rowan "oh shit" cousland. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
trudge) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2017-11-27 12:08 pm
trudge) wrote in driftfleet2017-11-27 12:08 pm
if you love me let me go (OPEN)
Who: Rowan Cousland and all the unfortunate souls he might run into
Broadcast: Text
Action: The Bishop, The Iskaulit, Probably everywhere else he's allowed.
When: Anytime after 11/23
It's been a little over a week since they returned to Orbit, and apparently that is too long for Rowan Cousland to be sober and left to his own devices. Zevran is around, and there are a few others who 'visit' his blanket-fort bedroom for idle romps. But none of them keep the nagging voice in the back of his head at bay. No amount of mind-blowing sex or company of any sort keeps him from thinking of everything that's happened. It was easier on the planet to forget, to not think about anything because there were cannibals to kill and people to protect. No time to think. No time to remember. No time to regret.
He had time now, though. Too much. Back home he never regretted anything he did, not even dying, but that had been easier when death was the last and final thing that came. Now, he was alive again, with the knowledge that his brother was alive and left alone. Once he had been the last Cousland. Now it was Fergus, and it was his fault. And Zevran —
No. He needed to forget. He needed a distraction. He needed alcohol.
Soooo much alcohol.
GUESS WHO'S DRUNK? I guess Rowan.
He starts off at The Space Bar simply because it had the word 'bar' in it. He's there every night for at least a week, for hours on end taking shot after shot and mug after mug of whatever he can shove down his throat. He doesn't have a lot of money on hand, but he has a silver tongue, crafty hands, and enough charisma to charm the fuck out of some other patrons if necessary.
He flirts with everyone of legal age and the more he drinks the more ridiculous he becomes. Which is saying a lot, because he's ridiculous to begin with.
If he recognizes someone, they're approached almost immediately by a likely inebriated Rowan — a drink in his hand and the most fake smile you've ever seen in your life. He pulls it off though, somehow. Years of practice? Definitely. He unceremoniously slams his drink on the table, sloshing whatever liquid is inside around onto the wood.
"Fancy meeting you here." He says with all the eloquence of a completely shitfaced sailor. "Buy a girl a drink?" But he already has a drink, you say? Rowan downs the remainder of his alcohol in one long swig, shaking his head afterwards as the fire hits his throat. Anyway, buy a girl a drink?
Alternatively, for those he doesn't recognize so easily — no, nevermind, there's no alternatively. He's doing the same thing.
He eventually migrates to Malum at some point, already drunk and probably kicked out for a) starting (finishing) a fight, b) hitting on the waitstaff, c) peeing in a corner, or d) all of the above. The neon lights are pretty and distracting; just what he needs during this long bender he's secretly hoping might end with him in a coma.
He tries to behave a little better despite his absolutely piss poor state of being, but it's all for not when he spots the beautiful shiny pole on the dancefloor. After asking around a bit on the true purpose of the pole, Rowan decides he's going to use it for its intended purpose. He shoves some broody nerd leaning against it - trying to chat up some uninterested woman. have some class - and promptly sheds his shirt, garnering the attention of everyone nearby. Disgusted? Intrigued? Slightly aroused? All solid responses to an inebriated man shimmying up an down the pole. He's not a great poledancer, but he's flexible and nice to look at?
THE BISHOP
Most of the time Rowan passes out in someone else's room, or in the hallway on some ship (the Bishop, the Iskaulit, somewhere else??), and it's only if he's really lucky that he ends up back in his own room. Even through a haze of alcohol the sight of the blanket fort still, for whatever reason, always seems to upset him. He remembers him and Zevran excitedly building it together, he remembers telling him that he and Fergus used to do this, and then he remembers the knowledge that set all of this off in the first place.
He should be happy. And he is! He's fucking ecstatic to hear that his brother is alive. But Rowan isn't. Rowan pissed his potential future away when he decided to be a hero. He throws the small bottle in his hand clear across the room, shattering it and letting the remaining contents trickle down the wall. It looks like blood - red, seeping blood that reminds him of home in the worst possible way.
He should be happy, but he isn't. Second chances don't matter if you piss them away, too. Lying and faking your way through them like you did the first time. He's pathetic.
TEXT
ANYONE DTF? ??? ?????? ?????? [ That's it. ]
( OOC: feel free to decide how drunk you want rowan to be when you meet him/when during his bender it is. or just wing it. if you want a specific scenario hmu @![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
winemom and we can discuss something! C: also you can switch to brackets if you want. )
Broadcast: Text
Action: The Bishop, The Iskaulit, Probably everywhere else he's allowed.
When: Anytime after 11/23
It's been a little over a week since they returned to Orbit, and apparently that is too long for Rowan Cousland to be sober and left to his own devices. Zevran is around, and there are a few others who 'visit' his blanket-fort bedroom for idle romps. But none of them keep the nagging voice in the back of his head at bay. No amount of mind-blowing sex or company of any sort keeps him from thinking of everything that's happened. It was easier on the planet to forget, to not think about anything because there were cannibals to kill and people to protect. No time to think. No time to remember. No time to regret.
He had time now, though. Too much. Back home he never regretted anything he did, not even dying, but that had been easier when death was the last and final thing that came. Now, he was alive again, with the knowledge that his brother was alive and left alone. Once he had been the last Cousland. Now it was Fergus, and it was his fault. And Zevran —
No. He needed to forget. He needed a distraction. He needed alcohol.
Soooo much alcohol.
GUESS WHO'S DRUNK? I guess Rowan.
He starts off at The Space Bar simply because it had the word 'bar' in it. He's there every night for at least a week, for hours on end taking shot after shot and mug after mug of whatever he can shove down his throat. He doesn't have a lot of money on hand, but he has a silver tongue, crafty hands, and enough charisma to charm the fuck out of some other patrons if necessary.
He flirts with everyone of legal age and the more he drinks the more ridiculous he becomes. Which is saying a lot, because he's ridiculous to begin with.
If he recognizes someone, they're approached almost immediately by a likely inebriated Rowan — a drink in his hand and the most fake smile you've ever seen in your life. He pulls it off though, somehow. Years of practice? Definitely. He unceremoniously slams his drink on the table, sloshing whatever liquid is inside around onto the wood.
"Fancy meeting you here." He says with all the eloquence of a completely shitfaced sailor. "Buy a girl a drink?" But he already has a drink, you say? Rowan downs the remainder of his alcohol in one long swig, shaking his head afterwards as the fire hits his throat. Anyway, buy a girl a drink?
Alternatively, for those he doesn't recognize so easily — no, nevermind, there's no alternatively. He's doing the same thing.
He eventually migrates to Malum at some point, already drunk and probably kicked out for a) starting (finishing) a fight, b) hitting on the waitstaff, c) peeing in a corner, or d) all of the above. The neon lights are pretty and distracting; just what he needs during this long bender he's secretly hoping might end with him in a coma.
He tries to behave a little better despite his absolutely piss poor state of being, but it's all for not when he spots the beautiful shiny pole on the dancefloor. After asking around a bit on the true purpose of the pole, Rowan decides he's going to use it for its intended purpose. He shoves some broody nerd leaning against it - trying to chat up some uninterested woman. have some class - and promptly sheds his shirt, garnering the attention of everyone nearby. Disgusted? Intrigued? Slightly aroused? All solid responses to an inebriated man shimmying up an down the pole. He's not a great poledancer, but he's flexible and nice to look at?
THE BISHOP
Most of the time Rowan passes out in someone else's room, or in the hallway on some ship (the Bishop, the Iskaulit, somewhere else??), and it's only if he's really lucky that he ends up back in his own room. Even through a haze of alcohol the sight of the blanket fort still, for whatever reason, always seems to upset him. He remembers him and Zevran excitedly building it together, he remembers telling him that he and Fergus used to do this, and then he remembers the knowledge that set all of this off in the first place.
He should be happy. And he is! He's fucking ecstatic to hear that his brother is alive. But Rowan isn't. Rowan pissed his potential future away when he decided to be a hero. He throws the small bottle in his hand clear across the room, shattering it and letting the remaining contents trickle down the wall. It looks like blood - red, seeping blood that reminds him of home in the worst possible way.
He should be happy, but he isn't. Second chances don't matter if you piss them away, too. Lying and faking your way through them like you did the first time. He's pathetic.
TEXT
ANYONE DTF? ??? ?????? ?????? [ That's it. ]
( OOC: feel free to decide how drunk you want rowan to be when you meet him/when during his bender it is. or just wing it. if you want a specific scenario hmu @
no subject
He shouldn't have done this. Touching Zevran only made it so much harder to let him go, to finally admit that they can't do this anymore because he hurts so much thinking about all the things they could have been. All the things they might have tried to be, that will never happen because he was an idiot. He's an idiot!
"Okay." And yet he's weak, so weak. So tired. Zevran smells like home, feels like home, and he wants it so bad and yet he knows he can't have it. Rowan doesn't know how many people he's slept with in the past few days, but he knows that he can't remember most of their faces or their names because in the end they don't matter. They were just a means to an end — a way to try and forget what would inevitably come back to bite him in the ass. The warmth of Zevran's arms around him, the lilt of an accent in is voice.
"Do you hate me?" He asks as he settles down onto the pile of blankets and pillows, face buried in one of the latter.
no subject
With Rowan's arm over his shoulder he finally moves. He is still silent as he moves to the blankets and pillows that still lie scattered on the floor. Zevran doesn't lie down with him. He sits on a cushion next to him, one hand holding his, and another moves his hair from his face. He hopes that Rowan just passes out and forgets this all in the morning, but then he speaks and Zevran feels his heart sink down into his stomach.
"What?" There is disbelief in his voice. How could Rowan even think to ask that? He tries to think just what could have brought this one, and what he did to cause such thoughts. I love you, how could I hate you? He should say that, put to rest any second thought the man might have, but he doesn't. Because he's isn't even sure what love is, and he knows Rowan doesn't want it. "Of course I don't."
no subject
"You should." It would be so much easier if he did. Rowan pulls the elf's hand to his lips, kisses his knuckles softly and closes his eyes. He's making it worse. He needs to stop. Push him away and don't let this go any further. "I fucked up, Zevran. I fucked up everything and I can't fix it. I thought I was doing the right thing — did I do the right thing? "
no subject
"I..." His eyes open once more and flicker to the floor. He doesn't know the answer to that. "You saved the world, Rowan." That's the right thing. They would all be dead if not for him, but for Zevran-- well, his world ended that day.
"I'm a selfish man." His frown turns to a hollow, melancholy smile. "I'd rather you have lived." At least then Zevran wouldn't have had to find his body in the rubble, or have his heart ripped out each night and morning when he realises that this isn't a dream. That Rowan really was dead and no amount of praying, or begging, or killing Darkspawn would bring him back. At least if he lived, they could have died together.
no subject
A hope he will surely squander when he says: "I didn't have to die. There was — I could have lived. We all could have, if I had taken Morrigan up on her offer." Did he know about that? He couldn't have. Rowan never told him, never told anyone because it was too risky, too dangerous. It was easier to just let himself die.
no subject
He's never heard this before. He had been under the impression that it had to be a Grey Warden, and that whoever dealt the final blow had to die. Sure it could have been Alistair, or the one from Orlais, but Rowan wouldn't allow anyone else to do the deed.
"What do you mean? What offer?" He hunches over to lean down. Maybe he misheard him. Surely such a thing would not be possible. Even if it was, Rowan would have taken the offer to live-- right?
no subject
He was wrong. And he regretted it now, only because he was given this second chance. If there was a Maker and if he was merciful, he was not granting Rowan Cousland any of it in this moment. "I ruined any chance I had for —" For. He doesn't finish.
no subject
"Why didn't you tell me?" His voice is a whisper as he speak. Any louder and his voice will crack and show his weakness. He's trying so hard to keep the feelings of his heart shattering down, but still he feels water welling in his eyes. He didn't even cry when Rinna died, he didn't think he could from all the hardships in his life. It's getting harder to push those annoying feelings of worthless down. Did Rowan really care so little for his life? For him and whatever it was between them? Maybe he had been wrong in his hopes for something.
"Why didn't you you take it?" His voice raises a little as his hold on his hand tightens. "You could have lived. We could have--" He stops himself. He can't finish that thought either.
no subject
"You would have stopped me." He doesn't know that for certain, but he has a feeling. Maybe not Zevran specifically, but someone would have tried to stop him. How he worded it at the time though, made it seem like there wasn't an option. He had to die — end of story. And they accepted it, just like they accepted everything else he did.
He thinks he hears the faint crack in Zevran's voice. Is he imagining it? Does some sadistic, selfish part of him want Zevran to cry because it means he feels something for him in return? "It was dark magic, blood magic, something I couldn't condone. I was - I am a Grey Warden, it was my duty to end the Blight as it should have been ended. So I did it." There hadn't been a reason to stay, at least not one that he knew of. But he ones of at least one now, and he can hear the lingering hints of something in the elf's voice.
"I thought I had nothing else to live for. But I was wrong, because I had you and everyone else, and I had Fergus but I didn't even know it. I had so much but I was stupid. I was blind, and I deserve none of it now."
no subject
His eyes glaze over into a lightless stare. If this is his punishment for all the sins in his life, he would rather have death. He would take a painful, agonizing death 50 times over than deal with the pain he feels right now.
"Did nothing hold meaning to you?" His voice is hollow as his grip on Rowan's hand loosens. "I would have given you everything." Rowan was a fool to thing any less, or maybe Zevran was the fool. He had chances to tell Rowan how he felt, numerous ones, but he had been too scared.
"I still would." His head falls to his chest. His hair falls into his face as his eyes cloud over. He can't see clearly, but he doesn't blink because he knows he won't be able to stop himself. "I'm such a fool."
no subject
But he did feel. He felt a lot of things he thought he didn't have a right to. The butterflies in his stomach, the way his heart thumped when he looked at the elf and when Zevran looked back at him. He feels him loosen his grip and he thinks he's finally done it — he's lost him, let him go, but Rowan is weak and he instinctively tries to snatch it back anyway. Weak. Selfish. Stupid.
Zevran's admission should bring him some amount of comfort, but it doesn't. It just hurts. At least before he could convince himself that, even if they did not want him to die, no one would suffer for it. But it sounded like — looked like — Zevran was suffering now. And it was his fault. If he had known beforehand, if someone had told him or convinced him to stop being a fucking idiot for five seconds this wouldn't be happening. He reaches up with his other hand and brushes back the curtain of gold, whispering. He shouldn't say it. He should stop. It's fine if he suffers — but it's not fine if Zevran does.
"You're not. If anyone is a fool, it's me." He murmurs, brushing his fingers across that tattooed cheek. "You don't have to give me everything. I just want — I just want you here. I don't deserve a second chance, but..." He trails off, unsure if he wants to continue.
no subject
He stops when the last words comes out. Home. That could refer to him dying, or him not coming back to his room-- their room for a week. He would rather be out and about with others, getting drunk and whispering sweet things in their ears instead of his own. The fact that Rowan did these things never really bothered him back home, mostly because Zevran was always close by and at least then Rowan invited him along. But to just leave, not tell him where he was going, and then to come back days later in this state...
He really can't judge, and he doesn't. Because he's done the same things before, but it didn't stop the pain he felt when it makes him think how replaceable this makes him feel.
He takes a few deep breaths before he processes what in the hell is happening right now. He can't help but tilt his head into Rowan's hand when he feels those warm fingers against his skin. Maker, he is so weak to this man.
"I told you before, Rowan. I will not ask for more than you will give." He feels his voice cracking once more. "Please amor," His voice is a plead now. For him to understand what he feels. He can't say it, he doesn't know how to explain it, but it's breaking him. "Do you see a future for us here?"
no subject
But it did matter. He really is a fool for not seeing that sooner. Something roils in his gut and he thinks it might just be vomit at this point; his body wanting to reject all the bile that comes with feeling anything so intense as he is now. But it's not that. It's pain — a pain that surges up to his chest and coils around his heart, tightening and tightening the more he watches and listens to the other man's reaction to what he says.
"I will give you everything." He says, repeating Zevran's own words back at him. He doesn't have much to give at this point, save for this second life he was given in space. Rowan curls his fingers against the back of the elf's neck. "I want there to be a future for us." He wants it to be back home though. He wants to go back and take Morrigan up on her offer and end this suffering. He never wants to see Zevran like this again — especially not because of something he did. He can't do that, though, but maybe he can do something here. Would that be worse? He doesn't know.
"I don't want to let you go a second time."
no subject
He feels the pressure start to leave his chest, the weight on his heart lifts, and for the first time in quite awhile he feels...hope? He doesn't know how else to describe it. He doesn't blame Rowan for being foolish, Zevran was making equally horrible decisions. Maybe he should learn how to actually talk about his feelings instead of just assume.
"Nor I you." They have this chance, this one last time to make things right. He won't let this end in regret. His head dips down, his hair curtailing around both their faces as he leans and presses his lips to Rowan's forehead. "Sleep and we will talk more later."
no subject
The kiss is warm, sweet, better than he deserves and what he thinks will happen. He almost expects Zevran to say nothing and walk away from him. He's breaking this arrangement they made — that unsaid promise to not incorporate feelings into this thing they had. But Zevran seems... okay with it? More than okay with it. He closes his eyes, turns his head so his cheek presses against the elf's thigh, and promptly passes out.
no subject
He keeps still and silent until he hears his breathing change, and a light snoring. Good. He's a sleep. A long exhaled leaves him, enough that his whole body shakes. He wants to just curl in on himself, but instead his head tilts back and his cloudy eyes clear as silent streams fall down his cheeks. He doesn't remember the last time he cried, he honestly didn't think he knew how to still. At least he held it in until it was safe to show such weakness.
His arm wipes across his face once and the tears stop. If he never feels that again in his life it would be too soon. When he knows Rowan will not wake up, he shifts and places a pillow under his head. He needs some time alone and away from this room.