[ Like magic. Or like Zevran being a good father. There's a very brief and very faint pang of something—brief and faint because Alistair never really wanted children, and has one anyway, and isn't actually all that sorry that he never saw Kieran as an infant. He's more fun now. But this is sweet. ]
His baptism will be in a week or so. You are going to be his Padrino. Should anything happen to me? You are to raise him. Leliana will help.
[ She? He asked. Alistair? Is bluntly informed as he settles back on the bed, infant tucked up against his shoulder. The moments of peace and quiet do not last. ]
[ Still going to die in ten years, in all likelihood. But Zevran knows that. And he know Alistair is as bad an Andrastian as they come while still technically being one, and he knows he doesn't know the first thing about small children, and Alistair decides to take it the way it's probably meant. An honor. If something happens to Zevran before something happens to Alistair, they'll figure out what to do about the rest of it after they stop weeping. ]
Maybe Leliana will be speaking to me again by then, [ he says instead. A joke. There won't be a then. Nothing is happening to Zev. ] Thank you.
[ He lifts a hand from where he's combing Lucci's curls out of his face, wiggling his fingers. ]
Let me show you how to hold him. Mia showed me. [ And it was less a moment of pride then than it was pure terror but seeing the same on Alistair's face? Would be worth it. ]
[ Simple. Surely. Alistair comes as called, though, and settles next to Zevran. He feels twice as awkwardly enormous and clumsy as usual, with an itty bitty elf baby as a comparison point, but he'll do as he's told. ]
You have to support his neck. [ Which makes sense, Zevran knows how fragile a neck can be, how simple it is to break one- to have a head too much for one to support seems baffling but- he is learning. He carefully moves Lucci to Alistair's arms, positioning his hands much in the way Mia had done for him. ]
[ Alistair manages--not because he's a natural, by any means, but because Lucci is very small and his arms are very large and the kid's capable of holding his head up instead of flopping like a newborn, so there's room for some fumbling without anyone dying, and he's been crawled on by enough children in Random Villages 1 through 50 that he doesn't make it worse by being terrified.
But his face does go sort of goopy, for a moment, once Lucci's settled in a way that feels sort of easy. ]
I did not pop out of the ground fully formed and primed for murder, Alistair. [ He snorts a soft laugh- reaching to snag one of his sketchbooks. It does not take long for him to find the right angle and shapes, slowly drawing the image before him. ] He seems so much smaller in your hands.
I know that, but he's so little. [ Alistair glances up, at the sketchbook and then at Zevran, eyebrow briefly cocking with the same exasperation teenagers may feel in six hundred years when Thedas develops photography and their mums won't stop taking pictures, but the moment passes without comment. ] Are you doing all right?
I am short for my age, what can I say? And Serena is likewise a petite woman. [ All leg, though, long, lovely legs he will recall with great affection in the years to come. ] Absolutely not. I have no idea what I am doing, I am not fit to be a father yet there are no others that can mind him for me, I did not count on this when I chose to spend the night with her and I cannot very well turn him away. The Crows still want me dead, the world is falling down around our ears and-
He needs so much that I do not know how to give. So...no. No I am not all right, Alistair. But I am making do.
[ Alistair makes a face at the baby--a goofy one, tired eyes crossed and tongue briefly flopping out--who is only forgiven for causing Zevran so much stress because he's tiny and adorable and not actually at fault. ]
You're as fit as anyone I know, and you aren't alone. But you do have to let him rest sometimes, [ he says, now to Lucci, ] or you and me will have a problem.
I considered writing the Madame that raised me before the Crows- but it would not be safe for her to know. [ That is what it boils down to, ultimately. Is it safe for them to know? Most often the answer is no. ]
When his teeth have finished growing in it should pain him less and he should sleep more. Or. So I have been told.
[ Effective, but maybe too much for such a tiny boy. They wouldn't want him going loopy. Diluted in a paste for his gums, maybe—Alistair isn't a herbalist. But maybe he'll ask someone who is. For the moment he sets it aside, eyeing Lucci and his chilled cloth with the terrifying, immediate fondness that only babies with their enormous harmless helpless eyes could inspire so quickly.
He lists to one side, while he's watching, unless his shoulder is against the bed's headboard. Then his head. He won't fall asleep and drop the baby, though, he's fine. ]
I could take Doghren to camp so you're not worrying about her, too. She'll be all right if she sleeps with me.
I was going to give him brandy as is customary in Antiva, but the face Mia made.
[ It was a frightening face- not at all like this soft, warm affection present on Alistair's. Lucci seems to have worn himself out somewhat, suckling on that chilled rag lulling him into a drifting sort of slumber. Soon enough he would be a warm, dead weight in Alistair's arms.
And Zevran might manage a half hour or so of sleep. ]
During the day. At night I can keep an eye on her. Bethany has one of her litter mates out there and it hasn't died yet.
[ A glowing report. He won't say that he'll carry her in his shirt front if necessary and let her sleep on his chest, because he is still standing by the principle that dogs belong outside and on the floor no matter how much he loves them, but he totally will, if it gets Zevran a little more sleep and cuts out the need to take her outside every few hours.
Lucci is very still. Alistair frees a hand to touch his nose tip—an insatiable hey pay attention to me impulse—but, receiving no response, doesn't bother him further. ]
If you do not let her sleep in your tent with you she will whimper and whine and that will be your problem. Perhaps...every few days or so? Lucci has become accustomed to her.
[ He has lost his mother in this- Zevran is loathe to take what few moments of comfort and familiarity that the boy has managed to find here away. ]
Alistair... [ A low word of warning, his eyes on that finger. ] With all due affection and respect- if you wake the baby? I will cut off your hand.
It is better than what I said I would do if Alejo woke him again.
[ That had been a rather...graphic and angry threat, one he as still somewhat proud of considering how little sleep he'd been going off of at the time. ]
Thank you. I am certain it will be quite a hardship.
Give it a moment or two more- he may still wake if you move now. When he starts to drool, then you know it is safe to move. [ Things he has learned. ] It will not take long. He has had an exciting day.
[ The affection in the look Alistair shoots at Zevran is not very different from that in the look he'd previously aimed at Lucci, if much briefer, before he leans his head over onto his own shoulder and shuts his eyes without letting his arms shift. ]
[ He absolutely counts and they both know it, much as Zevran is loathe to do much of anything one way or the other on that matter. Lucci is his for...as long as it takes. As long as they can manage safely. ]
Don't call him that, [ Alistair rumbles without moving—not too chastising, more whine than command. Already smitten. Slightly projecting. ] Say unexpected. Or surprise.
Someone has become attached quickly. Perhaps I should say he was determined to be born- Serena mentioned falling ill while with child and that she had been certain the witherstalk was fresh. He simply wished to be. I have to admire that.
[ Zevran chuckles, finishing his sketch and leaning forward to peer at Lucci. He is, indeed, drooling. ]
[ Alistair cracks open his eyes to evaluate the baby, then the bed. He probably shouldn't stay; he isn't supposed to be here without cause. But maybe Lucci counts as cause. Surely Seeker Pentaghast would understand.
He lays the baby down in the middle of the bed (he's not an idiot, completely), carefully. He tries to be careful stretching out alongside him, too, but he's big and slightly clumsy and it only does so much good. Plus he pauses to put his boots in Zevran's lap, just for a moment, joking, before pulling his legs up to arrange them behind him instead so he can lie on his side and stare, sleepy-eyed, at the baby, who doesn't have to move to be adorable. ]
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action.
[ Like magic. Or like Zevran being a good father. There's a very brief and very faint pang of something—brief and faint because Alistair never really wanted children, and has one anyway, and isn't actually all that sorry that he never saw Kieran as an infant. He's more fun now. But this is sweet. ]
He's all right. I guess he can stay.
action.
[ She? He asked. Alistair? Is bluntly informed as he settles back on the bed, infant tucked up against his shoulder. The moments of peace and quiet do not last. ]
action.
[ Still going to die in ten years, in all likelihood. But Zevran knows that. And he know Alistair is as bad an Andrastian as they come while still technically being one, and he knows he doesn't know the first thing about small children, and Alistair decides to take it the way it's probably meant. An honor. If something happens to Zevran before something happens to Alistair, they'll figure out what to do about the rest of it after they stop weeping. ]
Maybe Leliana will be speaking to me again by then, [ he says instead. A joke. There won't be a then. Nothing is happening to Zev. ] Thank you.
action.
[ He lifts a hand from where he's combing Lucci's curls out of his face, wiggling his fingers. ]
Let me show you how to hold him. Mia showed me. [ And it was less a moment of pride then than it was pure terror but seeing the same on Alistair's face? Would be worth it. ]
action.
[ Simple. Surely. Alistair comes as called, though, and settles next to Zevran. He feels twice as awkwardly enormous and clumsy as usual, with an itty bitty elf baby as a comparison point, but he'll do as he's told. ]
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Like this.
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But his face does go sort of goopy, for a moment, once Lucci's settled in a way that feels sort of easy. ]
Were you ever this little? Surely not.
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He needs so much that I do not know how to give. So...no. No I am not all right, Alistair. But I am making do.
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You're as fit as anyone I know, and you aren't alone. But you do have to let him rest sometimes, [ he says, now to Lucci, ] or you and me will have a problem.
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When his teeth have finished growing in it should pain him less and he should sleep more. Or. So I have been told.
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[ Effective, but maybe too much for such a tiny boy. They wouldn't want him going loopy. Diluted in a paste for his gums, maybe—Alistair isn't a herbalist. But maybe he'll ask someone who is. For the moment he sets it aside, eyeing Lucci and his chilled cloth with the terrifying, immediate fondness that only babies with their enormous harmless helpless eyes could inspire so quickly.
He lists to one side, while he's watching, unless his shoulder is against the bed's headboard. Then his head. He won't fall asleep and drop the baby, though, he's fine. ]
I could take Doghren to camp so you're not worrying about her, too. She'll be all right if she sleeps with me.
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[ It was a frightening face- not at all like this soft, warm affection present on Alistair's. Lucci seems to have worn himself out somewhat, suckling on that chilled rag lulling him into a drifting sort of slumber. Soon enough he would be a warm, dead weight in Alistair's arms.
And Zevran might manage a half hour or so of sleep. ]
Is it warm enough for her out there?
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[ A glowing report. He won't say that he'll carry her in his shirt front if necessary and let her sleep on his chest, because he is still standing by the principle that dogs belong outside and on the floor no matter how much he loves them, but he totally will, if it gets Zevran a little more sleep and cuts out the need to take her outside every few hours.
Lucci is very still. Alistair frees a hand to touch his nose tip—an insatiable hey pay attention to me impulse—but, receiving no response, doesn't bother him further. ]
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[ He has lost his mother in this- Zevran is loathe to take what few moments of comfort and familiarity that the boy has managed to find here away. ]
Alistair... [ A low word of warning, his eyes on that finger. ] With all due affection and respect- if you wake the baby? I will cut off your hand.
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I'll let her sleep in the tent, [ he says, sounding pleasantly put-upon. And tired. ] I wouldn't want a griffon to eat her.
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[ That had been a rather...graphic and angry threat, one he as still somewhat proud of considering how little sleep he'd been going off of at the time. ]
Thank you. I am certain it will be quite a hardship.
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What will you cut off if I lie down and that wakes him up?
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I told you. Little Zevrans.
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[ He absolutely counts and they both know it, much as Zevran is loathe to do much of anything one way or the other on that matter. Lucci is his for...as long as it takes. As long as they can manage safely. ]
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[ Zevran chuckles, finishing his sketch and leaning forward to peer at Lucci. He is, indeed, drooling. ]
It is safe now to move if you like.
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[ Alistair cracks open his eyes to evaluate the baby, then the bed. He probably shouldn't stay; he isn't supposed to be here without cause. But maybe Lucci counts as cause. Surely Seeker Pentaghast would understand.
He lays the baby down in the middle of the bed (he's not an idiot, completely), carefully. He tries to be careful stretching out alongside him, too, but he's big and slightly clumsy and it only does so much good. Plus he pauses to put his boots in Zevran's lap, just for a moment, joking, before pulling his legs up to arrange them behind him instead so he can lie on his side and stare, sleepy-eyed, at the baby, who doesn't have to move to be adorable. ]
So little, [ he murmurs, still stuck on it. ]
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