Sweet Treat
Where I live, it has been around or over 100 degrees every damn day for the last few weeks. It occurred to me that Keiran would be totally unaccustomed to the summer heat of Antiva City (which I imagine to be a wet heat because it's by the water). That's where I got the idea for this piece. It was originally meant to be a bit goofy, and it mostly still is, but Keiran had other plans. Oh well.
Yes, the title is silly. I couldn't think of anything better.
Warnings: none
---------------
Keiran liked Antiva; he really did. But he had also never been so hot in his entire life. He was sweating profusely, and due to the dampness in the air, the sweat didn't evaporate. After only twenty minutes of walking his armor padding was soaked, and it clung to his skin. “Damn this heat!" he said in frustration. "Every day is hotter than the last.” At least I'm wearing light armor. I can't imagine how the Templars survive in this.
To Keiran's annoyance, Zevran didn't seem to be very bothered by the heat. “If you find this intolerable, just wait until late summer. It gets worse.”
“Worse? ” Keiran let out a string of curses in Elvish. “Then we should wrap up this business with the Crows before that. I think I'll be cooked alive in my armor if it gets much hotter.”
“And now you have an idea of how I felt during that lovely Ferelden winter.” Zevran smirked. “Well, I thought I was going to freeze to death rather than be cooked alive, but there you go.”
Honestly, Keiran would rather be stuck in a snowstorm right now. By his reasoning, one could cover up more or find shelter to block out the cold, but there was a limit to how much you could remove to cool off. “So, why are we out in this ridiculous heat today?” he grumbled.
“I received a lead from one of my contacts that an assistant of the Guildmaster frequents a particular brothel on Tuesdays. We are going to stake out the building.”
Keiran immediately perked up. “Finally, some progress!” They had been trying to discover the Guildmaster's secret location for weeks now. If they could find and kill him, the Crows would leave them alone. Or so they hoped.
After a few minutes of walking, Zevran stopped. “And here we are.”
They were standing in front of what appeared to be an outdoor restaurant. Tables of various sizes were placed under a large piece of cloth that stretched overhead from the restaurant's roof to the street. “Um... this isn't a brothel,” Keiran whispered.
“Of course not. The brothel is on the other side of the street. We will watch from here.” Zevran pointed to a table as far away from the other patrons as possible. “Have a seat. I have a treat in store for you today,” he said, and then he was gone before Keiran could ask him what he meant. He sat then looked around at the other patrons, somewhat concerned that a pair of heavily armed elves would stick out.
He needn’t have worried. Just a few tables away was a group of humans and elves, probably mercenaries from the look of them, talking in Antivan. Keiran tried to make out what they were saying, but his grasp of the language was terrible at best, and they were talking far too fast for him to understand more than a few random words. With all the noise they're making, at least we won't have to worry about being overheard.
Keiran continued to scan the area. There were other groups of various sizes, so he and Zevran would not be out of place. His eyes drifted towards the corner. Tucked away there was a pair of human women, and they were... Well, that's not something I would see in Ferelden. It's a good thing Oghren isn't here; he would probably faint... or ask to join in.
He groaned at the disturbing mental image that conjured up and quickly looked away. Doing such... activities in public was no cause for concern in Antiva, but that didn't mean he was interested in watching what he considered to be a private act. Keiran decided that, oddly enough, checking out the brothel would be a safer course of action.
Several minutes passed as he watched people come and go. I wonder if any of these people are the Crow we're after. I should have asked Zev for a description.
“Here you are, mi amora.”
Keiran looked up at Zevran, who was holding out a golden brown cone with a heap of an unknown white substance spilling out of it. “And what is this?” he asked as took the strange item.
Zevran slid gracefully into the chair opposite Keiran. He was holding a similar item, but the mound on top of his cone was red. “This,” he said with a flourish, “is ice cream, and it is the perfect treat on a hot day. They just started making it again this week. If I'm not mistaken, you have nothing similar back in Ferelden.”
“Not that I'm aware of.” But there's still a lot of things about the human world I'm not aware of, so there could be. He looked at the ice cream cone dubiously. “So... I'm supposed to... eat this?”
Zevran laughed. “There is no need to look so worried. Just give it a lick.” Zevran demonstrated. “See?”
Keiran gave the white mound an cautious lick and scooped up some of the ice cream with his tongue. He gasped in surprise at the cold in his mouth.
“It is good, yes?”
Keiran licked again. Now that he was expecting the chill he could focus on the taste, and he found it to be surprisingly sweet. “Wow. How do they make something so cold in this heat? Magic?”
“It is a Tevinter creation,” Zevran explained. “During the winter season, snow and ice are taken from the mountains and stored underground until summer starts. The ingredients are mixed in an enchanted bowl, which is then placed in a larger bowl of ice and salt. The enchantments and ice water bring down the temperature of the mixture until it freezes and thickens into this. My countrymen created a variation we call gelato, which is much smoother in texture, but is far too sweet for my liking.” At Keiran's curious look, he added, “I posed as an apprentice in a place similar to this during my time as a Crow. It was part of my duties to make ice cream.”
“Who was your mark? The shopkeeper?”
“His wife. I believe she was involved in a smuggling ring, and was cheating her associates out of the profits. They were unhap-” Zevran suddenly dropped his voice to a whisper. “I believe our mark has arrived.”
Keiran turned his head slightly to the left to get a better look. “Who?”
“The elven lad with red hair.”
Keiran nodded. “I see him.” Thankfully, their target did not seem to notice them, and he sauntered into the brothel as if he were the owner. “Did your contact say how long he stays in there?”
“It varies, but no more than one hour.”
Then all we can do is wait. While keeping one eye on the brothel door, just in case, Keiran returned most of his attention to his sweet treat. And enjoy this. He felt so much cooler already; the ice cream was a welcome relief from the sticky Antivan heat.
Zevran caught his eye and grinned seductively. He slowly licked up the side of his mound of ice cream while maintaining eye contact. When he reached the top, he swirled his tongue suggestively around it in a very familiar motion...
Keiran shifted uncomfortably in his seat and was suddenly glad his armor had flaps below the waist. He raised an eyebrow and said, “I thought the goal was to cool off... not to turn up the heat.”
Zevran only grinned wider. “I don't know what you are talking about,” he said innocently. “I am simply trying to enjoy my ice cream.”
"Yes, of course you are," Keiran shot back, but he was unable to hide his smile.
The two elves stared at each other for several seconds, then burst out laughing.
“It is... good to hear you laugh like that again,” Zevran admitted several minutes later.
Keiran matched Zevran's warm smile with one of his own. “It's good to want to laugh again. And I have you to thank for helping me get to this point,” he said sincerely.
Zevran waved a hand dismissively. “I merely pushed you down the correct path. You helped yourself.”
Keiran disagreed with that statement, but did not want to delve further into this topic in public. In his mind, he was still not fully recovered from his ordeal, and he often wondered if there was such a thing as “fully recovered” from what he had gone through. He still had nightmares and flashbacks of his time in that cold cell, but they were much less frequent now. Unfortunately, he had not regained full range of motion in his arms. It was frustrating, but Keiran had reluctantly come to accept that there were some things he could no longer do.
He said nothing, and the two elves settled into a comfortable silence. Keiran reached out and laced his fingers with those of Zevran's free hand. They'd had too few moments between attacking the Crows and being attacked to just be, and he was going to take advantage of this one. And if made them blend in with the other couples sitting near them, so much the better.
After a long wait, the red-haired elf emerged from the brothel with a spring in his step. Keiran and Zevran quickly abandoned their table and followed him at a safe distance. With any luck, this man would lead them right to the Guildmaster, and Zevran would be free at last...
Yes, the title is silly. I couldn't think of anything better.
Warnings: none
---------------
Keiran liked Antiva; he really did. But he had also never been so hot in his entire life. He was sweating profusely, and due to the dampness in the air, the sweat didn't evaporate. After only twenty minutes of walking his armor padding was soaked, and it clung to his skin. “Damn this heat!" he said in frustration. "Every day is hotter than the last.” At least I'm wearing light armor. I can't imagine how the Templars survive in this.
To Keiran's annoyance, Zevran didn't seem to be very bothered by the heat. “If you find this intolerable, just wait until late summer. It gets worse.”
“Worse? ” Keiran let out a string of curses in Elvish. “Then we should wrap up this business with the Crows before that. I think I'll be cooked alive in my armor if it gets much hotter.”
“And now you have an idea of how I felt during that lovely Ferelden winter.” Zevran smirked. “Well, I thought I was going to freeze to death rather than be cooked alive, but there you go.”
Honestly, Keiran would rather be stuck in a snowstorm right now. By his reasoning, one could cover up more or find shelter to block out the cold, but there was a limit to how much you could remove to cool off. “So, why are we out in this ridiculous heat today?” he grumbled.
“I received a lead from one of my contacts that an assistant of the Guildmaster frequents a particular brothel on Tuesdays. We are going to stake out the building.”
Keiran immediately perked up. “Finally, some progress!” They had been trying to discover the Guildmaster's secret location for weeks now. If they could find and kill him, the Crows would leave them alone. Or so they hoped.
After a few minutes of walking, Zevran stopped. “And here we are.”
They were standing in front of what appeared to be an outdoor restaurant. Tables of various sizes were placed under a large piece of cloth that stretched overhead from the restaurant's roof to the street. “Um... this isn't a brothel,” Keiran whispered.
“Of course not. The brothel is on the other side of the street. We will watch from here.” Zevran pointed to a table as far away from the other patrons as possible. “Have a seat. I have a treat in store for you today,” he said, and then he was gone before Keiran could ask him what he meant. He sat then looked around at the other patrons, somewhat concerned that a pair of heavily armed elves would stick out.
He needn’t have worried. Just a few tables away was a group of humans and elves, probably mercenaries from the look of them, talking in Antivan. Keiran tried to make out what they were saying, but his grasp of the language was terrible at best, and they were talking far too fast for him to understand more than a few random words. With all the noise they're making, at least we won't have to worry about being overheard.
Keiran continued to scan the area. There were other groups of various sizes, so he and Zevran would not be out of place. His eyes drifted towards the corner. Tucked away there was a pair of human women, and they were... Well, that's not something I would see in Ferelden. It's a good thing Oghren isn't here; he would probably faint... or ask to join in.
He groaned at the disturbing mental image that conjured up and quickly looked away. Doing such... activities in public was no cause for concern in Antiva, but that didn't mean he was interested in watching what he considered to be a private act. Keiran decided that, oddly enough, checking out the brothel would be a safer course of action.
Several minutes passed as he watched people come and go. I wonder if any of these people are the Crow we're after. I should have asked Zev for a description.
“Here you are, mi amora.”
Keiran looked up at Zevran, who was holding out a golden brown cone with a heap of an unknown white substance spilling out of it. “And what is this?” he asked as took the strange item.
Zevran slid gracefully into the chair opposite Keiran. He was holding a similar item, but the mound on top of his cone was red. “This,” he said with a flourish, “is ice cream, and it is the perfect treat on a hot day. They just started making it again this week. If I'm not mistaken, you have nothing similar back in Ferelden.”
“Not that I'm aware of.” But there's still a lot of things about the human world I'm not aware of, so there could be. He looked at the ice cream cone dubiously. “So... I'm supposed to... eat this?”
Zevran laughed. “There is no need to look so worried. Just give it a lick.” Zevran demonstrated. “See?”
Keiran gave the white mound an cautious lick and scooped up some of the ice cream with his tongue. He gasped in surprise at the cold in his mouth.
“It is good, yes?”
Keiran licked again. Now that he was expecting the chill he could focus on the taste, and he found it to be surprisingly sweet. “Wow. How do they make something so cold in this heat? Magic?”
“It is a Tevinter creation,” Zevran explained. “During the winter season, snow and ice are taken from the mountains and stored underground until summer starts. The ingredients are mixed in an enchanted bowl, which is then placed in a larger bowl of ice and salt. The enchantments and ice water bring down the temperature of the mixture until it freezes and thickens into this. My countrymen created a variation we call gelato, which is much smoother in texture, but is far too sweet for my liking.” At Keiran's curious look, he added, “I posed as an apprentice in a place similar to this during my time as a Crow. It was part of my duties to make ice cream.”
“Who was your mark? The shopkeeper?”
“His wife. I believe she was involved in a smuggling ring, and was cheating her associates out of the profits. They were unhap-” Zevran suddenly dropped his voice to a whisper. “I believe our mark has arrived.”
Keiran turned his head slightly to the left to get a better look. “Who?”
“The elven lad with red hair.”
Keiran nodded. “I see him.” Thankfully, their target did not seem to notice them, and he sauntered into the brothel as if he were the owner. “Did your contact say how long he stays in there?”
“It varies, but no more than one hour.”
Then all we can do is wait. While keeping one eye on the brothel door, just in case, Keiran returned most of his attention to his sweet treat. And enjoy this. He felt so much cooler already; the ice cream was a welcome relief from the sticky Antivan heat.
Zevran caught his eye and grinned seductively. He slowly licked up the side of his mound of ice cream while maintaining eye contact. When he reached the top, he swirled his tongue suggestively around it in a very familiar motion...
Keiran shifted uncomfortably in his seat and was suddenly glad his armor had flaps below the waist. He raised an eyebrow and said, “I thought the goal was to cool off... not to turn up the heat.”
Zevran only grinned wider. “I don't know what you are talking about,” he said innocently. “I am simply trying to enjoy my ice cream.”
"Yes, of course you are," Keiran shot back, but he was unable to hide his smile.
The two elves stared at each other for several seconds, then burst out laughing.
“It is... good to hear you laugh like that again,” Zevran admitted several minutes later.
Keiran matched Zevran's warm smile with one of his own. “It's good to want to laugh again. And I have you to thank for helping me get to this point,” he said sincerely.
Zevran waved a hand dismissively. “I merely pushed you down the correct path. You helped yourself.”
Keiran disagreed with that statement, but did not want to delve further into this topic in public. In his mind, he was still not fully recovered from his ordeal, and he often wondered if there was such a thing as “fully recovered” from what he had gone through. He still had nightmares and flashbacks of his time in that cold cell, but they were much less frequent now. Unfortunately, he had not regained full range of motion in his arms. It was frustrating, but Keiran had reluctantly come to accept that there were some things he could no longer do.
He said nothing, and the two elves settled into a comfortable silence. Keiran reached out and laced his fingers with those of Zevran's free hand. They'd had too few moments between attacking the Crows and being attacked to just be, and he was going to take advantage of this one. And if made them blend in with the other couples sitting near them, so much the better.
After a long wait, the red-haired elf emerged from the brothel with a spring in his step. Keiran and Zevran quickly abandoned their table and followed him at a safe distance. With any luck, this man would lead them right to the Guildmaster, and Zevran would be free at last...