Zevran walked slowly through the Brecilian forest, the soft thudding of his leather boots making little noise in the twilight air. A thick fog was rolling in from the west, signaling that the end of the day was close at hand. A light caw of a bird sounded in the distance, causing the elf to sigh. He had known coming here would be a mistake. After all the years of being away from the Dalish and with the Antivan Crows, they had cast his clan name aside, not considering the Arainai family one of them any longer.
He felt a chill swirl around his feet and travel upward to center around his stomach. Zevran paused, pondering the source, but then deciding it was just a gust of cool wind, though the summer had been scorching, even in the vast shade of the sequoias. The elf then suddenly stopped, the coldness stinging at his stomach and legs. The air around him became violent, a mixture of dirt and ice gluing him to the spot he had stopped on.
"The hell?" His Antivan accented voice was muffled by the onslaught of the gusts around him, drowning out the cries for help, though there were no one around to hear them anyway. A soft chuckle echoed around him as the winds finally died down. Zevran tried twisting and turning, shouting obscenities when the ice cut and scraped his skin, staining the clear substance a light red.
"I wouldn't move like that if I were you," the voice warned, a mocking tone trailing along it, "you'll end up even worse than you are right now." A giggle erupted from the air suddenly, startling Zevran, making him twitch and cut himself again, "I caught one! I caught one! I can't believe I've actually caught one of those monsters!" The cheerful giggles and shouts continued until Zevran cleared his throat quite loudly.
"I am not sure what you take as a monster, but I can assure you, I am not one of them. I do not look as such, and clearly I am speaking to you. Which a monster would not be able to do. Now if you would kindly release me?" His voice was hopeful, but with sure recognition that he may not be let to live.
A slight breeze whipped by him as his captor ran to get a look at his prey. The other was at fair height, almost as tall as Zevran but short just a few inches. His ravenesque hair swung just over his eyes and nose, coming to a stop at the tip of his upper lip. It glinted almost a velvet purple in the receding sunlight.
"Well, shit." The words awakened Zevran from his thoughts and he shook himself mentally, paying attention once more, "You're just another Dalish wanderer, come to ward me out of the forest. Well I'm not leaving, so you can just go back to your stupid camp and tell them to-"
"Please. If I may interject. I am not of the Dalish. They have cast me and my family away as well. We are the same, you and I. Well… To an extent, that is." He gave a slight chuckle, although seeing the boy at his dismay wasn't very amusing, it was a good enough topic to keep the blond alive a little longer.
"Well actually… My family isn't native to the Dalish people. Only my mother is. My father was a human," the boy shook his head, a look of disappointment crossing his face, "That's one of the reasons the Dalish cast me out… Because I was "impure" or so they said. My mother lives somewhere to the east. In Kirkwall, I think." He gave a shrug and looked back to Zevran, who's eyes had been fixated on the younger's every expression.
"I see… You're predicament is an unfortunate one, indeed," Zevran tried to comfort the boy, "If it is of any meaning to you… I would have not cast you out."
"I just thought," he sighed, his guard seemingly dropped, his appearance calming, "that if I could prove that I had killed an actual Darkspawn, maybe they would take me back," The raven gave a wave of his hand, a pulse of heat crashing over Zevran and melting the ice below him. "Sorry about that," he motioned to the newly made puddle of water, "I'll just be on my way then…"
"Wait," the blond said suddenly, reaching out and grabbing the smaller boy's wrist, halting him. "What if I were to accompany you? Just for awhile. You could call it, er… compensation. For trying to kill me. And of course you get the pleasure of my company," He snickered and grinned at his words, searching for a reaction. Thought entered the sapphire eyes of the younger, consideration crossing his face.
"Yeah, alright. Just don't try to kill me in my sleep. I'd rather not die this soon in my life." He snickered as well before turning and walking off in the direction he had intended to, Zevran hesitating, then trailing not far behind.
"Do I honestly look like someone who would kill an innocent like yourself in their sleep?"
"Well… I haven't known you for long but if we're going by appearances… Yes. Yes you do." He chuckled, glancing back at Zevran with a small grin on his face, causing the older to pause in embarrassment. "Of course we'll never know unless I happen to give you the chance. Which is unlikely."
"I see. And would that chance not be now? You seem pretty vulnerable to me…" The corners of the rouge's lips turned up in a sharp, almost menacing grin. The mage looked back at him once more, and for a fraction of a second, actually looked unsure about the other's next move. "Just a thought, you know," Zevran spoke softly and walked off ahead, leaving the boy in his stupor.
"Hey! You don't even know where my camp is set up! Where do you think you're walking off to?" The smaller boy rushed to catch up with the older, nearly tripping over tree branches in doing so.
"I could smell your fire from here," Zevran called, a few yards ahead, "You really should not keep it going if you will be gone for as long as you have." They approached the small campsite, which consisted of a small burning fire, a line of thin wire where various articles of clothing were hung to dry off in the wind, and a medium sized tent that was big enough for at least three.
The blond elf knelt in front of the flickering heat, eyeing it intently. A yawn sounded from nearby, drawing his attention away from the flames and to the weary expression of the other. His eyes looked to e floating on the gap between consciousness and sleep, clearly entranced by the monotonous movements of the fire.
"It is late," Zevran spoke, breaking the silence, "and clearly using that much magic has wasted the last of your energy. You need rest,"
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," the raven got up from where he was sitting in the dirt and trudged to the tent, stopping just before it, "Oh! I almost forgot! You probably want to know your captor's name before you kill him in his sleep, huh?" He gave a joking smile, his eyes gleaming slightly in the new, oncoming moonlight, I'm Lutherius Hawke."
"Lutherius? Sweet. Mysterious," Zevran grinned up at him, "I am Zevran Arainai of Antiva. Pleasure to formally meet you." He laughed and turned back to the fire, shaking his head at the soft mumbles of the younger boy as he entered the tent.
Lutherius lay a long while in thought about the day. He seemed to be having exceptional luck lately. No animals had intruded camp and stolen the food he had gathered, he hadn't been attacked by the Dalish in what must have been at least a week or two, and, probably the highlight of his luck, he had acquired a companion. 'A cute elf,' he thought, 'cuter than most of the Dalish I've seen.'
"Shit." The raven felt himself blushing at the thoughts in his mind, "What have I done…" He yawned loudly as the warm night air swirled lightly around him and drug him peacefully into sleep.
Zevran looked up through the trees where there was enough space for considerable moonlight to shine through, but had it been the sun, it would've been blocked out. He saw the emerging crescent moon surrounded by the dazzling stars of the night sky. Clearly this spot wasn't happened upon by accident.
He yawned, not realizing until now how tired he actually was. 'I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I slept in his tent just for tonight. Surely he won't think I was trying to kill him,' he thought to himself before bringing his legs to stand and walk him over to the tent. The former assassin could hear the quiet breaths of the boy from inside, and, somehow, they lured his subconscious into the tent. Half asleep, Zevran stretched himself out next to the other's sleeping form, his eyes closed and ready for the slumber that was to come.
A warmth across his torso shocked him out of this state, thinking it was the mage trying to finish the job of killing the rouge that he had failed at earlier. But much to his surprise, it was just the soft, pale arm of the younger boy, involuntarily clutching onto the blonde's waist in his sleep.
"Perhaps this is not so bad…" He whispered into the night, accepting the arm with a content sigh and drifting into sleep.