No, don’t apologise! Specific is good, and thanks for coming up with such a nice idea. I’ll do my best with it.
Zevran could only relax when he saw the arcane horror crumble into weathered bones and decaying rags around Sten’s greatsword. The abomination’s final screech and the resulting
around the high-ceilinged room of the Circle Tower
made him wince and tighten his grip on his daggers.
“The higher up the tower we go, the worse things are becoming.” Their escort commented - her name was Wynne, Zevran quickly reminded himself. It was unusual, having another mage tag along with them who didn’t spit out snide remarks. How Morrigan had spoiled them. In fact, Wynne seemed to be her exact opposite. Oh, how he was looking forwards to them meeting, if this elderly healer decided to come away with them.
“This would not happen if you mages were under more control.” Sten replied sternly, wiping dust and ash from his blade.
“You do know you can stop flinching, Sten. I’m not going to harm you. In fact, quite the opposite.”
Zevran rolled his eyes, not wanting to get caught up in a discussion about mages with either party member.
And, speaking of party members… The blond frowned as he looked around the Great Hall for any sign of their Grey Warden leader. Normally Theron fought at a distance, but at some points the enemies had managed to target him. And as amusing as it would otherwise have been to see the Dalish elf darting or backpedalling from one end of the room to the other away from enemies, the thought of him falling under a heavy enough blow sent a chill down the Antivan’s spine.
Rogues were not meant to weather blows as well as an armoured Qunari or human, and least of all an archer. They relied on stealth and speed, and in Theron’s case a clear shot.
And here they were in a Circle tower, fighting mages and demons. It was entirely possible that a bolt of magic had passed over their heads unnoticed to strike Theron.
Tuning out the magic-orientated ‘discussion’ Sten and Wynne were now having, Zevran began to casually scout the room, alert for either loot (he highly doubted the Tower would mind or notice a few missing trinkets when the place was infested with demons and blood magic) or their Grey Warden (hopefully in one piece) as he retraced their path through the hall.
The blond relaxed when he saw Theron slowly getting to his feet on the other side of one of the columns that dotted the room, gripping the carved stone for support and wincing. The ranger looked up when he realised someone was watching him, the faintly pained expression vanishing as he shouldered his bow.
“I’m not liking this tower so far.” The Dalish elf muttered, leaning against the column he must have been using for cover against the arcane horror. “What’s wrong?” He asked as Zevran walked over.
“I…” The Antivan began, lost for words now. He couldn’t say that he had actually been worried just because he’d lost sight of the ranger in the heat of a battle. No, that was foolish. “Are you alright?” He settled for instead.
“Fine.” Theron nodded, still sounding uncertain, and Zevran looked away as he tried to calm his thoughts. There. He was fine. They both were. Nothing to worry senselessly about.
That didn’t stop the blond from stepping closer, glad of the shielding column that blocked them both from view of the room ahead. Not that the others seemed to have noticed, still discussing the dangers of magic in any form. Theron blinked, grey eyes widening briefly in surprise when Zevran’s body suddenly pinned his to the cool stone, but he didn’t protest.
The kiss was deep with passion, their lips and bodies warm against each other’s. Theron remained still for a few seconds, no doubt taken by surprise, but he soon began to respond eagerly.
He shivered faintly, but that could have been because of the cold stone pressing into his back through his armour. Their hands roamed, one of Zevran’s going to the Dalish elf’s hair and the other to his waist, while Theron pulled the Antivan closer by the shoulders.
Zevran closed his eyes, still attempting to tell himself that he hadn’t been worried, even though the relief that washed through him made him feel weak and the kiss spoke otherwise, passion tinged with desperation.
Zevran pulled away first, as abruptly as he’d begun the kiss. Theron blinked and then stared at him, looking a little dazed at the sudden withdrawal.
“What…?” The ranger muttered, and Zevran couldn’t help a weak smile at how disappointed he looked.
“Simply the thrill of the fight, amor. You know how I am.” He offered, not quite lying as they stepped away from the column and rejoined the other two.