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Reunited And It Feels So Good [Closed]

Isabela

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#1
[[OOC: 6th Firstfall, evening]]
Zevran

Some merchants were honest folk who simply wanted to make enough money through their hard-learned trade to support their family and maybe have a nice home. Isabela thought their vision boringly limited, but there was something to be said for being a decent person who didn’t screw over the people who worked for them and kept their focus on a goal. However most merchants she’d ever met, and particularly in Kirkwall, would gouge every last coin from you and take a finger or two while they were at it. Isabela didn’t usually begrudge them that either. After all, it was what she’d done every time she’d haggled over a haul. More coin meant more drinks, more fun, more freedom.

But every once in a while she came across an asshole so incredibly puffed up with their own success that they were unbearable. She’d had the misfortune of running into this particular motherless son of a wyvern earlier the same day, while trying to get rid of some of the loot from her last heist with Josc. Not only had he refused to pay any more than the bare minimum for the valuables she was offering, he’d also insulted her to her face and then he’d refused to give back the necklace she’d given him to look over. First he’d claimed that she’d been mistaken, then he said she must have absent-mindedly tucked it somewhere on her person and forgotten about it (and leeringly offered to check), and then outright threatened to call the guard on her and have her canned for fraud. While a few days cooling it in the cells never spelled much worse for Isabela than boredom, being arrested for a crime she hadn’t even committed was simply too insulting. And she didn’t feel like explaining to Aveline exactly why she’d refused to be taken in and beaten the shit out of her guards in the process.

So she’d stalked off, with the odious man suggesting that she should come back later when the shop was quieter. Oh, she was going to do that, but not in a manner he’d like. She was getting that necklace back and a few other odds and ends to make up for the insult.

Isabela sauntered confidently through the Merchant’s Quarter, slinking into the shadows only when she got within a few streets of the shop. No sense in being spotted by some entry-level sentry. It was only fun being chased when she already had the loot in her hands.
 

Zevran

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#2
A life outside of the Crows did not preclude Zevran from taking on jobs suited to his particular talents. For as dire and depressing as the city of Kirkwall could be, there was easy coin to be made as a result. So many people. So many grudges. So many contracts.

One particular contract saw his return to Kirkwall. A nobleman from Starkhaven had tarnished the honor of another nobleman from Tantervale and… Zevran had stopped listening there. Coin was coin and his lifestyle required a certain amount of it for him to flourish. And who was Zevran if not a man that enjoyed a good flourish?

His last trip to Kirkwall had proved rather unsuccessful when it came to reunited with his old friend of Isabela and no one was more surprised than spot that very familiar and exquisite bosom across the a courtyard within the Merchant’s Quarter just before she disappeared into the shelter of shadow.

Someone was up to no good. What a better way to pass an evening?

Not wishing to draw attention to whatever machinations Isabela had planned for her and now his evening, Zevran waited a respectful pause before moving in the direction he saw her disappear. The evening hour meant less people milled about visiting the various merchants peppered throughout the quarter. Less eyes to witness him as he did much as Isabela did minutes before, dropping into stealth he wore as easily as the most comfortable of boots.

She was not hard for him to follow and he made his way toward her, waiting on what he deemed the perfect moment to reveal himself. When the time arrived, the pair within an alley between two buildings, he murmured, “Fancy meeting you here."
 

Isabela

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#3
She only had a couple of streets left to navigate before reaching the shop. Isabela swaggered through an alleyway that served as a shortcut, knowing that anybody who attempted to accost her down here would be looking for their fingers within moments. She already had enough of a reputation that the usual cutpurses and cutthroats of Kirkwall knew better than to chance their luck with her, but there was always the chance that some newbie might think they were in with a shot. Despite her confident stride, she was ready for a fight.

So when she heard the first whispered syllables behind her, she was halfway to reaching for her daggers even while she was appreciating the skill with which her opponent had snuck up on her. Not many could be that soft-footed, and only when she’d completed her turn and the shadow had completed his sentence did she realise who it was. Her knife was already pointing at his throat by that point, and she grinned, laughing in genuine delight as she immediately grabbed the opportunity to tease. “You’re getting old, darling. You’d never have let me get within a hair of that before.”

More likely he’d known she wouldn’t go for the kill straightaway. He, more than anyone, knew that she wasn’t as entirely callous as she made out. Isabela sheathed her daggers. “Tell me, what brings you to this alleyway tonight? Don’t tell me you knew I’d be coming this way. If you’ve been watching my movements for a couple of days and not even said hello I’m going to be very disappointed.”

She was happy to see him; more than happy, she couldn’t have been more delighted if the Siren’s Call had manifested, whole and complete with a good crew, in the Kirkwall docks right in front of her. But she wasn’t the type to fling herself at anybody, no matter how dear they were to her, and she lounged against one wall of the alley, eyeing him up and down.

“At least you’re still as beautiful as ever. Fancy scuffing that pretty skin a little and giving me a helping hand?”
 

Zevran

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#4
Metal glinted within the shadow of the alley. The dagger drawn by Isabela at Zevran’s intrusion no surprise. He anticipated her reaction and stood still as the point of her blade aimed at the slender slant of his neck. A wide grin bloomed upon her lips, her laughter a compliment to her pleasure at his surprise. “You’re getting old, darling. You’d never have let me get within a hair of that before.”

A low rumble of a chuckle mixed with Isabela’s own amusement. “Blasphemous. I shall never get old.” His fingers rose in gesture to his profile. “Antivans, especially this one in particular, do not wrinkle. I only improve with age.”

Isabela returned her daggers to their sheaths. “Tell me, what brings you to this alleyway tonight? Don’t tell me you knew I’d be coming this way. If you’ve been watching my movements for a couple of days and not even said hello I’m going to be very disappointed.”

“While I do take great pleasure in watching your many,” mischief brightened his amber eyes, “movements, I have only just arrived in Kirkwall. We shall call it luck that I happened upon you this evening.”

Pulling back to press her side against a wall, Isabela gave Zevran a once over that might have made any other person blush. Zevran, rather, spread his arms out at his sides to ensure his friend had the best view possible. “At least you’re still as beautiful as ever. Fancy scuffing that pretty skin a little and giving me a helping hand?”

“As I said, I am like a fine vintage. The older, the better the taste,” flowed seamlessly in response. “You are looking,” his chin dipped back in gesture to Isabela, “rather buxom.”

The corners of his mouth pulled into a toothy and wide grin, “I am not the only person improving with age.” Much like Zevran, Isabela had come into her own over the years. Her own ship. Her own crew. Her own wardrobe of exquisitely tailored tops. She was more alluring than ever.

“Mmmmm,” he started, lips pressing together lightly. “I do appreciate a good scuffing. My hands are yours to command.” Knowing Isabela as Zevran did, he assumed a little breaking and entering would occur before the end of the evening. They might even rob a place too.
 

Isabela

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#5
“Blasphemous. I shall never get old.”

He joked, but Isabela did wonder sometimes if he would ever actually age. Since they had first met, he had gained maybe a faint line or two, no more. He was a beautiful man and time apparently appreciated his good looks enough to stay its hand for a while. “Antivans, especially this one in particular, do not wrinkle. I only improve with age.”

“Mmm, like those fine wines the nobles favour.” She grinned at him, teasing. “Or a cheese.” Both were best enjoyed when rolled around on the tongue a little before consumption – also apt, in this case. He’d taught her many things when she had still been contained in her golden cage, which she and the people she’d used them on since had great cause to thank him for.

He had only just arrived, so that mollified her, and then of course she invited him to join her for the evening. Like a work of art, a good heist was best enjoyed with another person to fully appreciate the process, and Zevran could add his own artistry to the evening. He also compared himself to a wine and appreciated her bosom for a moment. “I am not the only person improving with age. Mmmm. I do appreciate a good scuffing. My hands are yours to command.”

“I will most likely make full use of them before the night is through, darling.” She winked, and then indicated the end of the alleyway, which opened up onto a wide courtyard in front of the merchant’s house. “I have reparations to collect, as well as a little extra in payment for an insult. Not sure how many guards he might have roaming around, but he’s not so rich that he could afford enough for it to be a problem.” Not for two experts such as themselves, anyway. Isabela was a better captain than she was a hands-on thief but she wasn’t bad at that, either.

She set off ahead of Zevran, hips swaying for his benefit.

A solitary guard was on duty in front of the main door, pacing restlessly. Isabela had anticipated that. She sauntered straight up to him with a smile on her face. “Leo! How good to see you. It’s a shame you got stuck on duty tonight.”

The man had been distracted by the flow of her steps, and hadn’t yet looked up at her face. Subterfuge was not such an issue with this job, given that once the necklace was gone the merchant would know who had taken it back, but as he didn’t have a bill of sale to explain his ownership of it he’d have a tough time if he went to the guard. So Isabela didn’t make an effort to disguise herself but as the man started to lift his head, gaze catching at her bosom, and started to say “who are you?”, she swiftly thumped him over the head with the hilt of her dagger.

His keys were easily retrieved but it wasn’t wise to leave him in the open in case the alarm was raised before she was ready. “Help me roll him into the bush, Zev?”
 

Zevran

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#6
“I will most likely make full use of them before the night is through, darling,” Isabela offered with a wink. Flicking her chin in the direction of the alley’s end, she added, “I have reparations to collect, as well as a little extra in payment for an insult. Not sure how many guards he might have roaming around, but he’s not so rich that he could afford enough for it to be a problem.”

Guards were hardly ever a problem for Zevran. One did not become a guard because one was particularly talented in combat. One became a guard out of financial necessity or a desire to bully. Either way, whatever Isabela’s patron of the night had to offer would prove little challenge to the pair of them. Zevran was quite sure of that.

He was also quite sure he rather enjoyed the delectable manner in Isabela swung her hips as she headed off in seek of her due. One of his favorite pendulums of delight were her hips.

The guard pacing about the doorway Isabela approached certainly appeared to the type of guard in need of coin. There was a restlessness in his stepping that came to an end upon her approach. Who could pace when presented with such a luscious set of-- “Leo! How good to see you. It’s a shame you got stuck on duty tonight,” she offered, ever the cat that ate the canary in her smile.

Before the guard could much of a word in, Isabela clocked him on the head with the butt of her dagger sending the guard into a crumpled mass upon the ground. Zevran let out a light bit of laughter at the efficiency of it all.

Isabela made quick work of retrieving the guard’s keys. “Help me roll him into the bush, Zev?”

Zevran scoffed, inclining his head toward the keys in hand, “You did not want me to try to open the door?” Many things had changed over the years. Few things did not however. The magnificence of Isabela’s bosom and Zevran’s inability to rogue in a way most rogues could were just two.

Fake displeasure cast aside, he focused upon the most important task at hand and joined Isabela in a squat at the conked out guard’s side, “It does look like a fine bush for having a good roll in.” Always planning. Always pivoting. One should never turn one’s nose up to possibility!

With a little heavy breathing, more for show than effort, Zevran helped his dear friend hide the evidence of her guardly-assault behind a set of round bushes adjacent to the manor’s front door.
 

Isabela

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#7
Zevran, ever the devoted friend, paused in disposing of the unconscious guard to offer his services in unlocking the door, earning a hearty snort. His hands were quick and clever in oh so many ways, but when it came to locks he might have had better luck with his tongue than his fingers. Guards and maids could be lied their way past, tumblers and bolts remained immune to Zevran’s charms. Isabela would be insulted on his behalf if she didn’t find it so amusing. “I wouldn’t mind you trying. I can always enjoy the view for a few minutes.”

Rather than that, he joined her in examining the bush in which they would be hiding Leo, or whatever his real name was. It was well cultivated and clearly beloved by whatever gardeners the merchant employed to keep up the impression that he had taste, with all these flowing flowers and dangling ivy. As far as a clump of leaves went, it was quite pretty. And dense, affording decent cover to anything or anyone who might have a reason to lurk beneath it. Zevran agreed with her assessment. “It does look like a fine bush for having a good roll in.”

Isabela’s lips curved in a wicked smile. It would hardly be the first time they had done something similar while in the middle of an urgent task, usually just to lend a little spice to the situation, but the presence of the unconscious guard threw cold water on that idea. She was her own worst enemy sometimes. “There would be something really satisfying in defiling his bush with you, but unfortunately time is of the essence. Besides, I would rather little Leo here didn’t wake up to that. He might never recover.”

Also he might raise the alarm, which was a bugger.

Between the two of them they got the guard into the bush and relieved him of his keys, therefore saving Zevran from embarrassment at the hands of a door. Isabela slid the key in and got lucky first time – the door swung open almost silently, and no other guards immediately waited for them beyond that.

This was going so well that it immediately made Isabela suspicious.

However, keeping her guard up didn’t mean she couldn’t have fun. “Right, I reckon he’ll have it in his study. If he’s not there, feel like making use of the desk?”

Well, why waste a good friend and his skills?
 

Zevran

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#8
“There would be something really satisfying in defiling his bush with you, but unfortunately time is of the essence. Besides, I would rather little Leo here didn’t wake up to that. He might never recover.”

“Indeed,” Zevran agreed, his grin matching the impishness of Isabela’s. “He most certainly would never be the same again.” What person could if they were to witness such magnificence a two very talented rogues and one bush.

The pair managed to tuck Leo away and entered the house thanks to the key Isabela pilfered earlier. No guards were about, something that might have caused Zevran to be a bit suspicious were not how easily Leo had been duped. Men who left men such as Leo to guard their homes, tended not to be diligent with extra security.

“Right,” Isabela started, "I reckon he’ll have it in his study. If he’s not there, feel like making use of the desk?”

Mischief brightened the amber of Zevran’s eyes and he let out a throaty, but low chuckle. “I do have some correspondence that I have been meaning to catch up on.”

The area rug in the entry way dampened the sounds of their feet as the pair started off in what Zevran presumed was the direction of the study. “Perhaps I might show you a thing or two I’ve picked up..” Slender blonde brows raised ever so slightly, “...with a quill since we last met.” One should never let an opportunity go astray to continue one’s education after all.

They stopped just before a heavy and closed mahogany door. It was Zevran that went about opening the door this time, finding it very much unlocked. He was quite skilled at with such doors. The best even.
 

Isabela

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#9
With a promise of good things to come (herself amongst them, Zevran a close second), Isabela found the direction towards where the study seemed likely to be and they made their way over. Her footsteps were quietened by the carpet and if she hadn’t been actually watching Zevran she wouldn’t have known he was there at all. Up until he couldn’t resist teasing, of course. “Perhaps I might show you a thing or two I’ve picked up…with a quill since we last met.”

“If you don’t now I will be sorely disappointed.”

A door blocked their way, heavy and ornate. Pretty much every door around here was heavy and ornate but some of the other ones nearby looked fancier, suggesting that they were bedrooms. Isabela didn’t see what the point of decorating the outside of a personal space was, especially if it was one you were only going to use to sleep, but then she wasn’t a noble. As much as certain people had tried to make her one.

Zevran took the door this time, which swung open easily. She was all ready to congratulate him for his skill with unlocked doors in as inappropriate a manner as possible, when she became aware of a tiny snag.

Sitting behind the desk, his eyebrows almost at his eyeline and his eyes popping out of his face, was the merchant who had swindled her.

He had about half a second to react before Isabela threw herself across the room, vaulting over the desk and pressing a dagger to his neck. His mouth had been partway open, probably to call the guards, but only a strangled, outraged squeak came out.

She wasn’t actually going to kill him, if she could avoid it, but there was a distinct side benefit to getting the necklace back, and that was scaring the piss out of him. She glanced up at Zevran, to see if anybody was charging in through the door behind him, and then smiled at their accidental captive. “This could actually save us a lot of time, Ilvan. I was going to root around your house and pocket everything I could find, but if you can tell me where you’ve popped that necklace, you might even get the better deal out of this.”
 

Zevran

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#10
Who did not appreciate a good surprise party? The man sitting behind the desk. Pity.

Before he could protest at Zevran and Isabela’s thoughtful surprise visit, Isabela pounced, launching herself over the desk to press a dagger against the slope of his neck. Any words that might have been on the verge of edging out were blunted by the pressure of her blade.

“This could actually save us a lot of time, Ilvan,”
Isabela started. "I was going to root around your house and pocket everything I could find, but if you can tell me where you’ve popped that necklace, you might even get the better deal out of this.”

“I do so love it when you take control, Isabela,” Zevran admitted, lips spread into a winsome smile.

He stepped into the room, admittedly not with as much flair as Isabela. He might have been an assassin, but he was well-versed in good manners and one simply did not try to upstage such a performance as hers.

With the push of a hand, he shut the door behind him. There was no reason to give any random passer-by a free show. Some shows were best given privately. Some of Zevran and Isabela’s best work had been done behind closed doors; sometimes even on those closed doors.

He took up a position next to the door, arms crossing over his chest, manner relaxed. Were someone to enter now, Zevran would be sure to give them an appropriate greeting. Good manners and all.
 

Isabela

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#11
“I do so love it when you take control, Isabela.” Zevran smiled at her, completely at ease, and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. His movements were utterly silent and as graceful as ever. Isabela could entertain herself just watching him walk across a room sometimes, an activity she knew was reciprocated. But unfortunately there was no time to admire him at the moment; she had a squirming swindling merchant to terrify. Heartstabber poked his fleshy neck just enough to nick the skin. To give him his credit, Ilvan didn’t immediately wet himself the way some might have done, although he looked as though he was considering it. After a bit of stuttering, he managed to get some words out.

“I-I-I’ve sold it already. It’s gone.”

Isabela shrugged. “Okay, fine. Saves me finding another fence. Where’s the money that you got for the necklace? I’ll be taking that. I’m assuming you charged through the nose for it.”

“No! Wait, I didn’t sell it! It’s still here!”

Isabela raised a brow at him. “What, did you think I’d just fuck off if the necklace wasn’t around anymore? If you’re that stupid I’m amazed the Merchant’s Guild hasn’t run you out of town yet.” Ilvan had had a reputation as quite a sharp man, which was why this was just a touch confusing. Screwing her over because of a single necklace when he could have made much more of a profit from legitimately buying and selling everything she’d had ready to sell, and pissing her off in the process, made no sense at all.

Ilvan was barely breathing, obviously trying to stop his own skin from pressing any harder against the knife. But his gaze was darting around the room – Zev, desk, wall, floor. And it kept returning to the same corner. Isabela smiled sharply. “Oh, you sneaky man. There’s something about that particular necklace that’s important to somebody, isn’t there?”

In the corner was a bookcase. Seemingly nondescript, stuffed with dull-looking books. He kept looking over there for some reason. Isabela turned the smile sweet as she aimed it at Zev. “Zevran, darling, would you mind having a look at that bookcase for dear Ilvan here? He seems extremely concerned about it.”


[[OOC: Ilvan's dialogue - c0c46a.]]
 

Zevran

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#12
“I-I-I’ve sold it already. It’s gone.”

Zevran tutted from his position near the door. That left only one solution to this particular problem...

A solution Isabela readily came to, “Okay, fine. Saves me finding another fence. Where’s the money that you got for the necklace? I’ll be taking that. I’m assuming you charged through the nose for it.”

“No! Wait, I didn’t sell it! It’s still here!”
Zevran's brow arched at the admission by the man. Ilvan was not a very results driven individual, was he? Not if he planned to have the final results of the evening be he came out of it in possession of his own life.

“What, did you think I’d just fuck off if the necklace wasn’t around anymore? If you’re that stupid I’m amazed the Merchant’s Guild hasn’t run you out of town yet.”

That did appear to be what Ilvan thought or hoped. The rhythm of his breathing picked up as did the quick movement of his eyes about the room. One did not need to have formal training to read some body language.

Isabela recognized what Zevran had and smiled at the man, “Oh, you sneaky man. There’s something about that particular necklace that’s important to somebody, isn’t there?”

Sweetness in a single look, Isabela so kindly requested, “Zevran, darling, would you mind having a look at that bookcase for dear Ilvan here? He seems extremely concerned about it.”

"But of course," Zevran replied with no hesitation. A booted foot pushed against the wall to propel him in the direction of the bookcase that Ilvan seemed so very interested in. The bookcase was filled with the type of books one would expect to find in a home of such decor. There was a tome about the history of Thedas next to a collection of Brother Genitivi books.

Zevran retrieved a copy of Kirkwall: the City of Chains and held it up in display for Isabela, "I met this author once. Quite the way with words." Willy toiled for many a year to perfect the curious mechanisms that would send a sharpened spike up the arse of the unwary intruder. Zevran so wished Genitivi had used that in a book.

The weight of the book felt particularly too light for a tome of such girth. Zevran balanced the book in his palm before looking over his shoulder at Ilvan. The man wiggled beneath Isabela. Not an all together uncommon sight. Many a man wiggled beneath such magnificence, Zevran included. It was the nervous flit of his eyes, however, that gave Ilvan away.

"City of Chains,"
Zevran said, amber eyes scanning the title of the book. "Apropos yes?" Opening the book revealed the tome hollowed out inside and within the folds of cut paper was a necklace, presumably the same necklace Isabela sought.

"Tsk tsk. Not subtle at all my new friend,"
Zevran teased with the shake of his head. A single finger slid into the book to wrap about the chain of the necklace to free it from the confines of the book. "Is this what you are looking for?" he asked of Isabela.
 

Isabela

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#13
Zevran might not be great with locks, but his quick fingers had other uses (besides the obvious). They fluttered over the books and quickly pulled out one with a title embossed on the front in shiny gold lettering. “I met this author once. Quite the way with words.”

Kirkwall: City of Chains. By Brother Genitivi. Isabela was sure that whatever story she might invent for how Zevran had come to know a travelling Chantry priest (would it be laybrother? They couldn’t call them laysisters, could they?), it probably wouldn’t match up to reality. “Oh? A larger…vocabulary than usually allowed by the Chantry of Light?”

Okay, not her best, but she was eager to see what the deal was with this necklace. It had felt weightier than she’d expected when she’d held it before, but it’d been hot so she’d not focused on much other than getting it out of her hands. With the downside that Ilvan had decided to use her haste against her. Patience was not one of her virtues when she wasn’t on a ship.

Zevran opened the book, and drew out the slender gold chain with the dragon-shaped emerald pendant dangling from the end. “Tsk tsk. Not subtle at all my new friend. Is this what you are looking for?” He directed this last to Isabela, holding out the necklace. She grinned.

“Indeed it is. Swap places? I need to check something.”

After Zevran had taken Ilvan in hand (interestingly, the man looked a little less upset by this development, although still pissed off as hell about the general situation), Isabela studied the necklace. It was well made and the emerald itself was beautifully cut and shaped, but the backing it sat on was gaudy. It was far too big, heavy, and would probably leave an impression on any skin it lay against.

Isabela slid her thumbnail around the gem, concentrating, and found the slightest gap. The scrollwork on the opposite side looked like a hinge. She tugged, gently, and the whole thing opened. Not just a locket then, but a pendant, and with a rolled piece of paper inside – and inside that, a absolutely flawless and tiny diamond.

She unrolled the paper and then rolled her eyes. The writing was gibberish, most likely a code. She turned her head towards Ilvan, who was jutting his jaw out defiantly.

“I’ll never tell you what it says.”

“I don’t much care, to be honest.” Isabela dropped the paper on the carpet and tucked necklace and diamond into her pouch. Ilvan’s expression changed at lightning speed; he gawped openly at her. “I came for my money, I’ve got it.” Mysterious codes always spelled trouble for someone, and she didn’t feel like sticking around to try and figure it out with no context. “Thanks for the extra.” She smiled brightly at Zevran. “Shall we? I think I can afford to stand you a drink or two after this.”
 

Zevran

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#14
“Indeed it is. Swap places? I need to check something.”

“You do so know how I like to,” Zevran’s mouth twitched in a glimmer of a smile, “swap.” Zevran sauntered toward Isabela and traded places with her, pinning the still squirming Ilvan beneath him so that Isabela might examine their find.

Nimble fingers made quick work of a locking mechanism hidden within the necklace. From inside the pendant she withdrew what Zevran could see as a small piece of paper. Ilvan struggled against Zevran and found himself unsuccessful in earning his escape.

“I’ll never tell you what it says.” Ilvan spat out.

“I don’t much care, to be honest.” And to show her ambivalence, Isabela dropped the paper upon the ground with little care. “I came for my money, I’ve got it. Thanks for the extra.” With a wide smile, she looked to Zevran, “Shall we? I think I can afford to stand you a drink or two after this.”

“Let’s,” Zevran agreed, hopping off Ilvan with ease. The man jerked, pressing his back against the wall behind him lest he get pinned again. He need not have worried. Isabela and Zevran were done with him.

Zevran walked to Isabela’s side and hooked an arm about one of hers so that they might make their exit together. “It is good to see you continue to make friends so easily,” he teased.

If there were other guards lingering about, none made their presence known to hinder Isabela and Zevran’s exit from the home. They paired made their escape as easily as their entry. “Where shall we go?” he asked once outside.
 

Isabela

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#15
It was quite satisfying to see Ilvan’s gobsmacked expression as he took in the fact that whatever the paper was, it meant nothing to Isabela. Furthermore, that she wasn’t inclined to care. It was always amusing to see people realise that she didn’t give a fig for whatever they held sacred. If there was money to be made with relatively little effort, she’d make it, and enjoy herself doing it too. Spending it was just as good, and she didn’t even leave the room before inviting Zevran to join her for a few drinks to celebrate the success of the night’s work.

Ilvan’ wriggled away, squirming against the wall. “There’s people’ll come after you for that thing! You’ll be hunted down like a dog!”

“They can get in line.” Isabela smiled. Oh, she could take the time to decipher what the code was, maybe even find some treasure at the end of it, but sometimes she just couldn’t help her impulses. Right now, it was to flick the whole piece of parchment into the depths of the fire before sauntering out of the door arm in arm with Zevran and kicking it shut just in time to hear Ilvan’s body thump against it. He’d probably launched himself at them in a rage and was now nursing a headache. The thought put even more of a spring in Isabela’s step.

They stepped out into the night air and Isabela drew a breath. It wasn’t the same as the cool breeze that would have wrapped her at sea, but Hightown was enough at altitude that she could imagine, just for a moment, that she’d stepped off a freshly-raided merchant ship. Close enough. And even though the ground wasn’t rocking gently beneath her, there was the potential for other, considerably less gentle rocking if Zevran hadn’t lost his touch.

“Where shall we go?”

Isabela grinned. “Oh, a hive of scum and villainy sounds like our best destination. And I have just the place. I’ve been staying in the Hanged Man down in Lowtown, and it’s everything you could want from a tavern. Cheap booze, bar fights, occasionally some decent music – and plenty of people who I swear come there for the sole purpose of getting fleeced. Fancy it?”
 

Zevran

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#16
Isabela, indeed, had somewhere in mind. “Oh, a hive of scum and villainy sounds like our best destination. And I have just the place. I’ve been staying in the Hanged Man down in Lowtown, and it’s everything you could want from a tavern. Cheap booze, bar fights, occasionally some decent music – and plenty of people who I swear come there for the sole purpose of getting fleeced. Fancy it?”

Zevran was quite familiar with the establishment, having gone there to find Isabela quite unsuccessfully on his last trip to Kirkwall the month before. He knew his friend’s taste for taverns and having heard of the Hanged Man, thought nowhere no more suitable for her than there.

A brilliant smile lined his laughter touched lips. “My dear Isabela, you do know I like to fancy,” he replied with a wink.

Rather than reveal his knowledge of the place just yet, he let Isabela guide them along their path to the Hanged Man. The streets of Kirkwall at night were mostly empty save a random person wandering about. Zevran had heard talk of certain bandit factions often milling about at night determined to prey upon the unwary. Isabela and Zevran ran into no such group as they wove through Hightown on their way to Lowtown. The effigy of a Hanged Man just outside the tavern appeared soon enough.

Ever the fancy man, he reached for the door, opening the way for Isabela to enter first with him very closely behind. The place was just as Zevran remembered it. The stench of stale ale and piss permeated the air, assaulting the nostrils almost immediately upon entry. Such was a smell he tolerated more than reveled in. Zevran had a preference for perfumes and incense, but such was the Antivan way.

“Charming,” he noted with a playful lilt. “I see your tastes have not changed. The place is teaming with sea men.,” was added in tease, a slender brow spiking.
 

Isabela

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#17
Zevran was of course up for exploring all the nooks and crannies of the Hanged Man, and presumably anything and anybody that happened to be inside it. As long as they were game for it, though, and if he was offering tonight, Isabela was calling dibs. She gave a pleased grin at his response and set off her favourite place in Kirkwall, swaying her hips a little more than usual for his enjoyment. Theirs was very much a give-and-receive relationship.

He nipped around her just as they reached the door, opening it for her, and Isabela flicked her hair before giving the coy giggle of somebody with approximately three brain cells to their name. “Why, ser Zevran. I always forget how perfect your manners are.”

They walked in to be greeted with the wall of sound that was every underpaid worker in Kirkwall frittering away their little coin on ale, gambling or a combination of both. The occupants of a table at the back looked one bad hand away from a fight, a minstrel in the corner with a lute that hadn’t been tuned since Andraste’s prime was caterwauling over the din, and several people were yelling over each other just to try and beat the volume, which of course made it even louder. Her home away from home. She turned her head to gauge Zev’s reaction, knowing roughly what it would be.

“Charming. I see your tastes have not changed. The place is teaming with sea men.” The little crook at the corner of his she found so endearing appeared, and Isabela snorted.

“I like to know where my sea men have been mixing before I get involved. Nothing worse than agreeing to take on one and then realising he brought a lot of little passengers along.” Isabela liked her partners clean, thank you very much. It was already a hard job steering a ship or running a small crime gang without her nethers being on fire. Zevran, with his usual scrupulous levels of hygiene, have never disappointed on that front.

She led him over to the bar. “Antivan brandy tonight, I think? I can afford it,” she grinned. The necklace was going to bring in more than a little money, enough to keep her bed here and get a few meals in when she remembered to. “And then, pretty man, you can tell me if you’ll happen to be around in Kirkwall long enough for me to enjoy your company.”
 

Zevran

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#18
“I like to know where my sea men have been mixing before I get involved. Nothing worse than agreeing to take on one and then realising he brought a lot of little passengers along.”

A wise woman Isabela, one of her many attributes Zevran had grown to appreciate over the years.

The pair advanced upon the bar, Isabela with a suggestion, “Antivan brandy tonight, I think? I can afford it. And then, pretty man, you can tell me if you’ll happen to be around in Kirkwall long enough for me to enjoy your company.”

“Tonight we take in a bit of Antiva, yes?” Zevran replied, a single brow spiking playfully. Brandy was not his drink of preference but when in such company as Isabela, how could he refuse?

As to her other question, Zevran pressed his side against the bar, leaning gracefully into the fixture. “I shall be in Kirkwall for the time being. Denerim is just,” his face pinched, “brown and I was in the mood for some shades of tan and,” his gaze panned toward Isabela’s best assets, “bronze.” An answer but not, but such was his way and hers.

Isabela had just been one of the reasons Zevran was drawn to Kirkwall. Hearing of her presence in the city made his decision to relocate for the time being an easier one. Another was arriving within the week if his sources were correct. “There is someone I would like you to meet,” he dropped casually, “she arrives at the end of the week."
 

Isabela

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#19
Zevran always seemed to appreciate her sense of humour. His smiles were more subtle but the amusement no less evident than her own as she mentioned the precautions she took, and he was as glib as ever when she offered a round from his home country. “Tonight we take in a bit of Antiva, yes?”

That is my hope, yes.” Isabela chuckled richly, and gestured for two measures in each glass. From the good stuff, not the piss that Corff labelled as being from Antiva and Isabela was fairly certain had been brewed less than a week before somewhere in a Darktown barrel.

In addition to the fabulous news that Zevran was in Kirkwall at all, which would have gone a long way to improving any bad mood, he revealed he would not be leaving immediately. “Denerim is just brown;” his beautiful face wrinkled in distaste for a moment, “and I was in the mood for some shades of tan and bronze.” His gaze raked over her front and she laughed. It was not a full answer but it would do her for now.

“And you thought you would favour Kirkwall with your own bronzed skin. I see.” She ran a finger down his jawline. The first time she’d seen him, she remembered being taken aback by how astonishingly well put together he was – his lines so defined that it almost made him look delicate, until he moved and she’d realised he was less a sculpture than a cat. And a dangerous one, at that. She grinned. “On behalf of Kirkwall, may I thank you for your considerate nature?”

Not immediately, though. Zevran was excellent company in all arenas and she’d missed him as much as a friend as she had a bedpartner. There was more catching up to be done, and Zevran had brought a juicy tidbit for her to grasp at. “There is someone I would like you to meet. She arrives at the end of the week.”

“Oh?” Isabela threw back part of her drink. It didn’t burn too badly on the way down, so Corff hadn’t screwed her over. Smart man. That done, she propped her chin on her hand, and made a beckoning motion with the other. “Who is this interesting new playmate?”
 

Zevran

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#20
“And you thought you would favour Kirkwall with your own bronzed skin. I see.” The tip of Isabela’s finger traced the cut of Zevran’s jawline. A smile blossomed upon her lips. “On behalf of Kirkwall, may I thank you for your considerate nature?”

“Let it never be said I not attentive,” Zevran quipped in return.

He shifted the subject to Elunara, mentioning her arrival later in the week.

“Oh?” Isabela managed to not choke upon her brandy. Chin propped upon her hand, Isabela asked the expected, “Who is this interesting new playmate?”

The lack of sputtering on Isabela’s part as she drank her drink inspired Zevran to sample a taste of his own. He had smoother brandy, most certainly, but was not entirely disappointed by the flavor rolling against his tongue. Certainly higher quality than he anticipated receiving at a place such as the Hanged Man.

The mug set aside for a moment, he focused his full attention upon his friend. There were very few in the world he felt the same level of comfort with as he did Isabela. While he still wore his masks, hiding parts of himself not even he liked to admire within a mirror, the number sported in Isabela’s company were few. An understanding existed between them that could not quite be put to words nor did Zevran care to define such things.

“Elunara is her name. She is an elf from Orlais I met in Denerim.” He had cared to really define things with Elunara yet either. Playmate was not quite the right terms. He had yet to share her bed, or in Elunara’s case, her sleeping bag. Yet he had asked her to join him in Kirkwall. An impulsive ask at the time but not one he regretted yet. The woman intrigued him which was more than could be said for most people. “I irritate her so naturally she decided to come with me to Kirkwall when I asked her,” he added, a playful lilt within his tone.

“And you, my friend, what brings you to Kirkwall?” he asked.
 
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