The Drow Queen of Glaley [Very NSFW]

[Zevran]

"Isabela," he says reprovingly. "She-- she has never harmed me. Especially not--" He swallows thickly, still panicking but strangely calmed by having to manage her... Is she jealous? Because-- "Isabela, what-- are you jealous of her?"

[Isabela]

"Jealous? Me?" she says, her voice too high. Why is my throat tight? "Never. Isabela only does casual flings."

[Zevran]

"Isabela... I meant what I said to you. About us, ah, being an us. I am not-- I am not normal. I will never be normal. I am not--" He falters, self-doubts and a broken self-worth warring with an instinctive need to comfort her properly. "I am unworthy of any of you. But if you are willing to tolerate less than you deserve, I will be with you as long as I am wanted."

[Isabela]

"Hush, you. You're not unworthy."

[Zevran]

Zevran smiles at her, though it's empty and sad. "I am a monster, Isabela. In so, so many ways."

[Isabela]

"Not where it counts." Not like I am.

[Zevran]

Zevran looks at her steadily. "Do you think it matters to the thousands of dead, that I was ordered to kill them? To their widows and orphans, the parents filling the graves of their children?" He laughs harshly. "I am a monster, soaked in blood and--" He breaks off, hunching over. "Gods, I am not-- how am I supposed to-- gods."

[Isabela]

"They don't get to decide who you are," she snaps. "Their opinion doesn't matter. They don't know you."

[Zevran]

"They don't know me," Zevran agrees, eyes closing. "But they do matter, 'bela. To me, they matter so much. I cannot ignore the harm I've done to so many. I cannot forget, nor forgive."

[Isabela]

"What someone else made you do falls on their character, not yours. Same as if you'd been bespelled." She hesitates, then adds, "I found changing my name, starting over, to be exactly what I needed. Shed the old self and begin anew."

[Zevran]

Zevran's head lowers even more, his body nearly curled up by now. "A new self..." He swallows thickly, emotions twisting inside him like some kind of snake pit trap. "But what of-- what of the parts of me that I cannot change? That I cannot leave behind?" he whispers. 

[Isabela]

"Such as?" she asks, softly. "I find being someone new helps. Being able to forget any of it happened. Or, not forget exactly but.... it's as if it happened to someone else."

[Zevran]

Wordlessly, Zevran stretches out his right arm, then slowly his fingers across the skin of his forearm.

[Isabela]

"I hear Raplin's Daughter is a master of flesh changing," she says, softly. "They could remove the tattoos. Or.... make you into someone else altogether."

[Zevran]

"The tattoos I don't really mind." Zevran pauses, then confesses, "aside from the central one on my stomach. It's its brand." The hands, still outstretched, quiver slightly.