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@sneakystabstab
Good job Zev now I’m blushing to my own artworks and still have no money cause I’m not really working because of you, bastard
@antivasfinest WHERE ARE YOUR TATTOOS AND DO YOU HAVE DAMMNIT ARMPIT/PUBIC HAIR I NEED TO KNOW THIS :’C
Zevran’s romance in one conversation~
Headcanon that Sten has never been on a sofa. Based on this post. Time well spent. Bonus:
“Make a dragon wanna retire, man!”
“Dear Uncle Zevran,
Thank you for protecting my father.
Kieran”
Warden: Zev, the way you look at me now… Now it’s like never before, so…
Zev: And what I’m supposed to say? You decided to die tommorow, slain by Archdemon. And I have no rights to argue with you… Looks like the world will end for me no matter what will you decide.
Alistair: “…The cheese wasn’t even worth it!”
Something really silly I came up with, just to have a reason to draw Zev’s booty, and a flustered Alistair. I left the bet Alistair made as vague as possible, only that Zevran took his ‘punishment’ a little further. It kinda backfired for the Grey Warden :’D I like to think that Zevran would take any opportunity to get Alistair flustered, even if it means suffering the Ferelden temperatures.
A voice cut through the air of the tavern’s rowdy air. It was different than most of the gruff voices of the bar goers. This was smooth as silk, and pleasant to the ear. It was very familiar too. The captain turned her head to the call, as her eyes sparkled with delight.
“Zevran Arainai.” She smirked, hopping to her feet. She finished off the glass of ale in one quick drink, dropping the empty mug to the table before moving closer to the elf. “Look at you. You’re a bloody mess.” She moved a hand, indicating the quite literal blood. “Didn’t think you’d be in Rialto today…”
Her tone shifted into a much more playful one. Maybe tonight would be a good night after all. She moved up close to him, almost pressing against him, her hand ran up his thigh to his waist, gently, before pulling him into a hug. “Oh, I’ve missed you, Zevran.”
Isabela didn’t seem at all bothered by the ‘bloody mess.’ The corner of his mouth curled up in a smile, his flesh pliable under Isabela’s fingers. He returned the embrace, letting his hand travel from the small of her back and over the curve of a hip as he pulled back.
“Ah, and how I’ve missed you, Isabela,” he crooned. “You seem to be doing more than well for yourself. I am to assume this is your crew?”
Rialto was the latest stop for Isabela, restocking on supplies, and refueling on ale. Her whole crew was occupying the small tavern, drinking away their pay. Isabela was no better, leaned over a table with several empty glasses. It had been a couple weeks since she had started her nautical adventure, but it seemed that she took to it like a fish to water. The Siren’s Call was a lovely ship, a fast ship. It did well with chasing down the merchant ships that patrolled the seas of Thedas. And just as well running from the then pursuing navy or anyone else that might give them trouble. It was lucky that she had made friends that she had. That she had a a crew that loved the freedom of adventure as much as she did.
There was nothing like spending the spoils of a completed contract at the closest tavern. Still with blood splattered on his armor, Zevran made his way to the Rialto Bay Inn, nestled in the bay’s port that stunk of fish and unwashed sailors. Tonight, the atmosphere was made complete by a tavern full of aforementioned unwashed sailors. He made his way up to the bartop, dropping a few copper for the house ale.
He glanced around, taking in the foreign-sounding drinking songs. Actually, upon closer inspection, Zevran could see their tattoos, their clothing, their singing -- these were no sailors, but pirates. A smirk grew on his face. This was certainly an interesting bunch.
That was when he caught a glimpse of a captain’s hat and the swish of a short, hip-hugging tunic.
“Well, if it’s none other than Captain Isabela,” he announced, sloshing a bit of ale as he sauntered up to her side. “I thought it about time the tide brought you back to Antiva’s shores.”
Do you take drawing requests?
I need to practice so… I’ll do it ! Obviously, I’ll take only requests about Dragon age (origins, 2 and DAI) ♥
In DA:O, on women, the leather armor has a clevage window. Irritating, but whatever. They do have, however, pants. Covered thighs. You know whose thighs are NOT covered?
Zevran. Is there a point? No. Is it practical? No. Is it wonderful? Yes.
the bf is v pretty & snarky & i luv him
Prayin to the maker
#ohayocon2016 #zevran #isabela #goingonthewall (at Ohayocon)
some more zevran T v T;;;;;; top is a commission I did for @/hannibalsbride on instagram of her lovely warden amalthea mahariel and zevran, last is a collab between me and @richotte (she sketched, I lined and colored)
to catch a crow
Zevran took a step back, releasing the servant and sheathing the drawn blade, but not before giving it the habitual twirl. The loose-fitting servant’s tunic hid it in its harness at his lower back. His gaze did not follow as the girl scurried away for her life, still fixed on the vision of Morrigan in a fine Orlesian gown.
“Shall we, then?” He bowed slightly, gesturing at the hall ahead. “We might move faster if you lead the way… escorted by your handsome servant.”
{ M } – He earned a slightly amused scoff from her, something akin to suspicion flitting over her features before she turned to begin walking. She knew where the good baron slept, and his quarters were not far. While not overly fond of the man, she knew him to be a close ally of the empress. She was willing to overlook his offhand comments about apostates and dangerous magic in light of that. While he could still be of use to Celene, he was valuable enough to be kept alive. It was all for the best, ‘twould seem. While Zevran was not truly a friend, he was once a companion, and they had seen many battles together. It was convenience that kept them from being enemies now, as he was still an intruder in Halamshiral, but in truth Morrigan was relieved she would not have to forcibly remove him. Or call the guard. She kept her voice low as they walked, maintaining a casual gait so as not to arouse any suspicion if they encountered any more servants. “ So, you move actively against the Crows now, rather than merely fleeing their wrath. That is quite the switch. ”
He fell in step with her, slipping into the role of elven servant accompanying the Arcane Advisor. "Ah, well. You know what they say. If you can't beat them... Dismantle them from within."
He brushed a hand through his hair, and checked to see if his uniform had become at all disheveled in the situation with the suspicious servant. A loose tunic fit into plain breeches, complete with knee-high boots. It wasn't much of a stretch from his usual tastes, all it would need was a bit of black dye, perhaps a dash of gold if he didn't need to blend into shadows. But he expected that, even in Orlais, there was no necessity for a lowly servant to be flashy in the least.
Glancing back at Morrigan, he wasn't sure which was more absurd about this unexpected reunion: the fact that he found her in an Orlesian palace, or that she was wearing a frilly gown. He could easily picture the... well, they were practically rags, but they suited her just as well. What use would pretty trimmings do for a powerful apostate in the wild? And yet she was no more awkward in a luxurious Orlesian gown than she was a purple shawl, a scant brassier, and some strips of leather. She was much less an animal in a cage than a lithe predator. Which was definitely why this would be an inopportune moment to point out that he was unaccustomed to seeing her with anything but the classiest side-boob.
"So, you seem to be doing well for yourself," he commented. "Rumors abound about the Empress's mysterious pet apostate. But if anyone had told me that such an apostate was none other than you, well... Quite frankly, I would have laughed in their face."
to catch a crow
Zevran braced himself, drawing a blade as easily as one might flex a muscle. A flick away from eliminating one witness, he knew there would be a second casualty as a face appeared in the mouth of the corridor.
But it was not a servant or a guard who had stumbled upon the scene. Although a smirk appeared on his face, he could not have been more shocked if the Empress herself had discovered his presence in her palace.
“Ah, my dear Morrigan,” he purred, still clutching the servant tightly. “I suppose that would explain why you did not simply continue on your patrol like a half-witted guard.”
He paused, looking the witch from the silk hem of her gown to the amber of her eyes. “And ah, how well the passage of time has treated you. While I would have liked to make the most of our unexpected reunion, I must admit that I am in a bit of a hurry. Your Baron, Feuilly, has a contract on his head, and I came to intercept the Crow who has taken it.”
{ M } – The servant abandoned her hopes of rescue and went stock-still, her wide, panicked eyes settling on Zevran’s blade. She swallowed hard, her throat pressing against it. Morrigan watched her for a moment longer before her golden eyes slid back to the elf. His smirk did little to endear him to her. One delicate eyebrow lifted but her mood was otherwise deliberately unreadable. “ Indeed. I am neither guard nor servant, yet there are those in Halamshiral that command my loyalty. Is there a reason I should not call for the guards forthwith? ” The servant girl chanced another look in her direction, seemingly trying to gauge whether or not she should feel relieved. Morrigan purposely ignored her, taking the moment to observe Zevran in his entirety. The elf had clearly tried to infiltrate the palace dressed as a helper, as his simple garb was identical to the uniforms of the rest of the elven servants that populated the Empress’s winter retreat. ‘Twas a clever enough approach. There were few who would look twice at an extra elf scurrying about the place, even in the later hours of the night. Still, clearly he had failed long before Morrigan had intervened, if he was already drawing blades on the cleaning staff. Golden eyes rolled skyward at his shallow flattery, and she waved one gloved hand dismissively. Far more interesting was his talk of an assassination plot. ‘Twas by no means unheard of in Orlais, but she was surprised to hear that his business was preventing rather than committing a murder. She fought to carefully keep her curiosity from showing, but her gaze flickered eagerly back to him. “ The Baron du Beaufort? Hardly worthy of the time and effort to contract assassins from elsewhere. Someone is attempting to make a statement. ‘Twould be interesting to uncover why. – Come, release the girl. She will tell no one what she has seen, correct? ” Morrigan looked pointedly again at the girl, who nodded helplessly, an air of desperation in her body language.
Zevran took a step back, releasing the servant and sheathing the drawn blade, but not before giving it the habitual twirl. The loose-fitting servant's tunic hid it in its harness at his lower back. His gaze did not follow as the girl scurried away for her life, still fixed on the vision of Morrigan in a fine Orlesian gown.
"Shall we, then?" He bowed slightly, gesturing at the hall ahead. "We might move faster if you lead the way... escorted by your handsome servant.”
