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Post by cain on May 8, 2011 0:56:46 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][cs=2][atrb=style, width: 550px; background: #4A4344 url(http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs43/i/2009/099/a/6/Abstract_0003_by_AvanteGardeArt.jpg); border: 2px dashed #dc143c, bTable]I believe in NOTHING, not in peace and not in war I believe in NOTHING, but the truth of who we are |
[/div][/td][/tr] [tr][td][atrb=style, background: #E18B6B; padding: 8px; border-top: 2px solid #800517; border-bottom: 2px solid #800517; border-right: 2px solid #800517; opacity: 0.9] The Korcari Wilds. A cursed forest that only grew darker with the unwelcomed presence of the Darkspawn, the said demons having come from the onslaught at Ostagar, an onslaught that Cain had barely escaped. The young mercenary had allowed himself to participate in the battle alongside a berserker named Zita, someone that Cain had come to truly trust and respect, and a young homosexual mage named Celyn. A merry band of idiots, as Zita always referred to them as. And yet, here they were, scattered and injured.
Ah, yes, Cain too had been lucky enough to escape, being only able to do so due to the distraction one of those Grey Wardens subconsciously provided him with, but his escape had not been without difficulty. And finally, after a long distance of dragging his bloodied self into a seemingly safe spot, Cain allowed himself to slump to the ground, a loud grunt escaping his lips, his left hand hoisting his body up as he leaned himself against a tree. With heavy gasps, he glanced down, eyeing the piece of wood that stuck out from his right thigh, and another on the left side of his stomach. He reached forward, clamping his teeth together, his left hand wrapping itself around the base of the wooden thing. And with a jerk, he snapped the thing into two, the pressure of it sending a sharp chill course through Cain's body, the mercenary biting his lip just to stop himself from yelling, at a price of inflicting another cut upon his body.
And he would do the same process for the other arrow, tossing both aside as he let his left hand limp by his side then, his head falling backwards against the trunk of the tree, as he tried to regain his breathe. He was light-headed, his right arm completely lacking in feeling, having lost too much blood from the deep gash he had received right above his elbow.
He still carried Kardas and Sica, but both weapons had been stained black from the blood that he had drawn with both weapons, having dispatched his fair share of those accursed beings, only to get off-guard by a couple of archers. Even Cain could not possible block that many arrows. His head dropped forward, the eerie silence of the forest lulling him to sleep, as he noticed his blood slowly seeping down and staining the grass red.
Was he going to die here?
Cain clamped his eyes shut for a moment, subconsciously gulping. He then coughed right after, even more blood splattering out and staining the armor he wore. Well, that would suck. Just when he had finally made a couple of people he could consider 'friends'. Not to mention that he almost had something on with Zita. Plus, he had yet to get back at those Crows for killing both his real father and adoptive father. It was just the first battle against the darkspawn, and he was already on that thin line between life and death.
Was he really this pathe-
The familiar growl of darkspawn reached the man's ears, the soft sound sending a harsh chill down Cain's spine, his head slowly coming up as he noticed a scouting party of darkspawn coming towards his direction, spotting their movement through the openings between the natural barriers of the forest. Cain cursed under his breathe, his left hand being forced to come back to life then as he pulled Sica out, before stabbing it into the trunk, using it as a support as he brought himself up onto his feet, the effort doing naught but draw more blood from the two arrow wounds and countless other injuries he had suffered.
Even Cain himself was surprised that he was still alive.
Not for long, though, it seemed, as the darkspawn neared. He tightened his grip around Sica, his right arm still hanging lifelessly by his side. So, this was how it was going to go down, huh? Fine, if that was how it was going to be. He gritted his teeth, readying himself for what might just be his final fight.
Sorry, Zita. I won't be able to catch up to you this time...
And then, the first darkspawn emerged from the canopy, noticing the bleeding and injured Cain there, the man's brown eyes staring deep into his own. He let out a roar, alerting the rest of his party. Cain lowered his body, getting ready to throw himself to the side with his left leg if he needed to.
"Well, then, time to kick ass!" [/td] [td][atrb=style, width: 150px; vertical-align: top;] designed by FLOU / CAIN
lyrics taken from 100 suns, by 30 SECONDS TO MARS. [/td] [/tr][/table][/center] |
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Post by Zevran Arainai on May 8, 2011 12:07:14 GMT -5
Zevran's nose was full of the stench of blood. He personally thought that was the way it was supposed to be.
Ostagar remained in his mind. He'd wandered through the remains for the past few hours, hoping to find some sign of the Wardens' and their whereabouts. His mission, the largest one he'd ever been assigned with the highest prices, but also the most dangerous. Zevran felt cocky; he was on route to recruit a few Crows, incognito and scattered across Ferelden. Currently, he was alone, and racing to find hints of a trail his prey might have left.
The scattered bodies of the army, the darkspawn...Zevran almost wished he'd been there for the fight. It excited him, though he knew he would have surely died--painfully--had he been present. His two sharp, deadly blades, all of a sudden heavier on his back, were nice for assassinations, not battles. Once it came to several people, or things if he was talking about the darkspawn, he started to get hurt. And nothing reeked more than his own blood.
He was a ways away from Ostagar now, though. The buildings, a previous civilization crumbled by the Blight, was not significantly important to him. He was an elf, remember? The humans deserved to be kicked around some. What he was left with was excitement, thrill. Anticipation for a battle. His fingers tingled and he stopped himself before pulling his blades out for no apparent reason.
The Korcari Wilds stretched out before him, misty, mysterious, and slightly daunting. The smell of decaying logs, marshy fragrance and week-old corpses drifted along on a small breeze that ruffled Zevran's hair. His silent footsteps helped his ears attempt to pick up even the smallest rustle. Disappointed, he didn't give up; he carried on, farther into the unknown.
An hour passed, consisting of Zevran darting silently through the Wilds, patiently waiting for silence to be broken. Every dead darkspawn he came across was just another corpse, beginning to rot and someone else's slay. His long, graceful ears shifted with the wind, hoping to hear a quiet but promising sound to follow--
A growl, slurp, snort; crashing and snapping twigs. Zevran grinned. Darkspawn, and a little excitement in his day.
He bounded toward the sound, approximating a 5 or 6 member darkspawn scouting party. He sniffed, the distinct stench of unhygienic monsters catching on his nose, but something else, unexpected, came with it.
Human blood.
So there was someone else here? How interesting. This would make a fun encounter. Zevran caught sight of the darkspawn; he was behind them. Excellent. Sneak attacks were his speciality.
As Zevran dove behind a rock, one of the back members turned around, sniffing loudly. Shit. He'd tried to work with the wind, so his smell had been directed away from the darkspawn. It was an archer; Zevran was surprised how quickly the lumbering, oafish looking creature drew an arrow and sent it flying.
Thudding too close for comfort, embedding deeply into a tree directly behind Zevran's head, he knew darkspawn were not such simple creatures as he'd imagined the rotting corpses had been. He swiftly took his bow in hand and drew an arrow, sending it flying.
The moment he released the arrow, a roar echoed off the trees. His hands shook, and the arrow slipped, missing it's mark. It hit the darkspawn, but instead of in the temple, it jabbed into the shoulder. The wounded darkspawn screeched a reply to his leader, who had clearly declared something, but searched fervently for the one who had sent the arrow intended for death.
"Well, then, time to kick ass!"
Zevran heard the cry of a human, confirming his guesses with the blood smelt. He felt another arrow hit close to him again, and jumped onto the rock he had previously been hiding behind. Ducking past another speedy arrow, he hit the temple of the darkspawn archer. It collapsed to the ground, and Zevran smiled in satisfaction of taking one down. He slung his bow over his shoulder and pulled out his beloved blades, stabbing a darkspawn in the back who was apparently more interested in the human than Zevran.
A steady slash in the neck, jab in the head and kick in the back made sure it died.
2 down; 4 to go, Zevran thought to himself, biting his lip as he gained the attention of two more creatures. One had a bow, and hit him in the chest with it--hard. Zevran felt the wind get knocked out him, but he stood his ground and slashed at the thing's neck. Blood splattered his arm and blades, but Zevran paid no mind. With one distracted, he attacked the other, successfully pinning it to the ground and puncturing its chest, ripping its vital organs. Zevran returned to the other darkspawn, recovering from its stun, and swiftly dug into its temple. The creature dropped to the ground.
Only two more, Zevran thought panting, slightly overwhelmed by how persistent the bastards were. For the first time he caught sight of the human; a male, mid 20s, badly wounded. Had he not been facing a large beast drawing an arrow pointed at his head, Zevran would have stopped to take in who this man was--perhaps even guess at what secrets he was hiding. Zevran loved to play that game.
He dove to avoid the arrow, and it missed him--his head, at least. An arrow stuck out of his right shoulder, making Zevran wince and curse under his breath. He favoured his right arm; blood began to stream from the wound, and he tried to ignore it.
Hand flying to his belt, Zevran stuffed a dagger in the darkspawn's throat, hearing a satisfying choking gurgle. He saw his final prey, attacking the wounded man, and heart pounding, blood flowing, he thrust his blades through a chink in the darkspawn's armour from the back.
The skin was tough; the meaty flesh consumed the blades up to their hilts. Dark, disgusting blood gushed onto Zevran's hands, and it screamed. Retrieving the blades and kicking the wailing darkspawn to the ground, Zevran grinned. ""Some time to kick ass, huh?" [/b] [ooc: Hey, sorry if I took all the fighting :/ Your character is injured, so I didn't think he'd be able to take a good portion of them...but Zevran didn't kill them all, so we can still have a little duel assassin action!][/size] [/blockquote] |
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Post by cain on May 8, 2011 12:45:53 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][cs=2][atrb=style, width: 550px; background: #4A4344 url(http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs43/i/2009/099/a/6/Abstract_0003_by_AvanteGardeArt.jpg); border: 2px dashed #dc143c, bTable]I believe in NOTHING, not in peace and not in war I believe in NOTHING, but the truth of who we are |
[/div][/td][/tr] [tr][td][atrb=style, background: #E18B6B; padding: 8px; border-top: 2px solid #800517; border-bottom: 2px solid #800517; border-right: 2px solid #800517; opacity: 0.9] Cain felt his heart drop, his life seemingly slowing down to a halt as his vision slowly began to fade. His chest became heavier, breathing becoming even a difficulty for him. His left arm shook in its hold, as the darkspawn neared him. It was over. Cain knew it. His injuries had done him too much harm and his body was succumbing. The darkspawn, it seemed, would have another meal tonight.
They say that when you are about to die, your life flashes before your eyes. Cain wondered when he was going to experience such a phenomenon, but he did somewhat think back of the past few weeks, his time spent with Zita and Celyn. He wondered, how his life would actually be different if he had not agreed to accompany Zita. He allowed his eyes to look down for a moment, as he took another deep breathe.
Maker watch over you two...
However, it seemed that the Maker still had plans for the young mercenary cum assassin, as one of the darkspawn would suddenly topple to the ground, two arrows sticking out from his carcass, the downfall of their comrade halting the party's assault for a brief moment as they sought to figure out what was happening. Someone had come to save him. Cain's eyes widened, the rare glimpse of hope sending a jolt to his body, waking him up. Yes, there was still hope. Cain still had the chance to see the sun of the next day.
His savior soon emerged from the canopy, taking down another darkspawn with grace, a style that Cain found somewhat familiar, though was too exhausted to pinpoint nor think about it. Right now, his focus was getting out of this scenario alive. Cain watched then as the darkspawn split into pairs, one aiming the smaller figure of Cain's saviour, and the other two, of course, after him. Cain attempted to move back, but his back found wood. However, it seemed that his newfound ally would make short work of the darkspawn, as soon enough, there were only but one darkspawn left, this one too close for comfort.
Cain's left arm slung forward, Sica soaring through the air and finding its mark, digging into the darkspawn's chest and allowing the other to land the killing blow. Cain slumped downwards, his heart leaping as the last of them made their last sound. He was alive. And despite the pain and exhaustion that was biting at his body, he smiled, looking up at the elf that had saved him.
"Some time to kick ass, huh?"
Cain let out a whispered chuckle, not having enough energy left to say anything else, before smiling at the man. "Thank you." And finally, he once more slumped to the ground, landing on his bottom, his legs sprawled in front of him. He coughed, blood splurting from his mouth. Three coughs, and Cain groaned in pain afterwards, as he leaned his head back against the wood, looking up at the elf. Had Cain more energy and more time, he would analyze the person from head to toe, but at the moment, he was too tired, and too grateful, to even try.
"My name... Is Cain. I'm... In your debt." [/td] [td][atrb=style, width: 150px; vertical-align: top;] Tagged: Zevran Arainai
Song:
Words: 558
Notes: Haha, no biggie. Didn't figure that I could do anything better anyway. designed by FLOU / CAIN
lyrics taken from 100 suns, by 30 SECONDS TO MARS. [/td] [/tr][/table][/center] |
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Post by Zevran Arainai on May 8, 2011 21:02:49 GMT -5
The most distinct feature Zevran could make of the man was all the blood.
He had a sturdy build, like he was strong, but looked like he could dart just as quickly as Zevran (in proper condition, of course). His brown eyes held a respectable determination Zevran could identify with. Deciding it was best not to closer examine the stranger until his state returned to healthy--if it did--as it wasn't the time to be peering.
The man chuckled, smiled, showing signs of not yet dead. "Thank you." [/color] He uttered. Zevran could be called a heartless man in several situations; he could be called a helpless romantic in others. But the man's words meant something him; it seemed in the world of troubles, mercenaries and the Blight, thanks were often forgotten. After all, what was a man if he couldn't help another in such a near-death predicament such as this one? "You're welcome. The least I could do."[/color] There was plenty to do. Zevran knew six scattered bodies littering the ground had to be cleaned up. Surely they had some valuable items on them, useful if anything, and Zevran knew his weapons--a dagger, arrows--were sticking into their useless corpses. But, being chivalrous despite how far he was from any sign or human or elven society, he knew other things came first. And, apparently so did this man, even being close to death! "My name... Is Cain."[/color] A nice introduction! Zevran could tell he was going to like him. He liked his weapon choice, anyway. "I'm... In your debt."[/color] "A pleasure to meet you, Cain. I am Zevran."[/color] A courteous little bastard, that's what Zevran was known as. He did a little bow of the head to acknowledge Cain. "Oh, good ser--it is no good talking about 'debt' in your condition! I was eager to help."[/color] In truth, Zevran liked the sound of 'debt'. He could have a recruit right here, if he healed up good and could use those fine blades properly. If anything, he could take those blades, though he would feel a tad guilty. And he neglected to include the fact that the reason he was so inclined to help was because he was bored out of his mind merely travelling through the Kocari Wilds. Something else stood out about this man; his name. Zevran swore he'd heard it before, somewhere, for some significant reason. Normally, it wasn't names that stood out for Zevran; he remembered faces (especially pretty faces...) and he'd certainly never seen this face before. It was on the tip of his tongue, and he racked his brains for the connection as he began a gradual, discrete interrogation of his new companion. "You're awfully hurt, Cain--I can't let a man I just saved bleed to death! I think I have some bandages, or something you might find useful..."[/color][/size][/blockquote] |
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Post by cain on May 9, 2011 16:51:23 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][cs=2][atrb=style, width: 550px; background: #4A4344 url(http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs43/i/2009/099/a/6/Abstract_0003_by_AvanteGardeArt.jpg); border: 2px dashed #dc143c, bTable]I believe in NOTHING, not in peace and not in war I believe in NOTHING, but the truth of who we are |
[/div][/td][/tr] [tr][td][atrb=style, background: #E18B6B; padding: 8px; border-top: 2px solid #800517; border-bottom: 2px solid #800517; border-right: 2px solid #800517; opacity: 0.9] "You're welcome. The least I could do."
An elf with a good sense of humanity, or elfity, whatever it was in their case, was definitely rare to come by. And it seemed that, by luck, Cain had just come across one of them. Elves here in Thedas always despised the humans, for the way they were treated and in the case of the Dalish Elves, sometimes hunted down too. After all, with the history the two races had, it would be a miracle if they held no bad blood towards each other. Cain would only smile at his reply. Grateful was he then to the maker for this meeting, even at this kind of circumstances.
Still, Cain had to admit he was impressed at how skilled the elf had been in taking down the darkspawn who were at least a head taller than he was. Smooth movements, graceful strikes, all pinpointed at vital points, the same ones Cain had been taught to strike. He could not help but feel an uncomfortable gut feeling, but as with the earlier thought, he failed to entertain it.
"A pleasure to meet you, Cain. I am Zevran. Oh, good ser--it is no good talking about 'debt' in your condition! I was eager to help."
Zevran, huh? That was definitely a name that Cain was never going to forget. He had saved his life, and Cain owed him so much now, he fully accepted that. Even mercenaries had their code of honor, after all. Of course, first thing's first, Cain would have to tend to his injuries and recover his strength. He was simply in on condition to fight, much less help Zevran. The elf then approached him with another helpful offer.
"You're awfully hurt, Cain--I can't let a man I just saved bleed to death! I think I have some bandages, or something you might find useful..."
Cain looked up at the man, before letting out a soft bloody grin, as he jerked his head towards the elf's own shoulder, where an arrow stuck out, blood still slowly oozing through the wound. What an odd fellow, Zevran was.
"I would be really grateful for that, but don't you think it would be best you handle that wound first? My injuries may be more dire than yours, but it would be best for both of us if you kept yourself as healthy as possible. We're not out of danger yet, after all. This place is littered with darkspawn."
Of course, there were pauses and coughs in between, but let's bother not with so much detail. At the end of it, Cain adjusted himself slightly, letting his buttocks slide further down the ground, allowing himself a deep sigh of relief as he did. His body ached, but more in a numb way. He was bleeding, after all, and not to mention exhausted. He was slowly losing energy, and at that moment could barely stand on his own, much less walk. They were, actually, pretty much trapped there for the moment until Cain's wounds were healed.
For one, dragging him to a different spot would nonetheless leave a trail for the darkspawn to follow. Erasing all traces was something Cain knew how to do, but not when he was injured as he was now. Also, he doubted Zevran would be able to move quickly enough with a larger man like him as dead weight. He sighed.
What trouble he was, really. [/td] [td][atrb=style, width: 150px; vertical-align: top;] Tagged: Zevran Arainai
Song: Meant To Live, by Switch Foot
Words: 607
Notes: ... Sorry for the bad post. Not much I can do, honestly. xD designed by FLOU / CAIN
lyrics taken from 100 suns, by 30 SECONDS TO MARS. [/td] [/tr][/table][/center] |
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Post by Zevran Arainai on May 10, 2011 18:22:04 GMT -5
[ooc: it's fine ^^ sorry if I don't post right away these next few days...I have a big presentation due soonish, so I'm trying to get things done and over with  ]
Zevran didn't mean to be so cruel, but it was painful to hear Cain speak.
Not in the sense that he had no desire to speak to him or whatnot; but the man's condition was so dire, every other word or so he painfully paused or hacked up what Zevran thought was going to be a vital organ. It was difficult to stay patient with the man, half crouching, half standing, bleeding, trying desperately to be strong, but Zevran could handle it.
"I would be really grateful for that, but don't you think it would be best you handle that wound first? My injuries may be more dire than yours, but it would be best for both of us if you kept yourself as healthy as possible. We're not out of danger yet, after all. This place is littered with darkspawn."
It was then Zevran remembered his shoulder, realised the blood dripping from the wound, and felt a jabbing pain that adrenaline had washed away for a moment. He winced slightly, and extracted the arrow with a small grunt. Grabbing a small piece of cloth from his belt, he wrapped it around his shoulder and tied it, swiftly taking care of the injury with clear custom to a wound. "Well, I'm taken care of. Now let's take a look at your condition."
Cain had finally sat down, and Zevran followed him, pulling out various objects he'd collected or been given for his mission from his belt pack and a sack kept next to his bow and quiver. Unfortunately, it was small; the bandages were low in number, and he only had a few health poultices. No matter; compassion was something an assassin could feel, especially when interested in something in return.
Cain sighed. Zevran looked up, and handed him a poultice. "I've been wandering around this place for a couple of hours now," He told him, unravelling the wrap of bandages. "The darkspawn don't seem to like me very much--I didn't see a single one until I came across you. you'll be fine in my company." He grinned, hoping his humour would lighten Cain's state. He knew their location wasn't the best, but the light...the shade of the big tree Cain was leaning against...with a few branches shifted or added, they could probably stay here through the night unseen. "This place looks fine, with some adjustments. Camouflage. We can manage to set up a small camp."
Zevran searched the body of one darkspawn, producing another poultice. Kicking around another, he found a healing salve to put on the bandages. Things looked fairly promising as he found a slightly dirty but still usable stack of bandages on another corpse, and gave them to Cain.
"Here, I can look at that for you..." [/blockquote] |
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Post by cain on May 12, 2011 5:52:56 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][cs=2][atrb=style, width: 550px; background: #4A4344 url(http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs43/i/2009/099/a/6/Abstract_0003_by_AvanteGardeArt.jpg); border: 2px dashed #dc143c, bTable]I believe in NOTHING, not in peace and not in war I believe in NOTHING, but the truth of who we are |
[/div][/td][/tr] [tr][td][atrb=style, background: #E18B6B; padding: 8px; border-top: 2px solid #800517; border-bottom: 2px solid #800517; border-right: 2px solid #800517; opacity: 0.9] "Well, I'm taken care of. Now let's take a look at your condition."
At least, then, Cain would not feel so bad if his welfare had been made a higher priority than the elf's own. Cain had pretty much been an independent mercenary all his life. He trusted no one. He looked to no one. And he traveled with no one. That all kinda changed, though, but it was simply to sudden a change in lifestyle to actually completely change Cain's own personality. He simply disliked the attention. After all, with his shadowed history with the Crows and all, Cain would rather not set those blades upon himself. Although, with his recent acts, he was getting close to it.
Of course, he was not aware that Zevran here was an Antivan Crow, despite all the clues that suggested it. His fighting style. His equipment. His silver tongue.
As he handed him the poultice, Cain would hold it in his left hand, before glancing down at his armor. It was supposedly dark gray with red outlines, but now it was mostly red. What a mess. This was going to take quite a while to clean up. And his sword too. Better do it soon. Otherwise, they would just start to rust. Making good use of the poultice then.
After that comment on how useful their surroundings could be, Cain himself gave a soft scan, and agreed with the man. This was a rather closed spot. With enough adjustments, they could be made difficult, even to a trained night eye. However, the smell of blood was another matter. Cain could only hope that the stench of the swamp itself would cloud over the scent. As Zevran cleared up the bodies of the darkspawn, Cain allowed himself a request.
"Hey, Zevran? Could you help me get my dagger? It's embedded into the chest of your last kill."
Soon enough, the resourceful elf had managed to find sufficient, though not top-quality, medical resources for Cain. With that, Cain used his left hand to unlatch his armor, making it easier to pull it apart, then. His right arm itself was a complete set, so that had to be slid out. The torso could be opened up by latches at the lower ribs, which was what Cain too unlocked. His left arm held no armor, though, save a shoulder paulding and a gauntlet. He slid his belt off, letting his waist armor be pulled down to his knees, revealing the wound on his leg. Underneath the armor, he was clad in a brown tunic and a pair of dark brown pants.
It was then that he remembered quite an unusual fact about Celyn, his old elven companion. He had been homosexual, and had always shied away from Cain. He looked up at Zevran. Was he, too, like Celyn? Cain hoped not...
"You were not from the battle of Ostagar, were you? [/td] [td][atrb=style, width: 150px; vertical-align: top;] designed by FLOU / CAIN
lyrics taken from 100 suns, by 30 SECONDS TO MARS. [/td] [/tr][/table][/center] |
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Post by Zevran Arainai on May 12, 2011 22:13:32 GMT -5
[ooc: sorry, this is going to be quick ^^ I have stuff that is being worked on, but I don't want to leave Cain just lying there...  ]
Maker's breath, Cain was a mess. Zevran didn't want to say that, but he certainly thought it. He was most definitely not squeamish, but all the blood coating the armour...Perhaps it wasn't disgust as much as it was pity. Hovering on the thin line between life and death; if Cain thought he was dead, then he would surely die. Zevran had seen one too many cases of that where good assassins got bad wounds and gave up hope.
Cain seemed like he was a fighter, though--he would push out until the end. Even if the end was soon.
It felt odd fearing for the worst for someone he'd barely met, barely should feel compassion for. But Zevran was a friendly elf; he'd always offered pleasant relations with anyone, and this seemed like a crucial place for friendly relations. Cain didn't seem so open to people, and what better place to start than with the King of Courtesying, the benevolent bastard himself...Zevran.
"Hey, Zevran? Could you help me get my dagger? It's embedded into the chest of your last kill."
The casual tone in Cain's voice pleased Zevran. Hopefully, the man was loosening up. Zevran nodded in response, and kicked the darkspawn closest to Cain in search for the weapon.
"Ah, here it is." Zevran pulled it out of the corpse, and tried to examine it without obvious scrutiny. It looked familiar somehow--he'd surely seen blades similar somewhere...It was on the tip of his tongue, and he couldn't remember. He handed it to Cain, who was carefully removing his armour.
The torso piece, gone...shoulders, arms, bare...legs, nothing but a pair of worn, brown pants...Zevran snapped himself out of the stare before becoming obvious. Was he interested already? It usually took a few drinks or a nice conversation starter that got Zevran interested--not a wounded victim whom he'd just saved and was trying to nurse back to health. Although, that was pretty sexy in a cute sort of way--
Zevran scolded himself lightly. If he developed interest in every single man from here to Antiva and back again, he would face troubles (mainly because he wasn't yet taking into consideration the girls that would surely be throwing themselves at his feet). Zevran jumped about, lost interest, found another, and then repeated the whole process often.
Cain had said something, or was in the middle of saying something. Zevran hoped he could catch it.
"You were not from the battle of Ostagar, were you?"
"Um--no, oh no. I'm just passing through, passed through Ostagar this morning. I'm a traveller, no where near devoted enough to stand in an organised line and fight." There he was, glancing at his chest, his legs...muscular, from fighting, most likely. Zevran liked that...
"I'm sorry, your wounds are..." Zevran sucked in his breath, focusing once more. "...horrible; they look as painful as hell. Here, I can help you put on the bandages if you're having trouble."
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Post by cain on May 13, 2011 2:55:32 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][cs=2][atrb=style, width: 550px; background: #4A4344 url(http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs43/i/2009/099/a/6/Abstract_0003_by_AvanteGardeArt.jpg); border: 2px dashed #dc143c, bTable]I believe in NOTHING, not in peace and not in war I believe in NOTHING, but the truth of who we are |
[/div][/td][/tr] [tr][td][atrb=style, background: #E18B6B; padding: 8px; border-top: 2px solid #800517; border-bottom: 2px solid #800517; border-right: 2px solid #800517; opacity: 0.9] "Ah, here it is."
Cain glanced up halfway through his struggle to remove his armor. It was certainly not easy, having just one weak hand to do it, but he was doing well nonetheless. Of course, the return of Sica to his possession served to give him both a distraction and a small break. He took the knife from Zevran, giving him a nod of thanks, before keeping the blade in its sheathe, on his right thigh. And with that, he would finish up removing his armor. Having the weight being lifted from his shoulder sent a sigh of relief from Cain.
True, he had gotten so used to the armor that it seemed almost weightless to him, but at that moment, he was too weak and hurt to handle carrying such a weight. He needed to get it off, for the moment.
"Um--no, oh no. I'm just passing through, passed through Ostagar this morning. I'm a traveller, no where near devoted enough to stand in an organised line and fight."
Cain glanced up at Zevran. He had passed through Ostagar this morning? And not come across a single darkspawn? Had the Blight seriously just marched through Ostagar, leaving it in its state of chaos, littered with corpses? Cain furrowed his eyebrows. The thoughts of Zita and Celyn's bodies on the ground sent a shiver down Cain's spine, the mercenary now eager to go back there and make sure, for himself, that the two were still alive. If it was as empty as Zevran suggested, it should be a safe trip. Should be.
"I'm sorry, your wounds are... horrible; they painful as hell. Here, I can help you put on the bandages if you're having trouble."
Then, he noticed it. The way Zevran looked at him. It was almost a familiar gesture. It reminded him for Celyn. Cain mentally grinned. So, Zevran was, if Cain guessed correctly, pretty much like Celyn, huh? Well, interesting enough. Cain himself had gotten used to Celyn, so Zevran's reaction towards his body was no surprise, nor was it awkward for the man.
"Well, I don't want to trouble you any more than I already have, but I can't do much exactly with just one hand. Thank you once again." [/td] [td][atrb=style, width: 150px; vertical-align: top;] Tagged: Zevran Arainai
Song: N/A
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Notes: Too lazy to count words. This board needs a word counter. >_> designed by FLOU / CAIN
lyrics taken from 100 suns, by 30 SECONDS TO MARS. [/td] [/tr][/table][/center] |
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Post by Zevran Arainai on May 14, 2011 12:33:03 GMT -5
[ooc: Gah! Typos in my last post! *quickly fixes* Uber short, sorry...]
Zevran saw Cain making eye contact, and began doing as any good assassin would do--take note of the details. Cain furrowed his eyebrows at the mention of Ostagar. Zevran saw worry and pain in his eyes--not for himself. So Ostagar was a sore subject for Cain; must be where he got all those wounds. Zevran decided now was not the time to press into any thoughts or memories about that Cain might have.
"Well, I don't want to trouble you any more than I already have, but I can't do much exactly with just one hand. Thank you once again."
So, Cain liked Zevran, and for one reason or another, whether for companionship or healing and self-benefit, he wanted Zevran to stay around. The elf was fine with that. He liked being alone, but there was always the wonderful feeling that someone needed him. And Cain's condition surely needed someone else.
And then Zevran looked again at Cain. He had a content, or amused, expression in his brown eyes. For his sake, Zevran hoped it was something that could distract Cain from Ostagar, keep his mind out of worse-case-scenarios. It was horrible to mull over something, but even worse if that something never actually happened.
Suddenly, Zevran realised it was him.
He was the source of the amusement, the distraction. Cain had seen Zevran gazing at him. Even better, it hadn't made him blush and back away. So many fine, handsome young men had turned to mush when they saw Zevran looking their way, much to the elf's disappointment. He couldn't help it if he found beauty in everything, everyone, no matter the gender, and it upset him when people seemed awkward or afraid of Zevran's way of life. Perhaps the assassin part, yes; hate is very hard to understand. But love? Everyone should be able to comprehend love.
Zevran danced with words. Whether it was seduction or threats, he played with his vocabulary and pronunciation, rolling the syllables around and tossing out words. He always did this, slightly, never too much without a particular reason. Now, however, when he saw Cain's recognition, he knew it was time to dance.
"Ah, but one hand can be much more useful than none, correct? And you have two more; mine. I'm sure that with a combination of the both and determination, we'll be much better off than if it was just your two hands."
Zevran smiled. He hoped his little speech had acheived something. |
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