zevrex

[zevrex]

“captain, you were amazing tonight. remember the way your sword went right through his eye? that was absolutely disgusting, i loved it.” fish gleams as she clings tightly to bez’s side, holding on so firmly they might as well meld into each other.

bez’s laugh echoes through the hull of the ship as she stumbles slightly, nearly bringing her and fish down if it wasn’t for her free arm catching the wall to steady them just in time.

“well i was aiming for his cock, actually,” bez muses as she fumbles her way towards the door to her cabin, swaying with each step as the world blurs around her.

she just barely reaches the handle, but before throwing it open she pivots quickly, turning fish just as well until she’s trapped between the door and bez - they’re close, dangerously so, but still not quite touching.

“let me ravish you fisher”

surprised only for a second before sinking against the cabin entry behind her, fish presses a hand to bez’s chest, feigning pushing her away. “you’re too drunk, captain. besides, it’s a full moon. i can’t risk turning into a werewolf in the throws of passion, you know.”

it’s then bez’s hand, shaking from the alcohol surely, reaches out. her fingertips soft with each fleeting caress against fish’s cheek, as if anything more would scare her away. “how long must you keep me waiting?”

fish sighs with a teasing smile, but perhaps if bez was more sober she might see the way the eyes in front of her soften with something else; a sadness, a sly longing of their own. but the look is gone before it can ever be caught.

she straightens herself, leaning up close to bez now, breath hot against the pirate’s pointed ear. fish lingers for a moment, almost as if knowing the shivers she sends through bez’s spine. “goodnight, captain.”

then fish places a daring kiss to bez’s cheek, leaving a smear of lipstick as she pulls away. before bez can make any move to catch her, fish is slinking out from the cage of bez’s arms and bounding across the ship, a skip in her step as she leaves for her own cabin.

the door nearly breaks when bez catches her breath enough to kick it open.

[zevrex]

Bez wasn’t used to trying to understand her own emotions, not when they never needed any understanding to begin with. Things were usually so simple, so straightforward that debate on matters of the heart was a concept she hadn’t once bothered to dabble in. She sees the world in black and white, there's never been any room for grey.

Then there was Fisher. Fisher who took everything Bez thought was simple and twisted it, contorted it all until it was surprising and new. She blurred the lines Bez didn't even realize she had drawn for herself to begin with.

Now here Fisher is, standing before Bez in her cabin, and she just can’t make sense of it all. Fisher is dolled up in a red dress Bez doesn't even remember purchasing in the first place. It’s certainly a piece exquisite enough to suit Fisher’s extravagant tastes, with all the unnecessary elegance no pirate should ever don.

She's beautiful, although it feels like the greatest understatement to say simply that.

Bez’s heart is supposed to be easy; she doesn't feel things in shades of grey. Yet when she looks at Fisher now, suddenly it's as though her mind is full of every colour of the rainbow.

And red, red, red. So much red.

"Do you like it, Captain? Look, now we can actually match when we're out. Red usually isn't even my colour but I know you’re not changing your look any time soon so I had to make due." Fisher twirls, showing off every frill and lace of the gown before stopping to stare expectantly for a reply.

But there's something caught in Bez's throat when she looks at Fisher, when normally the words would flow so easily. You look stunning, my dear. Ravishing. Good enough to eat.

Except all of those are lost, because Bez doesn't just look now. She feels. And her heart feels so strongly that it could burst here and now, just by seeing Fisher and the way her eyes glisten and her heels click together.

Love is far too colourful for Bez's black and white world.

"It's... marvelous, Fisher." Bez smiles, but finds it feels far too soft; not enough like the gristle a pirate's smile should carry.

It’s Fisher that has made her so soft.

"Marvelous? That's it?" Fisher sidles up closer, wrapping an arm around Bez's own and clinging so closely Bez almost loses breath.

Time was still as Bez felt herself wanting oh so badly to brush the stray hair from Fisher’s face, to tuck it behind her ear and let her palm linger to cup her cheek. She could then lean in close, to dare her lips to touch Fisher’s own.

And just how easy it would be to shove her against the wall of her cabin, lips hungry and searching for more, more, more. Bez could then toss her to the bed, claim her, show Fisher each and every way she belonged to the Lady of Misfortune.

But Bez was frozen in place, colours swirling in her mind but hand still at her side, in no way eager to make any such movement. "Yes, marvelous. Red is a good look on you."

"Maybe now I've proven I'd look just as good in your coat, then?"

Bez is drawn out of her daze for a moment with a low, billowing laugh resonating deep from her belly, throwing her head back with a grin. "Hah! Nice try, darling."

[zevrex]

Bez likes to think that even if she hadn’t overheard the conversation that woman was having with the barmaid, she would have been drawn to her anyways. She was always easily pulled towards beautiful women, but even now she feels something different. A magnetism in the way the woman���s smile widens when Bez takes a seat next to her.

She orders a drink, and before Bez can even get a word out the woman has already begun to speak. “You know, it’s pretty brave of you to just waltz up and sit right next to me.” There’s a glint in her eyes, something devious and fun.

Oh, how Bez just loves fun.

“Really? And why might that be?” She leans in, returns her own look of mischief. It’s a challenge, because something tells her that this woman will be more than able to keep up.

The woman dips in close, lips just grazing Bez’s ear as her voice drops to a whisper. “I’m a pirate,” she says and leans back, throwing Bez a wink with a triumphant smile.

Bez tries and fails to bite back a laugh, because she knows a pirate when she sees one. Knows that no pirate dresses in floor-length lace, wears makeup like it’s a royal ball, or is so slender that a firm pat could break their arm. But she plays along, because why ruin the moment so soon?

“Oh really? Sounds terrifying. Any name I might know?” Bez smirks, because she knows exactly what’s coming next, it’s the point she overheard to begin with, the line that drew her to this seat in the first place.

The woman looks absolutely giddy with excitement. “I mean, I’m nobody special. Ever heard of the Lady of Misfortune?” Her eyes widen, glistening expectantly for Bez to react.

Bez is all too willing to play into the woman’s hands, despite how maybe if it was someone less fun, someone less enchanting, she would have already slammed down her drink and pulled out her rapier. But right now Bez is too far gone in this woman’s smile to tear herself away.

She lets out a dramatic gasp, laced in just enough irony to be a bit far from earnest disbelief. She can’t tell if the woman recognizes it at all, the bravado still full on her face.

“Really? Truly? The captain of the Grand Misfortune herself? You’re the most fearsome pirate the world has ever seen; I’m shaking in my boots.”

The woman flips her hair and knocks back her drink, looking all too pleased with herself. “The one and only! I know this must be shocking, to just run into someone like me in some random tavern. Don’t worry, I’m taking an off night from adventuring and pillaging so you don’t have too much to fear.”

Bez edges closer, wanting nothing more than to see how far she could take this. “Oh, thank goodness. You know, I never would have thought the most menacing pirate to grace the seas would be so… lovely.”

A blush creeps up the woman’s face, nearly pulling her out of her act for a moment before she engages again. “I may be a pirate but I’m also a lady, obviously I’m lovely! But I mean, you’re not too bad yourself. For a common folk.”

“Tell me about your adventures,” Bez says, waving the barmaid for another drink but not once taking her eyes off of the woman.

As if Bez had unlocked pandora’s box, the woman breaks character into a face-cracking grin and practically leaps from her seat in glee. “How about the time I single handily killed a cyclops?”

“Do go on.”

The woman begins to drone on about being swept off her ship into the sea and waking up on a deserted island, or not exactly deserted, because of course there’s a cyclops residing there who wasn’t too welcoming. “And you’d think a cyclops’ weakness would be it’s eye, but actually it’s as hard as steel. The trick was when I stabbed it in the ass, it practically deflated. I mean, you really had to be there. Eventually my crew found me and we had cyclops for dinner for weeks.”

Of course, absolutely none of this could be true.

She had just about every detail wrong, Bez knew, but it was like something clicked into place as the woman spoke. The way she talked about this fantasy as if it was real, the way her eyes were so full of life and a yearning to have it be true. Bez was going to steal this woman away and show her how a real pirate lives.

Bez laughs and shakes her head. “That’s just all wrong,” she lets out as she finishes her drink, slamming it down and pushing it away but not signaling the barmaid over.

The woman copies Bez’s movements with her own drink, then returns a challenging glare. “Oh really? And how would you know?”

“First of all,” Bez begins, “no pirate is stupid enough to get swept away at sea. That’s just foolish.” The woman smiles. “Secondly, a cyclops’ eye is definitely it’s weakness. It’s huge and rubbery, one little flick and it’s big arse is done for.” The woman grins. “Finally, there is certainly no way you could be the Lady of Misfortune.”

Bez leans in close, strokes the woman’s chin and smirks daringly. “You see, I’ve heard the Lady is a brutish beast of a woman, always adorned with beautiful rings,” she says as swipes her fingers across the woman’s cheek gently and allows the cold metal to just barely graze her. The woman lets out a heavy breath against the touch.

“Then there’s the jewels worth a man’s weight in gold.” The woman’s eyes dart to the colourful stones around Bez’s neck, then drift back up to meet Bez’s own as she stands from her barstool. “And of course, dyed from the blood of her enemies, there’s her signature, flourishing red coat.”

There’s a pause, a moment of contemplation and Bez expects the woman to flinch and run, to hide with embarrassment and fear.

But of course she doesn’t, because this woman lives to challenge all of Bez’s expectations. She lets out a laugh so loud it drowns out the rest of the bar, throwing her head back absolutely shamelessly. And Bez can’t help but laugh too, grasping the woman’s hand and pulling her from her seat until they are face-to-face, their lips pulled up in matching smiles.

“You’re funny,” the woman says simply, beaming as she twirls a strand of hair on her finger.

Bez grasps her hand tightly, leaning in close enough that their noses practically touch. “Let me show you exactly what it’s like to be a pirate. Come with me, we’ll leave at dawn.”

The woman pulls away just a bit, stealing her hand away from Bez and placing it on her chest. “But Miss Lady, you don’t even know my name!” She gasps with a false bravado and Bez feels as though there’s no way she could ever leave this city without this woman.

“Do I really need to?”

“I suppose not, but for the record it’s Fisher.” Of course it’s Fisher; it’s a perfect name. How could everything about her be so perfect?

Bez swings an arm around Fisher’s waist, pulling her in closer than before. “You’re going to gather your things and come to the docks right at the break of dawn, not a moment later. I’m going to take you places you could never even imagine.”

“I have a very good imagination.”

“I guess I’ll have my work cut out for me, then.” There’s one more long, shared moment between them before Bez releases her, throwing an obscene amount of gold on the bar before making her way for the exit.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at dawn, Miss Lady!” Fisher calls, making Bez turn to see her wink and blow a kiss.

Bez makes a move as if catching the kiss in the air, then placing it in her pocket. Her face softens a touch, fondness in her voice as she answers back. “Call me Bez’nora, Fisher.”

There’s one last earth-shattering smile as Fisher waves goodbye. “See you soon, Bez.”

Dawn could not break soon enough.

[zevrex]

Herc doesn’t really do a whole lot of thinking, usually. He tends to skip that process and just blurt out whatever comes to his mind before he gets the chance to actually mull anything over. It’s gotten him into some less than comfortable situations in the past, but boy, has it ever gotten worse since Noodle entered his life.

Whatever semblance of a filter Herc had before is gone, forgotten, lost to time and space. And it’s all Noodle’s fault.

It’s embarrassing enough on it’s own. Usually Herc would be fine with just dealing with the shame, apologizing and moving on for whatever accidental thought has slipped out. But the pure horror on Noodle’s face whenever Herc says something particularly incriminating is what cements the fact that he’s definitely going to hell.

Sometimes it can be cute though, when Herc doesn’t even think twice about what he might have said being bad yet Noodle blushes anyways.

(Like the other day, when they were getting ice cream after work. Herc nearly tripped over a divot in the pavement, but in the nick of time Noodle reached out and caught him before he could wipe out.

God, I could just die in arms like these. Herc thought. Or he didn’t, judging by the way Noodle stuttered and turned away, a blush heating up from his collar to the tips of his ears.

Herc just smiled and continued walking, spending the rest of the afternoon desperately trying to figure out how to slink his hand into Noodle’s in a way that wouldn’t be the most awkward move on planet earth)

Unfortunately, more often than not there’s times when Herc accidentally lets slip something he really, really should not have. Like right now, for instance.

They’re curled up on Noodle’s bed, not talking too much except when Herc asks about Noodle’s weird Greek textbook or Noodle points out something on Herc’s phone. More often than not leading to a tangent from either of them. Herc’s rants always drag on a bit too long before he can stop himself from describing something like the (not entirely true to canon) relationship between Reaper and Soldier 76 in vivid detail.

It’s an easy and quiet sort of night, and he enjoys this type of relaxing silence. The company itself being worth more than consistent conversation. However, being alone with Noodle in his bed leads to certain… indecent thoughts. He can’t help it, not when Noodle’s so close to him, wearing goddamn sweats of all things.

But stupid Herc. Stupid, stupid Herc. He really thought he was just thinking about sucking Noodle’s dick. What an idiot. He’s never just thinking.

Because Noodle audibly gasps, book dropping from his hands as he scrambles and stares wide at Herc before quickly breaking eye contact. His face is so red he looks like he’s going to burst from blood pressure alone.

“Shit, um. Fuck. I was just thinking, but not like about sucking your dick. Except kind of, yeah. But not like… shit. Sorry.” Smooth, Herc. Real smooth.

Noodle makes a sound that sounds much too like a squeak for someone so big, and tries to physically compose himself before turning his head back.

Herc doesn’t even give Noodle the chance to open his mouth. “Look just, like, forget I said anything. It’s just me saying weird shit. Do you want me to go? I can totally go. I wanna stay and just keep reading and stuff but if I made this awkward I can leave, that’s really fine with me.” Herc smiles, and he knows it’s his weird crooked smile that he can’t help whenever he says something dumb.

There’s an instant shake of Noodle’s head before he gulps, clearing his throat and finally getting a word in. “No, uh, please… stay. It’s fine.” And he moves over a bit, making more room for Herc to settle back into his side.

Herc sighs with relief, probably a bit too loudly for someone who just talked about how they were totally ok with leaving. “Cool. Cool cool cool,” he says as he squeezes close to Noodle on the bed again.

And things return to the way they were, albeit the silence a little more awkward than it was before. But at least Herc and his dumb, thoughtless mouth haven’t fucked things up too bad yet, because there’s really nowhere he’d rather be than wrapped in Noodle’s arm. His very, very muscular arm.

This man is going to be the death of him.

[zevrex]

Ringo picks up his phone, tapping Thom’s name and waiting for her to pick up. It’s an ungodly hour where she is; she’ll either be sleeping or just barely awake from watching the competition. But he knows she’ll be pissed if he skips their tradition of calling after his performances.

She picks up, voice groggy, not even bothering to say hello first. “You did a good job on your, uh, super loop-de-loop thing. Everyone seemed really fucking jazzed.”

He would rather not talk about this right now, especially with Thom, but it’s not like he could really think about anything else, either.

“A quad toe-loop.”

“Same thing, nerd-ass,” Thom groans and it’s followed by a large, sloppy yawn.

“And I didn’t. I messed up the landing, the rotations were right but I stepped out, I could have fallen.” Frustration lays tears at the edges of Ringo’s eyes, threatening to fall. For once, he's thankful she's not actually here with him or else he'd fully breakdown.

“Rex didn’t want me to add it in, told me I should go easy with quads in my program but I can’t, Thom. I can’t win without more of them. If I can’t make a toe-loop how am I supposed to do a flip, or a lutz, no one wins without something and I don’t know-”

“Hey," Thom cuts him off, sounding more stern on the other line as if Ringo’s ranting forced her more awake.

He sighs, taking a second before responding. “Yes?”

“You were amazing. Loop-de-loops or no loop-de-loops,” There’s a smile in her voice. Ringo can hear her grins at this point. Even when she’s not around for him to see, they’re infectious, his lips curling into something of his own as he wipes his eyes.

“Now go the fuck to sleep, it’s like 6am here.”

Ringo sucks in a deep breath, letting the line go silent for a minute. Thomas doesn’t hang up, but it’s not unusual for her to fall asleep on the phone. “Thom?”

There’s a loud, obnoxious groan, her sleepiness resonating yet again. “Shut up and sleep, Ringo."

“Thank you. I’ll see you soon.”

“Goodnight, shithead.”

[zevrex]

The bartender doesn't try to hide a glare as Starr requests yet another cosmo, because this is a dive bar and quite frankly nothing that doesn't contain whisky or scotch should probably be ordered here. Of course, that doesn't stop him from asking for the cocktails he usually gets, regardless of the wayward looks from the patrons around him.

"Dude, do you think this place is edgy enough for that Bog guy to come around?" Jeff rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his more thematically appropriate drink. "First of all, you know his name is Bug." He shoots Starr a raised brow who returns Jeff a shrug and a knowing smirk. "Also, how many times am I going to hear you complain about our one date until you're over it?" Starr lifts his finger to his chin, tapping a few times, and then as if a cartoon lightbulb goes off over his head, "As soon as I'm rich enough to buy NASA." Jeff does a terrible job of trying to stiffle his laugh out of respect for his almost-but-not-quite former lover. He knows he really shouldn't be encouraging Starr when it comes to these things, that it's rude for him to joke about someone he doesn't even know. Even if Jeff's heart does warm a little at the affection behind the jealousy.

"I can't help it if he bugs me!" Starr continues with a wink and enough bravado to sound over the entire bar, throwing his hands in the air in what is undeniably jazz hands at his own very bad joke. Starr recieves a light slap to his shoulder when he won't stop wiggling his eyebrows, letting out a "hey, it was funny!" just as loud as before. Which, unfortunately, cuts Jeff's laughing short when it garners some unwanted attention. "Hey, do you mind shutting the fuck up? Some of us would like to be able to hear ourselves think," says a man who's about as built as Starr but only as tall as him while he's sitting down on the stool, the man clearly not seeing how long Starr's legs dangle as he's trying to intimate him. Starr quickly swivels around on his seat. "Whoa, my dude, watch out. If you shove that stick any further up your ass it'll come out the other end," Starr let's out with a laugh and turns for a moment to give Jeff a glance. The smile from before, however, is fading rapidly and being replaced with a look of pure displeasure.

"You'd know a thing or two about things up your ass, huh?" The man grabs his attention again and Starr quickly forgets how much Jeff hates situations like these, because Starr absolutely lives for situations like these. "Oh, do I ever. Wanna try it? I'll be gentle," he returns with a sadistic smirk. He blocks out the audible groan and call for his name coming from behind him. "Save it for your fruitcake boyfriend." And that's all it takes for Starr to stand up without a second to spare until he's towering over the man, teeth barred in what is both a growl and a grin. "Fucking nice, I was hoping for an excuse to kick your ass." Starr doesn't need to take the first swing before the other guy has his arm reeling back. It's not long before the whole bar is clamouring around the scene, punch after punch being thrown but it's clear that it's a very onesided fight. Starr gets in a few hits and dodges all except one that lands right against his nose. He doesn't so much as wince, however, before he's returning the punch with a smile and a blow to the jaw, then a swing to the temple as the man drops to the ground with a thud. "Fuck yeah!" Starr yells and he pumps his arms in the air, nose bloodied and eyes full of adrenaline and bluster as he turns to Jeff.

Jeff, however, not nearly as boisterous about the whole situation, doesn't say a word before grabbing Starr's wrist and pulling him from the crowd.

.

Starr's sitting on the sink, a grin wide across his face filled with the afterglow of the fight. He can't stop twitching with energy, too distracted to flinch as Jeff uses a napkin to wipe the blood from what is a definitely broken nose. "You can't tell me it wasn't fucking sick when I knocked him out. Do you think I fucked up his jaw? I definitely did. I heard something crack and I'm like, pretty sure it wasn't my finger." Starr promptly wiggles each digit in Jeff's face. "Yeah, all him. Man, let's hurry up and leave, I am so past ready to fuck." An arm sneaks around Jeff's waist and pulls him in, letting Starr's (very obvious) hard-on press against the legs now between his own. "You know I'm not impressed," Jeff says as he grabs Starr's face, giving a stern look as his cheeks scrunch up and lips pucker under the grip. Starr whines, voice a bit muffled as he speaks through Jeff's hand. "You don't think it was even a little sexy?" The glare doesn't drop. "Baby." "No," Jeff says as he lets go and backs out of Starr's reach, not breaking eye contact for a second. There's a groan of Jeff's name as he crosses his arms, watching Starr pout his signature pout like he always does when he wants sex and can't have it at that exact moment. "What am I supposed to do about this, then?" Starr gestures to his dick, then grabs it through his pants for emphasis when Jeff just continues to stare him down. "You can take care of it yourself when we get back, I'm calling an Uber." And with that he pulls out of his phone, now turning away from Starr completely. "Jeeeeff." "No."

[zevrex]

Ringo stared down at the blood-filled goblet, sloshing the liquid as he inhaled deeply. He refused to meet Alistair's eyes, worried he'd see the cowardice Ringo was trying to quell. Then, in a motion he quietly hoped wasn't too hesitant, he drank. His ears instantly rang out, filled with hoarse whispers from every direction. Panicking, he cried - reaching out for something, anything. The whispers only getting louder and louder, crashing and quaking, envelopping all of his senses. Then world faded from his vision until only darkness remained. He felt as if he was weightless, directionlessly drifting in an endless void. He was frightened and yet felt an eerie calmness within the black. Out of a source he could not see, as if tearing a hole through the darkness, a long, ragged arm outstretched. Skin and flesh peeling from the bone, nails long and gray - lost to time; lost to something. It inched closer and closer to Ringo. With no energy and no will to move, he could only watch as this figure slowly eased itself towards him. Violently it grasped his shoulder and the hoarse whispers returned - only this time there was more, growing louder and louder. Pitch rising until they weren't whispers but blood curdling screams. He went to cover his ears but the sound wouldn't fade. The figure began to come more into view, the arm shaking ringo's body hysterically. The screaming grew louder, sharper, as he was finally face to face with with a darkspawn, blackened teeth clenched and pulled into a menacing gtin. The darkspawn opened it's mouth and Ringo prepared himself for the worst, eyes locked with the beast. He was ready. He would not run. He would fight. Then his eyes opened. Ringo was back at the campfire, body shiverring, the taste of iron in his mouth. His hands clasped his ears still. It took Alistair kneeling over and holding out his arm for Ringo to realize he was collapsed on the dirt. "Jeez buddy, you screamed louder than an Orlesian broad in bed," a warden who had helped to keep watch said with a laugh. Ringo scoffed, ignoring Alistair's hand as he stood himself up. Alistair chuckled. "A stubborn one, huh? You remind me of someone I knew." He paused and sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head, a warm smile spreading on his lips. "Well, a couple people actually. Anyways! There you have it. Not too bad, hm?" Alistair's usual cheekish grin returned. Ringo rolled his eyes, brushing the dirt from his clothes. "Is it always so awful?" The taller man slung his arm around Ringo, patting him on the back as he had done several times before, except now it was more of a comforting embrace. "Well, you didn't die, so it's not the worst I've seen." When Ringo scowled Alistair laughed out heartily, the crows feet at his eyes standing out more than ever. "Welcome to the Grey Wardens."

[zevrex]

It’s moments like these where Rex questions herself the most.

The moments after dark, after sex, after conversation - the moments that didn’t exist a month ago.

She’s stroking the hair from his face as he shuts his eyes. Zevran is different in this light. The lantern crackling beside them makes him look almost angelic and she wants to laugh at the thought. A lot of things that he does, that he is, makes her want to laugh.

Usually Rex doesn’t stay long once they finish - making haste for the exit of the tent and not lingering a second more than necessary. In the last few weeks, however, she’s felt a change. She finds herself stuck in place, wanting to watch him fall asleep. It’s a different feeling, something not felt for a long time and it frightens Rex.

A sneaking arm slinks around her and she feels the most subtle of tugs, nudging her and Zevran closer together. A thousand alarms ring in her head, every inch of her mind fighting this motion.

And yet she slides in closer, her forehead now nestling against his. They don’t kiss or even touch more than their bodies naturally resting against each other. It’s different than it’s been before. Her racing heart slows to a steady beat and she swears it’s in time with his.

Rex thinks that she needs to get up and leave. She should be heading to her own tent, away from anything as risky as this. But she’s tired. So is he. It might not be so terrible, she thinks, to be tired together.

It’s moments like these where Rex forgets to question herself at all.