light were his steps, nothing that he typically intended but an added bonus - the lacking footwear assisted further. but it was the weightless motion that carried him closer, an unexpected embrace from ‘hind the fellow crow. ❛ mmn. ❜ no witty remark or vague, teasing threat; it was only his arms, snaked loose ‘bout taliesen’s frame and his nose pressed into the other’s back.
❛ though were i a knife, i would fear for you. ❜ ah - there it was, the familiar jest, followed closely by a smile - and affection! a press of his head, further against the muscle he had found rest.
Taliesen is occupied, but it’s still no excuse for failing to hear Zevran’s approach to his back. He scolds himself for leaving himself exposed. He should move his workshop to where it is facing the door, yes?
And it seemed no sooner than his body naturally relaxed under the elf’s embrace does the subtle threat come. There it was. Could be playful banter. Could mean he’s going to feel the cold steel of his favored blade against his back.
He turns to glance over his shoulder, his hand already wrapped a fist around his own blade - just in case. Word to the wise - don’t let your guard down around Zevran.
“Good thing you’re not, yes?”
