"No, Alistair, you did not win." But it is still adorable, still worth the combing of his hand through Alistair's hair and for a moment there is none of that strangeness, none of that odd contemplation. Only the boy he'd met that wrestled with dogs in the mud and complained about a hole in his shirt while ignoring the hole in his side. The boy that took a blow from a shriek without flinching and winced theatrically through every yank of a splinter from his palms.
This impossible, contrary man that has been his friend and brother for almost so long he could put aside all his well earned reservations about men of noble or semi-noble blood.
And then the guards.
And then the gasping wheeze of that excuse from months ago and Zevran's composure cracks entirely- he is doubled over, crackling with laughter, attempting and failing to find the right words. "All- all is well! I assure you, all is well."
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Date: 2016-07-14 01:49 am (UTC)This impossible, contrary man that has been his friend and brother for almost so long he could put aside all his well earned reservations about men of noble or semi-noble blood.
And then the guards.
And then the gasping wheeze of that excuse from months ago and Zevran's composure cracks entirely- he is doubled over, crackling with laughter, attempting and failing to find the right words. "All- all is well! I assure you, all is well."