(no subject)

[antivan-leather.livejournal.com]

The idea of a leisurely morning is one that Zevran has never been accustomed to. It's yet another of the surprises that Milliways has had in store for him, and it's difficult not to indulge in. He's rented a small room upstairs, similar to his simple apartment in Antiva although considerably cleaner. The assassin appreciates the finer things in life, but there is also simple joy to be found in having a dry place to sleep, with a soft bed and sheets that are always clean.

There's also the convenience of a modern bathtub. The first night he stayed at Milliways, the elf had soaked in the hot water for hours, a luxury that's difficult to afford when you're heating your own water one bucket at a time.

At the moment, he's sprawled comfortably on a sofa and picking at his breakfast -- sliced fruit, a hard roll with butter -- while he pages through a small book. He's out of his armor and instead dressed in a simple tunic, green with gold trim, knee-length and belted at the waist. His legs and feet are bare, but a pair of sandals with calf wrappings is lying nearby. He's also not visibly armed, though one would be foolish to assume that he isn't armed period.

Zevran hums softly to himself as he turns a page and takes a sip of what looks like thin mud from a delicate little cup. It's actually chocolate, and there's an almost full pot of it sitting with the rest of his food. He may be inclined to share.


[Tiny tag: Zevran]

Comments

[blue_raz]

There is an obviously armed, very pale, golden eyed mand sitting on another couch nearby sipping something very red and thick from a fine glass. He is reading an old battered book with his booted feet resting on one of the low tables that occupy this space. His sword rested against the couch.

He looked nearly human, except for the eyes and the very pale colour of his skin, and the long dark fingernails that were razor sharp and could rip a man to shreds. There is also the case of his fangs that may be see if he speaks or smiles.

[antivan-leather.livejournal.com]

Zevran is not unaware of the man's presence. Even relaxed as he is, face content and hazel eyes heavy-lidded, he is completely tuned in to his surroundings. He's also paying Raziel particular attention, as he does anyone with a sword, or anyone who's drinking what looks suspiciously like blood. Zevran has participated in blood rituals before, and has a healthy awareness of the power that the stuff can have. Apart from that, consuming it for sustenance is just bizarre.

Of course, he's never actually seen a vampire before, though Sunshine had talked quite a bit about them.

He stretches, the movement unconsciously graceful and sensual and incorporating everything from his fingers to his toes, before settling again and beginning to nibble at a slice of pear that has a bit of cheese on top of it. He'll just be sticking with his real food, thank you.

[blue_raz]

Raziel smiled into his book.

"You could just ask," he said aloud wondering if the other would realize who he was talking to.

[antivan-leather.livejournal.com]

"I could," Zevran replies as he licks his fingers clean and takes a sip of his chocolate, "but I'd rather thought that waiting until I was done eating would be a better idea. Waste not, want not, you understand."

It's a silly expression, of course, because there are many who waste nothing and want for plenty.

He selects a piece of melon this time, orange and fragrant, and a bit of cured ham that's been shaved almost paper-thin. Zevran isn't certain whether the man read his mind or something, he knows there are people here who can do that, but he's good at not letting surprise show.

[blue_raz]

Raziel is not an empath or a telepath. He's just aware when people are observing him.

"You are right," said Raziel raising his glass in a toast to the other, "To not waisting sustenance."

[antivan-leather.livejournal.com]

The elf gives a hum of agreement and absently holds up his own cup before emptying it. Then he pours a little more and goes about the business of finishing his breakfast. He's unhurried about the whole thing, because in Milliways there's no need to shove what little he can get down his throat and rush to be one of the first to see the contract lists. Early arrivals get the first shot at putting their bids in, after all.

He puts his book aside and wipes his hands clean with a napkin when he's done, and sits up properly. Or at least as properly as Zevran ever sits when he's not in formal company, which is to say not very. He practically drapes himself over whatever furniture he happens to be on. It's a calculated blend of seductive charm and disarming laxness.

"So, is it?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

The cup gets a curious look from one of the passers-by, a young woman in a blue and gold jumpsuit. She's gotten to the point where she no longer assumes that Milliways patrons who look other than baseline human are mutants by default, which is a vast improvement for her, but there are a few other habits left over from her early days at the Bar, and one of them is that she's never been very fond of chocolate. The prospect of drinking the stuff had never occurred to her.

She'll realize she's staring in a moment, but in her defense, staring at stuff was never presented at home as being on the same level of rude as staring at people.

[antivan-leather.livejournal.com]

Chocolate for eating is not unknown in Antiva. Drinking chocolate, however, is a traditional part of the morning meal, though it can also be replaced by coffee. It's thicker than the hot chocolate most worlds favor, and not as sweet, though that can be adjusted to personal taste. This particular Antivan prefers his in the traditional style; it balances well with the other components of the meal, which tend to be sweeter.

The elf notices that she's staring, and grins. "Come now," he teases, propping both bare, well-formed, tan legs up on one arm of the sofa, "surely there are more desirable things to stare at here than a mere beverage."

It's quite unlikely that Zevran will be broken of any of his habits in the near future, including this one.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Ellen jerks a little bit and looks up. "Well, yes," she says almost guiltily, "but I- well." She spreads her hands in a gesture of vague embarrassment. "I'm not supposed to stare at people. Or clothes, for that matter."

Because she's seen leather armor before, and what they've got in the Capitol Wasteland? Does not come anywhere close to that design.

[antivan-leather.livejournal.com]

Leather armor is certainly Zevran's customary attire, but he's left that upstairs this morning. It doesn't seem to lend itself very well to the idea of relaxing, after all, and it's pleasant to be able to do that for once in his life. He doesn't own much besides his armor, of course, but Bar thoughtfully provided several changes of clothing in his room, softer and sensually pleasing garments in flattering shades of green and deep red and russet, offset with gold and the occasional silver.

Being an assassin and a lover do not always go hand in hand, after all.

"Believe me, my dear, I will not object should you wish to stare at me. Of course, I can think of some other things you could do to me instead, if you'd prefer. Would you like to hear a few?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

There is a deep and sincere apology from the other side of the fourth wall, then, as the description was read several times and yet somehow that fact completely eluded the typist. Say instead then that Ellen's never seen clothing of that quality or style, because let's be honest, she hasn't, and it will be much the same.

Especially since in the end she turns an interesting shade of pink regardless. "I- no, I don't think that'll be necessary," she says. "It's... a little early in the day, isn't it?"

She hopes, anyway. She's never clear on who's running on what clock around here.

[antivan-leather.livejournal.com]

The leather is such a staple feature for the elf, that it is quite understandable. Even he's trying to get used to wearing anything else, at least in addition to his own skin, for any period of time.

Or the smoldering smile that he's also wearing right now. From the other side of the fourth wall, this particular typist is hoping that image-based age is not being misjudged, otherwise even Zevran will be rather offended by himself.

"Too early for love? Why, perish the thought, beautiful one. Is it ever too early to pray, too early to beg forgiveness for one's sins? Of course not, and indeed we should endeavor to do so at every opportunity, day or night. So why should it ever be too early to pay homage to a goddess?"

[flail_victoria]

Of course when you have a girl who is rather annoyed at her lot in life, or unlife you get a frustrated girl. This frustrated girl plopped her large weapon on the floor near the Elf with a large thud, and proceeded to sit down on the floor and take the thing appart to clean it. At least she wasn't in her uniform and was wearing a pair of comfortable pants and a teeshirt. All the while she had a pair of headphones on and was listening to Pink Floyd on CD. At least her diskman was not one of those ones that was so sensitive it would skip at the drop of a hat. From time to time she'd sing along with the lyrics, and you can't get any better than Dark Side of the Moon, unless its Umaguma, or even Works.

"... and down, and in the end its only round and round, and round....Mmmmm mmmmm mmm.... Haven't you heard its a battle of words.....," she sang while cleaning.

[antivan-leather.livejournal.com]

It's very fortunate that she's not wearing her uniform, though the t-shirt is hardly an improvement. Zevran isn't quite sure which is more distracting, the ridiculous weapon - he can't think of anything else it could be, and were it in the hands of a man he'd feel obliged to make some crack about overcompensating - or her bust.

What she's singing somehow manages to be far stranger than anything else. Zevran has never heard music quite like it before, and while he doesn't necessarily object (Maker forbid he acquire an iPod during his stay in Milliways), he knows enough about music - part of Crow training - to tell that her pitch isn't really on. It's probably because she's singing without hearing herself, and simply assuming that what's coming out of her mouth matches what's going into her ears.

Rather than interrupt her just yet, Zevran watches quietly and curiously.

The way she jiggles as she cleans is especially attractive.

[flail_victoria]

Of course she jiggles, if you have boobs the size of hers your gonna jiggle even while wearing a sports bra.

She noticed the guy watching her after a while.

"Can I help you?" she asked moving her earphones from her ears to her neck.

[antivan-leather.livejournal.com]

No one said that the jiggling is a bad thing. Zevran offers a lazy smile and shakes his head.

"Oh, nothing in particular. I'm just admiring the view." He gives her a wink. "One of the better views I've seen since coming here, in fact. Though, I do feel obligated to ask what in the Maker's name that is." He nods toward the enormous firearm.

[flail_victoria]

"Bloody Hell! You Perv!" said Seras, "And THAT is my weapon."

She folded her arms over her ample chest.

[antivan-leather.livejournal.com]

She sounds vaguely Fereldan, though not entirely. Zevran has been noticing that about a lot of people, the peculiar linguistic parallels even though they come from different worlds.

"And what an impressive weapon it is, my dear," he replies glibly. The elf doesn't seem the least bit ashamed about her accusation, either. "But while I must confess that your bosom is quite magnificent, it is but a part of the whole. Surely you are aware that someone so charmingly adorable is bound to attract attention, and are simply toying with me now. So beautiful, and yet so cruel. I love it."

She is quite cute, in all honesty. Zevran doesn't see many women that look quite like her in Antiva, even though they're another of his favorite types. Short, perky, blonde, outspoken, obviously strong. Admittedly, the fantastic rack doesn't take away from the picture.

[cutting_edgex23]

[ooc: I was wondering if it was too late to tag this EP with X, I know it's been up a few days, I've been flaky. Zevran = awesome, so.]

[antivan-leather.livejournal.com]

[cutting_edgex23]

X's nose does not wrinkle, but the sharp too-sweet smell of melted chocolate draws her attention.

And then she frowns. Faintly.

Because X has never seen this kind of drink before.

"You are not thirsty?"

Liquid mud -- or chocolate -- does not seem like a thirst-quencher.

(Never mind that neither is a root beer float.)

[antivan-leather.livejournal.com]

Zevran has never had a root beer float, but it's very likely that he would enjoy one if he tried it. He lowers the small cup -- gulping a large quantity of Antivan hot chocolate down in one go might well make one sick -- and looks up when X approaches. He's not sure who or what she is, because he learned very quickly that things are not always what they seem here in Milliways, but the word "magnificent" does spring to mind rather quickly. There's a certain lean grace to her movements that the assassin finds extremely enticing. It suggests power, and Zevran loves a powerful woman.

"Oh, yes. This is merely to whet the appetite." The elf grins at X over the cup, and it's hard to tell whether the inflections he put behind his words are innuendo or just how he speaks. The correct answer is probably "both."

"You are welcome to try some, if you wish. It is not at all as repulsive as it looks."

It's free of sticks and leaves and other bits of natural debris, so it's a good guess that it's not actually mud.

[cutting_edgex23]

"Oh," X says, gaze flicking between the elf and the cup.

She does move a few steps closer. Carefully.

"That does not make sense."

Her nostrils flare very briefly, and she shakes her head once.

"I do not like chocolate."

Beat.

"Thank you."

[antivan-leather.livejournal.com]

He doesn't seem offended, and chuckles. "Your loss, amore. Though I understand that it cannot be to everyone's tastes."

The elf is draped comfortably over the sofa, a combination of seduction and deception that he's perfected over the years as a means of disguising his capacity for violence (though he certainly does not possess X's advantages). Indeed, even now Zevran probably wouldn't look out of place on the couch in some noble's bedchamber. He is not, however, the sort to jump to action unless provoked, and even then it takes a lot of prodding -- or the right amount of coin -- to push him to it.

"Perhaps I can offer something else, if the chocolate is not to your liking?"

[cutting_edgex23]

X shrugs, one-shouldered and quick. It's the body language of someone for whom it does not come naturally at all. Contained stillness is much more her speed.

And the seductive deception in his posture seems to go right over her head. Or, at the moment, gets dismissed as irrelevant.

Neither of them are working.

"I am X-23. Not amore."

Because clarification is important.

"And I am not thirsty. Now."