It hadn't. There had been the ball, the dancing, the drinking, the offers made- Alistair already long gone out of Ferelden forever or as long as he could stand to be away. Usually when Zevran in the intermittent years found his favorite warden and visited in person he was the one packing, leaving with a joke and a wave.
He does not do well alone, he's learned. The past decade proved that well; after so long with the crows, with even the barbed arms of Taliesin. Having someone kind, someone he trusted implicitly here had been enough to soften and spoil him.
After a moment he pushes away from the wall to assist with the packing. Beyond the walls, not gone entirely. He'll be fine. ]
I will come to you, yes? It is not so far a climb.
[ A fake moan. It isn't far, and it's very fair. He'd just been feeling a bit—settled. Which was probably stupid. He hasn't really stayed in one place this long since he escaped the monastery; they never planned to move in longer than it takes to stop the Wardens from dying and/or trying to kill them; and if he could stick around for ages, Zevran probably couldn't.
He smiles, though, while he pulls Doghren back out of his sack by her hind legs before she can steal back her rope toy and holds her up one-handed to let her sniff around his ear. ]
[ Zevran slides into Alistair's space much as he always has, as though he had a right to be there and leech his warmth. Straddles him, scoops the pup up against his shoulder so they might both lean against the man that is leaving. Make use of his heat and his comfortable solidity one last time. ]
You cannot take her with you, it is far too cold. But...I will bring her to visit, yes? She will miss you horribly otherwise.
[ The protest is blasé, barely a protest at all, but he is bothered. Not because he's attached to her. He's definitely not. She's barely even a dog, and when she's a bigger she's going to live in the kennels with the other dogs and quasi-dogs and unwanted bastards and fend for herself. None of this sleeping-in-a-bed-with-people-and-being-fed-scraps business. It all smacks of Orlais.
He's not attached. He sort of wanted to prove he could do it, that's all, rather than taking in a puppy just to leave it for Zevran to look after. Twice. Maybe forever. But letting her freeze to death would sort of defeat the purpose—and, in a very unattached way, he wants her to be safe—so he sighs and settles his arms around Zevran's back and his chin over his head. ]
All right. All right. Then I'm taking your real pillow.
[ He has never slept half so well as he did in a bed alone. The press of a familiar body- of someone he trusted should danger come to his door, someone he trusted not to take what he would not wish to give-
He never had that before. He may never have it again. Doghren snuffles into Alistair's shirt as Zevran does the same to his chest, eyes squeezed closed against an uncharacteristic burn of sentiment.
Nothing is lost in this. Nothing is truly gone. Alistair is alive, he is will, he will simply be further away. Pouting about it is childish. ]
[ He's not hurt. He barely manages to sound offended, and what sound he does accomplish is probably ruined by the comforting hand he rubs up and down Zevran's spine, not too gently. He does hate this, really: he'll be all right with the Wardens, himself. More than. It's what he's used to. But Zevran can only be so all right, this soon after what happened, and being present—that's what Alistair can do. What he does. Zev fixes socks and fetches breakfast and minds him like a child, and in return Alistair hangs around and Cares Intensely.
Maybe if he cares intensely from the valley it will still reach. ]
I'm sure you could find one. You have to make sure they know it's a temporary post, though, so no one's too brokenhearted when all of this is over.
[ Zevran says nothing, too busy branding this in his memory as though he'd never have it again. He might, of course, it wasn't forever. It was until there was somewhere warm and proper that the Wardens might use to sleep and live in, but he would not stay in a tent with Alistair again. Perhaps that made him soft. But he had a bed, now. A room. Somewhere of his own that he shared as he willed and only as he willed.
And now half of that was being taken away.
He buries his face in Alistair's chest, mumbling in inarticulate Antivan. Nonsense complaints about the world. ]
Only until you have a proper room with heat and a proper bed. Then? I am moving down with you.
And no one will ever stop believing we're sleeping together.
[ That's not a complaint. He doesn't care; he sounds entertained, beneath the general weariness, and he affectionately nudges the top of Zevran's head with his chin. ]
[ Alistair huffs, amused, and lightly pinches the back of Zevran's rib cage where his hand has come to rest. ]
Why would we want anything except a log cabin filled with dogs? [ He drops his head down alongside Zevran's instead of over it, so he can kiss Doghren on the top of her head. She seems ready to fall asleep. Maybe something about being nestled between them like a swaddled baby. Something to remember next time she won't calm down, probably. ] They should move over with us. I can make sure they don't get into too much trouble.
[ Dead, flat, to make up for the lack of pinching as he sighs. Doghren is slowly starting to doze and Zevran considers, for a moment, the wisdom of doing the same. Alistair cannot leave if he is sleeping on him like a dead weight. ]
If all of you are comfortable with that- it would give them somewhere more safe to stay.
[ Vaguely threatening, mostly unconcerned. They're allowing an abomination with a history of blowing things up to stay with them. If they can sleep at night knowing he's there, surely they can sleep knowing some young former Crows are there as well.
This is all so stupid—they've spent years on opposite ends of Thedas, it's only a hike away, Alistair will probably be back to borrow the bed during the day—but he stays put anyway. ]
It's probably not too late to kill Anders and give his head to Seeker Pentaghast.
[ Just- putting that out there. No amount of warning can prepare someone for Fereldan lamb stew.
Ever.
Zevran burrows closer into Alistair's chest as though such a thing were even possible, eyes drifting closed. Only a few months, they had this, and he knew one day it would end for something or another. He simply wasn't prepared to be a little responsible for it. ]
I have killed more people than him. I've killed more chantry sisters than him. He was simply efficient about it.
What? They haven't lived until they've tasted Ferelden cooking. Or tried to taste it. You can't really taste the tasteless. But you can make an effort, for the story.
[ He knows. He doesn't see what the fuss is about—food is food, and he would rather eat gray-brown slop than anything that makes him wheeze and cry, food is not supposed to make you cry—but he does know. ]
Efficient, conspicuous, and possessed. [ And Zevran's death toll doesn't sit well with Alistair, either, all banter aside. It's a thing he sets aside, doesn't think about, makes excuses for—love is hypocritical. He feels discomfited and then he feels like a jerk for being discomfited. He turns his head to talk against Zevran's temple in unspoken apology for unspoken feelings. ] And you're more likable.
It is an experience, and one I would spare them. They have endured enough.
[ Easy to tease. Easy to joke about even when there's a part of him that missed it the ten years past- parts of him that will miss it when he's in the valley.
Not his tongue, of course, or his stomach but- parts. ]
I am not certain he had much of a choice in the matter, considering who he is possessed by. It does not seem like it was with Wynne. [ The conversation, however brief, had been proof enough of that. ] How so? We have similar senses of humor, he is similarly attractive though human and a mage whereas I am elven and an assassin.
Uhh, no. You're much more handsome. His stubble is odd and his nose is nearly as bad as mine. [ That doesn't even begin to approach being true. ] And he's sort of preachy sometimes, which is meant to be my job. I voted to keep him though, I'm not—
[ He's not actually suggesting they murder Anders to appease the Inquisition. He just hadn't realized he'd be losing Leliana's goodwill, his permission to see Kieran, his weird homey arrangement with Zevran, and his blasted dog in the bargain. If he's pushed any further he's going to invent country music for Thedas and everyone will be sorry. ]
I'm only tired. He's safe with us. Relatively, anyway.
[ Regal, one might say, but he knows better. They've only just made up after all. ]
...I will give you that. 'Mage rights', 'just and unjust', it is so exhausting. Doghren and I will come to visit and if you think you can sneak up when the dreams are bad- there will be room in the bed for you.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
NOT YET
Date: 2016-03-14 09:06 pm (UTC)[ Last time it had been like this-
It hadn't. There had been the ball, the dancing, the drinking, the offers made- Alistair already long gone out of Ferelden forever or as long as he could stand to be away. Usually when Zevran in the intermittent years found his favorite warden and visited in person he was the one packing, leaving with a joke and a wave.
He does not do well alone, he's learned. The past decade proved that well; after so long with the crows, with even the barbed arms of Taliesin. Having someone kind, someone he trusted implicitly here had been enough to soften and spoil him.
After a moment he pushes away from the wall to assist with the packing. Beyond the walls, not gone entirely. He'll be fine. ]
I will come to you, yes? It is not so far a climb.
>C
Date: 2016-03-15 02:22 am (UTC)[ A fake moan. It isn't far, and it's very fair. He'd just been feeling a bit—settled. Which was probably stupid. He hasn't really stayed in one place this long since he escaped the monastery; they never planned to move in longer than it takes to stop the Wardens from dying and/or trying to kill them; and if he could stick around for ages, Zevran probably couldn't.
He smiles, though, while he pulls Doghren back out of his sack by her hind legs before she can steal back her rope toy and holds her up one-handed to let her sniff around his ear. ]
I'm taking your pillow.
no subject
Date: 2016-03-15 03:56 am (UTC)[ Zevran slides into Alistair's space much as he always has, as though he had a right to be there and leech his warmth. Straddles him, scoops the pup up against his shoulder so they might both lean against the man that is leaving. Make use of his heat and his comfortable solidity one last time. ]
You cannot take her with you, it is far too cold. But...I will bring her to visit, yes? She will miss you horribly otherwise.
no subject
Date: 2016-03-15 06:32 am (UTC)[ The protest is blasé, barely a protest at all, but he is bothered. Not because he's attached to her. He's definitely not. She's barely even a dog, and when she's a bigger she's going to live in the kennels with the other dogs and quasi-dogs and unwanted bastards and fend for herself. None of this sleeping-in-a-bed-with-people-and-being-fed-scraps business. It all smacks of Orlais.
He's not attached. He sort of wanted to prove he could do it, that's all, rather than taking in a puppy just to leave it for Zevran to look after. Twice. Maybe forever. But letting her freeze to death would sort of defeat the purpose—and, in a very unattached way, he wants her to be safe—so he sighs and settles his arms around Zevran's back and his chin over his head. ]
All right. All right. Then I'm taking your real pillow.
no subject
Date: 2016-03-15 06:48 am (UTC)[ He has never slept half so well as he did in a bed alone. The press of a familiar body- of someone he trusted should danger come to his door, someone he trusted not to take what he would not wish to give-
He never had that before. He may never have it again. Doghren snuffles into Alistair's shirt as Zevran does the same to his chest, eyes squeezed closed against an uncharacteristic burn of sentiment.
Nothing is lost in this. Nothing is truly gone. Alistair is alive, he is will, he will simply be further away. Pouting about it is childish. ]
I demand a replacement.
no subject
Date: 2016-03-15 08:44 pm (UTC)[ He's not hurt. He barely manages to sound offended, and what sound he does accomplish is probably ruined by the comforting hand he rubs up and down Zevran's spine, not too gently. He does hate this, really: he'll be all right with the Wardens, himself. More than. It's what he's used to. But Zevran can only be so all right, this soon after what happened, and being present—that's what Alistair can do. What he does. Zev fixes socks and fetches breakfast and minds him like a child, and in return Alistair hangs around and Cares Intensely.
Maybe if he cares intensely from the valley it will still reach. ]
I'm sure you could find one. You have to make sure they know it's a temporary post, though, so no one's too brokenhearted when all of this is over.
no subject
Date: 2016-03-16 01:59 am (UTC)And now half of that was being taken away.
He buries his face in Alistair's chest, mumbling in inarticulate Antivan. Nonsense complaints about the world. ]
Only until you have a proper room with heat and a proper bed. Then? I am moving down with you.
no subject
Date: 2016-03-18 03:18 pm (UTC)[ That's not a complaint. He doesn't care; he sounds entertained, beneath the general weariness, and he affectionately nudges the top of Zevran's head with his chin. ]
I'll see what I can do.
no subject
Date: 2016-03-18 06:12 pm (UTC)[ Why is that so strange a thing? Or- oh. That rumor that he continues to nudge along out of sheer amusement. ]
If you need help planning something more complicated than 'log cabin, filled with dogs', I and my Kestrels can help.
no subject
Date: 2016-03-19 05:53 pm (UTC)Why would we want anything except a log cabin filled with dogs? [ He drops his head down alongside Zevran's instead of over it, so he can kiss Doghren on the top of her head. She seems ready to fall asleep. Maybe something about being nestled between them like a swaddled baby. Something to remember next time she won't calm down, probably. ] They should move over with us. I can make sure they don't get into too much trouble.
no subject
Date: 2016-03-19 07:14 pm (UTC)[ Dead, flat, to make up for the lack of pinching as he sighs. Doghren is slowly starting to doze and Zevran considers, for a moment, the wisdom of doing the same. Alistair cannot leave if he is sleeping on him like a dead weight. ]
If all of you are comfortable with that- it would give them somewhere more safe to stay.
no subject
Date: 2016-03-19 11:04 pm (UTC)[ Vaguely threatening, mostly unconcerned. They're allowing an abomination with a history of blowing things up to stay with them. If they can sleep at night knowing he's there, surely they can sleep knowing some young former Crows are there as well.
This is all so stupid—they've spent years on opposite ends of Thedas, it's only a hike away, Alistair will probably be back to borrow the bed during the day—but he stays put anyway. ]
It's probably not too late to kill Anders and give his head to Seeker Pentaghast.
no subject
Date: 2016-03-20 12:02 am (UTC)[ Just- putting that out there. No amount of warning can prepare someone for Fereldan lamb stew.
Ever.
Zevran burrows closer into Alistair's chest as though such a thing were even possible, eyes drifting closed. Only a few months, they had this, and he knew one day it would end for something or another. He simply wasn't prepared to be a little responsible for it. ]
I have killed more people than him. I've killed more chantry sisters than him. He was simply efficient about it.
no subject
Date: 2016-03-20 12:41 am (UTC)[ He knows. He doesn't see what the fuss is about—food is food, and he would rather eat gray-brown slop than anything that makes him wheeze and cry, food is not supposed to make you cry—but he does know. ]
Efficient, conspicuous, and possessed. [ And Zevran's death toll doesn't sit well with Alistair, either, all banter aside. It's a thing he sets aside, doesn't think about, makes excuses for—love is hypocritical. He feels discomfited and then he feels like a jerk for being discomfited. He turns his head to talk against Zevran's temple in unspoken apology for unspoken feelings. ] And you're more likable.
no subject
Date: 2016-03-20 02:25 am (UTC)[ Easy to tease. Easy to joke about even when there's a part of him that missed it the ten years past- parts of him that will miss it when he's in the valley.
Not his tongue, of course, or his stomach but- parts. ]
I am not certain he had much of a choice in the matter, considering who he is possessed by. It does not seem like it was with Wynne. [ The conversation, however brief, had been proof enough of that. ] How so? We have similar senses of humor, he is similarly attractive though human and a mage whereas I am elven and an assassin.
no subject
Date: 2016-03-20 03:40 am (UTC)[ He's not actually suggesting they murder Anders to appease the Inquisition. He just hadn't realized he'd be losing Leliana's goodwill, his permission to see Kieran, his weird homey arrangement with Zevran, and his blasted dog in the bargain. If he's pushed any further he's going to invent country music for Thedas and everyone will be sorry. ]
I'm only tired. He's safe with us. Relatively, anyway.
no subject
Date: 2016-03-20 09:24 am (UTC)[ Regal, one might say, but he knows better. They've only just made up after all. ]
...I will give you that. 'Mage rights', 'just and unjust', it is so exhausting. Doghren and I will come to visit and if you think you can sneak up when the dreams are bad- there will be room in the bed for you.