fragilespark replied to your post “I want to curl up near a heater with hot chocolate and talk about my…”
*offers hot chocolate and blanket/cushions to your preference and offers character feels* let’s talk elves. Theron and Zevran and Fenris against the world.
Oh no they’re all hot
Think about this though; it would be the hottest m/m/m triad in all of Thedas. Three elves, two of whom are men of color, all three of whom have the most gorgeous tattoos: six cute elfy feet with cute elfy toes, three pairs of twitching, blushing ears, three pairs of “pretty eyes” as Isabela would say, and a lovely size difference considering Theron is smaller than Zevran, and Zevran is smaller than Fenris. Sexy voices/accents too—of course you can’t HEAR Theron in game, but in my head he has a low voice with a light Irish accent, and is very soft-spoken.
Personality-wise they’d mesh too. Zevran would make bawdy, tasteless jokes, and Theron and Fenris would chuckle at him. Fenris and Theron would spend comfortable silence together, to be interrupted by jovial Zevran, ready to either bring in a little excitement or settle down for a while. They’d sleep with Theron between them because he’s small and warm and needs the protection from his nightmares. Zevran could read them both like a book and know how to cheer them up with good alcohol and stories and bad Antivan poetry. They would have every single physical need met because Fenris has strength and Zevran has skills and Theron has stamina, and when Isabela came to town it would be a riot.
They’d be good in a fight, too. Theron can track, then stay back to rain arrows down on the opponent—after they can use poultices and Dalish remedies he’s made to heal. Zevran can sneak around the enemy and stab them in the back, while Fenris goes into Spirit Flux mode and draws all the attention with his big fucking sword.
Now I need an excuse for this, you realize that right?
Alistair opens his eyes and there is light streaming through the windows, falling in gold splendor onto Ziya’s warm skin. His eyes are closed, his long eyelashes fluttering lightly when he stretches, still lost in the Fade in the late morning. It’s summer, and Ziya’s skin is dark-bronzed brown, favored by the sun until he’s twice as dark as he was when they first met. He’s wearing white smallclothes, and is laying on top of the light summer quilt, limbs elongated, back slightly arched, a beautiful tableau of plump perfection. Alistair strokes his hair, tightly curled and messy, slightly sweaty from the oncoming heat. Ziya yawns and rolls over, oblivious.
Anders opens his eyes and Theron is already awake. He’s laying quietly next to him, on his belly, slowly reading a book. He’s naked still and the sun has covered his back in dense, red-brown freckles. It’s hot, and Theron has tied his hair up on the top of his head, a few wild strands of rich copper falling to stick to the back of his neck. Anders stretches a bit, and Theron turns to him. He smiles; his ears perk upwards by near imperceptible degrees, and he leans over Anders to softly kiss his mouth.