|Isabela of Rivain (rivainipirate) wrote in utr_logs,|
@ 2011-03-26 19:02:00
|Entry tags:||isabela, zevran arainai|
WHO: Isabela and Zevran
WHAT: Old friends meeting again
WHERE: The Guildhall, New Orleans
WARNINGS: Probably the entire conversation will be one long sexual innuendo.
OOC: IJ crapped itself and deleted the log, but I saved the text, so pardon its form.
Isabela had gone to sleep in the back room of an inn somewhere in Nevarra.
She woke up on a long bench in what could only be described as a swamp.
The air was moist, and the buildings around her were built well, but somehow with a different character than any she'd ever seen before. The buildings were shorter and squatter, with a strange sort of roof. Had she been kidnapped? There weren't many places in Thedas she hadn't seen before. Well, there was Tevinter - she'd never been there - but this was not Tevinter. She'd wager good gold on that.
As she started to walk around, she kept a ready position, but there were little things that caught her notice. There were targets set up on the back property, as if for bowmen to practice. And a pair of boots lay drying near one of the buildings' back doors.
Even wet, she knew that smell. It was a special mix of tannery and brothel, with a bit of blood. "Antivan," she murmured. "Is this Antiva?" How ... homely, if it was!
Zev was nearby, shirtless, sprawled on a lawn chair. His already dark tan skin had gotten tanner since returning to Guildhall, and he was dozing contentedly. Though upon hearing a murmur and a rustle near him, he lazily opened one eye and put a hand upon one of his throwing daggers. Better to be safe than sorry.
Thankfully, she looked up from the boots over to the left. She laughed delightedly. "Zevran, is that you? Who paid you to kidnap me? Was it Castillon? He swore he'd never trouble me again, the bastard."
Zev blinked. "Isabella? When did you arrive? ... you still think you're in Thedas?" He raised a brow and sat up a bit on the chair. "Think, Isabella, what need would I have to kidnap you? If I want to gag and bind you, I need only ask."
Well, that was true enough. Still, he wasn't making sense. "How could I not be in Thedas?" Isabela raised one eyebrow. "I was in Nevarra last night. Where would kidnappers be able to go that wasn't Thedas, in one night? And you're fairly easy to hire nowadays, dear, especially if it takes you far from Antiva."
"I am sorry, Isabella, but you are in a different world entirely. Nobody is quite sure how the magic works, but we simply know that we are here and that it is ... quite different from home. However, you did arrive at the right place!" He laughed and motioned for her to lay down by him. "This is an assassin's guild. I am sure the mistress of the house will be as charmed by you as I am."
That was a lot to process, even for her. She looked at him like he'd gone mad, though she did sit near him. "Zevran, are you certain you aren't, I don't know, in lyrium withdrawal? Or something?" And an assassin's guild run by a woman? That might be excellent, despite the sheer weirdness of this ... silliness of Zev's.
"I have never taken lyrium, Isabela, you should know that." He reached out to squeeze her hand. "It is good to see you. The only people from home here are Morrigan and her mother." He nosewrinkled mightily, shaking his head. "Morrigan I do not mind, but Flemeth should be dead."
Isabela sighed. "Lyrium would have explained this." But she accepted the squeeze, returning the casual contact. "Morrigan. Is that the dark girl who was with you in Denerim? I never met Flemeth, but Hawke told me about her. Did you ever meet Hawke?" She looked up at him. "I spent time with her in Kirkwall." Bloody hell, at least this wasn't Kirkwall!
"I met Hawke, remember?" He winked and smiled, leaning back in his seat. "You will believe me when you begin to see things that we had nowhere back home." He turned to face her. "You are well? I do not know if they have many pirates here, alas."
"Well, I remember you, Hawke and I having a very enjoyable time, but if you're telling me this is a different world, I've no idea what you remember." Isabela lay down next to him, looking over at him. "I'm all right. I'd just landed in Ostwick on a brand new ship after running out of Kirkwall like my hair was on fire - it had all gone completely mad ... I was going to look for hands there." Her tone was dismissive, but the realization that she no longer had a ship was swift and painful. Still, Zevran was not her first choice for a shoulder to cry on.
"Well, there is quite a lot of opportunity here if you want it. I believe that the Mistress would have work for you if you wanted it, and you could simply purchase a boat. Though I know the idea of getting something honestly may pain you." He smiled at her, shaking his head. "It is not a bad place to live. There are no Crows, for one thing."
"I'll look around a bit for work." This was an assassin's guild, and that might work out, but as sweet as he was, being beholden to Zevran for anything bothered her in principle. It did make her smile, though, when he said there were no Crows. "If there's no Antiva, there's no Crows, and no Castillon to bother me." She told him briefly of the deal she'd made with the smuggler prince.
Scoffing, Zev shook his head. "Ugh, do not mention his name. Things in the past are best left in the past." He smiled and stood up, stretching. "Come, let us get you a beverage, it is too warm here in the noontime, even for me."
She could handle that. "Whisky," Isabela said firmly, standing as well, following him. "So, where is this place, if it isn't Antiva? It's just as hot and swampy."
"Louisiana in the country of the United States on the planet Earth." He shook his head. "I am not very good with geography, I tend to look up where I am going before I travel there." He led her into the lovely house that was Guildhall, smiling as he went to the bar to pour her a drink.
Isabela followed, looking around idly at the inside walls. Pity the place was an assassin's guild; there were things she'd have loved to steal. "I'll have to do the same." She managed a smile. "I suppose I should be familiar with the bodies of water, if nothing else."
"There's quite a bit of it!" He beamed and handed her the glass before pouring one for herself. He moved to walk up the stairs toward his bedroom.
She took it and drained half of it in a long swallow before following him. "There's a lot of water? That would be nice. I'm guessing there's no Qunari here to out-sail, as well." Maybe she could find a crew, if she could ever get her hands on a bloody ship.
"There's a few oceans. No Qunari, but there are pirates. Though from what I can tell, they are quite congenial." He smiled and rounded the corner to his room, smiling as they entered. He'd decorated it as close to an Antivan whorehouse as he could get, because it comforted him.
"The pirates are? I'm not sure if that's good or bad." Isabela would have said more, but she had to laugh when she saw his room. "Oh, now this is Antiva." She chuckled, ruffling his hair affectionately. "It looks like that whorehouse down in the tannery district." She knew Zevran's mother had been a whore, but she'd never asked beyond that point; they weren't really that close. "A touch of home." She sat on his bed, smiling. Some habits never died.
"I missed it." He shrugged, running his fingers over the silks that covered his window. "It reminds me of my life before I was sold to the Crows." He locked the door behind him, smirking at her before moving to sit next to her.
"I'll have to see if I can find anything that reminds me of Orlesian silks. You saw my captain's cabin on the Siren's Call." Many times. Mostly from horizontal positions. Isabela smiled a little. "I hope I can find a place to live. It'd be a bit of a pain to have to whore myself out for a roof over my head." As opposed to just for fun.
"Check your purse. Most replace someone who lived here before, I do not see why you would be different." He sprawled out on his bed next to her, setting his head in her lap. She had liked to pet his hair before.
She still did. Isabela reached her free hand down to the bag suspended from her shoulder, the strap crossed over her chest. "Is this the sort of thing women wear around here?" She asked, rummaging in the pouch. She felt not papers, but a sort of little book.
She pulled it out of the pouch, one hand still stroking Zevran's hair, instantly raising an eyebrow. "What is a Pass-port?" She managed to flip it open with a finger, and instantly recoiled. "Who is that and why does she look as though she's been attacked by a dragonling? And what is a pas-torr?"
"It is. They make it so easy to steal from them, really." He smiled and looked at the papers. "Passports are ways that the governments - monarchies, after a fashion - keep track of who is coming and going. And a pastor is ... well, like a Mother of the chantry." He snickered, trying to hide his laughter and failing utterly.
Isabela's horror was complete. She stopped petting his hair, looking down at him. "Oh, Maker, you can't be serious."
After a while, though, she did laugh. "It does rather sound like the plot of one of my books." She'd have to find a replacement for Hessarian's Spear! "You haven't deflowered any Chantry sisters, have you?" She winked. "It would give you a story to tell whenever we go back to Thedas!"
"They don't have the Chantry here. There's quite a few religions here, and they're all different. It's interesting." He smiled and purred a little, nudging against her hand. "And you will simply love films. The dirty ones are fantastic."
"What are films?" She did like petting his hair; it was so soft, despite how rough he usually lived. "And I was saying, if the person I replaced is supposed to be a Mother, you could technically tell a tale of deflowering a Chantry sister." She just assumed the two of them would have sex at some point. It was usually what happened when they got together.
"They are like theater, only they are preserved and we are able to watch them any time we wish." He reached out for his television remote, turning it on and smiling.
Isabela was astonished when the box sputtered into life. "That's bloody amazing." She couldn't take her eyes off it for a while. The people moving on it wore strange clothes, and she didn't understand every single word, but it was interesting enough to keep her attention.
After what had probably been a while, she wrenched her attention back to Zevran. "How do you get anything done?" She laid down next to him, getting comfortable.
"And this is not the dirty sort of film!" He grinned and kissed her hand, content to be with someone from home that he new and cared about. "I do not know, to be honest. Miss Petit makes me?"
"That's the woman who's the guild leader?" She was a bit tired, actually, and curled up next to him. Hopefully he wouldn't be a bastard about her foregoing sex for once. "May I stay here?" He was warm and comfortable, and most of all, familiar.
He nodded, curling closer to her. He could tell she was disoriented and upset, and he didn't blame her. "That is her, yes. And of course."
She did mumble a thank you, in theory for letting her stay, but also secretly for curling close. She did like to be held every so often, and for all his bluster, Zevran was rather good at it. It took her what felt like forever, but eventually she did drift off to sleep.