corvisque

[corvisque]

no dragon age romance will ever compare to zevran arainai. he's bisexual. he was raised in a murder assassin torture cult after being raised in a brothel. he has a bunch of tattoos and even knows how to give them. he tries to murder you when you first meet him and then poses sexily afterwards. he says he's skilled at lockpicking and then never manages to pick a single lock in the entire game. he murdered his last lover after falsely believing that she betrayed the crows. he regularly slept with his marks before killing them to give them one last good night alive. when you ask him to have sex with you he says one liners like "arghhh pirate zevran reporting for duty!" he gets upset and broody when he realizes that he's in love with you after you ask him for more in your relationship. he proposes to you with an earring from a dead guy before he even tells you that he loves you. he's the only companion to almost completely stay with you after origins (besides the dlcs and parts of da2, he presumably stays with you the rest of your lives). if you die, he never gets into a relationship or has sex with anyone ever again. he constantly talks about you when he's away from you (da2). he calls the sword of the dead king of ferelden "sexy" and says that he "must have it". he's a devout andrastian. he loves being an assassin and doesn't feel bad about murdering people. you can have a threesome with him and a woman he used to sleep with and helped save from her abusive husband. he's slept with countless people and you're the first person that he's ever actually loved. he spends the rest of his life when he's not with you devoted to terrorizing the organization that abused him as a child (and adult) and killing of its leaders. when you tell him that you love him, he says that "he knows." he's blonde. and he's perfect in every way possible.

[corvisque]

kiss roulette

inspired by the infamous "i want the k" meme by deactivated tumblr user tastcful. send 🎲 to generate a kiss! potential suggestive/nsf.w themes may appear

A kiss on the cheek

A kiss on the nose

A kiss on the forehead

A kiss to the top of the head

A firm kiss

A gentle peck

A romantic kiss

A platonic kiss

A kiss to the eyelid

A kiss along the jawline

A kiss to the neck

A kiss along the collar bone

A kiss on the chest

A kiss to the stomach

A kiss along the hips

A kiss in the rain

An upside-down "Spider-Man" kiss

A kiss while laughing

A kiss underwater

A rough kiss

WILDCARD! Dealer's choice :)

A french kiss/kiss with tongue

A kiss influenced by alcohol/other substances

A sleepy kiss

A kiss that's an accident

A kiss while one or both parties are crying

A kiss in greeting

A kiss in parting

A kiss to the back of the hand

A kiss to the palm of the hand

A kiss to the inner thigh

A kiss while someone watches

A kiss to a scar, birthmark, injury, or other marking

A kiss after a bite

A kiss against a wall

A kiss to the shoulder

A kiss to the back of the neck

A kiss while one party is carried

A tentative kiss

An impulsive kiss

A kiss out of spite

A clumsy kiss

A bloody kiss

[corvisque]

was going to make a daddy joke but i don't know if i can

hey what's it like to have living parents --

[corvisque]

sometimes affection cannot be contained all within one person, the assassin knows; nor is it the first zevran has shared one of his lovers with another. rinna and taliesen had been eachother's just as much as they had both been his. it was a wonderful arrangement, right up until it wasn't. but zevran does not fear this now, with a certain tiefling. still, he cannot deny his desire to get to know the others who occupy fiyero's heart. he knows a few already, but there is one...

one that, perhaps, he has been a trifle too forward with. he considers apologizing for his remissness, although, to his eyes, this balduran fellow had not seemed terribly offended by such a bold showing. the assassin prides himself on being able to read people with fair accuracy, but he has been wrong before. all he knows of the former adventurer is what little their bard has shared with him. and that he is handsome, of course.

and a shameless flirt, if this warm greeting is anything to go by.

"sweetheart, hm?" zevran echoes. "our bard did not tell me you had such a silver tongue!"

"well, look no further. here i am. at your service, my dear."

he bows a little at that, eyes twinkling.

@corvisque ⎛ s.c ⎠

balduran had long since accepted the unending reach of fiyero's love- it crossed over with his own ⎛ willem, safe in his arms at night, the sunlight casting a halo around his head at daybreak ⎠ , and he understood that her bond with this blond elf ran deeper than he understood ⎛ and what of the star-boy who walked the line between humanity and divinity? they'd yet to meet- ⎠ , but it didn't mean that he wasn't curious still. of zevran, balduran knew little. he'd thought to convince himself that he didn't need to know that much, because he trusted fiyero. and for a while, it worked. until it didn't. so, he began to seek the elf out on his own-

and it would be strange if he didn't decide to do so. with how forward zevran had been, balduran didn't want to come off as unappreciative or insincere with his words.

more than that, he knew he had to learn how to look at the other and not see the ghost of dradeel. not to feel the weight of a guilt and sorrow that had settled in him when he learned of his elven lover's fate. ⎛ tortured by jon irenicus, dying in battle. stranded on the island when balduran assumed everyone had died. he'd never thought to look after burying his crew, he'd been too shaken to really try to identify any remains. he should've looked, should've tried harder. should've sailed back to the grey harbor with dradeel and lived out a human life with dradeel and ansur and- ⎠

❝ there you are, sweetheart- ❞ warm, accompanied with one of those signature smiles of his-

❝ i've been looking everywhere for you. ❞

[corvisque]

will screams.

zevran jumps, just slightly, moreso from the loud noise in his sensitive ear, and then immediately bursts into laughter. the zombie does not seem to be phased by either reaction, retreating to the shadows it had been hiding in, ready to scare yet another unfortunate soul as zevran shuffles himself and will a little farther forward.

towards the very suspicious cooler right in front of them. the assassin is thankful for his keen eyes and nightvision, so that he can take in the entirety of the dimly lit space the two are in. whoever organized this house of horrors had certainly paid attention to detail. there are smears of blood on the walls, some viscera strewn about-- good-looking, but obviously fake, and thankfully not smelly -- along what could only be described as tools of torture that are surprisingly real metal, bonesaws and the like. and the big cooler directly in front of them.

"me?" the residue of laughter has left a smile on zevran's face that he can't quite kick, his feigned offense being much less convincing than it ought to be. "after you promised to protect me, cariño? what was it you said, something about pain and suffering?"

but he reaches towards the very obvious jumpscare anyway, pulling the lid open with a recklessness that only comes from knowing what's about to happen.

sure enough, a bloody, half-maimed man pops free, shrieking.

"what a smart place to keep the bodies!"

" some people are really sold by the realism, " will offers a half-shrug, unsure himself. " i don't fully know why, but truthfully, i don't know if i care to. some things will always remain a mystery, my dear. "

his tone spells seriousness, betrayed by the amusement at his grin. he's really trying to play up his role as a character in a fabricated horror movie, with an unnaturally nice reception - one of the actors employed there, covered head to toe in boils, greets them as they prepare to head inside. " so long as none get on you? i'm sure they won't - i don't think the actors are allowed to touch the guests, so you'll be fine, darlin'. hopefully .. "

it just now occurs to him: what if zevran's fighter instincts kick in and he does the same to one makeup-covered skeleton or .. something? it's a highly unlikely scenario - to paint it as anything but is to doubt his company's abilities to regulate himself, which is a skill that seems imperative for his line of work. zevran is highly capable and has definitely dealt with more terrifying frights on his day-to-day than he ever could face in a make-believe scenario.

so, the hesitation is set aside rather quickly as they prepare to head inside, its place being taken by simmering anticipation.

" yeah you are, angel, " he lowers his voice, puffing his chest out in an exaggerated manner, " are any of these monsters to try and attack my baby .. i'm gonna show 'em pain and suffering. "

his fists are raised with each name - he's referring to his knuckles. his bravado is dropped flatly, all at once, with an entertained chuckle out of will. " oh? you want my unshared attention, darling? oh, we can definitely - "

a couple steps into the haunted house and a .. zombie? .. immediately jumps in front of will, causing him to shriek against the mood of the moment. they're in what looks like someone's basement - clearly one used for the creation of carnage - and he'd barely noticed. there's a suspiciously placed cooler in the middle of the room - the kind that someone can definitely pop out of.

he hits zevran with his elbow, trying to clearly move on from his own scare. " hey. you should go investigate. "

[corvisque]

one moment he is at home, the next he is here. wherever here is. zevran likes to think he has a handle on a vast majority of this city, with exception of the outer areas, perhaps, but this is not a place he recognizes. a long hallway, of sorts. like a tunnel. a sewer, perhaps?

there's a sparkling before him, and of all people, mira is standing there. he almost mistakes her for someone else. her apparel is...interesting. not something he has ever seen her wear before — and heels. he's a short man, he knows, but now the woman practically towers over him. his eyes rove over her with a sheen of curiosity, lips quirking into a small, amused smile.

"ah, do not sound so disappointed! he teases. they do seem to have a knack of running into one another in weird situations. he wonders what she must think of him.

"you're looking as radiant as ever, my dear." actually, she looks a tad uncomfortable with the extra added inches, but he keeps that thought to himself. "this is a good look for you. say, would you happen to know where we are?"

or why they're here, for that matter.

At first, Mira couldn't really comprehend much of what was happening around her. While it was obviously a magical world, given there's just something in the air she could feel and not to mention whatever abilities she seemed to harbor in this place, it didn't make much rhyme or reason to her. There were several souls running around, who only came up to about her knees and seemed to be, in more or less a rowdy and rambunctious group, and they kept referring to her as 'your Majesty'.

That was a title for one of royalty, as far as she knew.

As she was sitting upon a windowsill, moving a glass orb in hand, eyes watching it before there's a figure in it catching her attention and with a wave of her hand, the orb vanishes before she's slipping from the window before disappearing into a small cloud of glitter.

Moments later, she's reappearing in said cloud of glitter again, standing before Zevran in a stone corridor, looking down at him this time from the added height from the heeled boots she found herself forced to wear.

"I was hoping I might find a familiar face here at some point, I did not imagine it being you though Zevran."

@corvisque ── .✦ Crew Call Script┆Glittering Maze

[corvisque]

a shadow can be seen hurrying its way down the dimly lit street — indistinct enough to seem a trick of the night, were it not for the occasional flashes of gold when hair or eye or jewelry happen to catch the moon just right. with everything so still and quiet, the furious, heavy sound of boots on pavement may as well be the beating of a drum. that of zevran's, and of the men pursuing him.

one of these men curses, and one pointed ear twitches.

ah, to be chased. it has been a long time since the elf has gotten the chance to enjoy such an experience. to feel his heart race like this, adrenaline making him light-headed and giddy.

but it cannot go on indefinitely. already zevran can feel himself beginning to grow tired, and he is not about to surrender the pursuit. no, escaping is a large part of the fun. if he is accurate with his judgment, he still has quite a few yards on the men behind him. enough time to attempt a vanishing act.

to one side of him now there is a window with no light behind it. it takes him little effort to jimmy it open and up, and in a moment's breath the thief has slipped his way inside, shutting it quietly behind him.

there are noises. voices, soft music. the faint glow of a light from a large chamber nearby. zevran had not expected to find himself dashing from the hands of justice into the midst of a party. well, not quite in the midst... he is in a hallway just outside what must be a ballroom, still crouched low to the ground.

just a minute, he thinks, and he can slip back out and away. right after the men run by.

but then he hears another noise, much closer.

@viladlind

[corvisque]

"i will never understand today's youths."

what the hell are you talking about, hawks?

｢𓆄｣ "I'm aura farming." He really does just say shit.

[corvisque]

the little corridors and alleyways of the city always worked well as shortcuts, and zevran has memorized them as well as one might memorize passages of a holy text. it is something instinctual in the blood of an assassin — or perhaps it is true of any rogue, any common thief.

it makes his job easier.

usually, he does not see many people. occasionally he may see some seedier activity, deals done in the shadows, but he is more than used to keeping eyes to himself. if he is not being paid, he figures, it's none of his business what anyone does. and so he runs into very little trouble, all things considered.

and on this side of his ward, his own turf, live quite a few crows that have taken a liking to him; mostly because he throws them crumbs whenever he has any. it tickles his sense of irony to befriend a flock of birds. to be a crow amongst crows. the feathered creatures are much better company than his old brothers-in-arms ever were.

he is on his way to deliver something to them now, in fact, when he sees the looming figure ahead. his footfalls are quiet and catlike, his approach well-guarded. he is not surprised to see another soul, but the man does not look very friendly. a big, wretched looking bird sits perched on one shoulder.

the assassin holds up his hands in a gesture of peace.

"such a scary look, my friend! i have no business with you, do not worry. just a stranger passing through."

@corvisque

Moving from place to place without drawing attention was one of the first things that Vicious had learned during his early years in the syndicate. Roaming eyes were problematic. If he got tied up in a deal that caught the attention of the authorities, a bounty would be put on his head, and every hunter hungry for a payout would be looking for him. It made invisibility an ideal trait, and this ward had plenty of narrow passages intersecting the city. Nestled between the alabaster columns, Vicious moved about, taking note of the landmarks. The sound of croaking echoed through the winding streets, the cormorant on his shoulder spreading his wings and batting them to ward off the curious murder of crows that had already claimed this corner of Archimedes.

Narrowing his eyes, Vicious turns his attention away from the corvids, and instead stops moving when a shadow bends around the road, signaling that someone was coming around the corner. He doesn't make a sound. Instead, he keeps his stance, and stares directly at whoever it was approaching. He's used to the type of people who slink around the hidden routes of a city. They were usually up to no good, or they were unfortunate bystanders that were prone to getting robbed.

" Who is there? " He asks directly.

[corvisque]

for a moment the assassin is not sure mira will heed his call.

there is a long pause before she finally does, and zevran can only sigh in relief as she slips into the alley beside him. he can still hear the furious flapping of the horde's wings, near enough that he can be sure they have not flown too far past where the two now hide.

"do not worry about me." he waves off her concern easily. he has been lucky so far. his luck might run out, eventually. still, he has a fair amount of confidence in his ability to remain unseen, if not in his ability to fight any of these creatures off. what a terrible day, again, to be a relatively normal man in the midst of magic and chaos.

"you shouldn't be out here. and neither should i, for that matter." it would be so much easier to care only for himself, but he has gone and formed connections, and so he feels he cannot leave her alone and allow her to get hurt.

"we need to find somewhere safe. i would hate to still be standing around when those friends of ours realize they are chasing a ghost."

his eyes scanning for any doorway, cursing himself for not carrying any tool appropriate for picking locks.

For a moment, Mira isn't certain if she should listen when he's calling her to come down to where he is. The risk of drawing the birds towards him is an unsettling thought because what if he couldn't deal with them either? Yet, no doubt if she'd continued on, he might be worried right?

Lips pressed together for a moment, finally making up her mind before she's quickly descending from where she was in the air, making her way towards alleyway herself, ducking into it before the swarm of birds turn to catch sight of her hiding there before she's moving closer towards Zevran.

“I’m sorry Zevran, I had no intention of dragging danger towards you. I was trying to lead them away from another, I felt your presence too late.”

She says in a hushed voice once she’s finally at his side, albeit she doesn’t let her feet touch the ground yet. There’s still the chance she’d need to try and lead them away again, even with the darkness of the alleyway, she was aware just how much she stood out in it from her vibrant coloring and soft light she gave off.

[corvisque]

zevran sees the other approach, from the corner of his eye. he cannot quite describe what he sees as anything other than captivating, in a way almost ethereal — both beautiful and vaguely haunting. he has become inured to all sorts of strange beings in this world, but he has not yet seen one sprouting plantlife like one might sport makeup.

the way the stranger walks towards him doesn't display any sort of danger. rather, it's more trancelike. for a second the assassin is not even sure that he is the one being approached, until the stranger comes to stand right before his table.

golden eyes flick up, and zevran smiles.

nimble fingers push the drink closer to where his newfound company stands.

"please do." zevran certainly likes the taste of the beverage, or he would not be drinking it. but it is only his first of the night, and he is willing to sacrifice it for the chance to satiate his curiosity.

"i am always willing to share with someone so beautiful."

@corvisque | starter!

there is something compelling about golden eyes. a pang of foreign interest echoes through his mind, disturbs the fungal network in a feeling not shared, suggesting this to be an attraction unique to ethos— a concept he’s been trying to explore more in his travels.

he’d seen similar eyes, in one of the mist-caused memories, the warmest molten metal looking at him as if he was all that existed in the world, baring his soul to them. he longs to find that stare again, to ask the eyes what they've seen.

by the time his senses remind him that the hue was different, that this is a stranger with no answers, he finds he’s already standing at the table in the far corner of the not-quite tavern where the other is sitting. the man seems completely unaware of his musings, so he finds himself unsure of what to do.

purple eye travels down to a delicious looking drink on the table, antennae raising up in gentle curiosity as he tilts his head.

“ that looks delicious. ” he says without really thinking, eyes fixed on the glass. “ can i try it? ”

[corvisque]

zevran's home had become something of a safehouse during the city's last major disaster. the crow himself had been absent, trying to navigate his way through a city full of bloodthirsty creatures without getting culled — but it hearkens him to know fiyero and those she held dear were able to keep themselves protected in one central place. besides, he has gotten used to seeing strangers popping up in the nest from time to time. if any were to become a problem, he could deal with them. or send the owlbear after them.

he hadn't objected when he'd been told a friend was staying for a time to recover. be nice to this one, the tiefling had said. zevran would argue that he is nice to all of their guests, but he supposes he knows what she meant: don't mess with the poor man too much.

so far the two's path had not crossed, and they certainly hadn't been alone together. until now. now, as zevran enters the living room, he sees him. the blue-haired fellow.

"good afternoon!" he chirps, cordial as can be. "i hope i haven't disturbed you."

a statement made out of politeness more than anything. it's his house, after all.

"legato, yes? how nice to finally meet you. i am zevran. zev, to my friends."

he takes a moment to look legato over. he is not certain of the extent of the puppeteer's injuries, but something tells him the man still isn't one hundred percent well. not to mention how awkward he looks, sitting there.

"did you need anything? a drink, perhaps something to eat?"

@corvisque

Legato remembered the first time he felt like an intruder. He'd been a small child, with limbs long enough for his knees to clack together when he shuttered, so very full of anxiety. Small child no longer, he still felt a similar sense of displacement when he was in an unfamiliar place.

He'd been recovering on one of the couches at The Nest for a few days since the turmoil had settled outside. Legato had been in terrible condition after engaging in combat with the glitched for so long, and Fiyero insisted that Legato stay until he had a handle on his body again.

Zevran was a name that he could not place a face to, not yet at least. What Legato understood was that he was a significant person to the tiefling-- a lover. When he had been brought into their dwelling, Legato had not come across the aforementioned rogue. Perhaps for the best-- Legato looked worse for wear for the first few days, even after Fiyero had been so generous as to offer up some of their miracles to the beaten man.

From where he was lounging in the den, golden eyes flicker when he sees movement at the doorway; he tenses where he was lounging still, covered in a heavy blanket, and then eases only when he recognizes Zevran based off of the description that Fiyero had shared with him before.

Now, wasn't this utterly awkward. . .

" Um, " he had no damned clue what to say. Good to meet you. I, a complete stranger, am sorry for bleeding all over the furniture of your home.

" Hi. "

[corvisque]

zevran can only laugh. he knows nothing about haunted houses that aren't, well, actual haunted houses — the kind with restless spirits, that the brothel workers would scare him with tales of as a boy. the fact that people would dress up like ghouls for entertainment is not unheard of to him, however, and it does seem like fun. will is trying to mess with him, he knows. but an assassin is not one to scare easily.

"perhaps they wouldn't. why would anyone go if the place reeked of a slaughterhouse?" still, he offers his own pinky in a solemn oath. "i swear it will not lessen my opinion of you, my dear. so long as none gets on me."

it is difficult not to be amused by the playwright's display. he refrains from commenting that, in fact, depending on the sharpness of the blade, it may take more or less than five swings. and that depending on where the attacker were to strike, he could easily bleed out without the removal of an arm being necessary at all.

"how lucky am i to have such a strong man around to keep me safe!" he bats his eyelashes in an exaggerated, coquettish matter. "you will have to watch me closely to make sure i do not fall into your arms. very closely, i should think."

but he says this as he trails behind will, doing as he is bade and eyeing the building with curiosity and a bit of healthy caution.

" yes! the scaaaary one! " his fingers wiggle in the air, a stretched and cartoonishly sinister grin on his features. " where people dress up as werewolves and vampires and revealing outfits! ooooooh! "

.. he's pretty sure he enjoyed last halloween. truthfully, after ten at night, his memory draws blank memories other than the occasional flash of a drink in his hand and a cigarette in the other. he feels as if he had fun though, and he certainly hopes he will here, too.

" ow, ew. you don't think they're gonna make the whole place stink like decaying bodies and stuff, right? like, i'm all for realism, but they wouldn't do that. right? " he holds up his pinky in the gesture of a promise. " no matter what happens in there, if i end up vomiting, this does not reflect on my character and you promise to still think my outfit's cute even if it gets guts all over it. deal? "

a smile cracks on his face once more, and will can't hold his laughter in this time. " that's right, baby! me and my meaty body will protect you from everythin' .. i've got muscles for days. to get through one of these, "

he flexes, emphasising the curve of his arm's muscle. " you need at least five axe chops. yeah yeah, i know, don't swoon. "

lowering his arm, the attached hand comes to rest at his hip. the other gestures forward. " well, what are you waiting for? let's get going! "

he walks towards the entrance quickly, hands over some papers, awaits by the entrance of the haunted house.

[corvisque]

🤐 𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 : 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴. 𝘯𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩. 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 (+ 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦) 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘦.

🕊️ 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞

01. gently brushing the other's hair out of their face to tuck behind their ear. 02. wrapping a blanket around their shoulders from behind. 03. brushing tears off of their cheeks. 04. reaching out hesitantly before resting a hand on their back. 05. placing a cup of tea or coffee in front of them. 06. sitting beside them while they are asleep to watch over them. 07. sharing silence with them. 08. pulling them into a tight hug. 09. writing something quietly and passing them the note. 10. fixing a piece of their clothing carefully.

🔥 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

01. staring at them in silence for a long moment before walking away. 02. slamming a door shut without explanation. 03. packing their things up, slowly and deliberately. 04. breathing sharply through their nose and refusing to meet their eyes. 05. cleaning something obsessively in silence.

🥀 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐮𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

01. running their thumb over the others bottom lip slowly. 02. standing just a little too close, enough to feel each others breath. 03. grazing their knuckles along the other's hip or thigh in passing. 04. undoing the top button of their shirt while holding eye contact. 05. leaning in like they're going to kiss and then pausing shyly. 06. sliding a hand under their chin to tilt their head up.

[corvisque]

✎ㅤ. . .ㅤ𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵 𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺.

₊˚⊹ ㅤa collection of character analysis/headcanon questions to learn more about your character and your partners'! writing/headcanon prompts requested by anonymous. feel free to edit these as you see fit.

[ 🖐️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat do their hands feel like: soft, calloused, trembling ? [ ☂️ ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they crave touch or fear it ? [ 🎐 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they have a sound, like a song or voice, that they associate with peace ? [ 🕊️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhen did they feel the safest ? [ 💤 ]ㅤ.ㅤhow do they sleep ? curled up, sprawled, holding onto something ? [ 🦇 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat is a fear they never talk about ? [ 🔒 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat is a secret they’ve sworn never to tell ? [ 🪢 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhen was the last time they broke a promise ? [ 🫳 ]ㅤ.ㅤwho do they feel they owe, but never paid back ? [ 💼 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat do they always carry with them ? [ 🧨 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat’s the quickest way to set them off, even if they hide it well ? [ ⛓️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat does guilt feel like to them ? [ 💢 ]ㅤ.ㅤwho have they never forgiven and never will ? [ 🩸 ]ㅤ.ㅤis there something or someone that, if lost, would break them ? [ 🌧️ ]ㅤ.ㅤis there a pain they refuse to heal from ? [ 🪞 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhen have they looked at their reflection and hated what they saw ? [ 📿 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat superstition or ritual do they cling to ? [ 🌊 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhen was the last time they cried ? [ 🐾 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo animals like them instinctively ? [ 🪶 ]ㅤ.ㅤhow do they laugh ? [ 🫀 ]ㅤ.ㅤwho taught them what love is ? did it hurt ? [ 💭 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they believe they’re worthy of being loved ? [ 🎀 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat is their main love language ? [ 🔦 ]ㅤ.ㅤwho do they search for ? [ 📜 ]ㅤ.ㅤis there a story they love sharing with others ? [ 🌒 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they have a dream or goal they have given up on ? [ 🕯️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat memory do they replay when they’re alone ? [ 🌪️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat’s the one choice they regret (not) making ? [ 🧩 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat’s a truth about themselves they refuse to admit ? [ 🍻 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat kind of drunk are they ? [ ✉️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat kind of letter would they write but never send ? [ 🗡️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat is a scar that they have but never talk about ? [ 🕸️ ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they have a favourite lie they like to hear ? [ 🪦 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat would they want on their gravestone but never admit aloud ? [ 🎱 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat kind of future do they crave, and who’s in it ? [ 🌀 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they have a recurring dream or nightmare ? [ 🍃 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they feel like they belong ? [ ⚓ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat does “home” mean to them ? [ 🧭 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhere would they go if they could disappear tomorrow ?

[corvisque]

cannot believe that this man is actually engaged for real

[corvisque]

the tiefling's silence lasts an interminably long time. zevran had said that he would not be offended to hear a no, and he would not be, but he cannot deny the dreadful suspense he feels for that half a breath before fiyero gives his answer.

but then he hears the words, and his heart swells so much it might burst from his chest.

to speak of keeping... once, zevran would have not looked at this so fondly. trading one collar for another just seemed the way of things, back then. not something to be rejoiced, just accepted. but this is not a collar being forced upon him. when fiyero speaks of keeping him, he speaks as if he has found the most precious of treasures. the assassin calls him a treasure, often, but to know with all certainty that fiyero views him the same way...

he draws the hand away from his cheek to press a lingering kiss to its palm.

"you make me a happy man, amor, and a lucky one."

if only his old friends could see him now. a man betrothed, of all things -- the scourge of husbands and wives both, settling down. well. as much as can be expected, at any rate. not that his soon-to-be spouse will be doing much settling down, either.

"i would stay by your side for as long as we both may live, and ever after that."

a small pause, followed by a more sly smile.

"so now it is official, yes? i do not suppose you feel like celebrating such a momentous occasion?"

once upon a time, fiyero detested the idea of marriage.

it was a marker of duty to be fulfilled, far removed from a proof of love. he didn't hold affection for any of his suitors. not even the final pick. it is impossible to hear the word and not think of corher. a decent man, spoiled by his surroundings.

mallenor would have married him, fiyero thinks. if he had stayed the prince that he was.

but he didn't.

and would it not be so much nicer, to hear the word and think of zevran instead?

all of the grand gestures fiyero has received in his life, and it's this that does it: a show of vulnerability, soft-spoken words, in the comfort of a shared home. he has asked zevran before if he's sure. about loving fiyero, about wanting him in this nest they've built.

he does not need to ask anymore. he knows. with that shiny earring now dangling from his ear, he knows.

his thumb gently strokes over zevran's cheek, a practiced caress along the lines of his tattoo. like he's done a million times before. his smile has not ceased, but the silence lasts for that moment, of fiyero thinking it over. to give the question the pause it deserves.

' i wish it. '

a soft murmur wrapped in a gentle smile, mirroring zevran's own. he wants to see it for as long as he can. forever, hopefully.

' i'm to keep you for the rest of time, am i not? it would only be fitting. '

and then, quieter: ' and i wish it. with all my heart, i wish it. '