Curiosity itches under her skin, unexpected and prickling as she takes her cue and moves inside promptly, letting the door quietly clip shut behind her. Quite when Zevran converted his quarters to better resemble a wash house was beyond her, but apparently it had something to do with the mysterious Luciano. Not a kestral, mentally checks that one off, and within a couple of seconds her gaze falls on the child.
Eyebrows raising, mouth opening just slightly as she takes a step closer, silent, hands behind her back. Suffice to say, a number of things fall into place, and she almost chuckles. Almost.
"He is very beautiful." Leliana glances back to Zevran, curious. "And answers several of my questions." More significantly: "'Well' seems rather simplistic given the circumstances, Zevran."
"He takes after his mother." Though something in Zevran does puff up at the compliment. Pride for his child. A strange thing to be experiencing but- much of his life has been strange since the infant arrived. "No one else knows."
He's quick to say.
"Only you and Mia. I would wish to keep it that way- at least until I find somewhere safe for him." That isn't with Zevran, that much goes unsaid. This is a hold in the middle of a war. No place for a child. He is an assassin, a master of his own cell. He cannot do what needs to be done and raise a boy.
"Of course." There are few conclusions that she can reach that Zevran would not have already, of that much she is certain. He would well know the dangers, the risks. It is unnecessary to look and see if all blades and poisons are removed, because Zevran is meticulous, for all his appearance of artful sloth.
"If you find yourself in need of certain supplies, I can see it done with the utmost discretion." A flicker of her brow, though, as she looks at him, holding her silence for a long moment. "May I offer an opinion?"
"Mia does what she can to help but- I would be in your debt." They do what they can, trade off on who watches Lucci and who runs to get milk or cloth or a tub of fresh water for bathing. The Kestrels know something is afoot but not quite what; all others know that he has slipped away to handle a personal issue but he is safe and still within Skyhold.
Zevran resumes his wringing out of cloth prior to hanging, half a mind on the bed and half an eye on Leliana. She will not harm Luci, this much he knows. "...If you wish, yes."
"It is no trouble. Simply list what you require." Complex their dynamic may be, of late, but they are still-- he is still her brother.
"If your plan to secure his safety involves his absence from here, there are locations I might suggest. If it involves a permanent absence from you, I would protest. He should know his father, and you your son. I... regret that I have no knowledge of my own, and that my memories of mother are likely more a figment of my imagination than something more certain." Her gaze remains on Zevran as she speaks. She is not particularly trying to weigh his responses and what the shift of his muscles might tell her - he is more capable of masking than most, he is her friend, he is tired. All good reasons to leave it be.
"You should enjoy the happiness of family, I think." And there is something faintly amused in her tone, because of the degree of chaos that happiness brings inherently.
"A frost rune? He is teething." And his little gums ache- the first time he attempted to soak a bit of cloth in brandy and give that to him to suck Mia gave him such a look- apparently that is not how things are done in the South.
Probably for the best, really.
On the bed Luciano begins snuffling into wakefulness, squirming as Zevran sighs and sits on the bed, scooping him up to rest against his shoulder. At least now there is less fussing when he is held. "If there were a life for him in Antiva, he would remain with his mother. But she is marrying a Merchant Prince and Lucci is...a complication."
They both know how such things are handled in Antiva well enough. Before, the first time he spoke of it? Nothing more than a fact to tell Mia. Now? There is a tension in his shoulders at the idea of such harm coming to Lucci- at the idea of sending him away. It is not safe here but- he is no parent. "My father died before I was born- and my mother in childbirth. You know this."
Oldest tale in the book, that. He wanted...he had said, once, you are to want something better for your children. And here he sits. Wanting better. "If I can find nowhere for him, I may very well have to raise him here. It does occur to me that the few people I would trust with him are already all in the Inquisition."
Alistair, Leliana, Alejandro. "I would enjoy it more if he slept through the night and spat up less."
Frost rune, that should be managable. Perhaps some other supplies, so they are prepared in the long term. Leliana makes a mental note and nods.
Complications are dealt with brutally, this she knows. Leliana is thankful, at least, that her work has never suggested that the murder of children might be beneficial to her cause. If it did... she hopes there are lines she would not cross. Hopes, but feels less and less sure of, and wonders at times at who the person she sees in the mirror is. The Nightingale would not murder children - but perhaps the world cannot know that. The tension in her shoulders is different from that in Zevran's, but she understands it well.
"I know. And safe locations are different from those you trust," she agrees, brow furrowed. Her own home is one option she would consider - she has people there keeping an eye on things, and as safe as a villa on the Waking Sea might be when it is the home of the Nightingale and watched over, that did not replace the value of those you place your faith in.
And she smirks, just a little. "Perhaps Morrigan can offer you some guidance."
Little by little Luciano stops squirming, settled in close against Zevran's shoulder. For now the teeth do not seem to be bothering him and that? Is a boon. If they can go a few hours without crying or shrieking he'd be terribly pleased.
"Name the locations and I will consider them- when he's sleeping. Business is difficult to tend to when- ah!" Right. Hands. Little hands, grabbing and he should have pulled his hair back, but there it is. A little tan hand grabbing at his hair and tugging. Such a charming child. So. Wonderful. "When. He is awake and feeling playful."
Morrigan, now...
"I...do not know that we are speaking? I gave a gift and we spoke a little but with her I do not know where I stand. I only know slightly better where it is I might stand with you." Which is not all that much, but a little is better than nothing. "But enough of me- Lucci, mi caro, per favore, let go- ah."
Untangling a hand from his hair takes a little doing, but he manages it, Lucci instead holding to his fingers. "You wished to speak to me about something?"
One hand disappears to her pockets, hidden away, and draws out a length of string, and when Zevran has released his hair from Luciano's grip, she holds it up, stepping forward slightly - an offer to tie it back for him, since his hands are full.
"My home is the first to come to mind, but others will take more careful consideration. I will bring you a list with the rune." And, innocently, "Distracting? Your son?" Heaven forbid such an impossibility come to pass. It feels ever so slightly like justice. The Leliana of ten years ago might have been less subtle about it, just as she would have cooed and marvelled over a child rather more visibly. As it is, she is struggling not to make a fool of herself.
Ah. Well. "It seems rather less pressing, now." A beat. "Thank you for your assistance on the mission."
"What can I say, ah? My boy-" Ignore the way his throat goes tight around the words- something he has not thought, has not spoken often for the pure strangeness of it. "My boy demands attention."
He tips his head forward, offering Leliana leave to bind his hair far from squirming, grasping hands. But that she has moved close has drawn Lucci's attention, those wide blue eyes flitting to her face, her hood, her hair. A single chubby hand reaches out inquisitively while Zevran attempts to keep the boy from squirming too much.
"Such a thing could have been sent by note or said by crystals." He is not buying it, not even a little. "But you are welcome. It was good to see home again, stretch my legs. Do a little sneaking and be the Ombra Nera once more."
Leliana laughs, very quietly - more a breath than anything. "You're in considerable trouble, then.`'
Indulging the child, Leliana pulls off back her cowl, mouth quirking into a grin as his curiosity. "Hello, Luciano," she murmurs, tone brighter than it has been in years because children should not be treated to dark things, as she divides Zevrans hair into four segments, weaving them together into a braid. "Your daddy is silly, isn't he? Very silly." And she makes quick work of tying back the braid, so she can work the glove off one hand and crouch down next to Zevran.
Crouch down next to him and not look at him. "True enough. I wondered what you would advise in a situation when a scout has developed feelings of affection for one they work with - or believing they have, when there is every possibility they have not, and are entangling lust and wanting. Distorting them, I think."
The cowl slips off and those eyes widen further still, a pleased burble bubbling up from Luciano. High and bright and joyful. Perhaps Serena had the right of it, naming him light. Perhaps he should not find it quite so funny compared to his title. Zevran has his mouth open to protest being 'silly' when that word clicks like a knife on the rib.
'Daddy'. 'Father'. 'Son'. This is his blood, his boy, and he is...he cannot be worthy of what is supposed to come with it.
Somehow he swallows past that ache, the familiar knot of knowing he is not enough, and considers the situation offered while Luciano continues to strain and reach for Leliana. "You do realize who you are talking to, yes? I am not normally one someone goes to for advice on sentiment. But...one thing Senora Giselle taught me was this: If you can imagine whoever it is you think you lust after voluminously ill or covered in some manner of muck and still wish not only to kiss them, but to make them happy? It is sentiment."
"You are my friend," she replies, very quietly. "And I think you understand love better than you give yourself credit. I think you understand how well feelings can complicate work such as ours better than most."
Oh, Zevran has his friends he calls upon for certain closenesses, but for all his talk, he is not a loveless man, not a man with no capacity. He has not kept strict distances between himself and others in all ways, has not isolated himself, and he is a better man than he'd ever admit, she thinks.
"What if one of your kestrals claimed love for another? Not necessarily a kestral, but someone within the Inquisition, for example. Would you think of it so lightly?"
She speaks loosely, not quite easily, because she can still hold some thought that this is not completely transparent, as she leans closer to wiggle her fingers at Luciano. "War and risk, they all but breed sentiment. Not all of it is genuine."
"Conceptually, and I understand romance quite well as it would make a poor Antivan of me indeed to not." Love in truth, the romantic sort, the possessive sort- he'd known it once and it nearly killed him. He has scraps it of now he clings to with terrified hands.
Hands that attempt to steady the sudden lean of Luciano to grasp for Leliana's fingers, a child's laugh twisting a fond smile out of Zevran.
"...The timing of this conversation is suspect. Have you spoken to, say, Alistair or Anders in the past few weeks? This is not the precise situation I have been wrestling with myself, but the themes are similar." Perhaps she'd listened in. "Let me ask you this, then. Do you see the closeness of Alistair and I, for example, to be less sincere for where it was born?"
"Perhaps I am all the more Fereldan for my lack of comprehension," she replies, rather dryly. Love had not treated her kindly, in the past. That had not been love, she later realised, at least not from both sides. And if it had been, then it was a noxious warping of it. Marjolaine may have loved her, once, but she had always been a possession.
She makes a sound of exaggerated surprise, a gasp. "You got me," she informs Luciano, as if entirely scandalised, making a terribly poor effort to free herself from his terrible grasp. Alas, her ability to escape has suddenly wilted to nothing, it would seem.
It is easier to play with the child than to look at Zevran, but she manages it. "Definitely not, but..." Leliana stops herself short. To say that romantic love could be more destructive than friendship and other loves was to lie, outright. They had all of them felt the sting of deceits, of Wynne's death, of Jonas' decisions. Happy to cease upon a change of subject: "Why suspect?"
"It is Fereldens that have lectured me most on love. My lack of practical understanding comes from the Crows." Even in the brothel, the women taught him to be careful, yes, but they cared. It is more than he could have hoped for alone on the streets.
A moment is lost, admiring his boy laughing so brightly, squeezing Leliana's fingers like a grand prize. No attempt to gnaw just yet- but that is inevitably where her fingertips will go if she is not careful. Zevran is instead struck by how like her old self Leliana sounds. The change is startling, and one he wishes to encourage while being far too tired to think of how.
"It has been on my mind as of late. Sentiment. Love. Wanting more than a friend that I bed on occasion- I have nudged a few of m friends into the willing arms of those that care for them and have felt myself quite satisfied to see the results. Ten years ago I would have done the same and been content. Now...now I see them and I want something of that for myself. Alistair is determined to find me someone before he dies." So bluntly said- that. But they know what it is to hear the calling. They know how little time he might have left.
"We do that," she admits. Few know it, these days, but she has long considered herself more Fereldan than Orlesian. Now she hardly knows what she is. The fate of Thedas comes before the fate of any one country. "Although I suspect lecturing people is not a purely Fereldan past time. What do you think, Luciano? It's not Fereldan at all, is it?"
Her free hand sneaks though the air, fingers waving animatedly, a rival for his attention. Hopefully Zevran will never tell anyone about this. Ever.
"I imagine Alistair playing suitor comes with a number of requirements for any candidate," she replies, eyebrow quirking a little. There a pause before she continues. "You should. Love is the greatest gift that there is, Zevran. If the Maker has shown me anything at all, it is that love is the most powerful force, and the most precious." She believes that still, even with what she has made herself become, how the world has twisted. The Calling pulls at Alistair, and she doesn't really want to touch on the possibility of his impending death. "Do you have doubts?"
"It is a part of your charm." Fereldan charm- Leliana's charm. The two are not quite so interchangeable but he is not about to say which he means, not just yet.
Lucci squeals and reaches with his other hand, flailing fat little fingers to try and grasp those sneaking ones. Oh if only Zevran had time to paint. But he could sketch- and he would. Let Leliana see herself with his boy. Let his boy see the Aunt that struggles as much as his father.
"He is very protective of me. You should have seen the scowls he gave Michel de Chevin when we were still entangled." Past tense. No longer entangled. Alistair's disapproval can be a palpable thing after all. "I know what I want. I know...I am allowed to want such a thing. The uncertainty remains in whether or not I deserve it- or if I am able to keep it. But if it is so worthy a thing, if it is such a gift- why do you have doubts about your scouts? Are they so unable to tell sentiment from sensual indulgence?"
Ha. That gets him a look, not so terribly severe as she tends to be these days.
For a moment she manages to evade, and evade again, before-- alas. She is caught. That's it, sorry Zevran, she can never leave.
A little frown, at that. She cannot say much for the character of Michel de Chevin, though she has heard enough about Chevaliers. Like her he followed orders, but something vile twisted in her at the thought of Halamshiral. She had pitied Celene that decision, that Justinia's orders pushed her hand... and yet. Her feelings on the matter and the man are complex, and she would be hard pressed to summarise it. "Ah. Yes, I can imagine they were... expressive."
She exhales, hands stilling a moment from the game she has been providing Luciano in their odd hand wrestle. "People do not deserve love, just as they do not deserve forgiveness. It is given or it is not. Deserving... no, that is not a factor." But she does sigh. "Just because I think it is a wonderful thing does not mean that it is not dangerous. I cannot know their hearts or their intentions. I would not stand between my scouts and love, I--"
This lie is getting difficult to talk around without sounding out of her wits, but at least she is not entirely without reason for some caution on behalf of her scouts. "How many have been seduced or charmed for information? How many have lost their lives for such mistakes. They know to watch for seduction, but love? That is far more dangerous."
"Would stand between yourself and love. Out of duty and obligation to the Inquisition." Dancing about the matter is well and good but this is less about scouts- that too is a conversation to be had over crystals. And this is something he has knotted himself up over as well for so many reasons- one of which is now giggling brightly and attempting to heave himself from Zevran's arms into Leliana's.
Curious child.
"It can be lethal. The having it. The loss of it." Zevran reaches to smooth back some of Lucci's bouncing curls, eyes on the infant rather than Leliana. "I had it, once. Before the Blight, while I was a member of the Crows. It was losing it that had me put myself before Jonas' blade and hope for death- in doing so I found another opportunity for life. It is not always the way of things, luck and compassion and desperation saved me more than anything else. But is there nothing sweeter than to die from love?"
It was pleasanter when he did not address it directly.
"We have both of us been spurned. Marjolaine left me to be tortured. Intimacy allowed her to condemn me. It allowed her to steal secrets that might have started another war between Orlais and Ferelden, it allowed her knowledge that she shared with the Empress Celene that might have compromised the Divine's peace, had she applied it so." Leliana's voice is harsher now, quiet and lacking heat because of the child, but even so. "I will not endanger the Inquisition or my mission due to some fleeting whimsy. My duty will ensure the freedom of others to live and love as they wish. I cannot squander that through death."
This is a terrible conversation to be having while wrangling a delighted infant, and she shakes her head. "I cannot take that risk."
"I am to understand that for love to be honest, for it to be equal and true- there is to be trust." And there lies the trouble for both of them. Trust is not given so easily- it is not given at all by an assassin, by a spy. Tired of the juggling act Zevran simply chooses to express some of what trust he has for Leliana- and presses Lucci from his arms into hers.
He does not let go, not just yet- but he holds Lucci there long enough for her to take hold.
"If you cannot trust the one you love, then it is not a love that is worth the risk. If it cannot be honest, cannot be equal...then it cannot be." And it would not be worth the risk. "Do you trust them?"
"Trust." An echo, and she is displeased with how it lacks incredulity when she says it. "Trust is inherent," she agrees, quietly. Trust is what made it so terribly dangerous, regardless of what profession one fell into. It was what made it difficult, presumably, when secrets came to Leliana as easily as breathing and she struggled against them in others, determined to shine the light on them and expose whatever horrors people tried to keep concealed.
"I don't know." Accepting Luciano into her arms, Leliana adjusts her hold so she can cradle him idly swaying him as she eases up to stand and sit beside Zevran. "I suppose that is answer enough."
She does not know if she trusts Morrigan, exactly, or if she trusts her own trust, if that trust which does exist is somehow warped by being enamoured. The thing is that she wants to, and that is terrifying. "And you? Do you trust anyone in such a way?"
"Do you wish there to be trust?" Wanting it comes before feeling it- this he has learned. It is no small thing to let Leliana hold his child and he hopes to offer in action what he cannot quite say so neatly in words. This tiny, precious thing that he does not know how to handle- he will trust her to hold him. Trust her to know and keep the secret until he has a better plan than 'get through to tomorrow'.
Lucci coos, hands finding the folds of her hood, tugging gently on the fabric. It's new and that makes it amazing.
"In a way that is open and honest and equal with this manner of sentiment? I...trust two. And am yet working out how it is I might live with that- or if it is enough." It is different from Taliesin and Rinna and that is strange in its own way. "Mia I have come to trust like that. It is...she feels sentiment without desire, but the trust is there. That is enough. Taashath feels both but he is of the Qun and holds no claim over me."
"I don't know," she says again, with no heat in it, for all that she is frustrated by her own lack of knowledge. "I have eyes and ears all over Thedas, and I cannot determine my own intentions or wants. It is pathetic, no?"
But then there is this tiny, fragile thing in her arms, and she marvels at it. To think that they all joined the world in such a way, that once she and Zevran were so tiny and unprotected, and someone had loved them well enough to keep them alive. The terrors came later, but first they had been loved, and they had trusted. Holding him in one arm, she disentangles her free hand from his grasp to tilts the shiny broach at her chest so it catches the light and grabs at his attention, maybe, though she looks to Zevran as she listens.
"Do you feel Mia does have some claim over you?" And, after a moment of considation, she angles her head. "It would be foolish to suggest you find love with both of them together, I assume."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
would playing zev make you a saucerer?
Eyebrows raising, mouth opening just slightly as she takes a step closer, silent, hands behind her back. Suffice to say, a number of things fall into place, and she almost chuckles. Almost.
"He is very beautiful." Leliana glances back to Zevran, curious. "And answers several of my questions." More significantly: "'Well' seems rather simplistic given the circumstances, Zevran."
A saucier, even!
He's quick to say.
"Only you and Mia. I would wish to keep it that way- at least until I find somewhere safe for him." That isn't with Zevran, that much goes unsaid. This is a hold in the middle of a war. No place for a child. He is an assassin, a master of his own cell. He cannot do what needs to be done and raise a boy.
scandalicious
"If you find yourself in need of certain supplies, I can see it done with the utmost discretion." A flicker of her brow, though, as she looks at him, holding her silence for a long moment. "May I offer an opinion?"
i no rite?
Zevran resumes his wringing out of cloth prior to hanging, half a mind on the bed and half an eye on Leliana. She will not harm Luci, this much he knows. "...If you wish, yes."
no subject
"If your plan to secure his safety involves his absence from here, there are locations I might suggest. If it involves a permanent absence from you, I would protest. He should know his father, and you your son. I... regret that I have no knowledge of my own, and that my memories of mother are likely more a figment of my imagination than something more certain." Her gaze remains on Zevran as she speaks. She is not particularly trying to weigh his responses and what the shift of his muscles might tell her - he is more capable of masking than most, he is her friend, he is tired. All good reasons to leave it be.
"You should enjoy the happiness of family, I think." And there is something faintly amused in her tone, because of the degree of chaos that happiness brings inherently.
no subject
Probably for the best, really.
On the bed Luciano begins snuffling into wakefulness, squirming as Zevran sighs and sits on the bed, scooping him up to rest against his shoulder. At least now there is less fussing when he is held. "If there were a life for him in Antiva, he would remain with his mother. But she is marrying a Merchant Prince and Lucci is...a complication."
They both know how such things are handled in Antiva well enough. Before, the first time he spoke of it? Nothing more than a fact to tell Mia. Now? There is a tension in his shoulders at the idea of such harm coming to Lucci- at the idea of sending him away. It is not safe here but- he is no parent. "My father died before I was born- and my mother in childbirth. You know this."
Oldest tale in the book, that. He wanted...he had said, once, you are to want something better for your children. And here he sits. Wanting better. "If I can find nowhere for him, I may very well have to raise him here. It does occur to me that the few people I would trust with him are already all in the Inquisition."
Alistair, Leliana, Alejandro. "I would enjoy it more if he slept through the night and spat up less."
no subject
Complications are dealt with brutally, this she knows. Leliana is thankful, at least, that her work has never suggested that the murder of children might be beneficial to her cause. If it did... she hopes there are lines she would not cross. Hopes, but feels less and less sure of, and wonders at times at who the person she sees in the mirror is. The Nightingale would not murder children - but perhaps the world cannot know that. The tension in her shoulders is different from that in Zevran's, but she understands it well.
"I know. And safe locations are different from those you trust," she agrees, brow furrowed. Her own home is one option she would consider - she has people there keeping an eye on things, and as safe as a villa on the Waking Sea might be when it is the home of the Nightingale and watched over, that did not replace the value of those you place your faith in.
And she smirks, just a little. "Perhaps Morrigan can offer you some guidance."
no subject
"Name the locations and I will consider them- when he's sleeping. Business is difficult to tend to when- ah!" Right. Hands. Little hands, grabbing and he should have pulled his hair back, but there it is. A little tan hand grabbing at his hair and tugging. Such a charming child. So. Wonderful. "When. He is awake and feeling playful."
Morrigan, now...
"I...do not know that we are speaking? I gave a gift and we spoke a little but with her I do not know where I stand. I only know slightly better where it is I might stand with you." Which is not all that much, but a little is better than nothing. "But enough of me- Lucci, mi caro, per favore, let go- ah."
Untangling a hand from his hair takes a little doing, but he manages it, Lucci instead holding to his fingers. "You wished to speak to me about something?"
no subject
"My home is the first to come to mind, but others will take more careful consideration. I will bring you a list with the rune." And, innocently, "Distracting? Your son?" Heaven forbid such an impossibility come to pass. It feels ever so slightly like justice. The Leliana of ten years ago might have been less subtle about it, just as she would have cooed and marvelled over a child rather more visibly. As it is, she is struggling not to make a fool of herself.
Ah. Well. "It seems rather less pressing, now." A beat. "Thank you for your assistance on the mission."
That is not why she came here, but fine.
no subject
He tips his head forward, offering Leliana leave to bind his hair far from squirming, grasping hands. But that she has moved close has drawn Lucci's attention, those wide blue eyes flitting to her face, her hood, her hair. A single chubby hand reaches out inquisitively while Zevran attempts to keep the boy from squirming too much.
"Such a thing could have been sent by note or said by crystals." He is not buying it, not even a little. "But you are welcome. It was good to see home again, stretch my legs. Do a little sneaking and be the Ombra Nera once more."
no subject
Indulging the child, Leliana pulls off back her cowl, mouth quirking into a grin as his curiosity. "Hello, Luciano," she murmurs, tone brighter than it has been in years because children should not be treated to dark things, as she divides Zevrans hair into four segments, weaving them together into a braid. "Your daddy is silly, isn't he? Very silly." And she makes quick work of tying back the braid, so she can work the glove off one hand and crouch down next to Zevran.
Crouch down next to him and not look at him. "True enough. I wondered what you would advise in a situation when a scout has developed feelings of affection for one they work with - or believing they have, when there is every possibility they have not, and are entangling lust and wanting. Distorting them, I think."
Also a lie, but also not.
no subject
The cowl slips off and those eyes widen further still, a pleased burble bubbling up from Luciano. High and bright and joyful. Perhaps Serena had the right of it, naming him light. Perhaps he should not find it quite so funny compared to his title. Zevran has his mouth open to protest being 'silly' when that word clicks like a knife on the rib.
'Daddy'. 'Father'. 'Son'. This is his blood, his boy, and he is...he cannot be worthy of what is supposed to come with it.
Somehow he swallows past that ache, the familiar knot of knowing he is not enough, and considers the situation offered while Luciano continues to strain and reach for Leliana. "You do realize who you are talking to, yes? I am not normally one someone goes to for advice on sentiment. But...one thing Senora Giselle taught me was this: If you can imagine whoever it is you think you lust after voluminously ill or covered in some manner of muck and still wish not only to kiss them, but to make them happy? It is sentiment."
no subject
Oh, Zevran has his friends he calls upon for certain closenesses, but for all his talk, he is not a loveless man, not a man with no capacity. He has not kept strict distances between himself and others in all ways, has not isolated himself, and he is a better man than he'd ever admit, she thinks.
"What if one of your kestrals claimed love for another? Not necessarily a kestral, but someone within the Inquisition, for example. Would you think of it so lightly?"
She speaks loosely, not quite easily, because she can still hold some thought that this is not completely transparent, as she leans closer to wiggle her fingers at Luciano. "War and risk, they all but breed sentiment. Not all of it is genuine."
no subject
Hands that attempt to steady the sudden lean of Luciano to grasp for Leliana's fingers, a child's laugh twisting a fond smile out of Zevran.
"...The timing of this conversation is suspect. Have you spoken to, say, Alistair or Anders in the past few weeks? This is not the precise situation I have been wrestling with myself, but the themes are similar." Perhaps she'd listened in. "Let me ask you this, then. Do you see the closeness of Alistair and I, for example, to be less sincere for where it was born?"
no subject
She makes a sound of exaggerated surprise, a gasp. "You got me," she informs Luciano, as if entirely scandalised, making a terribly poor effort to free herself from his terrible grasp. Alas, her ability to escape has suddenly wilted to nothing, it would seem.
It is easier to play with the child than to look at Zevran, but she manages it. "Definitely not, but..." Leliana stops herself short. To say that romantic love could be more destructive than friendship and other loves was to lie, outright. They had all of them felt the sting of deceits, of Wynne's death, of Jonas' decisions. Happy to cease upon a change of subject: "Why suspect?"
no subject
A moment is lost, admiring his boy laughing so brightly, squeezing Leliana's fingers like a grand prize. No attempt to gnaw just yet- but that is inevitably where her fingertips will go if she is not careful. Zevran is instead struck by how like her old self Leliana sounds. The change is startling, and one he wishes to encourage while being far too tired to think of how.
"It has been on my mind as of late. Sentiment. Love. Wanting more than a friend that I bed on occasion- I have nudged a few of m friends into the willing arms of those that care for them and have felt myself quite satisfied to see the results. Ten years ago I would have done the same and been content. Now...now I see them and I want something of that for myself. Alistair is determined to find me someone before he dies." So bluntly said- that. But they know what it is to hear the calling. They know how little time he might have left.
no subject
Her free hand sneaks though the air, fingers waving animatedly, a rival for his attention. Hopefully Zevran will never tell anyone about this. Ever.
"I imagine Alistair playing suitor comes with a number of requirements for any candidate," she replies, eyebrow quirking a little. There a pause before she continues. "You should. Love is the greatest gift that there is, Zevran. If the Maker has shown me anything at all, it is that love is the most powerful force, and the most precious." She believes that still, even with what she has made herself become, how the world has twisted. The Calling pulls at Alistair, and she doesn't really want to touch on the possibility of his impending death. "Do you have doubts?"
no subject
Lucci squeals and reaches with his other hand, flailing fat little fingers to try and grasp those sneaking ones. Oh if only Zevran had time to paint. But he could sketch- and he would. Let Leliana see herself with his boy. Let his boy see the Aunt that struggles as much as his father.
"He is very protective of me. You should have seen the scowls he gave Michel de Chevin when we were still entangled." Past tense. No longer entangled. Alistair's disapproval can be a palpable thing after all. "I know what I want. I know...I am allowed to want such a thing. The uncertainty remains in whether or not I deserve it- or if I am able to keep it. But if it is so worthy a thing, if it is such a gift- why do you have doubts about your scouts? Are they so unable to tell sentiment from sensual indulgence?"
no subject
For a moment she manages to evade, and evade again, before-- alas. She is caught. That's it, sorry Zevran, she can never leave.
A little frown, at that. She cannot say much for the character of Michel de Chevin, though she has heard enough about Chevaliers. Like her he followed orders, but something vile twisted in her at the thought of Halamshiral. She had pitied Celene that decision, that Justinia's orders pushed her hand... and yet. Her feelings on the matter and the man are complex, and she would be hard pressed to summarise it. "Ah. Yes, I can imagine they were... expressive."
She exhales, hands stilling a moment from the game she has been providing Luciano in their odd hand wrestle. "People do not deserve love, just as they do not deserve forgiveness. It is given or it is not. Deserving... no, that is not a factor." But she does sigh. "Just because I think it is a wonderful thing does not mean that it is not dangerous. I cannot know their hearts or their intentions. I would not stand between my scouts and love, I--"
This lie is getting difficult to talk around without sounding out of her wits, but at least she is not entirely without reason for some caution on behalf of her scouts. "How many have been seduced or charmed for information? How many have lost their lives for such mistakes. They know to watch for seduction, but love? That is far more dangerous."
no subject
Curious child.
"It can be lethal. The having it. The loss of it." Zevran reaches to smooth back some of Lucci's bouncing curls, eyes on the infant rather than Leliana. "I had it, once. Before the Blight, while I was a member of the Crows. It was losing it that had me put myself before Jonas' blade and hope for death- in doing so I found another opportunity for life. It is not always the way of things, luck and compassion and desperation saved me more than anything else. But is there nothing sweeter than to die from love?"
no subject
"We have both of us been spurned. Marjolaine left me to be tortured. Intimacy allowed her to condemn me. It allowed her to steal secrets that might have started another war between Orlais and Ferelden, it allowed her knowledge that she shared with the Empress Celene that might have compromised the Divine's peace, had she applied it so." Leliana's voice is harsher now, quiet and lacking heat because of the child, but even so. "I will not endanger the Inquisition or my mission due to some fleeting whimsy. My duty will ensure the freedom of others to live and love as they wish. I cannot squander that through death."
This is a terrible conversation to be having while wrangling a delighted infant, and she shakes her head. "I cannot take that risk."
no subject
He does not let go, not just yet- but he holds Lucci there long enough for her to take hold.
"If you cannot trust the one you love, then it is not a love that is worth the risk. If it cannot be honest, cannot be equal...then it cannot be." And it would not be worth the risk. "Do you trust them?"
no subject
"I don't know." Accepting Luciano into her arms, Leliana adjusts her hold so she can cradle him idly swaying him as she eases up to stand and sit beside Zevran. "I suppose that is answer enough."
She does not know if she trusts Morrigan, exactly, or if she trusts her own trust, if that trust which does exist is somehow warped by being enamoured. The thing is that she wants to, and that is terrifying. "And you? Do you trust anyone in such a way?"
no subject
Lucci coos, hands finding the folds of her hood, tugging gently on the fabric. It's new and that makes it amazing.
"In a way that is open and honest and equal with this manner of sentiment? I...trust two. And am yet working out how it is I might live with that- or if it is enough." It is different from Taliesin and Rinna and that is strange in its own way. "Mia I have come to trust like that. It is...she feels sentiment without desire, but the trust is there. That is enough. Taashath feels both but he is of the Qun and holds no claim over me."
no subject
But then there is this tiny, fragile thing in her arms, and she marvels at it. To think that they all joined the world in such a way, that once she and Zevran were so tiny and unprotected, and someone had loved them well enough to keep them alive. The terrors came later, but first they had been loved, and they had trusted. Holding him in one arm, she disentangles her free hand from his grasp to tilts the shiny broach at her chest so it catches the light and grabs at his attention, maybe, though she looks to Zevran as she listens.
"Do you feel Mia does have some claim over you?" And, after a moment of considation, she angles her head. "It would be foolish to suggest you find love with both of them together, I assume."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)