It happens to everyone - sometimes, you have nights where you just can't fall asleep, no matter what you do. It could be for a number of reasons, or no reason at all. And this is what's happened now: you've been laying in bed for what feels like hours, just tossing and turning, and nothing seems to help. So what's left to do? Get out of bed and go wake someone else up, of course. If you're not getting any sleep, then why should they?
i n s t r u c t i o n s • Post with your character (note the name and fandom in the subject).
• Other people reply to you by generating a number from 1 to 10.
• Have fun!
o p t i o n s 01 • FEAR. Maybe you're hearing strange, indeterminable noises; maybe there's a severe storm happening outside; maybe you watched a scary movie before bed? Whatever the reason, you're terrified and it's keeping you awake. You just want to wake someone else up so they can protect you from the monster in your closet.
02 • HUNGER. Your stomach is growling and it just won't stop. Or perhaps your throat is so dry you could cough up a tumbleweed? Well, you've gone to the kitchen to remedy this and hey, that was a pan that just dropped on the floor. It was loud enough to wake the dead! Oops.
03 • PAIN. Your body is completely worn out, be it from exercise, battle, sickness, or what have you. Either way you're in enough pain to keep you from sleeping, so maybe someone else has a home remedy or something, or can at least help you take your mind off of it.
04 • SOLITUDE. For some reason, your bed just feels so empty at the moment. You're feeling terribly lonely and really just want someone to keep you company for a while. Maybe it'd be easier to fall asleep if you're with them...
05 • DISCOMFORT. Your room is an oven. Either that or a freezer. Or maybe this bed is just really uncomfortable? Who knows why you can't get to sleep, it feels like it could be anything. Why even bother trying? Maybe someone else can preoccupy you until you feel tired enough to ignore your discomfort.
06 • PENSIVE. Something's on your mind, and no matter how hard you try to focus elsewhere, it's just not going to work. Your body may be tired, but your mind is incredibly busy and it's virtually impossible to get to sleep. Surely, talking it out with someone else will help?
07 • SADNESS. Something terrible has happened that day, perhaps; or you could just be severely depressed. Either way you're trying your hardest not to cry yourself to sleep, and it's not working at all. Better find a way to get it out of your system somehow; you need a shoulder to cry on.
08 • ANGER. You are just... fuming. Who knows why - that annoying dog is barking again, or maybe the people next door are getting busy and keeping you awake. Whatever the reason for your ire is, you'd better put an end to it so you can get some damn rest already! Go wake up a friend so you can complain to them.
09 • RESTLESS. You're far too energetic to sleep right now. Maybe you're just trying to do so out of necessity - you have to be up early tomorrow! But you just don't think you'll be able to fall asleep for a while now, so why waste the time trying to sleep when you could be doing something else? Namely bothering someone else - you're totally jealous because they're getting more sleep than you.
10 • WILDCARD. Choose one of the options above, or make up your own scenario.
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bakerstreet2020-10-01 04:32 pm
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"I suppose that's true enough." He wonders quite often if anyone should be following him anyway, but Cassandra and the others were adamant - and wouldn't really take no for an answer, either. "There's a lot still to learn, and not really the time to learn it, but I'm... doing what I can." He takes another sip, licking a drop of the pink cordial from his lips absently. As stressful as the title of Inquisitor is, and as much as he feels he's unsuited, the elf tries not to succumb to despair and hopelessness. As more than one person has pointed out, much of Thedas looks to him now. What use was a leader paralyzed by fear?
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He shrugs, sipping his cordial and attempting to not let his eyes linger on the Inquisitor's mouth. He (mostly) manages.
"The people are relieved with the closing of each rift. With news that there is someone doing something. Hope is a heavy burden but- you offer it. By doing what you can. Sometimes that is all that one is able to manage."
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Faintly he smiles. "Thank you," he murmurs, tone soft and a little unsteady. He takes to absently running his finger along the rim of the cup once more, watching that instead of the man across from him. Finally though, his gaze lifts again. "It means a great deal that you would say that. There is always more to do, but... yes, I do what I can."
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Why he's signing up for a second round, well.
He lives here.
He'd rather not face a world drowned in demons and darkspawn. It'd be a little like everything they did a decade ago counted for nothing. "And as far as I have seen? You've done quite a bit. I'd follow you happily if you need a cunning dagger at your back."
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"Right. Difficult to keep that in mind sometimes."
"Ah?" His eyes widen in surprise. Attending a ball at the Winter Palace was quite different than offering to follow Lasulahn around. "I suppose if anyone knows what they're getting themselves into with that sort of offer, it would be you, wouldn't it?" He fidgets nervously with his cup, leaning forward in his earnestness. "Is that really alright? Do you really not mind going back to that sort of lifestyle?"
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Extra eyes that Leliana knows and trusts. Extra knives to drive away demons in the dark. Extra consideration- not that he assumes the Inquisitor's associates don't reach out to him but- there's a weight on his shoulders none have seemed able to lift. Arrogant, perhaps, to think he might manage but-
Is not everyone due a little arrogance, now and then?
Zevran combs his hair out of his eyes with a warm smile, something without the usual edge. "Besides. You are facing dragons, demons, and all manner of unpleasantness. I do not wish them to be wandering about the world any more than the next elf. If I can help? I will lend you my blades."
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Lasulahn wonders if he'll ever reach the day where fighting the Red Templars is not a horrifying experience - he doubts it.
"Well- yes, but, you've done much for Thedas already, no one could blame you for sitting this one out." There's something that tugs at his emotions in the offer, enough that his voice wavers just a little as he continues. "But, if you're truly of the mind to join me, you are more than welcome. I would be very glad for your company. I know you know- and I don't mean to be condescending- but it is always dangerous, and if you don't want to risk your life, that's alright." Lasulahn cannot bear to think of losing any of his companions, least of all if they're not of firm conviction in their decision. He manages a weak laugh. "At least every day is different. Bears, apostate mages, Red Templars, demons and dragons as you said..." Lasulahn gives a hapless shrug. "The occasional startled nug."
Maybe it's that Zevran is an elf, in a way that neither Sera nor Solas is an elf. He is closer now to both than at the beginning, and Solas in particular, but Sera disavows her "elfiness" while Solas seems to loft himself above his own, as though he is of a different breed than both city elf and Dalish. Zevran simply... is. And perhaps it's a selfish sentiment, when so many people are suffering, but it's nice that Zevran asked about him. It's something of a comfort that he acknowledged the Inquisitor's troubles without reminding him of everyone else's troubles in the same breath. (And, not the least of reasons: Zevran's flirting makes him feel special without feeling pressured. It is welcome, and not overbearing. Maybe flirting is common for the rogue, Lasulahn reasons, but it's nice nonetheless.)
Finding the remainder of his cordial suddenly quite interesting, Lasulahn mumbles, "Thank you, even just for offering."
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Doing whatever it is a golem that has returned to their fleshy form does-
"I am the only one that has not yet taken some manner of responsibility for what is happening. Part of being free to choose what I wish to do means I could very well walk away, but..." For a moment his eyes darken in consideration, dipping to his own half empty glass. He could walk away. Part of him says that he should. Simply focus on Antiva, on his home, and leave this larger heroic mess to the larger heroes. And were it a dwarf or human or Quanari? He may very well. There is support enough for those sorts.
But it is Lasulahn, a Dalish Mage, and finding support when one is of two such disparate peoples is...difficult. He swirls his glass idly, rolling words around in his mouth, on his tongue before looking over with some slim measure of seriousness. "...I suppose the friends I made along the way, during the Blight, impressed upon me some manner of noble intent despite my better judgment. It would be remiss to walk away when I can help."
A beat.
"But if you agree to keep me, tell Leliana you promised me a kiss or she'll never let me hear the end of it. Volunteering for such work? Growing as an individual? I will never live it down."
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"One would think saving the world once is enough," he says, and it's meant to be a light sort of tone, though it sounds more soft and compassionate than anything. Thedas has been in trouble more often than not in recent years, it feels. Such problems were usually outside the view of the Dalish, who had their own difficulties, but now it has grown to such a scale that it cannot be ignored by any people. Perhaps it was easier for Zevran to directly involve himself than watch the state of things as they devolve.
Lasulahn is immeasurably grateful, either way.
He laughs again. "I never would have imagined Leliana so invested in your personal life. Is that all? I can promise you several, though that still hardly seems fair to you-"
He stops. It seems to dawn on him, in slow motion, what he's actually said. The color of his cheeks now certainly can't be attributed to drink. "Oh! I mean- that's-" He waves a hand in front of his face, flushing to the tips of his ears.
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Cheek propped in hand he swirls his drink in it's glass, eyes crinkling with delight. Fair as Lasulahn is, his skin blushes so beautifully. Like roses pinking through winter snow- and it is some manner of warning most of his mind ignores when he decides to go poetic in the slightest.
But, like many other red flags? He's walking past without much thought. This is the right thing to do and-
It's not so terrible a thing, following a lovely man. "Shall we write a contract to make this formal, or will a spoken agreement suffice?"
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"Spoken is- is fine," he mumbles through his fingers. When he does move his hand from his face, it's to take a hearty gulp of cordial. Finally, a little braver than he feels and face still quite pink: "I think I feel safer with 'several'. That would need to be some kiss, to make up for all the traveling and fighting I do- have you ever been to the Fallow Mire?" As nice as kisses sound, Lasulahn doesn't have the experience to believe himself worthy of any sort of kiss that could be worth someone putting their life in danger, whether or not it was for the good of the world.
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There's quite a bit about Lasulahn that is lovely, but knowing where the line is for fun teasing and far too much- that is a delicate thing. He would not wish to overstep so early in their acquaintance. "In Antiva it is customary to take half payment before the job is done, and half after."
He lets the implication linger, eyes tracing Lasulahn's cheek, jaw and lips before sitting back, crackling a laugh. "Ah, but we are not in Antiva, are we? And how are you to know that my work would be satisfactory without an opportunity to test the wares yourself, mm?"
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For a moment, he regards Zevran's pretty eyes over the rim of his cup, the way they seem to gleam golden with his amusement, and then finishes the rest of his drink. Normally he is not half so bold. Maybe it's the alcohol. Either way, he leans enough to press a quick, chaste kiss to the other elf's cheek, and sits back in his chair. The act does nothing to help his blushing, and he notices just how warm the room suddenly feels.
"Well, I wouldn't wish to disregard your customs. Your work comes highly regarded, in any case."
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It's so light a thing, the barest brush, and Zevran's cackle twists into a low huff instead. Warmer, more intimate, inviting.
Honest.
"Ah, that is payment enough for several daring acts of heroism, I should think." He reaches up, brushing his own cheek, eyes closed in feigned bliss.
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"You might want to consider raising your prices," he answers, then- "I mean." His shoulders slump, and he shakes his head. "I'm just going to not say anything," he mumbles helplessly, hiding his face behind a hand again.
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And that could mean so many things, he could reach for Lasulahn's face and kiss his cheek, he could kiss his forehead, or-
Do as he does, and take Lasulahn's unmarked hand between his, lifting it up as he dips his head, lips brushing against his knuckles in a courtly gesture.
"There. We are, for the moment, square."
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He is silenced, in either case, as he extends his hand without thinking, and watches the other's lips brush across his knuckles. He might joke that this only means he owes Zevran another kiss now, but can't quite find the words. He stares instead, shy but almost entranced. "...Yes," is all the elf manages, quite belatedly.
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For they would part company at some point this evening. His bed is quite comfortable and there is room for another but he does not see the night taking that particular turn.
"Perhaps another night I might offer a massage? For your wrists and forearms. Casting requires much movement and there are often cramps involved afterward, yes?"
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...Oh. He had nearly forgotten the offer of using massage oil. ] Well- yes but- [ Lasulahn shakes his head, more to silence himself than in disagreement. ] I would like that, thank you.
I seem to be quite lucky you came to Skyhold.
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[ He huffs a soft laugh, sitting back against the wall, content with this new direction. Far better than sitting on his heels and waiting for Leliana to decide what it is he ought to do. ]
Shall I walk you back to your rooms? It would only be polite.
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[ Lasulahn seems to realize the hour must be quite late, and hastily stands. ] Oh- I'm sorry, I've been keeping you up.
[ He sets his cup on the table, and his cloak momentarily in the chair he'd been sitting in, before wrapping the cowl around his neck. He gives Zevran a small smile. ] Thank you, but that's alright. I can manage.
[ While the company would be nice, The Inquisitor is keenly aware that receiving an escort to his room at such a late hour will spark rumors he doesn't want to contend with- nor does he wish for Zevran to have to deal with them, either. That would hardly be a pleasant welcome to Skyhold.
He wraps his cloak around his shoulders, securing it before his attention returns to his host once more. ] Thank you for the company. I'll ask Josephine about the boots for the ball tomorrow.
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[ Zevran stands to see Lasulahn out, waiting at the door until he is once again settled in his cloak, prepared to brave the elements. ]
Do not forget your cordial, mm? [ He presses the bottle into the Inquisitor's hands, lightly brushing their fingers together for but a moment. ] I shall be in the library tomorrow morning most likely, conferring with Leliana- or teasing your Tervinter friend. He seems like marvelous trouble- winding him up may be a good way to pass the time.
[ At least until something better occupies his attention. A bored Zevran is a mischievous Zevran, it is for the best that he has some project. Assisting Lasulahn in learning to dance will suffice. ]
Until tomorrow morning. Sleep sweetly when you do, Stella.
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Thank you. [ He offers a little smile. ] Just get him talking about how bad the food in the south is, you'll be occupied for hours.
[ He lingers just a moment longer, watching the other. Once more, he considers asking after his sleep. Once more, he decides against it. ] Good night, Zevran.
[ The morning is somehow colder than the night before, the wind blowing in snow from the higher peaks. Lasulahn is not keen to move from in front of the fire, where he had eventually fallen asleep on the fur rug under a heavy quilt. (The Orlesians would have a field day with that, too, he imagines. The leader of the Inquisition, sleeping on a rug in front of the fire like a dog.)
The sight of the cordial on his desk brings a smile, though, and the thought of dancing lessons makes leaving the warmth of the fire a little more tolerable.
It takes a little time for Josephine to be free enough to attend to such a trivial matter. The new boots are decidedly uncomfortable, but Josephine assures him they'll 'break in' with time. The elf isn't quite as sure, but they're a necessity. Being an elf and a mage will make it difficult enough to be taken seriously at the Winter Palace. Showing up in any manner of Dalish dress will not help his matters.
He nearly trips on the stairs, and is thankful that there is no one but Solas to see it. He ascends the rest far more carefully, following the sound of Zevran's distinct voice to find him, and then waits patiently aside so as not to interrupt. ]
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Better braced for the weather now that he knows what to expect, Zevran bundles himself up in the morning and wanders his way past the rather delicately painted mural on the first floor, endures some rather odd and probing questions regarding his facial tattoo from Solas (No, he is not actively Dalish though his mother was, no they are not Dalish tattoos, yes he has them all over, would he wish to see for himself?) before winding his way past Dorian to Leliana and promising a story of the fifth blight for comparison's sake.
One meeting where the Venatori and Crow issue will be delegated to other trustworthy agents and his signing on with the Inquisition is made more formal than a late-night evening conversation with the Inquisitor (no he's not only doing this because Lasulahn is pretty, yes he means it, no he's not here to seduce anyone out of doing their jobs) he settles at the banister next to Dorian indeed, sharing one of many, many tales. ]
To which I insisted that we were twins- the look on the guard's face, let me tell you, was marvelous in its incredulity. And then Oghren, of course, has a sober moment of brilliance and says- [ Zevran manages a passable imitation of the dwarf's gravely tone. ] 'I'm the pretty one.'
[ Pause for laughter, and it is lovely laughter, before continuing to turn in a grand gesture for the next part of the tale only to see Lasulahn and brighten for his company. ] Stella! I see Josephine has in fact found you some worthwhile boots- and they are of Antivan leather? Marvelous.
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[ He looks down to the boots, turning one foot to better show the soft leather. ] Yes, so Josephine has told me. [ The elf tries not to sound as though he dislikes it too much. He's appreciative of the effort the ambassador has gone through to procure custom boots for him, meant to minimize his discomfort. He feels he perhaps should have just gritted his teeth and born it. As uncomfortable as these are, though, they're not outright painful yet.
They're for the Winter Palace, he explains to Dorian in passing, and he's just trying to get used to them so as not to make a fool of himself. ]
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wherein zev gives his opinions of the advisors and companions.
beautiful.
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