DAY 52: BREAKFAST

[nobleobliged]

How one's body could maintain a waking schedule when sleep came unnaturally and in a room without windows, must surely be a mystery. Yet, as if working on cue, Natalia stirred well before her nurse arrived. That was normal. Less so, the weight that sought to press her eyelids closed again, the heaviness of her limbs that made lifting her hands to

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[scavengerbird]

His second morning. Zevran had become accustomed to waking up alone more often than not in his new line of work, but it didn't stop the room from feeling cold and empty. He held the while walls and sparse furniture accountable. Still, it was nicer than the night, as the oppressive feeling of being stalked had dissipated. It was normal to feel vulnerable to the changing fates, to the fickle life of a Crow, to the tides of Darkspawn, so on and so forth, all while protected only by one mad mage's friendship. But that was a different sort of stress. It was intellectual, he supposed. Worrisome things he was aware of and would like to avoid dying by. By comparison, the last two shadowy nights made him feel like prey. He didn't know what was wrong, only that it most definitely was. It was not as fun being on the receiving end.

So for that, he gave the morning some credit, as disappointing as it was that this whole thing was not a dream. Zevran's luck was not nearly so good for that. For a distraction, he made light conversation with his pretty nurse, who was as patient as a chantry sister, bless her heart. All of his charms, ranging from genuinely friendly to borderline inappropriate, were met with a mature response that completely ignored his implications. By the time they arrived at the dining hall, Zevran was nearly laughing at the absurdity of it.

"Mr. Veslasquez," she interrupted him before he could wax more poetic about her lovely assets and why she deserved to be pampered and adored, never to serve another soul again. "I don't think you'll have any trouble making friends, so why don't you sit here with Mr. Davidson?"

Zevran was ready to concede, but his thoughts were derailed when he got a look at this man. He was a human, to be sure, but he was massive. Most humans towered over their elven counterparts, but this was ridiculous. It took several seconds before Zevran could even acknowledge any other features. Blond, handsome, young, a little unshaven. And tall, did he mention tall? Before Zevran was delivered to him, he had been poking unhappily at a dish that Zevran was sure was Ferelden. No one else would have made something so unappetizingly practical. He had a plate of the things for himself as well.

Zevran recovered in time and took his seat, as his nurse had swiftly escaped him. He would miss her, but the giant was not hard on the eyes, and Zevran was not easily intimidated. He was just a little extra aware around those that were large enough to snap him like a twig. He kept all of his concern directed at the food though, and left only friendliness towards the man in his voice. "Ah, meat wrapped in bread," Zevran said with a heavy dose of mock appreciation. "I guess there is something to be said for... simplicity, no?"

[heroesdontshave]

Snow's interest had been pulled from his food as soon as one of those nurse-guards stopped near him, ready in case she was planning to start some trouble with him. Instead, it looked like she was dropping off the one she was escorting off here... though it seemed like this one went and got his name all wrong, too. He wasn't exactly gonna correct her, though. They probably didn't even care to begin with, and it might be better if they didn't have his real name anyway. But within moments, his attention shifted from the guard to the refugee himself.

Completely oblivious to how it might seem, Snow ended up staring right back at the guy. Something registered as "off" pretty much immediately, and when he saw the ears, he realized why. They were... pointy. Well no, not just pointy. Longer. Stranger. He'd never heard of anything like that happening before. ...Maybe he'd been in an accident? Cause that was the only real explanation. No way was he something not human or some wild savage from Pulse or something crazy like that. The guy didn't look like a maniac. Didn't really look hurt either, but...

He blinked, suddenly realizing the guy had spoken up. He had some kind of weird, unidentifiable accent (Snow'd been meet a lot of those lately), but he definitely didn't sound weird. Not like a barbarian or anything. Sounded pretty friendly, actually. Just some guy as weirded out by the food as he was. So maybe then Snow should do something like, oh I dunno, stop staring. Not like it was the poor guy's fault or anything. SO STOP.

A somewhat sheepish grin spread across his face and he let out a small noise like he was about to start laughing but decided to cut himself short. Maybe if he stayed on topic the guy wouldn't notice and get pissed. "Simplicity, huh? Well. Guess that's one way to put it, if you wanna be nice. Course, it'd be nice if it was edible, too." He scratched the back of his head absently for a moment as though at a complete loss. "Meat in bread supposed to be a local delicacy or somethin'? They sure seem to serve it a lot."

[scavengerbird]

At first, Zevran stared back, taking in the man's obviously confused gaze. Eventually, that same stare grew into a bitterly amused smile, as he realized that the most likely offender was his ears, or perhaps the tattoo. Wherever this young giant came from, elves and tattoos were apparently uncommon. Still, elves were almost everywhere humans were now. Unless he was an exceptionally sheltered noble who spared no thoughts on the alienage, or was from a very isolated village, it was bizarre that he would look at Zevran as though he were, well, bizarre. However, it was certainly less strange than the boy who had been shaking in his boots at the sight of Zevran, and then called him 'lord'. Maybe this truly was a house for the mad after all.

He had that same accent Zevran had been hearing everywhere. Fluent Ferelden, but with a very different sort of twist to it. Not to mention his lack of enthusiasm over bread-in-meat, when Zevran was certain that most of his usual Ferenden-born companions would be inhaling like it was a masterpiece. This human looked like he should have been equally enthused about such a meal. And yet, while his build and voice didn't make Zevran think of cultured delicacy, he was indeed politely disgusted by the food.

"It is amazing what you will consider edible if you're desperate. It seems that whether we like it or not, we must find some, ah, value, in this," Zevran laughed. He took his utensils and experimentally sliced open the bread. What he saw there was not pleasant. It looked soggy where it had come into contact with the sausage, and he didn't bother to disguise the unimpressed face he gave this discovery. "Or we can gamble, and hope that lunch is better. What do you say?"

[heroesdontshave]

Snow curiously leaned forward over the table a little, trying to get a better look as the guy carefully dissected the main course. He had a point. Food was food, right? They should probably just be happy they were being given anything at all. The people here could've just let them all starve for all they cared. So maybe they should just-- That line of thought pretty much died when when he saw the insides of the actual food itself. He winced for a moment then turned a smirk up to his tablemate.

"...Deal." With that, he took one side of his tray and just slid it all the way to the side so it was in front of the empty seat alongside him rather than right there.

"Well, if we're not gonna eat, might as well introduce myself, right? Snow Villiers." The guy thankfully didn't seem to have noticed the whole staring bit, or else he hadn't cared much. Snow wasn't really much one to dwell on things like looks anyway. He did have to wonder if the guy wasn't from around here, though, if he was about as clueless about the local dishes as Snow was. Guess that meant he couldn't enlighten him as to what the hell city this was.

[scavengerbird]

Zevran supposed that Snow suited his name, if you thought about it in wide melodramatic strokes. It was easy to imagine him decked out in furs climbing some far off peak, a rugged warrior of the mountains, or some similar fantasy. It was the height, along with the pale skin and hair, not to mention the chiseled features and boyish smile. Ah yes, a man like this would be the subject of many a young maiden's daydreams, and while Zevran wasn't partial to those silly flights of fancy, he wouldn't refuse the reality. Especially not if it was going to look as good as Snow did. The flimsy uniform they were forced to wear was a bit of a curse, but Zevran couldn't hate it at this moment. It was a great deal more illustrative of what laid beneath it than any armor would have been. Zevran let a small grin show, although he imagined it was unclear what it was about. Perhaps he'd clarify later.

"Oh, it is a pleasure," he replied with that same grin, as it was turning out to be a decent enough morning, all things considered. If he thought too hard about the big picture, it was actually an awful morning which promised an awful week and maybe death, but worrying about that did him no immediate good. If he was distracted by his own misery, he would go nowhere and die a great deal faster. Or, worse, stay alive lingering in depression and fear.

"I'm Zevran. Zevran Arainai, if you'd like the whole thing, but I don't care for it." And at the same time, he mirrored Snow and slid his meal aside. Hopefully their attendants would occupy themselves with younger, more vulnerable looking guests. He and Snow were two healthy looking men who could choose not to eat their... meat pastries if they chose not to. And who could blame them?

[heroesdontshave]

"Heh. Zevran it is, then," he said easily. Hey, he was fine with keeping it casual. Snow wasn't really into the whole formality thing anyway. All that "mister" and "miss" stuff. Made everyone feel like a stranger or something. There was no need for anything like that, especially here. Everyone was stuck in the same mess together, right? Might as well act like it.

"I'm guessing you're not from around here, right? Tried getting a look around outside few nights ago, but it was too dark to make anything out." Actually... he hadn't thought about it until now, but wasn't there something weird about that? Even if you were outside the cities, there was always plenty of light. Nothing like what he'd experienced two nights ago where he could barely see his hand in front of his face. So what did that mean? Where the hell were they? "Hear anything about where they stuck this place?"

[scavengerbird]

Zevran shrugged lightly, and summoned up an apologetic smile. It was disappointing that Snow was as clueless as he was when it came to identifying the location of their prison. Information had not been Zevran's original goal, but he wouldn't have minded stumbling upon some of it. He'd need to quiz those in this History Club later if he wanted to get a better grip on his unfortnate situation. He didn't yet know what they did with their time, but hoped that part of it involved snooping around for long periods of time so that Zevran himself didn't need to do quite so much of his own.

However, that would all depend upon how reliable they ended up being. Zevran was optimistically realistic about the whole thing.

"Afraid not, my friend," he sighed. "I have only seen the outside from the inside, where I spotted a great deal of trees. Unfortunately, trees are a rather widely spread type of flora." Zevran tapped his nails on the table as he considered his next words. "I do not even know what kingdom we're in, but I imagine it must be a close neighbor of Ferelden. The ones who work here all speak as you do, so maybe you are closer to home than you think."