing and get some rest while he can.
no subject
[ He is getting a great deal of practice with softness and curls in these sketches, in shadows and how they shape the line of hair and brow just so. But- he finishes quickly enough, sets the book aside. gives Doghren her customary space by his pillow and settles on his side, curling protectively around Lucci. ]
He will wake in a few hours, you know.
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He takes his hand off the baby's chest to feel blindly for Zevran's face instead, eyes still shut, and clumsily pats his cheek—his forehead, first, and then his jaw, a new strip of leather and wooden beads around his wrist (courtesy of Sabine, don't ask, he'll be a dork) clacking a little in the process, but eventually his cheek. It's an I missed you pat. ]
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And such reprisal is forthcoming save for the clatter of beads. ]
What is this on your wrist, mm?
[ It was not there when he'd left and Alistair is not one to create such things himself. ]
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But Alistair cracks an eye open, just a bit, as if he has to check and see what Zevran is referring to, and sleepily drawls, very casually, as if he isn't blushing at all— ] Punishment for falling asleep on Sabine. [ Not really. Probably not really. He hasn't quizzed her about her intent. ] But the joke is on her. It makes me feel pretty.
[ He smushes Zevran's cheek up toward his eye. That's his punishment. ]
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The blushing, now- the falling asleep on her? THAT is something. Zevran snorts a soft laugh, reaching over to pat Alistair on the cheek. ]
You are the prettiest princess in Skyhold, this is true. So, tell me. Are you no longer wooless? Is there wooing going on behind my back?
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[ With as much feeling as he can muster while being half-dead. He lets go of Zevran's face to rescue his own from indignity. There's a difference between I missed you pats and aww pats. Aww pats get batted away. ]
We were only talking. Mainly about the weather.
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[ He manages a low, wry crackle of laughter, softly dropping his hand back down to rest against Lucci's curls. ]
No wonder you asked me for help ten years ago.
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[ Wooless. Honestly. ]
I'm falling asleep now, [ he announces, which isn't a lie. ]
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[ And more familiar, honestly. In the middle of all this- he needs the familiar.
Something about having Alistair around makes dozing with Lucci seem less strange, less stressful. ]