You know the rumored list of my lovers well enough- many of them? Are true. Look at that list and consider and tell me of one that might want more of me. I cannot think of a single one that would.
[ Mia has his heart- has shades of his heart. Has all that he can give and feel safe to offer; but she does not want him the way most do. Part of him aches for that completion, for being wanted body and soul. That thing he'd had and thrown away with Rinna.
He cannot think of a single person that knows him, that he trusts so deeply, that would want more of him. ]
Consider those names and consider yourself- were I to come to you before Nathaniel and express sentiment to you, that I wanted more than what we shared- would you have taken me seriously?
If you'd spoken of it, yes. I would have believed you. You'd only say that if you meant it, Zevran.
[And honestly? Despite how he's nearly certain it would have ended in utter disaster, he would have given it a shot.]
As far as those you've slept with go... Have there been any you've let in at all? Because I think that's what it would need, for you to be taken seriously. For them to know you've been hurt and you hide it with smiles and easy words.
[There's no judgment in his voice. What he's saying of Zevran applies to him as well. It's a needed shield, the act of seeming fine when everything is wrong.]
What of those who went to Antiva?
[They'd had more of a glimpse into Zevran's pain than he would ever willingly show, after all.]
Alistair does not care for the company of men, Araceli is happily with Korrin and a sister to me more than anything else, Beleth is a student of mine and that is a line I shall not cross, you have your Nathaniel, Fate has Nerva now that they've both gotten their heads out of their asses and settled together, Taashath is of the Qun and they do not complicate matters of desire and sex with sentiment- even if he did I think, perhaps, a safer match for him could be found in Cyril. They are terribly fond of one another as well and while I have no doubt they might both welcome me into their bed-
I've experience enough with such things to know better than to make it more than an occasional enjoyment. The Iron Bull likewise is of the Qun and there is some manner of complicated sentiment between him and Dorian. I know now how deep it goes on either end, but it runs deep. I have seen it before and know when to step aside.
[ Lovers he has let in? 'Put the Love in Lover' as Alistair said. ]
There may have been a moment with Isabela but she is not one to indulge in serious sentiment. That is not to be. Fenris has been hurt just as deeply as I by his own past and while we share each other's bed on occasion I do not think we are broken in ways that allow us to support one another. Pel and I have stopped sharing a bed in favor of friendship. It is the strangest thing.
Michel de Chevin is- well. Michel de Chevin. He is a Chevalier and while he makes for a fine diversion and has seen me at vulnerable moments- and I think perhaps he does want more- that is...something else I know well enough to avoid. It never ends well, elves and Human Nobles. Least of all between men. Especially when the noble is Orlesian.
[...Fate has Nerva? There's anger building in the back of his mind from Justice, that a templar who found it fine to hit a mage might also take up with another. There could never be true equality or trust there, and while Anders agrees with that thought... this is not the time. Justice must be still.]
Michel would never view you as an equal, and would never understand enough. Isabela... no. She is not one to want anything deeper. Taas seemed sweet, but if he's interested elsewhere...
[Anders shakes his head.]
What do you like, in the people you'd consider if they had no other attachments and were not...
There are moments when I wonder...it is probably the novelty of things, truly. [ He crackles a laugh, a little bitter, a lot weary as he sits on the bed, his fingers tangled in one another, his eyes on his hands. ] Giving power to the elf, letting me fuck him, giving me the authority in this- it is a game. I know that. I am not all that certain he does.
[ The heat in his eyes, how he begs so sweetly-
It is a game. An ache. There is nothing more there and even should there be? He cannot pursue it. If nothing else Alistair's scorn, Beleth's warning, Anders' hesitation, Sabine's impassioned cries against-
They give him pause. Judgement he does not care for but- it gives him pause. ]
We are speaking seriously, yes? So...let me speak seriously.
[ Especially since he is certain this shall not leave the room. ]
A lack of judgement. Soft and shapely women, broad and well muscled men. A sense of humor- were it not for Dorian? I might...I might pursue Bull in as much as I know how to do so. He understands me quite well. As it is they fit. I cannot stand in the way of such a thing...but that understanding. To be as broken as I am, perhaps. To not be would leave me feeling as though I cannot hope to measure up.
[Anders takes a seat shortly after Zevran does, close enough to the elf that he might lean if wanted, but not so close as to crowd. It hurts to hear that Zevran thinks he needs someone broken... but he gets it. They are the both of them what they are. And if he's to look past his own many, many levels of denial, Nate may be wrapped in affection for the Anders that was before and doesn't understand how broken Anders has been.
For a few moments he's quiet before breaking the small gap and laying a hand on Zevran's tangled ones.]
I don't have a name for you. There are... There are a fair share of those who have been broken here. But broken who also carry a sense of humor, to have built that shield back up, they're few and far in between. Those who do not judge? Even fewer.
And yet that does not mean there is not someone.
[He can think of a few who fit small portions of that, who are available, but none who fit the whole of it.]
There can be. There should be. And it is not wrong to want it. It truly is not. I'm willing to help, too. I can be the best wingman.
[There's the slightest trace of a smile returning to his eyes.]
I walk up, flirt with someone, then introduce myself, and you step in and ask if I'm bothering them. It'll work like a charm, and your reputation will become that of the elf who saved the lovely woman or the handsome man from the scheming and dangerous Anders.
[ He's more broken than all but a bare handful know. Anders has a fair idea of the more recent cracks- but they are shallow and thin compared to the deeper scars. Alistair knew. Mia. Pel. Bull divined some of it from how he behaved in the way that Ben Hassrath agents had. Leliana understood but that thread of comfort is cut.
He shouldn't need it.
He shouldn't want it. Why does it matter that anyone cares for more than a quick tumble? Why should he give this consideration, give this weight? He wants. And...he'll want again in the future, certainly. But the ache will dull and he'll be able to better mind the ending of the world easily enough.
Slowly he untangles his fingers enough to curl his hands around Anders', to squeeze them gently. ]
As I said. It will pass in time. [ The smile he offers is edged but turned inward, the only one cut by any of this? Is him. A familiar wound that barely stings at this point. ] But it s kind of you to offer, Gattino.
[He's quiet at the smile and squeeze. He knows deflection when he sees it because it's so much of what he does, and he's tempted to allow it. He likes to ease away from the darker matters; it's easier. Simpler.
And he's trying to be better, do better.]
It may. And if it does, it will return.
[He'd thought himself done with it after Karl, and then he'd fallen for Hawke, thought himself done with it when turned down, and now he's terrifyingly swept away by Nate.]
I will look, Zevran.
[Zevran had made him a promise he'd desperately needed, once. Anders will not leave the assassin hurting if he can help it.]
Men like me...we are not meant to have such things. [ The lie is weak on his tongue even now, and he knows it. An excuse, something he can tell himself to make the wanting of more seem like a foolish dream. That it is not possible, that it is not for him, that it is not what assassins do.
He wants and is now out of reasons not to want.
Perhaps someone might come along that can offer everything- but trust is not offered so easily.
Perhaps one day Alistair may very well roll over and choose to hop borders.
Perhaps he will die tomorrow and all of this is moot, who can say? ]
Why? Why, exactly, are you not meant to have someone who cares like that?
[He has a billion things to worry about. Survival. Vengeance. Nate. A future for the mages. The Calling. Corypheus. Healing. Purrelden. Darkspawn and bandits and people who punch him and it's still entirely possible he'll trip and fall on the way back to camp tonight and plummet off the wall. What's one more thing?]
Because I am an Assassin and that is a dangerous life. Because I am wanted by the Crows and anyone that cares for me is a target. Because I killed the last two people that laid claim to my heart. Because losing them killed me and I cannot endure such things again. Because-
Villains don't get happy endings, Anders.
[ And is he not the Crow's own villain? The shadow that haunted them, hunted them and many nobles of Antiva alike? ]
I am an abomination and an Warden. I'm wanted by people who have never before given a damn about mages or Templars or Kirkwall. I... I killed the last person I was in a relationship with. In the very Chantry I later destroyed.
No. We don't get happy endings. If I'm lucky, I'll reach my end alongside Nate, but it won't be a pretty one. We'll be in the dark, surrounded by darkspawn hordes, and one of us will fail and falter first, and the other will lose them.
[He has no illusions about reaching his end peacefully on a small farm near an ocean with a horde of cats. Wishes, yes. But wishes that will never be and he knows this full well.]
For now, though. For now, I have a little happiness. As has nearly every villain in all of history. I will be hated by future generations, but somehow one man manages to hold me in his heart, and I will take that. I see no reason for you not to.
[ The excuse falls flat. Sentiment. Sentiment everywhere and it is not for him. It has never BEEN for him and he'd taken what scraps of joy he could find in the past but there is not one person in Thedas that would know him, would have him-
and would want him for more than a night afterward. ]
There is nothing here for me to take. Nothing more I would dare. It will pass. This- this is enough.
[ Mia, his friends, the occasional lover. It must be enough. He can want with every fiber in him but he does not know how to hold such a thing- he's forgotten. ]
[He cannot heal everyone. He cannot save every person who deserves to be saved, or help every person who deserves to be helped. These are lessons life has driven into him over and over... and he has chosen to ignore. Healing in Darktown had been fighting a losing battle, just as much as running the underground there and trying to circumvent what was coming. Even being a Grey Warden is a losing battle, because even with just two archdemons left there's no telling what might come next. Corypheus and the Architect are proof enough of that.
Maker, being in Skyhold and trying to help, being who he is, is a losing battle. He's not backing down from that, and he's not backing down from this.
But he's also not going to push Zevran more tonight. Later. Once Anders has had a chance to consider people, to look around, then he'll bring it back up. With as much subtlety as a dragon in a henhouse. Anders sighs.]
It will pass for now.
[It sounds like he's agreeing. Zevran probably knows better, but Anders doesn't think he'll be pushed on it. Zevran wants the matter to rest. Time for an abrupt topic switch that's only mostly unrelated, because Anders thinks maybe Zevran is also missing Alistair somewhat.]
[ For a moment he's certain Anders will push as Alistair had on another matter. That he would snap, that they would fight, that he'd lose this comfortable understanding they shared. He's tense against Anders for that moment, waiting for the sign to sheathe his claws or to swipe.
The subject changes- not dropped, but changed- and he relaxes. Lists into Anders' side and lets his eyes drift half closed.
For now he does not need to think about it. And for that? He shall remain grateful. ]
When you have more than a camp to live in. As soon as we've building materials? The Kestrels and I are going to begin constructing a proper, heated house large enough for all of us. If we get a few runes we can even have heated baths and a private cistern for water.
[He shifts to put an arm around Zevran's waist to hold him loosely. The tension hadn't been noticeable until gone, but its new absence means he chose correctly. For once.]
By 'all of us' and that heated house, do you mean just the Kestrals and you? Or do Wardens who may have grown up somewhere far warmer get to share it? I double as a water-heater. Warden Water Heater was my official title at Vigil's Keep.
[ Yes, Jonas had written about that. Zevran had found it as hilarious as previously assumed. ]
All of us. The features that make the house heated and the baths worthwhile are impractical and do not work well in a building only large enough for the Kestrels. It would be large enough for me, them, and the Wardens in the valley. A true slice of Antiva in the mountains.
[Velanna would never talk about that. If she'd rolled her eyes any harder, the rest of them would have been on hands and knees searching for them.]
Oghren? Jonas? Certainly not Nate. Unless that came up somehow.
[He shouldn't hold dear the fact that before Justice he'd been someone people talked about in a positive way, he shouldn't miss that horribly, but he does. Finding out someone had spoken of that... He almost hopes that it wasn't Nate, that someone else had appreciated him enough for that. Once he'd been free and full of hope, and while that part of him is long gone, sometimes he feels its lack.
There's a little sadness to his smile, and he's glad that Zevran's leaning against him now, less able to see his expression.]
And I've never been to Antiva. I'll enjoy the little slice of it. There won't be anything Anders to the building, though, because that was a dry heat, far from a humic one.
Jonas when he wrote of you and his new band of misfits. We exchanged letters often those first few years.
[ He crackles a soft laugh, thinking back to how bizarre it'd been to get the royal seal and everything-
for sketches of a dance with stick figures and an underlined statement that 'you'd like him, Zev'. ]
He was sad I was not in the country as we would have gotten along. Told me I missed out on another round with a Broodmother and bone skeleton and whatnot. I am not entirely sad to have missed it myself- but perhaps meeting you sooner would have been worth it.
One day I shall take you- and it won't be awful. Show you the city I love.
[It would have been entertaining, that's for certain. But if they were friends here after meeting back then, he'd be left wondering what he is with Nate - if he's liked because of who he is now, or who he once was. It's all right that they've met now. That Zevran accepts him as he is.]
I'd like to see it. I'd like to see so much more of the world than I have. I could be the most-traveled mage in hundreds of years.
[He may already be, truth be told.]
To be surpassed by this next generation, I hope. I hope so much.
I must ask, though- because he did make sketches but Jonas, yes, he is no great artist. What does the spicy shimmy look like?
[ Lighter things, easier things. Zevran tips his face up to peer at Anders, all wide eyed innocence and curiosity. Truly it is his best impression of Merrill possible. ]
Would you show me?
[ The rest- the traveling, the hope, the seeing of Antiva- he can say nothing for or against it, only squeeze Ander's hand. It is good to hope, truly. ]
Are you sure it wouldn't be a disappointment after so many years of wondering? By now you've probably come up with far better versions of it than I could ever provide.
[It had been a goofy, in-the-moment invention made necessary by his need of deflection. He's fairly sure there had been waggled fingers and eyebrows. And some steps. And a little hum.
He may be stalling.]
I'm not even sure I remember...
[And yet Zevran looks so hopeful. At least he knows any laughter from the elf won't be mocking. Anders gets up with a sigh.]
I think it started like this.
[Plenty of waggling. Fingers, eyebrows, and hips. The man he was is mostly lost, but there are remnants.]
It has been so long since you last? A shame. We must give you reason to employ this stunning maneuver more often.
[ It isn't terribly sensual. It isn't terribly skilled- but it's hilarious. It's fun. And it is all too easy to imagine a younger man, a lighter man doing so.
Treating this with all due seriousness Zevran stands and mirrors Anders as best he can. Waggling eyebrows, fingers, rolling hips. ]
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[ Mia has his heart- has shades of his heart. Has all that he can give and feel safe to offer; but she does not want him the way most do. Part of him aches for that completion, for being wanted body and soul. That thing he'd had and thrown away with Rinna.
He cannot think of a single person that knows him, that he trusts so deeply, that would want more of him. ]
Consider those names and consider yourself- were I to come to you before Nathaniel and express sentiment to you, that I wanted more than what we shared- would you have taken me seriously?
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[And honestly? Despite how he's nearly certain it would have ended in utter disaster, he would have given it a shot.]
As far as those you've slept with go... Have there been any you've let in at all? Because I think that's what it would need, for you to be taken seriously. For them to know you've been hurt and you hide it with smiles and easy words.
[There's no judgment in his voice. What he's saying of Zevran applies to him as well. It's a needed shield, the act of seeming fine when everything is wrong.]
What of those who went to Antiva?
[They'd had more of a glimpse into Zevran's pain than he would ever willingly show, after all.]
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I've experience enough with such things to know better than to make it more than an occasional enjoyment. The Iron Bull likewise is of the Qun and there is some manner of complicated sentiment between him and Dorian. I know now how deep it goes on either end, but it runs deep. I have seen it before and know when to step aside.
[ Lovers he has let in? 'Put the Love in Lover' as Alistair said. ]
There may have been a moment with Isabela but she is not one to indulge in serious sentiment. That is not to be. Fenris has been hurt just as deeply as I by his own past and while we share each other's bed on occasion I do not think we are broken in ways that allow us to support one another. Pel and I have stopped sharing a bed in favor of friendship. It is the strangest thing.
Michel de Chevin is- well. Michel de Chevin. He is a Chevalier and while he makes for a fine diversion and has seen me at vulnerable moments- and I think perhaps he does want more- that is...something else I know well enough to avoid. It never ends well, elves and Human Nobles. Least of all between men. Especially when the noble is Orlesian.
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Michel would never view you as an equal, and would never understand enough. Isabela... no. She is not one to want anything deeper. Taas seemed sweet, but if he's interested elsewhere...
[Anders shakes his head.]
What do you like, in the people you'd consider if they had no other attachments and were not...
[Idiots.]
Chevalier?
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[ The heat in his eyes, how he begs so sweetly-
It is a game. An ache. There is nothing more there and even should there be? He cannot pursue it. If nothing else Alistair's scorn, Beleth's warning, Anders' hesitation, Sabine's impassioned cries against-
They give him pause. Judgement he does not care for but- it gives him pause. ]
We are speaking seriously, yes? So...let me speak seriously.
[ Especially since he is certain this shall not leave the room. ]
A lack of judgement. Soft and shapely women, broad and well muscled men. A sense of humor- were it not for Dorian? I might...I might pursue Bull in as much as I know how to do so. He understands me quite well. As it is they fit. I cannot stand in the way of such a thing...but that understanding. To be as broken as I am, perhaps. To not be would leave me feeling as though I cannot hope to measure up.
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For a few moments he's quiet before breaking the small gap and laying a hand on Zevran's tangled ones.]
I don't have a name for you. There are... There are a fair share of those who have been broken here. But broken who also carry a sense of humor, to have built that shield back up, they're few and far in between. Those who do not judge? Even fewer.
And yet that does not mean there is not someone.
[He can think of a few who fit small portions of that, who are available, but none who fit the whole of it.]
There can be. There should be. And it is not wrong to want it. It truly is not. I'm willing to help, too. I can be the best wingman.
[There's the slightest trace of a smile returning to his eyes.]
I walk up, flirt with someone, then introduce myself, and you step in and ask if I'm bothering them. It'll work like a charm, and your reputation will become that of the elf who saved the lovely woman or the handsome man from the scheming and dangerous Anders.
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He shouldn't need it.
He shouldn't want it. Why does it matter that anyone cares for more than a quick tumble? Why should he give this consideration, give this weight? He wants. And...he'll want again in the future, certainly. But the ache will dull and he'll be able to better mind the ending of the world easily enough.
Slowly he untangles his fingers enough to curl his hands around Anders', to squeeze them gently. ]
As I said. It will pass in time. [ The smile he offers is edged but turned inward, the only one cut by any of this? Is him. A familiar wound that barely stings at this point. ] But it s kind of you to offer, Gattino.
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And he's trying to be better, do better.]
It may. And if it does, it will return.
[He'd thought himself done with it after Karl, and then he'd fallen for Hawke, thought himself done with it when turned down, and now he's terrifyingly swept away by Nate.]
I will look, Zevran.
[Zevran had made him a promise he'd desperately needed, once. Anders will not leave the assassin hurting if he can help it.]
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Men like me...we are not meant to have such things. [ The lie is weak on his tongue even now, and he knows it. An excuse, something he can tell himself to make the wanting of more seem like a foolish dream. That it is not possible, that it is not for him, that it is not what assassins do.
He wants and is now out of reasons not to want.
Perhaps someone might come along that can offer everything- but trust is not offered so easily.
Perhaps one day Alistair may very well roll over and choose to hop borders.
Perhaps he will die tomorrow and all of this is moot, who can say? ]
You have other things to worry about, Anders.
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[He has a billion things to worry about. Survival. Vengeance. Nate. A future for the mages. The Calling. Corypheus. Healing. Purrelden. Darkspawn and bandits and people who punch him and it's still entirely possible he'll trip and fall on the way back to camp tonight and plummet off the wall. What's one more thing?]
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Villains don't get happy endings, Anders.
[ And is he not the Crow's own villain? The shadow that haunted them, hunted them and many nobles of Antiva alike? ]
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[Hypocrisy. A language Anders speaks well.]
I am an abomination and an Warden. I'm wanted by people who have never before given a damn about mages or Templars or Kirkwall. I... I killed the last person I was in a relationship with. In the very Chantry I later destroyed.
No. We don't get happy endings. If I'm lucky, I'll reach my end alongside Nate, but it won't be a pretty one. We'll be in the dark, surrounded by darkspawn hordes, and one of us will fail and falter first, and the other will lose them.
[He has no illusions about reaching his end peacefully on a small farm near an ocean with a horde of cats. Wishes, yes. But wishes that will never be and he knows this full well.]
For now, though. For now, I have a little happiness. As has nearly every villain in all of history. I will be hated by future generations, but somehow one man manages to hold me in his heart, and I will take that. I see no reason for you not to.
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[ The excuse falls flat. Sentiment. Sentiment everywhere and it is not for him. It has never BEEN for him and he'd taken what scraps of joy he could find in the past but there is not one person in Thedas that would know him, would have him-
and would want him for more than a night afterward. ]
There is nothing here for me to take. Nothing more I would dare. It will pass. This- this is enough.
[ Mia, his friends, the occasional lover. It must be enough. He can want with every fiber in him but he does not know how to hold such a thing- he's forgotten. ]
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Maker, being in Skyhold and trying to help, being who he is, is a losing battle. He's not backing down from that, and he's not backing down from this.
But he's also not going to push Zevran more tonight. Later. Once Anders has had a chance to consider people, to look around, then he'll bring it back up. With as much subtlety as a dragon in a henhouse. Anders sighs.]
It will pass for now.
[It sounds like he's agreeing. Zevran probably knows better, but Anders doesn't think he'll be pushed on it. Zevran wants the matter to rest. Time for an abrupt topic switch that's only mostly unrelated, because Anders thinks maybe Zevran is also missing Alistair somewhat.]
So when are you moving down to the Warden camp?
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The subject changes- not dropped, but changed- and he relaxes. Lists into Anders' side and lets his eyes drift half closed.
For now he does not need to think about it. And for that? He shall remain grateful. ]
When you have more than a camp to live in. As soon as we've building materials? The Kestrels and I are going to begin constructing a proper, heated house large enough for all of us. If we get a few runes we can even have heated baths and a private cistern for water.
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By 'all of us' and that heated house, do you mean just the Kestrals and you? Or do Wardens who may have grown up somewhere far warmer get to share it? I double as a water-heater. Warden Water Heater was my official title at Vigil's Keep.
Or Nuisance Warden. I forget which it was.
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[ Yes, Jonas had written about that. Zevran had found it as hilarious as previously assumed. ]
All of us. The features that make the house heated and the baths worthwhile are impractical and do not work well in a building only large enough for the Kestrels. It would be large enough for me, them, and the Wardens in the valley. A true slice of Antiva in the mountains.
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What... Who?
[Velanna would never talk about that. If she'd rolled her eyes any harder, the rest of them would have been on hands and knees searching for them.]
Oghren? Jonas? Certainly not Nate. Unless that came up somehow.
[He shouldn't hold dear the fact that before Justice he'd been someone people talked about in a positive way, he shouldn't miss that horribly, but he does. Finding out someone had spoken of that... He almost hopes that it wasn't Nate, that someone else had appreciated him enough for that. Once he'd been free and full of hope, and while that part of him is long gone, sometimes he feels its lack.
There's a little sadness to his smile, and he's glad that Zevran's leaning against him now, less able to see his expression.]
And I've never been to Antiva. I'll enjoy the little slice of it. There won't be anything Anders to the building, though, because that was a dry heat, far from a humic one.
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[ He crackles a soft laugh, thinking back to how bizarre it'd been to get the royal seal and everything-
for sketches of a dance with stick figures and an underlined statement that 'you'd like him, Zev'. ]
He was sad I was not in the country as we would have gotten along. Told me I missed out on another round with a Broodmother and bone skeleton and whatnot. I am not entirely sad to have missed it myself- but perhaps meeting you sooner would have been worth it.
One day I shall take you- and it won't be awful. Show you the city I love.
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[It would have been entertaining, that's for certain. But if they were friends here after meeting back then, he'd be left wondering what he is with Nate - if he's liked because of who he is now, or who he once was. It's all right that they've met now. That Zevran accepts him as he is.]
I'd like to see it. I'd like to see so much more of the world than I have. I could be the most-traveled mage in hundreds of years.
[He may already be, truth be told.]
To be surpassed by this next generation, I hope. I hope so much.
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[ Lighter things, easier things. Zevran tips his face up to peer at Anders, all wide eyed innocence and curiosity. Truly it is his best impression of Merrill possible. ]
Would you show me?
[ The rest- the traveling, the hope, the seeing of Antiva- he can say nothing for or against it, only squeeze Ander's hand. It is good to hope, truly. ]
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[It had been a goofy, in-the-moment invention made necessary by his need of deflection. He's fairly sure there had been waggled fingers and eyebrows. And some steps. And a little hum.
He may be stalling.]
I'm not even sure I remember...
[And yet Zevran looks so hopeful. At least he knows any laughter from the elf won't be mocking. Anders gets up with a sigh.]
I think it started like this.
[Plenty of waggling. Fingers, eyebrows, and hips. The man he was is mostly lost, but there are remnants.]
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[ It isn't terribly sensual. It isn't terribly skilled- but it's hilarious. It's fun. And it is all too easy to imagine a younger man, a lighter man doing so.
Treating this with all due seriousness Zevran stands and mirrors Anders as best he can. Waggling eyebrows, fingers, rolling hips. ]
Like this?
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[It's echoed so very dryly.]
That's certainly one word for it. And yes. That's it in its ridiculousness. Now you can tell me how disappointed you are.
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[ One last little wriggle, one last little shimmy of his shoulders before he tips over to fall against Anders with a laugh. ]
Not disappointed at all. Why would I be disappointed?
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