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[ Another night he passes by the battlements, another night he forces himself to choose. Up the stairs to stare out and tempt himself and fate- or across the courtyard to someone that might take his mind off the siren's call of the void. He hasn't the focus for Mia nor the humor for any of the Dalish- all of his rough, snarled edges brought to the surface in Alistair's absence.

Chasing him off hadn't been as helpful as he'd assumed.

Before he can think better of it- before he can think at all? He finds himself at Bull's doorstep and knocks. Of everyone he knows, Bull judges the least. That more than anything else is what he needs. ]

[ The red lyrium in Emprise du Lion has been something of an issue. They've seen that already. Staying out there for long stretches of time isn't something he really wants to risk, and letting people return to the keep to clear their heads seems the best way of dealing with whatever effect it might be having on them.

So he's back, for a time. A few days respite before heading back out, with the promise of a dragon or two when he returns.

He hadn't been expecting company tonight, however. With a thoughtful furrow to his brow, Bull moves to open the door, but seeing who his visitor is? Suddenly, it makes a lot more sense. He hasn't seen much of Zevran since their return from the Crow's stronghold.

The elf looks...well. About like you'd expect, considering. ]

Hey.

Toro.

[ The problem with coming here without time to think on it leaves him with no real excuse save a desire for company- and even that he is not certain how to ask for. He's never had to. Eye covered by a leather patch and swimming in one of Alistair's shirts, he feels a poor sight indeed. ]

I- may I come in?

[ The door is pushed open further without question, a clear invitation. He doesn't need a reason, none he needs to say out loud, at any rate.

Bull can guess. ]

[ He ducks in at the invitation, huddling off to one side, eyes flicking from the door to the windows- spaces he'd examined the first time he'd come here for signs of traps, of entry but now- now it's less hidden, more frantic. ]

[ He lets him, watches him search out every dark corner. Telling him it's safe means little now. He does shut the door, however, and head to light another candle. Fewer shadows might make it easier for him.

When that's done, one hand lifts to beckon him closer. Plenty of room on the bed for him to sit, with no obligation if he'd rather not. ]

[ The light helps. Checking every corner for a trap- even though he knows beyond the shadow of a doubt that Bull wouldn't wish him harm- helps. Satisfied somewhat he slips in close, tucking himself against Bull's side without a word.

He's tense for a moment as the heat sinks in, the solid thrum of Bull's pulse- and he relaxes. Inch by inch. ]

It is worse on quiet nights. [ He really should not have chased Alistair away, but then the warden would have to endure whatever ill, twitching humor this is. ]

[ There's a grunt of agreement. ]

Yeah. You sit alone with your own thoughts long enough, it all comes back to you.

[ One massive arm moves, slides around Zevran's thin shoulders. They could come now, come for him again, but they'd have a Hell of a time getting through him to do it. ]

But most of them out there, they won't know what it's like. How easy it really is to get inside someone's head.

I have seen blood magic before. What it does but I have never...

[ It is one thing to see it. Another to experience it. He presses his face into Bull's shoulder, taking deep, even breaths. He is here. He is not on that hook. ]

[ One hand lifts, cups behind his head, stroking quietly. If tears come, if Zevran wants to spill it out, he's not going to find judgement here. ]

I've heard about it. Bet the stories don't even come close to how fucked up it really is.

It was the same room at the start but- I was not on the hook. [ He has told no one that had been there, that saw the aftermath this. Sherlock knew but Sherlock didn't care. ] There would be me, one other, and a knife.

[ At first it was Rinna- and he knew her to be dead and knew well enough it was a trick. ]

Made you choose?

[ Would have been the easiest way to break a person down, particular one that had allowed himself personal bonds. Something the Crows would see as weakness. Easily exploitable. ]

You die in a dream and you wake, yes?

[ Turning the knife on himself had been easy at first. ]

I wake, they glower, I laugh- I try to laugh and I am put under again. Another target, and poison. Another choice.

[ And that had been his lot. For days. A man could be brave enough to slice his own throat once. But after a time?

It would have taken its toll. And had. He'd seen it in his eyes on the ride back, that certainty that this was another illusion, that the moment would come again.

That steadying hand slips to his back again. Breathe. ]

How long they keep it up for?

After awhile it was no longer the room. It'd be the rooftops of Antiva- the Deep Roads under Ferelden, Skyhold. Different faces, different choices. Alistair, Rinna, Taleslin, Leliana- Morrigan and her child, Beleth, you- they let my mind choose the target. [ His laugh is low, crackling and bitter. ] At least they did not know who I put as the victim.

And then the rescues. I on the hook and those come for me- and it would be fine for a time. I would be healed, all would be well and again. The dagger, the venom, a pond, a cliff- a choice. They were in the middle of yet one more when Alistair took me off the hook.

Must have taken a while for it to sink in.

[ Longer still to forget those faces in that situation. He knows. He barely meets anyone anymore without considering at a glance the best way to disarm, to hurt, to kill. He's had to. Acting on it's another thing entirely, but...

Having that echo back to you in your mind, relieving it, having that possibility laid in front of you? He likely can't see any of them without remembering vividly what that was like. If he's kept his distance, Bull doesn't wonder why. ]

There are nights I wake and expect to be on the hook again.

[ Or he expects a knife to be pressed into his hand, a choice to be made. Better to remove himself from the situation. One more day and he might have cut Alistair's throat just to be done with it. ]

I go to the battlements and I think- I try to not. It upset Alistair. I kept waking and looking at him and wondering if now wasn't when I was meant to break his neck.

Gonna need resolution before you can let it go.

[ Should have left some of the bastards alive. If Zevran had the opportunity to kill them himself, it might have severed whatever tie he still felt to that place, that moment.

Now it just hangs there, a loose end needing to be tied up. Bull frowns, though his palm shifts, rubbing steady circles against Zev's back. ]

They didn't have one planned besides killing you, I'm guessing.

The Grandmaster of the First Talon was to come collect me, or so I read. They wished to make an example of me.

[ The greatest traitor the crows have ever known- of course they wished to make a ruin of him. ]

They most likely meant to drive me to the point of slitting my own throat before an audience. Teach the cuchillos to keep their place and be glad for it.

[ He squeezes his eyes shut, leaning back into that hand. ]

We argued- Alistair and I. He's gone to the Emprise.

Not any better on your own, though.

[ Which explained the visit. A quiet hum followed as he titled his head, watched Zevran uncurl slightly. ]

And it still feels like waiting for the other boot to drop, doesn't it?

[ Building towards a climax that big? Even if they lost their grip on him, the Crows could be sure he'd carry those scars for life. Might still fall prey to their plans.

Not here. He's not breaking anyone's neck, not cutting anyone's throat. Maybe there's safety in that knowledge. If the urge strikes, Bull stands a better chance of subduing him without coming to harm. ]

No. Too quiet. Too much room to question...

[ If this is yet one more iteration of their dreams. Bull, though, they had never quite gotten right if only for how exhausted Zevran had been by the time he arrived. There is no world, no life where he might be able to take him unawares.

No way he could kill him like this. ]

Bad enough when I knew the dagger was coming. Now I am waiting for the killing blow.

Know a little of what that's like. Not a good place to be.

[ There's not so much as a flicker behind his eye, just the certainty there. ]

Every shadow hides an agent. Every person you think you know? Might be another knife waiting for you to turn your back.

Considering how much they were offering for my head the last time I was in Antiva? I am surprised no one had decided it would be worth the risk. It'd be easier for them to do so, now.

[ Down an eye, not sleeping well, alone in his room, unarmed more often than not, shaken to the bone, uncertain of his reality-

He's easy pickings. Only a mix of respect, fear, and loathing for the Crows kept those he brought with him from doing the same. ]

And yet you're still here.

[ More or less, in any sense of the word. But he could come back from this. It'd have to be his choice, and things would never be the same again.

But it was possible. There was fight in him still. ]

Had you not come, I would not be.

[ A near thing, that. How much longer could he have held out? ]

After Crows, Before Dragons, Action

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