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Zevran

The Black Shadow
Canon Character
DAO/DA2 Timeline
Posts
25
#1
((OOC: Cloudreach 10, 9:35, Jader))

The coin twirled against the table top, the tip of Zevran’s finger holding the sovereign upright in its dance. Amber eyes followed the circular and rhythmic pattern. Around the coin turned, a slight wobble at the apex of each circle. A tiny imperfection upon otherwise smooth wood, a divot in the table, caused the imbalance he observed. Or it could very well have been the woman under the table and the bob of her head.

La Belle Mort was a brothel on the edge of the docks in Jader. Zevran last left Jader years past a captive chained within the hold of a Crows’ ship by Ricmo, Taliesen’s twin brother. Ricmo sought revenge for his brother, for Rinna, for his unfortunate head of hair. Zevran managed to escape thanks to the gentle giant, Yannick. He never did find out what happened to his savior.

Ricmo, flanked by two blonde beauties, sat a table across the room. Deep in his cups wine and arrogance, the Crow failed to note Zevran in his shadow of the room. Soon enough, they would get reacquainted. For now, Zevran bided his time and sampled some of the establishment’s offerings.

The hour passed by, Zevran’s companion done and gone by the time Ricmo finally rose from his seat and disappeared into a room upstairs.

Zevran followed a few moments later, stopping a woman before she could enter the room Zevran knew to be Ricmo's. "The man in the room is an old friend." His finger traced the under-curve of her breast, mouth spun into an exquisite smile. "I wish to surprise him," he explained before leaning into. Teeth nipped at the woman's ear, whispered words spoken, "The purse upon my belt. Take it in gratitude."

Eager fingers freed the purse. Another transaction completed.

Upon opening the door to the room, he found Ricmo naked and on his stomach atop the bed. Practice had taught Zevran had to disguise his steps when so desired. He padded lightly upon the ground, as if the woman Ricmo awaited. It would not have mattered. The Crow had fallen asleep.

Had Ricmo really grown so sloppy? Zevran considered, very briefly, leaving him there and tracking his prey on another day when there was more of a challenge. Zev had grown so tired and bored of Jader, however. The sooner he took care of Ricmo, the sooner he might leave.

Nimble fingers worked the muscles of Ricmo's shoulders, gently awakening the man. A contented sigh passed his lips before he murmured, "That feels so good."

"Taliesen always thought so," Zevran responded with a playful lilt.

Ricmo tensed immediately and jerked away from Zevran. His eyes widened at the sight of the elf. "Zevran," he sneered.

"I heard you were in Jader and I thought we might reunite," Zevran quipped. "We had such a wonderful time together here last time, did we not?" Jader had been where Ricmo sparred Zevran his hands and his face, but little else. Pangrazio had wanted Zevran's face; Ricmo had needed his hands to pen a letter to Leliana. The day after the letter was written and they had sailed out of Jader, Ricmo had his fun, breaking one finger a time on the hour for eight hours. Leliana was much kinder when she broke his hand anew at Vigil's Keep so that Anders might repair what was done. Zevran's fingers still ached on particularly wet and cold days.

This was not one of those days and he reached for the dagger fixed to his back. The daggers Aedan gave him all those years ago were gone, taken by Ricmo. Zevran did not see them in the room, no doubt stored as a trophy in Antiva City or on Ricmo's ship.

He would not toy with Ricmo had him. Zevran was not cruel and Ricmo knew that. Resignation narrowed Ricmo's eyes and anger contorted his mouth as he spat, “You never deserved her.”

No bravado present only acceptance, Zevran nodded and said, “I know.”

A single sweep of the blade cut Ricmo from ear to ear and he tumbled to the ground, a pool of red puddling beneath Ricmo, the blood seeping from his neck. An image from the past drawn into the present. The bodies different, the image the same, the blood still upon Zevran’s hands and touching the tip of a boot.
 
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