Aug 20, 2019 4:18 PM
Zevran rescues a Sarah
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"I am the only dashing Orlesian qunari with a stupendous and hard earned fortune, so yes. A multitude," Teshir says with a sly wink.

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"He's also quite the magic scholar. Reads anything and everything he can get his hands on."

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"Including people," Wildling says in a purr.

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"Am I to be a shiny new present then?"

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"No! No, of course not, I would never-" Teshir seems mildly outraged, but calms himself. "I would never expect you to do anything for me. This is to be your home, not your prison, and I am certainly not your master. However, I do have a magical study where Wildling and I have been studying...well. Forbidden magics, and as such we have a great deal of knowledge not currently offered by the Chantry. Our hope is you will make use of it, and we can heal that spirit raging inside of you." 

Teshir grins, and holds up a now green-glowing hand. "Besides, if you get found out, so do I."

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"How long have you been in Antiva?"

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"Oh, about ten years? I come and go a fair bit, but I always return here. I don't much care for Orlesian traders, they're obsessed with secrets and back-alley dealing and garnering favours with whichever duke, marquis or general is the most liked of that week."

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"Never really interacted with them. My master tended to keep me close at hand and dolled out the chores to other slaves."

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"Count yourself lucky, they are exceedingly dull. And such slaves to fashion."

He gestures at the table. "Please, eat! You must be famished."

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Zevran smiles at her from his perch on a red and gold chaise.

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Devera smiles back and assesses the selection. Anything familiar?

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Definitely some off-brand versions of familiar items from home. Fish done a few different ways, plenty of fruits most common to Tevinter, a few jugs of honey-wine, and there, in a place of pride, small, round cakes.

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She'll take a small cake, a piece of fruit and settles in with them.

"Thank you for this. Helping a complete stranger has its risks."

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"Oh, it's nothing. Happy to take in another outcast. Fellow, I should even say."

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Zevran points to her cake. "Is that the...you know, I'm not going to butcher that again."

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"Mel crustulam," she pronounces carefully and then takes a small bite, "Mmm, they're good. But not quite," she smiles.

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"Honey-cakes, in the King's Tongue."

Teshir pouts playfully. "I may never reach the perfection that is a Minrathous mel crustulam, but I did my best!"

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"Ahhh," Zevran nods. "Pastel de miel, in Antivan. Not that we have anything completely similar."

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"I was rather partial to torrijas. Was."

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"They're good," she gives evidence by eating another mouthful, "a very acceptable substitute."

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"That's very good to hear," Teshir says warmly.

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"Maybe we can try together."

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"You'd teach me to make them properly?"

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"I'd love that. I've never taught anyone anything before, but you seem like a great student."

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"A very good student, I can confirm."

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