he carries the reminder of every glove that laid him down or cut him till he cried out

[bloodyantivan]

Date & Time: 5/23, evening
Location: Zevran's favorite hole-in-the-wall
Characters: Zevran Arainai (bloodyantivan), Vanadi (implying)
Summary: ELF PROBLEMS.
Warnings: ELF PROBLEMS.

[A pall has been cast over the city. It lingers like an ugly, bitter black smoke that chokes the lungs and attacks the health. Some are angry, snarling at each other on street corners for imagined slights. Others cry silently, their faces in their hands. Zevran sincerely hates this feeling. Now when the rain falls, there is utter certainty the sun will not return.

What little vitality remained among the Transports is bleeding away. And he is no better, truly, in a foul mood from witnessing the destruction of Madrid, a place so like his Antiva City he almost tasted it in the warm air. But instead his tongue came away coated with ash, and the life or two he might have saved is minuscule compared to the amount lost. This war is a blight in its own way, yet Alistair is not here and Elissa is no better equipped to fight it than he is.

It reminds him of the first time the Crow recruits were given knives and told to fight each other, the first time a child fell not at the hands of his or her master but at the hands of their fellow allies. The shock of it deadened the air just like this.

But all was not lost then, and it will not be now. Eventually, those who survived the training began to laugh and joke and smile again, they drank and made love and played games of gambling and sport. The best he can say about a mood like this is that it will lift through self-preservation alone. Torture recruits, force their hand, expose them to ugliness and suffering and some will be crushed to dust, gibbering messes for their brothers and sisters to clean up.

But the others will be fighters, survivors. The others will kill the parts of their hearts that love and fear too much. It will happen.

Zevran just isn't sure he wants it to.

He's been obsessively cleaning his weapons for an entire day. Finally, he makes use of the housing showers and dresses to go out: high boots, soft green shirt, gray hooded zip-up over that.

He doesn't wear red.

And after poking about at some of the shops, he ducks into his favorite tavern. The barmaid is already readying his brandy when he sees someone he met quite a long time ago. He looks different now, but not entirely unfamiliar.

He decides then and there that he is through with all of this solitary brooding.

Zevran sidles up to the other pointed-ear gentleman at the bar.]

Buy you a drink, my friend?

Comments

[bloodyantivan]

[Zevran lets Vanadi touch, watching the trail of his gloved fingers. In this way, they are matched: mostly covered. It is delicate work to get ink over the faded nicks and scars.] They mean many things. The art of tattoo is sacred to the Crows.

These are significant of some kills I was proud of.

[implying]

[ And that, it seems, is all it takes for Vanadi to take his hand back. His eyes move up to meet Zevran's, abandoning the tattoos, with brows drawn together and a lip half bitten. It's usually easy to keep his expression schooled, but the loss of a mask and the addition of alcohol tip the scales a little. ]

They were voluntary? [ A stupid question, he knows that after he asks it. Of course they were voluntary — who would be proud of lives they were forced to take? His hand drops to the countertop. ]

[bloodyantivan]

Oh? Do you perhaps find your desire to kiss me subsiding? [Zevran chuckles, shaking his head a bit while he replaces his sleeve.]

It is true, I was honored to be given them at the time. I wanted to show I was the best at what I did, and I landed many a pretty girl or boy in my bed for an evening showing off what I was capable of.

[implying]

[ His eyes narrow a little — nothing like anger, more of an unhappy wince. He runs a hand through his hair, sighs, and shakes his head. ]

That's no kind of a talent. That's just... [ His sentence trails off and falls apart as his gaze falls on his currently mostly-drained glass, and he eyes it gloomily. ] It's a downer. Why do I ever try with it?

[bloodyantivan]

My talent is not what I can bring to bed. It is not killing people. It is surviving. [He hovers over his drink, his expression grim.] There is no shame in that.

In this, I think perhaps we are similar.

Now... I know precisely why you think what you were trying to do would help, and it would have proved quite the diversion.

However, perhaps I can offer an alternative. Tell me what is on your mind. I am excellent at listening. One must be, to be a good lover, yes?

[implying]

[ He eyes Zevran, a little doubtfully. Although lines and habits are all blurring into one another at the moment, and he has a sneaking suspicion that talking wouldn't be all so bad, these are still the things that he keeps a firm clamp on. You don't talk about these things. Pity isn't the goal -- just affection.

He shifts a little, casting a glance around the room now. He could talk to Zevran... or, he could find someone a good deal more single to spend the night with. In a murmur: ] It doesn't make for a good story.

[bloodyantivan]

Allow me to be the judge of that. Or, perhaps if you like, we could trade? A story for a story, and so on like that?

[Zevran makes sure the drinks keep coming. He is rather impressed with Vanadi's pace.]

And perhaps if I like your story, it could be worth a kiss.

[Just because he's single doesn't mean he doesn't like flirting, even if it might end with a tease. But what harm is a kiss?]

[implying]

[ Well, that suggestion certainly catches his attention. He cocks an ear, considers it, and starts on his latest drink. No harm in it, he supposes. ]

Well, I hope you hate happy endings. Just give me more moment to... cloud my decision-making facilities. [ Just a slight stumble in his speech there. And to encourage it, another deep drink. ]

[bloodyantivan]

As long as you like, friend. [Zevran raises his glass in amusement, and drinks in solidarity.]

I do not hate happy endings but I do not believe in them, either.

[implying]

[ He sets down the empty glass and sways once, happily. ]

Ah, there. I do believe that will tide me over for a good ten minutes. [ A glance over. ] Now... stories. Yes? Perhaps you ought to go first? I'll happily follow any lead.

lmao that icon

[bloodyantivan]

Hmm. Not so very long ago, I took on a mission to kill the two remaining Grey Wardens in Ferelden. It was considered to be quite a foolish one, since they were fierce warriors, both, but I... did not care. [They're not so good of friends that Zevran is about to admit he was suicidal.] Naturally, they bested my ambush. Yet instead of slitting my throat, their leader waited to question me.

A fine idea, as I was more than happy to give up who hired me, though I did not know why. After all, I was going to die anyway, either by their hand or the hand of the Crows, so what loyalty did I have to them? I explained that I had been purchased as a child, and raised to become an assassin with no option to leave.

I offered my services, one last, desperate plea for my life... and she accepted. I pledged myself to serve her cause from then on.

Since then she has tried to release me... [A pause while he adds it up.] Probably a dozen times. But I have remained by her side, loyal to the end.

She is the only human has ever shown me much kindness. But, lest you believe this story end too happily, in our world, we are not together. And we part ways, possibly never to see each other again. She will die very young, corrupted and turning into a beast before she goes beneath the ground to die.

And I will take on the assassins who once owned me. Even if I best them, or even if I decided to run for my fate, it is likely that someday down the road I will be defeated. I know too much of them to ever be safe.

don't you laugh at his beautiful face

[implying]

[ He listens as well as he can, starting out with an elbow on the bar and chin in palm. But at some point he sits up, brow creasing in a small frown.

He doesn't speak until Zevran's finished, and then it's with less of the careless slur than before. ]

How do you know your fates?

i'll smooch it instead <3

[bloodyantivan]

Because she is from... how do they say it? Later in the timeline. And when last I met she was involved with one of our friends, not me. [Zevran had not even thought it was possible, between them, but who wouldn't carry a torch for Elissa?] She has undertaken a ritual that poisoned her blood, and I have left a group of assassins who believe the only way to leave is to die. I could run for the rest of my life, but I would always be looking over my shoulder.

[Zevran shrugs, and keeps at his drink.]

It is your turn for the story, friend.

[implying]

[ It doesn't seem like the answer has pleased him much, and he has the feeling that if he could think more clearly, he might argue it -- ah, but he can't, and he reluctantly drops it. ]

I suppose this story starts with the fact of my parents' considerable wealth... The best of the best in terms of lessons in everything for their only child. I especially liked the lessons in kobast -- our style of combat, that is. I was very good. Good enough to catch the eye of a brilliant mind looking to engineer life. Ah, but she needed a template, and it had to be one in very good shape to begin with.

[ He pauses here, chuckles, and shrugs. ]

A wonderful example of "too perfect for my own good". Ah, but in any case, this human bought me from our Council. A bit unpresidented, but I understand I was worth enough to make them favor it!

[ He pauses here, every instinct telling him to clam up as he always does. But he's already started, wouldn't it be easier to just talk? He glances around the two of them, reassuring himself that they're as alone as it's possible to be in a room. And, in a moment, he lifts an arm to pull back his sleeve. Underneath, past the fabric of the glove, is entirely metal. Paneling, the edge of a vent, all silvery and intricate. ]

So she did things like this. Over the course of a year, I lost about, ah... half of my body, perhaps? She doesn't generally talk to me, so what I've picked up has been addressed to assistants and such.

[ He pulls the sleeve down again, drops his arm, and reaches for the latest glass to drink a little desperately. Concessions break! ]

[bloodyantivan]

[Zevran traces the metal curiously. His gloves are fingerless, so it's sort of a step up from how Vanadi touched him, though ironically there's just the same amount of skin-to-skin.

The 'being sold by parents' theme is a sadly familiar one for elves, though usually it is because the family was in poverty. Zevran himself was sold by the brothel he was raised in, though it was hardly the same as having parents. He thinks perhaps that the heartbreak must have been worse for Vanadi, if ever he believed someone in the world cared for him.

Betrayal stings more when you lose something precious.]

She made you into a weapon...?

[implying]

[ He offers a smile with that, wry and humorless. ]

Oh, yes. A rather good one. She added this charming little program — I couldn't begin to get into the technicalities — to ensure obedience. I'll do whatever she asks, good little weapon that I am. But that isn't the end of the story, because one day I managed to find for myself a little hole in reality. Nothing that she'd been able to ever predict, so she hadn't been able to tell me not to go through it. I did.

[ Here the smile actually gains a little warmth. His eyes lose their focus, distant with fond memory. ]

I discovered Cittagazze — a nexus of worlds, not unlike this one. But everyone in Cittagazze came of their own accord, more or less. It only took discovering a window to slip through, and one could go home at any time. I, of course, had them immediately seal shut my window, and I was free. Even when the Initative's Transporter grabbed hold of me, it wasn't so bad. I was sorry to have lost the friends I had in Cittagazze, but — well, at least it wasn't home, yes? Even here, I'd been happy.

[ He darts a glance over here, unhappy again. The next part of his story is obvious to him. The part that had really brought everything crashing down around him again. And surely what's obvious to him must be clear to the rest of the world, too. ]

[bloodyantivan]

What happened? [Zevran asks softly, taking a drink.

This is Vanadi's story to tell, and he hopes there's some catharsis in it.

He relates to some of it. Ensured obedience rings true, though he wonders if Vanadi knew something was wrong at the time. Zevran hadn't. There are still doubts that linger because of it.]

[implying]

[ He can feel his system processing all of that alcohol. The pleasant blur is draining away. He sighs, shrugs, and drops his chin into a palm. ]

The Transporter sent me for a visit home — to my original world. I'd always assumed it would put me back where it got me, but I recently discovered I was wrong.

[ He's talked too much. This is a badly told story at best, and nothing but miserable to the teller — he shouldn't have said anything. Should have made something up, maybe. Should definitely be leaving soon. ]

[bloodyantivan]

[Zevran is beginning to very much understand Vanadi's point of view. He has experienced similar emotional wreckage, and he is shockingly close to wanting to do the very thing he rejected just to have to keep himself from remembering how that felt.

But if all he needs to do is forget, he can run drills or drink himself into a stupor. More important, now, is Vanadi: he has disclosed something intimate to Zevran, and Zevran must respect it.

Besides, that kind of sex - mutual-pain sex - is far too easy to prone to emotional entanglements. It's better for them both if that doesn't happen now.]

...I am guessing it did not take you to someplace beautiful and tropical, no?

[He can guess where this story goes, but it is important that Vanadi tell it.]

[implying]

No. [ That's with a wry smile, but it quickly shrivels and falls away. ] Straight back to the dank alley I'd originally left to see Cittagazze from. I immediately looked for the same window I'd found the first time, but of course that was long sealed. I next tried running, but I had reappeared on my arrival back on her tracking grid, and she came to fetch me.

[ He sighs, sits up a little straighter, and shoves away the rest of whatever drink it is he has left. ]

Ah, sobriety. It comes too quickly these days! [ It sounds falsely cheerful, but he doesn't bother pull up the expression to match. ]

[bloodyantivan]

[Zevran is mildly surprised Vanadi doesn't continue, but merely works on is own drink.]

It usually comes too quickly no matter when it happens.

I see now why you are in poor spirits. Does it not cheer you on even a little that you are currently far from her clutches?

[implying]

Currently. That's an important little word, isn't it?

[ He stares for a moment at nothing in particular, then unfolds from the stool as he stands himself up. A glance finds Zevran, underscored with a smile that isn't really much of a smile. ]

Charming company as you are, I'm not convinced it's the sort I'm looking for tonight.

[bloodyantivan]

And yet you are preoccupied enough with currently to shun my company in favor of a more immediate satisfaction. [Zevran tsks softly.]

I will pretend not to be tremendously hurt that you would rather spend the nights between the sheets than trading intimate tales, but trust me, inside of my heart, I am crying. It is a veritable tempest of heartbreak within my very soul. [He presses a gloved hand to the soft gray fabric on his chest.] I am devastated.

I must give you a parting gift, though, if you will allow it. Come closer please?

[implying]

[ He hovers, a little uncertainly. All that heartbreak had almost gotten a real smile from him — it had at least pushed away the fake one. But despite that, he still wants to leave. Badly. This is time that could be spent otherwise getting to know someone more accommodating.

But, after a few seconds of hesitation, he draws nearer. ]

I've no idea how I could say no to such a face.

[bloodyantivan]

[Zevran grasps him gently on the collar and lays a kiss on the side of Vanadi's mouth. It is warm, though not exactly chaste.]

I enjoyed our talk. We could have another some time - any time you like.