The Drow Queen of Glaley [Very NSFW]

[Zevran]

"Ah. My apologies for the assumption then," Zevran says, nodding his head slightly. He takes a slow breath. "This is also... The Iron Bull. Coquette's best friend, a merikos-- pardon, he preferred-ers, imisy minotaur. He was tortured as well. Mutilated. And he-- we were almost caught as we fled and he... He paid for our freedom with his own. Coquette has... forced herself to bury and deny her pain, so she can protect us, so she can be strong for us. And... And because, I think, she fears it would break her."

[GamesMaster]

"And you are looking to... verify that his soul has passed on?" asks Amandine, clearly not following. 

[Zevran]

"Oh, I am--" He pauses, then shrugs. "Actually, that might not be amiss," he allows, "but it was not my original purpose in mentioning him. Rather, I was giving you more background about our wife's heart wounds. She is... She is not as well as she appears, even to herself. She has simply been taught to hide her pain as to not risk inviting yet more pain from her abuser."

[GamesMaster]

"I see. I am not an expert in such things, but I can take a look of course."

[Zevran]

Zevran nods a little, tension showing clearly in the rigid line of his shoulders. "Thank you," he says quietly, feeling entirely inadequate. There's a few more minutes of somewhat stilted smalltalk, some brownie is packed away for the merikos drow to take home with him (Zevran making a mental note to share it with Coquette, possibly in bed), and arrangements made to bring Shisou to the Tree the following morning.

As he and Isabela head back for the ship, Zevran's pace slows. His bearing and body language, not to mention some faint, pre-vocalization noises, give Isabela ample warning that he's trying to say something. Finally, he sighs deeply, mutters something to himself, then blurts out, "I am sorry. Doubly so, for I am not even sure what I did to offend."

[Isabela]

"Who says I'm offended," she says blithely. "Ooh, they make a great mead here, have you tried it?"

[Zevran]

"You're not touched me of your own accord save once since I woke up. Since... since it was discovered that Coquette is with child." He looks steadily ahead. "I do not-- if that is not something you can... tolerate, I will grieve for what could have been, but I will not attempt to bind you with..." He trails off, not sure how to put to words what lays between them. Soft words of comfort in the night, promises of shared passion, a decade of wondering...

[Isabela]

"What?" she asks, frowning. "Zevran, I... I've been trying to keep my hands off you for your sake, knowing what you've been through." It's not entirely true, but it's true enough, she figures. "Besides, we do barely know each other, after all. Not that I'd turn down a tumble, you understand, just, I don't want you to think I... meant something I didn't, or anything. I'm Terisine, we're not built for relationships. You have your family and I have mine."

[Zevran]

"There is more to touch than sex or marriage," Zevran replies softly, shaking his head. "Something changed, during that-- when I woke up. I did something. Didn't do something." He sighs, then shakes his head again. "Or perhaps not and I am simply... seeing things. Seeing my fears. I have more than enough of them for that to be plausible," he finishes, voice lower and mostly to himself. "But I can at least quell one of your own fears; you are someone I would chose and chose again of my own accord. Your touch would be welcome and gratefully, happily, eagerly so."

[Isabela]

"I'm not sure I ever touch someone nonsexually," she laughs, mostly at herself. Is that true? How strange. But I think it is. "I'm a very sexual being." So saying, she reaches up and gently brushes her fingers along his cheekbone. "I usually don't fuck with married men though. Maybe that's the hangup."

[Zevran]

"I have spoken with her about... about us," Zevran offers, eyes widening instead of closing as he leans into her touch. A strange reaction, but one that fits Zevran's behaviors otherwise, somehow. "The future, as always, is a thing of flux and flow, but we seem to be working towards a more equal version of an Alessian marriage. Specifically, that we are both-- that we are all rather-- allowed to have more than one spouse or lover. I've no doubt there shall be problems and challenges ahead, but you are both well worth hardship."

[Isabela]

"Not looking to be anyone's wife," she says casually, but her voice is soft, more gentle. "I don't know what you're looking for but I'm probably not it."

[Zevran]

"Nor do I wish to be anyone's chains, even ones that are well meant or kind," Zevran assures her. "I would offer of myself what I desire to offer and accept what you return. You..." He hesitates, then admits, "the you of my memory, the you I held close in my heart as fantasy and dream to hold back the darkness... she is not you. Or at least, she is probably not you. That is rather the point, that I do not know. But I knew her, I saw at least some of what she could become and I see Captain Isabela before me now and I yearn to discover more of you."

[Isabela]

Isabela glances away as he starts to speak, though she steals a glance back through a lock of her hair as he finishes. "I'm nothing special, I'm sure you've met a dozen like me since we met."

[Zevran]

Zevran snorts. "I've never met anyone just like you," he says firmly. "Nor have I met any 'very close' to being like you. You have similarities to my Coquette, but also differences, ones that merely end at the skin. No, I may not yet know you well, but I've seen you in moments of truth and I fancy my eyes a bit clearer than most. 'Special' is only the least you deserve."