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Come here for musebox stuff, PSLs, or post-captcha meme continuation. Put the verse or PSL or whatever in the subject line plz.
Hit this up if you know me and have an idea. Hit me up if you don't know me, we've never interacted IC or OOC, and you have an idea. Hit this up for any and all reasons. I welcome everything.
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Not all of Haven's residents are bad, though. Luckily, there's at least one who has a charming sense of humor.
"You'd think that, with something like the end of the world hanging over their heads, people might be drinking like it's the end of the world."
Not an especially pious introduction for the alleged Herald of Andraste as she approaches the dwarf standing near a fire, but an introduction all the same. Technically, of course, they'd already been introduced, since he'd been there to help the Seeker and the apostate ferry her to the ruins of the Temple.
Cecily clears her throat, trying to look more at ease than she feels.
"... D'you mind if I ask you something? If you've a moment."
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"For the Herald, I might even have two." Playfully. "What's on your mind?"
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Devoured it might be a better term, since she'd grown to have something like a celebrity crush on the infamous Hawke, one not made better by Varric Tethras' work. As such, the Herald tries to look as absolutely casual as possible, like her unanswered questions won't keep her up at night.
They won't anymore; she has other, more important things on her mind for once.
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Because, between him and the literal Herald of the prophet Andraste, who fell out of a hole in the sky that killed the Divine and ended the mage war, Varric is definitely the celebrity.
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She'd run away there, once. It'd been the site of her first 'dalliance,' as her mother has called it (them). Of course, she had been preoccupied with making trouble and hadn't exactly taken in the city, and that had been before it became famous in Varric's tale, sometime just before the Fereldan refugees overran the place.
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Truth be told, Varric gave a different answer every time someone asked that question. He truly, honestly didn't know. There were a lot of things to love about Kirkwall, and a lot of things to hate.
"But what about you, your Worship?" he smirks.
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"Would you like my opinion on Kirkwall specifically? I'm afraid I can't say that I know it very well at all. Most of my opinions were formed on the things I read about it."
From Varric, primarily, but she's trying not to be too weird about it.
"I think it's a bit - well, what you said. There are so many different people there that you would never have exposure to, otherwise." She pauses, glancing around them, and then chuckles weakly. "It's a bit like Haven, at the moment, isn't it?"
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A lean forward signaled the upcoming dramatic punchline. "Creepy-ass history." Varric tapped the side of his nose knowingly. "Between the two of them, Haven might actually give Kirkwall a run for its money."
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"I've heard a bit of it from Leliana and from books, but - yes, I think creepy-ass history describes Haven well." Will she see ghosts as she sleeps? Probably. Seems like that kind of place. "At least things seem decidedly less cult-y now."
There's a dry laugh as she looks at the anchor, expression flattening.
"Or not so much."
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"Nah, at least this cult has more to go on than 'oooh, it's a giant fuck-off dragon, let's worship it!' You?" he continues, with a languid sip of his drink. "Stumbling out of the Fade on the heels of Blessed Andraste? Now that's some primo cult fodder right there. Only the best for us."
He says it with the easy smarm of a used car salesman plying his wares, as if this was a product to be hawked on the streets rather than a topic of religious devotion.
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The Herald looks briefly annoyed at her inability to do this and abandons the effort. For now.
"Happy to contribute to the primo cult fodder, in any case."