today, i feel the harmony between.

taking in anything that seems like it could be love. [ isola affiliated ]

[viladlind]

                       i.  [ app ]  ii.  [ stats ]   iii.  [ rules ]  iv.  [ art ]  v. [ credit ]                               ♡ lives at the nest in archimedes with zevran ♡

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[highprinceadolin]

That was what happened when two bold people met. It was almost like a dance - one stepped forward, the other yielded just enough to keep the rhythm going. This time, Adolin's smile sharpened ever so slightly when he noticed her hand move.

Without missing the cue, he moves his own to take hers, inclining his head to press a perfectly gentlemanly kiss to the back of her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Fiyero the bard" - he said, the sweeter smile now resting at the corner of his lips. "And likewise, I'd say you've made quite the first impression."

The shameless question drew a soft laugh from him, more amused than caught off guard. He let go of her hand a heartbeat later than he probably should have, and even the look in his eyes carried a playful warmth as he admitted. "No... you'd be my very first."

The deliberate double meaning lingered in his tone, accompanied by the faintest hint of a grin.

[viladlind]

fiyero thinks he could invite him right now if he so wished and adolin may very well come along.

but he holds his hand a little too long before letting go, and his eyes twinkle with warmth that encourages play. he likes the look of a grin on him, starts picturing how he'd look with other expressions on his pretty face. just how much would he let fiyero push those buttons?

it'll be fun to find out. ' we'll have to remedy that soon, ' he promises with a low tone, eyes sweeping over adolin's chest. when he perks up again, his hands barely manage to keep to themselves.

' of course, you'll have to gift and dine me first. i'd like to see what you come up with. you've intrigued me. '

[shadowseductress]

you are stressed out? do you wanna sleep on my tits?

[blightsbite]

❝ Coffee? ❞ Any other person might follow it up with 'at this hour'? But to someone like Vanth, who doesn't sleep, something chock-full of cream, sugar, and caffeine sounds like a potential pick-me-up. He knows what it actually is, though. Fiyero wants to talk, get to the bottom of whatever is bogging down his energy, making him so eager to be alone. Her eyes had been on him all afternoon, and scarcely does anything escape them. ❝ Sure, I'll be... hanging around, anyway. ❞ Returning to Juliyah's home so soon doesn't particularly excite him. She joins him at the front of the hall, inviting him into the break room back at the end. Vanth follows her smile as it moves past him, his fingers fidgeting over his chest before finally he feels it tug him after her. ❝ Me? Oh, I'm, y'know. Tired. ❞

Slipping through the doorframe, Vanth finds Fiyero already by the coffee station, preparing it for a round of brewing. ❝ That, ah, moon thing was pretty crazy, yeah? ❞

[viladlind]

tired is vanth's response to her question, as though he hadn't agreed to drink coffee with her at this late hour. fiyero gives him a little look that speaks volumes without her having to say anything.

she leaves it alone for the moment, presses the button for the coffee to start brewing and leans her back against the counter. her tail swishes slowly from side to side, brushing close to the floor of the studio.

' it was. ' for years of her life, fiyero was a trapped bird in a gilded cage. only looking outside wistfully and never tasting freedom. being trapped once more left her with a sour taste— but in all honesty? the stars had thrown worse at her.

somehow, she thinks they've thrown worse at vanth. it very well could be the prison on the moon that was bothering him, but it strikes her more as an attempt to change the conversation.

still, she throws him a bone.

' did something happen up there? ' it perturbed her, that she didn't find everybody she wanted to. ' being trapped like that is never easy. '

[blightsbite]

❝ Oh, uh... ❞ Fiyero's still here? Vanth hesitates at the mouth of the hallway leading into the studio's lobby, at a loss for an act. Given how far past closing it is, he had hoped he would be alone. ❝ Somethin' keeping you, Fi? ❞ Even so, this is Fiyero. An act wouldn't feel right, not after she had seen him ripped of every one he's ever put on, and comforted the dismal, fragile self underneath. There are worse people he could be alone with—much worse, as he likes her very much. She's only ever been kind to him.

❝ I got this closing thing covered. You should get home. ❞ @viladlind — i'm fine rn. really.

[viladlind]

what's keeping her is only cemented by the sound of vanth's voice when he tries to get her to leave. once she notices something, it's hard for her to abandon it. she had noticed his tempered attitude throughout their work, the lack of joking and laughing. it's only natural she check up on him.

but, remembering vanth quiet and small in a bush of thorns, fiyero also knows that's a delicate matter. luckily she's grown quite adept at getting the details of her friends' inner turmoil.

' i was wondering if you wanted to sit down for a coffee. '

it's said with a sincere smile. she has the time for it, zevran already at home with the pets. even if she didn't, she'd make the time. already taking her first steps towards the break room, fiyero adds softly: ' you didn't seem all there today. i wanted to check in. '

[wovi]

[corvisque]

it has been such a long time since he has seen anyone from home. that goes a great way in his positive feelings towards the inquisitor, he must admit. it seems like such a trivial thing, but he never quite realized how gratifying it is to speak and have someone know exactly who and what and where. no explanations needed.

he thinks of fiyero's friends. how much the tiefling must miss them. no wonder he is being teased.

"bards and their stories," he sighs, but it is a fond sigh. the inquisitor and his crow. his crow. his. "how very much like your darling heart to imagine romances where there are none."

he likes fiyero's songs. likes them more when they are about him. he is not sure how he would feel, were the tiefling to seriously consider writing this song.

"most songs are great exaggerations of the truth, as we all know."

[viladlind]

blue eyes sparkle mischievously when she catches onto the slip of zevran's tongue: truth.

an exaggeration to be sure. zevran is much slower in matters of love, something fiyero has had the time to learn. but she so wants others to learn it too. to see zevran as he is and to take him as he is.

the tiefling stretches her arms behind her head and gets up from her chair to prance over to her fiancé, wrapping her arms around his shoulders from behind. nuzzling her face into his neck, fiyero breathes him in. after a suspicious sniff, she cheekily licks the skin there— still salty.

' mmh, ' she hums softly, buried there with a grin. ' an exaggeration of the truth, you say. you're not wrong. perhaps you're more right than you think, my dove. sometimes you're an awful liar. '

[highprinceadolin]

If things were already interesting before, now Adolin couldn't even blink. Fascinated by finding someone who not only played his game but also matched it, he found himself even more amused. No, he hadn't taken the initial flirtations seriously. But now, things were starting to change perspective.

With that said, Adolin’s smile didn’t falter when her claw brushes his collar - if anything, it sharpens. “Oh?” - his hand comes up, not to stop hers, but to rest lightly at her wrist, his thumb grazing the edge of those claws, like he's testing a blade he fully intends to trust. “That's not true, though. I'm not underestimating you," he adds, his voice low and amused. "I'm just keeping up."

At her tease, he huffs a quiet, charming laugh. “Maybe not” - he admits, eyes flickering down and back up again. “But I’ve found flexibility is less about the legs… And more about attitude.” He pauses, almost as if giving her the chance to back away. But, storms, how fascinated he was by her.

[viladlind]

fiyero does so love being chased.

adolin recovers quickly. he's right— he's keeping up, indulging her advances. the hand around her wrist isn't as soft as she'd expected it to be, speaks of holding a weapon more often than not. so he's not only handsome, he's also strong, surely hiding away some muscle underneath those pretty clothes.

she's never been ashamed to be greedy. it seems her new companion lacks shame as well. how delightful.

trilling a happy noise at his look from top to bottom, fiyero curls her fingers and surrenders her hand to him entirely. her claws are very gentle, careful not to nick him. to have him surrender to them so readily does something indecent to her.

she's expecting a kiss to the hand as she introduces herself. ' my name is fiyero. travelling bard. you've been delightful so far, dear adolin. '

and added, very cheekily: ' have you been with a tiefling before? '

[blightsbite]

It's a gentle touch, but the fragile body beneath it still startles. Vanth jumps, and his thistles rustle, but he doesn't bare teeth. It wouldn't matter with him face down in the dirt. No one would see it—neither help nor hunter. The unknown presence comes closer, shushing him. Whatever they are, he gives them all his submission. He has no fight left in him anymore; he wouldn't, even if they meant him harm. So he lies there acceptant, like a catch with its leg snared in a trap, leaving its fate in another's hands. Then comes a voice, kind and quiet and familiar. ❝ Oh… ❞ Vanth laughs a little in bleak recognition. Is it better or worse that he knows this voice, this hand upon him? He isn't sure what fate he hoped for, but he understands now that it will only be mercy. ❝ Hey, Fi… ❞

❝ I'm hurt, ❞ he says back, small and resigned to his dismal state. ❝ I'm sorry. ❞ Fiyero's fingers comb through the knots and barbs in his long, spilt hair. They forgive him so easily for being pricked for helping him, for him needing help at all. The grass settles around Fiyero's knees as he joins Vanth on the dirt. They, too, tickle Vanth's scalp just like his hands do, and for a moment, he thinks of Jonas. The long nights of brushing his hair with his fingers once it dried, after he had washed it for him. Vanth's hair was much shorter then. He was still a person, too. ❝ A devil did..? ❞ And his head shifts a little, exposing almost a profile, but not quite. ❝ Did you, escape with your soul? ❞ His throat itches more truths that try to trickle out. Vanth sucks in an unsteady breath, barely resisting the instinct to cough. ❝ I wonder sometimes, if maybe I'd still have mine... if I knew I was dealing with a devil. It called itself Yophiel, an angel sent to help me... A soul seemed like, s- such a small price to pay for salvation—to a kid, anyway... What did your devil offer you? ❞

[viladlind]

hearing an apology for hurt sparks hurt in its own right. as burdensome as his position as leader and healer can be, fiyero has never required pitiful submission in return. the fact that he can make it all a little better is a gift. that not all pain is something that has to be suffered to become easier on somebody's shoulders. with the shine of his soul, he can take it away.

he knows he can take away the cuts and bruises on vanth. the dry cough that hurts his throat, the prickly vines that scratch him open everywhere. they are a small obstacle.

but the hurt in his being is another matter entirely.

' for the moment, ' he replies softly, slowly starting to comb leaves out of vanth's hair. he leaves the thorns alone for now. ' he chases me with temptations. i have something stuck in my mind. it has the potential to destroy who i am. that's just as good as killing me. '

he thinks that grants him understanding, if only a little. to lose your soul, it's a terrible thing. something so intrinsically yourself taken away from you.

' he offers to rid me of it. i'm not going to take that deal. but i'd understand if my friends did. '

said with weight, leaning over vanth on his knees as though he's ready to speak a prayer to lathander to make him better. to help him in his need. but he doesn't need lathander.

a kid, vanth says. gods.

' a child would not know any better. they're cruel, devils. they take those most vulnerable and prey on their needs. mine does, too. it's no fault of your own, vanth. '

[mortememoria]

pause is given, watching sparks fly from metal embedded within metal. machine left seizing, heavy whirs playing like a frazzled chorus before a blade of wind sent it crashing over. silence follows its downfall, making sure its down for the count before a weighted sigh is heaved and the archer arches forward.

"haaaah...! haa... reunions are suppose ta be somethin' sweet! romantic!" holding himself with palms pressed against a knee each, raven tires to catch his breath ( even if most of it is given to complaints ). it was almost difficult to believe he made it this far, given how he sounds right now.

( "what kinda crummy setup are they givin' me here!" )

last visit blessed him with a wonderful wave of excitement, a kiss upon his cheek. he was over the moon, then. he didn't want to be in it!

"i've been dyin' ta catch up with ya, fiyero darlin', but this ain't the kinda starry night i was aimin' fer..."

( @viladlind )

[viladlind]

fiyero has some physical prowess, but not nearly enough to leave herself in the middle of a battlefield at all times. why would she, when others were able to do the work for her? she's handy with a rapier at best, but excels at shooting people from afar, and running away quickly when some of them come after her.

so it takes a while for raven to catch up with her, or for fiyero to even notice him. she's been flitting about the place expertly, using the lessons she's learned from astarion to try and blend into the background, keeping her feet light and breath low. when it came to fighting, she'd truly rather avoid it.

or give the task to other people. like raven.

she laughs. even in a place as dire as this, the bard's spirit isn't diminished— she's gotten by without a scratch until now, in part thanks to him. stepping around the destroyed remains of the machine, fiyero puts one hand on his shoulder, the other tilting up his sweaty, sweaty face.

gods, he looks pathetic. it's cute.

' you can make it up to me when we're out of here, ' she promises lightly. ' you know my heart is ablaze whenever i see you, darling. and you've almost earned a kiss already. that was a neat trick. '

[viladlind]

i'm slowly gonna get to some older drafts from may over here, feel free to let me know if you'd rather not continue them!

[oldgodssong]

@viladlind

Zevran's invitation to visit his home almost went unused. Andrale, though, understood that here she is without her friends, her fellow wardens, and her usual resources.

Besides, it simply felt too cruel of her to slip away out of Zevran's life just because her feelings have been injured by an unacknowledged hurt. She was an Arlessa - even if that meant nothing here - and Andrale couldn't let that get her. Though, she realizes she does understand Alistair's hurt better now...

This is how she finds herself at the front door of the Nest. Andrale adjusts the hood of her Grey Warden armor, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, before she knocks.

This is the nicest thing she owns and yet she is aware she looks like she is stepping into battle. Andrale hopes that if Zevran is not home that Fiyero, his fiance, is only understanding.

She doesn't want a first meeting to end up in bloodshed. Andrale has had enough of that from the Blight to last her the rest of her life.

[viladlind]

a knock at the nest's door isn't unusual. many people come and go, from each of the pair's lovers to their friends and colleagues. zevran enjoys hosting and fiyero is never one to deny him.

so it's excitement that lets his tail jump from left to right as he gets up from his corner in the living room, paper and ink strewn about after a session of writing sheet music. he could use the break, silence not something that the tiefling enjoys for longer periods of time. scratch, curled up at his feet until now, joins fiyero as he pads across the house to get to the door.

' oh, hello! ' not somebody he was expecting, how rare. the woman is clad in armour that makes her look rather fetching, and it only takes one look for fiyero to realize who it is. he grins, all fangs, leaning into the door he's still holding into.

' andrale, is it not? zevran told me about you. '

andrale and their daring adventures, for one, but more importantly andrale and her mercy. fiyero felt gratitude for her when he first heard the story— without her, he may very well have never met his fiancé.

waving her inside, fiyero takes a step backwards. ' come in, come in! don't mind the pets, they're always excited about new visitors. '

[nixscriptum]

[corvisque]

zevran blinks, narrows his eyes as he considers the question.

"his company is enjoyable."

feelings from the night before bubble back to the surface, the strange significance of the inquisitor choosing to link his fingers with the assassin's. the gentle touches. and much like the night before, zevran chooses to ignore them. he is not a schoolboy with a crush, struck dumb by simple affection. he has had too many lovers, seen too much to be thus. he likes the inquisitor, it is true. because he is a likable man, and attractive. zevran likes attractive men. in the way he is sure fiyero means, though?

of course not.

"and the sex was good. that goes a long way in making me happy, as you say."

he eyes her.

"and how could i not be in a good mood when my lovely fiancé is looking at me like the cat that got the cream?"

[viladlind]

sighing theatrically, the tiefling leans backwards in his seat again, rolls his head with the performative noise.

' indeed, how could you not? inviting him over, offering a massage, getting to bed such enjoyable company. '

he puts emphasis on the words, calling zevran out with tone alone. fiyero never pushes too hard with him, his smile still soft and teasing.

' but! you look so darling when you talk about him. and it's been so long since you've seen anybody from home ... wouldn't it make a wonderful story? a song, even? the inquisitor and his crow. '

his claws tap against his glass in a nonsensical melody, smile widening into a grin. ' maybe i should write it and ask you again. '

[corvisque]

for a brief second zevran is struck by the realization that iloren's meeting with fiyero had had the potential to go very badly, and he is irritated with himself for not thinking about such things sooner. to anyone from thedas a tiefling would bear remarkable resemblance to a desire demon. he is thankful that fiyero is as charming as she is beautiful, otherwise he might have been woken much sooner by something much less pleasant than a bad cup of coffee.

"it is a shame you came home rather late."

he will not tell her now that he had thought of her walking in on the two of them. hearing them, seeing them. joining, perhaps. one day, if either one of them are lucky.

zevran smirks into his cup as he gulps down another mouthful of the foul liquid.

"you know how easy i am, mi tesoro. i would not give up an opportunity to run my hands along the muscles of a pretty man."

truthfully the massage hadn't been a prelude to sex. at first, anyway. but... well, it is as good a seduction tactic as any he has found.

[viladlind]

zevran doesn't have to say it for fiyero to know. his little comment is all that's necessary. he'd imagined her there, just as she's imagining herself there.

it's a good thing they're getting married. they fit terribly well together.

still, fiyero feels the need to dig some more. she wraps her hands around her cup, slides it a bit closer between them as she leans forward. her ears tip up with her attentive curiosity.

' easy you are. and so happy this morning. the inquisitor ... are you fond of him? '

perhaps it is zevran winning, the fact that she asks in such a straightforward manner. but she's nearly brimming over with the excitement of the idea.

zevran looks good like this, smiling and playing. she wonders how he'd looked with the inquisitor, wishes to see his expression around the man. it would tell her a lot.

[corvisque]

it is a showing of how used to domestic zevran has become that he reaches down to help scoop bark without even thinking about it. he who had never owned a pet, and had never had any interest in animals.

zevran huffs a laugh. did iloren truly ask fiyero to thank him for last night, or is this the tiefling being cheeky? it is difficult to tell, with either option being just as likely.

"is this why you are so particularly alluring this morning, hm? because i brought a handsome man home?" gold eyes rake deliberately, and appreciatively, over fiyero; from horn to breast.

she practically glows.

"is it not enough that i allowed him use of one of our many beds?" he asks, innocently, playing along. "the poor man was so tired, you should have seen him. and the knots."

he tsks, remembering.

"i offered a massage. really, i am a very generous host."

[viladlind]

drawing a claw across the edge of her cup, fiyero smiles at zevran's sweeping gaze. such a greedy man. he's barely even woken up.

not that that stops him usually. ' of course, ' she confirms without any shame, ' i know you like to share. and the inquisitor's awfully easy to tease. i can see what you like about him. '

he had been terribly polite throughout their little chat, had drank his entire coffee. she's not sure if he even liked it, but his cup is empty all the same, still sitting between them.

and he was handsome, hair a little mussed despite his efforts to tame it, glowing the way one does after a good night.

much like zevran. a feast for fiyero's eyes.

' i can only imagine, ' she sighs, clearly imagining. ' you give the best ones. you must truly like him if you offered one. '

[corvisque]

zevran stretches when he rises, considers the possibility of staying in bed and decides against it. iloren has left, and he knows fiyero is awake because he could hear the quiet rumble of her voice when she had spoken briefly with their visitor. that, and scratch and bark are not bothering him, as they might typically do.

he can smell freshly brewed coffee as he comes closer to the kitchen. he can tell from the smell that it is instant coffee. still, it's a loving gesture from his fiance all the same, and the assassin cannot help but smile when he sees her sitting at the table.

even moreso, since zevran already knows what's coming.

it is hard for fiyero to be enigmatic when her tail tells him everything.

he gratefully takes up the cup, not bothering to say anything before taking a sip. predictably, it's terrible. he grimaces, as he always does when made to drink this particular brand.

"he did," he affirms, a moment later. slides into a seat. he notices the third cup. "but you already knew that, yes?"

she is going to be an awful tease about this, he knows.

[viladlind]

zevran makes a pitiful expression when he tastes her coffee. fiyero can't help but chuckle. she was already excited when she woke and realized she'd done so before everybody else. it doesn't happen often. in her haste to make herself presentable, her hair and make-up already done, her robe form-fitting, she didn't have the time for coffee.

though the inquisitor was zevran's guest, it doesn't hurt to put on a little show. they are her favourite thing to do, after all.

well, one of her favourite things to do.

she watches as bark emerges from the living room, waddling up to zevran so he can stretch up and ask to be put on a chair.

' i did. we had a delightful conversation. he wanted me to thank you again, by the way. ' fiyero grins, all fangs, leans backwards in her seat and puts the newspaper down so she can gesture around.

' for your hospitality, i'm sure. what did you get up to? '