Friday, 2nd of Umbralis
You end up in bed about twelve thirty, and have the foresight to move the laundry basket to make a mini-staircase up to your bed. You don’t need to be woken up by pathetic mewling in the middle of the night because Atisha can’t figure out how to climb up. It seems to work, because once you’re settled in, Fen climbs his way up and stomps all over you for a little while before bouncing off again.
They let you sleep, which is nice.
Still, when you wake up around eight thirty, it’s because someone is kneading tiny kitten claws into your arm. You should probably get them a nice scratching post at some point. Speaking of, hey, it’s pay day!
Bless direct deposit, right?
So, you had about a hundred bucks (yikes) left in your account after your rent was withdrawn, and now you have about nine hundred fifty bucks. Your rent is paid for the month, but because you’re super responsible and adult, you immediately tick off four hundred of that for the next month’s rent, like you do every pay period. That leaves you with five fifty, and four hundred bucks in car payments waiting for you.
Eyes glazing over yet?
You’ve got six months to pay off four hundred bucks. Your bills are paid through your rent, which is eight hundred a month. You’ve got the basics of food covered for the next month or so, as long as you don’t get tired of rice and beans and frozen meat…listen, the gist of it is, your hardcore adulting is paying off.
You weren’t planning to buy any holiday gifts, but…you actually might be able to now, if you wanted to.
Still, money stuff can wait. Time to heave your butt out of bed, or not.
Remember those flyers? We should get ourselves ready for work and for tonight, and then head to the mall.
You get yourself up, obediently bringing Atisha, who seems to consider being carried in the crook of your arm her rightful position, as she happily claw-massages your forearm into submission. If she wasn’t purring so happily, you might be annoyed.
As a new kitten owner, your arms already look like you’ve been attacked by the world’s smallest serial killer anyways, what’s a few more marks?
All three of you have breakfast, you handle the necessary kitten chores, and then you hop in the shower (they’re having none of that). By the time you get that handled, it’s about a quarter after nine, and you’re left with a vital decision.
You’re leaving directly from work tonight to who knows where. Apart from the fight of ‘is this a date or not’, you literally don’t know where you’re going to end up. How do you know what’s appropriate to wear?
Let’s go semi-casual, but nice. A nice sweater, and the pants that make your butt look good, boots. A little makeup.
You’re conflicted, but in the end decide that you’d rather be safe than sorry. Besides, the sweater’s cute, your butt looks good, and even if you’re not overdoing the makeup, you can at least fuss with your hair a bit. You can always dress up tomorrow if you feel like it.
And, really, you have to work beforehand, so…
You still toss some makeup in your bag, and then make food for work. A little on the big side, but you are going to be gone over lunch. You’re ready to head out, it’s just before ten, and you have about a dozen flyers in your bag.
You say goodbye to the kittens, bundle up well, and head out. The sky’s clear, which means it’s colder than ever, the frost spiky with frost. And…so is your car. You hustle to it and huddle into your seat, praying for the heater to start working. Luckily it’s just frost, which melts quickly enough once you turn the defrost on.
No need to go scrape the windshield, at least not yet.
You head out, trying to figure out where you’re going to start your mission of charity.
Let's go to Red Jenny
Deciding to go with the easiest one first, you park near the middle south entrance and head in. The movie theater’s across the way as you head in with the crowd, and you glance over the sign as you let yourself be pulled along. Lots of big blockbusters this time of year.
The holiday music is sort of assaulting you on all sides- the faint sound of mall piano frequently eclipsed by the stuff blaring at you out of shops. Well, most shops. One of the ones you pass by is pretty much dead quiet, and surprisingly dark. The sign you glance at reads ‘The Wilds’. Did you notice it before? Hard to say, this isn’t where you usually come in.
It looks interesting from what you can see.
Maybe there will be time to go poke your nose in later, or another time.
You turn the corridor and head down the main drag, noticing when you pass by it that Antivan Exports is still closed. You cross the corridor obliquely, making right for Red Jenny. It’s somewhat busy, but mostly with teenagers. Fenris and someone you don’t know are at the counter, ignoring each other. He looks tired.
You have a feeling he looks tired a lot, though, or at least world-weary.
“Hey, Fenris.” You greet, and he looks up from a clipboard.
“Oh. Good morning.” He greets you, not sounding like he means the ‘good’ part. “Shopping today, or just enjoying the sight of people wasting both money and sanity?”
“Helping out someone with some charity stuff.” You explain, reaching into your bag and pulling out one of the flyers, approaching the counter.
If you want I can draw some anarchy symbols on it, make it fit in.
“I would laugh, but it is an unfortunate truth that it probably would help.” Fenris says, sighing heavily as he reaches out a hand and takes the flyer.
“Hey, at least they’re predictable.” You point out, and then grin when he rolls his eyes.
“A clothing drive? Practical, how surprising.” Fenris remarks half under his breath, just enough that you’re not sure if he expects you to respond or not.
“Yeah, it’s going to be a cold winter.” You say, musing, “I should probably find a nice thrift store or something myself, get some things to donate.”
“Go to the other register.” He orders a semi-confused looking teenage girl just about to unload her armful in front of his register.
While she stares, he leans down and grabs a tape dispenser from under his register, and then steps around the counter.
“There are a few halfway decent thrift stores in the area.” Fenris continues, as you trail him to the front window, “You shouldn’t have any trouble finding one.”
Thanks, I really appreciate you doing this for me.
“It takes very little effort on my part.” He tells you, tearing down some sort of poster for a band event. He gives it a cursory look, and then crumples it up, “And at least you asked. Most people do not even bother to do so.”
“Well, that’s rude.” You say, accepting the crumpled paper as he passes it to you.
“The average person has absolutely no idea what manners are.” Fenris says, still rather deadpan, taping up the flyer in the window, “And they don’t care to find out.”
“Hmmh.” You say thoughtfully, following him as he turns back for the counter, “Isn’t that a bit…”
“Pessimistic? Yes, it is.” Fenris says, extending a hand for the crumpled paper, “Thank you for holding that.”
“You’re welcome.” You say automatically, “Well, at least you didn’t say it was realistic.”
“I know I suffer from pessimism, and there is no such thing as being realistic. What is reality?” He asks rhetorically, tossing the paper in the trash, and then turning back to his register, seeming to be in no hurry to shoo you off to work, “Subjective, at best, and a delusion to stave off complete insanity at worst.”
Do you do a lot of thinking about the nature of reality while working retail?
“More than you might imagine.” Fenris says, and then finally cracks a smile at you, reaching out to the side.
You watch in silence for a minute as he rings someone up, not even bothering to greet them. The disinterest doesn’t seem to be unexpected, though, because the eyeliner-assaulted kid at the counter doesn’t make a peep, passing over his card without a word when Fenris extends a hand for it.
“Have you been writing much?” He asks you, as he swipes it, making you aware that he probably doesn’t care if you keep talking while he works.
“A bit. I spent some time at a coffee shop yesterday with my laptop. I felt very urban.” You joke with a small grin.
“In front of people?” He says, sound a little uncertain, “That doesn’t make you uncomfortable?”
“No, it’s not like anyone’s looking over my shoulder reading it.” You say, lifting your shoulders in a small shrug, “Everyone’s worried about their own stuff.”
“I suppose that is true.” He says, but doesn’t sound terribly convinced.
Do you write? I’m starting to get the feeling you do.
“No.” He replies instantly, practically interrupting you.
“Well, okay then. I was just…”
“I apologize, that was rude.” He says, this time actually interrupting you.
You consider saying something again, but settle for crossing your arms and staring at him, tapping a foot. He glances sidelong at you, barely managing to hide the edge of a smile.
“And that was as well.” He admits at last, shaking his head, “I am sorry.”
“Forgiven.” You say, noting that maybe that’s a bit of a sore spot.
“I would really rather not talk about that here. I realize that I brought it up, so saying that is a bit contrary.” Fenris says, sounding a bit less tense now, leaning a hip against the counter, “I may be a bit contrary.”
“No!” You pretend to gasp, and then return the smile you managed to prod out of him, “I never would have guessed it.”
He picks up a discarded receipt from the sticker-encrusted countertop, crumples it up, and flicks it at your forehead. He has pretty good aim.
You know anywhere else that might let me put up a flyer?
“Don’t bother with most of the chain stores.” He instructs, thoughtfully, “Merrill will, Cole next door probably will, I would go to Josephine’s as well, the chocolate shop. Perhaps the record store, but it is difficult to say.”
“I don’t actually know where Merrill works.” You confess, thinking, “Do I?”
“She works at the flower shop down at the southwest entrance. Across from the Templar.” He instructs, “If you go down there, and then head straight north towards Valmont you’ll find a few places, and pass by the chocolate shop.”
“Got it.” You say, nodding your head, “Thanks again for your help.”
“Thank you for caring about people who need caring about.” He replies, gravelly voice still flat, “Most people don’t bother. I’ll see you tomorrow night, if I feel like going. I work late.”
“Sounds good, see you!” You say, lifting a hand in farewell as you head off.
You glance down at your phone as you head back out into the noise and crowd. Almost eleven thirty. You have until one thirty or so before you need to think seriously about heading to work. Plenty of time, if you don’t get hung up too much.
You realize, after a few seconds, that you’re humming holiday music again. Spending so much time in the mall really gets it stuck in your head.
Let’s stop in at Antediluvia, and then follow his advice and go to the flower shop.
Feeling more motivated to get some of these charity flyers posted before you head to work, you pop next door. Cole’s alone in the shop, unsurprisingly, but more surprisingly, there’s a few people browsing! Well, hey, that’s cool.
He brightens up as he catches sight of you, lifting a hand in greeting as you wander over to the counter.
“Hi, Cole!” You greet with a smile, “Listen, I don’t mean to be a bother, but I’m trying to get these flyers put up for a clothes drive.”
You hand one to him, and he takes it quite seriously, gazing down at it.
“I have to work, I’m sorry I can’t help you.” He says, a bit worriedly.
“No, no. I was hoping it would be okay to put one up here? Maybe in the window, or at the counter?” You ask, and then smile when he gives a faint ‘umm’. “If you don’t know, maybe just hang onto it and ask Solas when he gets in?”
“I can do that.” Cole replies, relieved. Carefully, he sets the flyer under the counter on a shelf, “I don’t think he’ll say no.”
“If he does, that’s okay.” You assure, with a shrug of your shoulders, “It’s his shop.”
“Do you like…things like this? Helping people?” Cole asks, glancing at the pile of flyers still in your hand.
“When I can. Sometimes it’s hard, and I’m new here, so…” You say, glancing down at the flyers in your hand.
“Do you like playing card games?”
“Cards? I…guess, sure.” You say, with a slightly puzzled smile.
“On Sunday I go to the senior center. Do you want to come with me?” Cole asks you, hopefully.
Absolutely! Yes. That sounds like fun.
“I will…” Cole starts, and then stops, flustered, when someone approaches the counter.
“I’ll text you later.” You promise, stepping back and out of the way, “I’ve gotta keep moving, I work this afternoon. Thanks for doing that for me!”
“You are welcome.” Cole says with a lift of his hand.
You turn and head out, with the occasional peek into the cases. There’s some small engraved silver mirrors that look interesting, you should ask Solas about them some time.
With your destination in mind, you forge through the teeming crowds, ducking and weaving through people as you fight the direction of the tide and head towards an exit, not away from it. Passing by the Templar and Mabari sport, you eventually find the small flower shop next to the entrance. ‘Bellanaris Floral’ the top of the windows read, in a scrolling white script. The displays are full of holiday arrangements, and Merrill is behind the counter, looking a bit flustered as she faces down a customer.
You duck in, pushing open the door with your shoulder, the warm air inside the shop beckoning you in.
“And it’s been less than a week, and they’re already dying!” The man in front of the counter says, irritably.
“Well, sir…they’re cut flowers.” Merrill replies, obviously confused, “That’s what…that’s what they do? If you keep them watered and cared for they’ll last you a bit longer, but…”
“You sold me trash. I want my refund.” He accuses, and Merrill frowns.
“Well, no, that’s not true at all.” She contradicts, a little heatedly, “I sold you cut flowers. Cut flowers die. Perhaps next time you should just buy a nice potted plant.”
“They should last longer than a couple of days, don’t argue with me. Where is your manager?”
“Well, sir, I have your order right here, and it says you picked them up over two weeks ag…” Merrill starts, and then goes silent as the man turns around and storms out of the shop, nearly running into you.
There’s silence in the shop for a second, as the door clicks shut, before Merrill finally gives an explosive, exasperated sigh.
“Why wouldn’t he just listen?” She asks herself, a little bit miserably.
Hey, Merrill, you okay?
“Oh!” Merrill exclaims, startled, turning her attention to you, “Oh dear…yes, I’m all right. I think.”
You stare at each other for a couple seconds, before you finally grin, lifting a hand to her.
“Hi.” You greet properly.
“Hello.” She replies, finally looking like she’s starting to relax, “How are you today?”
“Doing okay. I’m just wandering around bugging people.” You explain, approaching the counter and offering her one of the flyers to look at. She takes it from you, examining it, “Just helping someone out, asking people if they’ll put up a flyer.”
“Well, of course I will.” Merrill says agreeably, nodding her head as she reaches for a nearby tape dispenser, “This is the sort of thing people should be doing around a holiday, not causing a fuss.”
“Thank you so much, that’s really nice of you.” You tell her, watching as she steps around the counter to tape it up.
“It’s a very small thing to do, but every little bit helps, doesn’t it?” She says cheerfully, frowns completely gone.
Do you arrange the flowers yourself? They’re so pretty!
“I have, yes! Not all of them, but some of them.” Merrill agrees, reaching under the counter and pulling out a heavy binder. She thumps it down, and explains, “Most of the designs are right in here. So, you don’t get to be that creative, but sometimes they let me make what I like.”
“Are any of these your design?” You ask, turning to look at the arrangements on display, and in the refrigerated case.
“The all white one, with roses and the andraste’s grace with the bits of gold…just a little something I thought was nice.” Merrill replies, seeming a little flustered, “Nothing too fancy, but…lots of people are doing silver and gold this year, you know. Less bright colors.”
“I like it. It’s elegant.” You decide, meeting her smile.
“You’re so sweet, thank you.” Merrill says, and then busies her hands flipping through the binder, “Oh dear. I still need to finish Leandra’s centerpiece. I promised Hawke I’d get it done today.”
Work doesn’t wait, I guess! Will I see you tomorrow?
“Ooh! Yes! The party!” Merrill declares, brightening visibly, “I was asking Hawke why she hadn’t invited you, but Isabela said you were already coming. Isn’t that funny?”
“Yeah, I work with Sera, she’s a friend of mine.” You explain, and Merrill gives a little ‘ah’. “So, I’ll see you then.”
“Yes, that’s right!” Merrill says, and then waves to you when you lift a hand.
The door chimes as you push it open with your shoulder, the chill from the exit doors hitting you. Brr. Not even those massive heaters just inside can quite keep back the creeping winter. Turning, you gaze up the hall, considering your options.
You’re heading up towards the intersection when you’re forced to stop short, startled. Stepping back quickly, you watch as a massive bright red SALE sign flutters down from the ceiling, having nearly landed on your head.
Eyes narrowing, you glance up, hands on your hips.
Alistair blinks down at you from the top of his ladder, and then turns bright red. You’re pretty sure he’s about to start stammering.
Like last time.
So is trying to knock over girls just your thing, or am I special?
“Aha…well, that’s a tricky question, isn’t it?” Alistair replies, speaking quickly to cover his obvious embarrassment, “I know they say to make women feel special, but I have a feeling injuring people doesn’t quite have the intended effect.”
“Depends on what kind of stuff she’s into.” You reply, crouching down and picking up the heavy, awkward sign.
“Right, I…oh! Haha…ha.” He laughs awkwardly, and when you glance up to hand him the sign, you realize you’ve gone and gotten him flustered again. He clears his throat, and accepts the sign from you, “I…thank you. I apologize.”
“You didn’t hit me.” You assure, and then add with a grin, “This time, at least.”
“You win some, you lose some.” He jokes, and then adds a bit hastily, almost dropping the sign again, “Not that I was trying to, I mean, I was…”
Alistair stops and sighs, shaking his head.
“It’s fine.” You laugh, taking a step back to watch as he turns to try and tack up the sign again, at the top of the doorway, “Is that really a great place for that? You’re gonna have kids jumping up trying to grab it.”
“This is where they want it.” He sighs.
Hey, I’m going around putting up flyers for a charity clothing drive. Do you think I could put up one here?
“I don’t see why not.” Alistair says agreeably, if somewhat distractedly, still tacking up his sign.
You fall silent for a minute, waiting patiently as he finishes up the job, and then clambers down the ladder. At the bottom, he blinks and glances at you, as if confused to still see you there.
“I mean in the store.” You clarify, a little uncertainly, and then laugh, “I’m not just going to walk on in and stick one up somewhere.”
“No, of course not. That would be silly.” Alistair says, a little bit sarcastically as he picks up the ladder, “No one would possibly think that.”
“Nope, no one at all!” You agree cheerfully, trailing after him as he wanders back into the store.
There’s a man standing behind the counter, you have a feeling he’s been watching you both. Arms folded over his chest, bearded face impassive, you’re not sure if he’s actually annoyed or not.
“Sign’s up, Duncan.” Alistair calls over casually, and then adds, “This ah…young lady has a flyer for a charity thing…”
“A charity clothes drive.” You explain, letting the ‘young lady’ part go, pulling out one of the papers.
“Yes, thank you. And she was hoping we could put it up.” Alistair finishes.
“I have no problem with that.” Duncan says, voice pleasant, “Provided you’re not too long at it.”
“That’s his way of saying I talk to much.” Alistair confides aside at you, setting the ladder down and holding out a hand for the flyer.
Thanks for taking it. I’d better keep moving, though, I have a lot to do.
“You…You’re welcome!” Alistair calls as you wave and turn away.
He’s nice.
Feeling more and more pleased with every flyer handed out, you head northwards up the thoroughfare, making up for lost time. The guys at the cell shop say they can’t take one, but you’re not surprised about that. Templar is about as corporate as it gets. You manage to give away a couple, but you still have a few left as you realize you’re at Montilyet’s, the little chocolate shop to your left.
Finally, at last, it seems like you’re going to meet the mysterious Miss Josephine you keep hearing about over and over. If…she’s there.
When you turn to head in, however, there’s a very, very familiar face at the counter.
Zevran.
“Is there anywhere you don’t work?” You ask him, laughing as you head for the counter.
He glances at you, and actually looks surprised for a second before giving a small chuckle, adjusting his apron.
“I would have you know, I only have…three jobs. Right now.” He informs you, and then tilts his head to the side, “I am only helping Josephine out for the holiday.”
Is she in? I was hoping I could put up a flyer for a charity clothes drive.
“In the back, yes.” Zevran says, pushing off of the tall display counter with both hands, “Give me a moment?”
“I suppose I can just quietly pine while you’re gone.” You tease.
With a gasp, Zevran clasps a hand to his heart, giving you a forlorn look as he walks backwards through the swinging door. You laugh, shaking your head as your eyes inevitably turn to the case.
Chocolates. You’ve had one before, so you know they’re good. You got paid today. The temptation is there.
When was the last time you wasted a little money on yourself?
Before you can sink too deeply into the contemplation of vice, the door swings open again, and a woman bustles out. Her dark hair is swept up neatly, apron surprisingly tidy, and a warm smile on her face. She turns it instantly on you, and you return it reflexively.
“Hello.” She greets you, extending a hand over the counter, “I am Josephine Montilyet.”
You introduce yourself, taking her hand, and then slip out a flyer before you can waste too much of her time. She, like so many people you’ve seen today, seems quite busy.
“There’s a charity clothing drive going on, and I was hoping I could put up a flyer?” You explain with a smile, passing it over to her.
“Let me just see…” Josephine says, taking the paper and scanning over it, “Ah. Through the Chantry. Yes. I would be happy to put this up for you.”
That’s great! Thank you so much.
“It is not a problem at all.” Josephine says briskly, stepping around the counter and heading for the front window of the shop, “It is a charity that I can in good conscience support.”
“I guess these days you can’t be completely sure.” You agree ruefully, following after her with a last lingering glance at the display case. “It’s funny, I kept hearing your name all the time, but we never ended up meeting before now!”
“You have?” Josephine asks, with a hint of intrigue, “From who?”
“Oh well, Zevran and Leliana, and Mister Blackwall, over at the hardware store?” You say, musing to yourself, “Well, I doubt Leliana remembers me, we only met that once.”
“Really? He mentioned me?” Josephine asks curiously, though the slightly worried look on her face when you mention Leliana doesn’t escape your notice.
“I came by after you and Leliana had dropped off the Satinalia decorations.” You explain, “I had a couple repairs to do to my new apartment, he was helping me out.”
“Ah, well. He is a…very kind man.” Josephine agrees, with a small smile.
The smile doesn’t hide the fact that you think she might have looked disappointed for a second.
So is Mister Blackwall a friend of yours…?
“An acquaintance.” Josephine says with a small smile, heading back for the counter, leaving the flyer in the window. “He makes the most beautiful furniture, you know. I bought a set of his chairs for my mother and father.”
“I saw! It was amazing.” You agree, following her back to the counter, “Way out of my price range, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate it.”
“He tried to give me a discount, but I insisted. It will last for ages, it’s well worth the price.” Josephine says, frowning for a moment, “Of course, I tell him that and he scoffs and changes the subject. I have told him, he should sell it online. I even helped him set up a website, but he simply will not…”
She stops short, glancing at you and flushing slightly.
“It’s okay.” You assure, laughing slightly, “And I agree. I mean, furniture these days is all just slap-together stuff.”
“Precisely. Furniture should last generations.” Josephine agrees, exasperation leeching into her voice, “That man is just too…too modest.”
She says it almost like an epithet, but starts laughing with you when you do, shaking her head slowly.
I think it’s really great you’re so willing to help him.
“Oh. Well, I admit, it is nice to keep my hand in.” Josephine admits, glancing over her shoulder as Zevran wanders out of the back with a tray, “I have so little time these days for such things, what with running the family business.”
“By yourself?” You ask with surprise, “Is this the only shop?”
“There are three. I have considered expanding, but just try to convince Orlesians to eat Antivan chocolate.” Josephine says, sounding thoroughly exasperated, “It does not happen. Absolutely no market. Do not misunderstand, I do love Orlesian chocolate.”
“But they are stuffy and boring and do not enjoy new things.” Zevran interjects wryly, grinning at the sidelong look Josephine gives him, “You know it is true.”
“Orlesian chocolatiers prefer traditional methods.” Josephine admits with a little sigh.
“She is very diplomatic. It is a good skill to have.” Zevran declares, deftly unloading his tray, “I, on the other hand, can say that they are terribly dull.”
“Compared to you, Zevran, most people are.” Josephine retorts, with a smile.
“So true, so true.” He sighs.
Well, I sure don’t want to be dull. Do you sell anything particularly unique?
Apparently they’re both rather pleased with your suggestion, because they start making suggestions at each other. You just stand there, a little bemused, stepping aside as Zevran tends to an actual customer.
Not that you’re not an actual customer, but…
“Do you want to know what they are, or be surprised?” Josephine asks you.
Oh. Apparently you’re shopping. Well, you had your chance to escape, it looks like you’re going to have to succumb to the inevitable. It’s not really that expensive, but…
“I don’t mind a surprise, but I am pretty curious.” You decide, and then add apologetically, “But I am on a budget.”
“Oh no, no. Just to try.” Josephine assures you, warmly, “We do not sell so many of the ah…interesting ones. I enjoy making them!”
“Are you sure?” You ask, a little uncertainly, but only get waved off as she moves down to the smaller trays.
You follow, examining the chocolates curiously. These ones are interesting. More designs, dustings of various spices, even some with what look like flower petals on them.
“This one I enjoy quite a bit.” Josephine tells you, selecting a small, dark glossy chocolate with what looks like a sprinkling of…
Is that black pepper?
With some trepidation, second-guessing your earlier braveness, you take the chocolate and pop it into your mouth before you can change your mind. You bite in, and realize it’s actually a truffle as it melts away on your tongue.
Okay, that’s really nice chocolate.
Nice chocolate that can’t hide the fact that you seem to have just bitten into a raspberry and black pepper truffle.
Okay, that’s actually really good. You never would have thought it, but…wow.
You make enough happy noises while chewing that Josephine seems to get the message, and you don’t have to wax too poetic when you’re done. Partially because she’s already busily examining her little trays in search of the next unusual thing to ply you with.
“How are you with spice?” She asks you distractedly, and then glances up when you fail to answer.
Holding up a finger, you finish chewing, swallowing heavily to clear your throat.
“I do all right.” You finally manage, clearing your throat.
The nice thing about chocolates is the flavor kind of tends to stick around, but apparently you’re expected to try more. Josephine selects two for you, one an odd shape, like something’s been covered in chocolate and then decorated with little flakes of salt. The second one looks fairly innocuous, but that only makes you more suspicious.
“That is…crystallized pineapple, hot pepper, and dark chocolate.” Josephine says proudly, pointing to the first one, and then gestures to the second, “That is a mulled wine truffle.”
Oh wow, those both sound amazing. Which one should I try first? You’re the expert.
“The wine.” Josephine declares, and you obediently reach for it, “The pineapple has very strong flavor, it might linger a bit too long.”
“I hope you don’t mind if I watch.” Zevran abruptly says, as you lift the chocolate from the counter, “I do like to watch.”
“Zevran!” Josephine scolds, giving him a little push, “Go mind the register!”
You pause to laugh, watching as he sighs and saunters back to his post. Josephine sighs, shaking her head as she glances back to you.
“I cannot do a thing with him.” She says, cracking a smile herself.
You were going to answer, but, well…chocolate. You pop it into your mouth, letting it melt for a minute before biting into it. It’s lovely, just a tiny hint tart, with all the sharp richness of the red wine and a little spike of what you think is orange, before all the spices take over.
It’s really nice, warm and cozy. Wintery. You’re still sort of lingering over it, when you remember that you really should be getting on with it. Swallowing heavily, you reach for the last one, biting into it instead of putting the whole thing into your mouth.
It’s…wow.
You’re biting through the slightly tougher pineapple when the heat hits the roof of your mouth and tongue, and you’re pretty sure your cheeks flush. The fruit is plenty sweet, though, and the chocolate is rich, with just a little salt to bring it together.
She’s good.
You can’t leave without buying something. You might have to run to work, but it’s worth it.
A bit flustered by the lack of time, you nevertheless take a couple minutes to purchase something. A dozen chocolates, in a pretty little white and gold box doesn’t cut too deeply into your bank account. Impressed by what you’ve been enjoying, you trust in Josephine to pick them out, and it’s all done rather quickly in deference to your haste.
That’ll be a nice surprise when you have time to dip into them.
Once you’ve paid, and said your hasty goodbyes to her and Zevran, you’re forced to flee out of the mall, the rest of your flyers sadly un-hung. Still, you can maybe put some up tomorrow? It’s not that bad, you did get a few up! You feel good about it.
And you can put one up at work, after all.
The longest part of your trip is waiting for the light to change, traffic getting heavier already even though it’s only two. You make it into work just before it’s time to clock in, cheeks red, booking it through for the time clock.
Unsurprisingly, Miss Kitty is in the back watching television. She glances up once when you enter, and then goes back to it (and her bottle of ‘cola’).
You get out of your outerwear, put your dinner in the fridge, and then go out to relieve the girl at the counter so she can head off. It’s not Sera today, but you’re pretty sure she’s in at Red Jenny in an hour or two. It’s hard to remember.
Settling in to the comfortable, occasionally creepy monotony that is pornography retail, the time starts to speed by. Before you know it Miss Kitty is gone, your feet are pretty tired, and Tor is telling you to go on break.
You’re damn hungry, since chocolates aren’t any substitute for lunch. Settling in, you start eating, turning on your phone.
You don’t have any messages that seem urgent, just a few hellos and random comments. You can return those without thinking about it.
You should probably text Solas and make sure he’s meeting you at work.
He doesn’t give you anything more. You have a sneaking suspicion he’s doing that sort of thing on purpose just to mess with you. What a pain.
About nine thirty you start keeping an eye on the time, trying to get things caught up and ready to leave. You could take a quick break to clean yourself up and fix your makeup, or you could keep pushing to get your work done, so you’re ready to go out the door the instant he gets here.
It won’t take more than a couple minutes to fix yourself up. It’s not like you take smoke breaks, you can take a primp break.
It’s nice to duck into the bathroom, do a bit of a clean-up and application of whatever makeup you smuggled with you today. You fix up your hair, adjust eye makeup, maybe do some bra adjusting (it always needs adjusting, doesn’t it), and then settle yourself.
It’s good. You’re feeling confident.
Ten comes, and you’re nearly almost done, hip against the counter as you wait on Tor to finish counting your drawer.
You told him to leave the front door unlocked, because you were expecting someone. You assume if Solas felt uncomfortable coming in, he’d text you. Then again, you’re starting to think you can’t actually make him uncomfortable.
When he enters, it’s with a curious look on his face, adjusting the sleeves of his coat. Eventually his gaze falls on you, and you tilt your head.
“Just a great deal of pink neon.” He says, returning your smile when you grin, “Good evening.”
“Evening.” You reply, leaning down to grab your bag from the floor, “Just waiting on my drawer.”
“I do not mind waiting.” He says, and then adds musingly, scanning the space, “It is surprisingly…sanitary, compared to others.”
So, you want the tour?
“I believe I could do without.” Solas says wryly, with a small smile that you can’t help but return, “I have a question for you, actually.”
“A question…” You reply, intrigued, “Okay, well, go ahead.”
“Would you prefer something quiet this evening, or somewhere a bit more populated?” He asks, wandering towards the counter.
Your response is interrupted, as Tor wanders out of the back room, waving a hand at you. His attention turns to Solas, curiously.
“This is my…someone I’m meeting.” You assure Tor, heading for the back room, awkwardly leaving the two of them alone, “I’ll be right back! Right…right back!”
Rushing into the back room, you clock out, shucking on your coat and scarf, grabbing your bag and your leftovers from dinner. The box of chocolates is still securely nestled, and you manage to not mess up your hair too much.
When you duck back out again, red-cheeked, Solas is waiting for you by the door. He steps ahead of it and gets it for you, and you both head out under the benevolent gaze of Torpor.
It’s only when the icy air hits your cheeks that you remember he asked you a question.
I’d like to go somewhere quiet tonight.
“In that case, I will let you follow.” Solas says, heading towards his car, “I will text you the address.”
Before you have a chance to protest- or express appreciation, he’s heading into his car without you. You actually find the sentiment pretty nice, when you stop to think about it, he’s making sure you don’t feel trapped.
As you swing into your car, your phone buzzes with a map link from him. The temptation to check where he’s actually leading you is high, but you resist.
He’s gone to all this trouble, why ruin it now?
Instead you settle in, and head out of the parking lot after him.
You head northwards, finding an on ramp, phone chirruping out directions if you lose sight of him. It’s nice to go out on a Friday night. When you pull off again, massive buildings blocking out the sky, you realize that you are, in fact, in the city. Just like he said. The downtown looms nearby, horizon painted by nightlife.
The lights flicker by, gold and blue, slowing as you weave from the main drag into the smaller streets. You’re passing by a fairly urban bit of town, people in dark lines outside of clubs and bars- but you’re moving away from them, not closer.
Finally he seems to have found where he’s after, once you sit through a few eternal stoplights, and you both pull off into a huge, pitch-black parking lot. Odd for here, just far enough away from city life to make you uncomfortable.
You slam your door as you slip out of your car, his and yours the only ones in the lot facing the huge, curved building.
“Are we even supposed to be here?” You call, confused, turning back to watch cars passing by on the wide street just beyond the vast lot.
“Oh, no, certainly not.” He says, sounding as unflustered as ever, “Come, let’s go.”
Okay, let's go.
Intrigued and confused, you cross the massive, empty parking lot with Solas. When you pick up your pace to match his, he extends his arm slightly, and you tuck your hand in, The anchor picks up your pace, matches it to his. It’s nice.
You’re grateful you didn’t wear heels, this is a bit of a trek, but you have no idea what’s awaiting you. You’re silenced by anticipatory confusion, only marginally clarified when you manage to make out the sign above you in the dark.
“Is the the planetarium?” You ask, arm warmed by his as he tucks his hand over your elbow.
“It is.” He replies, pulling you aside from the huge main entrance, “Come,”
Protests die as you’re led across the uneven asphalt towards a side entrance, leaving unlit neon aside. You have a feeling that breaking into the planetarium isn’t something they just let people do. Yet, he has a key, and it opens a back door, into a corridor so stained and marked it could belong to any retail place you’ve dealt with.
Some things are universal.
“What the heck…” You start, and then frown as he gently shushes you, pulling you in past the door that swings heavily shut.
Okay, amazing or no, does he really get to ‘shush’ you?
Well, yes. Let’s shush.
Not just because this is kind of spooky, you clam up, saving the worries and accusations for the moment. The door swings shut heavily, but he keeps his keys out. Not like it’s something you would have noticed before, but he actually has a lot of keys. Not ‘extra set to mom and dad’s house’ amount, but more edging towards the amount that looks like they should be on a big ring hanging from a belt.
One more question for the list, you guess.
Eventually the narrow corridor turns towards what looks like an employee area, doors labeled with things like ‘Storage A’ and ‘Maintenance’, and you feel him relax a little. The area kind of reminds you of an old public school, the same white tile that’s lost its gloss, big dark brown doors with little windows.
“No alarms.” He remarks, and you give him a disbelieving look.
“Were you expecting some?” You ask, trying not to raise your voice.
“No. That was a joke.” He replies, barely hiding a slightly smug smile, “I informed someone that I would be coming by for one last look.”
“One last…” You ask, clinging to the one thing you think he might actually answer, “Is it going away?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” He replies as you head down the hallway, towards another heavy door, “The science center is building a planetarium, and this real estate is simply too expensive to justify an older, more inferior version of it.”
“Well, at least we’re not breaking the law.” You say, feeling a little more comfortable about it.
But couldn’t he have told you that before?
“That could be considered a matter of opinion.” He says, releasing your arm to get the door for you, holding it open.
Does that line work when you get arrested?
You slip through the door, giving him a sidelong look as he catches back up with you again.
“With any luck, we won’t have to find out.” He says, and then admits with a faint chuckle, “Technically I am not supposed to have the key. Some old friends had a habit of making them for various places around town some years ago.”
You let that sink in as you glance around what must be the actual entrance to the planetarium. A bronze replica of what you think is an old Tevinter astrarium sits behind a long half-circle desk strewn with pamphlets and set with computers that look like they were out of date a decade ago.
A huge, faded banner that reads ‘See the Stars’ flutters overhead, in front of huge double doors leading further in. That seems to be where he’s headed, both of your footsteps loud on the old marble floor. Faintly you can hear the sounds of city traffic, light spilling in from the street beyond the darkened parking lot.
“Just for fun?” You ask, and then laugh when he makes a small non-committal noise. “So is this you telling me you could get me in to see the rare books at the downtown library?”
“Hmm.” He muses, making your realize that he actually has to consider it before answering, “I don’t believe so, my apologies.”
“Let me guess, they’ve changed the locks.” You say, and then laugh when he nods, “Were you a bad kid, is this what you’re telling me?”
“I believe that depends on who you ask.” He replies, tipping his head to you as you get the door for him, “Thank you.”
“You keep side-stepping questions like that and you’re going to trip and fall.” You inform him, following after, eyes adjusting to the abrupt darkness. “…Woah.”
The door swings shut behind you, and you’re suddenly blind. Completely, and utterly surrounded by darkness. It’s so disorienting for a second you feel your balance leaving you, until a hand catches your elbow.
“Perhaps it’s you that should be wary of falling.” He replies quietly.
There’s a sudden light in the darkness, leaving you blinking rapidly. Solas releases your arm, adjusts his phone to light the way ahead, and starts down the short aisle towards the middle of the room.
Is it mutually exclusive?
“I suppose not, no. Point well made.” Solas muses, voice echoing as he pulls away from you.
You hasten to catch up before you’re left in pitch black, the light not reaching very far. It’s hard to get the scope of the room you’re in, but it sounds big. Or at least high, unsurprisingly.
“But, on the subject of my avoidance…perhaps I’m simply afraid I’m not very exciting.” He says, still rather thoughtfully.
“Manufactured mystique via evasion?” You ask, and he chuckles, “Not the best plan, Solas.”
“I’ve had worse.” He says with wry humor.
Whatever you might say, you’re distracted into silence as low lights come up around the room, set into the floor. Pale blue, they give just enough light to see by, not enough to blind you. You blink rapidly, trying to adjust, taking a half step back to examine the device in the center of the room.
Small sections of chairs are spread out around the room, all circling the center area of the floor you’re now in. It’s all very three or four decades ago- even the electronics look a bit ancient, but it’s one of those places you can just feel the nostalgia in.
“I am…fairly certain I still know how to work this.” Solas says, and you glance back to where he stands in front of a few consoles at the base of what you realize must be the projector.
“You know how to run this?” You ask, and then laugh faintly at his nod, “So what, instead of getting drunk and stealing cigarettes, you guys…made keys to break into buildings and learn about space?”
“Sobriety was not necessarily a part of it.” He replies distractedly.
And here you’re saying you’re not exciting.
“The past often sounds much more interesting than it was.” Solas replies, but not without a small smile, “In hindsight it often feels more like…”
“A bunch of hangovers strung together?” You ask teasingly, and this time he actually laughs.
“More accurate than you might think.” He says, and then asks absently, “Is it all right with you if we skip the narration? It hasn’t aged well.”
“I’ve had my periods of strung-together hangovers myself, I understand. Both literal and metaphorical.” You say, curiously watching as things start to come online, “And sure, that’s fine. What are we watching? They have all sorts of projections, usually, don’t they?”
“They do, but I would rather just watch the stars, if that is acceptable to you. It seems fitting for a final viewing.” He says.
“Sure.” You agree, and then take a step back to watch.
When the projector comes online after warming up, you take another couple steps back instinctively, until you find a seat. It’s a little hard to stand and stare up, until you plop down in the theater seat you’re starting to feel a bit dizzy.
It spreads out across the domed ceiling, inky darkness and a universe full of stars. Vast, and inspiring a kind of quiet awe, it keeps you silent for a minute as you just sit and take it in. Without any sort of music or narration, you can hear the machinery working, but it’s not terribly noisy, just a quiet hum.
“Another piece of history to be paved over for convenient and overpriced parking.” You barely hear him murmur.
It’s not much, but at least I can remember it with you.
“That means a great deal, actually.” He replies, wandering over to take the seat next to you, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” You say, tugging off your bag so you can unbutton your coat, settling in. It’s hard to take your eyes off the ceiling, “This is actually pretty amazing. It’s not exactly something you get to see in the city, is it?”
“No. For all its myriad beauties, a night sky devoid of light pollution is not something the city provides.” He agrees, and then lapses into silence.
You both do, for a little while, and you have to agree that it’s nice to watch this without the narration. You never quite know what you’re looking at, as it shifts to show you various galaxies, sections of the sky you can’t identify at sight, but there’s something soothing about it.
Nebulae like faint curtains of light with bright stars piercing them interrupt the fields of stars, bringing some color to the blackness overhead. Despite the aged equipment, it’s still perfectly clear.
“Constellations are fascinating.” He says abruptly, but low enough that you’re not startled, “To look at the sky, see the chaos and desperately try to give it order.”
“That’s what people do, isn’t it?” You say, pulling your bag up to your knees, “Make stories, to try and make some sense of the universe.”
“Try.” He says, heavily sardonic, “Being the operative word. A futile endeavor.”
“Hard to stay motivated if you decide everything’s random chance and utter chaos. At least pretending things makes sense gives you motivation.” You say, leaning over to nudge his shoulder, “Don’t go getting all fatalistic on me.”
In an attempt to pick up the mood a little, you dig into your bag and procure the box of chocolates. Thumbing it open, you tuck the lid under the box, and offer it to him, nudging it against his arm. He glances down, surprised.
You sound like you might need a little sweetening up.
“Do I?” Solas asks, selecting one with two fingers and lifting it out of the box to examine it, “Or is it that, like the incessant questioning, feeding people is how you try to charm them?”
“You enjoy it.” You reply confidently, putting the box on the arm between you, and selecting one for yourself, “Wouldn’t you rather it be one last good memory, rather than a bitter one?”
He’s silent for long enough that you glance aside, already biting into the chocolate. His eyes are fixed on the ceiling, but at least his expression is more relaxed now. When he glances down, meeting your eyes, you tilt your head questioningly.
“You are correct.” He says, and then glances down at the bitten chocolate in his fingers, “Is that…pepper?”
“Yep. I told her to give me the weird ones.” You say contentedly, popping what turns out to be a lavender caramel into your mouth.
Apparently he doesn’t mind it, because he just gives a faint ‘hmm’ and eats the rest of the chocolate. You have a feeling he’s getting lost in his own head, because he keeps going silent. It’s okay, though, it’s not uncomfortable, and you have the feeling there’s a lot of memories here for him.
It’s actually pretty cool that he brought you, considering how important the planetarium is to him.
You watch the stars together for a while in silence again, with the quiet hum of the projector. You’re not sure how long it’s been, in the dark closed off from the rest of the world, but you’re in no hurry to check your phone.
Eventually, though, the show ends, giving one last view of the vast star-strewn darkness above. You hear him sigh, heavily, and then he rises from his seat with a jarringly noisy creak of the ancient upholstery.
Thank you for bringing me here.
“Thank you for joining me.” He says, voice oddly distant.
You occupy yourself putting away the rest of the chocolates for a second, tucking them back into your bag and pulling it on. He’s still silent, standing with his back to you at the control consoles, and you’re starting to feel just a little bit intrusive.
Maybe you should give him a minute alone?
You start rising to your feet, when abruptly everything goes black. Pitch black, without even the floor lights, like it was when you first walked in. Your eyes are more used to low light right now, but there’s nothing.
Disorienting, complete nothingness.
“Solas!” You protest, hands reaching out blindly.
Infuriatingly, you hear him laughing. After a few seconds, one of your swinging hands finds his arm, and you latch on, torn between annoyance and gratitude. You stumble as you pull yourself steady with his arm, bumping into his side as he momentarily supports your weight.
“You did that on purpose.” You accuse, feeling his chest shudder against your upper arm as he chuckles.
“I believe I warned you earlier about falling.” He says, voice warm and close in the darkness.
And I warned your right back, didn’t I? Kiss him.
Blindly, you reach a hand out and find the edge of his jaw, turning him towards you as you lean in. You don’t give yourself a chance to second guess, or worry that you’re not going to find his mouth in the dark.
You do.
Lips meet, brief and warm and…maybe with just a tiny hint of playful tongue. He returns it, but you can feel the instant it sinks in, and his mouth goes still against yours. You instantly break the kiss, dropping your hand regretfully and starting to pull back.
“I’m not goi…”
It’s all you manage to get out, because his fingers tighten against your arm and literally drag you back in. If you were worried he wasn’t into it, well…you’re not worried any more. Though, maybe you should be.
He kisses you like a drowning man coming up for air.
Fierce and desperate, a hand pressing in against your lower back as he pulls you in close. The hand on your arm lifts up to your cheek, but for some reason that seems to pull him out of it. The kiss breaks, leaving you lightheaded as you breathe in sharply, his fingers still gentle on your cheek.
You feel the slight drag of his thumb down your skin, breathing out heavily against his lips.
“I…” You feel him murmur.
“Don’t you dare apologize.” You interrupt.
He’s right there, and you barely have to lean in to kiss him again- but he’s withdrawing, you can feel it. So, you keep it friendly and soft, and let him disentangle himself and pull himself away.
Not just physically, either.
“I would appreciate it if we could…not talk about that right now.” He says at last, faintly apologetic, “I need some time to think with a clearer head.”
Absolutely, take all the time you need.
“Thank you.” Solas says with quiet sincerity.
He doesn’t take your arm again, but that might just be out of politeness to you. He did just…sort of reject you. Sort of.
Even understanding that maybe this was all just a bit much for him, it stings a little. What if he thinks it was a mistake? What if it was all the memories, and not actually…you?
Now’s probably not the time to pester him about it.
You said you’d give him space, you have to actually try and mean it. Overthinking it is probably a mistake, though. Take him at face value, you have no reason to think otherwise. Right?
You realize, after a couple seconds, he’s just called your name.
Blinking, you glance up and realize he’s turned on his phone again, and is halfway up the aisle. Grabbing at the strap of your bag, you hasten to follow. Easier to keep your hands to yourself when they’re occupied.
You head out of the planetarium, without a backwards glance. There’s nothing there but darkness.
Returning to the lobby is like returning to reality, the quiet drone of traffic outside, lights shining in through the front doors. You keep pace with each other, but walk apart this time, though he does get the side door for you again. The long hallway to the back door is a silent walk, but the awkwardness is fading away.
“May I walk you to your car?” He asks, quietly polite.
“Sure, thank you. Are you not leaving?” You say, cheeks abruptly flushing as he opens the heavy back door, the cold from outside sudden and piercing.
“Not quite yet,” he says, following you out into the parking lot, “but soon enough.”
You walk across the large, empty lot towards your car, the noise of traffic growing louder. It’s Friday night, so even at midnight the roads are busy.
“Drive carefully.” He says, as you both come to a stop next to your car.
I will. Good night.
“Good night.” He replies with a small nod of his head, stepping back and catching your car door for you as you pull it open.
Since you are being terribly mature and understanding, you don’t yank it out of his grip, but you let him close your door for you. Fishing out your keys, you turn on your car, pulling out your phone as you wait for it to warm up.
It’s cold. Snow cold, where you can smell it in the air.
After you check your messages, you set your phone aside and reach for the steering wheel. A glance in your rearview mirror just shows the building, at first, until you adjust it and realize Solas is still outside.
You can see him, faintly in your tail lights and the light from the road, standing around the side of the building near the back door. He has his hands in his pockets, and he’s just staring at the wall.
In his own head again, probably.
After a couple seconds, you fix your mirror again, back out of the parking lot, and move to join the late night traffic.
Turning the radio on helps drown out your head a little. Weird that things went from ridiculously romantic to strange and distantly sad all of a sudden, but it wasn’t actually a bad date. If you ignore the last part. He’ll come around. Or won’t.
Not really anything you can do about it, right?
When you get home, you send him a text to let him know you got home safely, and to thank him. It doesn’t get a response, at least not tonight.
It’s about twelve thirty in the morning, you work from noon to eight tomorrow.
You have kittens, half a box of chocolates, and some booze Hawke and Co. left in your fridge. What do you think?
Would it be weird if we write for an hour or two?
Feeling suitably inspired by the evening, you settle in to do some writing after a quick shower. The further you get from that awkwardness after the kiss, the more pleasant the whole evening becomes. Actually, now that you think of it, it’s probably one of those times that you’re going to remember for the rest of your life.
How often do you get to sneak into a planetarium in the middle of the night?
Even if this ends up being the end of things, at least you’ll have the memory of the stars.
Atisha claims your lap, of course she does, after another pathetic crying fit because she can’t jump up into it. Fen just gets a case of the crazies and runs around the apartment until he passes out under your desk. You write for a couple hours, until you glance up and realize you’ve lost track of time completely.
It’s three in the morning.
Gathering up the cats, you head to bed, set your alarm, and then promptly pass out.