Well-Woven Net, Stray Strand: Bonds
Heh, had a little too much entertainment value from the title to try to find something else. When titles can be applied in more than two different ways, you keep them. XD
Just something I needed to work out, even if it was just in my own head. For reference, this would fall on the night of Knots 11 and 12, so, several hours after the conversation with Ignacio. It's still rough at this point, but I've been pecking at it for more than a week and I want it GONE. :P Maybe I'll fiddle with it a bit in the next few days, but for now, yeah... no. Sorry for the blahness you may encounter on the way. :p
Well-Woven Net, Stray Strand: Bonds
Author: jenovan
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
It was becoming all too common, Alessar thought, to leave Denerim feeling defeated. No matter what they accomplished while they were there, there was always something to take the wind out of their sails.
He supposed matters were a bit more personal this time, though. He was still worried about his family, with some illness running rampant in the Alienage, but trying to help them might have endangered not only himself -- which was of little concern -- but his entire party, as well as their mission, and as much as he hated to admit it, saving the country had to come before saving his father and cousins. In the end, they wouldn't thank him for abandoning his responsibilities, he was well aware, and knowing that made it a little easier to walk away... but only a little.
On top of that, however, there was this matter of Zevran and the Crows. It was bad enough knowing that Zevran's old cell still sought the Wardens' deaths, but if (or more likely, when) they discovered Zevran was not only alive, but working with the Wardens, would they come after the group with a vengeance? And where, exactly, did Taliesen fall in all of this? Ignacio had mentioned him by name, which was worrying...
The elven Warden rose from his spot by the campfire, giving Ovden an absentminded ear-scritch as he looked around for Zevran. The assassin was nowhere to be seen around the campsite -- but on his second glance around, Alessar finally noticed the light coming from within Zevran's tent.
That was a bit unusual; generally, if weather permitted, they took care of their chores out in the open air, and anything that needed genuine privacy was better left for later at night, after most of the others had gone to sleep. Now more than a little curious, the Warden headed towards the other elf's tent, letting his steps be heard.
"Zevran?" he called tentatively through the tent flap.
"Ah, come in, my dear Warden, but mind your feet."
With a warning like that, it seemed prudent to look before walking in unwary. Alessar peered inside and immediately saw the reason for both Zevran's caution and his self-imposed confinement: more than a score of small vials of poison were laid out on the floor of the tent. The assassin was clearly in the midst of decanting a large batch of something or other into the small portions he'd actually need to coat his daggers.
Zevran met the Warden's curious look with a slightly mocking grin. "What good are the ingredients for poison if they're never put to use? Carrying around sea-snake venom seems wasteful, when I could be carrying la tranquilidad instead."
"Trahnkili-" Alessar tried, the Antivan pronunciation unfamiliar, "'tranquility'? That's the name of the poison?" He ducked into the tent and carefully nudged several vials aside so he could sit down.
"Mm, that is what we call it in Antiva. Here in Ferelden, I have heard of a concoction called 'Quiet Death' that I believe may be the same thing." Zevran spoke quite calmly, moreso than usual, as he used a hollow reed to transfer the dark liquid from a large flask into the vials, no more than a teaspoon at a time. Given that the assassin was working with his bare hands, Alessar had to assume that the toxin was not poisonous to the touch, but Zevran still moved with care. That intense focus he was able to call upon, seemingly at a moment's notice, was fascinating to the Warden, although he wondered if it was a natural talent or something the former Crow had been trained in.
Alessar waited in patient silence for several minutes, until Zevran's curiosity finally got the better of him. "And to what do I owe the undeniable pleasure of your visit, cielo? Have you missed me so very much in the past hour?" Though his gaze remained firmly on his work, his playful grin was clearly directed at the other elf. "Or perhaps some salacious fireside tale has driven you to my arms early this evening?"
The Warden had to laugh at Zevran's overly theatrical delivery, although it was true enough that he'd missed the assassin's company. "More the former, certainly not the latter. Actually, I wanted to talk to you, that's all. But you're clearly a bit tie-- er, busy..."
It was no use; the Antivan elf caught his slip easily. "Tied up, I believe you were going to say?" he asked innocently. "I do so love these little Fereldan idioms. But if I were tied up, wouldn't I be forced to listen to you, rather than the opposite?" he continued thoughtfully. "Perhaps we should test this idea?"
The Warden knew that his lover was simply trying to get a rise out of him now, which was the only reason he was able to keep his composure. "Maybe later," he managed to say with a straight face.
"Hmm, now that sounds promising," Zevran chuckled. "As for right now -- I'm nearly finished, as you can see." Indeed, the flask of poison was nearly empty. "So, would you like to continue our conversation here, or perhaps in the open air?"
"Outside, I think." Alessar didn't mind the forced proximity one bit, but he vastly preferred being out in the open over the stuffy confines of a canvas tent. "If you don't mind."
The assassin didn't answer for a moment; he was painstakingly pouring the last of the poison out by hand. Once that was done, he stuffed a bit of scrap linen inside the flask to soak up the tiny amount of liquid left and replaced the stopper. "I don't mind at all, my dear Warden. Some fresh air will be pleasant after these labors."
In a few minutes, they were sitting amid the sprawling roots of an enormous apple tree near the edge of the camp, close enough to each other to speak quietly. Ovden had eagerly followed them, and was now scouting the immediate vicinity, his occasional loud snort at a new discovery the only thing breaking the illusion of privacy.
"So, cielo mio," Zevran drawled, stretching his arms over his head before dropping into a comfortable slouch, "what is on your mind?" The intent look in his amber eyes belied his relaxed pose; Alessar imagined that the assassin had some idea of what he wanted to discuss.
"I... was wondering about some of the things Ignacio said," the Warden began cautiously. Zevran was usually happy to relate tales of his past, but it was almost always on his own terms. This particular topic had apparently struck a nerve with him earlier, however, and Alessar was afraid that he wouldn't want to talk about it at all.
"Ah." Zevran looked down for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, or his nerve. When he glanced back up, he was wearing a resigned smile. "About the Crows in the main, or...?"
The Warden nodded to the question Zevran had left hanging. "He mentioned Taliesen specifically... what... could that mean?"
"Nothing good," the assassin said quietly. "Ignacio has been out of Antiva since before I was sent here; for him to know of my contract, and to mention Taliesen by name, makes me think that he's had news directly from someone in my old cell." The Antivan elf's normally mobile face had become expressionless as he spoke, and Alessar knew that he was holding something back.
"'Someone'...?" he prompted. Ignacio had referred to Zevran as Taliesen's responsibility, which carried a certain implication in Alessar's mind.
Zevran sighed and looked at the Warden with a faint, unhappy smile. "Yes... From what little was said, it sounds as if Taliesen has been put on my contract, as would happen if a Crow died in an attempt."
Alessar nodded slowly; that had been the impression he'd gotten, as well. "So... now it will be his job to come after us," he murmured.
"So it would seem, cielo."
The Warden could only wonder at what was going through Zevran's mind, and some of it, he was sure, the assassin wouldn't want to share. Was he wondering what would be said, in such a confrontation? Did he think the other Crow had a chance of succeeding? The only thing Alessar could be certain of was that Zevran was unhappy, and for the Antivan to show as much was a little worrying.
"I'm sorry," the dark-haired elf murmured, meaning it.
"Sorry for what, my dear Warden? Of all involved, you are perhaps the least to blame." Zevran smiled faintly. "I... suppose I am not terribly surprised by this turn of events. As you have heard, the Crows do not abandon their contracts, and once word reached the Crows that I had failed... Taliesen would have been the most logical choice to complete the job."
"Because... you were friends?" Alessar asked tentatively, unsure if Zevran wanted to talk about the matter in detail.
"Because we had similar martial training... Because we often worked together, and perhaps he would be able to either find the flaws in my initial attack" -- the assassin snorted wryly, since that attack had not been meant to succeed -- "or build off of something I'd set up before. We've done such things in the past, you see, with one of us going in days or weeks earlier to set something up before the other came to trigger the trap, so to speak. But..." He sighed softly. "Yes, also because we were 'friends'."
The Warden caught the somewhat acerbic emphasis on the word. He tilted his head questioningly. "Were you not...?"
Zevran looked at him searchingly for a moment, as if trying to divine the reason behind his asking. "We... did not have friends among the Crows," he said carefully. "Not in the same sense of the word that I would use to describe, for instance, you and Alistair." He tugged at the cuffs of his shirtsleeves, uncharacteristically uncomfortable. "Perhaps you'll recall what I've said before, about every Crow being out for himself? That is not an environment that fosters much friendship."
Alessar nodded in understanding, but his thoughts were whirling rapidly. The assassin's fidgeting, seldom displayed in front of anyone besides the elven Warden, hinted that he wasn't telling everything, but Alessar wasn't sure how far he wanted to press. The last thing he wanted to do was make Zevran angry with inane questions, but while the Antivan had told plenty of stories of his job-related escapades, he'd really said very little about his life beyond that, save for explaining about Rinna. It wasn't that Alessar felt he had a right to know; he simply couldn't help being curious about the other elf's past, the experiences that had made him into who he was now.
Besides, if Zevran hadn't considered Taliesen something like a friend, in the more typical sense, why would he be so clearly affected by Ignacio's comments?
"Then... he was just another Crow you worked with, nothing more than that?" the Warden asked hesitantly.
Zevran's immediate reaction -- a quiet, but noticeable, intake of breath -- wasn't what he'd expected. Why had that struck a nerve?
"He was a good friend to me, as good as one could hope for in such a life as the one we led," the assassin said quietly, looking away from Alessar and towards the distant campfire. After a long moment, he turned back to face the elven Warden, his expression solemn. "We were... very close." He met Alessar's gaze until he was certain the other elf understood what he meant.
Alessar nodded mutely in acknowledgment, his mind feeling frozen and numb for a moment. He tried to reconcile this new knowledge with things the assassin had said before. Zevran disavowed all understanding of love; was that a new attitude, since what had happened with Rinna? Or, just as he discounted friendship among the Crows, was there no such thing as love there, at least in his eyes? Perhaps his relationship with Taliesen was mostly physical? Now the Warden was coming up with a myriad of questions he wasn't sure he wanted answers to.
Some of his anxiety must have shown on his face, and Zevran was adept at reading him anyway; the Antivan elf leaned forward and touched the back of Alessar's hand lightly. "Cielo, I tell you this so that you won't be... surprised if certain things come up in the future." His amber eyes were intent on the Warden, perhaps trying to determine just how badly he'd shaken the other man. "It is all in the past, now."
From someone else, that might have been comforting. Or if Zevran had ever truly declared his feelings for Alessar, it might have been comforting. But without that sort of tangible anchor, the Warden could only wonder what made his relationship with Zevran any different than Taliesen's. Maybe it wasn't.
But the other Crow hadn't been able to keep Zevran in Antiva, apparently... hadn't been enough to avert the elf's death wish. In contrast, the assassin had told Alessar that he was glad to be here, in Ferelden. Maybe that was only because the Warden had given him a chance at a new life, but that was worth something... wasn't it?
The dark-haired elf tried to smile, but again, Zevran saw through the weak attempt. "Ah, this is not what I intended," he said with a quiet sigh. "I have said before that I cannot change my past, yes?"
Alessar realized that the assassin was taking his reaction the wrong way -- as a sort of resentment of his relationship with Taliesen. Well... maybe he did feel some irrational envy, but that wasn't exactly the problem. At least, he didn't think it was. But he didn't think there was any way he could explain that to Zevran, at this point in time. I'm afraid he'll take you back to Antiva. I'm afraid he'll convince you to fight me. I'm afraid I'll have to... The Warden shut his eyes tightly against the thought, drawing the other elf's attention with the sudden movement.
"... If this is something that... changes things between us, my dear Warden..." Zevran began.
"No!" Alessar quickly opened his eyes and met the Antivan's amber gaze. "No..." he repeated, fighting to sound calm. "I... You're right, it's in the past." He shook his head. "And I'd never hold that against you. It... doesn't really have anything to do with me, so how could I?" That sounded as awkward as he felt, but how did one discuss something like this, really?
But that drew a little smile from Zevran. "No... it really doesn't have anything to do with you, cielo." He gently took the Warden's left hand and turned it palm-up, tracing feather-light circles with his thumb. "That is an old tale, now. Ferelden is a new story, and I, for one, am much more interested in learning how this one goes than in rereading something I already know." Leaving off of the circles, he grasped Alessar's fingers lightly and tugged, an unspoken question that was echoed in his eyes.
Alessar wasn't entirely sure he was in the mood -- not after this -- and while he was positive Zevran could change his mind quickly, he didn't know if he should give in. Even if the assassin was simply trying to cheer him up, the Warden wasn't sure he should let the other elf get the impression that a simple distraction would keep his mind off of this conversation -- because it wouldn't, Alessar knew. Now that they knew the Crows' contract was still active, it was going to be difficult to avoid thinking about it.
But... if the worst comes to pass, a quiet voice said in his head, shouldn't you enjoy the time that you have now?
Not a new thought, and something that was true on any given night, these days. When were they not headed into some sort of hideous peril? Tonight he'd learned of a new danger, but that didn't change the fact that tomorrow something would probably try to kill them...
Not a tough decision, in that light. He squeezed Zevran's hand in response, and felt his pulse quicken a little at the heated look the assassin gave him then. How does he do that...?
Zevran rose to his feet then, pulling Alessar up with him. "Ahh, but waiting until the others turn in for the night is going to be absolutely excruciating," the Antivan elf said with a wicked little grin. "Perhaps, in the meantime, I should look for some rope? To test our earlier... hypothesis?"
The assassin's strike was on target this time, and the Warden cursed inwardly as he felt his ears growing hot. Unlike earlier, he wasn't entirely sure whether or not the other elf was joking; he also wasn't sure which of those two possibilities he was hoping for.
.fin.
Just something I needed to work out, even if it was just in my own head. For reference, this would fall on the night of Knots 11 and 12, so, several hours after the conversation with Ignacio. It's still rough at this point, but I've been pecking at it for more than a week and I want it GONE. :P Maybe I'll fiddle with it a bit in the next few days, but for now, yeah... no. Sorry for the blahness you may encounter on the way. :p
Well-Woven Net, Stray Strand: Bonds
Author: jenovan
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
It was becoming all too common, Alessar thought, to leave Denerim feeling defeated. No matter what they accomplished while they were there, there was always something to take the wind out of their sails.
He supposed matters were a bit more personal this time, though. He was still worried about his family, with some illness running rampant in the Alienage, but trying to help them might have endangered not only himself -- which was of little concern -- but his entire party, as well as their mission, and as much as he hated to admit it, saving the country had to come before saving his father and cousins. In the end, they wouldn't thank him for abandoning his responsibilities, he was well aware, and knowing that made it a little easier to walk away... but only a little.
On top of that, however, there was this matter of Zevran and the Crows. It was bad enough knowing that Zevran's old cell still sought the Wardens' deaths, but if (or more likely, when) they discovered Zevran was not only alive, but working with the Wardens, would they come after the group with a vengeance? And where, exactly, did Taliesen fall in all of this? Ignacio had mentioned him by name, which was worrying...
The elven Warden rose from his spot by the campfire, giving Ovden an absentminded ear-scritch as he looked around for Zevran. The assassin was nowhere to be seen around the campsite -- but on his second glance around, Alessar finally noticed the light coming from within Zevran's tent.
That was a bit unusual; generally, if weather permitted, they took care of their chores out in the open air, and anything that needed genuine privacy was better left for later at night, after most of the others had gone to sleep. Now more than a little curious, the Warden headed towards the other elf's tent, letting his steps be heard.
"Zevran?" he called tentatively through the tent flap.
"Ah, come in, my dear Warden, but mind your feet."
With a warning like that, it seemed prudent to look before walking in unwary. Alessar peered inside and immediately saw the reason for both Zevran's caution and his self-imposed confinement: more than a score of small vials of poison were laid out on the floor of the tent. The assassin was clearly in the midst of decanting a large batch of something or other into the small portions he'd actually need to coat his daggers.
Zevran met the Warden's curious look with a slightly mocking grin. "What good are the ingredients for poison if they're never put to use? Carrying around sea-snake venom seems wasteful, when I could be carrying la tranquilidad instead."
"Trahnkili-" Alessar tried, the Antivan pronunciation unfamiliar, "'tranquility'? That's the name of the poison?" He ducked into the tent and carefully nudged several vials aside so he could sit down.
"Mm, that is what we call it in Antiva. Here in Ferelden, I have heard of a concoction called 'Quiet Death' that I believe may be the same thing." Zevran spoke quite calmly, moreso than usual, as he used a hollow reed to transfer the dark liquid from a large flask into the vials, no more than a teaspoon at a time. Given that the assassin was working with his bare hands, Alessar had to assume that the toxin was not poisonous to the touch, but Zevran still moved with care. That intense focus he was able to call upon, seemingly at a moment's notice, was fascinating to the Warden, although he wondered if it was a natural talent or something the former Crow had been trained in.
Alessar waited in patient silence for several minutes, until Zevran's curiosity finally got the better of him. "And to what do I owe the undeniable pleasure of your visit, cielo? Have you missed me so very much in the past hour?" Though his gaze remained firmly on his work, his playful grin was clearly directed at the other elf. "Or perhaps some salacious fireside tale has driven you to my arms early this evening?"
The Warden had to laugh at Zevran's overly theatrical delivery, although it was true enough that he'd missed the assassin's company. "More the former, certainly not the latter. Actually, I wanted to talk to you, that's all. But you're clearly a bit tie-- er, busy..."
It was no use; the Antivan elf caught his slip easily. "Tied up, I believe you were going to say?" he asked innocently. "I do so love these little Fereldan idioms. But if I were tied up, wouldn't I be forced to listen to you, rather than the opposite?" he continued thoughtfully. "Perhaps we should test this idea?"
The Warden knew that his lover was simply trying to get a rise out of him now, which was the only reason he was able to keep his composure. "Maybe later," he managed to say with a straight face.
"Hmm, now that sounds promising," Zevran chuckled. "As for right now -- I'm nearly finished, as you can see." Indeed, the flask of poison was nearly empty. "So, would you like to continue our conversation here, or perhaps in the open air?"
"Outside, I think." Alessar didn't mind the forced proximity one bit, but he vastly preferred being out in the open over the stuffy confines of a canvas tent. "If you don't mind."
The assassin didn't answer for a moment; he was painstakingly pouring the last of the poison out by hand. Once that was done, he stuffed a bit of scrap linen inside the flask to soak up the tiny amount of liquid left and replaced the stopper. "I don't mind at all, my dear Warden. Some fresh air will be pleasant after these labors."
In a few minutes, they were sitting amid the sprawling roots of an enormous apple tree near the edge of the camp, close enough to each other to speak quietly. Ovden had eagerly followed them, and was now scouting the immediate vicinity, his occasional loud snort at a new discovery the only thing breaking the illusion of privacy.
"So, cielo mio," Zevran drawled, stretching his arms over his head before dropping into a comfortable slouch, "what is on your mind?" The intent look in his amber eyes belied his relaxed pose; Alessar imagined that the assassin had some idea of what he wanted to discuss.
"I... was wondering about some of the things Ignacio said," the Warden began cautiously. Zevran was usually happy to relate tales of his past, but it was almost always on his own terms. This particular topic had apparently struck a nerve with him earlier, however, and Alessar was afraid that he wouldn't want to talk about it at all.
"Ah." Zevran looked down for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, or his nerve. When he glanced back up, he was wearing a resigned smile. "About the Crows in the main, or...?"
The Warden nodded to the question Zevran had left hanging. "He mentioned Taliesen specifically... what... could that mean?"
"Nothing good," the assassin said quietly. "Ignacio has been out of Antiva since before I was sent here; for him to know of my contract, and to mention Taliesen by name, makes me think that he's had news directly from someone in my old cell." The Antivan elf's normally mobile face had become expressionless as he spoke, and Alessar knew that he was holding something back.
"'Someone'...?" he prompted. Ignacio had referred to Zevran as Taliesen's responsibility, which carried a certain implication in Alessar's mind.
Zevran sighed and looked at the Warden with a faint, unhappy smile. "Yes... From what little was said, it sounds as if Taliesen has been put on my contract, as would happen if a Crow died in an attempt."
Alessar nodded slowly; that had been the impression he'd gotten, as well. "So... now it will be his job to come after us," he murmured.
"So it would seem, cielo."
The Warden could only wonder at what was going through Zevran's mind, and some of it, he was sure, the assassin wouldn't want to share. Was he wondering what would be said, in such a confrontation? Did he think the other Crow had a chance of succeeding? The only thing Alessar could be certain of was that Zevran was unhappy, and for the Antivan to show as much was a little worrying.
"I'm sorry," the dark-haired elf murmured, meaning it.
"Sorry for what, my dear Warden? Of all involved, you are perhaps the least to blame." Zevran smiled faintly. "I... suppose I am not terribly surprised by this turn of events. As you have heard, the Crows do not abandon their contracts, and once word reached the Crows that I had failed... Taliesen would have been the most logical choice to complete the job."
"Because... you were friends?" Alessar asked tentatively, unsure if Zevran wanted to talk about the matter in detail.
"Because we had similar martial training... Because we often worked together, and perhaps he would be able to either find the flaws in my initial attack" -- the assassin snorted wryly, since that attack had not been meant to succeed -- "or build off of something I'd set up before. We've done such things in the past, you see, with one of us going in days or weeks earlier to set something up before the other came to trigger the trap, so to speak. But..." He sighed softly. "Yes, also because we were 'friends'."
The Warden caught the somewhat acerbic emphasis on the word. He tilted his head questioningly. "Were you not...?"
Zevran looked at him searchingly for a moment, as if trying to divine the reason behind his asking. "We... did not have friends among the Crows," he said carefully. "Not in the same sense of the word that I would use to describe, for instance, you and Alistair." He tugged at the cuffs of his shirtsleeves, uncharacteristically uncomfortable. "Perhaps you'll recall what I've said before, about every Crow being out for himself? That is not an environment that fosters much friendship."
Alessar nodded in understanding, but his thoughts were whirling rapidly. The assassin's fidgeting, seldom displayed in front of anyone besides the elven Warden, hinted that he wasn't telling everything, but Alessar wasn't sure how far he wanted to press. The last thing he wanted to do was make Zevran angry with inane questions, but while the Antivan had told plenty of stories of his job-related escapades, he'd really said very little about his life beyond that, save for explaining about Rinna. It wasn't that Alessar felt he had a right to know; he simply couldn't help being curious about the other elf's past, the experiences that had made him into who he was now.
Besides, if Zevran hadn't considered Taliesen something like a friend, in the more typical sense, why would he be so clearly affected by Ignacio's comments?
"Then... he was just another Crow you worked with, nothing more than that?" the Warden asked hesitantly.
Zevran's immediate reaction -- a quiet, but noticeable, intake of breath -- wasn't what he'd expected. Why had that struck a nerve?
"He was a good friend to me, as good as one could hope for in such a life as the one we led," the assassin said quietly, looking away from Alessar and towards the distant campfire. After a long moment, he turned back to face the elven Warden, his expression solemn. "We were... very close." He met Alessar's gaze until he was certain the other elf understood what he meant.
Alessar nodded mutely in acknowledgment, his mind feeling frozen and numb for a moment. He tried to reconcile this new knowledge with things the assassin had said before. Zevran disavowed all understanding of love; was that a new attitude, since what had happened with Rinna? Or, just as he discounted friendship among the Crows, was there no such thing as love there, at least in his eyes? Perhaps his relationship with Taliesen was mostly physical? Now the Warden was coming up with a myriad of questions he wasn't sure he wanted answers to.
Some of his anxiety must have shown on his face, and Zevran was adept at reading him anyway; the Antivan elf leaned forward and touched the back of Alessar's hand lightly. "Cielo, I tell you this so that you won't be... surprised if certain things come up in the future." His amber eyes were intent on the Warden, perhaps trying to determine just how badly he'd shaken the other man. "It is all in the past, now."
From someone else, that might have been comforting. Or if Zevran had ever truly declared his feelings for Alessar, it might have been comforting. But without that sort of tangible anchor, the Warden could only wonder what made his relationship with Zevran any different than Taliesen's. Maybe it wasn't.
But the other Crow hadn't been able to keep Zevran in Antiva, apparently... hadn't been enough to avert the elf's death wish. In contrast, the assassin had told Alessar that he was glad to be here, in Ferelden. Maybe that was only because the Warden had given him a chance at a new life, but that was worth something... wasn't it?
The dark-haired elf tried to smile, but again, Zevran saw through the weak attempt. "Ah, this is not what I intended," he said with a quiet sigh. "I have said before that I cannot change my past, yes?"
Alessar realized that the assassin was taking his reaction the wrong way -- as a sort of resentment of his relationship with Taliesen. Well... maybe he did feel some irrational envy, but that wasn't exactly the problem. At least, he didn't think it was. But he didn't think there was any way he could explain that to Zevran, at this point in time. I'm afraid he'll take you back to Antiva. I'm afraid he'll convince you to fight me. I'm afraid I'll have to... The Warden shut his eyes tightly against the thought, drawing the other elf's attention with the sudden movement.
"... If this is something that... changes things between us, my dear Warden..." Zevran began.
"No!" Alessar quickly opened his eyes and met the Antivan's amber gaze. "No..." he repeated, fighting to sound calm. "I... You're right, it's in the past." He shook his head. "And I'd never hold that against you. It... doesn't really have anything to do with me, so how could I?" That sounded as awkward as he felt, but how did one discuss something like this, really?
But that drew a little smile from Zevran. "No... it really doesn't have anything to do with you, cielo." He gently took the Warden's left hand and turned it palm-up, tracing feather-light circles with his thumb. "That is an old tale, now. Ferelden is a new story, and I, for one, am much more interested in learning how this one goes than in rereading something I already know." Leaving off of the circles, he grasped Alessar's fingers lightly and tugged, an unspoken question that was echoed in his eyes.
Alessar wasn't entirely sure he was in the mood -- not after this -- and while he was positive Zevran could change his mind quickly, he didn't know if he should give in. Even if the assassin was simply trying to cheer him up, the Warden wasn't sure he should let the other elf get the impression that a simple distraction would keep his mind off of this conversation -- because it wouldn't, Alessar knew. Now that they knew the Crows' contract was still active, it was going to be difficult to avoid thinking about it.
But... if the worst comes to pass, a quiet voice said in his head, shouldn't you enjoy the time that you have now?
Not a new thought, and something that was true on any given night, these days. When were they not headed into some sort of hideous peril? Tonight he'd learned of a new danger, but that didn't change the fact that tomorrow something would probably try to kill them...
Not a tough decision, in that light. He squeezed Zevran's hand in response, and felt his pulse quicken a little at the heated look the assassin gave him then. How does he do that...?
Zevran rose to his feet then, pulling Alessar up with him. "Ahh, but waiting until the others turn in for the night is going to be absolutely excruciating," the Antivan elf said with a wicked little grin. "Perhaps, in the meantime, I should look for some rope? To test our earlier... hypothesis?"
The assassin's strike was on target this time, and the Warden cursed inwardly as he felt his ears growing hot. Unlike earlier, he wasn't entirely sure whether or not the other elf was joking; he also wasn't sure which of those two possibilities he was hoping for.
.fin.