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[Corker]

Antivan
ZevThread prompt: Zevran + Taliesen


The cathedral bells began to toll the hour; supper would be served in the mess. It would probably be for the best if he did not go out for his food tonight, Zevran thought, getting stiffly to his feet. He'd quite pushed his luck with out already.

He opened the door of his suite and, to his mild surprise, revealed Taliesen, standing there with one hand raised as if to knock. "My friend!" Zevran greeted him. "I was just headed to the mess, if you would care to -- "

Taliesen's brows drew together in a scowl. "Your friend? Hardly know it, would you?" He cocked his head and lifted both hands in a questioning shrug. "What the hell, Zevran? What were you thinking?"

"...That I was hungry and would go to the mess?"

One of the upraised hands shot out suddenly, hitting him square in the chest and sending him stumbling back a few feet. Taliesen followed, pulling the door shut behind him. "Don't f---ing play games with me, Zev."

"And I thought you liked to play f---ing games," Zevran said sadly, looking Taliesen over suggestively. 

That did not, alas, distract the angry human. "I know where you've been," Taliesen said, tone accusatory. "Why?"

Zevran shrugged - and promptly wished he hadn't as his back protested. "Ah," he began, using the verbal tic to cover the pain, "well. Master Arainai thought I should go to Rialto to study poisons, so..."

"So you've been in Rialto for two months? And what, the only carriage going left in the middle of the night? And you were spotted coming in the north gate because that's obviously the gate one uses when returning from Rialto, in the south?"

"Taliesen," Zevran said very carefully, "Master Arainai has let it be known that I am just returned from Rialto. I would not be so quick to question that."

Taliesen stepped closer and hooked a finger in the lacings in the front of Zevran's shirt. He tugged it down before Zevran could protest; the bandages around his torso were clearly visible. "Rough trip?"

"Let it be, Taliesen," Zevran warned him again, brushing the hand away.

But the other Crow was nothing if not stubborn. "Did Ludovico say something to you? I'll pound his face in."

Zevran perked up. He had no idea what Taliesen might think the obnoxious assassin could have said to him, but Ludovico always deserved a good punching. And it might get Taliesen off this inquisition. "That... might have had something to do with it," he lied. "But do not get yourself in trouble on my account, my friend."

"Feh. He'll just have an accidental fall down the stairs, maybe run into the wall a few times." The human looked to the side, planning the attack in his head. "He knows if he snitches, I can give to him three times worse than what they'll give to me." He looked back at Zevran, and the anger was slowly draining from his face. "You can't let that stuff get to you," he said earnestly, putting a hand on the elf's shoulder. "They're jealous because you're good, Zev. You are not some... some... knife-eared savage, all right? You're a Crow, an Antivan Crow. Don't let 'em tell you otherwise."

Zevran had to smile warmly at this rare moment of real comraderie, steadfastly ignoring the horrified little voice that was protesting Taliesen's assessment of the situation. Of course he must have left the Crows because he wasn't thinking straight. Of course he must have been pushed. Of course his rightful place was back here. "I will not forget it, my friend. Ma serra-- ...Thank you."

[Corker]

Experiencing Technical Difficulties...

Modifié par Corker, 14 janvier 2011 - 01:44 .

[Corker]

Meta-Jealousy
ZevPrompt: Jealousy

Zevran?  Zevran!  Where the hell have you gotten off to?

I am, as ever, at your service, my dear.  I was simply... off for a bit of a stroll.  It has been so quiet, lately.

New weekly prompt: jealousy.  I hinted, a while back, that this threesome thing with Leliana and Kallian was not going to last.

Indeed.  I believe I told the fair bard that I was not inclined to share my dear Warden's affections.

But the bed ended up being negotiable.  Well, how about we take a shot at the end of the thing?  What if you were to think that she was falling for Leliana again?

Oh, I am sure you would much rather write that from Kallian's point of view.  Or perhaps Leliana's.

What?  No, Zevran.  The point is how you handle your feelings.  Since, you know, you usually don't.

Ah, but I am told that viewing the little hints and cracks in my facade is a part of my charm, yes?  I am the puzzle box which must be teased open.  What puzzle will there be, if you tell this tale from my eyes, mm?

Dude, the prompt is jealousy.  I'm pretty sure there's not going to be a big mystery over what's in the box.  It's in the title.  Come on, work with me.  Bedroom, brilliant white morning light, fluffy blankets, Kallian with Leliana snuggled behind her.  You're looking at Leliana sleeping and thinking...

Two lovely ladies in my bed? What's not to like?

Excuse me?  Are you even listening to me?

...I beg your pardon?  I was distracted by the bosoms.

Maker's breath, why are you being so difficult?

Well, it's quite hard to concentrate when there are so many fine bosoms on display.

Oh, for the love of... You had a fifteen thousand-word long porntastic fill.  And you were the noble hero of an even longer fill.  No pouting because I'm writing some fem slash.

I would protest that most of those fifteen thousand words were spent with Leliana, not with my Kallian.  And now Leliana and Kallian are cavorting whilst I am off doing what?  Mocking Alistair at the Pearl.  Amusing, yes, but not nearly as satisfying.

And never mind that it cements the Kallian/Leliana pairing more firmly with the readers?

I... suppose I may have a concern along that line, yes. 

So you are jealous.

Since I have had so little 'screen time,' as they say, I do not even know!  Perhaps if there were some more context, I could better answer your --

Did I not start this conversation asking you to hit Wardrobe and Makeup?

But you are leaping the firearm! 

Jumping the gun.

As I said.  How can I find my 'motivation,' I believe they say, for the scene, when there is such a gap between the now and the then?  Perhaps I am not jealous.  Perhaps Leliana will have given her heart to another by then.  Who can say?

I can!  I am the author!  

Pah.  Then you should know better.

So... you're feeling left out.  I get it.  I've got every intention of doing that f!Brosca massage fill for you, you know.

Yes, I have been waiting very patiently for that one.  Imagine my surprise when I saw you writing something for Odessa instead!

Hey man, I don't cross her.  If she doesn't get her way, I turn around and find everything else I'm working on hog-tied and gagged.

Perhaps I should start assassinating rival works, then.  And now, what is this?  Alliterative poetry?  This has nothing to do with Thedas at all!

Sorry.  Deadlines.  (sigh)  Okay.  I'm sorry if you're feeling neglected.  I tell you what.  I'll go, see if I can hunt up a nice Zevran/f!Tabris prompt, just for you and Kalli, all right?  

I want it at least as long as the one you are doing now.

No promises.  But if it's short, maybe we can do something about your adventures at the Pearl.

Oh?  That might be amusing.  But no Oghren.

Oh come on! 

...perhaps if there is a bath involved.

[Corker]

Frightening Appearance
ZevPrompt: Tattoos

"This is... a lot of ink, my dear Warden."  Zevran looked at the charcoal sketch, then up at Adriana Cousland.  "A Dalish elf would think it was, perhaps, a bit much."

"No, Zev, it's just right."  Adriana practically vibrated excitement, beaming over his shoulder at the picture.  It showed her own face, features masked by a pattern of tiled scales around her eyes.  Faux horns swooped across her forehead, into the hairline, and the snout covered her own nose, mouth and chin.  Scales even descended her neck.  Two spots near the bend of her jaw were about all that was left bare.

He hadn't minded covering her arms with scales.  Her back was a larger project, and he had to start to wonder if maybe she was taking the dragon theme a bit far.  Once the back was done, though, it only made sense to continue the tail, wrapped around her right leg.  He'd been expecting a request for the other leg to come soon, but her face?

"Adriana," he protested, "you understand... this does not come off, yes?  Your lovely face will be wearing this mask always."

She poked him in the shoulder, hard.  "I'm not an idiot.  Yes, I know it doesn't come off.  I'm not a lovely person, Zev.  I know things, about pain and blood, power and death."  She leaned forward, suddenly soft against his back.  "You even taught me some of them," she said, low in his ear.  "The Wardens taught me others.  And the dragon... the dragon taught me most of all."

She said she didn't believe the dragon was the Risen Andraste, as Kolgrim called her.  That was... somewhat reassuring.  But she idolized the great lizard all the same, to lengths that he'd thought were eccentric... until he remembered some of his own excesses, upon becoming a full Crow.  Whatever had passed in the Frostbacks, it had made a new woman out of Adriana Cousland, and that sort of rebirth could cause all sorts of enthusiasms.

"Yes, of course.  I have practically transformed you into a dragon, amora," he said, tilting his head back to look up at her.  "I may be somewhat jealous of this dragon, in fact."

She laughed, a hard sound.  "Awww.  You like my pretty face?"  Her features set.  "I hate it.  It's... false.  And I'm not some Orlesian bard, hiding behind pretty.  I'm a terror in the dark, and they should fear me."

He reached up to touch one of her sun-kissed cheeks.  "I would miss this, yes," he said, trying a smile. 

Unexpectedly, she grabbed his wrist roughly.  "I don't care!  It's mine," she hissed.  "There is damn little left in the world I can say that about.  It's mine and I'll do with it as I please.  If you won't do it, then I'll find someone who -- "

"Warden!" he protested.  "I did not mean... of course, of course it can be ask you desire."  She would have it done, whether he liked it or not.  He would still rather be her artist; if anyone was going to mark her so, it should be him.  And he might be able to... soften the design some, make the lines more graceful.  "Let me... let me practice the designs, perhaps craft a variation or two to show you, and you tell me which pleases you best."

The iron grip on his wrist eased, and she pressed it to her lips for a kiss.  "Sorry, Zev," she mumbled into the fine skin there.  "Didn't mean to get so angry.  But I know what I'm doing.  Really."

He turned in place, sketch fluttering to the ground.  Ideas for abstracting and softening the design dissolved as he ran his fingers through her hair.  "Of course, my fearsome Warden."

[Corker]

Cruel to the End
ZevPrompt: Loyalty

"I'm hungry," Oghren announced, halting before the door of the Gnawed Noble Tavern.

"Thirsty, more like," Zevran observed dryly.

"Heh, that too," Oghren readily admitted.  "But I could go for a bowl of something hot.  Think Her Nibs can spare you long enough to eat?"

"Of course," Zevran replied, carefully light with his tone.  

Oghren rolled forward through the door.  "Ain't no 'of course' about it," he muttered as they seated themselves at a table.  He kept shooting furtive glances at Zevran from under his bushy red eyebrows until the assassin sighed.  "Do I have something in my teeth?  A burr in my hair?  What, Oghren?"

"Nothin'," the dwarf grunted, signalling one of the staff for two meals.  Then he sighed and pursed his lips.  "Probably ain't my place to say.  But you're all right.  Down in the Deep Roads, you look out for those you fight with, you know?  Yeah."  He leaned forward suddenly, head tilted up to look Zevran in the eye.  "Go.  Get gone.  Your Crow friends are dead and there's lots of ships in the harbor.  Just go and I'll handle Her Nibs."

"Because we fight together, you counsel me to cowardice?  I believe I should be insulted, Oghren."  Zevran smiled, but there was no warmth in it.

"That ain't it," the dwarf growled, "and you know it.  She don't treat you right."

"Your concern is touching," Zevran said flatly.  "But misplaced."  He summoned up a smile and a leer.  "Perhaps I prefer such treatment, no?"

The dwarf sat back abruptly, eyes uncertain.  "Then... I lost my appetite," he said, shaking his head.  He slid out of the booth and turned to the door, then stopped, his back to the elf.  "You're a demon in a fight, good scout, fast with a dirty joke," Oghren said quietly.  "Any unit above or below the Stone that didn't have rocks for brains would be happy to have you.  You got options.  Just sayin'."

"You are right," Zevran said coolly, and Oghren half-turned back to the table.  "It is not your place to say."

The dwarf's shoulders slumped.  Shaking his shaggy head, he stumped back out the door, into the marketplace.

[Corker]

The one who repents, who has faith,
Unshaken by the darkness of the world,
She shall know true peace.

Transfigurations 10:1. He could not have recited it if asked, but knew it upon hearing it. Old, familiar, threadbare Chant of Light, echoing unheeded in the marble cathedral of Antiva City, the day after the Satinalia revels were done. The same as a dozen years before, the call to solemn reflection and repentance after the vigorous excess that had gone before.

But this year, he heard it.

Ridiculous nonsense, he told himself. I am of the darkness of the world, a merchant of death in a land of grasping, greedy fiends, who buys children on the open market and has them broken to a short life of murder. There is no true peace for me.

All men are the Work of our Maker's Hands,
From the lowest slaves
To the highest kings.
Those who bring harm
Without provocation to the least of His children
Are hated and accursed by the Maker.

Just so. Hated and accursed. Miserable, accursed life, his portion from an uncaring and absent god. Best not to fight it, if it was the Maker’s will, yes?

But...

Many are those who wander in sin,
Despairing that they are lost forever,
But the one who repents, who has faith
Unshaken by the darkness of the world,
And boasts not, nor gloats
Over the misfortunes of the weak, but takes delight
In the Maker's law and creations, she shall know
The peace of the Maker's benediction.

He could not shake it. The verses followed him, coming to mind at odd moments. He had a priest sent for, spoke with her, but she had not the courage of her prophet. She made excuses for him, suggested he spend some of his considerable fortune on good works to make amends for his many sins. He had her sent away again.

At length, he realized that he did not want the Maker’s benediction.

Preparations were surprisingly simple. He handed his keys to his apprentice, packed his bag and left. Would he get the keys back if he returned? Would they try to kill him while he was away? He considered the questions dispassionately, not really caring much about the answers. No, that was not true - he rather hoped someone would be foolish enough to send men after him. A good fight, a good kill was the only thing that warmed him, these days.

But the voyage to Amaranthine was uneventful, and the trip along the North Road to the Imperial Highway even moreso. No bandits, robbers or Dalish raiders. Instead, tiny freeholds along the road supported armored knights charged with the road’s defense. And to his absolute astonishment, not a single one of them attempted to extort money out of him, despite the fine carriage he’d hired.

It stuck in his craw to admit it, but perhaps Alistair was not a complete failure as a king, after all. That sinking feeling was only amplified when he stayed a night at Highever; Teyrn Fergus remembered him from the months he’d spent at court, just after the seige, until the Crows had come looking for him. The Warden-King had, by all accounts, grown into his crown, relying on Arl Eamon less and less as the years went by. He had married a Nevarran princess some years back, cementing an alliance between the two former territories of Orlais. Empress Celene was said to have been livid about the entire thing.

It would have been so much easier if he were a nothing, a puppet king on a gilded throne, because then Zevran would have been right, it should have been Alistair who took that final blow. ...But she’d made him a king, and a king he was.

He switched conveyances when they reached the Imperial Highway, where the road was full of traders going to and from Orzammar. He had not really heard much of anything at the funeral, so this was the first time he had news of House Brosca, founded by the first Paragon casteless, and filled to bursting with dusters eager to show their worth and dignity. He had directed his driver to head up the mountain and, on foot, entered the Hall of Heroes. The statue was ridiculous. But the branded faces strutting around the Commons, doing their business openly, carrying their blades with pride...

It was too much. He left hurriedly, surprised at how difficult it was to not weep. He did not think that he had tears in him, anymore.

The road up to Haven was too steep for the carriage, but it was well-traveled and patrolled by templars these days. Pilgrims came in a steady stream, resting in the village... well, a fair-sized town, now... before sojourning up the mountain to the ancient temple.

The traps had long been deactivated and the dragon muck cleared out; visitors offered prayers in the long-neglected side chapels and scholars eagerly awaited their turn to glimpse the books Morrigan had once suggested they burn for warmth. Templars escorted large groups out the original exit, now well-repaired, and up the pass to the Gauntlet.

That would be where most would end their journey. They would approach those great doors, kneel and kiss the stone of the building that housed the Ashes of Andraste, and consider themselves touched by her presence. Any who wished to go further would be discouraged, warned by the templars of the grave dangers of the Gauntlet. But those who truly wished to be tested to be proved worthy of directly beholding Her mortal remains were, generally, allowed to do so.

Zevran did not feel like justifying himself to a Chantry lackey. He waited for a large, noisy group to proceed up the mountain, and simply vanished once they were outside. The bored templar never noticed - while he dutifully checked for enraptured pilgrims who might have missed the call to return to the temple, he was not looking for those who did not wish to be found.

And why should he? Zevran mused as he slipped between the double doors. The ashes have their own Guardian, after all.

“I bid you welcome, pilgrim.”

“And good day to you, Guardian.” He had meant for his tone to be light, but the words came out harsh and hard. “I have been here before, yes?”

The spirit tipped its head slightly to the side. “Yes,” he said slowly. “You have already beheld the Ashes of Andraste. Is that blessing not enough?”

He considered lying, but, remembering how the spirit seemed to know certain things, he decided against it. “I do not come for the ashes, but for the test.”

“I... see.” The Guardian gazed at him with those uncannily placid brown eyes. “This is... not typical.”

“I swear upon my honor that I will not disturb or harm the sacred ashes, spirit.”

“I believe you,” the spirit nodded. “And you removed the heretics who were threatening the ashes. For this, I will grant your request.” Zevran nodded brusquely and started forward, but the spirit continued, reciting the same words it had years before. “Before you go, there is something I must ask. I can see that the path that led you -- ”

“Here was not an easy one, no, and yes.”

“I did not ask -- ”

“And I say my answer is yes. Now, may I?”

The Guardian shook his head sadly, but gestured. The door opened.

It took all of his considerable discipline not to interrupt the riddling spirits, either before they finished their riddle or before they finished their moralizing. He would do this right, give the spirits here no cause to hold him back or cast him out. When Disciple Havard finally disappeared in a flash of light, the far door slid noiselessly open.

He felt a strange thrill in his gut, a sense of keen nervous anticipation of Something. He had felt it lined up with the other boys as the Crow buyer had looked them over; when he had left the safehouse on his first mission; while he and Taliesen had waited for Rinna, blades in their hands; as the scout had come trotting down the road, Wardens at her heels; the moment of hesitation before he had admitted, to her and to himself, that she was more than a dalliance or a distraction.

Whatever happened next, things would be changed. He would be changed.

For better, or for worse?

He stepped forward.

-----------

“Hey, salroka.” She was smiling at him, a small and sad smile unlike the triumphal grin he remembered.

His mouth worked; he tried to say her name, but his throat was closed up. “Never expected I’d see you here,” the spirit said, looking away. “Figured if anyone had done wrong, it was me.”

“You left me,” he managed hoarsely.

She nodded, biting her lip. “I didn’t wanna. An’ if it had been anything less than stopping the sodding Blight, I wouldn’t have.” She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. “You went back to the Crows. I asked you not to.”

“I had nowhere else to go.”

She scrubbed at her face, embarrassed. “Yeah, I know. But I’d really hoped... but that’s not why you’re here.” She scrunched up her nose in confusion, cocking her head at him. “Why are you here?”

“I had to ask,” he began, then coughed as the treacherous throat threatened to close up again. “You would not let Alistair take the blow.”

She nodded miserably. “Because I’d made him king, so he had to go be all kingy. And... I guess he told you that Morrigan made an offer, some sort of blood magic thing, but... she was pushing a hard sell, Zev. You know not to take a hard sell, it’s a bad deal. I... I just couldn’t. I couldn’t take a bad deal when everyone was counting on me not to... not to be some screw-up duster.”

“I know,” he nodded. “That is not my question."  He paused, swallowing. "If... If I had... told you that -- ”

“Zev, no, Zev, don’t,” the spirit held out both hands beseechingly. “You don’t have to -- ”

He took a breath and steeled himself to say it, the question that had haunted his days and nights for years. “If I had told you that I loved you, would it have made a difference?”

Those wide dark eyes stared into his amber ones, tears flowing freely. Slowly, she shook her head. “No. I’d have still done it. I had to. It... would have made it harder?” she said. “But... I knew. I... you... you know, too? That... that I...” He saw her set her shoulders, the same way she had before she’d charged the behemoth. “I loved you, too.”

”Lorelai,” he sobbed, falling to his knees to embrace her.

But she was already gone.

[Corker]

Her reach had finally exceeded her grasp.

Her lieutenants and their men were swarmed simultaneously in Darktown and Lowtown. Dwarven arbalists, backed by apostates, ambushed them in her Hightown apartment. They’d fled, and it had been a running battle of stealth attacks and firebombs on their side, and hails of bolts and entropic magic on theirs.

Their skill was legendary, but they were vastly outnumbered, and House Tethras had the home advantage. By midnight, Adriana Cousland and Zevran found themselves on the edge of Kirkwall’s cliffs, the heads of the giant twin statues far below them. Farther even than that were the rocks and the waves.

“You’re good, Cousland,” the Tethras captain drawled, smirking behind his monster crossbow. “But not good enough. You should have left the blue to the dwarves.” His finger twitched, and the erstwhile Hero of Ferelden lurched and gasped, clutching at the bolt in her chest. Zevran caught her, kept her on her feet as she tried to channel the pain into strength.

“Elf,” the dwarf called. “You finish her off, we’ll talk about a job for you with us.”

Blood oozed steadily from between Adriana’s fingers; dozens of bows were trained on them. His amber eyes found her green ones. “To the gates of the Black City itself,” he whispered.

She grinned, making the dragon tattoo covering her face snarl. “Then come fly with me, Crow.”

Together they turned and, arms around each other’s shoulders, jumped into the void.

--------------

“You come for Zevran Aranai? You are too late; he is dead.” The former pirate captain examined the nails of her hand. “We quarreled.”

The three Crows gawked incredulously. “Do you expect us to believe that some dockside doxy was the end of - ” The leader broke off suddenly as the Rivaini’s swordpoint materialized at his throat.

“Language, kitten,” she purred. “You’ll offend my delicate ears.” She lowered the blade slowly, letting it drag over his shirt and catch at the fabric. “But no, I don’t expect you to believe. So here.” She made a quick motion with her other hand, and one of the other men ducked to one side even as he snatched something out of the air. “My trophy.”

“An earring?” he said quizzically.

“If I might see it?” her hostage asked, all politeness. Smiling, she tipped the sword away. He took the trinket from his fellow and scrutinized it. “He had that for years,” the Crow muttered. “But it proves nothing.”  Isabela extended her hand, and he reluctantly returned the earring.

Isabela leaned back against the bar. “Ask around. We tore up half of Darktown. I expect there’s nothing left of the body. You know what they say... anything to survive down there.”

The Crows all grimaced in disgust. “We’ll check this story of yours,” the leader threatened.

“You do that,” Isabela said unconcernedly, saluting with her tankard as they filed out.

Fair skies and following winds, Zev, she thought, recalling his theatrical ‘death rattle’ and subsequent silent exit via those old sewers to the riverside beyond the city. And confusion to all our enemies!

--------------

“I can’t believe he’s late! He’s never late! I can’t be late for the meeting with the viscount!” The Arl of Amaranthine strode rapidly down the hall of the unfamiliar palace, his two guards hurrying to keep pace.

The Viscount of Kirkwall’s seneschal trailed slightly behind, confused at the delay. “Your lordship has an advisor? But... there was no one with you. Did they arrive - ”

The arl threw the woman a withering look down the length of his formidable Howe nose. “Master Arainai has served the arling of Amaranthine for decades. He trained Grey Wardens under my aunt and served as a captain of our personal guard for years. His wife delivered my children, his children hold posts in the treasury, the guard, and the Wardens, and their children play with my own grandchildren. If you suggest that he is no one again, I will see your ears cut off.”

“Your... your pardon, your lordship, I didn’t know...” He ignored her babbling apology as he arrived at Zevran’s door. “Zev? Zev!” He knocked loudly, to no response. “I don’t... Something must be wrong.”

“I have a key,” the seneschal said in a small voice, and he stepped swiftly aside to let her use it. The door swung open.

“No,” the arl groaned, shaking his head. The elderly figure in the bed, bundled under blankets against the chill he always complained about, was too sallow and waxen, too pale, and too, too still. “Maker’s mercy, no...”

The two guards bowed their heads. All return to the Maker, in their time. And although of course Master Arainai would be missed, he had had a long and full life of pain and sorrow, adventure and duty, and happiness and love. It was simply his time to go.

[Corker]

Bumped for:
ZevPrompt: Lost Opportunity
ZevPrompt: Fight (nsfw - cussing) (Randy Rogues series)
The Aldebrants! (lulz)
To the Tower (Odessa Amell, sfw)
Circle Tower: Out and about (world building)

and new additions to NSFW.

[Corker]

ZevPrompt: DA2 Cameo
So, I understand that of course there's a limit to what one can do with a cameo appearance.  No fanrage here and - now that folks are digging into debuggers and whatnot - I'm very glad that the dialogue for the various endings (romance/unromanced/US) is there.  But, for the fun of it, I prompted "DIY DA2 Cameo" - if you could write your own cameo, what would it be?

This here is for Lorelai's Zevran. 

“Hawke,” Varric protested from behind her as she strode down the plush carpet in the viscount’s keep, “do you really think that just barging in on the ambassador is the right way to -- ”

Bang! She kicked the door open and leveled a blade at the elf who was quickly rising from his writing desk. “Stop right there, Ambassador Arainai,” she warned. “Or should I say ‘assassin’?”

He tilted his head, and as she stalked closer, she saw that he was frowning slightly. “Don’t deny it,” she barked. “I’ve seen the letters.”

His eyes - cold and golden, like a snake’s - flickered from her to Varric and to Merrill, then back to her. “You have been played, ser,” he informed her, a hint of a smile playing around his lips.

“I said -- ”

“Oh, I do not deny it. Quite the contrary. I am the Guildmaster of the House of Crows, woman."  His tone was abrupt, almost dismissive. "Of course I am an assassin.” He folded his arms and lifted both eyebrows.

“The Crows - you mean the assassin’s guild?” Varric asked with surprise. “Why would the king of Antiva send you as an ambassador? Isn’t that a little... threatening?”

“The Crows run Antiva. I run the Crows. He who wishes to deal with Antiva, deals with me."  He shrugged. "This is an open secret, very well known to anyone... well, anyone of sufficient rank, apparently.” Hawke bristled at that. “As I said, you have been played, ser. The viscount is well aware of who and what I am. I suspect that either you or one of your companions is expected to die on my blades, or else on those of my compatriots if you were to kill me. Such an insult could not go unanswered, you realize.” He tapped his lips with his fingers, considering. “Your apostate, perhaps? I am very good with mages. She would die almost instantly.”

“I am not without defenses!” Merrill snapped.

“Of course not. That is why you would be first,” he said, giving her a little bow. “Or perhaps your Merchant’s Guild is scheming?” he nodded at Varric. “But you,” he looked to Hawke again, “seem to be the leader of this merry band and the most likely target. Well.” He sighed deeply, crossed his arms again and regarded them each in turn. “Now that I have confirmed your terrible suspicions and given you a free assessment of your situation, may I return to my correspondence? I assure you - I am not worth dying over.”

"I'll check your story with the viscount," Hawke warned.

"You do that," the elf waved irritably, sitting back down.  "And if elect not to take revenge on the person who set you up for this encounter, I do ask that you pass the name along," he said, very businesslike, as he hunted among a selection of quills for one with a good sharp tip.  "I do not appreciate the interruption."

[Corker]

A Very Special Episode
Prompt: Ten years later

"You're not my father!  You're just... you're just the bann's favorite fancy-lad, and you can't tell me what to do!"  Despite the bravado, Amethyne was already backing toward a window.

The words stung, but not too deeply; they'd had several years of adolescence already, and plenty of drama.  And this was too serious to let himself get baited.  Zevran tipped the glass vial to the side and watched the pink sand-like grains slide over each other.  "This is lyrium, dolcezza.  Did you join the Templar Order when we weren't looking?"  He looked up at her and she froze.  "Please do not tell me that it is not yours.  Be more inventive, if you must lie."

"I'm not taking it; Andraste's ass!"  She crossed her arms and tossed her head.  "I'm sharp, I don't want to be dulled."

"So why is it here?  As opposed to, say, in the Chantry?"

"Well..."  She let her arms drop free and started to pace; Zevran noted shrewdly that she was wandering closer to the window.  That would not do; he crossed the room to sit on its ledge.  She saw him moving for it and almost bolted, but after one abrupt step it was already too late.  He made a great show of having not noticed and looked up at her innocently.  "Look.  Some of us have ambitions to get out of the Alienage, all right?  I... I appreciate having a position here in the house, and the bann's been really kind I guess, but I don't want to be a maid forever."

"It is honest work," Zevran said carefully.

"Like you would know anything about that," she retorted. 

He smiled and leaned back against the window frame.  She wasn't bad at this, but she would have to hit a lot lower to get a reaction out of a former Crow assassin.  "Ah, dolcezza," he sighed, "I know what it is not, and that is almost as good, yes?  And this," he gave the vial a small shake, "is not it.  You are... what, then?  Transporting it? Selling it?"

"I... don't know," she said finally, twisting her fingers.  "I... found it and hadn't decided what to do with it."

"Found it?" he asked, eyebrow raised skeptically.

She nodded.  "There's a ****** in the wall by the well."

"In broad daylight, a bottle of pink sand just carelessly left in a wall?  You can do better, my dear."

"I'm not lying!" she protested hotly.  "It wasn't broad daylight, it was -- "  She broke off guiltily and Zevran sighed.

"It was after curfew and you were using the well as a step to get into Israfel's apartment," Zevran said, rubbing his brow.  The lad and his family lived in a second story room, and apparently his parents slept entirely too soundly.

"Please don't kill him," Amethyne said earnestly.

"He is beside the point.  At the moment, anyway.  The point is that someone is using the Alienage as a drop for lyrium trading, yes?  Or did you think someone just forgot this there?"  Amethyne's mouth made a little 'o.'  "Yes, 'oh.'"  He shook his head and stood up, looking her over.

It had been ten years since they'd taken her in.  The bann's small household had needed staff, and the orphan had needed a home.  The work she did was the light cleaning and mending that any child in the Alienage might have as their daily chores, and indeed as the years had gone by, she was like family.  Kallian had set aside a dowry for her, in fact.  They'd made sure she could take care of herself, even if they'd both hoped that she'd have a peaceful, happy life.  But here she was, considering dabbling in the lyrium trade to finance a Maker-knew-what sort of escape to a "more exciting" place than the Alienage. 

He tapped his lips with two fingers thoughtfully.  "And where would you go with your newfound riches, hm?  What would you do?"

She crossed her arms again, all defensive.  "You're going to say it's stupid."

He shook his head and held out one hand flat, palm down.  "I will not.  My word on it."

"I was going to buy my own lute and become a minstrel. Maybe a bard, even."

Zevran held himself very still as he carefully nodded, making sure that not the tiniest hint of That's not stupid, that's insane showed through his manner.  "Like La Leliana, perhaps?"

Amethyne rolled her eyes.  "I can have my own ideas.  But... well, yes!  She has such an exciting, glamorous life!  She travels all around the world at the queen's command, doing... important things!  I want to do important things, too, not just... get married and have some babies."

"Mm."  Zevran stood.  "Then we will have Leliana for dinner, and she will tell you what being a bard is like.  There is much more to it than meets the eye, and not all of it is pleasant or glamorous, particularly if you do not have the right... mindset."

"You're going to ask her to talk me out of it," Amethyne said, disgusted.

"No."  Zevran shook his head.  "But before you run off to such a life, you should know what it is really about, not what the tales and stories say.  Trust me, dolcezza; there is more to it than you have heard.  Now, as for this..."  He held up the vial of lyrium.  "We are going to take this to the bann, and you are going to tell her what you have told me."

Amethyne's eyes widened.  "No, that's not fair."

"It is eminently fair, dear girl.  I expect that there will be much shouting and possibly some crying."

"You're mean!"

"Utterly cruel," he agreed.  Kallian was going to be angry and disappointed both; Amethyne knew it, too.  Making her see it was the best punishment he could devise.  "Then I am going to investigate this new little problem, yes?  Of who is leaving lyrium drops in our home.  And the bann and I will take measures to see that it stops.  You," he looked at her levelly, utterly serious, "will not be involved with it.  Ever again."  He mentally crossed his fingers for luck and went on.  "Kallian has a dowry for you.  If you do not wish to wed, I doubt she will force a husband on you.  Take it and do what you will."

Amethyne's jaw dropped.  "Really?"

"Well," he started to qualify it.  Kallian would have to be asked, of course, and things considered, and... "I..."  He looked at her open, hopeful eyes and sighed in defeat.  "Yes, really."

He saw her knees bend and opened his arms to catch her when she sprang forward with a crushing hug.  "Thank you, Zev," she whispered.

You didn't expect her to stay here forever, did you? he asked himself, staring at the opposite wall as an unfamiliar ache settled underneath his breastbone.  He tried to banish it with a warm chuckle.  "Do not thank me yet," he said, pulling back and giving her a kiss on the forehead.  "We still have your audience with the bann."

[Corker]

New stuff:

Blood Price (ZevThread Prompt: Consolation): Erian Surana lets Caladrius go and is afraid Zevran is angry with him.

Still Life with Woodpecker (ZevThread Prompt: What would Zevran say about the DR?): Kallian Tabris regrets what she's done to her good friend Alistair.

The Demon Queen of Kirkwall: (Contains DA2 spoiler) In total seriousness, I think it would be epic if mage Hawke could go blood magic bonkers at the end of DA2, do the abomination tango, and try to take over the world AHAHAHAHA! 

[Corker]

Updated for:

Are You Being Served? (WIP, on hiatus at the moment) NSFW.  Five years after the Blight, Leliana asks her two old partners in bed crime to help her on a heist for the Crown.  Masquerading as the Orlesian libertine Lady Jolie and her two elven servants, they attend a debauched party to steal back the Crown of the Rebel Queen Moira Theirin.

Wild Blood (WIP): Sequel to DA:E.  On kmeme; soon to be NSFW. Hawke is a Chasind witch; her tribe ends up outside of Stonewall, chased by the Blight.  A Brecilian elf and her hired allan'isa show up one day on an errand from the Witch of the Wilds, and Hawke's life goes upside-down. 

Discworld Crossovers: Not smut but on the k!meme.  Aveline/Vimes, Flemeth/Weatherwax, Anders/Greebo/Ogg.

Salvos in the Limerick Wars: Also on the kmeme. By Fenris, By Varric (it's a sonnet because Varric has class), By Anonymous Dockworker, By Anonymous Qunari,  By An Irate Creditor

Modifié par Corker, 25 avril 2011 - 01:27 .

[Corker]

Updated for:

Vashti Mahariel shorts:
Temptation to Virtue (Temptation): (DAO) Zevran leaves the Warden's company.
A Rescue: (DA2) Our gang won't stand idly by while another elf is handed over to slavers, no serah!
Deleted Scene: (DA2) A random observation spun into random dialogue that really didn't fit well into 'A Rescue.' 

Lulz:
An Illustrated Guide to Thedas: The Fall of Tevinter, the rise of the Chantry, and magic in Thedas, explained via stick figure. 

[Corker]

Updated for:

ZevThread prompt Keeping Secrets (Secrets): Zevran helps Erian keep the secret of his blood magic by silencing the suspicious.

Crowning Moment of Awesome: DA2. Somebody wanted to see Merrill put a flower crown on Fenris.  I live to serve.

[Corker]

Updates:

Object Lesson: Randy Rogues, ZevThread prompt, NSFW. (Vengeance) After the Archdemon, Zevran demonstrates what it's like to be left anxiously waiting for a few hours.

Mutli AU Microfills: NSFW.  OP shuffled the DA2 companions' roles around and requested fic.  Short fills for pirate Fenris/Sister Isabela, warrior Bethany/abomination Sebastian/mage Carver, merchant Merrill/naive Aveline.

Modifié par Corker, 22 mai 2011 - 04:06 .

[Corker]

Untitled (Wardobe Malfunction): Ruined clothes as a pretext for forced feminization.  Sort of a fail on Odessa's part.

By the Book: Zevran finally convinces f!Surana that he really is interested in her, and she literally pounces on him.

Modifié par Corker, 31 mai 2011 - 02:09 .

[Corker]

Vashti Mahariel and Friends:
When in Tevinter: (on kmeme, mildly NSFW): Finn explains certain Circle Tower customs to Ariane.  6/3/11

AU: Dies the Fire: (Reversed Roles) An alternate universe where Duncan recruits Zevran, and Howe uses the Origin character as an assassin.  Unrecruited!ghoul!Vashti.  6/3/11

DA2:
Complete! Wild Blood: Sequel to DA:E.  On kmeme; NSFW. Hawke is a Chasind witch; her tribe ends up outside of Stonewall, chased by the Blight.  A Brecilian elf and her hired allan'isa show up one day on an errand from the Witch of the Wilds, and Hawke's life goes upside-down.  Warning for bondage, blood play.

[Corker]

Lorelai Brosca
AU: Born Wrong: (Reversed Roles)  An alternate universe where Duncan recruits Zevran, and Howe uses the Origin character as an assassin.  In the same style as Birthright.  6/9/11

Odessa Amell
AU: For Sale: (Reversed Roles) An alternate universe where Duncan recruits Zevran, and Howe uses the Origin character as an assassin. 6/9/11

Adriana Cousland
Apostate: (Faith) Why would the scion of the Couslands suddenly turn on the Chantry?

Neira Surana
She's Just Not Into You: After striking out on Warden Commander Surana, Anders decides she's just a cold woman who doesn't like men.  Then Zevran arrives at the Vigil. 

Modifié par Corker, 09 juin 2011 - 11:35 .

[Corker]

Randy Rogues
In Service to the Queen: NSFW.  Queen Anora is uncomfortable openly admitting her bedroom preferences, but is encouraged by Leliana's nonjudgmental experience. 6/13/11

DA2
Wild Blue Yonder: Short crack kmeme fill.  (Content SFW, site is not.) Merrill goes through the mirror and comes back with a zepplin for Isabela.  Because ZEPPLIN.

[Corker]

Randy Rogues
UPDATED - Are You Being Served? (WIP) NSFW.  Five years after the Blight, Leliana asks her two old partners in bed crime to help her on a heist for the Crown.  Masquerading as the Orlesian libertine Lady Jolie and her two elven servants, they attend a debauched party to steal back the Crown of the Rebel Queen Moira Theirin.

NSFW
No Talking: Merrill/Fenris porn without plot.  OP requested consenual rough sex with breath play, so that's what this is.  Title refers to an absense of the usual bedroom talk I like to give characters - if Fenris tried growling anything about blood mages or magisters, Merrill just had to go straight into lecture mode to correct him, and it sort of killed the mood.  So... no talking.
Lowtown Girls Gone Wild: Uncle Gamlen's pitch for his next big money-making idea.  Hawke is not amused.
Not a Python Reference - Entirely tame (but still on NSFW site).  A twenty-something shotgunner comes through Merrill's mirror to deliver a geek culture reference.

[Corker]

Randy Rogues
UPDATED - Are You Being Served? (WIP) NSFW.  Five years after the Blight, Leliana asks her two old partners in bed crime to help her on a heist for the Crown.  Masquerading as the Orlesian libertine Lady Jolie and her two elven servants, they attend a debauched party to steal back the Crown of the Rebel Queen Moira Theirin.

Neira Surana
NEW: First in Her class: (WIP) NSFW. Follows directly on By the Book.  Neira realizes that she needs hands-on instruction to excel. Zevran is pleased to teach her.

NSFW DA2
NEW - The **** Rings of Ancient Arlathan: Merrill acquires a magical talking penis possessed by a spirit of desire.  Isabela helps her shut it up.  Warning for self-inflicted and nonsexual CBT.
NEW - Supply Side Economics: Isabela and Athenril snark then get busy with bracers on, before being interrupted.

[Corker]

Kallian Tabris:
Look guys! Something not porn or crack!
NEW- AU: Spy vs. Spy: (The Real Deal): Rinna was never killed, and Zevran's assassination attempt is for real.

Okay, back to the cracky porn.
UPDATED Pt 15- Are You Being Served? (WIP) NSFW.  Five years after the Blight, Leliana asks her two old partners in bed crime to help her on a heist for the Crown.  Masquerading as the Orlesian libertine Lady Jolie and her two elven servants, they attend a debauched party to steal back the Crown of the Rebel Queen Moira Theirin.

Neira Surana
UPDATED Pt 2: First in Her class: (WIP) NSFW. Follows directly on By the Book.  Neira realizes that she needs hands-on instruction to excel. Zevran is pleased to teach her.

NSFW
Orichalcum, 25mg, to be taken orally: Follow the pharmacist's instructions, kids.
In the Bar: Where my characters go when I'm not writing them.
Bet You Can't Have Just One: Aveline and Donnic have a collection.
By Any Other Name: Why does Bethany want to get rid of a perfectly nice luxury toy?

[Corker]

Kallian Tabris
Complete - Are You Being Served? (WIP) NSFW.  Five years after the Blight, Leliana asks her two old partners in bed crime to help her on a heist for the Crown.  Masquerading as the Orlesian libertine Lady Jolie and her two elven servants, they attend a debauched party to steal back the Crown of the Rebel Queen Moira Theirin.

NSFW DA2
Did he delve in your Deep Roads?: Marian Hawke is convinced to try anal sex when she and Varric run out of contraceptives in the Deep Roads.
Sparks: Leandra Amell celebrates Kirkwall's Victory Day with her household. Nonexplicit fluff.
Even the Mighty: Prompt was to humanize Hadriana

Modifié par Corker, 07 juillet 2011 - 02:40 .

[Corker]

Neira Surana
COMPLETE - First in Her class: NSFW. Follows directly on By the Book.  Neira realizes that she needs hands-on instruction to excel. Zevran is pleased to teach her.

Technical Talk
Triple sigil all the way across the sky, what does it mean?: Maunderings on binding spirits and demons.  4/25/11
Proposed revisions to DA2 and addendum 3/25/11
Tranq Darts: Discussion on the Rite of Tranquility and abominations. 4/19/11
Roll and Keep Arcane and Primal Spells: I have a mind to port Thedas over to AEG's 7th Sea system. 4/29/11

[Corker]

Neira Surana
Neira's got a non-porn ZevThread fill. That means she's a real Warden now!
Chronology: (Fade Dreams) Zevran rescues Neira from the Sloth demon.

NSFW

Put Your Shoulder Next to Mine and Pump Away (WIP): Isabela domming a warrior f!Hawke. Guest appearance by Aveline/Donnic.

Karolis Triumphant and Tethras 301 Midterm: From the year 14:10 of the Ice Age, documents from an institution of higher learning, studying the great master of the King's Tongue, Varric Tethras. Fill is SFW lulz but site is not.

Penance: Sebastian confeses to Sister Petrice.