#young zevran

[kirrades]

Here’s a doodle of a young Zev

[junie-junette]

Young sad Zevran 2016 VS Young sad Zevran 2017. I think that I need to keep drawing as my motivation is high again ! Wish me luck ! And keep drawing / writing everybody ! Don't give up !

[zevran-theblackshadow]

Zevran Week - Young Zevran

@zevran-week  (I know I’m late with this, sorry!)

The sun lingers across the horizon line, coaxing the citizens of Rialto from their slumber. The port is humble compared to Antiva City and not worth the trip, or so the tradesmen always say when their ships harbor for the monthly import of goods. Nonetheless, every first of Bloomingtide a plethora of ships parade the harbor in preparation for Summersday. For the past three years Zevran has waited at the hint of morning light, waiting for the day his father will step off one of the ships and see a little boy holding Dalish-embroidered gloves.

Zevran likes to think his father is a sailor. Francesca and the others in the brothel say that he mustn’t think of such things (for no one truly knows, though Francesca suspects he’s a woodcutter). In his mind’s eye, his father has two scars upon his face–one on the cleft of his chin after a scuffle with a drunk, and a second that digs across the left side of his brow, leaving a snake-like trail over his eye. This scar is his father’s favorite story to tell, as it was caused by a skirmish with Rivaini pirates. He has hair like charcoal and eyes green in hue–for Marina always says that Zevran is a splitting image of his mother—and he likes to think his father has a secret affinity for sweets.

Most importantly, in his mind’s eye, his father will return on a big ship to take him away.

While tourists might find it concerning to see a boy of six wandering the city by himself, he’s just another street rat stealing from the purses of visiting nobles. Nobody would miss him. His mother might have but well…her love for him didn’t do her much good, did it?

The first ship to dock has the heraldry of some noble family–the boy slumps in disappointment and digs his heel into the dirt. No way his father would be on that ship. Curiosity gets the best of him, however, when heavy chests varying in size are brought out one by one from the vessel. Certainly such chests are filled with clothes and fine jewelry he could sell for good coin….his mouth waters at the thought of biting into a chunk of roasted ram he always eyed while in the markets pickpocketing. Whatever lay in that trunk could fill his belly for weeks…

Zevran glances down at his mother’s gloves, a bit conflicted. There’s always a risk that the city guards would take him away. The brothel makes little coin as it is, and he couldn’t afford to be whisked away to jail—today is very important. Today might be the day his father will come home. But a habit of thieving is hard to break, and after kissing the gloves for good fortune, he tucks them away in his pockets. Just a quick glance, he promises himself, and then I can wait at the docks.

Sneaking behind several barrels, Zev inches his way closer to the chests, praying whatever gods looking down turn a blind eye. A guardsman lingers near the chests and the boy frowns. He can see the nobleman and his family begin their descent from the ship as well. Seems a distraction is needed. The urchin reaches for his dagger and starts carving into one of the barrels. Nothing worries nobles like spilled wine, and after a several twists and tugs the wood cracks open enough to spill its burgundy contents freely across the dock. As the chaos ensues, the boy uses the opportunity to sneak around the guards, his eyes solely on a small chest with an elegantly carved “J” across the lid.

He steals to eat, just as he does now, hands brushing with almost near affection upon a small chest so ornately decorated. He traces the elegant letter that he knows must be for someone adored by whoever gave it to them. Or perhaps these nobles, with their piles of gold as tall as the Frostback mountains, hoard their riches like dragons. He doesn’t know, and doesn’t really care. He only cares that he holds something that will give him a full belly.

Morning passes into night, and though he has a pouch of coin to bring home to the whores, the sting of disappointment ripples in his chest like a torrent of rain upon a decrepit building. In the years to come he will learn to laugh at his fatherless childhood, but right now, the hole in his heart consumes him.

The boy craves many things. He craves nights without hunger and days without beatings. These are all trivial things in comparison to what he wants most, but what he wants most has eluded him for six years now, and the boy no longer spends his time blowing dandelions and watching white spires dance in the wind hoping they will come true. The last of his childhood dreams were with his father’s ship, a desperate clutch to innocence before he releases that dream too, to the wind.

(Whoops! Forgot it was Zevran week and totally missed out on the first theme--yet here I am, posting something nonetheless. Tweaked an old bit of writing I had started for a RP so it might not flow as much as I’d like)

[mortalaura]

Aaaand here's ridiculously young Zevran with a black eye and a nosebleed and he's so FRIGGIN' ADORABLE (lol jk I doubt the Crows would damage their goods like that, he probably got punched by someone's jealous lover)

Now I really want a DLC with young Zevran. Actually, I'd settle for ANY Zevran dlc *sigh*