Over the river and through the woods (OPEN)

[elfroot]

Characters: Zevran and anyone else! (He's friendly and doesn't bite unless it's specifically requested.)
Setting/Location: Caravan balcony
Date & Time: Day 4, very early morning
Warnings: None, shockingly
Summary: After Cid Amon's little announcement, there's a great deal to think about--and do, presumably.

Comments

[elfroot]

Ah, the curious habits of others. Zevran turned--better not to show his blindside to a stranger, especially one who appeared to be having a bad day already--with his lower back against the balcony railing, elbows resting atop it for balance, watching the man light his cigarette wish some curiosity. (Never turn your back to a redhead, in any case. That was just asking for trouble!) This provided the best view of whatever it was the man was doing: it appeared that he was lighting some little scroll of paper on fire and, apparently, eating it.

Curious, indeed. Did he not know there was food to be had in the kitchens? There was no accounting for the tastes of others, but this, surely, was madness.

No madder than everything else, however. Zevran glanced from the man's odd snack to the ogre, to the river, to the horizon, then back again to the man. Yes; in the grand scheme of things, this was not so strange at all, after all, now was it?

"It is far too early to be wearing such an expression," Zevran offered, friendly enough. He'd had enough of making enemies; there was already at least one woman (and possibly two) he'd managed to anger sufficiently, and considering it had been but a mere few days since he had arrived, it was likely more sensible to slow down just a bit. Save the rest of his inspiring personality for later. "I believe it should not be allowed until after lunch, at the very least."

[informational]

Badou could feel the eyes on him. Hadn't this guy seen a redheaded cyclops in disco-puke chic before? What a sheltered man. It was annoying, thinking he was being observed like he was a side show.

Sure, Badou was a wallflower and his entire career revolved around watching others and getting information, but having the tables turned was a pain in the ass.

His eye turned upward, finally, when the man spoke. To fill his patience meter, another smoke-filling breath for his lungs and finally, he spoke, the burning stick settling in his lips as his yellow fingers tucked into his pockets.

"Tell that to our wise and knowledgeable guide, not me. I'm not in the mood for drowning and this hasn't been the best few days, so excuse me for not having sunshine come out of my ass."

[elfroot]

What a...different smell it was. Not entirely pleasant, but neither was it as terrible as the aura of stench around Oghren when he had experienced an accident the evening before, yet still deemed it unnecessary to wash his pants the next morning.

Ah, sweet memories.

In any case, this man was missing an eye and appeared to be color blind in the other; what else could have explained his peculiar outfit? Zevran had seen a great deal of strange fashion in the past couple of days, but not all of it was unfortunate--and none of it as unfortunate as this. No wonder he looked so unhappy.

Despite all that, he seemed to have his wits--and his sense of humor--about him, and really, wasn't that what was most important? (Well, a handsome face, too, or a fine pair of breasts... But never mind that just yet.)

"I do not believe I asked you to be cheerful so much as less miserable," Zevran murmured, thoughtful now. "But, I agree; it is so difficult when people are disappearing left and right, and their taste appears to be disagreeing with the ogre's digestion, wouldn't you say?"

[informational]

The string bean of a man found himself looking at the other man's ears. How did someone get ears like that? A birth defect? Or maybe it was some weird fetish, like over sized gauged piercings. He'd seen far weirder things in those freaky children -- horns and cat ears and tails and scales -- but this didn't seem animalistic. It wasn't experiments. It was just something bizarre that made the man's head seem a little too long.

He shook his head and turned his eye to look out at the river again, deciding he didn't really want to look at this guy too long. He might end up with some kind of voodoo curse on him, if the tattoos and ears and nonsense were any sign of what he might be like.

After all, he was cheery and pleasant at this hour in the morning: He had to be evil. Or crazy.

With a smirk, Badou shrugged his shoulders. "I've been able to avoid the smell alright. The tobacco smoke kills it, after a while."

It was probably more that he smoked so much, he barely had a sense of smell anymore in the first place. This guy didn't need to know that about him, though.

[elfroot]

It was not uncommon to have ones ears inspected that closely by strangers; even in Ferelden, depending on where one went, one got the distinct sense that some strangers were giving them the fish-eye. Such was prejudice; little did they know the reason they should have been disapproving was for all terrible, unforgivable things Zevran had done, and not for something as trifling as the shape and size of his ears.

In any case, they rather suited him. They matched his hair very handsomely, so he thought; he was not overly vain, but certainly not disapproving of the way he looked, either. Best to have a hearty sense of confidence; that, more than anything, made man or elf attract positive attention.

"Are they sticks of incense, then, or something entirely different?" Zevran tilted his head to one side, corners of his eyes wrinkling. "If they get rid of the smell, I shall have to bring as many as possible back for an acquaintance of mine--his name is Oghren, and it is possible even you may have smelled him before. In your darkest dreams, of course."