PART III: PASSION IS RED, VIOLENCE IS BLUE
Ch. 10: Zevran's Experiment
Journal Entry #4 (Zevran speaking)
Ferelden seems to be getting more depressing by the day. Despite my efforts to freshen the aroma of camp through my lighting of scented candles along the tents and blankets, the darkspawn never pass an opportunity to disrupt my artisanship, as we were rudely interrupted one night during an ambush.
"We'd best be on the lookout. Camp isn't safe anymore," Alistair observed, after the attack was over.
"We should put fortifications around the border, not flowers," Sten added curtly.
"Oh, but I beg to differ. Who knows, it may be the distinctively colorful appearance of this place that is helping to drive them off," I replied. "Or maybe the smell of lavender…"
It recently came to my attention that the Wardens have had little to enjoy themselves. Despite our progress so far reaching Orzammar, they appeared to be none the merrier, or even hopeful…now, we couldn't have such downtrodden spirits in an important time like this, could we? If there is anything the Antivans pride themselves in, it's in the excitement of challenges and danger.
I decided to test the waters when Rowan approached me and asked if everything was still intact.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I even helped remove the dead shrieks off your sleeping area," I responded happily. "There was a lot of blood, but I think the candles helped to remove the stench."
"What? Y– you killed them on top of my blanket?!" Rowan stammered.
"No. They just happened to be standing there. I think they are drawn to the smell of the taint. Tsh – tsh, look at the lines around your eyes, you must be exhausted from all this fighting, and imagine the stress!" I suggested with my infamously irresistible smile.
"You are not helping."
"Maybe you should blow off steam, rejuvenate yourself with a massage perhaps. Well, if you so desire, I can offer you some of my special services; someone as upstanding and handsome as the Grey Warden surely does deserve a little help every so often, no?"
"Are you…flattering me?" Rowan asked, raising an eyebrow.
"And why not? It's not often that I meet a skilled, cunning and confident Warden; I hope you are not thinking about it disparagingly, I certainly would be flattered myself."
"I can appreciate that, Zevran. But I think I'll find other ways to amuse myself for now…like hacking this dummy of Howe…" he said meekly while walking towards the makeshift target practice area of the camp.
"No? Aw, that's too bad then. Well, let me know if you change your mind."
I could not blame him, of course. I cannot imagine the confusion and mind-numbing conflicts occupying his mind at present, for their jobs are incomprehensibly vast and many, from killing darkspawn to rallying unwilling allies against this Loghain. What did strike me curious, however, was the subtle change in personality amongst the Wardens – it seemed as if they had slowly abandoned their need for relaxation or fun, as you would expect from normal behavior. Even Alistair appeared grimmer than before. They are stubbornly addicted to the tasks at hand; I imagine the darkspawn feel the same way as well, if not for their complete lack of compassion.
Perhaps the taint was to blame. I do not know if darkspawn feel any "love" towards each other, but perhaps they feel a sort of "kinship" amongst their kind; thank goodness for the existence of such a connection, or I fear the Wardens' lack of patience for even romantic endeavors might compromise their humanity…although I suppose all this gung-ho does make them more manly…Ah, Zevran fantasizes again. But that is enough standing about for now, I feel Wynne's watchful eyes on me again…