bakerstreet | the i n s o m n i a meme

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the i n s o m n i a meme

the i n s o m n i a meme

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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"I have, I cannot say that I am a fan." Like a hound scenting blood he leans in, smile growing wider and wider still at Lasulahn's continued fluster. "Did you know your ear tips go pink when you blush? It's quite lovely."

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?"

He feels a terrible urge to cover the ends of his ears at such a comment, but decides to hide in what precious little remains of his cordial instead. "Someone might've mentioned it once," he mumbles shyly.

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."

"Good. I would hate to think you unaware of your loveliness-" There's more or there would be more, but he's busy finishing his cordial and therefore unaware and unprepared for the assault of chaste sweetness thrust in his direction.

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.

The sound Zevran makes warms him, in a different way than the embarrassment from his own bumbling had.

"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.

"Well in that case-" Zevran sets his glass aside, offering his hand. "It is only fair that I give a kiss as well, yes?"

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."

Lasulahn supposes the kisses are merely a flirtatious jest, and not an actual currency, though he still nearly protests that if he is paying for Zevran's companionship on this journey, receiving kisses in return would make little sense.

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.

Zevran turns Lasulahn's hand over, dropping another kiss to his palm, coaxing the Inquisitor's fingers to curl over it as though holding onto something precious. "And one for the road."

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?"

[ He smiles, as warm as his face still feels, and curls his fingers over his palm as bidden before bringing the hand to his chest.

...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.

I am lucky you find me charming. Not everyone does.

[ 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.

There's no accounting for taste, I suppose.

[ 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.

Not at all. Sleep is a wily and fickle mistress for me. She won't be about for some time yet. I cannot say that I have minded your company.

[ 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.

[ Lasulahn looks distinctly worried at the idea that Zevran has trouble sleeping, and he wavers for a few moments on whether to remark on it. Finally, he decides that might be prying unnecessarily, and accepts the cordial bottle. Zevran's hands feel warm, and the touch, brief though it is, is nice. He's not had much in the way of physical contact since this whole business started. ]

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. ]

[ Sleep does find him in time- with solid stone walls and miles of difficult terrain between him and those that wish him dead? Zevran is able to find some semblance of restful slumber. No nightmares for once- perhaps it was the cordial, perhaps it was the company or...perhaps it was the choice to do something more with his freedom and time than stir up trouble for his old masters.

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.

[ Lasulahn offers Zevran and Dorian both a warm smile. He's a little sorry he missed the rest of what sounds like a delightful story. ] Good morning.

[ 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. ]

Until we meet again, Bello [ Zevran dips his head in a short bow, offering Lasulahn his arm for the stairs back down. The stairs are not difficult for him but he's been wearing boots of various heel heights and compositions for decades now. Assisting a newcomer to the notion will make for a fine afternoon. ]

Keep your weight on the balls of your feet for the most part, Stella. We will revisit your stance with planting your heels after you are more comfortable.

[ For a brief moment Lasulahn hesitates, but then tucks his hand against the crook of Zevran's elbow. He's more cautious on the way down, but the tightness of his grip now and then suggests the elf isn't quite as calm as he looks. ] Oh- that does help, doesn't it?

[ And then muttered more quietly: ] Going down feels much more difficult than up. [ Maybe it's just being able to see how far down he'll fall if he trips. ]

There's a large room beneath the main hall. I think it was a dining hall at one point, but it's unused right now. We could go there?

It truly does. It's a good place to start while you adapt to the difference.

[ Going from slick soled flats boots to the proper heeled leather of Antivan boots took some doing for Zevran in his youth- though it was not so strange as going from no shoes at all to boots. He keeps his arm entwined with Lasulahn's until they're at the base of the stairs, walking where he is directed. ]

Down is usually easier once you get the hang of it, trust me. Finding grip with unbroken boots to climb a wall? Is not very fun.

I'll keep that in mind. [ He sighs, and gives Zevran a helpless, though good-humored look. ] I feel like a child.

That... does not sound fun, no. [ He walks in silence for a time, until they're descending the stairs from the main hall into the lower level. ]

Thank you for doing this for me, Zevran. It's... I really appreciate it. [ It's difficult, being the only Dalish elf around. Even if Zevran was not raised in a clan like he was, to know someone that does not separate themselves from their 'elfiness' is comforting. Though they haven't known each other long, there's a feeling that Zevran understands Lasulahn's position and experience here more than others. ]

It is a little like learning to walk from the beginning all over again, I shall give you that.

[ He pats Lasulahn's arm lightly, taking the stairs at a sedate pace. The stone is old and worn and the boots are new and that could cause all manner of problems if they are not careful. ]

Who else would be able to help you? As much as Vivienne goes on about presentation mattering she is as much a part of the problem as the rest of the nobles you will endure, Dorian while delightful has no frame of reference for your particular brand of being an outsider, The Bull- might make a fair attempt at it if he cared enough to play the game by the Orlesian's rules, Cassandra, Josephine, and Leliana all mean well but also lack context for why getting this right on your terms matters most, Cullen cannot walk well in his own metal boots let alone yours, Cole is- strange, Varric is more concerned with spinning the right rumors to gain appropriate levels of support and infamy for you and your merry band, Blackwall's disdain for all things courtly is all but palpable, Sera is...

[ Zevran sighs as though offended down to his very bones. ]

Sera is Sera and Solas is a pompous pretentious prick.

[ a beat. ]

A useful pretentious prick, but a prick nonetheless.

[ He manages the stairs on his own with considerably more grace, remembering to keep his weight primarily on the balls of his feet as Zevran had suggested.

Everything else he agrees with- though Josephine he thinks has made more strides in trying to understand than most- but the comment about Solas earns a look of surprise. ] You think so?

[ He cannot help but recall their first meeting, and Solas' contentious approach to the fact that the elf prisoner was Dalish. Though Solas is not a city elf, neither is he Dalish. Even Lasulahn, for all his respect of the man's knowledge and his fondness for him, cannot disagree that Solas seems to place himself above both, somehow. And some of the words exchanged among other party members... ]

Mm, I suppose you're right.

[ The downstairs hall is dusty but otherwise mostly clean of debris by now. Lasulahn glances around, and then turns to Zevran. ] Is this alright?

He is an elf with a superiority complex. Is that not strange to you? Were he Dalish, it would make sense, surviving and reclaiming your history gives solid ground for feeling somewhat superior to those of us trapped in the cities for various reasons- but he is no Dalish.

[ He is a scholar, a dreamer, an apostate-

And has quite convenient knowledge of the anchor, from what he has heard. Playing friendly won't be difficult, Zevran has done so his entire life, but he intends to keep an eye on Solas in the future. For everyone's sake.

Walking and talking, he leads Lasulahn to the center of the room before releasing his arm and walking backwards a distance of five or so feet, turning on his heel to get a better look at their environment. Not much to vault over but that they can handle elsewhere. Satisfied, he claps his hands together, bouncing on his toes. ]

Marvelous. So- keeping your weight on the balls of your feet, walk to me. Keep your eyes ahead and pretend you don't have the boots on at all- ah and here is the important question- are you wearing socks at all?

[ Zevran does have a point. It's not strange entirely; he has encountered city elves who feel that Dalish are wild and uncivilized, or that they have abandoned their brethren still solidly under the thumb of humans. And he knows Dalish that feel city elves abandoned their heritage for the sake of easier living, or that, as Zevran says, the Dalish have tried harder to keep their own history alive. But to feel superior over both was odd indeed.

He glances away, giving an uncomfortable and noncommittal 'mm' in response. When the conversation turns, he's grateful.

The elf crosses the room towards Zevran, trying to put his weight on the balls of his feet without walking on his toes. By the time he reaches his new friend, he feels quite silly about having to think so hard about simply walking. ] Oh- just the leggings I normally wear that go beneath the foot but leave the heels and toes bare.

You are going to get blisters if you don't have something more between your skin and the boot. Right along the sides of your feet and the back of your heel. Fortunately, I considered you may have nothing, so.

[ He pulls from a pouch at his waist a pair of socks, woolen and warm and knit of fairly fine yarn. Enough to protect without being so difficult to endure if one is not accustomed to such things. He offers them with a half-smile, shaking his head. ]

Trust me. You will want these. Leather, even soft and supple Antivan Leather? Has a bite to it.

Ah... Josephine might have mentioned that. [ Lasulahn sounds a little sheepish. He'd not cared for the idea of having anything extra on his feet, if he was already going to be wearing boots. Still, Zevran's words do make sense.

He accepts the pair with a 'thank you', and leans against one of the nearby pillars to pull off either boot and put on the socks. ]

You really are prepared with everything.

It pays to be prepared for anything, that way you can expect anything and survive it. Though there have been moments I wasn't entirely prepared for what needed doing, I learned to improvise.

[ Zevran rocks back on his heels, eyeing the dimensions of the room. Large enough to act as a stand-in for a grand hall, he can work with and around the stairs leading down once Lasulahn has gained confidence in the boots on a flat surface. ]

The trouble with improvising with a team, however, is on occasion things get thrown into the mix that would have you bust a gut laughing. Such as the tale I was sharing with Dorian earlier.

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wherein zev gives his opinions of the advisors and companions.

beautiful.

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