Truthfully, I did not expect to find myself in such a wonderful and interesting predicament. Then again, I had also not expected to fail my mission; ah well, luck seemed to be a mischievous and cruel vixen as it were lately. What a sweet poison she has given me.
To be in the company of not only a beautiful woman, but a powerful mage was both interesting and problematic. True, I could just as easily get the job done and return to this Loghain fellow for the other half of my payment, but that still left the issue of the Crows out for my blood. That was a problem best contemplated over time. For now, I would stay with the icy mage-woman and her strange companions. I was not terribly keen on returning to my dingy bed at the brothel in Antiva, though the company was quite sweet.
To my best interest, I would remain at this Grey Warden's side. For now.
At the present, I was not doing a very good job at keeping my promise. She had somehow vanished without my notice - a peculiar thing, usually I noticed everyone who came and went within my eyesight. It was an unconscious trait I had picked up and habitually practiced. The other young mage, just as icy if not less indulgent than my spicy elven captor, remained in the same spot I'd adjusted out of the corner of my eye as of a half-hour ago.
For being such a strange group, they worked together surprisingly well. My intuition told me the tall, grey brute named Sten was trusted more by Isthalla than the others. She confided in the proud animal when no one was looking - or at least assumed they were not. I already saw an exploitable weakness beneath her prickly exterior, and what a pleasure it would be to explore that soft skin.
I made no quick move to stand. The others were more than aware of my presence, and made sure to send me their angriest glare whenever they had the chance. As I stood, the blond human who had seemed less than interested in bringing me along was nearly out of his seat when the kindly old mage pulled him back down and murmured something to him. Good boy. He listens to his masters.
I offered a wide and charming smile to the woman across the camp - my thanks - before turning to stroll off in the general direction I sensed the mage had gone. I'd grown considerably talented at such a feat, and even if my initial gut reaction was wrong, I always got it right by the third time.
As I expected, I had hardly cleared the thin cropping of trees into the open when I noticed her standing in front of the lake. The trees had given way to a wide open berth of shallow valley, and in the center stood a glassy lake illuminated by a burning hot sun overhead. Late afternoon. However, despite the beautiful scenery I could not help but find myself enamored by the actions of the Warden herself.
Though she was practicing, from the perspective of an observer it looked more of an elaborate dance than spell targeting. Her boots had been removed, as had her garters and leggings. She stepped light as a feather across the ground, soundless, before swinging out into a wide arc and dipping low. I could hear the soft, repetitive melody of incantation as she rose to her feet, graceful as a swan, and rose both arms fluidly above her head.
With each movement came intent, and with that I witnessed small sparks and a brief but beautiful glow of light erupt from her fingers with each gesture. I had heard of this once before - each mage reacted differently, though this was hardly the image of the convulsing, twitching mage-man I'd seen in the Free Marches. She was meditating; subconsciously practicing with her powers. A beautiful sight, indeed, to see something so very intimate yet graceful in the hands of such a lovely creature.
My admiration was interrupted when she clearly took notice of my presence and swung a jagged and hard right, deliberately shooting a spark of magic in my direction. She had meant no damage and carelessly flung it to my left as a warning. She knew I could not outrun or dodge anything she had to throw at me. Despite the fantastic skills of their elderly healer, I would have to take it easy on my leg for quite a few weeks. A bit aggravating, really, but if it was to be spent in the company of this woman, perhaps it wasn't so bad.
"So is this how you greet every stranger who sneaks up on you?" I noted cheerfully while studying the spot where her attack had hit. It singed the grass and earth, leaving nothing but a charred, black mark behind. I ticked a brow and turned back to her with a smile, limping forward. Her hands raised in defense, but she said nothing as I approached within a few feet of her.
"Or am I simply an exception by rule of my sinfully charming demeanor?" I added with another charming glance in her direction. She seemed unimpressed, much different than the slightly bewildered yet fantasized woman I'd met on the field. Fighting and action seemed to charge her emotions; when alone, and in control, I was forbidden to see that breathless and beautiful display of genuine fire she flaunted so ardently in battle.
Uncaused by my light attempts at conversation, she shot another bolt of magic at me, this time just inches from my foot. I winced a bit, but did not move from my spot. A dry and impatient smile stretched across my lips.
"I should like to declare a treaty," I offered. She had been busy attempting to walk away, and shot a vicious but curious glare over her shoulder. Good, she at least had the patience to listen to reason. I waited until she had returned to me, and stood but a foot from my face. Though I imagine she did this for the purpose of intimidation, I couldn't help but notice her eyes were a lovely shade of amber, and her lips painted as red as a winter rose.
"You don't exactly have any room to bargain, elf," she shot back, pointing an assured finger into my chest. I grinned.
"You mistake me, Warden," I answered kindly. "I simply wish to propose a pact to ensure both your safety as well as mine." She perked, a new light in her eyes, and stepped back.
"So you do fear mortality, then?" she asked in a genuinely surprised voice. Clearly she had contemplated this; the thought amused me. Had my valiant and courteous introduction thrown her off? Was she so readily used to being combated both on field and in conversation? A truly interesting thought.
"But of course," I shrugged while hobbling around her to make my way over to a comfortable looking tree. "What man does not wish to stay alive to enjoy the finest wine and beautiful company offered? I would miss it." She grew quiet, tenderly following me over to the tree. Though I struggled to sit down, she did not help me. When I finally settled down into a comfortable spot, I bore her a dry smile and said nothing. Clearly silence unnerved her, for it was only a few seconds before she broke back into the conversation with ready force.
"You know, I still haven't decided if you shall live, assassin-" she said with biting diction. Such a saucy little mage, wasn't she? Oh, what a feat it would be to bed such a fierce woman. I entertained my imagination with the challenge while drinking in her lovely features.
Her legs were bare and moon-white, like the rest of her lovely skin, and hips supple and shapely. Wild hair fanned out like fire from an equally lovely face decorated by flame-like red tattoos, suiting her much-vibrant personality to an image of untamed power. And carefully held within the cradle of a low-hanging neckline shown an attractive, apple-sized bosom. She caught my wandering gaze and suddenly grew silent - it was at that point I realized she had continued talking, and I had forgotten - and her ears dropped on her head. I suddenly shifted to the new knowledge that she was embarrassed, and an unmistakable blush creeping up her neck. Only seconds after they faltered, her unusually tall elven ears stood erect once more, the embarrassment vanished. What a humorous quirk!
"Were you listening to me?" she asked, though the bite had left her voice. She seemed quite self-conscious now.
"How could I forget, my Warden?" I slurred very lazily and quite seductively in her direction. She caught my half-lidded gaze and fell quiet. I half-expected her ears to drop again, but they never did. Curious to imagine that was a rare occurrence, and from what emotional reaction, I wondered? I'd never seen such an odd yet interesting phenomena in the elven ears.
Unable to keep up her visage of anger, she turned to storm away in baseless frustration. As a last remark, she threw it quite casually over her shoulder, though intended it as being the final word in our supposed "argument". She was not accustomed to regular conversation, at least not with myself.
"And don't call me your Warden-" was her final, cutting remark. I saw it as an opportunity, rather than a shut-off. I settled more into my seat, crossing my arms behind my head, before smiling and shutting my eyes.
"Are you opposed to such flattery?" I posed the question harmlessly after her. As expected, a few more indignant paces forward and she paused, one foot still half-raised, and turned back to me. I saw the hesitancy grip her mouth again, then hide under a taut-formed frown.
"Just don't call me that, assassin," she finally responded, more forcefully than necessary. I had hit a nerve, though I wasn't sure why. "I have a name," she added. I smiled wide in genuine surprise, amused by how easily this woman got her feathers ruffled by such neutral tone. She didn't know how to react.
"As do I, Warden," I answered coolly. This truly did stun her. I almost believed another blush was creeping up her neck when she stormed forward again, crossed her arms, and frowned down at me. She seemed a bit frustrated.
"So, what is it, then?" she demanded after a hesitant pause. So she had forgotten.
Oh, you clever little elven minx. Didn't want to admit it, did you?
I wanted to laugh, but kept it to myself. She would only sour more if I were to laugh at her expense. She seemed far too proud to forgive someone for laughing at her lack of knowledge, which I imagined was far more expanded than most of my known kin. She wasn't very much like the others. Instead, I opted to allow her to admit her mistake on her own.
"This I have already told you," I said quite calmly while opening my eyes to observe her. I decidedly pulled a small dagger from my belt and began to play with the blade in my lap. She seemed quite unsettled by this, so after a few more twirls I tucked it back into my belt and held up my hands.
When she said nothing, I cleared my throat and held out my hand in dramatic gesture. "Zevran Arainea, at your kinky service, my Warden-" I bowed as much as I could while sitting down, then propped my hands behind my head once more. I breathed a deep sigh.
"Now then-" I gestured for her to sit down, and after a bristling moment of hesitation, she did. Cross-legged and unsure, she decided on a spot adjacent to me with her hands tucked consciously around her ankles. I glanced at her. "Might you grant me the pleasure of your name, my Warden?" I tried, hoping she would take my invitation. To my surprise, she did.
"Uh, Isthalla-" she admitted, then paused on her words, thoughtfully chewing on her tongue to think about her diction. I had yet to see such a deliberately nervous and unsure side of this fiery woman. I had to say it was quite appealing.
"Mmm," I purred, "Isthalla…" The words slipped out of my mouth like a lover's kiss. A sweet, melodic sound. I liked the taste. "Rolls off the tongue," I added, the pleasure sinking into my voice.
She was continually moving her hands to cover things - her ankles, her bare arms, her chest. I had yet to see her act such a way around the others in camp, even the blond fighter named Alistair. I wondered if perhaps she was not used to such admiring company. I wished to know more.
"I never noticed," she finally said, clearly aware of my enjoyment. I desperately wished now to see what a lovely woman like herself looked like truly relaxed. Perhaps sprawled across the grass, or resting her tangle of night hair across my lap while I stroked her locks. I imagined quite a many ways where her lovely body would rest, and ways to remove such a troubled and guarded expression from her face. Scowling was not bred for a face like hers.
"Antivan?" I asked after a too-long pause. I'd become wrapped up in the warm afternoon breeze. The sound of the rustling leaves comforted me, and brought me peace. I did not often find such isolation and solitude in my handsome but noisy Antiva.
"Hm?" she perked. Clearly, she had been wrapped up in her own world, eyes roaming across the lake. There was a peculiar look in her eyes when she stared too long at the water, then quickly turned them to the distant mountains.
"Your name, I mean," I corrected myself. "I have come to find that such lovely names are often rooted in my Antiva," I nodded proudly. She blinked in surprise, and shrugged. Her guard was finally slipping.
"I-I don't know," she said indifferently. Her hand was back on her bare arm, rubbing it out of some unconscious need to cover herself. She really shouldn't. It would be such a shame.
"Well," I said, sitting up with a grunt. She was a bit disturbed by my abrupt movement, and pulled her knees back to her chest. "It is a lovely name, nonetheless…" I smiled and winked at her before working to stand. She helped me this time.
"Thanks, I suppose," she mumbled when I began to walk forward. I smirked over my shoulder at her, beginning my trek back to the camp.
"I should like to have more conversations with you in the future," I said. I was being genuine when I said it; perhaps it was the eagerness or cheeriness, but by the look on her face I thought she might have believed me. I could have imagined a small smile slipped briefly onto her lips as she turned away.
"Don't press your luck, Zevran," she yelled after me without turning back around. I chuckled as I entered under the cover of the forest and back towards my tent.
Ah, but you have called me by my name, pretty minx.
That is all I wanted to hear.