[Olivier, meanwhile, no worse for the wear besides dented pride courtesy of an embarrassing fictional rivalry brought to life, strolls right out of the war room, making for the kitchen. Her box has already been opened--containing scars that only someone of great scrutiny would notice--and she's only mildly annoyed.
She sees Zevran standing stock-still, less observant than usual, and this is far more unsettling to her.]
[She wants to say it served him right, but the truth is that any good man--Olivier as well--was capable of being manipulated in some way or another. She, too, had blackmail and false information held over her head at one point. Of course, she knows she can't judge him beyond a reasonable measure of disgust at his having a death wish.
All she can do is sip her coffee and try to rebuild whatever Mayfield just tore down anew.]
And have you done enough in your life to prove the bastard wrong? To make your corpse count for something?
[Zevran blinks at her, then laughs a bit.] Perhaps I have. I did help save Ferelden - perhaps all of Thedas - from a Blight, and assisted in killing an archdemon. No small feats, even if I was following the lead of another. But, to be honest, I am certain she could have done it without me.
But to prove the Crow master wrong is easy. To make my life worth Rinna's death...or Taliesen's, who I was forced to kill as well...that is harder.
[Olivier calmly transfers her coffee cup from one hand to the other, then to the side table next to the couch.]
Whoever that woman was, this... "Warden", right? She was fortunate to have someone like you fighting by her side. And whatever those things are that you defeated, I'm certain you were instrumental in it. I've seen you as a man and as a solider, and you're exceptional in a lot of ways.
But you can never make your life worth the cost of someone else's by dying, or by simply trying to be more than you are. You have to reach far beyond your ways and your means and make something incredible, or you're a poor excuse for a life. It isn't hard, Zevran, it's impossible. It's supposed to be.
[In an uncharacteristic move, she finds herself turned away from him, idly staring at the curtains, her chin on one hand.] People who don't properly understand the value of a human life and the cost of taking it should put their damn weapons down and go home. The rest of us will be fine.
[Zevran looks at Olivier in some surprise; he's only heard her speak like this a few times before, and rarely with so many compliments to him included. She's...giving him advice. No, maybe even a pep talk. It's...strange, and considerably flattering.] Well, you have seen a great deal of me lately, Olivier. Am I doing the right things? [He's genuinely curious - maybe even invested - in her answer.]
[She can only half look at him. There's regret swimming on the edges of her mind, brought fresh by the discussions with Nagi when their memories were altered.]
I'm not the one who can answer that. You have to do it yourself. If all you think about is the bodies behind you, you're going in the wrong direction. They knew they would die someday; it's not your place to decide if that was the right time or not. If everything you do makes use of the lessons you've learned from that... what the hell else can you do?
You'll get somewhere if you keep going forward. It's impossible not to. And, for what it's worth...
[There's a small part of her that says she'd like to help him where she can, but she's not sure that's even relevant. It's not even been a year since they met.] ...For what it's worth, I see nothing wrong with the path you're on. Just stop being such a damn pervert.
[Zevran just smiles at most of her advice...but bursts out laughing at the last bit.] Ah, but if I did that, who would even recognize me? No, I'm afraid that is part of my charm. [He winks at her.]
But in any case...thank you for listening to me. You are only the second person I have told...and I have yet to regret the trust I have placed in either of you. [He pauses, there; he can still feel the earring, warm in the palm of his hand. After a moment, he holds his hand out, opening his fingers.] ...you wished to see this, yes?
Yes; it belonged to a man, actually, not a woman. A Rivaini merchant prince - the target of my first mission as a Crow, in fact. He was wearing this...only this...when I killed him. It caught my eye, and I kept it as a sort of memento. I had hardly expected to have it returned to me, to be perfectly honest.
[Another long pause, as he sorts through his thoughts.] Actually, Olivier...I would like you to have it.
You're giving me a naked, dead man's earring. Is there any particular reason for this?
[At least it's ridiculous enough to get her posture to open up slightly, and she turns toward him more fully. She glances up at Zevran, finally, and for a split-second she actually looks a bit strained, worn thin, perhaps worried.]
[Zevran can't help laughing at this description.] Well, when you put it like that...but I hardly expect you to wear it, pretty as it might be - unless you wish to, of course. Keep it, sell it, throw it away, whatever you like. It is a gift, and what you choose to do with it is your own business.
It is, perhaps, the least I can offer you that has any value.
[And he recovers! A little awkwardly, clearing his throat.] Not that I know of, certainly. But, with that done...I think I will have some coffee. [Sensing that 'okay I kind of fell flat on my face there, can we end the conversation now and forget this' vibe? Because he's hoping that will distract you while he flees to the kitchen.]
[Olivier pulls a silver pocket watch of moderate size from her pocket and glances at it, ostensibly looking at the time. Its face, however, is shattered beyond usability. She stares at it for a moment before unhooking the lead of its chain from her belt.]
If there's something else you want to say, I'll listen.
[Because, WOW does that level of awkward feel familiar... And not in a good way. IN a way that has her questioning motives and means and any number of things happened. Still... He's a good man, and an excellent soldier.]
She sees Zevran standing stock-still, less observant than usual, and this is far more unsettling to her.]
Good morning.
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All she can do is sip her coffee and try to rebuild whatever Mayfield just tore down anew.]
And have you done enough in your life to prove the bastard wrong? To make your corpse count for something?
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But to prove the Crow master wrong is easy. To make my life worth Rinna's death...or Taliesen's, who I was forced to kill as well...that is harder.
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Whoever that woman was, this... "Warden", right? She was fortunate to have someone like you fighting by her side. And whatever those things are that you defeated, I'm certain you were instrumental in it. I've seen you as a man and as a solider, and you're exceptional in a lot of ways.
But you can never make your life worth the cost of someone else's by dying, or by simply trying to be more than you are. You have to reach far beyond your ways and your means and make something incredible, or you're a poor excuse for a life. It isn't hard, Zevran, it's impossible. It's supposed to be.
[In an uncharacteristic move, she finds herself turned away from him, idly staring at the curtains, her chin on one hand.] People who don't properly understand the value of a human life and the cost of taking it should put their damn weapons down and go home. The rest of us will be fine.
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I'm not the one who can answer that. You have to do it yourself. If all you think about is the bodies behind you, you're going in the wrong direction. They knew they would die someday; it's not your place to decide if that was the right time or not. If everything you do makes use of the lessons you've learned from that... what the hell else can you do?
You'll get somewhere if you keep going forward. It's impossible not to. And, for what it's worth...
[There's a small part of her that says she'd like to help him where she can, but she's not sure that's even relevant. It's not even been a year since they met.] ...For what it's worth, I see nothing wrong with the path you're on. Just stop being such a damn pervert.
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But in any case...thank you for listening to me. You are only the second person I have told...and I have yet to regret the trust I have placed in either of you. [He pauses, there; he can still feel the earring, warm in the palm of his hand. After a moment, he holds his hand out, opening his fingers.] ...you wished to see this, yes?
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Just one? Not a set?
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[Another long pause, as he sorts through his thoughts.] Actually, Olivier...I would like you to have it.
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[At least it's ridiculous enough to get her posture to open up slightly, and she turns toward him more fully. She glances up at Zevran, finally, and for a split-second she actually looks a bit strained, worn thin, perhaps worried.]
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It is, perhaps, the least I can offer you that has any value.
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Why does it mean so much to you?
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I just - look, simply...take it. It's as simple as that.
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The hell.
Was that.
Just now.
She has never, EVER--not even due to Mayfield stupidity or otherwise--seen Zevran like this.]
What the hell is wrong with you? It's not poisoned is it?
[She's fucking taking it though. Right out of his hand. Slowly, and with dignity, but... Yes.]
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If there's something else you want to say, I'll listen.
[Because, WOW does that level of awkward feel familiar... And not in a good way. IN a way that has her questioning motives and means and any number of things happened. Still... He's a good man, and an excellent soldier.]
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