Джеймс за волосы развернул Брюса к себе и снова толкнул его вперед, заставляя того упасть лицом к то самое кресло, на котором Уэйн нашёл нижнее белье проститутки.
Сам же Гордон буквально впечатал собой парня в несчастный предмет интерьера.
Было мягко и горячо.


Брюс, казалось, протрезвел в ту же секунду, как ощутил себя вдавленным телом Джима в кресло. В какой-то книге из родительской библиотеки Уэйн прочел, что лучшее средство угомонить заигравшегося щенка — это прижать его за шкирку к полу. Похоже, именно этот прием Гордон и решил применить к Брюсу. Что ж, подействовало.

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Just one night [DAInquisition]

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The mere thought that you're wandering among the ice-covered rocks right now makes me sick. Maybe I shell bring some healing potions with me too? Zevran

Just one night
участники: Vigard as Dorian Pavus, Revus as Zevran Arainai
время и место: 9:41 DA, Skyhold, Dorian's room

Master of the Crowns always keeps his promises.

Отредактировано Vigard the Sparrow (2017-08-03 12:48:36)



After almost a year apart, after a month of rush and worry, it was surprisingly hard to climb these last steps and get to the top of the rock where the castle of the Inquisition stood. It felt... shallow - just to appear out of the blue in front of Dorian and smile like they had said goodbye just yesterday. Even a beautiful bouquet of black roses, fresh from Tevinter (thanks to a spell) would not be enough. He had to do something more, to find the right moment and the right words.
Thus decided, Zevran changed his plans and spend his first day in Skyhold hiding behind the stables, watching and waiting. It was not a particularly pleasant day, actually, but he learned a lot. Especially, about Dorian and people around him.
"Idiots", muttered the elf not once or twice that day. It was obvious enough that many superstitious fools were afraid of Dorian, and those, who were not afraid, were angry at him. Maybe, he has already deserved it. Maybe, it was just because he was from Tevinter. Most likely, it was both.
"Idiots", Zevran chuckled sadly, glanced at Dorian one last time through the window of a tavern and retreated to the castle. It was early evening already, and he had much to do. He finally decided what he would do for a greeting.
The light shone happily in the fireplace, filling the room with warm red light. There were candles on the table, among the plates with different antivan and tevinter deserts, but they were not lit yet. A bottle of wine and a bouquet in a vase were a better embellishment. And still better yet was a pile of books, new and almost gleaming. Zevran had no idea what these books were about, but they all were in tevin, and skulls and runes on the pages suggested that Dorian would love them.
Zevran took one book, the only one written in the universal language, moved an armchair to the far most corner of the room and cradled here in the darkness, his bare foots on the handle, the open book in his lap. It was an antivan book with a funny title, and Zevran liked to study it from time to time.
When the footsteps echoed in the corridor, and the door finally opened, Zevran waited for a couple of moments and then started to read out loud:
"The significance of magic discipline commonly known in Tevinter as "Thaumaturgy" is wildly underestimated. Although this magic field is  usually estimated secondary to alchemy, it worth mentioning that thaumaturgy laid the foundation of many unique disciplines, for example, the magic cuisine. Unlike the art of potion making, the art of cooking meals with magical ingredients is much more subtle, and the power of the meals is significantly smaller. Consequently, they are rarely used for poisoning and almost useless in political intrigues. Still, they may be used for causing various short-time effects like effects hallucinations, horror, pain, lust, arousal, anger, suffocating and may be successfully used at the parties".
It was a long and silly passage, and Zevran was reading it in a calm, lazy voice, like it was the most usual thing in the world, like if Dorian had just gone for a minute and now had finally returned. The table full of dishes and a warm fire in the fireplace were waiting for Dorian, like it was not a big deal at all, like it was an everyday routine. Like it was home.

[NIC]Zevran Arainai[/NIC]



[NIC]Dorian Pavus[/NIC]
Another evening ... Dorian looked at the bottom of the glass, put his elbows on a wooden table, rubbed his nose.
- I do not know, but the thought that such person like him is next to the Lady Inquisitor makes me to be nervous.
Altus looked at an empty bottle near, listened to the sensations inside: not became warmer, and from this swill he began to feel sick. - Not only Tevinter Magister, but hi is not a fool to drink. I often see him here.
No, not even for the sake of Andraste he will not do any more sips, the pair of coins tinkled plaintively, the magician got up, looked over his shoulder. Whispers behind subsided briefly, Altus bundle up into his cloak - he was constantly freezing on this damn mountain, and the local public as well as wine sickened. Dorian went out from the tavern, entering the dark, moonless night, noisily sucked the fresh, cool air, breathed out, closing his eyes for a moment and slowly walked to his room. The days of wandering, researching and rare conversations with those who dared to approach him, in spite of endless rumors, passed easily, but in the evening ... In the evening he became sad, lonely and cold. The glowing windows of Skyhold told their own stories: Lelliana wrote another letter, Josephine took an indecently late guest, there was laugh and snatches somewhere behind the walls (an another story of Varric?). It seemed he made Cullen to play cards again. Dorian smiled warmly - the idea that this is just the beginning warmed him momentarily.
But his part of palace was quite, and he was thankful for it - too many rumors are bad for a good dream. Step by step, he came upstairs and entered his room.
Something was wrong, everything was wrong exactly. It was warm and light in his room, the fragrance of flowers flowed slowly across the room, mingling with the smell of spices and wine. Dorian paused for a moment, he was afraid to breathe once again, turn his head or blink. The voice ... familiar, soft, warm, loved brought out of a stupor and made the heart to beat faster. Altus turned his head, smiled, noting that Zevran was not looking at him. The first impulse was to come up, squeeze in the arms, steal a kiss from hot and passionate lips. But Pavus was too proud. He slowly walked to the table, poured some wine.
- So you decided to learn cooking, not poisons? I'm surprised, Amatus. - lips nipped the glass, his eyes sparkled with magic. - What did bring you to this edge of cold, Crow? Not a scientific research, I suppose? - the magician grinned, put the glass down, took a step. It was not unbearable - they haven't seen each other for a year, among them was the snow, the danger, and the death. - Did you bring me presents? How cute. - his voice treacherously trembled, he stopped, feeling that if he come closer, then he'll be burnt - next to the Crow, he could not stay calm.

Отредактировано Vigard the Sparrow (2017-08-01 20:13:25)



"Crow". Zevran paused. The word that had been a curse for almost ten yeas now sounded like a music again. His smile broadened.
"My promise brought me here", he answered simply, putting the book aside. He turned his head and smiled.
"And some minor guild business". He turned further to demonstrate his new armor with red wings if the Antivan Crows.
"And the fact that one handsome mage was forced to the mountains to freeze in his bed without a single hot enough elf to wrap around him at night. Or was I misinformed? The bold one downstairs..."
Zevran did not finish the thought and chuckled. He stood up, slowly and gracefully, took a single step closer to the mage, and his ever-present smile grew wider.
"Your present are still on the way. The caravan will come tomorrow. You do not suppose that I came to you with just what I could bear in my hands, do you?"
He took one more step, and suddenly they were face to face (Dorian's height spoiled the effect a little but nevermind). Zevran looked in the gray eyes he had not seen for almost a year. Nothing has changed there, yet everything was different. Their circumstances had changed drastically, and there was no denying of it. Fortunately, both of them were too stubborn to give in to circumstances and change even in the slightest only because the whole world around was crumbling apart. Dorian was still, basically, a pompous smartass, of course. Zevran liked it that way.
"And I've also promised that while we are both here, I won't let the ferelden torcher your stomach with that untasty stuff they call food. As I am a man of many talents, I'll handle our ration myself".
He gestured toward the table with inviting look.
"It's up to you to decide whether I was using some of your tevinter receipts or not and which emotions will be caused by the herbs and which - by my hungry glance".
He gave Dorian a single, warm but brief kiss, then practically dragged him to the table and sat across. His elven eyes reflected the red glow of the fire, and it looked like the little antivan devils were dancing inside.

[NIC]Zevran Arainai[/NIC]



[NIC]Dorian Pavus[/NIC]

It was unbearable, glaringly and so defiant in their nature - to play, to tease each other, smile and hide behind a smile the storm of emotions. Dorian said with a soft smile and a slight bow:
- My compliments, Master of the Crowns. The smile became wider, flashes of magic glowed softly in the eyes which seemed extinguished a moment ago. The magician knew that looked different, that this year has changed him inside even more than outside. But now the cold was behind the walls, and his soul lighted up and revived again.
- Bald? You're laughing at me - how could I deny myself the pleasure to play with blond hair. It's not him. - a smile passed over his lips and flashed in the eyes’ depth. They were together and still close, but in the doomed head hundreds of happy and jealous, mocking and just stupid thoughts swarmed. Pavus, for the first time in his life, did not want to waste sweet words - he wanted to kiss, touch and caress, to bask in the arms and steal gusty moans from his lips. Zevran, however, decided to make him crazy by his secular manners and lucrative offers to eat. Good food, of course, is no substitute exchange for good sex, but it is necessary to start somewhere. Especially, if memory serves Altus good, if you praise culinary talent of Crow your dessert will be much sweeter.
- Okay, okay, I'll try your recipe, and see whether your hunger has helped make the food tastier. - he laughed shortly, burnt by a short kiss.
He slowly sank into a chair, with the usual grace reached for the grapes, squeezed soft fruit in fingers and raised it to his lips. Look at me - I'm cold on this damn mountain. The mage posted a berry into his mouth and licked his fingers by the most seductive way. They did not have to play the seduction or temptation – it was enough a word, a smile or to touch the shoulder - they understand each other without words. But at this moment, this little game was entirely appropriate. A silver cup was filled with wine, Dorian took a sip and smiled. He missed that taste, flavor, home. The smile reappeared on her lips - he always hid his true emotions and feelings, it served as a shield. He laughed at himself, and at everybody, was sharp and waited quips in return - so people expressed their suspicion, hatred and fear openly. Whispers behind pretty tired him. He also wanted to joke now. But he could not.
- Whoever that “handsome magician” - I am grateful to him. I'm tired of the local community - tasteless food and plane jokes plunged me into boredom. They don’t dance here! - Pavus leaned back in his chair, threw off his cloak by a slight movement, and touched short black hair. Thin fingers picked a nut in honey and immediately he went it into his mouth, a mage smiled, took another one and handed it to Zevran.



There was no victory if there was no challenge. There was no pleasure if there was no victory. Well, at least, it was like that in Antiva. Now and then, though, it was an altogether different sort of challenge, extremely difficult, by the way. But Zevran loved to play, even if there was no chance to win. With Dorian and his damned grapes, there was a pretty little chance indeed. Zevran eyed all the dished on the table. Some of them indeed were cooked with tevinter special spices, and it was a blunt cheating, but then again, Zevran was a rouge, and the game was not meant to last long anyway.
He smiled, looking hungrily at Dorian's fingers. Almost a year was too long for an antivan. He wanted to grab these hands, yank them and drug the mage to the bed... but no. It was his personas sort of pervert pleasure, sitting there and smiling like his skin was not melting under the leather armor.
"I think, I made the fire too big", Zevran decided out loud. He stood and slowly took off his leather jacket while heading to the fireplace. There was nothing under the jacket, so Dorian could glimpse Zevran's new tatoo - a dragon's head and a part of a wing.
Zevran quickly adjusted the firewood and returned to the table. He stopped behind Dorian's chair, placed his hands on Dorin's shoulders. It seamed that around the mage the air was even hotter then near the fireplace.
"Now, what do you think about my cooking? And would you, please, fill me a glass of wine?"
His fingers were slowly massaging Dorian's neck under the soft cloth. It felt absolutely wrong just to stand there, doing nothing more than touching Dorin slightly, but, at the same time, suddenly it was very right.
"Behind his back again".

[NIC]Zevran Arainai[/NIC]



[NIC]Dorian Pavus[/NIC]

"It's a pity to disappoint you, but for me, there is never too much ... fire." - Dorian smiled, watching closely how Zevran undressed. - "Oh, a new tattoo. Not as tasteless as the others, I must say. I like dragons ... Recently, the Inquisitor and I have killed one." - the mage grinned, sending another grape into his mouth. Zevran went behind his back, gently touched his shoulders. It was against the rules. Pavus licked his dry lips and took a long sip of wine. Too long - the thoughts in his head confused and a quiet moaning of pleasure by a light massage broke off his lips.
"I think your hints have become too obvious, Arainai." - He covered the elf's hands with his own. - "Are you losing your skills?" - He squeezed his fingers lightly. "Come back to the table, amatus. I want to see your face ... and we'll come back to our hands later." - the altus chuckled, filled them glasses of wine and reached for another delicacy. He was more hungry than the elf could have guessed.
- "However ... In massaging you are still just as good ... Is there much practicing for this year?" - The spark of jealousy in his eyes was too bright, and so Dorian hastened to look away. No. He had no right to be jealous of Zevran. He obviously was not completely jealous of him, although the elf knew perfectly well that morality was the last thing that could bind Pavus' hands. - "I also practiced a lot, by the way. In magic, survival on a piece of ice, absorbing a terrible booze." - He laughed shortly. And loneliness. - said his eyes, but the mage did not say anything, hiding the true feelings behind a cheerful smile, as always. "So then ... What brought the Crows to Skyhold?"

Отредактировано Vigard the Sparrow (2017-08-02 09:56:34)



Zevran get back to his chair in laughed quietly, “You are going to ask this question until I admit the truth, dot’ you. Very well”. He leaned closer, pushing a bottle out of the way to look straight into Dorian’s eyes. “I was warring for you so badly I could barely sleep.” He lowered his voice; his eyes were glistening now, catching the light from the fireplace. “On the way here I threatened to kill the captain if he would not get us to the place on time.”
He stopped talking and smiled a meaningful predatory smile; his eyes would not leave Dorian’s face for an instance, catching the slightest movement.
“Oh, and I had some practice indeed. I practiced to strangle people, to throw them to the ground, to bend them, to squeeze them until the cry they lungs out… do I need to continue?”
Maybe it was a little too harsh for a little supper flirting, but then again, Dorian usually had no objection for Zevran’s professional humor. It was just his way to tell Dorian, that he had not been strolling around Antiva examining every brothel he had been able to recall.
He made a pause again to pick up a berry form the plate without ever glancing at it. Still burning Dorian with his gaze Zevran took a bite. The juice soiled his lower lip, but he seemed not to notice.

Отредактировано Zevran Arainai (2017-08-05 15:12:46)


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