[OOM] Settling In
The room that Zevran leads Zak to, number 715, is much like the Antivan himself. Small, neat, clean, yet cheerful in its own way and a far cry from the rooms he keeps in Antiva City. Those are nothing more than a place to stay and a place to work, a place to keep the more sinister tools of his profession, not a place to really share with others. Milliways, however, is different. Zevran had decided early on that it was going to be his retreat from the Crows and their rules, for while he loves the life on the whole it is nice to be able to get away when he wishes to.
The bed is not massive, but it's still large enough for two to sleep comfortably even with space between them. There's a cover of crimson silk over the sheets and blankets, and the windows are hung with cheery yellow-orange silk panels, layered over thinner cream-colored ones, more to provide color than to keep out the light. Right now, they and the bed cover all give a warm and comforting glow as the light from the low-burning fire and the lamps catches them. A simple wooden table in one corner is covered with neatly labeled pouches and jars of what look like herbs and various liquids, along with a tumbled mess of lock picks, locks, bits of metal, and so on. Zevran unloops the ties of the leather pouch from his belt and tosses the caltrops onto the table, followed by the bundle of tools.
"Make yourself comfortable," the Antivan invites as he begins to unbuckle the straps that hold his daggers and sheathes. "You will find the bath, sink, and so on through that door over there. Feel free to use them as you need to." Zevran sets the daggers aside, and then sits down on the edge of the bed, removing his knee cops and greaves before starting on one of his bracers.
"Would you consider wine to be satisfactory? I've a good red that lends itself well to spices and warming, if you are interested. I find it very pleasant for both sleep and the digestion."
In Antiva, offering someone alcohol is simple courtesy and a sign of good will. Wine is an integral part of the culture, and should not be viewed as an attempt to get someone drunk, or to incapacitate. Sometimes a drink really is just a drink, and even Zevran is capable of making offers that have no ulterior motive behind them.
The bed is not massive, but it's still large enough for two to sleep comfortably even with space between them. There's a cover of crimson silk over the sheets and blankets, and the windows are hung with cheery yellow-orange silk panels, layered over thinner cream-colored ones, more to provide color than to keep out the light. Right now, they and the bed cover all give a warm and comforting glow as the light from the low-burning fire and the lamps catches them. A simple wooden table in one corner is covered with neatly labeled pouches and jars of what look like herbs and various liquids, along with a tumbled mess of lock picks, locks, bits of metal, and so on. Zevran unloops the ties of the leather pouch from his belt and tosses the caltrops onto the table, followed by the bundle of tools.
"Make yourself comfortable," the Antivan invites as he begins to unbuckle the straps that hold his daggers and sheathes. "You will find the bath, sink, and so on through that door over there. Feel free to use them as you need to." Zevran sets the daggers aside, and then sits down on the edge of the bed, removing his knee cops and greaves before starting on one of his bracers.
"Would you consider wine to be satisfactory? I've a good red that lends itself well to spices and warming, if you are interested. I find it very pleasant for both sleep and the digestion."
In Antiva, offering someone alcohol is simple courtesy and a sign of good will. Wine is an integral part of the culture, and should not be viewed as an attempt to get someone drunk, or to incapacitate. Sometimes a drink really is just a drink, and even Zevran is capable of making offers that have no ulterior motive behind them.