#mxgicalbosom

[cuervocanto]

Sphallolalia for Zev and Wynne, ofc

Send me a word and a character/series/pairing and I will write a drabble (Not accepting)Sphallolalia - Flirtatious talk that leads no where.Zevran & Wynne

When Zevran offered to visit the newly-reinstated Archmage in Kinnloch Hold, Wynne accepted out of courtesy and a belief that the years had changed both of them. Oh, how wrong she’d been. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same, she supposed. 

“For the Maker’s sake, Zevran, did you have a point to make, or did you just come here to harass me into my grave?”

Wynne sat at her desk, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Zevran only laughed.

“Is it such a crime to want to see an old friend? Besides, it will take an act of the Maker himself to see you to your grave, I suspect. On the bright side, your bosom is as youthful and magical as the day I first laid eyes on it.”

But their words lacked their usual bite, and somehow a bitter hatred between them (at least on Zevran’s end) turned into a playful exasperation that masked their quiet understanding. 

“Always about my bosom,” Wynne sighed, throwing up her hands, “and to think I had hoped you’d change.”

Zevran wandered over to the small window opening and stood beside it, inspecting his nails. 

“Sometimes persistence is the best tactic, no?" 

A few moments passed. Zevran glanced at the window opening, reached out, and what he pulled in earned a strangled noise of surprise from Wynne. He gripped a petite elven woman by the collar. She spat something at him in Antivan. He drew a dagger from the holster on his back and without a moment’s hesitation, plunged it deep underneath her jaw and into her skull. He withdrew his knife just as quickly, shoving her back out the window. If he didn’t finish her off, the fall would. 

Wynne had barely found her tongue again before Zev wiped the blade on his jerkin as casual as you like. 

"Wh—”

“A Crow, my dear. I do not know who signed the contract, but I wish I did, so I could kill them myself,” Zevran’s words were hushed and his expression dark, in total opposition of their previous moment. “Luckily for you this place is a fortress, yes? Check your food. Watch your windows. Use the templars to your advantage. Something is amiss within the College of Magi." 

Zevran leaned in to kiss Wynne on the cheek. 

[cuervocanto]

"No--you are not--" Zevran let out a sound of frustration. He reached out to slap Wynne's hands away, but then thought better of it. 

"Let me do it. He needs my help." 

Needless to say, the Warden's recovery was going slowly. 

[reclaimabull-blog]

"I have a question for you, young man! A friend of mine, one of our companions during the Blight, was Qunari. Sten, he was called, though I understand that's not quite a name as we understand them. Sten used to call the Warden by a word in Qunlat, but refused ever to tell us what it meant. 'Kadan,' as I recall. Tell me, what is the translation? I have been curious for a decade now!"

"..." The Bull pauses, mulling over the question for a second, and all his knowledge of Sten, now Arishok, the great and mighty and powerful. All Qunari knew the story of his involvement in stopping the blight, and all Qunari knew of the basalit-an who championed the cause. He smiles, and then taps his chest. "It means someone who is important to you. Kadan. The center of the chest." He pauses, thinking over how any bas will clearly misinterpret it. It's funny, really. "The heart."

[bastardwarden]

☱ (mxgicalbosom)

send ☱ for a journal entry about you. (no longer accepting)

Ripped my tunic. Again. Got Wynne to fix it, again, but we don't really have patch material so I think by now it's more seams than anything. One day I'm going to just burst out of my shirt, and it won't even be from eating forty dozen fritters like I told Cook I would. That was a long time ago. I think Wynne's probably onto me being able to sew my own shirt, but she puts up with me anyway. It's nice having someone take care of me a bit. I don't know.

[cuervocanto]

♦: Slow dancing

nonsexual acts of intimacy

The look Wynne gave Zevran when he grabbed her by the hands could cut glass, but Zevran only winked.

“It is not the kind of dance you are no doubt thinking of,” he said with a chuckle, taking one hand in his and placing his other on her hip.

It was rare when their ragtag band had a moment of rest. Leliana plucked at a lute, singing a soft, lilting melody about a woman who found peace of mind among the countryside flowers and renounced her life as a mercenary. The others chatted amongst themselves, few paying attention to the pair who swayed gently to the lifts and falls of the song.

After Leliana’s song slowed to an end, Zevran released Wynne’s hand, bowing to her curtly. 

“That was not so bad, was it?“ 

[bastardwarden]

I’ll protect you with my life.

"And I'll do the same for you. Bit of trouble for anyone who tries to test that, eh?"

[canutum]

[ mxgicalbosom liked this ]

                                  They had stood in the blood                                   of an Archdemon, and yet no                                   Warden had d i e d. What that meant for the world, Duncan did not know. There would be questions from Weisshaput, and he wasn't sure he had answers. Morrigan had done...something. He hadn't been told much, just that it was a ritual and that if it worked no Wardens would die killing the Archdemon. He was no mage - even if Morrigan had told him more he was not sure he'd understand.  Alistair and the Warden they hailed as the Hero had gone outside to see the crowds of survivors clamoring for a chance to see their savior. Let them have their celebration. A small band of Wardens and assorted misfits had fought a Blight and a world that seemed set against them, if there was anything to celebrate, let them celebrate that. Duncan would stand back and let Alistair, the Hero and the others have their moment. That terrible song, clear and sharp, had signaled it was his time to follow so many of his predecessors to the Deep Roads. He would say his goodbyes soon, but for now he'd let them be happy.  "Wynne," the Commander said as polite greeting as he took a seat next to the mage, He had two mugs of Oghren's ale in hand ( does she like the stuff? he isn't sure, but it's a simple kindness, he hopes. duncan can't stand it, usually, but this is a different occasion, no? ), and Duncan offered it to her with a hint of a smile. "It's all over, isn't it? It almost seems strange.You're well, I hope?"

[bastardwarden]

mxgicalbosom replied to your post:Did you ever realize screw rhymes with me and you?

"Hm, seems to me ‘want to screw’ would scan better when rhymed against ‘me and you,’ don’t you think?"

"Sure, but why anyone would rhyme that is beyond me. What would you want to screw so badly that you write poetry? The planks of your first home? A wheelhouse, maybe?"