PSL - Starwind/Zevran
Sep. 24th, 2012 06:41 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
suaveleatherLove is something eternal; the aspect may change, but not the essence
In the first year or so following Rinna’s death Zevran had mourned the love which was lost, in his own peculiar way of course. He had thrown himself into his work, his will to live not completely gone but thrown to the side as guilt consumed him. The idea of love scared him but the idea of a raven haired beauty revisiting him in his nightmares, throwing accusations upon him, scared him that much more.
In the first month or so following his joining of a certain Grey Warden Zevran had mourned his freedom yet followed the flame-haired beauty’s instruction none-the-less. The more time he spent with her the more his former lover visited his dreams, accusations worsening each night until Zevran chose to fight until exhaustion. Only then did were his dreams less violent but still the Rinna’s ghost visited upon him.
Yet one night, without warning, his nightmares changed. No longer did his raven-haired ghost visit upon him. No longer did her cold touch caress his tan skin, promising to pull him into a hell he had flung her into. No, not at all. The nightmare was a new kind of torture which he had never dreamed of before. The nightmare was one of love, an odd one which he had never asked for and which made him yearn for more when he awoke the next morning. No, the raven hair was gone, cast aside, and yet he dreamed of caresses still. He dream of pale hair and paler skin, a small frame pressed upon as it whispered foreign words into his curved ear.
“Ashke.”
Zevran’s dark lips turned the foreign word over as he sat by the fireside, his fingers running along the smooth side of his daggers. The image of feathers visited upon his mind yet he could not identify his dream lover. A name, not forgotten but lost during the chaos of battle, escaped him and made him feel empty.
Ah how he needed to be filled. In more ways than one.
That night the elf visited the tent of one of the visiting mages, determined to find what was lost. He needed to feel whole and what better way than to be filled, so to speak. Yet, as pale as the mage was, as light as his hair was it was not right. The thin fingers trailed over his skin and out of the corner of his eye Zevran saw a ghost.
Without a word he had climbed out of the bedding the next morning, guilt gnawing in his stomach. He had woken up so hopeful, believing to wake up to a whispered language he could not remember. He had expected to see feather light hair splayed over the covers, a feminine face lying on his chest and pale fingers hold onto him, searching for warmth.
No, this was not to be found.
As the morning rays of light settled upon the camp Zevran dressed in his armor, readying for the oncoming final battle. There were more important matters to consider and his dream lover must come last. For a moment, just a moment, he thought he heard the word pass by his ear. He had believed he felt a hand upon his shoulder and a well wish echoed in his head. As the soldiers gathered nearby Zevran joined the side of his red-haired Warden, a cocky smirk upon his face and, for the first time in a long while, he felt as if was that much closer to being whole.
HERE HAVE ALL MY TEAL DEER
Date: 2012-09-24 09:08 pm (UTC)The first reaction was tears. He wasn't sure how long he cried. No, nothing was right of this place...except...for a soft pull of something... But the name slipped away when he tried to remember. He could only indulge that for so long and, dammit, he'd lived in forests his entire life. He'd been trained since birth to survive being separated from home and family.
The Tayledras didn't die easily.
He wandered, purposeless, for days, then weeks, then he stopped counting. He killed what he needed, moved when too many younglings came searching for hauntings. Rumors and stories of ghosts in the forest followed behind him like children, but he had long ago ceased paying attention to stories. Some said the ghost was a boy who had wandered into the forest and gotten lost, killed by his own body's needs or a wild animal. Others said it was a young girl, left on the eve of her wedding. Her suicide, they said, was of the grief of loneliness and kept her tied to the forest, even after death, searching for something to ease her grief.
They couldn't possibly know how close to right they were. He had lost something, was still searching for it, was empty without it. And that voice that Vanyel had once called "ancient rocks and deep water" remained silent. There was no one to speak to, so why should he speak? Only the birds of the place seemed to gather around him, sense that something was off about this man who hadn't been here before, tried to comfort him in their utterly innocent ways.
It was only by accident that he stumbled across that something feeling again, stronger this time. It pulled him to the edges of a campful of strange people that he almost entered but...something held him back and he instead watched from the fringes, observing only. Even the birds were obligingly silent for him.
Until he laid eyes on one of the darker ones. Then he couldn't help the half-strangled whisper that escaped from him before he could clamp a hand over his mouth.
"Ashke..."
And he almost ran to him--but again...something kept him hidden behind the safety of the trees.
From there he followed the group, always on the border between ghost and substance, always just beyond sight and into thought. He watched and whispered, not sure what to do with himself any longer. He watched as the dark-skinned elf visited another of the mages that night before what would be their final battle and he almost thought that he was right to stay beyond reach. Yet, in the morning when he left the tent, and the ghost watched, he wondered if that had been the right conclusion.
Yet, as they prepared for the fight, he couldn't resist any longer. A gentle mindtouch was all it took. Words and feelings of love, concern, hope...sensations of embraces, touches, caresses that he could only half-remember, might have been delusions for either of them.
It was all he could do for now, alongside praying to a goddess who had never lived in this place that they all would return whole.
He could only hope that would be enough.
I prefer the red deer tyvm
Date: 2012-09-27 11:41 am (UTC)When the light went overhead Zevran let out a victorious cry, smiling as if he were by the Grey Warden herself. Her companions were overjoyed to see her back, some confused that she had lived but Zevran had noticed. He saw the look pass between Alistair and Aliena, noticed Morrigan’s shifting into a small dog to run off. Sometimes it paid to be the wall which listens in.
In Denerim things were much different. Zevran had watched the revelries, his back stiff as he awaited his visit for the Grey Warden, the Princess consort or whatever Alistair had called her. At any moment he expected a visit from the Crows, a dagger at his back or a well-aimed arrow hitting one of the new royals. Finally the Grey Warden parted from Wynne and approached him.
“You aren’t thinking of leaving, are you?”
Zevran raised an eyebrow at the red-haired Warden. “And if I said I was thinking of moving on? Seeing the sights, meeting new people and killing a few?” He would not ask to stay, in fact a feeling that he was missing something was pulling him away, but the assassin needed to know where he stood.
“You’re welcome to stay.” That face, impassive as ever, said nothing helpful beyond an offer for him. He could have a home in Denerim.
His face lit up, the cocky grin chasing away his worry even as he felt the pull to leave again. “Then let the Crows bring it on. I can mock them while you crush their skulls. It’s the sort of thing that made us friends after all.”
Their conversation did not last much longer, something the elven assassin was thankful for as he decided his time in the royal party was done for the moment. It was much too crowded, something he had become oddly uncomfortable with since his peculiar dream, and soon he found himself wandering a nearby forest outside of the city.
“Hello? Little bird can you hear me?” Being there felt right somehow and Zevran’s body relaxed as he saw a small bird fly overheard. He was not sure why he had called out. What hand was moving him, manipulating him? It was almost worrying. He thought he felt a presence, his senses sending a chill up his spine and soon his daggers were out. He was ready for battle.
“Come my friend, show yourself. While I do enjoy the chase I must admit I’m no fan of being on the receiving end.” He laughed. “Well, not in this case that is.”
WHAT ABOUT PURPLE DEER 8D
Date: 2012-09-28 02:21 am (UTC)When the birds told him another man was coming, he knew--knew who it would be. His first reaction was to flee, and yet…he wanted so badly to stay. He compromised by pulling himself into the branches of the nearest tree and waiting, concealed. He shouldn’t have been afraid in the first place, but at least he could watch, observe, see if any of the chaos in his head would straighten itself out at the sight of tan skin, blonde hair, glittering blades.
The battle had been harrowing enough, and forcing himself to stay out of took more will than he had thought he possessed. Now this, and it was more than torture. It hurt being apart, it hurt the closer they got. The childish protests concerning the relative fairness of the situation had always been there, unspoken. Too proud to give the words a voice, too frightened to give them up entirely. It truly wasn’t fair. To anyone involved.
But everyone had survived, which was only half expected, all hoped for. And he had retreated. He was a ghost. The strange city walls were behind him, now. He felt claustrophobic just looking at them. How any person could stand to have any such obstacle in the way of their eyes was boggling. But then, he hadn’t spent much time in cities. He had never needed to.
Maybe—only maybe—he had a reason to spend more time around them, now.
At the first sound of a voice, he scrambled into higher branches, startled, barely a flutter of leaves in the wind giving him away. He’d always felt safer up high where he could see, where he could hide from prying eyes from below. He almost didn’t hear the words.
Little bird… Appropriate enough. One of his smaller friends had been brave enough to investigate, but…it felt like it meant more. Maybe it did. Or maybe he was imagining things as he wanted them to be. It wouldn’t have been the first time.
And even though he wanted so desperately to answer, every word he could think of to say died the moment it touched his lips and no sound, no voice, broke the silence for several moments.
He was almost trembling too much to climb down from the branches, but he managed it without falling, didn’t truly reveal himself until his feet were back on the earth instead of the air. A nervous enough thing for a Bird Lord. And as he stepped out from behind the tree he’d been hiding in, he couldn’t help but wonder if this would all turn out to be a dream, some cruel mistake, some game intended to set him on edge and steal his heart away.
…why would he think of something like that?
It was several silent moments of trembling flesh and pounding heart before he could bring himself to speak and after so long not speaking, his voice sounded strange in his own ears.
“No? Not one for games then?”
cutting back slightly on the deer :P
Date: 2012-09-29 02:05 pm (UTC)This was the man of his dreams quite literally. It had been some time since Zevran felt his body react in such a way, his pulse quickening as he gazed upon the pale man.
“The Crows… did not send you.”
He was not quite sure how the words escaped but there they were. This was a dream. It had to be. He stepped forward, wary that approaching the vision would send the man away. Was this the fade? Perhaps his old friends had sent in a blood mage who decided a demon was the best method of assassination.
Zevran’s fingers itched to grab his daggers, telling him to kill the creature. It was best to follow his instincts, yes?
“This is not real.” The grin fell away, replaced by anger. He pulled the daggers from his back and his leisurely posture faded into a crouch ready for battle. “You will not fool me, demon. I am not sure who you are the instrument of but I am not much a fan of dying. Come now, it is time for bloodshed.”
The elven assassin rushed forward to attack the man, daggers ready. A voice told him that what he was doing was wrong, a picture of Rinna's bleeding body in his mind but he would not falter. His dream man was of another world. That he knew.
On a deer diet?
Date: 2012-09-29 10:28 pm (UTC)The shields, though, stayed where they were, translucent and blue-green and solid. This was a mistake. The wrong place, the wrong time, the wrong meeting… He should have just vanished into the trees as soon as he had heard that voice. He should have waited for...what exactly? There was no guarantee of a better meeting, no assurance of any other places.
He stared, empty-handed, for a few moments before he found his voice again.
“I am no demon, and there are no crows in this place.” Something told him that the man in front of him didn’t precisely mean birds, but he carried on after only the slightest of pauses. “Not demon, yet…it seems, ash—” no, he wouldn’t call him that—“leeka’el, not quite a man, either. Perhaps it may be best to call me ‘ghost,’ no?
“If you wish nothing of me but violence, then I will go—“ not far “—but I’ve something to give you, first.” He hesitated for only a moment before moving his hands to the back of his neck and unknotting a leather cord, pulling what hung on it out from underneath his clothing.
After a few seconds looking at it, he dropped his shields and extended his arm, dangling the earring from the cord laced around his slender fingers in front of the man.
“This is yours, no?”
Why would he have thought that…?
not in the mood for venison
Date: 2012-09-30 01:23 pm (UTC)His confusion was enough to cause hesitation, a sign of weakness which Zevran hated himself for yet it was needed. All of his senses were telling him to run except one who said to listen to what the pale foreigner had to say. So very foreign. Zevran had encountered none like him.
Had he? The foreign word spoken sent a chill up his spine and the cut off word sounded so very like the one he had heard in his mind for some time now.
His eyebrow shot up in a delicate arch when the man mentioned giving him something. “Oh? A gift from the Crows perhaps?” He stepped forward with a cocky grin, sheathing his daggers though his muscle were stretched and ready to grab them once they were needed. Of course he had not been prepared for the gift which the pale man held out.
“Ah. Yes… that is most definitely mine.” His eyes were locked on the earring, something which he had woken to find missing so long ago. Carefully his own tan hand slipped into his skirt pocket, pulling out one of the feathers he had found replacing the earring. “I… don’t understand. It was a dream. You are really here, yes?”
The name came to his lips and he felt so very vulnerable when he cast the man a worried look. “Starwind?”
Hmmmmmm :|a
Date: 2012-09-30 10:53 pm (UTC)“It was with me when I came to this place. Days, weeks ago, perhaps. I do not remember. Strange, though.” And frightening, but there was no need to give that away just yet.
But then he heard his own name on those lips and he couldn’t help it as memory after memory—or maybe it was dream after dream—of love and of loving came forward so quickly that he had to look away, eyes closed, before he had enough control of himself to speak again.
“Dreams say many things. I hold much faith in them.” But then, so did all of the ForeSeers. And the thought that was he was Seeing now could have been ForeSight was…strange. Heartening nad lovely, but…odd. Did he remember this man…?
When he could finally look back, it was with a soft smile on his face, somehow both hopeful and just a touch sad for the things that he still couldn’t remember.
“I am Starwind. And if you wish it of me, I will leave, Zevran-ashke.” Damn. He hadn’t meant to call him that. But it was too late now to take it back. Perhaps he hadn’t ruined anything after all.
ilu please forgive late reply
Date: 2012-10-06 11:28 am (UTC)The man before him was the very image of his dream lover. His carriage, his looks and even his tone was the same. This was Starwind, the pale mage who he had found in some odd version of Hell. Memory after memory came to mind yet it still felt as if some were missing.
Zevran realized his silence and the cocky grin returned. There were many things he was unsure of and, until he figured them out, he would try to keep the pretty man by his side. If nothing else he would be allowed a pleasant view.
"So now, my beautiful new companion, where do we go from here? If what you say is true then you are mostly unfamiliar with the area. What were your plans if I had not found you?"
Don't worry about it, love. We're all busy <33
Date: 2012-10-06 07:02 pm (UTC)Even so, he had to admit that he didn't know what he would have done if he hadn't found what he was looking for. If he'd been left on his own to wander, doubtless he would have continued to wander, on the edge of memory, dream, and vision, a perpetual ghost that haunted unfamiliar forests.
He shook his head at the question of plans, brushing dislodged silver hair out of his eyes and back into place with fingers that only shook slightly. He was no little proud of that. All of the rest of him was trembling as it was, and he only hoped that Zevran couldn't see that. Something told him he did.
"I do not know what I might have done. I would have found something, some place, perhaps, and learned of this place."
no subject
Date: 2012-10-09 01:15 pm (UTC)Ah, time. He had almost forgotten the problem with time. He had bought some by standing by the Warden's side but his time traveling with her was up. Yes he had said he would stick around but that only allowed so much longer.
"Of course, but... That does not matter now, no?" His eyes had finally noticed the trembling and a protective urge had him loping toward the man. Without thought he reached a hand out to tuck that hair away. He stepped forward with a grin, turning the odd affectionate gesture into one he could handle a little better.
"You are truly a magnificent creature. It is a shame for you to have hid away like this, away from praising eyes. If you have no plans then you would not mind accompanying me back into Denerim, no?"
no subject
Date: 2012-10-10 03:14 am (UTC)Still, he was glad to see the feather being treated with the same care he’d granted to the earring, went still at the touch of other fingers in his hair for fear of flying apart. It was surprisingly (or perhaps not) difficult to breathe as he stared into those brown eyes that were suddenly closer to him than he had expected. It was several moments before he could bring himself to look away and start breathing again.
He nodded, though, in the general direction of another tree. He’d made his decision, but he’d have to keep reminding himself that is was better walls than loneliness. Better caged than the “free” life he had been living alone.
“If that is where you are going, then I am as well.”
no subject
Date: 2012-10-10 10:21 am (UTC)Ah, but did it matter? He had given the Grey Warden his word, promising to stay, and after all the woman had done he was not happy with the idea of lying to her. Perhaps there was another solution. He would have to think on it.
"Nevermind, it is no matter my pretty friend. Shall we be off? Hmmm, would you like a tour of the palace first? Or shall I show you the more... interesting spots of Denerim?"
no subject
Date: 2012-10-11 12:35 am (UTC)Seeing as he didn't know the city, though (or any, really), he had to go with Zevran knew about them. Something told him it was much more than the typical citizen, and doubtless with less savory origins. If only he could remember...if he could know why he thought all these things...
Eventually, he had to give up remembering anything beyond fuzzy dream-memories and shrug. "I care not. I will see what you choose to show me."