crowkiller: (pic#10588751)
Zevran Arainai ([personal profile] crowkiller) wrote in [community profile] driftfleet2017-11-04 07:14 pm

Can't spell 'fun' without cannibals!

Who: Zevran and you
Broadcast: Nah
Action: Arrival on the Hell Planet
When: Right now

Closed To Rowan

[A lot has happened in the whirlwind of him arriving. The oddly calming music, the strange and colorful paper that falls from the ceiling, and the pudding. It's doesn't really fit the burnt and destroyed atmosphere that this metal vessel is giving off. He didn't except to see a dead man walk up to him. He didn't expect his heart to surge with emotions as they kissed, touched, and spoke as only lovers would back to the bedroom.

The fact that Rowan was here made things a lot easier. Rowan knew some things about this place, but they were both learning together. Like right now, as they stalked through the dense forest, moving in the shadows trying not to make themselves out to be targets.]


Why do people eat others?

[Zevran is thinking out loud as he moves with careful footsteps. Maybe this isnt the best time to be talking about such a strange subject but...]

I mean-- I feel like humans wouldn't taste very good. Or elves for that matter. Most of us are so lanky to begin with, we must not have much meat on our bones. But do you think they just look at other people and instead of thinking 'wow, what a beautiful person, I want to fuck them.' Do they think 'I want to eat them'?


Fine elven crafts OTA

[Being an assassin, Zevran doesn't like it when he doesn't have weapons. While anything can be a weapon in his hands, he prefers his blades, his poisons, and his arrows. He doesn't have any of those right now, and the things on the ship were just not the best at what he needed them to do. Lucky for him, he remembered his time with the Dalish, even if it had been rather quick. He saw how they made their tools, how difficult could that be?

Turns out, very.

Zevran is struggling over some twine that he found. It's not the best bow string but its what he has right now. He takes a large piece of wood that he has found lying in the dirt somewhere, and with one end on the ground he tries to curve it by bending and trying the twine to it. It works for a moment, but then the wood breaks, the twine snaps in his face and with a yelp he falls back and holds his sting face.

New plan. Get his weapons back.]

 
trudge: (pic#11817443)

[personal profile] trudge 2017-11-12 04:39 pm (UTC)(link)
[ It's not Zevran's fault. It's his own for being stupid, for thinking no one would care that he died in the battle with the Archdemon. It's his own fault for not actively trying to find his brother — but he didn't have time. He and his party had so many places to go, so many things to do, that going back to try and find some hint of Fergus was ultimately out of the question. Maybe, subconsciously, he was just too scared to do it, too. What would he do if he actually found him dead? Wouldn't that have been worse? He doesn't know. All of this is shit and he hates it and now he's subjecting Zevran to it and he doesn't deserve it.

They're supposed to be fuckbuddies, friends with benefits, whatever else you want to call it and yet here he is crying on him like a baby. And Zevran's accepting it, comforting him despite pains in a wound he just recently suffered and he's kissing him and Rowan hates it. He hates this.

And yet he doesn't move away. In fact, he's hooking his own arms around the elf now and keeping him close. Zevran has always understood him, always been his companion in the ways of emotional-bullshit they choose to ignore. Fingers clutch at the back of his shirt, desperately like it's the only lifeline he has anymore and he's so scared that if he leaves him now he will just wither and die. Zevran is so good to him and what did he do? He left him. He fucking left him and the others and it's all coming to him now — an epiphany he never wanted and never asked for. ]


I'm sorry. [ Sorry for dying. Sorry for this. Sorry for everything he's ever done. ]
trudge: (pic#11817419)

[personal profile] trudge 2017-11-12 06:13 pm (UTC)(link)
Maybe not, but I truly am sorry. I never meant for it to be like this. [ The words are so vague he could be talking about anything. He never meant to leave the world as he did, he never meant to hurt anyone because he was too stupid to realize that they actually gave a shit about him and would miss him when he was gone. And he never, never meant to subject Zevran to this. The assassin had his own problems, he didn't need a grown man crying on him when they were only meant to please each other physically.

It's so clear there's something more here, but Rowan doesn't think he deserves more than what he's getting. Hell, he doesn't even deserve this, but he won't say that, lest Zevran reconsider all of the comfort he's given him so far. Rowan seems to settle a little, leaning into the elf with his arms still wrapped around him. The tears have stopped but his head remains resting against his shoulder, his breathing quiet and slow. Zevran is so warm, so inviting, so calming. He smells like wood and leather and home. He is home, here in his arms. ]


Let's just stay here tonight.
trudge: (pic#11863213)

[personal profile] trudge 2017-11-13 11:30 pm (UTC)(link)
Don't say that. I might never let you leave.

[ Things like that should be evidence enough that he feels something beyond the mutual agreement of carnal pleasures. Of course he's also so well versed in sarcasm and dry humor that it could very well be a joke as well. But they both know, deep down in the pit of their hearts where they keep their secrets. Their unsaid words that find themselves intermingled with teasing and jokes.

Rowan follows the motion easily, ending with his head resting against Zevran's chest and his arms still wrapped around him. The rhythmic beat of his heart mirrors his own, soothes him more than it should. Now would be the perfect time to tell him how he feels, to tell him all his regrets and how he wishes he could see the future, see what could have been.

Instead, he lets his eyes shut, his breathing slow. Better to dream than to admit so much aloud. ]