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[undwarfy]

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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[questionablewit]

She leans her head on his once he's in place, rolls her eyes right on cue when he does that lecherous little snuggle. It's an old game, as much a part of them as the endless banter. "Ten years and you can't find a nickname that fits. I really must be unique." She takes another drink. "Well, me and Aveline. Though she's a special case."

Right, back to the hard subjects. But then she laughs. It's short, aborted halfway through, but it's there. "He said that around me a few times. I'd actually forgotten."

It's...strange, to have a good memory back. It's not that she's only remembered the bad things, it's just that so many of the good memories are edged. "He told me he used to be something of a peacock. Pierced ears, lots of jewelry. Tevinter robes, even, the ones that are more an excuse for showing off your abs than actual clothing."

[undwarfy]

"I think that's what his robes were- but with sleeves and shit. Those feathered pauldrons are classic Tevinter."

Maker's breath, it's comfy here. And for once it has almost nothing to do with proximity to breasts- it's just about comfort, and closeness, and the steady drum of her heartbeat softly thumping away in his ear. The weight of her arm around him. Comfortable.

He leans the flask awkwardly over her chest to take a drink. "I asked him about the earrings once, after Isabela mentioned them. He said some kid tried to mug him his first night in Kirkwall. Blondie felt so bad for the little twerp that he handed the earrings over. Apparently they were real gold."

I hadn't lost it, just gone oddly blank? But have some BS

[questionablewit]

It's...nice, to be held like this. She can't remember the last time she was. Not since Bethany left to go back to Kirkwall, possibly.

Well, there's Teo. There's always Teo, and thank the Maker for her lovable incorrigible hound. But that's different.

"Spill that on my chest and there will be pain," she says, almost absently, as she notices the precarious way he's drinking near her cleavage. Hazards of the position. "That sounds like him. I still think it was blighted miraculous that he was able to survive in Darktown at all, living as he did. Even with your help."

She knows what kept the Carta and Coterie and quite possible some of the Templars away, Varric.

[undwarfy]

"What, I couldn't just lick it off?" Varric mumbles, his sarcasm almost toothless.

A stupid comment, but easier than responding to Hawke's other comment. Thinking about how Blondie survived Darktown would just make him think about how he didn't.

[questionablewit]

"You should be so lucky." It's an automatic response, part of the give and take of tease and rebuff (with both happening on both sides, varyingly), as natural as breathing. After the past few years of wandering on her own and avoiding getting close to people, it's been a surprise how easy it's been to just fall back into the old habits of being with Varric, not just conversation-wise but physically.

Thank Andraste for that, especially now.

"Besides, this sand gets everywhere and you'd probably grate your tongue off." She swipes the flask back and takes another long drink. It's starting to burn, in that pleasant way really good whiskey does. "I never did find out what his name used to be, did you know? Never even asked. Wish I had, though I don't imagine he would've answered. What do you suppose it was?"

[undwarfy]

"Probably something depressingly Ferelden," he answered with surprisingly little pause. It was something he'd thought about before, at great length. Never knew when he might have to bullshit a 'real name' for the infamous apostate. "Aemon or Neville."

He settles into her a little more, staring out at the sand. "Then you'd have an Anderfels last name- like Hermann or Martin. Maybe Schrieber."

[questionablewit]

"Neville Hermann. No wonder he didn't answer to it." She chuckled, then sighed. "He was named after his father, I'm sure. Whatever it was. Small wonder he didn't keep it."

Varric must know enough of Anders' history to understand why the mage would reject his name after that. Anders always claimed that the Templars wouldn't call him anything but "that Anders boy" at first, until finally he refused to answer to anything else, but Hawke suspects his father is the real reason. And that's a subject that was even more rarely discussed. There was always a large Do Not Enter! sign barricaded across Anders' life before he entered the Circle.

Not that she blamed him.

The subject of names in general reminded her of something else, and she laughed a little more. "I remember walking in on the two of you discussing once why people never named places things like Kittenmarsh or Shinytown. Given that and what he named his cats, we should probably be grateful he went for Anders in the end, and not something more absurd. Sparky the Wonder Mage."

It was possible the whiskey was starting to go to her head a little bit.