Nov 19, 2018 3:13 PM
Aria faces the Fifth Blight
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"I have to say, the thought of you swinging around a weapon that formidable, it does strike a thrill of fear in me," Zevran laughs.

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"I only hope that the darkspawn are as sensible as you."

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"I'm very rarely sensible. You've caught me at a terrible moment."

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"Unfortunate. You'll never live it down."

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"That, of course, implies you're going to keep me."

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"Well, you know. The world might not make it much longer. It'd be a waste of precious time, getting your replacement up to speed."

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Zevran grins, obviously pleased. "It is so good to find employment, even during a blight."

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"Well, as long as you're meeting your career goals."

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"I can think of worse things I could be doing. Cleaning, dying horribly and slowly from the blight."

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"Cleaning probably has a higher survival rate." She doesn't mention that they're probably gonna end up doing that second thing.

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"A little optimism would do you a world of good, my dear."

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"Maybe it would," she says, smiling. "I just have this tragic condition where seeing hundreds of people die makes me aware of my own mortality. But I'm glad if there are those among us who are immune to it."

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"There will be many sad times ahead of you, dwelling too deeply on them may only hurt. Remember, learn."

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"S'not the sadness that worries me." And then she's back to bright and cheerful, because arguing about how miserable they ought to be is, in fact, painful. "If you're still interested in sparring by the time we make camp tonight, we can totally do that."

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"I'll look forward to it. It has been some time since I faced an opponent of any skill."

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"Well, I hope I live up to your expectations," she says, grinning. 

They don't make camp until pretty late into the evening - saving the world, and all that, can't afford to set a leisurely pace. She sets up her own tent, assists Alistair in setting up his, makes sure her dog has been properly fed, and then goes off to check whether Zevran is less than completely dead on his feet.

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