Geese in Spring, Part II: Identity [4/?]
anonymous
June 29 2010, 00:58:24 UTC
Devin complied, settling down near the water's edge, but his mind was racing as he did so. Damnation. A new Warden wouldn't have had time to have gone the length and breadth of Ferelden several times over. Stupid. "Well... perhaps I'm exaggerating, just a little," he said, forcing himself to smile, "but I stand by what I said, all the same."
"Well, now," the elf laughed, seemingly amused by Devin's directness, "I suppose I should be flattered, then. And, as the saying goes, flattery will get you everywhere." He flashed the Warden a grin before ducking under the water.
The end of the exchange came as a relief to the Warden. He still hadn't made mention to the Dalish of his proper rank; it was refreshing, and, he suspected, a great deal less stressful, to not be treated as "the Hero of Ferelden" or "the Warden Commander". And, he had to admit to himself, it was particularly nice not to be flirted with solely because of his position. He had had any number of noblewomen (and a few men, to be sure) vying for his attentions at court, to say nothing of past acquaintances from the Circle trying to rekindle old flames because of his new status, or the occasional servant looking to curry his favor. He certainly had nothing against a bit of fun for pleasure's sake, but he would not be used as a trophy or a stepping-stone. Not again.
With that rule in place, his evenings had been rather quiet in the past several months. There had been one last, intoxicated night with Alistair before his coronation and wedding, and then an occasional tryst here and there with other Grey Wardens and members of the guard, but those never happened more than once. His position being what it was, Devin did not want to give the impression that he might be playing favorites, or that his approval could be bought with sex.
One of the Orlesian Wardens, a mage, had tried such a thing, but her very persistence had been a turn-off even before Devin had caught wind of her scheming. It was no secret that he hadn't wanted to be Commander of the Grey, but he'd accepted the duty as a favor to the King and the nobles of Ferelden, who would not stand for an Orlesian commander. Nevertheless, the woman, Eugenie, had set about trying to be named as Devin's Second, in the hope that he would eventually step down. The whole affair had annoyed Devin mightily, and he had sent the mage back to Orlais with a blistering reprimand about behavior unbecoming of the order. The other Orlesian Wardens had cooled considerably towards him after that, but as long as they did not try to work against him, he didn't much care. He wasn't there to be liked, after all.
Too bad, though. Maker, but that woman knew some wicked things... Shaking his head slightly to dispel the memories, he turned his attention back to his present companion, who was singing under his breath as he worked his fingers through his fine blonde hair. The elf was turned away from Devin at the moment, and the Warden took the opportunity to enjoy the sight of water sluicing down that well-muscled back.
When had he last been with an elf? Back while he was still an apprentice, he realized, in the Tower. Not that there were so very many differences between humans and elves, particularly when it came to sex, but there were some few things that he would keep in mind -- provided they were ever needed, of course. Perhaps Zevran's flirtation was all talk, and he had no intention of ever letting the shem touch him. Would serve me right for getting my hopes up, the Warden thought sardonically.
After several more minutes, Zevran finally emerged from the water, catching the towel Devin tossed at him as he approached. He dried himself off in a cursory fashion, pulled on smallclothes and a pair of doeskin trousers, and sprawled out next to the mage, stretching with almost indecent pleasure before laying back with his hands behind his head.
The Warden watched this show -- for it was most certainly a display for his benefit -- with a faint smirk. "Feeling clean?" he asked, choosing his wording quite deliberately.
Of course, Zevran knew it, and there was laughter in his eyes as he looked up at the mage. "For now. Until I find myself feeling dirty, at least."
Geese in Spring, Part II: Identity [5/?]
anonymous
July 1 2010, 20:38:12 UTC
omg they won't stop talking T_T I want to say, "almost done with this part!" but... not so sure.
Also there will be sexin's in this story, I promise. XD;
Devin's smirk widened into a grin. "I suppose we'll have to avoid that at all costs, then, won't we?" he drawled.
"Hmm..." The elf made a noncommittal sound, his amber eyes still bright. He looked speculatively at Devin, as if trying to gauge the actual level of interest behind all of the teasing.
As tempting as it was to try to encourage that line of thought, the Warden knew it would only lead to frustration right now, if it even got so far. He reluctantly decided to steer the subject back to his earlier question. "Perhaps, to that end, we should pursue some other topic of conversation, ser?" he asked with mock formality.
Zevran smiled, although he seemed to tense slightly at the mage's words. Devin, inwardly alarmed at the sudden shift, would have tried to lighten the mood again, but the elf began to speak before he had the chance.
"Ah, you asked me a question before we were distracted by cleanliness, yes?" He looked away from Devin, up at the thin veil of leaves overhead.
"Only if you want to answer it," the mage replied. He would be the last person to demand the details of someone else's life history, and he hardly expected Zevran's tale to be a happy one. "It's just... idle curiosity on my part, nothing more."
"Oh, I have nothing to hide," Zevran said airily. "Most of the others could tell you any of this, as well."
Again, that sense of dissonance, of not being one of "the others". Devin put on a wry grin, not wanting the mood to be ruined entirely. "As someone who's done a fair bit of research, I prefer primary sources when I can find them."
"That is an excellent policy, I think," the elf said with an answering grin. "Hmm, what was it exactly you asked? What brought me here? That is simple enough: I ran away from my previous situation." He did not say family, or home, the Warden noted, but he did not interrupt to ask about it. "That, however, happened not here in Ferelden, but to the north, in fair Antiva."
"Antiva?" Devin echoed in surprise. Well, that explained Zevran's curious accent and patterns of speech, at least. "But how--"
"--Did I come to be here?" Zevran smiled faintly. "A suggestion from my first foster-clan that I might be safer here, far away from my... roots. Apparently, it isn't unheard of for lone Dalish to wander far afield, particularly if there has been some personal tragedy or conflict in their clan -- to escape old memories and so on, I suppose." He shrugged philosophically. "Of course, by now I think perhaps they simply wanted to be rid of me, without wishing me any real harm. Whatever the case, they did help me make my way here by sea."
Devin simply nodded as the elf told his story; the hunter's recital was so matter-of-fact that it almost sounded like something that had happened to someone else. Perhaps it had, in a way, but the mage got the impression that Zevran hadn't changed so very much from his pre-Dalish self, which was probably the root of his problems with the clan.
"It was a relatively small matter to find a wandering clan, once I arrived in this country," the hunter continued, gazing up towards the sky. "Now, Dalish everywhere are impatient with we 'flat-ears' -- city elves, yes? -- and I had little to offer besides my skill with bow and blade, but this clan generously took me in, all the same." He spread his arms wide, a gesture encompassing the forest around them. "And here I am."
Geese in Spring, Part II: Identity [6/8]
anonymous
July 2 2010, 19:46:07 UTC
Writeanon apologizes profusely for this long and boring chapter, but the background info, it wanted out. That should be the end of that, however.
Meanwhile, captcha says "deviated diamond"... I like it, but I do not understand it.
There were, Devin knew, a great many things missing from this tale. Zevran's expression, when he turned back to the mage, was open, as if expecting, even inviting questions, but the Warden hardly knew where to begin. Finally, he seized on one of the hunter's last remarks. "If the clan saw your skill with weapons, it's no wonder they accepted you," he began, "you'd certainly be an asset... But if you didn't learn your skills among the Dalish, then when...?"
In the Alienages of Ferelden, Devin had discovered, elves were discouraged from taking up weapons by both their human and elven neighbors; the former wanted no threat of insubordination or revolt on their hands, and the latter simply wished to avoid drawing attention. Perhaps things were more relaxed in Antiva... but somehow the mage doubted it.
"Ah." Zevran smiled thinly. "You've gone straight for the throat, my dear Warden, though I suppose I'd expect no less." He rolled onto his side, propping his head up on his hand, and watched the other man intently as he spoke. "I imagine you have heard of the Antivan Crows?"
Devin's eyes widened in astonishment before he could check the reaction. An assassin... That explained several things -- the elf's combat skills, of course, but also his knowledge of herbalism (that went hand-in-hand with poison, didn't it?). The Warden wondered if it was yet another reason some of the Dalish didn't approve of the hunter. But he didn't seem to be so very old, and he spoke of the clan as if he'd been here for years... how much assassin work could he have done?
The elf smirked at Devin's surprise, but there was a hint of bitterness there. "You have, I see. That was what I sought to escape, my friend."
"Escape?" It seemed odd, to have to escape one's employers, but then the mage thought of his own escape from the Tower at Kinloch Hold. Of course, entering the Grey Wardens wasn't much of an escape, but it was still better than being at the mercy of the Templars...
"Mmm. Most of the Crows are little more than slaves, you see. They buy them young, raise them to know nothing but murder. If you survive the training and become a full assassin... Well, you still belong to the House of Crows. You don't think they would take it lightly if we walked away with all of their secrets, not to mention all the wasted years and investment of training, hmm?" Zevran's tone was light as he casually explained something with such terrible implications; his gaze still rested on the mage, watching him for areaction.
"They would have hunted you down," Devin murmured, thinking it over. "Either to drag you back, or..."
"Or to kill me as a poor investment, yes," the elf confirmed wih a nod. "Usually the former, in cases like this. After all, anyone who wishes to run away presumably wants to live, yes? Maybe they even hope they can try to run again, later. I'd never seen it happen, myself, but it was said that anyone who tried such a thing too often would be killed. Too much of a waste of valuable time constantly trying to recover them, you see."
That did remind the Warden entirely too much of the Tower, and he wondered for a moment if the Crows had anything equivalent to making a mage Tranquil. Breaking an assassin's spirit in some way, such that he would still be useful as a killer? He shuddered slightly, the thought of the Rite of Tranquility unsettling him as it always did.
Zevran raised an eyebrow at this reaction, but before he could inquire, Devin pressed on with another question. "So... the Dalish would have been a safe haven." When the elf nodded in agreement, he asked, "But what made you think to seek them out? Like you said, they don't have much love for city elves..."
Geese in Spring, Part II: Identity [7/8]
anonymous
July 2 2010, 19:47:21 UTC
"Well." The hunter smiled ruefully. "Perhaps it was proof of how young I still was, then, regardless of the training I'd been through. My mother was Dalish, you see, or so said the whores who raised me." He caught Devin's startled look, and those golden eyes dared him to say something, but the mage held his tongue for now, and simply nodded. "I suppose," Zevran continued, "some... sentimental part of me held to that thought, that I was half-Dalish. Perhaps I hoped that the true Dalish would be able to tell, somehow... or that they would remember my mother -- who left her clan to marry a city elf, can you imagine? -- and would accept me as long-lost kin. Foolish notions, no?"
The Warden shook his head. He noted that Zevran had made no other mention of his parents; he seemed to have been raised an orphan, much as Devin himself was. That being the case, the mage thought he understood the hint of wistfulness in Zevran's voice, even as the elf chided himself for being naive. To have a home, to belong somewhere, was probably a dream every orphan held deep in their heart, whether they were willing to acknowledge it or not. He didn't think Zevran wanted to speak of such things, though, or not right now, at any rate, so he said simply, "It's not foolish," and looked at the other man to continue.
Zevran regarded him curiously for a moment before pressing on. "The clan I found did not know my mother, or at least, said they did not, and were not much moved by my claim of kinship. But I made myself useful, and they agreed to shelter me... at least for a while. And that," he finished, making a gesture of summation with his free hand, "was that."
Devin smiled slightly. "That was considerably more interesting than you led me to believe, ser." He still had questions -- dozens of them, at this point -- but he had the impression that the elf was tired of talking for the time being.
"Ah? I am glad my little recital did not bore you to tears, my dear Warden." Zevran's smile seemed a bit more genuine this time. "But I do seem to have taken up more time than I'd planned for a simple bath. Perhaps we'd best return to camp before full dark."
The sun had indeed sunk below the trees; Devin had hardly noticed nightfall gradually creeping up on them. "Hmm, yes. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to keep you so long," he said in apology.
Zevran chuckled as he rose to his feet, holding out a hand to pull Devin up with him. "Don't be sorry, feel free to monopolize me whenever -- or however -- you'd like," the hunter said in a tone meant to stir the blood, and a glint in his amber eyes to match as he met the Warden's gaze. Devin, used to having the upper hand in these sorts of challenges, was forced to look away first, unwilling to fully engage in such a contest in his current condition. Zevran laughed outright in his apparent victory, and while the Warden usually hated losing at any game, he found himself thinking that against some opponents, perhaps it wasn't such a terrible thing.
Geese in Spring, Part II: Identity [8/8]
anonymous
July 2 2010, 19:51:31 UTC
As they approached the camp, they heard a deep, booming bark, the voice of a very large canine. Zevran tensed instinctively, expecting an attack, but next to him, Devin raised a hand as the barks grew higher in pitch, more hopeful than menacing.
"Aestan!" the man called. In a moment something came barreling down the path towards them, an enormous shape that soon resolved itself into a brindled mabari hound. The dog halted right in front of Devin, barking excitedly.
"Hush," the mage admonished, unable to hold back a smile. The hound complied, his docked tail stub wagging furiously as Devin scratched his ears vigorously with his good hand. "How did you get here?"
"Is that... a mabari?" Zevran asked, eyeing the dog intently. Devin looked at him curiously before replying.
"Yes, of course -- what else is so big and dumb and loud?" Aestan whined plaintively at the unkind remark. "Oh, you know I don't really mean that, you great brute."
Some things were falling into place for the hunter just then. "You don't seem overly surprised to see him."
"We left him in Tarleton, before we entered the forest," the Warden said quietly. "He's excellent in battle, of course -- Darkspawn don't faze him a bit -- but we knew we were looking for a band that had proven impossible to defeat so far..."
Zevran nodded slightly at this explanation, glancing up at Devin from the corner of his eye. "Finhavil took your letter to Tarleton, yes? Perhaps he brought him back?" The Dalish youth had been sent to the nearby village with a message from Devin to be sent on to Denerim, about the Darkspawn attack and the loss of the other Wardens.
"Ah... maybe so. I suppose we'll find out, hmm?" The mage called the dog to heel, and the creature obeyed with alacrity, padding next to his master as if there was nothing else in all the world he'd rather do. But of course, dogs were like that, and Zevran supposed that mabari might be even moreso.
The mabari, he'd learned since coming to Ferelden, belonged almost exclusively to human nobles, and in truth, poorer masters might not have had the resources to feed such massive beasts. On top of that, the mabari supposedly imprinted onto individuals, devoting themselves entirely to one master. For a mage to have such a creature -- to have been chosen by one -- was incredible.
But within the past year, Zevran had heard stories of at least one notable mage, a Grey Warden who reputedly went into battle with one of the legendary hounds at his side -- the Commander of the Grey, the Hero of Ferelden himself.
He was certain now that Devin was that storied Warden. It explained a great many things: his apparent battle skills, his guilt over the fates of the other Wardens, his reticence about his own experience as a Warden, and occasional remarks that had seemed out of place for a supposed new recruit. What the hunter didn't know was why the man had said nothing of his true identity. Surely he would have received a hero's due from the clan if he had spoken out...
But perhaps that is precisely what he doesn't want, Zevran thought as they approached the camp. He resolved to keep silent on the matter, for now. He knew well what it was like to be seen as something rather than someone, after all.
Next to him, Devin laughed at some antic of the mabari's, and a sudden realization brought a hint of a smile to Zevran's lips. The Fereldan Commander of the Grey has declared me incomparably attractive. Now that is heady praise...
.fin.
Writeanon thanks any and everyone, including beloved and patient OP, for reading this far. Hopefully the rest will be more concise.
Re: Geese in Spring, Part II: Identity [8/8]
anonymous
July 4 2010, 06:11:02 UTC
I'm enjoying this so much, I really don't care how unconcise the rest may be, so long as it keeps coming. :3 In fact, the more the better, so feel free to write at length~
"Well, now," the elf laughed, seemingly amused by Devin's directness, "I suppose I should be flattered, then. And, as the saying goes, flattery will get you everywhere." He flashed the Warden a grin before ducking under the water.
The end of the exchange came as a relief to the Warden. He still hadn't made mention to the Dalish of his proper rank; it was refreshing, and, he suspected, a great deal less stressful, to not be treated as "the Hero of Ferelden" or "the Warden Commander". And, he had to admit to himself, it was particularly nice not to be flirted with solely because of his position. He had had any number of noblewomen (and a few men, to be sure) vying for his attentions at court, to say nothing of past acquaintances from the Circle trying to rekindle old flames because of his new status, or the occasional servant looking to curry his favor. He certainly had nothing against a bit of fun for pleasure's sake, but he would not be used as a trophy or a stepping-stone. Not again.
With that rule in place, his evenings had been rather quiet in the past several months. There had been one last, intoxicated night with Alistair before his coronation and wedding, and then an occasional tryst here and there with other Grey Wardens and members of the guard, but those never happened more than once. His position being what it was, Devin did not want to give the impression that he might be playing favorites, or that his approval could be bought with sex.
One of the Orlesian Wardens, a mage, had tried such a thing, but her very persistence had been a turn-off even before Devin had caught wind of her scheming. It was no secret that he hadn't wanted to be Commander of the Grey, but he'd accepted the duty as a favor to the King and the nobles of Ferelden, who would not stand for an Orlesian commander. Nevertheless, the woman, Eugenie, had set about trying to be named as Devin's Second, in the hope that he would eventually step down. The whole affair had annoyed Devin mightily, and he had sent the mage back to Orlais with a blistering reprimand about behavior unbecoming of the order. The other Orlesian Wardens had cooled considerably towards him after that, but as long as they did not try to work against him, he didn't much care. He wasn't there to be liked, after all.
Too bad, though. Maker, but that woman knew some wicked things... Shaking his head slightly to dispel the memories, he turned his attention back to his present companion, who was singing under his breath as he worked his fingers through his fine blonde hair. The elf was turned away from Devin at the moment, and the Warden took the opportunity to enjoy the sight of water sluicing down that well-muscled back.
When had he last been with an elf? Back while he was still an apprentice, he realized, in the Tower. Not that there were so very many differences between humans and elves, particularly when it came to sex, but there were some few things that he would keep in mind -- provided they were ever needed, of course. Perhaps Zevran's flirtation was all talk, and he had no intention of ever letting the shem touch him. Would serve me right for getting my hopes up, the Warden thought sardonically.
After several more minutes, Zevran finally emerged from the water, catching the towel Devin tossed at him as he approached. He dried himself off in a cursory fashion, pulled on smallclothes and a pair of doeskin trousers, and sprawled out next to the mage, stretching with almost indecent pleasure before laying back with his hands behind his head.
The Warden watched this show -- for it was most certainly a display for his benefit -- with a faint smirk. "Feeling clean?" he asked, choosing his wording quite deliberately.
Of course, Zevran knew it, and there was laughter in his eyes as he looked up at the mage. "For now. Until I find myself feeling dirty, at least."
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Captcha is being silly today: paleface the
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Also there will be sexin's in this story, I promise. XD;
Devin's smirk widened into a grin. "I suppose we'll have to avoid that at all costs, then, won't we?" he drawled.
"Hmm..." The elf made a noncommittal sound, his amber eyes still bright. He looked speculatively at Devin, as if trying to gauge the actual level of interest behind all of the teasing.
As tempting as it was to try to encourage that line of thought, the Warden knew it would only lead to frustration right now, if it even got so far. He reluctantly decided to steer the subject back to his earlier question. "Perhaps, to that end, we should pursue some other topic of conversation, ser?" he asked with mock formality.
Zevran smiled, although he seemed to tense slightly at the mage's words. Devin, inwardly alarmed at the sudden shift, would have tried to lighten the mood again, but the elf began to speak before he had the chance.
"Ah, you asked me a question before we were distracted by cleanliness, yes?" He looked away from Devin, up at the thin veil of leaves overhead.
"Only if you want to answer it," the mage replied. He would be the last person to demand the details of someone else's life history, and he hardly expected Zevran's tale to be a happy one. "It's just... idle curiosity on my part, nothing more."
"Oh, I have nothing to hide," Zevran said airily. "Most of the others could tell you any of this, as well."
Again, that sense of dissonance, of not being one of "the others". Devin put on a wry grin, not wanting the mood to be ruined entirely. "As someone who's done a fair bit of research, I prefer primary sources when I can find them."
"That is an excellent policy, I think," the elf said with an answering grin. "Hmm, what was it exactly you asked? What brought me here? That is simple enough: I ran away from my previous situation." He did not say family, or home, the Warden noted, but he did not interrupt to ask about it. "That, however, happened not here in Ferelden, but to the north, in fair Antiva."
"Antiva?" Devin echoed in surprise. Well, that explained Zevran's curious accent and patterns of speech, at least. "But how--"
"--Did I come to be here?" Zevran smiled faintly. "A suggestion from my first foster-clan that I might be safer here, far away from my... roots. Apparently, it isn't unheard of for lone Dalish to wander far afield, particularly if there has been some personal tragedy or conflict in their clan -- to escape old memories and so on, I suppose." He shrugged philosophically. "Of course, by now I think perhaps they simply wanted to be rid of me, without wishing me any real harm. Whatever the case, they did help me make my way here by sea."
Devin simply nodded as the elf told his story; the hunter's recital was so matter-of-fact that it almost sounded like something that had happened to someone else. Perhaps it had, in a way, but the mage got the impression that Zevran hadn't changed so very much from his pre-Dalish self, which was probably the root of his problems with the clan.
"It was a relatively small matter to find a wandering clan, once I arrived in this country," the hunter continued, gazing up towards the sky. "Now, Dalish everywhere are impatient with we 'flat-ears' -- city elves, yes? -- and I had little to offer besides my skill with bow and blade, but this clan generously took me in, all the same." He spread his arms wide, a gesture encompassing the forest around them. "And here I am."
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Meanwhile, captcha says "deviated diamond"... I like it, but I do not understand it.
There were, Devin knew, a great many things missing from this tale. Zevran's expression, when he turned back to the mage, was open, as if expecting, even inviting questions, but the Warden hardly knew where to begin. Finally, he seized on one of the hunter's last remarks. "If the clan saw your skill with weapons, it's no wonder they accepted you," he began, "you'd certainly be an asset... But if you didn't learn your skills among the Dalish, then when...?"
In the Alienages of Ferelden, Devin had discovered, elves were discouraged from taking up weapons by both their human and elven neighbors; the former wanted no threat of insubordination or revolt on their hands, and the latter simply wished to avoid drawing attention. Perhaps things were more relaxed in Antiva... but somehow the mage doubted it.
"Ah." Zevran smiled thinly. "You've gone straight for the throat, my dear Warden, though I suppose I'd expect no less." He rolled onto his side, propping his head up on his hand, and watched the other man intently as he spoke. "I imagine you have heard of the Antivan Crows?"
Devin's eyes widened in astonishment before he could check the reaction. An assassin... That explained several things -- the elf's combat skills, of course, but also his knowledge of herbalism (that went hand-in-hand with poison, didn't it?). The Warden wondered if it was yet another reason some of the Dalish didn't approve of the hunter. But he didn't seem to be so very old, and he spoke of the clan as if he'd been here for years... how much assassin work could he have done?
The elf smirked at Devin's surprise, but there was a hint of bitterness there. "You have, I see. That was what I sought to escape, my friend."
"Escape?" It seemed odd, to have to escape one's employers, but then the mage thought of his own escape from the Tower at Kinloch Hold. Of course, entering the Grey Wardens wasn't much of an escape, but it was still better than being at the mercy of the Templars...
"Mmm. Most of the Crows are little more than slaves, you see. They buy them young, raise them to know nothing but murder. If you survive the training and become a full assassin... Well, you still belong to the House of Crows. You don't think they would take it lightly if we walked away with all of their secrets, not to mention all the wasted years and investment of training, hmm?" Zevran's tone was light as he casually explained something with such terrible implications; his gaze still rested on the mage, watching him for areaction.
"They would have hunted you down," Devin murmured, thinking it over. "Either to drag you back, or..."
"Or to kill me as a poor investment, yes," the elf confirmed wih a nod. "Usually the former, in cases like this. After all, anyone who wishes to run away presumably wants to live, yes? Maybe they even hope they can try to run again, later. I'd never seen it happen, myself, but it was said that anyone who tried such a thing too often would be killed. Too much of a waste of valuable time constantly trying to recover them, you see."
That did remind the Warden entirely too much of the Tower, and he wondered for a moment if the Crows had anything equivalent to making a mage Tranquil. Breaking an assassin's spirit in some way, such that he would still be useful as a killer? He shuddered slightly, the thought of the Rite of Tranquility unsettling him as it always did.
Zevran raised an eyebrow at this reaction, but before he could inquire, Devin pressed on with another question. "So... the Dalish would have been a safe haven." When the elf nodded in agreement, he asked, "But what made you think to seek them out? Like you said, they don't have much love for city elves..."
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The Warden shook his head. He noted that Zevran had made no other mention of his parents; he seemed to have been raised an orphan, much as Devin himself was. That being the case, the mage thought he understood the hint of wistfulness in Zevran's voice, even as the elf chided himself for being naive. To have a home, to belong somewhere, was probably a dream every orphan held deep in their heart, whether they were willing to acknowledge it or not. He didn't think Zevran wanted to speak of such things, though, or not right now, at any rate, so he said simply, "It's not foolish," and looked at the other man to continue.
Zevran regarded him curiously for a moment before pressing on. "The clan I found did not know my mother, or at least, said they did not, and were not much moved by my claim of kinship. But I made myself useful, and they agreed to shelter me... at least for a while. And that," he finished, making a gesture of summation with his free hand, "was that."
Devin smiled slightly. "That was considerably more interesting than you led me to believe, ser." He still had questions -- dozens of them, at this point -- but he had the impression that the elf was tired of talking for the time being.
"Ah? I am glad my little recital did not bore you to tears, my dear Warden." Zevran's smile seemed a bit more genuine this time. "But I do seem to have taken up more time than I'd planned for a simple bath. Perhaps we'd best return to camp before full dark."
The sun had indeed sunk below the trees; Devin had hardly noticed nightfall gradually creeping up on them. "Hmm, yes. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to keep you so long," he said in apology.
Zevran chuckled as he rose to his feet, holding out a hand to pull Devin up with him. "Don't be sorry, feel free to monopolize me whenever -- or however -- you'd like," the hunter said in a tone meant to stir the blood, and a glint in his amber eyes to match as he met the Warden's gaze. Devin, used to having the upper hand in these sorts of challenges, was forced to look away first, unwilling to fully engage in such a contest in his current condition. Zevran laughed outright in his apparent victory, and while the Warden usually hated losing at any game, he found himself thinking that against some opponents, perhaps it wasn't such a terrible thing.
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"Aestan!" the man called. In a moment something came barreling down the path towards them, an enormous shape that soon resolved itself into a brindled mabari hound. The dog halted right in front of Devin, barking excitedly.
"Hush," the mage admonished, unable to hold back a smile. The hound complied, his docked tail stub wagging furiously as Devin scratched his ears vigorously with his good hand. "How did you get here?"
"Is that... a mabari?" Zevran asked, eyeing the dog intently. Devin looked at him curiously before replying.
"Yes, of course -- what else is so big and dumb and loud?" Aestan whined plaintively at the unkind remark. "Oh, you know I don't really mean that, you great brute."
Some things were falling into place for the hunter just then. "You don't seem overly surprised to see him."
"We left him in Tarleton, before we entered the forest," the Warden said quietly. "He's excellent in battle, of course -- Darkspawn don't faze him a bit -- but we knew we were looking for a band that had proven impossible to defeat so far..."
Zevran nodded slightly at this explanation, glancing up at Devin from the corner of his eye. "Finhavil took your letter to Tarleton, yes? Perhaps he brought him back?" The Dalish youth had been sent to the nearby village with a message from Devin to be sent on to Denerim, about the Darkspawn attack and the loss of the other Wardens.
"Ah... maybe so. I suppose we'll find out, hmm?" The mage called the dog to heel, and the creature obeyed with alacrity, padding next to his master as if there was nothing else in all the world he'd rather do. But of course, dogs were like that, and Zevran supposed that mabari might be even moreso.
The mabari, he'd learned since coming to Ferelden, belonged almost exclusively to human nobles, and in truth, poorer masters might not have had the resources to feed such massive beasts. On top of that, the mabari supposedly imprinted onto individuals, devoting themselves entirely to one master. For a mage to have such a creature -- to have been chosen by one -- was incredible.
But within the past year, Zevran had heard stories of at least one notable mage, a Grey Warden who reputedly went into battle with one of the legendary hounds at his side -- the Commander of the Grey, the Hero of Ferelden himself.
He was certain now that Devin was that storied Warden. It explained a great many things: his apparent battle skills, his guilt over the fates of the other Wardens, his reticence about his own experience as a Warden, and occasional remarks that had seemed out of place for a supposed new recruit. What the hunter didn't know was why the man had said nothing of his true identity. Surely he would have received a hero's due from the clan if he had spoken out...
But perhaps that is precisely what he doesn't want, Zevran thought as they approached the camp. He resolved to keep silent on the matter, for now. He knew well what it was like to be seen as something rather than someone, after all.
Next to him, Devin laughed at some antic of the mabari's, and a sudden realization brought a hint of a smile to Zevran's lips. The Fereldan Commander of the Grey has declared me incomparably attractive. Now that is heady praise...
.fin.
Writeanon thanks any and everyone, including beloved and patient OP, for reading this far. Hopefully the rest will be more concise.
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(Captcha says "one pusher". I'm not sure how to take that. XD)
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