Modifié par jenovan, 19 août 2010 - 06:06 .
Kornichon wrote...
Soignee = ZOMG I love your Zev! very hot and great work! <3
I'm really not imaginative about a Zev's hair story so I won't participate.... but I've just have fun with a confrontation Zev/Tabris
hope you'll like it :3
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soignee wrote...
Also holy *balls* Zevthread, have we all snorted creative dust this month? ART! FICTION! EVERYYYYYWHERE.
Corker wrote...
soignee wrote...
Also holy *balls* Zevthread, have we all snorted creative dust this month? ART! FICTION! EVERYYYYYWHERE.
Must have been the Mars-Jupiter planetary conjunction. COSMIC VIBES, MAN.
soignee wrote...
Corker wrote...
soignee wrote...
Also holy *balls* Zevthread, have we all snorted creative dust this month? ART! FICTION! EVERYYYYYWHERE.
Must have been the Mars-Jupiter planetary conjunction. COSMIC VIBES, MAN.
...I got Age of Aquarius in my head again >:|
I like your drawing style. Purple Lady wrote...
@Maradeux, nice story. It feels as if Zevran was tender as if to apologize for killing her. After all, nothing required that he did it for his job of assassination to be done.
soignee wrote...
Corker wrote...
soignee wrote...
Also holy *balls* Zevthread, have we all snorted creative dust this month? ART! FICTION! EVERYYYYYWHERE.
Must have been the Mars-Jupiter planetary conjunction. COSMIC VIBES, MAN.
...I got Age of Aquarius in my head again >:|
Modifié par maradeux, 19 août 2010 - 07:14 .
soignee wrote...
Man, I *wonder* who would play Snooki in Antivan Shore? Gosh, so hard to come up with someone:
Nothing is coming to mind. Nope.
Modifié par Nilfalasiel, 20 août 2010 - 10:41 .
Purple Lady wrote...
Zevran is brilliant in this comic. [smilie]../../../images/forum/emoticons/love.png[/smilie]
The author is Rooster 82.
Here is a link to the first page of the comic.
http://rooster82.dev...llery/#/d2h8uyq
Nonvita wrote...
In Zevran-related news, I forgot to do my entry for the mini-contest. [smilie]../../../images/forum/emoticons/sad.png[/smilie]
Nilfalasiel wrote...
As for Zev and how he felt in regards to his victims: I think he's always had a measure of "might as well make their final moments pleasant" to him. And he did mention that he preferred clean kills. .
Modifié par maradeux, 20 août 2010 - 11:42 .
maradeux wrote...
btw - don't understand this "Antivan Shore" thing...
Over-explaining a specialty!
Why would it be creepy for an artist to request a reference picture?
jenovan said...
Prompt: Hair! (cue music)
Is Zevran really "a fool who spends too much time on his hair"? Does the Warden appreciate that?Take it and run with it, gaiz XD
Sarah1281 wrote...
So I'm not satisfied with the ending but it's been an hour so here goes:
“You are staring at my hair,” Zevran Arainai announced at camp one night on the way to Denerim.
“Am I?” Aunn Aeducan asked, blinking.
“Yes and for quite some time as well,” he confirmed. “See anything that you like?”
“Clearly I must have or I would have looked away,” Aunn replied. “Well…either that or I really hated it and couldn’t tear my eyes away. As it happens, you were right: I like your hair.”
“I must confess, that’s the sort of thing that I would expect to hear from Leliana rather than you,” Zevran told her.
“Well, she’s already had the ‘I like your hair’ conversation with me, Alistair, Wynne, Sten, and Morrigan so I’m sure she’ll get around to talking to you about yours sooner or later,” Aunn assured him.
“Unless, of course, she doesn’t like my hair,” Zevran pointed out.
Aunn laughed. “Please, Leliana likes everyone’s hair. You’ll get your turn.”
“If she likes everyone’s hair then clearly she’s not very selective,” Zevran reasoned. “And as such, I don’t know how mine compares to other peoples’. You, however, don’t normally go around gushing about how much you love other peoples’ hair so you’d probably be a more telling judge. Of course, you also wouldn’t have told me that you liked mine if I hadn’t caught you staring at it. You don’t seem to go around staring at other peoples’ hair, though, so maybe you are selective. Or maybe I just didn’t notice.”
“Or maybe you are seriously over thinking this,” Aunn told him, rolling her eyes.
“That’s always a possibility,” Zevran conceded. “But in my line of work I’ve found that it pays to over think things rather than risk under thinking them.”
“In my line of work it does, too,” Aunn agreed. She paused. “Although I’m not really sure that being a Princess was a line of work…”
“So what say you? Do you like my hair or not?” Zevran inquired.
Aunn tilted her head. “Does it really matter?”
“Not so much that I’d go around randomly asking strangers or even my companions, no, but since you were already staring and I am getting quite curious I would like some sort of answer,” Zevran replied.
Aunn shrugged. “Alright then: yes, I am fond of your hairstyle. I always have been and it reminds me of-” She cut herself off.
“It reminds you of?” Zevran prompted.
“My brother,” Aunn replied quickly. “His hair was like yours and, now that I think of it, Cailan’s was, too. It’s always seemed to be a very regal style and I do so like regal things.”
“I thought you said that your brother had hair like Alistair’s,” Zevran reminded her.
Aunn shook her head. “Oh no, that was the other one. He always looked much less regal and I suppose that may have helped him keep up his façade of harmlessness all these years…”
“Since I seem to recall you saying that your evil brother looked like Alistair, does that mean that your other brother was not evil?” Zevran asked.
“Trian wasn’t exactly evil just….well, Trian,” Aunn attempted to explain. “Very presumptuous, certainly, and never very fond of me but that’s hardly a crime. And lest I be forced to correct myself later…I’m not entirely sure Bhelen’s evil although since he did try to have me killed and framed me for Trian’s death I reserve the right to call him that.”
“So if your brother who had this hairstyle died and your King who had this hairstyle died-” Zevran started to say.
“Yeah, Cailan was hardly my King,” Aunn interrupted. “My King was my father – who had a completely different hairstyle – although now that I’m exiled I suppose I don’t have a King anymore. I know that I will certainly not accept that a human would have sovereignty over me.”
“That might make it a little difficult to live in Ferelden,” Zevran pointed out.
Aunn shrugged. “Who says I plan on living in Ferelden? I’m just here until the Blight’s over and then I’ll go find something more interesting to do and somewhere more interesting to live.”
“Try Antiva,” Zevran advised. “It’s a fascinating city and so long as you can handle yourself with a sword – which you most certainly can – you won’t have any problems.”
“I’ll think about it,” Aunn said noncommittally. “Although I’ve got to say that living on the Surface at all really doesn’t appeal to me so I doubt I’ll be too thrilled about any of my options. Those are thoughts for later, though; you were saying something about how Trian and Cailan are both dead?”
“Ah, of course,” Zevran said with a nod. “I was saying that, while my hairstyle is pretty phenomenal, if the people you know who had it all died then maybe having this hairstyle isn’t great for my long-term survival plans.”
“Not everyone I know with that hairstyle has been killed,” Aunn countered. “Although the other person I really knew who had it did get crippled so perhaps that’s not the best example…Cailan died because he was on the front line of a battle that turned into a massacre and I really doubt Trian’s hair played much – if any – a part in his death.”
“That may be true but given that assassins don’t have a very high life expectancy and the Crows are already after me, I’m really not sure that I should risk jinxing myself,” Zevran told her.
“You’re not seriously thinking about changing it, are you?” Aunn asked skeptically. “What would you even change it to, anyway?”
“That is a good question,” Zevran remarked, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “I’ve always been so very fond of this style that it really hadn’t occurred to me to change it. How do you think I would look with Alistair’s hair?”
Aunn attempted to picture it and promptly started giggling. “That…that style is hard to take seriously and…well, I just don’t think it’s you.”
“Maybe not,” Zevran agreed. “That’s how Taliesin wears his hair, anyway, and I wouldn’t want him to accuse me of copying him should I ever run into him again and he attempts to kill me. How about that one style the tortured Templar had? Cullen, I think it was.”
“Better than Alistair’s style but still…weird,” Aunn declared.
“Sten’s style?” Zevran suggested.
“That would be really very bizarre,” Aunn nixed. “Plus your hair doesn’t seem long enough for that.”
“Jowan’s style?” Zevran was clearly running out of ideas.
Aunn made a face. “That’s fine if you’re good with me pretending I don’t know you.”
“Wynne’s style?” Zevran asked, looking a little desperate.
“I’m thinking no,” Aunn told him. She paused, considering. “Although…while that ponytail is far too no-nonsense to fit you a ponytail might not be a bad fit if you’re really looking for a change. You could get one like Duncan’s easily enough.”
“Duncan?” Zevran repeated blankly.
“He was the Warden that recruited me and Alistair’s surrogate father,” Aunn explained shortly. “Don’t bring him up around Alistair unless you want to start a very long conversation.”
“I’ll save that for when I have more time or am really bored then,” Zevran decided. “But since I have never met this ‘Duncan’ character then perhaps you can describe to me how his hair looked?”
“There’s…really not much to say, really,” Aunn told him. “And I’ve never been very good at describing things anyway. It was just a low medium-size ponytail that looks like it could be pulled off with hair about your length. It was pretty badass, though. Part of that was just because of how awesome Duncan was but the hair definitely helped.”
“So…like this?” Deftly, Zevran scooped his hair up into a low ponytail very similar to the one Duncan usually sported.
“Pretty much, yes,” Aunn agreed.
Leliana walked up to them then, looking mildly distressed. “Oh, but I was just coming to talk to you about how much I loved your hair! Although, I do like this style, too…”
Corker wrote...
Aidan Cousland hadn’t meant to start eavesdropping. He’d just stepped away from the fire for a moment, towards the latrine Sten insisted they dig every time they stopped, when he heard Zevran and Leiliana talking together quietly. They paused, and he thought perhaps his presence had been noted, but instead they continued on.
“So how do they do it in Orlais?” Zevran was asking.
“It’s very complicated,” Leiliana replied. “I haven’t even bothered to try since I’ve been in Ferelden. And the Chantry frowns on such things.”
“Ah, but you are away from the Chantry now, no? And resuming the life of a bard?”
“Well, yes! But... there are certain supplies I would need.”
“Oh?” Zevran sounded intrigued, and Aidan had to admit that he was as well.
“Some powders, some pigments, but mostly the oil.”
“Oil? They have oil here in Ferelden. This should not be an impediment.”
“It’s not the right kind, Zevran. Trust me on this. It makes all the difference. You can’t just slather on lamp oil or cooking oil.”
“Well, why not? I am eager to see this demonstrated.”
“Well, the stink, for one thing! And the mess. If it’s not to be a great slippery mess, you have to use the right kind.”
“Bah, you tease. I will not be so cruel. You wished to know how I do it?”
“Oh, indeed. From what I can tell, the results are amazing.”
“Why, thank you, my dear bard. See here? Very fine leather thongs.”
“Leather? Really? Isn’t that difficult to work with? I would have thought silk.”
“Silk may be more beautiful, but it slips. Leather gets a good grip and will not slide. Things will stay where you put them.”
“But isn’t it hard to tie?”
“Not at all, if you use the right knots. Here, allow me to demonstrate.”
Aidan, grinning broadly, stepped forward with a smart remark upon his tongue. He stopped in mid-stride at the unlikely scene that presented itself in the fading light of day - Zevran fiddling with one of his braids, tying it off with, yes, a fine leather thong, and Leiliana hovering over him watching carefully.
They both looked up at him, the very picture of innocence. “Yes, Warden?” they chorused expectantly.
“I... was... just heading for the latrine.” Aidan shook his head slightly. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your... grooming session?”
“Oh, it is no bother,” Leiliana said. “Come back when you’re done and we can compare how Fereldens do it.”
“Uh... maybe another time. If you’ll pardon me.” Bemused, he continued on his way.
Bard and assassin traded smirking glances, pleased with their impromptu performance. “You’re quite quick-witted, Zevran,” Leiliana smiled. “Have you ever thought about learning the bard’s trade?”
“That depends.” He raised an eyebrow. “Will it involve the oil you mentioned?”
Hilde wrote...
Zevran watched Aurelie as she knelt by the stream, cleaning her armor and what little clothing she seemed to possess. Even now her hair was wrapped tight at the base of her neck. He had longed to see her hair, black as a starless sky, down around her shoulders. Every morning as she exited her tent, or in the months past, Alistair’s tent, her hair had already been pinned up. For months he had watched this ritual, an unhappy shadow playing across her face as she readied for the day, but as she caught his eye a smile full of warmth always greeted him.
This had intrigued him. Aurelie had begun to seek out his company during their long marches and during the increasingly cold evenings at the campfire. She would not always press him with questions, but would sit comfortably near him, content until that fool Alistair would intrude and lead her into his tent.
He slowly moved to where she now sat polishing her daggers, she smiled as he sat next to her. She did not flinch away from his touch as his hand moved across her hair from her temple to the base of her neck, but locked eyes with him.
“My dear Warden, always with those serious eyes and hair pulled tight, even while doing such mundane tasks as these,” said Zevran. “you must learn to let your hair down..so to speak.”
His hands moved quickly to undo the buns then the braids, watching in wonder as her long way hair fell across her shoulders. Running his hands through Aurelie’s hair and feeling her tension melt away, he wondered as to why she did not let anyone see her in this way.
Aurelie’s hand went to Zevran’s hair in return and followed the same path his hands had through her hair.
“You know, you should follow your own advice.” Aurelie said with a smile.
She worked at his braids undoing them and letting his hair fall forward into his face. The gesture had been so full of warmth it had startled Zevran, it had been unexpected, but as she ran her hands through his now down hair he let his eyes close, enjoying the movement of her hand, the dance of her fingernails across his scalp. When he reopened his eyes she had moved closer to him and he took the opportunity to move in, to close the distance and taste her inviting lips.
As he closed in Alistair’s voice intruded, no doubt looking for Aurelie, jealous and protective of her as he had become as she spent more of her time in Zevran’s company.
“Aurelie! Zevran!, Maker, has anyone seen them?” Alistair yelled, drawing nearer.
Much to his surprise and pleasure she did not move away, but sighed, discontented and with a quick smile pressed her lips to his. The kiss had been quick and chaste, but full of promise. Aurelie did not speak as she gathered her pack to return to camp, and as she walked towards camp, towards Alistair, she turned to smile reassuringly back at Zevran. Walking back across the camp he heard Aurelie ask Alistair “Can we talk?” as he found his way to his tent...
As Zevran readied himself the next morning by the campfire, he looked up to see Aurelie exiting her tent, alone. Her hair was down; the soft waves cascaded down her shoulders, softening the lines of her face making her fair skin glow in the soft light of dawn. The shadow that had been ever present was no longer visible across her eyes and as she sat near him to eat, her hand brushed his, a subtle and inviting gesture. The glare on the faces of Wynne and a few other companions as well as the poorly masked hatred on Alistair’s face told him that what he had hoped for since joining her company had suddenly become a possibility. A possibility he truly did not intend to waste.
soignee wrote...
Hair: An Antivan Play, in two parts.
maradeux wrote...
They struck the camp and were preparing for the departure. Tenuvien packed up her few belongings, and Zevran was once again the last to return from his morning toilet. He clamped his hand mirror in the fork of a bare tree and thoroughly combed his long, still damp hair. When he noticed that Tenuvien surreptitiously observed him, he grinned and twisted his braids with special care. The elven woman has finished the packing and walked a few steps toward Zevran.
"You know, sometimes you remind me of an old tale my mother once told me. It's the story about a beautiful woman."
Zevran chuckled as he fastened the braids on the back part of his head. "About a woman? That sounds interesting. Will you tell me the tale?" He put his hand mirror and comb in a belt pouch and began to pack his things.
Tenuvien took a deep breath as she quickly helped Zevran with the packing, because the others were already going off. "All right then ... this woman was sitting on the top of a giant rock on the bank of a dangerous river. Thereby she was combing her golden hair with a golden comb, thereby she was singing a song. The fishermen, who saw and heard her, were so enraptured by the sight that they forgot to mind the river's flow. Their boats were smashed on the rocks and they were drowned in the flood."
Zevran picked up his bag and laughed: "And I remind you of this woman?"
Tenuvien shrugs: "Well, why not? You seduce people, they die. You certainly don't have a rock or a river, but your weapons and traps are just as deadly."
Zevran gave Tenuvien an amused glimpse, "And, would it work for you?"
Her eyes met his only briefly, while she - her bundle on her back - went off. "I hope not," she said and "I'm afraid so," she thought...
ICevoL wrote...
A flurry of cursing met KaiLynn’s ears as he approached the stream near their camp. At least, he assumed it was cursing, based on the muttering anger in Zevran’s voice as the words flew fast and furious through the night air. Kai didn’t speak Antivan, but he recognized frustration when he heard it.
As he rounded a large tree, Kai saw Zevran kneeling with a bucket and soap on the ground next to him, hair loose from his braids and dripping in a blond mass down his bare back. He held a mirror in one hand and a wide-toothed comb in the other. Zevran was angling the mirror and trying to use the comb at the same time when KaiLynn cleared his throat to announce himself. “Something wrong?”
Zevran turned his head to look at Kai, the mirror and comb dropping to his sides as he sighed loudly. “I have chunks of debris in my hair from when that creature exploded right beside me earlier today. Despite my best efforts, I have made little progress in getting it out.”
Kai flushed, embarrassment climbing up the back of his neck to know he was – at least indirectly – the cause of any hair-related angst on Zevran’s part. It certainly wasn’t the first time that Kai had used the spell, but it had never activated so close to the party before. He usually targeted better than that.
Kai crouched down next to where Zevran knelt by the stream and visually examined the back of Zevran’s hair. He wouldn’t touch – didn’t dare – without warning or permission. He held out his hand for the comb. “Considering this is my fault, perhaps I can assist?”
Kai wasn’t using this as an excuse to touch Zevran. Really, he wasn’t.
Zevran tilted his head to the side, eyes assessing KaiLynn with their usual discomfiting acuity. “I would be a fool to refuse such a generous offer. By all means, your help would be… appreciated.”
Kai suppressed a shiver of longing when that voice all but caressed his skin. He was getting a lot of practice at hiding his reactions to the other elf, as these little moments of awareness were occurring with increasing frequency. Kai knew better than to assume an actual interest on Zevran’s part, considering that he seemed to flirt as effortlessly as he breathed.
Zevran handed KaiLynn the comb and gave him the back of his head. Using the comb, Kai lifted the strands at the base of Zevran’s neck and quickly saw the issue. Whatever had worked its way into the fine strands of hair had dried into a tight, sticky knot. Setting the comb aside, he gathered a small pile of sticks and dead leaves, feeling Zevran’s curious gaze following him as he moved. When he had the pile arranged, Kai closed his eyes and pulled on the energy within himself, channeling it through his hands as he incanted, and the pile caught fire. Kai normally wouldn’t use magic for such a mundane task, but he didn’t feel like running back to camp for a flint.
With the fire lit, KaiLynn fetched the metal bucket from beside Zevran and filled it with fresh stream water before placing it atop the flames. “The… material is sort of glued in there. Hot water should help loosen it up.”
Zevran favored him with a crooked smile. “Good idea.”
While the water was heating, Kai reached into the pouch at his waist where he carried his spell components. Finding the small bottle of oil with his fingers, he pulled it out and showed it to Zevran. “This is an anticoagulant. I can use this too, if you… um… don’t mind my fingers in your hair?” Kai couldn’t prevent the blush from rising back up his neck as he made the suggestion. While the task was hardly sexual, there was something inherently intimate about touching another person’s hair.
Zevran said nothing for a moment, then his smile softened. “I do not mind you touching me, Grey Warden. Do what you will.”
To KaiLynn’s complete relief, Zevran turned his head away, giving Kai a moment to compose himself. Regardless of the bystander damage to Zevran’s hair from Kai’s spell, he was starting to question his own sanity for asking to do this. Being so close to what he couldn’t have was pure self-torture.
KaiLynn was starting to believe he had a previously unacknowledged masochistic streak.
He slowly worked the oil into the knot of hair and bodily detritus, feeling relieved when the strands slowly started to separate themselves from the mess. Once he had most of the grime worked out, he went to check the water temperature and found it was warm enough. Kai grabbed the soap on the way back and used it in concert with the warm water to remove the oil. With that done, he allowed himself the small indulgence of using the comb to take several long strokes through the fine strands of golden hair. When Kai could delay no longer, he set the comb down and backed out of Zevran’s personal space. “I think that’s all of it.”
Zevran turned around to face KaiLynn, shuffling forward to reduce the distance between them until they knelt with less than an inch of space separating their knees. “Pity -- I was just beginning to enjoy myself. Are you certain you’re done just yet?”
Kai’s breath caught at the open challenge in Zevran’s expression, silently daring him to take a risk for once and reach for what he wanted. He felt himself leaning forward and forced himself to stop, instead pressing to his feet. “I… I need to get back… to camp, I mean. My turn to cook and…” Andraste help him, he was rambling badly. Zevran’s expression hadn’t changed, eyes still fixed on Kai with clear intent and making him wonder about his own assumptions. Maybe…
Kai shook his head at himself, trying to physically extricate the delusion from his brain. “I’m sorry about the mess.”
He couldn’t say for sure if the apology was about Zevran’s hair, or about Kai himself.
-Fin-
payroo wrote...
i36.tinypic.com/2d792zm.jpg
Halae Dral wrote...
Zevran had been quite surprised - both pleasantly and somewhat less so - by the change in Zemariel's appearance after they had stayed in Arl Eamon's estate for several days and had time for a long bath. On the one hand, the Warden cleaned up nicer than Zevran had expected, but on the other hand it had given him cause to wonder just how long it had been since the other elf had previously had a proper bath.
His hair was what Zevran was admiring at the moment from his vantage point on the bed. He had always been of the opinion that the Warden's hair was a dark, sort of muddy brown before; now he believed that this had been largely due to... well, mud. Not a completely pleasant thought, but there it was. Now, as he watched Zemariel polish and sharpen his various swords while sitting in the chair by the fireside of their room in the estate, Zevran noticed that the Warden's hair was actually several shades lighter than he had thought. He had left his hair loose, and the effect of it framing his face was to make his face look less gaunt and angular. The reddish highlights picked up by the light of the fire were also not something that Zevran would have predicted.
Zemariel looked up from polishing the sword he was currently working on - a rather old and battered one that he had possessed ever since Zevran had met him, but seemed unwilling to part with - and smiled. "Sovereign for your thoughts?" he asked.
"Surely they are not worth so much," Zevran replied. "I was simply watching you. You clean up rather nicely, you know."
"Do I?"
As always when Zevran complimented him on his appearance, the other elf seemed genuinely surprised. He would get over that eventually, Zevran was sure.
"You do. I am quite fond of your hair, I believe. It is not a colour that is found often in Antiva."
"You've never mentioned it before." Zemariel laid the sword aside, and picked up the next one in line - this time one Zevran had actually seen him use - but did not begin oiling it yet.
"True. It has not looked the same before."
Zemariel laughed. "I guess I never really paid much attention to it. There hasn't really been time on the road to do anything much more than take a quick swim in a river to clean up."
Zevran grimaced. "I shall have to break you of that habit, my dear Warden. I can assure you that it does not take very much work to keep your hair from becoming a different colour entirely."
"Well, if you like it, I'll certainly make an effort."
"I do indeed." Zevran swung himself off of the bed and moved over to stand behind Zemariel's chair. "Now, can I help you with this? I am sure it will go much faster that way, and there are things I believe you and I would both rather spend the evening doing."
- - (Somewhat Abrupt) End - -
Minaleth wrote...
Lots of great stuff this week, guys! This prompt business seems to be working out well
Modifié par jenovan, 20 août 2010 - 04:19 .
Modifié par Hilde, 20 août 2010 - 05:04 .
Modifié par soignee, 20 août 2010 - 04:58 .
maradeux wrote...
and... t-shirt? Who needs a t-shirt? I would prefer to read more stories about Zev and KaiLynn.
payroo wrote...
@ICevoL: hmm, $12 isn't that much for a t-shirt, but needs more zevran on it! thanks for the heads-up though.
maradeux wrote...
A Simple Mission
*waits anxiously for smirky!Zevran goodness*soignee wrote...
weeee thanks for the smirk screenies, smirkkkky Zevran is a-go!
Modifié par ICevoL, 20 août 2010 - 05:23 .
Modifié par ICevoL, 20 août 2010 - 05:35 .
Modifié par maradeux, 20 août 2010 - 07:59 .
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