Broken Sonnet - Ch. 1 (Zevran/Fenris)
Edited transcript of a very old Zevris RP between myself and AntivanAssassin. Never posted it for whatever reason.
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Fenris wrinkled his nose at the smell of cheap perfume that greeted him and quickly began to regret his decision. Despite its name, the brothel really did bear no resemblance to a rose in shape, colour, scent, or level of pleasantness. But it was the place that Varric had told him to come to just after sunset. No, he wasn't meeting the dwarf there -- in fact, he wasn't entirely sure who he was meeting. "I got you a contact, Broody. A guy says he needs a little bodyguard help on his way out of the city and he's paying a shitload of gold to make sure it's done right. You in?" Beggars couldn't exactly be choosers. With a grudging sigh, he had agreed. But as he stepped into the bar and looked around at the "goods", he scowled in disgust , and of course, the older gentleman walking past with a sultry wink in his direction made it no better. One more time, and he swore he would turn around and leave. That "shitload of gold" was seeming less and less worth it as the minutes passed. ‎Gold eyes glanced up at him from the end of the long bar. Their owner came to this place often, sometimes for business, sometimes for the many pleasures it offered. He glanced over the foyer of the whorehouse, sparing a wink at a young blonde lass who had been eyeing him for quite some time. Many pleasures, indeed, though it was a pity how quickly the liquor disappeared. He emptied the last drops from his glass with a half-smile. He slipped off his stool and turned around to swagger over to the woman, but something caught his eye. White hair on such a young elf? Interesting. He paused and regarded the man, trying to remember where he had seen him before. As his feet slowly changed their course, the elf's name finally came to him. Fenris. Yes, yes, now he remembered. The slave fellow that traveled with the Champion. Ah, a handsome face was never one to be forgotten. ‎Meanwhile, Fenris fidgeted in annoyance as he shooed off the third whore that had solicited him. Very close to turning on his heel and leaving, he gave the room a once-over, trying to look for anyone who looked especially important. Varric had failed to warn him that most of the patrons would be dead-drunk and half-naked. Fantastic. He grunted under his breath as he turned around to the survey the bar, more for the sake of thoroughness than out of a hope of seeing anyone worthwhile -- but that's when he noticed a man approaching him from the corner of his eye. Fenris turned to glowered at him preemptively. "No, I don't want to hire you. Find another to bother." He narrowed his eyes as he looked over the man's face. Wait... he had seen him before. But wh-... Him. Great. "How surprised I am to see you here." The man chuckled lightly, his face set in a playful smirk, "I should be the one to say that, my friend. I did not expect to see you here among all these beautiful ladies." He took the seat next to where Fenris was standing and looked the elf from head to toe, his eyes lingering for a moment on the markings that could be seen on the parts of his body not covered in armor. Some of the workers and patrons eyed them both as they passed but he found himself caring little, as always. He took his eyes away from the other elf to order two drinks, holding one out to Fenris. "Although, I must say, yours is the most handsome face I’ve seen here in a long time. Far more handsome than the workers here, that much is certain." ‎Fenris looked down at the glass in his hand with a crease in his brow. The other's movements seemed oddly practiced, which Fenris pondered for a moment while he listened with only the half the attention he should have. Which explained why he was caught off-guard when his mind registered the word "handsome". "Er..." Unsure of what to say, he awkwardly looked aside and took the glass from him, gauntlets tinkling against it. The man grinned and raised his own drink to his lips. The elf before him was clearly not used to being complimented, a fact that both saddened him as well as intrigued him. What else, then, had this elf not experienced? "There is no reason to be shy, my friend. I only say it because it is true, surely you know this. Women and men alike must be drawn to you," he continued, eyes focused on the elf over the rim of his glass. Specifically, on the muscles that moved under the tight leather as Fenris moved in turn, shifting the armour over exposed parts of his arms. The man smirked to himself as he tilted his glass back again. The thought of exploring this elf’s lean body was becoming more and more intriguing as he watched him. Fenris looked at the other man as he drained his drink. Subtlety was not this one's strong point, it seemed. Then again, what need was there for subtlety in a place such as this? Fenris sat the empty glass down and took the seat he had been standing beside. "Forgive me, but I do not recall your name." "Ah, my apologies, then my friend. My name is Zevran Arainai, a former blade for hire, as it were -- a profession I am quite good at, amongst.. other things," he smirked, leaning back a bit in his seat. "And if memory serves, you are called Fenris, yes? The devilishly handsome elf with the beautiful tattoos and dark demeanor." He took another sip and looked back at him, appearing to study him carefully. "You seem to be a dangerous man, and I am a man who enjoys playing with dangerous things." Fenris raised an eyebrow as he dropped his empty glass on the bar. "That is unwise." ‎Zevran chuckled lightly, eyes wandering again over the dark leather on the other elf’s body. "Ah, I never did claim to be a clever man. Though I must ask, that binding leather you wear, it must be rather uncomfortable to wear all day long, yes? I think I may be able to help." He swallowed the last of his drink, setting his glass down before looking back at the elf across from him. "My thought is this. We retire to a more... comfortable room, and I show you the sort of massage skills that one only learns from growing up in the whorehouses in Antiva. I can promise you that you will be quite relaxed; I have been told I have magnificent hands. What say you?" Despite his better judgment, Fenris found himself intrigued. Perhaps it was the liquor, or the perfume that had been choking him only minutes before, or the noises drifting down from upstairs. Fenris shifted in place as he turned the thought over and over in his head. There would be no one to see, no one to know. Dozens came here in a single night to do this very thing. Was it really so terrible? And it was not as if the Antivan appeared to be in the same... league as the common whores here. He lifted his eyes to see the Crow raise his eyebrows in expectation. "Your offer is tempting, assassin." ‎Zevran stood, gold eyes locking with green, and lightly trailed a finger across an exposed scar while a smirk crossed his lips again. "Then why are we still talking?" Taking the other elf by the wrist, Zevran quickly pulled him across the room and towards the stairs. He had been here enough times to know which rooms were used frequently and which ones were usually empty, and was hoping that tonight would offer no surprises in that aspect. They brushed past small groups of men and women who glanced at the pair as they made their way up the stairs. Some of those faces the Antivan knew quite well, but tonight he only had eyes for the man behind him.