october_rosehip

A writing warm-up from Nano that I utterly forgot I wrote. Zevran X Macsen Surana

Every mage in the Crows was a nasty piece of work. Zevran had little enough to do with them, which was for the best. They loomed in the shadows, did unfortunate things with blood, and assisted the maestros in jobs that had added layers of... complexity. Even the few circle mages Zevran had met tended towards duplicity and were not to be underestimated.

So, this elven man, dressed in furs and teeth, with spirits and shadows dancing around his feet, who drank the life from his enemies in battle and summoned lighting from the air was certainly something like Zevran had expected.

And then Macsen climbed a tree for the sheer fun of it, his bare back rippling with more wiry muscle than a mage needed, surely. He sat up there over breakfast, singing some random song about the changing seasons. It had the general rhythm of the elven songs Zevran had heard in Antiva. Zevran had not expected that.

He didn't expect to be armed in superior weaponry when the Warden found Zevran's own to be lacking. He didn't expect necromancers to be cuddly, or to smell like mint soap, or to have such soft hair. He didn't expect such a beautiful but sheltered young man to have been lying about his sexual experience level... because he'd been judged in the past for having too much of it. He didn't expect the skill of his new lover to match his own.

He didn't expect them to be so much the same. Zevran didn't expect to be understood, to be matched in both joy of life, and in the amount of pain he attempted to bury. He didn't expect the holder of his vow to have his back as much as Zevran had his. He didn't expect that very vow to be cast aside, when Macsen could no longer stand to hold another's leash. He certainly never expected to be offered trust, or to deserve it.

Zevran found he could enjoy a good surprise, or several.

Musing

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