When Zevran reappeared in the evening after leaving Eamon's estate hours earlier, no one was surprised to see that he had brought something with him. They had plenty of money and the others had already spent some of it in Denerim's huge market that seemed to have just a bit of everything in it. What they did not expect, however, was the way he held the bag close to him as if to protect it. Naturally gold was the automatic assumption, then the question of just where he got such a large bag of gold, but when the elf ran off to the kitchen of all places, that was when the curiosity took full hold.
He could hear their mutterings to each other as he slipped away. Really, they had been travelling with an elf for weeks and they still didn't take into consideration that he could hear them just fine when they lowered their voices low enough for human standards. If he hadn't been so happy then he would have been offended. His excited, noiseless steps carried him to the kitchen where they all gave him curious stares, which he ignored as he ran to the little corner he had set up for himself. It still lay untouched and Zevran couldn't have been happier that his simple request was heeded. That might have also been because they were all servants (elf servants) but he refused to let that rankle him now.
The assassin seated himself and rubbed his hands together, excitement dancing in his chest like how his people would dance with their feet flying during the Satinalia festival. He couldn't remember being so ecstatic since he had first lain with the warden. With deft hands he undid the bag and let the scent of its contents overwhelm him rush of warmth: the sharp roasted scent and with a heaviness that hid its bitter flavor. But with it came a pang of homesickness so strong that it twisted his gut harder than any knife. He remembered the smell of the cafes in Antiva City, with spices and pastries and coffee and he better stop thinking of such things now while he had the coffee beans right here and wasn't even doing anything with them. It had cost him a small fortune and hours of running around trying to find an Antivan merchant who was selling proper coffee beans and not the low-quality trash they sold to ignorant foreigners, but it would all be worth it.
There were curious stares, Zevran could sense them, but he ignored them as he poured the roasted beans into the grinder, carefully measuring out a proper amount. He could hardly believe that he actually found a genuine coffee grinder in Arl Eamon's household, but the noble had admitted that it had been a gift from a visiting Antivan and he didn't use it that often. For shame! He hoped the Antivan never found out about Eamon's indifference to his precious gift. It was an insult where he lived.
He hummed a little as he worked, grinding the tough beans into grains, then even finer until they were like sand. Laborious, time consuming, but with the smell that rose from them it was all beautiful and worth every second. It was so close to home, the smell of fire and wood and the warmth coffee aroma that drifted about the kitchen and had even the most indifferent cook turning their head to catch a whiff of the tantalizing smell. Zevran grinned and filled the little pot that came with the set with his fresh grounds, then water and spices on top of it, then scooted it close to the fire while being careful not to set it in the coals. It would have a place on the hearth, out of the way of everything.
What barbarians, who didn't even use the gifts they were given! Presented with the finest fruits of his homeland and ignored them! Well he would fix that, he would see to it. He dealt with the sugar and cream while he waited for the coffee to boil, and when he could hear it bubbling he snatched it up before it spill over and began disturbing it among the tiny porcelain cups, all of them hand painted and decorated in little gold swirls. They were no doubt the most expensive thing in the whole kitchen, actually this whole floor of the house (and he had looked) and weren't even put to use! He ignored the annoyance it brought him and sipped his right away, a silly smile spreading across his face at the familiar warmth and sharp taste that invaded his body and—ah! Perfection, like being at home. Sweet, sweet bliss that radiated from his body and left him feeling weightless.
Humming again, Zevran picked up the tray and made his way gracefully out of the kitchen, the cups barely rattling from his movements. Oh, he couldn't wait to have his friends try them! He would let Antiva seduce them all with her wonders and beauty and educate these barbarians yet.