[ OPEN ] Il Sogno Va Nel Tempo

[ombranera]

WHO: Zevran Arainai
WHERE: Inn, Fountain Park, Fishmonger
WHEN: December 4th
OPEN TO: OPEN TO ALL
WARNINGS: Mentions of fish gutting and cleaning, Google Translate Abuse (hover over Antivan/Italian for translation), Spicy Storytime will have some sexual content. A lot. Mostly sexual content.

---

INN - The Barber of Antiva

It's early in the day when Zevran finds not one, but three boxes with his name written upon them well, he assumes Satinalia came early, especially once he gets a look at the contents. One has him grinning, fetching the store of shaving kits he'd found in the Inn, packing a bag before setting up with a message offer to the whole of the village.

Need a shave, trim, conditioning, scalp massage or styling? Perhaps you wish your hair braided in a fetching manner, or your nails filed and buffed. I will be in the Inn near the fire offering these services all morning.

It took a trip or two to find a kettle and platter from one of the abandoned houses, a large bowl for steamed water and towels from more of the same, folded and steaming with water as he bustles about a chair. An arrangement of lotions, oils, creams and soaps are set on the table next to him as he whistles a bright tune, straight razor scraping in a steady rhythm against the strop on his thigh. This is simple, relatively wholesome work- and an excellent way to learn all the village gossip. The fact that it would earn him some favor with the locals doesn't hurt either.


FISHMONGER- Fishsticks!

The second of the boxes prompts him to risk the cold, bundled up by the dock, floating a line in the water. He has done this before in sunnier weather, the height of summer- it takes stillness, patience, and a keen eye. Awaiting the proper opportunity. It works well enough, pulling fish up from the river, setting them in a bucket to carry back to the building for cleaning and descaling- bloody work to cut open and remove the guts and blood from the succulent meat. Guts to one bucket, fillets to another, Bones and heads to yet another for use in a stock later. It would be a simple enough past time if not for the mice that keep running across the boards and freezing his fish solid.

Once or twice he could ignore it, but by the third? He's swearing, swatting at the tiny mice, trying to protect his hard won spoils."Ho intenzione di trovare te e tutti i tuoi piccoli bambini grassi e bollirli!"


INN - Kitchen Takeover

"Andiamo a vedere alla spiaggia mentre splende la luna piena," Bottle of wine uncorked and at least a glass in his system to start (to cook is to drink is to cook, it's a rule. One cannot be done without the other.) which makes singing all the easier. He is warm, he has a box full of spices with which to cook, a collection of flour and eggs, vegetables and fresh fish. Perhaps someone else intended to handle cooking the lunch today but Zevran will offer any that sweep in with the intent of doing so off to the side, offer them a cup of wine and a chance to rest as he sets about kneading fresh pasta, stewing vegetables and garlic, measuring out spices and oil for a shallow fry.

He might be dusted with flour and have a smear of sauce on his jaw, but he's the brightest, happiest he's been since he woke in the frigid fountain. Flitting from where he is working the dough to where he is stirring sauce to where he is marinating fish to where he is mulling wine is less a jog and more a dance from surface to surface, singing all the while. "E tiritùppete – ttùppete – ttùppete – ttùppete – ttùppete – ttùppete – ttù. E tiritùppete – ttùppete – ttùppete – la tarantella la llara lla llá!"


FOUNTAIN PARK - Fire Dancing

Something he'd learned (on accident, he didn't mean to set part of the table on fire and he put it out QUICKLY so that must count, yes? Yes) was despite the strange mice and their freezing, skittering feet; he now has magic. Fire. And well, never let it be said Zevran ignored a skill. One must practice with their magic to learn to control it, yes? Yes. Or there will be demons. He starts simply enough, holding a flame in his palm, lighting a stick, dunking it in the fountain and attempting to light it again. Here is safe since, well. There is water right there in case anything goes wrong. As the day winds on he manages to direct balls of flame like spinning poi, carving quick circles as he spins around the lip of the fountain. Because he likes to live dangerously, of course-

Or be able to dunk himself in if he sets something on him on fire.


INN - STORY TIME With Zevran (option for Mild or SPICY)

The end of the day (a marvelous day, a wondrous day) has Zevran, full, warm, cup of mulled wine in hand, feeling far more conversational than he has been since his arrival. There are no Crows. No one has any reason to wish him dead, elves are strange but not lesser, the people here are as lost and lonely and bored as he. Why not take advantage and spin a few tales? He gestures as he speaks, plucking from stories of his latest grand adventure.

Mild

"So there we are, trapped in a cursed forest, mist to one side that only ever turns us about, werewolves on the other penning us in, and who offers us aid? Not the Dalish, no, they were tending to their sick, not the dwarves we won allegiance from earlier, they were preparing for the battle to come. But a Tree. A rhyming, living, breathing oak!" He crackles brightly, hands flicking up to measure the height and breadth of the thing. "Everything he said. Insult or assistance or question, all came in rhyme. It was charming for the first five minutes but then grew terribly dull."

Spicy

"This is- I mean normally a gentleman does not kiss and tell, yes? But you and I my friend-" A few cups of wine in while warm, loose, and feeling quite safe? Anyone could be his friend. He lists forward, hair spilling over one shoulder, eyes glimmering bright in the firelight, voice a conspiratorial whisper. "You and I both know I am no gentleman."

Zev's nose wrinkles as he snorts, a half stuttered giggle. "But this Contessa, ah- she had strange tastes no? She promises 'oh my husband does not satisfy me, oh he does not know what burns in my blood' and I, well, I have tried many a thing and heard of even more so whatever it is this lovely, and I do mean lovely woman with eyes like embers and a chest like two melons straining against her bodice? I am more than willing to try. Normally when nobles say 'oh this thing it is so kinky' usually it means 'tie me up and call me names' which, well. You do you, I suppose. But the Contessa? Had far more dangerous tastes."

Comments

[ombranera]

"Oh?" Gossip, at last! "Is this man your lover- or someone you wish could be so?"

Matchmaking isn't exactly a thing in The Crows but it does make for amusing anecdotes. Helping a man look his best for someone he admires- or someone he wishes to have admire him? That is fairly useful. Zevran oils his palms and begins massaging the nape of Jake's neck, giving his head, and jaw, a critical look.

Too little facial hair and he might seem odd, too much (this beard) is not a good look. The goatee is an excellent middle ground to prevent him looking too young.

[killorder]

Jake ducks his head, a slow blush creeping up his neck as he shrugs, then realizes he needs to hold still.

"Is probably going to be, we're working on it?" Because it's more than wishing anymore. "I knew him for years, and turns out we both were checking out the other, but we were in a unit and, yeah, no."

He chuckles, eyes half closing as he lets Zev work on him.

"But he's amazing and talented and can have like anyone he wants so... I need to not look like the best friend to a cartoon dog or something."

[ombranera]

"Then I shall have to do my best to make you especially handsome, yes?" Yes. That goes without saying. Longing looks across the way, a love yet unconsummated? Clearly he must make this client as delicious and desirable as possible to drive his man to distraction.

"We shall need regular appointments, yes? Once a week ought to suffice for a trim and a shave to maintain the standard of handsomeness we shall set today. You will be so striking, so attractive, he will not know what to do with himself." This is a promise he can make.

[killorder]

"It's worth trying," he says, forcing himself not to shrug, or wiggle. Sitting still is not one of Jake's best traits. He manages it though, even as he starts to nod and catches himself.

"Yes. God yes. It's been driving me nuts. I know there's bigger things to worry about here but it's been driving me nuts." He isn't vain, but he does care, and he tries. It's hard in this place though.

Laughing self consciously, he blushes a bit. "I hope you're right. He's the kind of guy that can have anyone, and I know I'm lucky he picked me."

[ombranera]

"It helps to make one thing more normal in the face of so much strangeness. If you are able to maintain this, the rest feels less impossible." Even on the road, even in the Deep Roads where there was no light, no fresh water, no sound save those of Darkspawn all around him- Zevran maintained his appearance. It made him feel more in control of his destiny when so very little power was in his hands.

Doing the same here for others? Is no trouble.

Carefully navigating the fidgets and wiggling, Zevran trims down Jensen's hair as promised before beginning on the beard. "He saw something in you worth choosing. Be proud of that."

[killorder]

"Hadn't thought of it that way, but you're right. I just always took for granted before the fact that every base had a barber. When you're used to them being everywhere, even just cheap disposable razors, you don't think about how to do it without all of that."

And now he's ever so thankful for Zev for doing this for him.

"You'll have to tell me what you need. I do my best at hunting and fishing, and I can do work on your house if you have your own place."

Jake chuckles at that, smiling as he relaxes, eyes closed. "I know what he sees in me in what I can do and all. I made myself his best friend, and I understand him in ways that no one else does. I just... I'm not the good looking one in our unit. I'm the dorky one."