Toss him around

Dalish, ah yes this made sense, somehow. It made him think of his mother. She had been part of a Dalish Clan, before she left to be with his city elf father. Circumstances hadn’t been kind to Zevran’s early childhood and his mother would end up a prostitute. He’d often wondered how things might have been different if she hadn’t left her clan, or perhaps if she’d tried to go back to them instead of the life she ended up with.

In another life I could have been Dalish with a Vallasin. My mother was Dalish, but circumstances were not friendly to us, so I associate more as City Elf with a Dalish heritage I never really learned. She never liked to talk much about her time in the Clan. Maybe she regretted leaving, maybe her situation there had been so intolerable that she had jumped at the first city elf that showed an inclination of interest in her just to get way from the Clan.

I suppose, perhaps, I should be curiouser about our heritage as elves, and it’s not that I’m not. I just have such a full plate trying to dismantle the Crows and help the Red Jennies, I simply haven’t had time to think about it. The past pales in comparison to my present. It would just never be a real priority for Zevran. Sure if he came across Elvhen things in his work with the Red Jennies, he made sure it went to the right place, but that was different from making it one’s main mission in life. Then Zevran grinned at Ruth’s remark about not having any taste buds left.

How lonely your tongue must be without them. He said with a grin, a flicker of his usual flirty self showing through once more.