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

[implying]

[ He feels awkward tonight. The mask is a little too heavy, his clothing doesn't sit quite right, his smiles feel forced, his lilting tone doesn't strike quite the right notes. Is it all in his head? He's not sure. People around him seem to respond about the same, so — well, maybe he's just imagining things. The feeling that he's forgotten how to charm his way into a bar and from there into someone's pants, surely it's only a feeling.

The question, however, helps. It's never an unwelcome question, no matter what dark mood he's in. The nose of the mask tips toward Zevran, and though it takes him a second, the bright smile eventually finds its roots in recognition. He leans nearer to him. ]

Now, what sort of company would I be if I said no?

[bloodyantivan]

Lesser company than you are sure to provide.

[Zevran chit-chats with the bartender a bit, asking after some of the other servers before ordering whatever Vanadi wants. It isn't long before they're both supplied with their alcohol of choice. Zevran swirls his brandy in its snifter - a snooty practice he'll probably never be used to, and frankly above the swill he's buying - and thinks again of Madrid. Ah, he should have picked up some wine or brandy there.]

I suppose the first thing to ask is how have you been? I apologize for never calling your number. I am actually terribly shy. [Obviously the wide grin indicates a joke.]

[implying]

[ Normally he'd join into this chit-chat, but tonight he just grows antsy. He shifts, glancing around now and then at the rest of the room, wondering irrationally if he should go and talk to someone else. But he has someone right here, and someone who's just gotten him a drink, at that -- he stays. Not happily, but he stays.

He musters up a smile at the question, and the mask makes it just as friendly as any other. ]

Well, that's a risk that every man takes, when he writes his number on a stranger's hand. I can hardly blame you. As for me, I've been... [ The pause here is just embarrassing. He's been the opposite of fine, but lying about it has never been difficult before. ] Fine. [ The smile grows. ] Just as everyone else around here has.

[bloodyantivan]

It was, unfortunately, a missed opportunity, as I must now only partake in drinks as friends.

[Zevran pays more attention to his drink, sensing Vanadi's disposition quite pointedly changed. What a difference many months make - for Zevran, having gone home for some time, it's been nearly a year, perhaps longer, he thinks. Time is strange here, sometimes he thinks it's only been a few days since he turned up in the Hold.]

Have you really been as terrible as that? I am putting you on my tab tonight, then. You undoubtedly need it.

[implying]

That's a pity.

[ Enough of a pity that he strongly considers getting up again. What he really wants out of the night is to bury himself in sheets, in flesh, in caresses and murmurs -- bury himself so deeply that he forgets everything else. He'd like to exhaust himself to the point of a completely empty mind and never catch his breath.

But he stays seated. It feels like too much work to find some other soul to cling to.

That's thoughtful of you! Ah, but it would neatly clean you out to get me as many drinks as I need. [ The tone stays light and playful, easily waved off as a joke. ]

[bloodyantivan]

I am willing to run the risk. If you drink me into debt, I shall ask the Initiative to comp my bill, in consideration of all they have put us through recently. [Zevran raises a glass cheerfully and drinks.]

We could make a contest of it, if you like. The winner gets to drag the loser off the floor.

[implying]

[ When he laughs, instead of the bitter and hysterical edge he fears, it sounds appropriately lighthearted and amused. Well... good. This isn't so hard, is it? ]

That would be an unfair contest, my dear! But, if you're really so eager to drink yourself into a stupor, why, I won't be the one to stop you.

[bloodyantivan]

Quite frankly, friend, you are the one who appears to be in need of it. [Zevran gently squeezes Vanadi's shoulder, giving him a knowing smile.] There is a droop to your shoulders. You are tired, no? And yet you do not go home to sleep.

[implying]

[ The metal shoulder, just his luck. Vanadi instinctively pulls away, but covers the fall of his smile with a long drink from his mug. It's back again when the mug hits the countertop, half empty. ]

Why, that's only because I can't have you there for company! Just what is it keeping you a friend tonight?

[bloodyantivan]

[Was that armor? He doesn't quite understand, but it has him curious.] --A woman; dangerous, powerful, and breathtakingly beautiful.

[implying]

( Naturally. He can't even be disappointed, he's too used to the answer. He smiles, wide and bright. )

She sounds wonderful. Surely she could appreciate an invitation to come along with?

[bloodyantivan]

Perhaps she might, someday, but here is where things get surprising. I do not believe we are ready for that level of adventure, because we have not yet consummated our affair.

[Zevran taps his lips with his fingertips: even in his city-bought clothing, he prefers the feel and grip of gloves, though these are ones they say are meant for driving, and thus leave his fingers bare.]

...It is entirely possibly I have lost my mind. But I am happy, as is she, and that is what matters, yes?

Though probably not so much to you. It is no fun to hear of another's happiness, particularly if there are no naughty details to share.

[implying]

[ He should probably laugh, reassure Zevran that it's a happiness he's glad to hear about, and to let him know if the situation ever changes. He knows the script perfectly well, the words only have to be given breath.

Instead, he downs the second half of the drink. ]

My dear, I think you're losing.

[bloodyantivan]

[Zevran does laugh.] Perhaps! It seems mad to me as well, this is so. But there are a great many ways a game or a battle can play out. Short and brief achievements, as pleasurable as they are, may not, in the end, result in winning.

[He calls for more drink.]

Only time may see, and the United Earth may make corpses of us all long before then.

[implying]

I've a much closer goal in mind, actually.

( and if zevran is ordering more, vanadi will happily snake a hand over to finish off his drink for him too. and, yeah, now he's starting to feel it. )

[bloodyantivan]

[Zevran lets him have at it, continuing to drink brandy. He doubts very much he'll get as drunk as Vanadi, in spite of past posturing, and that is just fine.

Sometimes it's the mere act of having a drink in the hand that makes one feel like talking. Of course, Zevran's used that to his advantage a hundred times when it comes to his job. But this is a lot more innocent.]

Oh? What goal would that be?

[implying]

( He grins, wide and sharp with those pointed teeth. )

I'd really like to be drunk enough to stumble at least once tonight. I think that would be marvelous.

[bloodyantivan]

[Pointed teeth. How could have forgotten those?]

If all you want is to stumble, my friend, I would gladly clock you with the pommel of my dagger! Or I could throw a flask of stunning gas at you. Either way, you would surely stumble.

[And yet he asks the barmaid to keep the drinks coming.]

[implying]

No, no... I would only filter the gas. Though I suppose head trauma might work, if you found the right place...

[ He considers that quietly for a few seconds, nose of the mask tipped down to point toward the countertop. But he soon gives up the train of thought, distracted in his growing haze. ]

You know, it's a terrible shame — I never even kissed you.

[bloodyantivan]

Are you asking for a kiss? You have mistaken me for a cruel man. That would be like the shadow of a coin as payment, or the scent of a meal as food.

[Zevran 'tsks' softly, shaking his head.]

It would be unfair.

[implying]

[ The cock of that mask says Vanadi might be studying him. Or he could be looking off at something else — it's difficult to say. He's still for a few seconds before he shifts, pulling off the mask with a gentle, metallic click. He settles it on one of his knees, idly rubs at the long ears, unfurling from their pinion under the mask, and smiles at nothing in particular. ]

It would have been enough.

[bloodyantivan]

[Glad for the chance to shift the conversation to Vanadi, Zevran makes a small sound of approval when he takes off his mask. He doesn't hide the fact he's looking - why would he? It's only looking.]

Is it not difficult, hiding such a beautiful face from the world?

[implying]

[ He wants to leave again. Instead he casts a glance over at Zevran, a little flat, which turns quickly into a glance over the rim of his newest glass. This one is going down just as quickly as the others — he has to hurry, before his system can process what he's downed so far.

He answers when the glass is back on the countertop again, empty, and does it with a charming smile. ]

I like your tattoo. Do you have more?

[bloodyantivan]

Yes. All over my body.

Let me guess. You are more interested in seeing them than with making friendly conversation? [He leans on the counter, elbow on counter, chin in hand.]

[implying]

[ He'd known that was too blunt. It was an altogether terrible, fumble of a line, to begin with. But the alcohol warming his stomach suggests it's not much of a concern — so he offers a shrug, halfheartedly apologetic. ]

You've caught me on, ah, a unique night, and you guess right.