Author's notes: Hey guys! Thanks for the awesome feedback, and thank you to those of you that put the story in their favs and alerts!
In my eagerness to post the last chapter, I forgot to thank Guest for the wonderful review! I hope you're still reading and enjoying the story!
Many, many thanks to my beta, Epiphany Sola Gratia!
Here's a short, silly one. Enjoy!
Party banter
Zevran: Warden?
Tara: Yeah, Sexy?
Zevran: You look stressed. Is there anything I could do to offer you some… relief?
Tara: Ugh.
Zevran: … I'm sorry, 'ugh'?
Tara: Damn right, ugh! I expected so much more from you, Sexy. I should have known when you threw me that 'sex goddess' line that it would all be downhill from there. That was pretty hard to top. You set the bar that high, and then you give me 'stress relief'? Hence, 'ugh'!
Zevran: I am sorry. You are right. I will strive to do better.
Tara: I certainly hope so.
Zevran: You are very hard to impress, my Warden.
Tara: I'm so not. You're not trying hard enough, is all. All it takes is nice, colourful imagery. You could ask me if you could… water my tulip? Tuck my blanket? Borrow my sheath?
Zevran: Sheet?
Tara: Sheath.
Zevran: I see. Do you have many of these crude but effective metaphors, then?
Tara: Oh yeah! In the Tower, we had a whole code for it. You know, so that the teachers and Templars wouldn't know what we were talking about.
Wynne: Oh, please…
Tara: What? Wynne, were you listening?
Wynne: Oh, the arrogance of youth. You think you're all so clever? We all knew the code, of course. It was so blatantly transparent.
Tara: I feel both very proud of you and strangely mortified.
Tara: So, Alistair, I heard something…
Alistair: What? Why are you looking at me like that?
Tara: I heard that Zevran finally gave you a tattoo!
Alistair: Oh, that? Well, yes.
Tara: I heard it was in some… unmentionable place.
Alistair: What? Did he say that? No! It was on my back. My back! My lower back! Very mentionable. See how I keep mentioning it?
Tara: Oh. Still, you had to take off your shirt, right?
Zevran: And what a marvellous sight it was. These broad shoulders, these muscular arms, the tantalizing place where his taut stomach starts to widen at the hips, his trousers resting just below his hipbones…
Tara: Oooooh…
Alistair: How… (whispers) how is that not talking about it again ever?
Zevran: I lied, of course. I was never going to keep that delicious bit to myself.
Tara: So Wynne… about the… code… you all knew them? Like if a guy said he wanted to… dip his quill in your ink?
Wynne: (Sighs) Yes…
Tara: Plow your garden?
Wynne: Truly you do not see how very unsubtle these all are?
Tara: Cure your headache with his magical staff?
Wynne: I… oh. Oh dear…
Tara: What? You never heard that one?
Wynne: I did. One of my students said that, once… to me.
Zevran: Ah, Wynne, I am not the only one swayed by your magical bosom, I see!
Tara: What did you tell him?
Wynne: I… thought he was genuine. I told him that I would make him do it to me in front of the group and…
Tara and Zevran: …and?
Wynne: …oh dear… and that I would grade him on it.
Tara: Oh no, you didn't!
Wynne: He didn't show up to his lessons for a whole week, after. I thought I had called his bluff.
Zevran: Well, his loss, I say.
Tara: So, Sweetie… about that tattoo…
Alistair: What now?
Tara: I heard there was some oil involved?
Alistair: Ah, yes, he… huh… rubbed some oil on the tattooed spot.
Zevran: My hands were slippery with oil on his hot, toned body, his tanned skin glistening in the firelight as I rubbed and massaged and stroked his back…
Tara: Ooooooh…
Alistair: (Groans)
Zevran: I was shirtless, as well.
Tara: Ooooh!
Alistair: Are we done now?
Tara: Wait! I wanna see! What did you get?
Alistair: The symbol of the Grey Wardens.
Zevran: Not so. It was a bosomy half-naked elven maid.
Alistair: What?
Zevran: Never trust an assassin, Alistair.
Tara: Oh, Sexy, that's cruel. Show it to me, Sweetie, I'll tell you what it is.
Alistair: There! It's there! Can you see? What is it?
Tara: It's… hard to say in this light. Your shirt is making too much shadow. I think… yeah. You're gonna have to lose the shirt.
Zevran: Hmm. I'll get the oil.
Alistair: I hate you both.
Tara: Hey, Honey, can you do anything with this?
Leliana: You mean your hair? Oh, but why? You know I think it's lovely.
Tara: It's a lovely bale of hay is what it is. It's always in my face. Not seeing where I cast is not recommended, I assure you! Can you do something about this? I mean, I don't want birds in it or anything, just get it out of my face. You know… stylishly.
Leliana: Hmm, let's see… oh, how about Orlesian braids? I could do two of them, one on each side, have them go around your head, like a crown! Then you could put flowers in them or something… I wish I had some ribbons…
Tara: Orlesian braids?
Leliana: Yes, they are very stylish, and they hold pretty well… although it would be better if I could braid your hair while it is wet. Maybe after supper we could get down to the stream and bathe together? I could do your braids afterwards.
Tara: That's a good idea! You think my hair's long enough?
Leliana: Come closer, let me see… oh, Tara, your hair is so soft! It's like running my fingers through silk!
Tara: Hmm, and your hands are so gentle, Honey… that feels wonderful… oh, yeah, right there…
Leliana: Maybe we should go bathe right now, yes? We could wash each other's backs… I could lather your hair and… rub a soapy washcloth all over your naked body… Tara, you have such soft skin…
Tara: Hmm, yes, I always enjoy our baths together… and maybe I could do something for you too, Honey… you know, to thank you? I know it must have been a long time for you, right? I am told I have a very… talented tongue.
Leliana: Oh, yes, all these years in the cloister, alone with myself, deprived of the soft touch of a lover… it has been so very harrowing.
Tara: Is Zevran blue in the face yet?
Leliana: Well, something's blue, I bet.
Zevran: How long did you know I was listening?
Tara: The whole time, Sexy! This entire show was for your benefit!
Leliana: Let it never be said we never do anything for you.
Zevran: Yes, I feel very grateful. Now, about those braids…
Tara: Not gonna happen, Sexy.
Zevran: Brasca!
Tara: I heard you.
Zevran: I'm sorry?
Tara: I heard you asking Wynne about… certain practises? In the Tower?
Zevran: Ah yes, the part where mages make love to each other under the stars at the full moon?
Tara: You are a fool, Sexy.
Zevran: For believing such things? But what is a man without a dream, my Warden?
Tara: No, you silly man. You're a fool for thinking we'd invite Wynne!
Zevran: …
Tara: … and he's speechless! That's one for me!
Zevran: But… wait! So it's true?
Zevran: Wynne?
Wynne: What is it, Zevran?
Zevran: You look tired, my dear.
Wynne: It's nothing. Just a headache.
Zevran: A headache, hmm?
Wynne: Oh no…
Zevran: Can I heal it…
Wynne: Don't say it!
Zevran: … with my magical staff?
Wynne: Zevran…
Zevran: I could do it in front of the whole group, you know…
Wynne: I have no doubt.
Zevran: I would even let you grade me on it.
Wynne: Please stop.
Tara: Yes, please stop!
