#mzevwarden

[trans-ruffboi]

A Hundred Days, Just Like This

everybody listen to A Hundred Days by the Bengsons

282 words

Zevran wasn't doing anything special; just sharpening a blade next to him. And maybe all these sharp objects so close to his torso should worry him, but then Zevran bit his lip a little and sat in such a way that the fire shined off him just so.

He was so beautiful sometimes that Renlin thought he might cry for it. Beautiful and shining and golden. And he got to have him, as long as Zevran let him.

"And why are you grinning at me so, Warden? Have I done something so dastardly?" Zevran was smiling at him; he loved it when Zevran smiled, sarcastic or anything. Anything for that sharp little glance of teeth, that laugh. Absolutely perfect, in every way.

He leaned over, a little close to the knife Zevran was still sharpening, but what did that matter, really? If he got cut he could fix it, and nothing like that was anywhere close to making it not worth it. He turned his face into Zevran's neck, where he was sharp and gleaming gold and utterly perfect.

He muttered into the juncture of Zevran's neck and shoulder, laying a brief kiss onto the mark he still saw from a night ago first. "I want a hundred days, just like this."

He got a laugh for it, like a bright light, just for him. "Just like this, Warden? With the darkspawn and the Blight at all corners?"

"If you were there? Yeah. Yeah, just like this." And maybe his voice still caught to say it, but he wanted to say it. He had to.

He meant it. Any amount of darkspawn was worth being out here, in the light, with Zevran.

[trans-ruffboi]

Entry for zevwarden week,

Zevran/Male Surana

Day 4: Alternate Universe (daemon au)

It Was Almost Like Dancing

457 words

They never knew what to expect, when Asseya came out to play. No doubt anyone who knew they were the Wardens had at least heard about her, but nobody was ever really prepared for when the elven mage was the one that came charging at them with a griffon.

The seeming head assassin with the coyote recovered most quickly, leaping away from the first lightning bolt and mostly dodging it. As Alistair and Heather ran in, the large dog barking, Renlin followed. Let Leliana and Morrigan hang back at the long-range with their birds, he was going in.

Fighting the blond elf was less like fighting than it was dancing, not that he had done much dancing to compare it to. The man weaved around Cones of Cold and jumped over Paralyzing Glyphswith a rhythm, though also never really landing a strong hit of his own. His daemon was the same, darting around Asseya's greater bulk and nipping at her heels, dodging slashes of claws and strikes from her powerful beak.

Renlin found he was enjoying himself, in spite of being in a fight to the death, and as the man dodged another staff strike that would have knocked him unconscious, he barked out a laugh. Compassion swirled around him as the assassin laughed back, drawing his attention to where Alistair was flagging slightly and he shot a burst of healing to the warrior, the bright green light making the man he was fighting look so fresh and alive, and he was sad that he'd likely have to kill him.

But while he had been slightly distracted, the assassin had gotten in close, sidestepping Asseya's clawstrike and finally getting a solid hit in.

And stepping right into a Glyph of Paralysis.

They stared at each other, faces close enough to share breath; the assassin's dagger buried in Renlin’s shoulder, Renlin’s magic holding him paralyzed. He grinned, "Gotcha. Now let's take a nap why don't we?" and set the assassin to Sleep.

The coyote was handled in a similar manner, and he turned to discover that the rest of his companions had slain the various other combatants.

They'd tied the man and daemon up, and after a brief interrogation that only slightly felt more like flirting, he recruited this 'Zevran' and his daemon to their merry little band of cast-offs, with only mild complaining from his companions.

Renlin reached down to pull Zevran up, after untying his suspiciously already-loosened bonds.

"I give you my oath, until such a time you would no longer have me. We are yours, this we swear."

Renlin’s hand was still in Zevran's, and he smirked upon releasing it. "Welcome aboard Zevran, I'm pleased to have you."

"And I am sure I will be pleased to be had, Warden."

[trans-ruffboi]

Six Sentence Sunday

technically tagged by @imperatrixvini since they tagged everyone (hi!)

tagging @beelzebard lemme see them WIPs!

excerpt from one of my Renlin vignettes. my boy accidentally gets in the way of Morrigan's Disorient spell and says some things about how he feels before it wears off. The reference to giving paper and a book comes from @calligraphypenn 's amazing fic Paper and Cotton.

___________________________

His Warden laid his hand softly on Zevran's cheek, eyes unfocused and dilated, but smile far softer and more open than he'd seen yet, never mind in the presence of others.

"Zevran, I like you so much," Surana slurred, and he felt himself smiling back at the simple sentiment.

He decided to deflect, lest he find himself saying something foolish in return, "I should certainly hope so, with all the delightfully devilish things I do to you in your tent, my Warden."

He got a small frown in response; a pout, really, "No, it's not just- hmph;" Surana seemed to consider for a moment, a crease in his brow, before apparently deciding, "I'd give you paper Zevran, I'd give you paper and all the way up to a book, at least." Behind him, Wynne made a small choking sound and started, in her admonishing way, "Surana," before his Warden interrupted, saying to Zevran,

"She doesn't know anything, she'd give paper to a templar, if she could." He said this as if it was a truly terrible and ridiculous thing, and Zevran suspected that he had stumbled upon another peculiarity of these Circle mages that he was unaware of.