keeperofmagi | Fade Rift Inbox

It's an ungodly hour, but that's the best time for these sort of conversations. The room's not even trapped, the lock a simple thing to get through, and even finessing the sword blade from where it's resting close to her bed? Not so difficult. That weapon he tucks off to the side before perching at the foot of Nerva's bed, head tilted in the dark. He lets the sound of flint and steel striking to light the wick of the nearby lantern wake her.

She's not a heavy sleeper - but she's no match for Zevran's stealth - so when she wakes, it is bolt-upright from dead sleep, her heart pounding as her hand went immediately for her sword - and found nothing. So instead her fist gripped air, her chest heaving as she glared at the shadow on the edge of her bed, eyes lit only by the lantern as it flickered to life.

She wasn't dead. That was a good starting point - most assassins don't go to the trouble to wake up their marks.

"Who are you and what to you want?" She snapped.

"My name is Zevran- and what I want? Is a word." Or five, truly. He set the lantern down to the left of him and just as he was aware of how to hold himself in the light to be most appealing? He was aware of how to sit in the shadows to appear menacing, dangerous. He kept his tone light, his hands bare of any blade; though that might change.

"You've already made a name for yourself among the mages and, truly, I do not care about that. But you're starting to make yourself known among the elves and there? I take issue." Several, even.

"Zevran." The name meant absolutely nothing to her, but she repeated it, with a heavy tone, as if memorizing it. The same way she was memorizing his face.

"Should I care what name I make for myself with anyone?" She asked, her voice firm despite the very real danger she was in, and which she was currently assessing as quickly as possible. At least the adrenaline meant she was very, very awake.

"Is this about Beleth?"

"You do not strike me as one to do so, no- though that is something you should be more mindful of. People have powerful and dangerous friends, Nerva." And Beleth happened to be one of his. He smiled, voice light and conversational. "It is at that. I thought that a little experience with how unsettling finding someone in a place you felt safe might be a valuable lesson indeed."

"I am not afraid of the powerful and dangerous, or their friends," She said, though she was maybe shoring it up a little more than was accurate - after all, she was currently in her night clothes, gripping at the sheets, without a blade, with a very deadly, angry elf seated on her bed post.

It was entirely bluster, but she clung to it as closely as she could.

"I would have thought learning to keep from spying on your allies was a more important lesson."

"All you have taught her is not to be caught- and that is a lesson she has learned well. My concern lies less with what prompted it and more that you thought you had the right to drag an elf from their bed and put them to manual labor as though they were one of you Tevinter slaves." Now a knife made an appearance, a thin, sharp blade that he used to trim his nails, voice even and droll.

Glimmering in the light as he picked at the rough edges (there were few) of his nails. Clearly his cuticles needed an oiling. "That is not your place."

It was anger building, at first, but it was the words - rather than the knife - that cut deep. The mention of Tevinter a firmer slap in her face than he could possibly have known, and which caused her to blanch slightly as she pulled herself upright.

"I am no Vint," She said, too quickly and too sharply to be a normal reflex. It wasn't her place, he was right - though she still felt like she had done the right thing - done it cooly and precisely - even if she could not actually put her mind to find what had given her the authority to do it. (Nothing had. No one had. She had thought it right and had done it, under no one's authority save her own.)

"I had no measure of her - had no idea what damage she could potentially cause. So I sought to take one." It wasn't quite the truth - or, at least, it wasn't the whole truth, but it was as much of one that she was aware of, for herself.

"Perhaps if the templars were not quite so secretive she would not have thought to listen in. The mages have ever held their meetings open to the public, yes?" Again, not his concern, as long as no one starts killing each other over nothing in the barracks he could not possibly care less; but it seemed a place in which to slide the dagger and twist.

The visceral reaction to Tevinter, now. An even better target. "Like one would cattle, I assume. What is the value of an elf these days, mm? Of course it would fall to you to be the best judge."

"Don't be stupid," she snapped, grabbing at her blankets and drawing them up as if they would be some better form of armour - or at least something to hold on to.

"The fate of the templars remains in question, and the voices of the mages drown out ours by a fair number here. We had every right to discuss the future and our options in confidence." She completely ignored the question of the values of elves - it brought too quickly to mind just how much her parents had been worth, in the end.

"And the voices of humans drown out those of elves in the Inquisition by far more; yet we do not take such hasty action against those we see to have wronged us. Even now I sit here and I have not yet slit your throat, yes?" Tempting as the thought may be- it would solve nothing, start a man hunt, create more tension where he would have less.

Cutting the knot was no solution to this. "Have your secrets as you like. But do not man handle elves. It brings to mind such awful thoughts- has the Chantry not taken enough from them?"

"Nor did I slit hers," She said, her voice as firm as she could make it, holding her ground despite how little she had to stand on.

"I have no grudge with the elves, Zevran," She said, her voice slow and collected, though she was obviously still tightly on edge. "I'm no slaver, or bogey man, come to terrify you into obedience. I would have done the same if it were a human on the roof, or a dwarf."

Okay, maybe not a dwarf. She really did give a lot of leeway to dwarves.

"As you had no inkling to her measure, Nerva, nor do I have one of yours." The knife vanished, though, and that was not nothing. He leaned forward, eyes hard and locked upon hers. "No slaver, no Vint, but you are a human and one of principal. Be mindful in the future. She has friends less patient than I."

The threat rankled, but she somehow managed to hold her tongue about it, despite everything. Perhaps the awareness that the knife had finally gone away kept her from wanting to draw it back out again.

"I take it that means you are finished," She said instead, stiffly, still gripping the blankets.

"Offer your word and keep it, and I shall be satisfied." Zevran shrugged, moving back enough to grant Nerva her space. "If your vexation is truly something that is equal among the races, well, I shall be pleasantly surprised and extend my apologies."

"You have my word that I have no intention to harm the elves, nor will do so unless it is absolutely necessary for the safety of everyone." Which was as close a promise she could make. Especially with so many elves that were mages.

She didn't know what to do with the rest of his sentence, considering that it was oddly - cordial, considering the rest of his visit, and just kind of stared at him after her oath.

"That shall have to do. I must say, though, you are terribly sexy when giving your honor bound word. However did the other templars withstand your lovely scowling?" Job done, time to troll.

It was such an about-face that it left her blinking for a whole twenty seconds, staring blankly at him before the outrage finally caught up and she drew her breath in quick and sharp.

"Get. Out."

"Of course, mia Bella." He extingquished the lantern with a gesture and slunk back into the darkness, vanishing without a word.

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Wintermarch 2

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