Miss M (fuzzyspacekitty) wrote in fortevoce, @ 2010-05-18 23:57:00 |
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Entry tags: | morrigan, zevran |
Morrigan/Zevran
Touch: Morrigan and Zevran
Zevran woke up stiff, but in considerably less pain than he remembered being in before. He was confused when he realized he was lying on the kitchen table and Morrigan was sitting on his counter, but confusion had never slowed him down before. "The kitchen table? I always knew you were the kinky type, Morrigan."
The witch rolled her eyes, suddenly seeming far more interested in her fingernails than him. "Oh, you're awake," she said, her tone flat. "Goody.”
"I see you could not wait to get me to the bedroom to ravage me. I understand, of course." The trouble was, he really didn't. If he had woken up to see Wynne, he would have thought nothing of it. He didn't realize that Morrigan even knew where his house was, let alone what she was doing here.
Reading the confusion in his face, Morrigan explained, in her own, special way. "The old bat isn't the only healer around here, you know. One can't travel with a party as inept as you lot without picking up a few healing spells on the way."
"I cannot help but notice I am half-naked. Maybe you did more than heal, no?" Zevran delighted in that little flash of anger in her eyes when he annoyed her so. That was one downside of the electronic media they used to tease each other these days.
"You're always half-naked," Morrigan pointed out, her lips pursed in annoyance.
"Ah, yes. What I meant was you could not help but notice I am half-naked. Perhaps there was more touching than is strictly necessary, yes? You are only human, after all... You are human, aren't you?"
"I think I liked you better when you were unconscious.” As much as she hated to admit it, Morrigan was glad to see he was all right. He had been in pretty bad shape, and Morrigan hadn't been entirely confident that she could put him back in one piece. She had actually been worried about him... It was entirely ridiculous.
"Ah! So naughty," Zevran chuckled, sitting up slowly. Wynne’s healings were much smoother, but Zevran knew better than to compare two women’s performances out loud. The last time he had done that, he'd received a nasty little stab wound. Those prostitutes, so touchy! Still, there was something not quite right about this picture. "I thought you did not believe in healing me. What happened to learning from my mistakes?"
"Learning generally requires you to be alive." She left it there, assuming that was reason enough. No need to get emotional.
"I died?" True, there were times they had fallen in battle and Wynne or Morrigan had brought them back, but Zevran had never considered that dying, not really. Death was much more permanent, as any good assassin knew.
Morrigan shrugged nonchalantly. "Close enough,” she said, seemingly unconcerned. Apparently something had struck a chord in the elf, because he was blissfully silent for a few moments. "Zevran," she said, her voice lower and more serious. "You have to stop this."
She didn't need to tell him how lucky he was that a mage had been in the vicinity, or how close he had been to a true death. She didn't need to complain about how much the healing had drained her, or threaten not to help him next time. All of that was evident in her tone, and Zevran found he had no witty reply. He couldn't even make fun of her for admitting she cared what happened to him. He frowned, nodding slightly.
Satisfied she'd made an impact, Morrigan slid down from the counter and crossed to the table. "Good boy,” she said, her hand going to his head and ruffling his hair like one might a dog. Her palm was cool with magic as it brushed over his warm brow.
She left him sitting there on the table without saying good night. She'd used up all her pleasantries for the week. Zevran was left alone with his thoughts.