[ Currently cheerfully oblivious to any underlying angst and 100% here for encouraging Zevran to delete that motherfucker's ass from his mobile phone: ] He's hardly known you for some time now.
That is what I said! That he did not know me so well as to be able to love me, that he was confused, perhaps overwhelmed with some of the dynamics of what it is we do with one another-
Nobles do not love elves. It is not done. He did not believe me. I told him it was a mask- he did not believe that- I told him it was an act- that gave him pause. I told him it meant nothing, that we were at most friends that bedded one another- he fled in tears.
If there was one lesson the women that raised me before the Crows taught and taught well is to know the difference between genuine affection and infatuation born of desire. Those that want you will offer many things and empty words- those that care for you will act to take care of you. From them I learned to be wary of those too quick to offer affection when most of what was shared was lust.
Right. [ He pauses a moment, awkward and out of his depth, then decides: ] Good.
[ He doesn't have much he can add to that, with all of two women he's seen naked more than once and little to rest his ideas about what love and romance and so on should entail except his usual difficult-to-shake principles. It sounds good from where he's sitting. Very smart. Wise women. ]
I...do not know. Is it so terrible a thing, to be a friend with one shares a bed but not one's heart? He made it sound like such a torment. I-
Everyone I know that feels such things for one another, that bears such sentiment, has known one another either through something mighty and terrible such as the year we shared with Cousland or has known one another for years. A few short months seems far too little for anyone to come to love one another in such a way.
Then again I am to ask myself 'Can I feel this' or 'Can I recognize this thing when it is felt'
I know I wish to have what I had with Rinna again. I simply...do not know how. And I know such a thing is not possible with Michel de Chevin.
Edited (THEN not THAN w2g me) 2016-05-04 03:11 (UTC)
[ Alistair isn't going to argue that. He's going to make Zevran a sign to wear that says 'Must Not Have Actively Supported Empress Celene Or Her Even Worse Cousin In The Last Five Years To Ride'. And then probably burn it because that isn't really his place and he doesn't want to fight. ]
I think you'll sort it out, Zev, with the right person. You're clever. Don't let him being an idiot make you think you're missing something.
However it is- I know I have left discernment on what is healthy to you. While I see no harm in bedding Michel- I trust your judgement on whether or not more would be wise.
[ He sighs, faintly, scrubbing a hand over his face. ]
Remind me to speak with Sabine. She will be thrilled to know, no doubt.
Maker, Zevran, don't put that on me. [ —is mostly a mutter, under his breath, not the sort of protest that demands an answer. He recovers from it—the spasmy rejection of responsibility for anyone else's wellbeing beyond the usual simple and straightforward promise to fight and die for them—well enough to go on to the next topic sounding a little amused. ] Whether or not she's thrilled might depend on why you tell her you did it, but I'm sure she'll be less displeased, at least.
You insisted, you must live with the consequences.
[ Not entirely fair but- he trusts Alistair and Alistair's judgement. He is stuck with this responsibility. WHether or not he's comfortable with it does not matter, it is what it is. ]
I feel I owe it to her. When we last spoke I may have belittled her concerns.
[ Alistair responds with another incoherent string of syllables; he'd thought he was doing a decent job butting out, all things considered. But he's still pleased with the end result, so, fine. ]
You might have. [ But, fairly (and loyally), ] and she might have picked a better time and place to shout at you.
I did not exactly give her any other opportunity to do so. Since she expressed her displeasure at the Soiree I have been avoiding her. She seemed to take it quite personally, the being with Michel.
[ But the good kind. The unmasked kind. The kind that's made living there for a decade and counting bearable for his poor Fereldan heart. ]
Are you afraid of her? [ Teasing. It would be paired well with chicken sounds, if he were 15 years younger and a little less sensitive to how genuinely difficult all of this is; as it is, it's mostly gentle. ] Do you want me to come hold your hand while you do it?
[ He agrees on hat- charming and impassioned and brightly angry- everything he found attractive about those that were not noble in this country. ]
I can brave her scorn on my own, Alistair. Just know that if you are to ever find an elf maiden worth your attentions she has my approval. She wouldn't be too nice to you.
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[ So, of course, Zevran did not believe him. How does anyone simply buy such things? ]
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Nobles do not love elves. It is not done. He did not believe me. I told him it was a mask- he did not believe that- I told him it was an act- that gave him pause. I told him it meant nothing, that we were at most friends that bedded one another- he fled in tears.
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[ No. He is not pleading any part of this case on Michel's behalf. ]
—love, but in this case, that's not really... [ Maker. ] You aren't in love with him, are you?
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[ He doesn't have much he can add to that, with all of two women he's seen naked more than once and little to rest his ideas about what love and romance and so on should entail except his usual difficult-to-shake principles. It sounds good from where he's sitting. Very smart. Wise women. ]
Are you all right, then?
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Everyone I know that feels such things for one another, that bears such sentiment, has known one another either through something mighty and terrible such as the year we shared with Cousland or has known one another for years. A few short months seems far too little for anyone to come to love one another in such a way.
Then again I am to ask myself 'Can I feel this' or 'Can I recognize this thing when it is felt'
I know I wish to have what I had with Rinna again. I simply...do not know how. And I know such a thing is not possible with Michel de Chevin.
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I think you'll sort it out, Zev, with the right person. You're clever. Don't let him being an idiot make you think you're missing something.
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[ He sighs, faintly, scrubbing a hand over his face. ]
Remind me to speak with Sabine. She will be thrilled to know, no doubt.
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[ Not entirely fair but- he trusts Alistair and Alistair's judgement. He is stuck with this responsibility. WHether or not he's comfortable with it does not matter, it is what it is. ]
I feel I owe it to her. When we last spoke I may have belittled her concerns.
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You might have. [ But, fairly (and loyally), ] and she might have picked a better time and place to shout at you.
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[ But the good kind. The unmasked kind. The kind that's made living there for a decade and counting bearable for his poor Fereldan heart. ]
Are you afraid of her? [ Teasing. It would be paired well with chicken sounds, if he were 15 years younger and a little less sensitive to how genuinely difficult all of this is; as it is, it's mostly gentle. ] Do you want me to come hold your hand while you do it?
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[ He agrees on hat- charming and impassioned and brightly angry- everything he found attractive about those that were not noble in this country. ]
I can brave her scorn on my own, Alistair. Just know that if you are to ever find an elf maiden worth your attentions she has my approval. She wouldn't be too nice to you.
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[ And then he laughs. ]
I don't think I'd survive her. [ —but he sounds fond about it. ] There are enough things likely to kill me right now without adding any women.
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[ Well, not really, but it is fine enough to tease. ]