four days into this month and i realize i’ve still been dating everything FUCKING APRIL god i am an IDIOT

I wish my mind would learn to stop talking, stop talking, stop talking… because I always regret it

the time and effort i made into creating this feels very indicative of my current mental state

somebody pls help me

“I can’t believe how clear the water is, here.”

Head thrown off the edge of the bed, Zevran laughed. Upside-down Aedan, on the balcony, turned at the sound, and Zevran could see the flash of his up-turned smile even all the way back from where he was laying.

“Are you making fun of me?” the Warden asked, and Zevran willed himself to roll back on his belly, before getting up.

His head spun just a little, as he did, and he didn’t at all mind. He was still light-headed from their late-night… revelries, and his body was pleasantly sore in ways and places he couldn’t find it in him to regret. He smiled back at Aedan, and accepted the arm the taller man was holding out to circle his waist. Breathing in the smell of the waves, Zevran leaned on Aedan’s side much heavier than he needed to stand upright, but hey, wasn’t that the whole point?

“Not at all,” he answered, humming in satisfaction as his head nuzzled just right under Aedan’s chin, as if their bodies had been made for the sole purpose of interlocking, “Do you like it?”

Aedan didn’t answer right away, because he was busy kissing the top of Zevran’s head, and gently pressing his hand over his ribs, feeling them up and down. Both of them loved how easily his long fingers could circle a good portion of Zevran’s chest, making him feel so deliciously smaller. With a smile, Zevran shifted a little, waking Aedan from his trance. He knew the man: when he got like this, it was only a question of moments before his touches devolved to something much more heated. Zevran loved his insatiable Warden, but he was trying to have a conversation, there. That too was nice, once in a while.

“I do,” Aedan finally answered, managing to turn his attention back to the sea, “Although it’s a little bit unsettling. Don’t you think?”

He leaned over the balcony, gazing down at the crystalline water so far below. The sun cut a stark golden line side-ways across his back.

“It almost looks pretend,” Aedan murmured, “Like a jewel.”

Zevran smiled at that noble profile, a bit scrunched-up to face the harsh reflection of the sun on the waves, as Aedan inspected them with his usual diligent focus. Zevran let his fingers trail down the middle of that dark, scarred back, and the Warden raised his head again, smiling at him. Those eyes were much too green to match the color of the sea, here, and Zevran strangely loved that. It reminded him that his Fereldan love was the exotic one, here.

“Some things are just too beautiful to believe are real,” Aedan murmured, still staring at him, and Zevran laughed again, and leaned in for a kiss.

“Would you listen to this flatterer,” he chuckled, and when Aedan held him tighter, smiling into his mouth again, this time, Zevran didn’t fight him back.

“Lord Crow.”

Zevran turned around. If the young recruit had some thought about his lack of clothing, it didn’t transpire at all on her face. She stood straight by the bed, looking at him head on.

Good lass, that one. Perhaps Zevran should look closer into her training.

“What is it?” he asked, pleasant smile as always, he knew, floating on his lips like an afterthought.

It wasn’t as if he could summon an earnest one anymore, anyways. The warmth had faded from Zevran’s side like a blown candle. There was no other hand next to his on the wrought iron of the balcony.

“La Principessa has arrived,” the young bird answered, and Zevran nodded.

“I’ll be right down,” he said, dismissing her with a vague gesture, “Simply give me a moment.”

With a bow, the girl showed herself out. A silent one, yes, that one was. To investigate, indeed: a flock could always use a quiet bird…

Zevran turned his look to the sea again, but the balcony was empty, now, and the wind colder on his naked skin. The clear blue sea shone back at him with unfeeling, mineral gleam.

Like a jewel.

“Yes, my love,” Zevran whispered to himself, “Too beautiful to be true.”

Who wore it better?