#acrackedd20

“Who was it?” Savill asks. He tried to be gentle as he wrapped the bandage around Raya’s finger. Raya still winced as he pulled the end tight as he tucked it beneath the wrappings, and he finished it off with a kiss to the tip of her finger. He didn’t let of her wrist and she didn’t pull away.

“No one,” she said, looking away. Raya flexed her fingers and she picked at the bandage to fold it away from her knuckle. “It was my fault.”

Savill hummed. “Did you know that blood mages can read minds?” Raya bit her lip. 

“Just because he spooked me doesn’t mean he cut my finger.”

“Oh, I wasn’t finished yet, scilia.” Savill continued, waving a finger in her face. “I can’t read minds.”

“Then why did you-” Raya did snatch her hand out of his grasp then, and Savill let his arm drop to his side. He rose from his seat at the table to lean over and place another kiss on the top of her head. “So you’ll have to tell me who it was, specifically, that spooked you into dropping your knife.”

“What will you do if I tell you?”

Savill gathered his belongings - nothing more than a thinning roll of leftover bandages, a set of tweezers, and a small bottle of something he wasn’t sure the contents of but knew it burned. He threw out the stained old bandages with a clench of his hands, fire flicking between his fingers, burning them into ash. It felt good. His magic had bubbled hot under his skin since the moment she’d come to see him, blood tricking down her wrist. 

“Nothing much, I assure you. A talk. A word. Perhaps a rude hand gesture.”

Raya snorted. “And that’s supposed to help?”

“Oh? And how would you defend your honor?”

“Make his tea taste bad.”

“What a pair we make,” Zevran chuckled and Levy made a face as Zevran shifted under his hands. Leverette gripped his arm tighter and finished wrapping the last of the newest wounds. The bandages were already staining a light shade of pink. Levy made another face and pushed for a wave of healing magic, crude as he was at it. 

“That almost sounds like an insult,” he said, and passed the roll of bandages over to let Zevran wipe at the drying blood on his forehead. He flushed when Zevran’s hand stilled against his cheek. “Is it in an insult?”

“Not in the slightest. I’ve just been...thinking. Admiring.” Leverette dropped his gaze with a cough. “To think, a Crow and a Grey Warden, an assassin and a chosen hero, a flea and the sun-”

Leverette lifted his hand to cover Zevran’s, still cupping his face. “Now that’s an insult.”

“It a truth-”

Leverette linked their fingers together and snorted. “You’re more than that. You’ve always been more than that. To...to me.” 

“Hey, hey,” Leverette said, feeling Zevran stir besides him. He caught Zevran with a hand against his cheek before he could shift too far and frowned when the skin beneath his was still too hot. His fingertips when purple with the ice magic that laced between them, but he endured it as the sweat beading Zevran’s brow rolled off and the glaze across his eyes cleared. 

“What is this?” The blankets piled high across him made it difficult for Zevran to move in their cocoon, but he tried his hardest to escape their weight. It was a valiant, if wasted, effort, and Leverette straightened them out, tucking the corners down around Zevran, after the strength ran out of him. “Was this your plot all along? To string me up and poison me?”

Leverette snorted. “You caught me. I only pretended to fall deeply in love with you so I could get close enough to make you sick.” He returned his hand to the elf’s forehead and sighed when Zevran lifted his head up and into the cooling magic. 

“I knew it. I did warn myself that every kiss of yours was a danger. I shall exact suitable revenge, mark my words.”

“Is that so?” he asked, and he pressed a quick one to Zevran’s shoulder. “I think that’s the fever talking.”

“An assassin never lies and a gentleman never makes a promise he cannot keep.”

I hope they know werebplot thing worse

16 - Dark secrets/’skeletons in the closet’

We all know it’s about his dad. He never learns it was the templars that killed him and not the fire Levy started when they came to take him. He never tells anyone, either, that he killed his dad. He’s mentioned, very briefly, that he killed his mother, but only because he never knew his mother and he half knows that complications from childbirth wasn’t something anyone could control so he doesn’t feel like that blood is on his hands. 

32 - Do they have a go-to story in conversation? Or a joke?

Not really a story or a joke, but a lot of conversations are either about the Wardens or will eventually lean towards the Wardens so he tends to stick with any information about them. Someone always needs an update, and he’s more than happy to start talking about something other than himself. 

H - What trait do you admire most?