As per the usual which started three years ago, whenever I've set a special alarm, I'm awake an hour beforehand. My body has apparently reasoned with itself that losing an hour of sleep is preferable to being snuck up on by the planned tinkling of a glockenspiel playing the gentlest cotton-wool song in existence. Ah well, that's anxiety disorder for you.
Rolling my eyes, I resign myself to being the first of us who's up and moving, disentangling myself from the blanket and tiptoeing into the kitchen.
Given how lightly Zevran sleeps, the sound of just about anything would rouse him. I decide against a cup of tea for that reason, instead nabbing an apple and going out the back door to crunch away on it.
It's a gorgeous morning. Silent, chilly, and bordering on uncomfortably crisp. The stars are still out in the velvety blackness, and I feel like the only person in the world right now, with an entire slumbering planet free for me to enjoy. My grudge against my body for waking me up at such an ungodly hour evaporates.
Naturally, I squander the peaceful, contemplative moment by sitting on the porch step and hoeing into my apple. Taking it outside was the right thing to do; this one is particularly hard, and the noise of my teeth digging in and wedging pieces out with sharp cracks fills up the silence completely. It would have been far too loud to eat inside, and even outdoors, I can't help but wonder if it was the right move.
The sky is like wine and I'm halfway through my snack when I hear footsteps behind me. I turn around and see Zevran strolling over, looking positively squashy in all his layers. I think I can see the collars of at least one button-up shirt and two jumpers.
"Somebody is awake early," he remarks, sitting down on the step beside me. He watches the fog pour out of his mouth and blows another little cloud out.
I chuckle and pass him the apple. "Yes, what are you doing up at this time of the day, anyway?"
He snorts and takes a bite before passing it back to me. "You have me there. We Crows are not inclined to sleep when others are awake."
A pang of guilt pushes an 'agh' out of me before I can stop it. "Sorry, Zev. I thought I'd been quiet enough this time."
"Ah, Van!" He puts on a huge, warm smile. "I can sleep later if need be. You would be surprised how many opportunities for a nap there are on a regular day."
I frown. "I'd rather you got a full night's sleep."
Zevran shrugs. "Life is full of such foibles. I sleep where I can, which is what most of us do, really, is it not?"
Damn, he finds the simplest ways to normalise awful shit. I sigh. "Well, with any luck, that reflex will die off over time and you'll be able to sleep a bit more deeply when I'm up and moving."
"And miss all the fun? Perish the thought." His eyes are twinkling, and he puts a hand on my bare shoulder, withdrawing it quickly with an 'Ah!'
"You are like a block of ice, Van!" he admonishes. Without another word, he turns and hooks his arms under my arms and legs.
"Wh-?" I look around in surprise as my body suddenly ascends into thin air.
"You are frozen stiff," Zevran declares. He straightens up with me against him and marches us toward the house. "It will not do to have a doctor freezing to death. What would the neighbours think?" He winkles the back door open with his foot and steps into the kitchen, lowering me onto a dining chair before flicking the kettle on.
I stare at him in disbelief, not least because we have no neighbours, but before I can say anything, he starts up again.
"And you weigh nothing at all! My dear, I am amazed a light breeze does not send you down the street like a leaf!"
"I-- now wait just a minute--" I protest, which he waves away with a dramatic sweep of the hand.
"Ah, it just will not do! You will need more fruit at breakfast and an extra helping of dinner if we are to get any flesh on you at all!"
"Good lord , what's gotten into you?" I exclaim. "One minute we're sitting and making conversation, and the next I'm being levitated into the kitchen and given a diet regimen!"
He fills two cups with tea and puts one in front of me, smiling wickedly. "I am merely returning the favour of your kind attention, my lovely Van. Surely it is… what is the term I found on the internet… ' neighbourly' to do my part to keep you alive as well?"
My eyes drop into a squint and my mouth makes an 'o'. "Toad man!" I hiss. "At it again with your shitty logic. Well, if you think you've won this, you thought wrong." I glare at my tea and then at him. "... Thank you for my tea… evil toad of a man…"
"Ooh, such a searing look," he croons over the rim of his mug. "Who knew blue eyes could burn so hot?"
I make sure to keep my gaze locked with his as I touch my eyeball, slipping my finger around until I come near the iris.
"It's normal temperature," I say calmly. I lift my finger away, and he backs away just a little.
"That was entirely unnecessary," he utters softly, which makes me grin.
"On the contrary. Look at the effect it's had on you! I bet I've just stopped a week's worth of 'put a coat on' and 'eat this tuber.'"
He lets out a small 'hah'. "Or, upon admitting that, you will make me redouble my efforts?"
I scowl. "Agh. This isn't going as I'd planned at all."
Zevran slides the elbow on the table propping his head up, moving it toward me until it sits quite squarely in my personal space. He gives me a droll, saucy smile and purrs, "So what are you going to do with me then, Van, hmm?"
Always probing, probing, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Who could blame him? I'd be wondering, too, if solid ground felt like eggshells under my feet.
Saddened, I reach a hand out and give his shoulder a little squeeze. The naughty glint in his eyes disappears as his gaze shifts to my hand, and then back to my face.
"In the long term, if you let me, I'm going to get you registered and settled into a good life here," I murmur. "And in the short term, I'm going to ask you to help me get breakfast ready."
A tiny falter comes over him before the rakishness returns. "I am ready to assist, my dear doctor," he assures me, already on his feet.
And he is. While I set the table, he takes some fruit and cuts it into beautiful shapes. He works quickly and carefully, and I suppose I shouldn't be surprised he knows his way around a knife so well, but the guy's just so fast . It's not long before we have a bowl of fruit salad in stars, squares, hearts, flowers, crescents, triangles, all proportional and even, and it looks absolutely lovely. Even the leftover bits and pieces that he mixes in look great.
"Seems a shame to eat these," I say, peering into the bowl. "Maybe we could just dip them in resin and hang them on the wall instead?"
"Ah, but my doctor, what would we have for breakfast then?" he asks through a winsome grin. His tongue darts out to lick away a trickle of melon juice from the corner of his mouth. "No, we must simply resolve ourselves to do it all again the next day!"
I concede with a ginger nod. He's right, after all, but it's such a pity considering the state all food is in upon exiting our bodies. It hardly seems worth the effort.
"Still, it is good to know that it pleases you," he says as he sips at his second cup of tea. "I shall have to do this more often."
"You don't have to," I say quickly. "It's quite time-consuming work--"
" You do not have to keep me here, either, or feed me, or finance me," Zevran cuts over me, the playfully arched eyebrow clashing with the pointedness of his tone. "And yet here we are. Where opportunities to return the favour arise, I should like to take them."
In theory, I'm suitably chastened. In practice, though, my nerves are climbing as a slew of thoughts start up, none of which contain any useful advice on how to proceed with this conversation or how to stop being such a fucking pissbaby. Heart thudding, my shaky hand reflexively reaches up to my hair so my fingers can wind the curls around them. I look away, because naturally, if I can't see Zevran right now, he can't see me.
Genius. Go for a walk before Shadi gets up.
Zevran tsks softly; his chair doesn't make a sound as he pushes it out and rises to his feet. In another motion, his hoodie is unzipped and draped over my shoulders.
"No need for frowning, Van, hmm?" he coaxes. "It is an unflattering expression for such a lovely face, and you will upset the fruit."
The quirky remark drags a snort out of me, and since that was apparently the reaction he was after, he gives my shoulder a little squeeze.
"Come, my dear doctor!" he trills. "We have forgotten to make the toast, and Shadi could be here at any moment. How can we call this breakfast without toast?"
§
When Shadi-- who is still in their pyjamas with their plait in situ-- arrives downstairs to find Zevran and me cackling at the table, the energy in the room is flung into warp drive.
"We're laughing and I need to know why," they inform us as they take their place at the table. Before we get a chance to respond, though, Shadi, now sporting a set of very wide eyes, slowly points a finger at the fruit salad à la Zevran.
"This," they utter reverently. "Who did this?"
"This genius here," I reply, nudging Zevran proudly. He sways a little when my elbow pushes into him, with a modest smile stuck on his face like it's been glued there. "Didn't he do a lovely job?"
"We can't eat this," Shadi murmurs, shaking their head. "'S'too pretty."
I give Zevran another particularly hard nudge, smug as all hell. "See?"
"Ah, but somebody must!" Zevran declares, apparently having found his words again. "I would rather it were us and not the flies."
I've more than learned my lesson from our conversation before. I shrug, take a pineapple star with my fingers, and pop it in my mouth.
"Do as the clever artist says, Shadi," I mumble through my mouthful, waving a finger at the empty bowl in front of them. "Mmm! And it's good fruit, too." I give Zevran The Nod. "We chose well."
Zevran looks pleased. Shadi, with their mouth full of fruit, looks pleased. I feel pleased. In all, it's a most victorious start to the morning.
Forty minutes later, we're piling into my car with me at the wheel, Zevran riding shotgun, and Shadi, despite sitting properly, managing to take up all of the backseat. The sun's out, radio's on, and Shadi found a bag of these ridiculously good chocolate chip cookies that must've escaped the herd when Zevran and I were unloading the groceries a couple of days ago. The day couldn't be off to a better start.
The drive to Luz is a fascinating one that takes us further inland. It's an hour-long trip that seems to showcase just about every different ecosystem around here- except for the desert, though it gets pretty close.
And Zevran's drinking it all in, just about has his face pressed up against the window as we speed through the countryside. I think his favourite bit (by quite a margin, actually) is the colossal sunflower field we drive through when we're approaching the outskirts of the wineries by Luz.
"You should see your face right now," Shadi says to Zevran, smirking at him.
"This is… marvellous," Zevran mumbles at the glass, not taking his eyes off the blazing gold field.
"We should take you for a picnic out here," I suggest, "Get one of those polaroid cameras that take the instant photos so you have some pictures of you with the scenery. Something to decorate your walls. What do you think?"
"Ooh!" Shadi squeaks. "I have one of those, Vannie, remember? We'll get it while we're there. I think it's under my bed…"
Knowing Shadi, who's good on the fang, we will also avail ourselves of a not-insignificant amount of whatever's in the fridge as well, and the picnic will happen today. They're not much for waiting for tentatively-confirmed events, preferring to make it happen as soon as may be.
Once we've passed through the vineyard territory, which gets another set of delighted sounds out of Zevran, we hit the 'burbs. Our stomping ground is on the outskirts of the metropolitan area, and is the kind of place that reminds the neighbouring lower middle-class suburb that the distance between us and them is approximately three paycheques.
The little house Shadi (and I, given how much time I spent there) grew up in sits on the bend of a long cul-de-sac. It's a concrete-cladded, boxy sort of place, and no doubt it was very futuristic-looking when it was built eighty-five years ago. These days it looks like it's slowly being reclaimed by nature, Mom's doing when she allowed ivy to start climbing up the sides of the building, and the fenced-off yard is dotted with olive trees at the perimeter.
We park in the driveway, and a sigh escapes me as I step out of the car. It's good to be home.
A jingle and a soft 'mrrp' announces the presence of the household guardian-cum-welcoming committee. Zevran and I turn in time to see Shadi bend down and pick up the small calico cat that's just trotted over, her tail aloft and quivering excitedly.
"Hello baby," they sing, snuggling the adoring creature under their chin as we walk to the door.
I take the housekey out of my pocket and unlock the door so that Shadi can focus on introductions.
"This is Squeaky," Shadi bends down from their frankly enormous height so that she is eye-level with Zevran. They point at him. "Who's this, baby?"
Zevran looks bemused at the notion of being formally introduced to a cat, a reaction which trebles when said cat gives him a rusty little meow.
Not wanting to miss a moment of this, I stand with my back to the door, groping for the knob as I watch Zevran stick his arms out in time for Squeaky to be deposited into them.
And the cat is instantly wild about him. Her purrs are audible from where I stand, and not even the sound of the door opening (a sign she's about to get fed), can tempt her from his arms. Whether or not it's because she's likely only just been fed is a question I have no interest in entertaining. Not when she's nestling and bonking and making a damned fool of herself in the crook of this astonished Antivan's neck.
"Well, someone's madly in love with you," Shadi remarks, conveniently leaving out that she is this affectionate with just about everyone. I'm glad they do, because the vote of confidence has Zevran grinning hugely .
"My, my," he jokes as she begins to knead his sweater, "it seems I am irresistible wherever I go." He uses the hand that's not supporting her to go and pat her, and as soon as his fingers come near her face, she takes the smallest finger and chews it. The purring is now amplified by a factor of ten with her mouth opened. Zevran snorts and permits it, looking entirely unbothered by the sharp little teeth gnawing away at him.
I regret remembering that we came here for a greater purpose (if possible) than introducing Zevran to Squeaky. We did, though, and since I'm blocking the doorway, I force myself to turn around and step inside so we can get down to business.
Zevran hums in fascination as we go through the open corridor and living/dining room. It's a lively sort of place; the walls are painted a festive jewel-red and adorned with family photographs and some of the better acrylic paintings Baba's done over the years. Carpets hide most of the hardwood floors and, thanks to the extensive plastic coverings, the furniture looks new even though it's about eighteen years old.
"What a splendid house," he murmurs. He slows to a stop by a cluster of photos and pores over them.
Shadi, houseproud to the core like Baba, beams at the compliment. And then, of course, with the inevitable glance toward the kitchen, it begins.
It.
Begins.
"Now Zevran," Shadi says in their Hospitality Voice, "are you hungry?"
They don't wait for an answer. When there's only one correct response ('Absolutely famished'), the question's all but rhetorical.
Zevran turns himself and his armful of cat away from the photos, but by that time I can already hear the refrigerator door being yanked open. and I bite my lip as I watch any attempt at an answer die on his tongue. I give him a meaningful nod, and Zevran returns it.
Shadi reappears a moment later with a plate of lemon chicken legs– Baba's specialty– and wordlessly ushers the four of us the rest of the way to their room. Zevran stops again at the door to Shadi's room and looks at the photo hanging nearby. It was taken the day they brought the sofa home, and the picture our parents snapped of us kids proudly posing with it, though done jokingly at the time, had turned out so nicely it ended up on the wall.
I chuckle. "That was a funny day. Remember, Shadi? Mom and Baba had just bought that sofa, and it took all of us to get it into the living room without scraping the paint off the walls."
Shadi smiles sadly. "It was Mam's idea to take the photo. Stroke of brilliance. Masha'allah, look how cute you are there!"
Zevran looks at me in surprise and then looks back to the picture. "Van, this one here in the orange is you?"
It takes a moment to clock why he's so taken aback, before I realise that the kid in the picture is mid-cackle and gesturing so grandly at the sofa that I could, in that moment, have been the pictorial definition of drug-induced euphoria. In short, not the Van he's lived with. Whether it's for better or worse, I can't tell.
I nod anyway. "Spot on there, Zevvo, and the one in the skirt beside me is Shadi. My sister, Linley, is on the other side here, next to my brother Timothy, and on Tim's other side is Shadi's brother Moustafa."
His eyebrows rise. "Mm! I never would have guessed you both have siblings. I had the impression you were only children."
Well. Naturally, it's unpleasant to hear that, but I never did specifically mention them, so it's hardly a wonder Zevran said it. Shadi, however, gasps like they've taken a knife to the gut. They wrench their eyes shut and look away, and if I were any less sore, I'd probably be laughing off Zev's ridiculous faux pas.
Instead, I kiss my teeth and shrug, because I don't have anything better to do.
And as Zevran chuckles nervously and says, "Ah. It would appear I have put my foot into my mouth. I do that from time to time, no?" I realise that I do, in fact, have something better to do.
I clear my throat. "Right. About that… they, uh… died." I clap Zevran's shoulder, and it tenses infinitesimally under my hand. "Ah, don't worry about it, Zev. They're not getting any deader at this rate."
His shoulder tenses again as Shadi's tongue clucks in hard disapproval at my little joke. Somehow I gather the gall to look Shadi in their watery eyes anyway in an attempt to apologise- after all, at 95% I'm still, by a technicality, not a complete monster.
Before I can say anything, Shadi pushes the plate of chicken legs into my hands. "I forgot the tea," they declare. "I'll bring us some."
Squeaky sees Shadi leaving and rolls out of Zevran's arms, cantering after them as they go back the way we came.
I open the door to Shadi's room and take Zevran inside with me, and his eyes are trained on me the whole time.
"Forgive me Van," he says quickly. "I truly do not remember you mentioning them. Perhaps there were pictures on the walls in your house, but I missed them."
'Your house' stings unexpectedly. I swallow back the tiny but growing lump in my throat, setting the chicken legs down on Shadi's desk..
"Our house," I mumble. "I probably didn't mention them, and I know there's no pictures of them on the walls." I shrug. "They died just after I moved to Camphor Bay. They were going to move in with me but never ended up making it out. Anyway, do me a favour and keep the questions about siblings for times when Shadi's not around, at least until they bring them up first."
Zevran nods quickly. "Of course."
I chuckle hollowly and pat his shoulder– still stiff as a board. "Not your fault, Zevvo, you didn't know. Truly, don't worry about it. I'm not upset with you, and neither is Shadi. You know how grief is, yourself. Sometimes it hurts, we react, and it passes."
His eyes meet mine with some difficulty, and he appears to summon substantial effort to give me a nod.
I get a stab of guilt for digging up his own grief to try and get the point across, and I smile apologetically.
"Hey, look," I try, "just so you know, it's a custom around here to offer someone a hug if they look like they could use some comfort, so, ah…"
"A... what, sorry?"
Oh, death. I embrace the air in front of me demonstratively. "Put your arms around a person, when they're feeling… well, anything, really. There's no necessary occasion for it. You don't have to if you don't want, but what I meant is you can always get one off me if you do."
"Hm-hmm!" He waggles his eyebrows with neither conviction nor vigour. "So you have come around to the idea of my body pressed up against yours, eh, my luscious doctor? My luck is endless!"
I shouldn't be as relieved as I am that the conversation has come to that sort of a close, not when Zevran's worrisome sexy deflection was what cut it off. I roll my eyes, playful but exhausted.
My attempt at my own deflection is cut off as Shadi calls for me from the kitchen to 'help carry the tea out.' They want nothing of the sort from me; the Zegna household has a lovely engraved tea tray in gold, and its carrying capacity sits at about fourteen cups.
I announce that I'm coming and turn to Zev with a megawatt smile affixed to my features.
"Help yourself to the chicken, Zevvo, while I help with the drinks service," I say sweetly. "If I'm not back in five minutes, don't come looking for me. Shadi will almost certainly be tearing me a new arsehole, and they'd hate for you to see them in a bad mood."
With a chortle that's rather more grim than the one Zevran gives, I'm away, strolling into the kitchen where Shadi is standing beside three glasses of tea and staring daggers at me through leaky eyes. Arms folded, head shaking… if there isn't an 'Astaghfirullah' coming my way, I'll eat my hat.
Shadi flicks a hand in the direction of their room. "'Not getting any deader.' What the fuck's wrong with you, making jokes like that?"
"Would you like the answer in list format, or do you prefer interpretive dance?"
"Jesus, Van, why are you joking about all this? You didn't even mention them to Zevran, even in passing? He's been living with you for two weeks!"
"You're right," I shrug irritably, my patience already waning. "There've been so many opportunities to casually drop over dinner that half the family's dead, and I've pissed them straight up the wall, thirteen days in a row."
"Van!" Shadi angrily wipes under their eyes with their wrist. "You know what? I don't even care about the damn joke any more. Are Tim and Linney and Safsaf really so out of your awareness now that there's no occasion to tell a single story about one of them? For two weeks? Nothing reminds you of them?"
"Didi…" I say warningly.
"It's one thing not to have told him that they died, but you didn't even mention they'd lived!" Their voice cracks a little at the end. "This isn't coping, Vannie. You can't just pretend they were never here!"
"I'm not under the illusion that this is a healthy coping mechanism, Shadi," I snap. "But it's the one that's available right now."
"Then get out of your isolation chamber and move in here with us!" They take my hands and squeeze them. "Enough of this brave-faced, sticking-it-out-on-your-own bullshit. Come on habibti, you and Zevran. Mom and Baba would love him, we'll have a great time! It doesn't have to be this way."
I shake my head hard. "And leave everyone in Camphor Bay in the lurch? Logistically, morally, and legally impossible. Besides, you were all supposed to join me over there."
Shadi clucks their tongue remorsefully. "We didn't forget, baby. You know that. Baba still can't leave Safsaf's room alone."
"Mmm, well, we're at an impasse now, aren't we, my love?" I shrug with a wry smile. "Just have to agree to disagree for now. Tell you what, though: I'll refrain from making jokes about the topic around any and all loved ones and surviving relatives. What do you think?"
"Huh. That's your best offer?" They raise an eyebrow at me.
I put my hands on my hips. "Take it or leave it."
Shadi rolls their eyes and pulls me into a hug. "Ugh, fine. But don't think this conversation is over, because it's not, by a long shot."
"No," I sigh and wrap my arms around them. "My luck couldn't be that good, could it…"
They laugh, tell me to shut up, and release me.
I gesture at the fridge. "How's the picnic supplies looking?"
"There's enough for a picnic and for Mom and Baba's dinner. God knows we'd be helping them by cleaning the fridge out a bit. You know what Gina and Rob's parties are like… they'll be sent home from that party with enough leftovers to sink a ship." Shadi shakes their head, miraculously oblivious to the fact that they are precisely the same as Gina and bloody Rob when preparing food.
With an 'ah' as I think of the pair in question and their frankly orgasmic tartufi, I nod.
"Right. Well, pass me the tea and we'll make our re-entry as expectedly and normally as possible"
Shadi gives me a withering look. "Oh, please. You didn't close the door behind you as you left, and my room is ten paces from the kitchen. The only way Zevran didn't hear anything is if he stopped his ears and screamed."
"Fair point, there." I raise my voice, "ZEVVO-O-O! We're coming back in there now, so get ready to pretend the mood's perfect!"
They groan. "God you're a shit, Van."
I'd be a fool to deny that, so I don't. "Wash the snot off your face, Didi. I'll see you in your room."
With two teas in hand, I saunter off to their quarters. Inside, Zevran is sitting cross-legged on the floor with the cat, rubbing Her Majesty's belly with due reverence. He looks up from his noble task and gives me an absurdly blithe smile. The chicken legs are untouched.
I pass Zevran his tea by way of a greeting and join him in worshipping the vibrating feline.
"You probably heard the plans," I say, picking up one of the legs and tearing a hunk off it. "The sun's nice and warm today, and my car has a picnic basket in case of the sudden need to enjoy eating outdoors. What do you say?" I hold out the leg to Zevran. "Wannit? S'nice. Lemon."
He takes a smaller, daintier bite and nods, stroking Squeaky under the chin with a long finger as he does. It almost looks like she's grinning as she juts her jaw out and rolls her head into the palm of his hand.
"Just think, today is a day of firsts!" I enthuse, taking a leaf out of Zevran's own book of distraction policy. "Your first road trip, first picnic in the sunflower field, and you're getting your first picture taken!"
"Ah, yes!" He's on that topic change like a duck on a june bug. "How long does it take, these pictures? Normally, it takes months, years for a painting to be completed, but the details! The pictures on screens change so quickly, but on paper, surely that must take time."
I shake my head. "A minute, at the most, with these polaroid photos. Not instant like it advertises, but still very quick. You'll see the colours come up on the paper in real time."
His eyes are huge. "So quickly?"
"Mm-hmm. And Shadi knows their way around a camera. I think you'll be quite pleased with how you look on photo paper."
He gives a low, whisky-warm chuckle. "If my reflection in the mirror is anything to go by, I imagine I will."
"Ah, you say that, but you don't know how easy it is to take a bad picture of someone."
Zevran's mouth curves up in a sultry smile. "Even someone as beautiful as me?"
I laugh. "Even people as beautiful as you and me and Shadi combined. Photographs show what the camera sees, and cameras don't see the way our eyes do."
I pull out my phone with my chickenless hand and scroll through my photos, looking for the exceptionally awful one I took of myself and Shadi a few weeks ago when the clinic was empty and we were horsing around. Shadi's angled their mouth in a way that makes it look like their upper lip is obscuring their lower lip and half their chin so that they resemble a freakishly happy toad, and I managed to lose all the angles in my face and look like a thumb.
When Zevran sees the picture, he lets out a hoot of laughter. "Ooh, Van! I did not believe you, and I have been rightly shamed for my lack of faith." He takes another glance and claps a hand over his mouth to muffle a snort.
At that moment, Shadi walks in with the remaining tea, quirking a brow at us.
"Zevran didn't believe in bad photos," I said simply as I hold up the phone for Shadi to see the picture we'd spent a good hour crylaughing over when it was first taken.
They look dramatically aggrieved, setting the teaglass down and slapping a hand to their forehead. "You had to show him that one."
I nod. "Yeah. I think I'm going to print it out so he can frame it and put it on his wall."
Shadi gives a scoff, waving my obnoxious remark away as they march over to their huge bed, drop to their knees, and proceed to rummage underneath it.
"I think I packed the laptop in this box here…" they rumble under their breath as they drag a huge plastic case out and scan it.
"Shadi's an organisation genius," I whisper to Zevran, and he can see what I mean as I gesture around the room: everything has its proper place in Shadi's domain, from the half-gallery of awards sitting neatly in one corner of the room; a bookcase that is a microcosm of a library with its Universal Decimal Classification system arrangement; their guitar and electronic piano nestled in another corner, and there's even space for a wardrobe and vanity, where their makeup and beauty products are neatly arranged in an order only a genius could remember.
"When you live with someone as chaotic as my mom, or like this one here," they pause from rummaging in their second case to jerk a thumb over their shoulder at me, "an organised mind is a means of survival."
Zevran bites his lip as he catches me scowling and rolling my eyes at Shadi's back.
"My room is as organised as yours," I snip.
"Your room is empty!" they oh-so-helpfully remind me before they let out a triumphant cry. "A-ha! Found it!"
They carefully lift up all the gear and pull out a dark-blue laptop. The machine must be well over fifty years old now, but after a few minutes plugged in and charging, it starts up like new.
Zevran and I flank Shadi on either side as we sit on the floor in front of the bed, watching them log in and fire up the game.
"It should be completely fine," they tell us as the loading screen comes up, "but you remember, Vannie, the way Origins used to unexpectedly crash every now and then?"
I groan and nod. " That was annoying as shit."
"Yeah. You're gonna have to just make frequent saves as you play through."
The prologue starts up, and Zevran is rapt as a verse from the Canticle of Threnodies appears and Duncan's voice comes through the speakers, weaving the backdrop of the Blights and the plight of the Grey Wardens in stopping it. He stares at it so intently it's like he's trying to memorise every bit of it as it goes, and I make a mental note to remind him that he can rewatch these things at any time.
When Duncan's monologue fades and the main menu comes up, we sit there in silence for a short while. Zevran slowly emerges from his speechlessness to point a finger at the screen.
"New game?" he reads the line aloud. "This is a game?"
"We once thought it was," Shadi nods before clarifying, "Well, we didn't. The portals have been working since long before me and Vannie were born, but back then, yeah. A game or a movie or a book, they were just stories to people."
"I suppose my people have thought of this in the same way," Zevran accepts. "I myself did not know until I came here. Still, it is strange to see Thedas presented in such a way."
"I can imagine," I say, and Shadi nods with me.
They close the game and switch off the laptop. "We should go for now, but once we get home, I'll set it up so you can examine it to your heart's content. That okay?"
Zevran nods quickly and rises to his feet, and we follow shortly after. Another quick rummage through the old technology box ensues, upon which Shadi produces a slightly dusty polaroid camera and a packet of ten photo papers. While Zevran inspects the camera with fascination, Shadi and I quickly pack some food for our brunch picnic, and when we've got what we need, we bid a fond farewell to the cat.
"Ah, little Squeaky, it has been a delight to meet you!" Zevran says warmly, extending a hand for her to bonk her head against.
"You'll see more of her, don't worry," Shadi says with a laugh. "You need to meet Mom and Baba yet."
I grin and nod in agreement. "They're going to love you. And feed you. Possibly not in that order, but we'll see."
A bemused smile comes to Zevran as Shadi adds, "Especially on the holidays, my god!" They shrink down to Zevran's height and put on a very convincing impression of Mom as they look at Zevran dolorously.
"Zev-rawn," they lament in a nasal voice, gesturing at him with both hands, "My gawd, you're so thin! Here, get another calzone on your plate. How'ya get outta bed every day when there's nothin' on ya?"
I'm wheezing at this point; Shadi's impersonations of family members always verge on the uncanny, and Zevran is chewing on his lip quite forcefully as well. Looking satisfied, Shadi straightens up again.
"Just so you're forewarned," they say. "Right! Get in the car! Picnic time!"
The laptop's stashed away under the front passenger seat, and we're sitting fairly close to the vehicle as we spread out on the picnic blanket, nibbling away on leftover green bean and asparagus salad, kofta, and aish baladi, washing it down with some pineapple juice Shadi found in the fridge. The mid-morning sun is gentle at this time of the day, the ground still cool underneath. Zevran's got my sunglasses on, looking an absolute treat in them, and Shadi pauses now and then to line up the camera to see Zevran at various angles. When they find a satisfactory one, they announce he's getting photographed, and Zevran puts on his most come-hither smile for the camera, every bit a show-off with not one iota of hubris.
The first photo prints out, and Shadi hands it straight to Zevran, who holds it like it's an injured butterfly. He watches in awe as the brown is washed away by the colours filtering up to the surface.
I look over his shoulder, and the photo's turned out fantastic. He's posing with an almost feline grace, the sunglasses a ways down his nose to let his eyes do the talking. Everything in his body is coordinated and held just so; he'd make a terrific model, all things considered.
"Damn!" I say before looking up at Shadi and beckoning them over. "That turned out really well! Come take a look."
They shuffle across the blanket and end up behind the two of us.
"You are most talented, Shadi," Zevran says over his shoulder through a grin. "I like this picture very much."
"I had a great model to work with," Shadi replies modestly. They nudge me. "Doesn't he look fantastic?"
Zevran looks over at me as I nod in agreement. It's a little awkward that this happens, when he is not-infrequently trying to win favour with offers of sexual forays. I hastily assemble an elaboration that doesn't remark on his appearance- or rather, the allure he's trying to capitalise on.
"Definitely," I smile. "You're not shy, you hold yourself beautifully… the camera loves you, Zev, no doubt about it."
His eyes crinkle a little at the sides.
"Of course, the photo is yours to keep, and these other ones will be, too," Shadi adds. "Lemme take a couple more pictures? We can get more photo paper easy enough."
Zevran readily agrees to the impromptu photoshoot, and thirty-five minutes pass as Shadi captures what they dub 'the various moods of Zevran.' Zevran in the sunflowers (there are several of those), Zevran on the picnic blanket, Zevran sitting winsomely on the bonnet of the car like a 1900s pinup model, my god.
When they return to the blanket, where I've been packing the dirty dishes away, I'm proudly presented with a tiny portfolio. I make a show of perusing the photos, passing on my compliments to both the model and photographer with each one, and by the end of it, I'm flanked by two individuals whose egos are so big they'll have to be strapped to the roof racks as we drive home.
"Hey, there's one more photo left on this thing," Shadi points out to Zevran. "What do you want to do for it?"
Nice of them to remember that Zevran might like to decide on the subject of the photographs, even if it was only for the last one. Shadi does get a little bossy when they get excited these days, bless their cotton socks, and Zevran is gracious enough to roll with it.
He seems not to know what to do with this newfound decision-making power, though, and he umms and ahhs for a solid ten seconds. When he does get his words together, however…
"I am in the company of two great beauties," he declares with a sweeping gesture at Shadi and me. "The camera would be very pleased to acquaint itself with you, I am sure."
Shadi laughs richly. "Oh, honey, the camera knows me very well already. Van'll tell you, too, since she's the one taking the photos."
Oh, the hours I've spent hunched over and squatting and at all sorts of dreadful angles just to snap Shadi. I'm lucky I haven't dislocated anything yet. That sort of forbearance must make me eligible for the Best Friend of the Year Award.
I raise my eyebrows. "Oh? Am I called upon to assume an unsustainable position to capture the two of you?"
Shadi tsks at my offer. "You know Zevran means he wants you on the other side of the camera, you obtuse little shit."
I look at Zevran. "You'll have to have your personal space invaded if we're all going to fit in the picture. The frame's pretty small."
I'm not sure if I'm surprised or not when he readily consents, but either way, the camera is loaded and I'm sandwiched between Zevran and Shadi, the latter of whom is using their enormously long arm to take the picture.
"Smile like you're happy," is the instruction Shadi gives before clicking the shutter, and a minute later, we have a small photo of us. Shadi, with their dazzling grin and huge brown eyes, dominates the top of the picture. I'm in the middle with my lopsided smile, looking as foolish and disorganised as ever, but am, at least, recognisable by virtue of my consistency. And Zevran, he's oozing confidence and charm with his closed-mouth smile, eyeing the camera from the lower third with calm, wicked delight.
Zevran looks up from the picture at the two of us and grins. "There, you see?" He gestures with an open hand at the picture. "I am surrounded by friends of the camera."
"Hah, that would be a cool name for a secret club," I think aloud. I laugh at my own silly remark, but Zevran and Shadi appear to have taken it to heart, sharing quite a meaningful glance at each other before turning to me.
"You're a genius, Van," Shadi murmurs.
I laugh again. "I missed that ranking by about seven points. But hey, a club's a club. So the first meeting of the Friends of the Camera is in session, I take it?"
Zevran and Shadi both flick their eyebrows at me by way of an affirmative, and the way they are so in sync makes me afraid to leave them on their own lest the mischief increase exponentially when their powers fully combine.
I shift uneasily as these two wild-eyed individuals feed off each other's energy, their smiles broadening as they edge towards me.
"Right, come on, we've used up all the paper and eaten all the food," I declare. "Into the car with you both."
Rather than having the decency to look even vaguely harangued back into good behaviour, they both shoot me a smug smile and rise to their feet, Zevran taking the picnic basket and Shadi holding the camera, and they swagger away to the car.
"Fuck me backwards with a frypan," I mutter to myself, shaking out the picnic rug and folding it as I trudge after them. So now Hurricane Shadi has a playmate: Cyclone Zevran. I know I wanted Zevran to have a friend, but talk about being careful what you wish for.
Back in the car, we make our way to the social security office that sits on the outskirts of Camphor Bay. It shouldn't be there, given that it's supposed to cater to both our own 2000-person strong populace and the 75-and-some thousand living in Luz. There are far more people in need of social services based in Luz who have to travel an hour by car to get to the place, and it shits me off that even though placing it there was the decision of a long-gone government who had it out for poor people, successive governments haven't done anything further about it. Somehow, since the portals came through, a lot has changed and very little has changed, all at once.
When we get to the small red-brick office block where social services is situated, I leave Zevran and Shadi in the parked car while I duck in.
I'm there at a time of the day when nobody else comes in, which is most convenient for me. The public servant at the front desk, Anita, gives me a smile and a wave, because A: she's nice; B: she's my patient (of course she is); and C: everybody knows everyone here.
"Well, well!" she says through a warm smile; I note that her voice is a little raspy but keep it to myself. "Fancy seeing you here, Vannie! What's goin' on?"
"I knew you were missing me," I croon, making a show of putting my hands behind my back and giving her a ridiculous grin.
"Ahhh," she presses her hands up against her cheeks, eyelashes a-flutter, and sways like a condemned house. "You read my mind. Now, lemme see if I can read yours…" Anita straightens up, adjusts her large bifocals and squints at my forehead. "You're lookin' for information about the new rainwater tank subsidy?"
Oh? This was news to me, but very welcome news indeed. The droughts can get painful, and while water-saving technologies for families and households are subsidised and provided to within an inch of their lives, water- collecting initiatives have still been very thin on the ground. Until now, apparently.
I hum with interest. "I am now."
"Mmm, but it's not why you came today, apart from visiting little old me, of course?" Anita touches a hand to her chest.
"Ah, look, I've got ongoing professional education I have to do each year. A hundred hours' worth, thereabouts. Doctors are getting more and more of a role in filling out the forms, so I wanna get some background reading done on the procedures and the like, 'cause my patients are asking me for all kinds of information."
" Ah," Anita nods. "Don't worry, honey bunny, I've got you." She excuses herself for a minute and returns with a dossier the size of an encyclopaedia, and even though she's careful in how she places it on the desk, it still makes a bowel-evacuatingly loud report as it lands.
A laugh comes from her as she catches me eyeing this absolute megalith of a book, and she pats it.
"This is our training manual. Has everything on what's available, who decides, how it's done-- more information on this shit than you could want in a lifetime. We got a few extra lyin' around, so you can just take this and keep it."
"I'll mount it on the wall," I murmur, hefting the thing and holding it close to my body like it's an oversized child. "Thanks, Anita. I think."
Anita laughs again, takes another pamphlet from beside her computer, and slips it between the pages of the training manual like it's a bookmark.
"And that's for the rainwater tank." She winks at me. "Happy reading. Oh, and uh, hey."
"Mmm?"
"Got anything free at the clinic tomorrow or the day after?"
"For you? Always. How's tomorrow in the afternoon just before we close? Give you time to walk the dogs."
Anita beams and gives my arm a squeeze. "Ya know me too well, sweet girl. I'll see you tomorrow, then."
"Will do. Thanks for your help today, Anita, I appreciate it." I smile gratefully.
"Likewise, Vannie."
When I get back to the car, I open the back door with a flourish and triumphantly drop the book into the empty middle seat beside Shadi.
"My god, Van, what the fuck!" they exclaim as the huge thing bounces sideways and lands in their lap with a thud. "I didn't have this much reading for linguistics!"
"Me neither," I say with a shrug.
"You didn't do linguistics!"
"Exactly." I close the door and get into the driver's seat, and we're on our way home in a flash.
"So, this manuscript will contain all the answers to everything we could possibly wonder about life here, yes?" Zevran enquires. He peers over his shoulder at the astonished Shadi, who's already flipping through the book.
"Keep your head facing forward when we're moving, Zevvo, please, otherwise you'll break your neck if we're caught in a car accident," I remind him gently, and he almost snaps into the correct position. "Regarding getting you registered here, I would certainly presume so." I glance into the rear view mirror. "Finding anything useful in there, Shadi?"
Shadi's only answer is a distracted mumble, and Zevran and I share a shrug; it speaks for itself, really.