Saturday, 3rd of Umbralis
Bright and early, you’re woken up because the cats are starving to death and have never before eaten in their life. You get up, feed them, and then stumble back into bed and face-plant.
You manage to doze for another hour or two.
Still, you’re up before your alarm. Atisha is nice enough to come to bed and just fall asleep behind your head, but Fen disapproves of the fact that you’re not petting him. You scratch him behind the ears until he stops complaining and biting you, but it’s too late.
You’re awake. When you get your hand free to check your phone, it turns out to be about nine thirty.
Well, you’ve slept less before.
You have a couple messages, nothing too exciting. Cole sent you more pictures of Penelope the Iguana, so you take a couple of Fen eating your hair to send back. Solas messaged you back as well, at about four thirty in the morning, just a polite nothing letting you know he got your message and thanking you for coming out.
It’s bland enough that you realize he probably wasn’t trying to start a conversation.
You’re going to need caffeine. A lot of caffeine. Who knows how late you’re gonna be up tonight. You also need to figure out if you’re going to give into temptation and do the dressing up you didn’t do last night.
But first?
First you need to get your ass out of bed.
Coffee. Just…coffee. The trudge to the shop will help, too.
You bundle up and pack your laptop, more out of habit than any particular writerly urges. You never know, once you manage to get functional, you might feel up to it. Things like dressing up and making lunch can wait until after coffee time.
You’re feeling pretty good about the contents of your fridge and freezer, so far your budgeting and meal planning is working pretty well. You haven’t been eating out or wasting money, and haven’t been tempted to go load up on junk food.
Tonight is bring your own drinks, you remember. If you wanted to save even more money, you could just bring that bottle of wine they left in your fridge, but you can certainly afford to splurge just a little.
There’s a corner shop just a block down, in the opposite direction of the coffee shop. Not very big, but they probably have drinks. Either that or you can go to the liquor store near work later. Or, you can be a good girl, drive tonight, and keep sober. Never know, someone might need a designated driver.
Pondering it over sleepily, you head downstairs after saying goodbye to the cats, who are celebrating their successfully waking you up by…sleeping.
Little jerks.
You head outside into the gray and ice, burrowing your nose into your scarf to try and keep it warm. Picking up the pace helps, and the chill is actually pretty good for clearing your head. By the time you make it to the shop, you’re feeling about fifty percent alive.
The smell of coffee in the air when you push into the shop helps a little, too.
The line is shorter than it was last time you were here, and there’s less people working at the tables. In no time at all, you’re to the head of the line. They do have some pastries and bagels, on top of the drinks.
A coffee and something to eat. We’ve earned it, and it’ll save time.
With coffee and breakfast in hand, you find a corner away from the cold to enjoy both. It’s a good vantage for watching people coming and going, as you slowly work on waking yourself up. Eventually, though, you fish out your phone, checking your messages again.
Like eight from Sera. You open them up, and realize it’s a bunch of pictures. Fen’harel pictures, it looks like. The…old ones, not the gallery ones. Some of the photos look like copies, faded ones.
Well, okay, she now wants to know why. Not surprisingly.
Just tell her why you don’t feel comfortable asking him. She is your friend.
You’re really hoping honesty is the best policy right now, because you feel like spilling it. Maybe you just need to tell someone? Your story gets silence, at least for a couple minutes, while you work on your breakfast and try to force yourself to wake up.
You really hope that’s a joke. Normally you would assume no, but this is Sera. She might actually do it. With things a bit less…tense, you check if she needs a ride. She says she’s taking the bus, and you can go with her if you want.
She recommends not driving, apparently it’s a bad part of town for finding parking. Good to know.
While you’re sending her one last message, the chair across from you scoots out noisily, and someone sprawls into it.
“Enjoying the weather?” A semi-familiar voice asks you.
You glance up, meeting Dorian’s eyes as he drops his cup down, and reaches up to loosen his scarf.
Could be worse, I guess. How are the ice blocks coming?
“Well enough, I suppose. Dagna’s industry matches her enthusiasm, at least.” Dorian says, drumming fingers on top of his cup, “I do much better with management than manual labor.”
“Especially in this cold.” You agree, and he gives a ‘hmm’ of agreement. “Just grabbing a morning cup?”
“Unfortunately. Not looking forward to a day of holiday shoppers.” Dorian says exasperatedly.
“I’ll drink to that.” You say, lifting your cup and taking a sip of your coffee.
He follows suit, saluting you in return.
The two of you chat for a bit, and it’s surprisingly comfortable. He’s easy to talk to, and his dry sense of humor is enjoyable. You don’t really talk about anything in particular, just the school and a little bit of retail work mockery. Despite having only met once before, you get along fine.
Eventually he leaves, having to work earlier than you, and you’re left feeling more cheered than you were before. And more alert.
You might be ready to face the day now.
Let’s head up to the corner store. Grab something for the party tonight.
Caffeinated, and with some breakfast to keep you going, you bundle up again and head back the way you came. It’s just a block or so past your building before the corner store, which isn’t much bigger than most grocery convenience stores. It’s clean, though, and the guy behind the counter greets you pleasantly enough before going back to watching the weather channel on a small portable television.
Still, it looks like they have some basic produce along with the snack cakes, candy bars, and condoms, so that’s more than most.
There’s a couple coolers of alcohol, and you wander back to browse. Nothing exciting. Cheap champagne, some wine, basic beers, wine coolers, novelty malt liquor.
You could also just go for some fancy glass-bottle soda, if you don’t want to drink tonight.
Sober and responsible, that’s us. Let’s grab some soda. It’ll help keep us awake, too.
Utterly torn between getting beer for the party, and staying on the straight and narrow, you finally grab some fancy soda. You’re just starting to get to know people, getting drunk and crazy at a party might end up badly.
You do some more browsing, just to see what’s here. They have a decent selection of ice cream, both novelty and non, and microwaveable faux food. In the dry goods there’s some mixes, more instant dinner type things, some canned goods.
Heading towards the counter, you take one last mental perusal of your home inventory, deciding if there’s anything you want to grab.
Let’s get some brownie mix. We have just enough time to make some before work. BYOB…bring your own brownies, right? And some condoms. Just…to have around, you know.
Once again, you engage in some sensible splurging- the most you’ve really spent so far has been on the cats, actually. But you grab a couple boxes of brownie mix, some tortilla chips and salsa, and a box of condoms on your way to the counter. You never know, right?
One of those things you don’t want to get stuck without- even if it’s someone else that needs them, and not you.
You get rung out quickly, a painless transaction, and the guy behind the counter goes back to his television.
Grabbing your bags, you head back out into the cold. If you want to make lunch and brownies before you go, it’s probably time to get a wiggle on. They can cool while you’re at work, so all you really need to do is bake them.
When you head in through the front door, it looks like the mail has come. There’s a couple letters for you, junk mail, bank statement, credit card offer, and some larger envelope without a return address. You examine it briefly, notice someone wrote ‘do not bend’ on the back, and it’s been bent at least once. Whoever it is wrote your address by hand, in a blocky, clear hand.
Weird.
You get upstairs, toss the mail down on your coffee table, and head for the kitchen. The brownie mix is easy, eggs and water and oil, all things you have from your ‘staples’ run to the store. You do both boxes at once, reasoning that drunk people like to eat.
It’s not hard to make brownies from a box, and you’re a decent cook, so in about fifteen minutes, tops, they’re in the oven. It’s almost eleven, and you need to be out the door by twenty to twelve, at the latest.
Let’s open the mail.
Giving in to temptation, you open your bank stat…just kidding.
The large envelope without the return address is a plain manilla with its flap firmly glued down. It’s thick enough to make you think there’s something more than just a letter in there. You thumb it open, ripping it along the crease, and then pop it open, peering inside.
There is a letter, so you grab it first, unfolding it curiously.
Dearest wifey,
I know I should have left this at your work, but that’s a lot less funny. Don’t worry. I just used the internet. You can find anything these days. Almost anything.
Here you go, more fuel for the fire. This is fun to watch, how long can you keep it going before people stop caring?
Don’t tell the old man, and trust me- don’t out yourself as the source of these.
Anonymity is a gift, hang onto it.
P.S. Pretend for a second I’m not a nice guy. Read the last two sentences again.
You’re not sure if you’re weirded out, scared, a little violated, or angry at Sera for getting you dragged into this. You settle for the first one right away, hand dipping into the envelope. The material you touch is slippery under your fingertips, and you know instinctively what it is.
You pull a pile of photographs out of the envelope.
It’s not hard to know what it’s going to be, but you still end up having to stagger over and plop down on the couch. They look like recent copies, but old photographs, if that makes any sense at all. New copies made from old negatives.
Because these are at least fifteen years old.
You know that, because you’ve been studying up on Fen’harel.
Felassan likes art, Solas said. Could he have been a fan? Someone who used to go around taking pictures of the work? You recognize a couple pieces, the famous ones people still have photographs of. These aren’t those photos, though, these are ones taken by some sort of small personal camera, not professional.
There’s at least a half dozen pieces you’ve never seen before, including the one that he’d called a copy. And he was right, it’s exactly the same as that painting in the gallery.
You flip through them for a minute, but it’s nothing more than painted walls, some photos better than others, all of them taken at night. Granted, this is probably going to be a huge deal for a small group of people, but you’re still not sure of the significance.
Or what the hell you should do with them.
Don’t freak out. Get ready for work, text her to meet you at work. Show her in person.
Yeah. Freak out later, that sounds good.
You put everything back in the envelope, put it away in your purse, and go to make yourself lunch slash dinner. While it cooks, you spend some time with the cats, fix your hair and do some basic makeup, pull the brownies out of the oven.
But no freaking out, nope. Not thinking about how the photographs actually might prove Sera completely wrong- because if that photo has been hiding somewhere for fifteen years, how would a fake artist know that piece to copy it?
Not thinking about how easy it apparently is to find your address, nope.
And certainly not thinking about if he was actually threatening you or not. You can only assume the ‘old man’ (mean, by the way) is Solas, considering you asked him to talk to Felassan for you. Was he warning you not to tell Solas because he’d get mad at Felassan?
They’re just photographs.
Hey, remember when you were like ‘sneaking into a gallery to take pictures, no big deal!’?
Yeah. Just photographs.
The brownies you leave on the stove to cool while you’re at work, throwing some tinfoil over them in case of cats. You dish up your food for work, sealing it up after taking a few bites.
All the while, not doing any freaking out at all.
On your way out, you text Sera. She says she’ll meet you there when she can.
You get in to work, settle in, and then uncertainty comes creeping back.
You should probably take pictures of everything, just in case. Especially that letter.
Between customers, you take the best pictures you can of the photos and letter with your phone. Glossy photos aren’t the best for taking pictures of, but you take a good few of each of them, just to make sure they’re recognizable.
By the time Sera gets there, you’ve managed to get all of them, and you’re feeling a bit more calm and in control. Doing something, even if it was pointless, helps a little.
When she pushes her way into the store, slurping away at a straw, you’re flattening some boxes for Tor to drag out.
“So what’s th’big deal that you gotta drag me here on my day off?” She asks, and you’re relieved to see that she’s smiling.
The conversation this morning did make you worry, a little.
“I got some weird mail today.” You explain, and her smile starts fading, turning puzzled, “I guess asking Solas worked.”
“Wait a friggin’…mail, like…at your house, mail?” Sera asks, only looking all the more worried when you nod, “Give it here, you all right, right?”
“Sort of?” You reply, passing her the letter first, “I mean, I’m not crazy that it’s kind of…”
You fall silent as Sera reads, soda in one hand, her blank expression gradually turning into a scowl.
“You all right?” She immediately asks, repeating, glancing up into your face searchingly, “Like, actually all right?”
I’m not really sure. I don’t even know what’s going on.
“Sorry.” Sera apologizes, setting her cup down, “I guess people could sort of say this is my fault, couldn’t they?”
“I made the choices myself, Sera.” You remind her, “I’m a big girl, okay?”
“Right.” She mutters, not looking that sure.
Well, at least you know how to perk her up. Having gotten the weird, creepy part out of the way, you reach under the counter for the stack of photos. When you hold them out to her, she gives you a questioning look, but automatically takes them.
And then she realizes what they are.
Torn between freaking out, poring over them, and telling you how ‘brilliant’ you are, she starts going a mile a minute. You have to pull yourself away for a minute to take care of a customer, and the whole while she’s looking through the photos. Apparently people are going to ‘lose it’. That’s nice to hear.
Her enthusiasm makes you feel a bit better.
At least, until she gives a loud, sudden curse, slapping the stack down on the counter.
“What? What?” You ask, tearing your attention away from the receipt you’re handing across the counter.
“He’s Fen’harel.” Sera tells you, jabbing a finger in your direction, “That’s it, innit? Got to be. He’s Fen-friggin’-harel!”
“No way, Sera.” You deny instantly, and then frown, “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Course it does!” She counters, scowling for just a second, “It’s got to, doesn’t it? Only thing that makes sense, how else he got these?”
“He’s probably just a fan from back in the day. He…I don’t know, used to go take pictures whenever he made a new piece.” You say, dubiously.
“Th’ paint is still there! On th’ground! An’ stencils an’ shit.” Sera informs you a bit too loudly, picking up one of the photos and thrusting it at your face. “Right friggin’ there, He just finished it!”
Huh. I thought he’d be bigger.
Sera cackles at your words, reaching over to shove your shoulder. She doesn’t seem to want to let go of the photos for long, though, quickly she scoops them back up again, sorting through them.
She quiets for a couple minutes, and you go back to your boxes, trying to avoid cardboard cuts.
“You think that’s why he said not t’tell Solas?” Sera asks, drawing your attention back again, “Because he don’t want to get outed?”
“I guess if it’s true, maybe?” You reply, for a second considering telling her about Solas and his ‘bad kid’ days.
But then again, that’s not your story to tell. Still, it makes you wonder, as your brain fidgets the pieces around trying to find where they fit…
Did Solas know?
“Nice to think it is, but there’s no way to tell, is there?” Sera says, surprising you a little. She seems to notice that you are, because her voice gets wry, “I get excited, but that don’t mean I’m stupid.”
“It could be.” You reply, lifting your shoulders, “He could be Fen’harel.”
“Yeah, but then why the games?” She asks, actually sounding a little plaintive, “We were right there, why fuck about and all that? Why not tell us what th’fuck’s goin’ on straight out?”
It could be more complicated than we realize?
“Sera…Sera, can we please…is there a way to make sure no one can trace them to us?” You ask hopefully, “I know you probably want to make a big deal out of this, but, please.”
“What, just post them anonymous on the internet, then pretend to be surprised with everyone else?” She replies, almost jokingly, and then grins at you, “Does that mean I get a code name too?”
“Of course you do, that’s the best part.” You say, managing a smile, “As long as nobody knows it’s us, that’s really all that matters.”
“You’re really takin’ this that serious, huh?” She asks you, head tilting.
“It showed up at my house.” You say pointedly, and then sigh, “Please, Sera.”
“Sure, why not.” She says, tucking the photos carefully into her coat, “You keep that letter. Never know.”
“And when you’re done with the photos…”
“I’ll tuck ‘em away somewhere safe.” She promises you. “Relax.”
“You want a ride tonight?” You offer, as she straightens up and grabs her soda again.
“Takin’ the bus. Are you really driving? What about getting drunk?”
“I bought soda.” You tell her, and then grin when she sighs, loudly, “And…I made brownies.”
Sera slaps her forehead dramatically.
Drunk people are way more fun when you’re sober. Besides, someone might need a ride.
“Whatever you say.” Sera replies, dubiously, and then grins at you, voice teasing, “Frigging boring, that’s what you are.”
“Hey! I think we’ve got plenty of evidence to the contrary here!” You protest, pointing at the pictures she’s carrying, “Don’t pick on me!”
“All right, all right.” Sera says, and then shakes her head, “Gonna go get these up, yeah? I’ll text you about the party. Eight, right?”
“Yep, and then I have to stop at home. Not too far, is it?”
“Nah, just don’t be forever. You get there too late, you’ll miss all the fun!” Sera tells you, lifting a hand and turning for the door. “If you even know how t’have fun!”
“I resent that!” You call back at her.
She just cackles at you, pushing out into the parking lot, already looking at the pictures again. That leaves you with the letter. After a brief contemplation, you finally fold it up and put it away in the envelope.
You never know.
Work goes by busily, things picking up around six. It’s not the easiest night, actually there’s some creeps, but Tor’s around, and he’s enough of a deterrent when you let him know what’s going on. You can’t imagine what it would be like working at one of these shops if your boss didn’t care about keeping people from being harassed.
By the time eight rolls around, you’re very ready to get out of there.
You say your goodbyes, grab your things, and forge on out into the cold again. You’re so focused on getting into your car, you don’t notice the weather has changed until a snowflake abruptly lands on your nose.
Lifting a hand to wipe it away, you glance skyward.
It’s snowing.
Dress up, get your things, take the car
Once you’ve done your duty to the kitties- which involves snuggling, being bitten, and feeding them, you spend some time on yourself. This time, damn it, you’re going with a skirt, leggings under them, a cute top, even a little jewelry. Maybe you’ll be a little cold, but it’ll be worth it to feel nice.
You fix up your face to match the dressier ensemble, And do your hair. No hat tonight, your ears will have to deal with it. In deference to the snow, and since you’re taking your car, you do grab a change of shoes just in case. Better safe than sorry.
Actually, on second thought, you grab a bag and toss a change of clothes in there, a blanket, and a filled water bottle. Good to have in your car anyway, especially in the winter. Topping that off with your soda, chips and salsa, and the brownies that you’ve cut up, you are ready to party.
In a sensible and adult fashion.
You animal you.
The drive isn’t too long, once you get the address from your messages and punch it in. Maybe fifteen minutes, to a slightly nicer neighborhood than yours. Driving in the snow is pretty, and it’s still too soon for it to be dangerous or slippery. Still, you take it slow.
When you arrive at the house, which is a lot bigger than you were expecting, the driveway is full. You have to park maybe three blocks down, which still isn’t bad in the city, but it leaves you with a little bit of a trek and some bags, and a pair of heels. You get out, unload the back, and then close the door with your butt before locking up.
There.
Better hurry, though, because it’s cold as shit.
The sidewalk is a bit on the precarious side, but you’re doing fine until abruptly someone tumbles out of a nearby hedge with a crash. You jump about a half foot with a yelp, and so do they, scrambling back to their feet and rushing at you.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Merrill apologizes, darting to your side and grabbing your elbow before you can topple. “I didn’t mean to frighten you!”
She has pine needles in her hair.
Um…why were you in a bush?
“Oh. Well. That’s a good question, actually.” Merrill says, following along beside you as you hurry up the sidewalk, “Well, someone accidentally knocked something off of the back deck, and I was looking for it.”
“Did you find it?” You ask, glancing over at her, “Was it important?”
“Oh. No. It was a plastic cup.” Merrill replied, lifting a hand to show you a crumpled red cup, “I just didn’t want it to get forgotten. Hawke promised Leandra there wouldn’t be a mess when she gets home, so…”
“So you went hunting in the dark for a cup.” You reply, and then grin at her when she laughs, “Maybe next time in the morning might be better?”
“Well, yes, probably.” Merrill allows, and then gives a sigh, glancing skyward, “Also I wanted to watch the snow. It’s pretty, isn’t it?”
“Mhmm.” You agree, nodding gratefully when she moves to get the gate for you, both of you turning up the walk to the house, “Thanks.”
“Not a problem! Can you settle yourself?” Merrill asks.
Just point me to the kitchen!
“It’s right through your left. Just go down the hall a ways, past the dining room, and it’s the one with the swinging door!” Merrill instructs cheerfully, smiling all the deeper when you get the door for her, “Thank you, you’re so nice!”
“Not a problem.” You say, following her in.
The house was big from the outside, so you’re not sure what you were expecting, but it’s, well…big on the inside, too. It looks like normal people living in a fancy person’s house, as weird as that sounds. There’s various family pictures on the walls, and a walk in closet that it looks like no one uses. Shoes are piled haphazardly on a pretty expensive rug, directly in front of a shoe rack someone seems to have put out in a last ditch effort to contain them.
You put your shoes on the shoe rack, because you’re a guest, but barely anyone bothered. You see Sera’s in the tangle. She’s already here, that’s good.
Before you go hunting anyone down, though, you’ve got stuff to deliver. Heading left, listening to the noise and music, you follow the sounds of chatter down a wide hallway.
With more family pictures. Someone sure likes their family pictures, though for some reason in half of them, Hawke or Carver (or both) are making horrible faces, and Bethany is laughing. You see what must be their mom and dad, a handsome older man and a woman who generally looks exasperated in any picture where no one’s behaving.
Nice family.
The kitchen isn’t quiet, when you finally find the door and push through it, after passing by a dining room it looks like no one uses, there’s a group of people standing around an island counter. Arguing. Or at least, talking pretty angrily.
You recognize all of them, actually, even if you’ve never met. Josephine, Leliana, Zevran, and the woman you think is from the cafe at Valmont. The one that was talking to…Felassan. That’s right! Weird.
Eyes turn towards you, and you hopefully lift your things as a shield.
“I made brownies?” You say with a smile.
“Those belong here!” Leliana demands, pointing at the counter in front of herself with her glass of wine.
She looks like she’s been crying. That’s worrying, but when you glance at Zevran, he gives you a reassuring smile.
Yes ma’am!
Obediently, you head over and plop down the container of brownies. Rather than linger and be rudely invasive, you then step around the island for the counter, dumping off your bag of chips and the salsa. Not that there’s any shortage of either.
Oh well, it’s the thought that counts, right? And you did bring brownies.
“Thank you.” Leliana calls to you, though she doesn’t sound any more cheerful, “I just do not understand why she would do this. After everything we have been through!”
“You are being too emotional. You know exactly why she did it.” The woman you don’t know says, with a heavy Orlesian accent. She doesn’t sound unsympathetic. “She has everything she wanted. The money, and someone to take the fall for it. It worked out perfectly for her.”
“There is nothing wrong with being emotional.” Josephine says calmly, but with a hint of worry.
“No, Briala is right.” Leliana says, giving a small sniff and then sighing, “Marjolaine has spared no feelings for me, why should I bother with any for her?”
“Just be grateful you have not been prosecuted, merely fired.” Briala says, voice a touch sarcastic, “If she was capable of framing you for her theft to this extent, she could have gone a step further. That is what you get for being clever enough to see through her. They do hate that.”
“Speaking from experience, no?” Zevran asks archly, and then laughs.
You glance over, and catch Briala giving him a nasty look. He just grins at her.
“The rights of the worker mean little to most in management, and even less to those beyond them.” She finally says, contemptuously, “You could try to argue that you are innocent and she is not, but that could only make things worse for you. They are comfortable, and so they do not care. Be grateful they did not choose to make an example of you.”
“Life is not fair.” Leliana finally says, voice heavily resigned, but with slightly better humor.
You realize you’ve been kind of inadvertently eavesdropping. They are in a public space, though.
Might as well own up to it and try to be sympathetic, everyone knows you heard.
“Hard not to hear.” You apologize to Leliana, glancing over your shoulder and offering her a sympathetic smile, “That’s really horrible. I’m sorry.”
“I will be all right.” Leliana says, giving a faint sniffle, selecting a brownie from the now-open container. “It is just very difficult when people turn out to not be who you thought they were.”
“It is more common than you might think.” Briala declares moodily, staring at her glass, “Especially when there is something they can gain from the deception.”
“You are being exceptionally Orlesian tonight.” Zevran interrupts, unphased when Briala glares at him again, “Were you planning to start a revolution?”
“Perhaps I will. Would you like to join me?” She asks darkly, pushing away from the counter and heading for the door.
“I am a bit too mercenary for causes, but thank you for thinking of me!” Zevran replies, voice lifting as Briala heads out into the hall, “I think she is in need of a stronger drink.” He adds, voice dropping.
“But she is right. There is nothing i can do.” Leliana sighs, and then gives Josephine a smile at the pat on her shoulder, “Really, Josie, I will be fine.”
“You appear to be lacking a drink. May I assist you?” Zevran asks you, stepping back and gesturing to the random bottles tucked onto a corner of the counter, “I have no idea what is in half of these, but that is the fun of it, yes?”
Nope, but we should mix some weird shots for people. It’ll be fun.
“Now that sounds like an excellent plan.” Zevran decides, grabbing a stack of plastic shot glasses.
He doesn’t bug you about not wanting to drink, and as you both start sorting through the bottles and mixing things, he doesn’t even ask if you want to try any of them. That’s nice and thoughtful of him, more than you’d expect.
You open one of your sodas for yourself, and then set to work. Eventually Josephine and Leliana come over to help, and the mood in the kitchen lifts a little bit. Zevran seems insistent on making the weirdest combinations ever, but Josephine’s a lot more careful. You’d probably trust her taste before Zevran’s, really. Leliana seems to be picking her liquors by color, carefully layering them.
Now that’s a talent! It makes the shots look really pretty. You’re trying to remember what flavors go together, but some of the bottles have such weird names you’re not sure what they’re supposed to be.
You give it your best shot. (ha ha, get it?)
In the end you’ve got about a dozen and no idea what they are, but hey, that’s part of the fun. Loading them up on a plastic plate, you decide where to go. Josephine and Leliana seem to be putting theirs on the same plate.
There’s some people out on the deck, remember? They’re probably cold, the shots will likely be welcome.
You decide to do some exploring.
The house is big, but luckily, it’s not that confusing. You peek into a couple rooms that look unoccupied before you find a large living room full of people. The door to the deck is on the left side, and it looks like there’s a couple people outside. Everyone in here seems to be watching a movie and discussing it at full volume. You glance around, but only see a couple faces you recognize, and none that you know that well.
Nobody bothers you as you pass through, shouldering open the door to the deck and duck out before you let in too much cold air. Brr! It’s freezing out here. You’re glad you haven’t taken off your jacket.
Unsurprisingly, it looks like you’ve stumbled into the den of smokers. It’s cold and crisp out, so the air is fresh enough, but there’s a couple people with cigarettes out here.
Also, Sera! She’s standing next to Anders, of all people, talking in a low tone of voice. When you approach, she notices you, but shushes you noisily.
“About friggin’ time you got here.” She hisses at you, scooping up two big handfuls of snow and packing them together. “C’mere, shut up. What you got?”
“We were making random shots.” You say, ignoring the ‘shut up’ part, but keeping your voice down. And then, because Anders is staring at you, and you’re polite, you greet him, “Hi.”
“Hello…” He replies, a little bit confused, “You’re Sera’s friend?”
“That would be me!” You agree, and then startle as Sera abruptly flings her snowball straight down, over the railing.
Below in the darkness, there’s a very loud curse.
Sera and Anders both duck down, leaving you blinking and staring out into the yard. A figure yanking snow out of the back of his coat stomps into the lights spilling over the side of the deck, and he glares up at you, eyes narrowed.
Uh oh.
You think you recognize him. It’s that security guard Solas was talking to once. Cullen?
Ice to meet you!
You are hilarious. You feel hilarious, as Sera snorts behind her hand, and you don’t let Anders’ quiet ‘sweet Andraste’ kill your thunder. No, this is your moment, and that is an awesome pun.
Cullen’s glare turns slightly bewildered, and then turns to utter exasperation as Sera and Anders pop up, both laughing at him. And at you, obviously.
Because you are funny as shit.
“I don’t know what was worse, the melting snow down my jacket, or that joke.” Cullen complains, tromping towards the stairs, reaching up a hand to rub at the back of his neck, “Very funny, Sera.”
“How you know it was me?” Sera asks belligerently, grabbing one of the shots off of your plate and examining it critically, “Could have been anybody. Could have run inside.”
“Don’t listen to him, I thought it was quite clever.” Anders says, and then amends when you give him a look of disbelief, “All right, you caught me, it was terrible. Charmingly terrible.”
“That’s the point.” You tell him, and then look over as Sera starts choking, “Oh come on, it can’t be that bad.”
“What the frig did you put in that?” She accuses in a croak, staring at the shot glass in her hand.
Blue. Obviously. It’s blue flavored. This one is purple!
“All right.” Sera sighs exasperatedly, shaking her head at you and reaching for another shot, “Land one joke an’ think you’re a friggin’ comedian.”
“I’m funny. I’m a very funny person.” You protest, glancing over as Anders reaches for one of the shots. “Honestly, though, I have no idea what’s in them. At least I didn’t try to kill people with mine, unlike Zevran.”
“Well…” Anders starts, only to be interrupted by Sera.
“Y’know Zev?” She asks, peering at you.
“Yes…” You say, and then add, pointing at Anders, “And that’s Anders…and that’s Cullen.”
Cullen peers at your extended finger, glancing over at Sera as she gets a bit in your face. She looks mad, but by now you can mostly tell the difference. She isn’t really upset. Tipsy though, maybe.
“Thought you didn’t know anybody.” She accuses, lifting her shot and gesturing at you.
“I don’t know her.” Cullen supplies, lifting a hand to fix his hair.
“He doesn’t know me.” You tell Sera, grinning at her slight glare, “Would it make you feel better if I pretend I don’t know people so you can introduce me to them?”
“Shut up.” She says, and then takes the shot.
“Do I know you?” Cullen asks, looking more confused by the second.
No, but you know Solas. I was just kind of standing there when you talked to him once.
Sera makes a rude noise, but you ignore it. She’s just trying to get a rise out of you, you’ve figured that one out by now. When you nudge her carefully with your elbow, she laughs.
“Oh! I apologize that I don’t recognize you.” Cullen says, somewhat awkwardly.
“Oh, no. It was literally while you were running by his store.” You assure him, before he can get any more embarrassed. “You were chasing after two people yelling at each other.”
“Ah.” Cullen says, as if that explains everything, “I do happen to do that quite often. Meredith yelling at someone, I presume.”
“Yeah, that was it.” You say, giving a small nod of your head, “I…”
“It’s a miracle she hasn’t been fired. Why is that, I wonder?” Anders interrupts you, and you realize he’s giving Cullen a pretty nasty look. “Her continued campaign of harassment must have some official sanction.”
“I believe that’s my cue to step inside.” Cullen declares, rather than answering Anders, gesturing to the door and stepping back, “A pleasure to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you…” You start, as he makes his rapid retreat, finishing when the door closes, “Too. I have a feeling I missed something.”
“Y’don’t want t’know. Trust me.” Sera tells you so seriously that you glance at her in surprise.
“What she means is she doesn’t want to listen to me ramble.” Anders says self-deprecatingly, and then asks you, “Did you have a good time yesterday?”
Ah. That’s right. You did tell him you had plans on Friday. It’s obvious he’s fishing a little, but he’s been pretty honest about being interested in you from the start. Now Sera is looking at you questioningly, too.
This is a chance to let him down easy. Might as well take it.
“Thought you worked.” Sera says, stacking her cups on the plate you’re still carrying. When you give her a look, she just grins.
She knows what you were doing. Jerk.
“I did, I had a date after work.” You tell her, and then smile faintly at the hard look she gives you, teasing, “Deal with it, Sera. Yes, it was a real date.”
“Really?” She asks you with disbelief, and then when you life a shoulder, she makes a sound of disgust, “Y’got no taste.”
“So you’ve said!” You laugh, and then glance at Anders, “Yes, I had a nice time, thanks.”
Well, sort of. But honestly, it feels kind of wrong to go to into it more than you did earlier to Sera. Like you’re complaining about Solas. Which, maybe you kind of want to, but that also feels like not respecting that he wants space. It’s complicated. Sometimes the best thing to do is to not get too far into it.
Besides, you’re trying to let someone down, not complain about someone else.
“That’s good! You know, I think I should find Hawke.” Anders says, grabbing another shot off of the plate, and lifting it to you with a friendly smile, “Thanks for this.”
“You’re welcome.” You say, and then wait in silence as he retreats. The door closes, and you look over at Sera.
She stares at you.
You stare at her.
Your butt is starting to get really cold.
“What?” She finally says, “Either way, you got shit taste. All the same t’me.”
You start laughing.
Is there anyone you wanted to introduce me to? Maybe I haven’t met them yet.
“Maybe.” Sera repeats mock-sourly.
She actually seems in a pretty good mood, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you back into the house. Your feet are a little bit damp, but someone has been keeping the deck clear, so it’s not that bad. Besides, the house is warm, and before long your ears are flushed and your cheeks are probably red.
Hopefully not your nose, though.
It’s starting to get a bit noisier as people get drunker, and you keep your eyes open for anyone that looks like they need a hand. At least the party seems to be the cheerful type, you don’t see anyone breaking things or bothering someone who looks uncomfortable.
By the time you make it out of the living room and down the hall, your plate is empty, and then stolen by a very drunk person who has a sandwich and nowhere to put it. They seem exceedingly grateful for the plate.
You’re happy you could help.
The closer you get to what looks like another living room (this one in the front of the house), the louder a single voice becomes. Very loud. Very gruff…and very drunk.
And, much to your surprise, it turns out to be someone you don’t know. A red-haired dwarven man appears to be in the middle of a very loud story, which apparently has Alistair (oh, look, it’s Alistair) turning bright red, and a tall woman with short, dark hair looking exceedingly uncomfortable.
“And then I said, I said to the waitress: Well, I can tell you where the salt shaker went, but you’re not gonna like it.” The man finishes, and then starts laughing uproariously.
“That is disgusting.” The woman says brusquely, with a crisp Nevarran accent.
“I’m still trying to figure it out.” Alistair confesses, “What was the bacon grease for?”
“What, did I miss it?” Sera asks, disappointment clear, “I always miss th’beginning of that story. Oghren, tell it again.”
“Please do not.” The woman interrupts, a little desperately.
Alistair, I just walked in here and I can already tell you what the bacon grease was for. C’mon, man.
Oghren starts laughing again, slapping his knee as Alistair turns his bewildered gaze on you. After a few seconds, you finally shrug, and his forehead furrows.
“Riiight.” He says, giving a small shake of his head, “Maybe it’s better I don’t know.”
“Trust me, it is.” The woman you don’t know declares, and then turns her attention to Sera, “Is everything all right?”
Well, that’s a weird question. You give Sera a curious look, but she avoids your gaze, shrugging her shoulders at the woman. A few seconds pass, and then she finally sighs, heavily.
“Yeah, it’s fine.” Sera says, and then gives a small snort, “Scared ‘em right off.”
“Wait, did something happen?” You ask Sera worriedly, glancing from her to the woman.
“Someone was just…hangin’ around in the parking lot other day. Creepy.” Sera tells you, and then adds a bit defensively, “I coulda handled it myself, but she’s big and scary.”
The dark-haired woman narrows her eyes slightly, but doesn’t say anything.
“Do you…work with Wynne?” You ask the woman, glancing between them still, “I haven’t seen anyone hanging around the parking lot. Do you know them, Sera?”
“Nah, Cassandra works th’other side.” Sera tells you, and then peers at you, “All the people here, she’s the one you don’t know?”
“I work at the…department of motor vehicles.” Cassandra tells you, sighing heavily as Oghren starts snickering heavily, “I do not know why that is funny.”
There’s like three conversations going on here at once, and you’re starting to get confused. Eventually, worry for Sera wins out.
“Sera, is someone stalking you or something?” You ask, and then add, “You should tell Tor, you know they need to know that stuff.”
“Leave it.” Sera orders you, “A party, innit? Quit bein’ a pain.”
“Sooo…how about that weather?” Alistair says, awkwardly.
There is definitely weather outside. Have you been keeping up with Local Sports Team?
You decide to leave it for now, but you give Sera the eyeball. You know, the ‘we’re talking about this later’ eyeball. She rolls her eyes at you.
“I have heard that if they score more points than the other team, they may win the big game.” Alistair declares, seeming quite happy to have someone to make stupid jokes with.
“You two are nutters.” Sera accuses, and then gives a long sigh, “An’ I need another drink. Hey, what you drinkin’?”
“Soda.” You tell her, and then grin at her scowl, “I drove. You’ll be grateful in a few hours when you’re drunk and don’t have to take the bus home.”
“You got a point. Also, boring.” She tells you.
Turning around, she wanders off abruptly. You aren’t worried, she’ll probably be back, unless she gets distracted.
“You work with Sera?” Cassandra asks you, drawing your attention back. “You have encountered no difficulties?”
“We mostly work opposite shifts, but yes, I work at the store, too.” You say, and she nods her head. “No, nobody’s given me any trouble. At least not apart from general creepiness.”
“That is good. Perhaps I will see you some time, since we are neighbors.” Cassandra tells you, and then lifts a hand to check her watch. “It is getting late. I should find Leliana, I think. Please excuse me, won’t you?”
“Have a good night!” You tell her, lifting a hand in a little wave. Whatever else you might say is interrupted by a loud snore.
All three of you glance over at Oghren. He appears to have passed out in a chair. Cassandra sighs and shakes her head as she pushes to her feet and heads out.
“Aw, look. He’s drooling.” Alistair says, fondly, “Like an adorable bearded baby that smells like the floor of a liquor store bathroom.”
“Should we wake him up?” You ask.
“No, he’ll just be surly.” Alistair says, looking back at you, “Trust me, this is preferable. Drunk people are fun, aren’t they?”
You’re not drinking? Why not?
“I tend to make a bit of an idiot of myself.” Alistair says, lifting his shoulders in a shrug, “Trying to behave myself and all. Under strict orders.”
“How’s that working out for you?” You ask.
“Oh, well, I haven’t nearly injured anyone in ages! Now myself, that’s another matter, isn’t it?” Alistair replies, with a small grin.
It doesn’t seem entirely genuine, but you don’t know him well enough to say that for sure. You’re saved from having to think of a response, because you get hit in the face.
With a pillow.
It comes out of nowhere (probably the archway), smacking into the side of your head as Alistair stares blankly. Reflexively you reach for it, and realize that it seems to be a decorative throw pillow.
“I told Carver you were here!” Bethany exclaims, jabbing a finger at you as you glance over, “See, you’re here!”
Someone is very drunk.
“I am here!” You agree, glancing down as Bethany wanders over and flops across your lap, legs dangling over the arm of the sofa, “Someone got started early.”
“I can’t hold my alcohol.” Bethany replies woefully, muffled by the cushions, “Isabela made me a drink. It tasted good, so I drank it all. It betrayed me.”
“I’d tell you that you should know better, but I don’t think it would do any good.” You say, giving her a little pat on the back, which just makes her groan.
“Do you think I should get some water?” Alistair suggests, a little worriedly.
Probably not a bad idea.
“Right. Be right back.” Alistair says, pushing up after a glance at the still-snoring Oghren. “I’d bring him something, too, but he gets offended if it’s non-alcoholic.”
After Alistair heads out into the noisier rest of the party in search for water, you start trying to get Bethany sitting upright. With many apologies, and lots of pulling and tugging, you finally manage to get her slumped on the couch next to you, her head resting on your shoulder. And then she starts hiccuping.
That’s pretty adorable.
You pat her back and try not to laugh at her as she gets more and more flustered, face red and hiccups squeakier than ever by the time Alistair returns. He hands you the water, not even bothering to hide his laugh.
“I think there may be a mouse in the house.” Alistair says, laughing all the harder when Bethany tries to glare at him, “Sorry, sorry. Couldn’t resist.”
“Here, just drink up.” You say, tucking the glass into her hands, but keeping one close in case she drops it, “Better for you than whatever Isabela gave you.”
You keep an eye on things while Bethany downs her water. Carver pokes his head in briefly to check on her, but seems unwilling to hang around. You’ve apparently parked yourself in the quiet part of the party. Or, at least the drunken recovery center. Someone else looking pretty intoxicated wanders in, and curls up in the corner of the room and falls asleep.
They don’t seem to be in any immediate danger, so you leave them be.
Once Bethany’s had her water and the hiccups have been quelled, she seems a little more coherent, but still pretty far gone.
“I forgot to ask you. Did…did you have fun yesterday?” She asks you, peering up into your face blearily, “I was going to text you, but I didn’t want to be a bother.”
I did! You’ll never guess where he took me.
You’ve been good. You were nice about letting Anders down, you didn’t say much of anything to Sera, knowing about her feelings. You’re being completely mature and giving Solas all the space he needs…
You feel like you’re allowed to gush a little bit. Maybe just skirt the bits that sound…ah…illegal.
“To see the holiday lights?” Bethany asks, and then tries again at your denial, “Did you go to Varric’s?”
“No. He took me to the planetarium.” You tell her, taking the empty glass back from her.
“What, the one they’re getting rid of?” Alistair asks you, sounding a bit puzzled.
“Yep.” You say, “To watch the show. As far as I know, there was no one else there. It was really amazing.”
“That seems…” Alistair says dubiously.
“Romantic. Just you and the stars.” Bethany interrupts with a gusty sigh, “Wasn’t it?”
“It was…something I’m going to remember for a long time.” You say, with a small smile, “Even if we don’t go out again. It’ll be a nice memory.”
“Why wouldn’t you? Was he rude? Scary?” Bethany asks you, pulling back and staring into your face. “Merrill says he’s scary. He wasn’t scary at you, was he?”
I think Merrill’s maybe just psyched herself out a little. He’s actually really nice!
“That does sound like Merrill…” Alistair says thoughtfully, and then lifts his hands when Bethany peers at him, “What? I’m just here for the gossip.”
“You don’t get to sit around and take gossip unless you have gossip to give.” You tell Alistair.
Bethany nods her head quite seriously, then stops and closes her eyes with a frown. She suddenly doesn’t look so great, a little green around the gills.
“Is that so?” Alistair replies, lifting his arm and staring at his bare wrist. “Oh, look at the time. Such a shame. I have to work in the morning.”
“Coward!” Bethany accuses a little weakly, as he rises to her feet. “Get back here.”
“Good night.” Alistair replies, giving a small shake of his head with a lopsided grin, “Take care of her, won’t you?”
“Oh, sure. Night.” You reply, and then glance aside as Bethany sighs, slumping even harder against you, “You okay?”
“Head is spinning.” She murmurs, forehead creasing.
Right, to the bathroom it is.
What happens next is unsurprising as it is unnecessary to describe. People get out of your way, and someone points you to the bathroom and clears the way for you. Bethany apologizes when she isn’t busy being sick, but you’re more worried about her than grossed out.
She sure wasn’t joking when she said she couldn’t hold her liquor.
You find a hair tie for her, freeing you up so you can get her another glass of water. The bathroom is a hot commodity, you assume, but no one bothers you until she’s miserably spitting a mouthful of water into the sink, and you’re making sure there’s no mess on the floor.
“Heard there’s a problem.” A voice says from outside, and Hawke pokes their head in, eyebrow raised. Looking more amused than upset, they grin at Bethany. “Really?”
“It’s Isabela’s fault.” Bethany protests, weakly.
“All right, little sister, let’s go for a ride.” Hawke declares, stepping in and scooping her up easily (and carefully), “Just don’t barf on me.”
“Thank you.” Bethany says to you, groaning as Hawke turns for the door, “Stop moving.”
“Not moving won’t get you to bed, ya drunk.” Hawke replies with a laugh.
Wait…Briala knows Felassan, right? Sure, this is a party, but…maybe we should tell Sera? She wasn’t there when you saw them together.
After making sure Bethany is all taken care of, you start wandering your way through the party. It’s not surprising Sera got sidetracked, it’s pretty noisy now. At it’s peak, you’d say, a lot of drunk people and laughter and even a couple people getting their smoochies on.
Good for them.
You stop in at the kitchen to get another soda (the brownies are long gone, go you!), and you realize there’s a card game going on in the adjoining dining room.
There she is!
And a few people you recognize, actually. Varric seems to be dealing, Fenris is glowering behind his cards, and Josephine is nursing a glass of wine and reigning over a massive pile of chips. She looks both drunk, and terribly pleased with herself.
Sera doesn’t have many chips, but she seems more interested in her beer than the game.
“Hey, sorry. Sera, when you have a second, can you talk?” You ask her, approaching the table with an apologetic smile.
“Yeah, sure. Foldin’.” Sera says agreeably, tossing her cards down on the table.
You were right, she doesn’t really seem to be that into the game. You lean towards her as you sit, lowering your voice, garnering you a curious look from Fenris.
“I forgot to tell you. You know Briala, right?” You ask, and she nods, squinting sidelong at you, “Before we even went to that Gallery…I completely forgot, but I saw her talking to Felassan. At the cafe at Valmont.”
As that penetrates, she leans back and stares at you. You shrug, lifting your soda for a sip, and then nearly cough it out when she cuffs you on the shoulder.
“She knows ‘im, an’ you didn’t say anything?” She asks you, rather loudly.
“I forgot!” You protest, and then glance up to the head of the table when Varric clears his throat.
“You in or out, Buttercup?” He asks, shuffling the deck together.
“Nah, I gotta go.” Sera replies, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you to your feet. “Got to find a person about a dog.”
No way, this is going to be a disaster! Let’s do this when you’re sober.
You raise your concern as Sera drags you out into the hall, and she stops short and turns to stare at you.
“Am not!” Sera protests belligerently, and then asks you, pointedly, “Why’d y’even tell me if you were goin’ tell me not to?”
That…is a good point, actually, and one you have no answer to. Awkward. You stare at her for a couple seconds, and then finally lift your soda and take a sip.
She sighs in disgust.
“I don’t know, I just remembered it.” You finally say, lowering your voice as someone walks by, “What was that about someone coming to work? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, yeah, whatever. Fine. Nothin’.” Sera says unconvincingly.
“You’re full of shit.” You inform her, point blank.
“Yep.” She agrees, and then rolls her eyes, “Actually nothin’, but I know it doesn’ sound like nothin’, so that’s shit, but it isn’t.”
“You lost me.” You admit, glancing at her phone as she pulls it out, “You’re going to have to explain.”
“I got a message. On th’…thing, I showed you?” Sera explains, opening it up and handing it to you, “Place where I showed the pictures, it was anonymous, like you told me to. They want to know where I got them.”
“If it’s anonymous, how did they find you?” You ask, feeling a little uneasy by that. “You mean like…hackers?”
Suddenly, you’re worried you’re trapped in a movie starring goggles, incomprehensible techno babble, and lots of very fast keyboard smashing. You were not prepared for this.
You don’t even have a code name.
“Don’t be stupid.” Sera tells you, much to your relief. “Nothing’s really anonymous, is it?”
Oh. Well, that doesn’t make you feel better.
“So they found you…somehow.” You say, and then squint a little at her guilty look, the sidelong roll of her eyes. “How?”
“When I took pictures of th’pictures maybe there was a shop bag in one of ‘em.” Sera admits, and then defensively adds before you can say anything, “Just one! Y’couldn’t even see th’whole shop name!”
“Holy crap.” You decide, slapping your hands over your face.
“I got excited.” Sera says, defensively, and then hurries on. “Anyways, it’s all right now, was just some dumb kid. Got too excited, acted stupid, but I talked to them. It’s all right now.”
Them? How? …How is it all right now?
Sera’s story is long, rambling, and drunk, but by the end of it, you…think you’ve got it straight? And even though she seems completely sure that everything’s fine, you’re not so sure.
“So, let me get this straight.” You finally say, once she’s run out of steam, “There’s some people online who pretend at doing this stuff, like Fen’harel stuff, and they figured out where you work so some dumb kid in the group got too excited and tried to find you?”
“Ain’t pretending!” Sera protests, a little sourly, “What, just because we’re people, regular people, we can’t do it, too? Make people listen?”
“That’s not what I meant, Sera.” You sigh, noticing the ‘we’ pretty obviously. “Seriously? Because I don’t think I can afford bail,”
“Then I won’t get caught!” Sera replies, and then grins broadly, shrugging her shoulders, “Nothin’ wrong with makin’ friends, is there? You wanna help, don’t you?”
Wait, you didn’t tell them about where you got the photos, did you?
“No.” Sera says, avoiding your eyes, “Not really.”
“Sera!”
You glare at her until she finally looks back at you, and you can tell she looks a little bit guilty. Great.
“Said I got a friend who knows somebody, that’s all.” Sera tells you, “Not a lie, is it?”
“I don’t even know how to answer that.” You tell her, “So you’re just going to be all mysterious, huh? Pretend like you have these secret friends that know how to get to Fen’harel?”
“How’s that not the truth?” Sera asks you, crossing her arms.
“Because it’s not! People who know people who know people…it’s like the world’s worst game of telephone.” You grouse, rubbing your forehead, “I’m nobody, okay? And for all you know, so is Felassan. Don’t make this into a bigger deal than it is.”
“You’re scared.” She accuses drunkenly, leaning heavily against your arm, “You don’t gotta be scared, okay? Nobody’s gonna hurt you, they got to get through me.”
In for a penny, I guess. What exactly are you guys planning to do, anyways?
“Heard there’s a thing tomorrow. Not my thing, but a thing.” Sera says, and you’re becoming aware that she’s leaning pretty heavily on you now, “Thing that’s gonna happen. Round about the city or something. Oh! Did you hear?”
“You are making less sense by the second. Hear about what?” You ask, giving in and slinging an arm around her to prop her up.
“Heard that at the big party there’s gonna be a thing.” You’re pretty sure Sera’s said the word thing about twenty times in a row now.
“Maybe we should wait until you sober up.” You sigh, trying to drag her down the hall with you. “Let’s find you somewhere to sit.”
“Valmont party. The big one. Saying there’s gonna be a painting, big old…here it is, everybody look sort of thing.” Sera says, sourly. “Like he’d do that for some rich frigging bastards.”
You can only assume she means Fen’harel, which makes sense since ‘his’ contacts are through the Valmont family. Hard to navigate a conversation with her right now, though.
“Well, you already think it’s fake.” You point out. “So it’s just one more fake, right?”
“He wouldn’t do that.” Sera agrees spitefully, “He’d spit right on ‘em. Tell ‘em to shove their money!”
“That sounds uncomfortable.” You joke, “So what exactly is the cause? I’m still not clear on that.”
“Big people are assholes to little people.” Sera replies, and then swats you away when you try to shove her into a chair. “Lay off.”
Sit down and drink some water, or I’m taking you home!
Sera bitches and moans, but she sits her ass down, which is really all you can hope for while she’s so drunk. Leaving her there, out of the way, you duck in and head for the kitchen. It’s a bit difficult to navigate, some people are actually just arriving, and even though some have left, there’s now more people here than when you got here. Wow. Hawke must know everyone.
Luckily, it’s not hard to find a bottle of water, there’s flats of them stacked up on one side of the kitchen. Warm, but you doubt anyone really cares. You grab a plate of chips and crackers and stuff, too, just in case she needs to eat something, and then head back out again, saying hi to Merrill again in passing.
Sera’s not in the chair where you left her, you realize the instant you return. Great.
A brief hunt locates her sitting on the back of the couch in the living room, having a very intense discussion with Zevran about the movie. You can’t quite figure out what exactly they’re caring so much about, but you wander over and hand her the bottle of water.
She takes a swig without looking at it, and then glances over and gives you a betrayed look.
“Just drink it.” You order her, and she grumbles, but takes another drink.
“I was wondering where you were hiding.” Zevran greets you, slinging an arm behind the couch, “You look distressingly sober.”
That’s me. Distressingly sober.
“Ah, well, there is nothing wrong with preferring not to drink.” Zevran says, waving a hand dismissively. “As long as it does not dampen the mood, no?”
“If you ask Sera, I might be ruining it.” You joke, glancing down at her.
She seems enraptured with the movie, sliding off of the back of the couch to park on a cushion, but every now and again reaches over and steals a tortilla chip from your plate. The bottle of water is half empty, but you keep an eye on it.
“Looking after people is not mood ruining, unless you lecture them.” Zevran tells you, and then pauses, reaching up and stroking his chin, “Though, I am partial to a good reprimanding, should the occasion arise.”
“Wot?” Sera asks, and then scowls when he pats her on the head, “Lay off.”
Abruptly Josephine appears from behind you, leaning over the back of the couch, cheeks red. She gathers up Zevran’s hair, plaits a braid into the side, and then turns around and wanders off again, without saying a word. Zevran takes a sip of his drink.
I left my riding crop at home, sorry.
“Really…” Zevran says, with a grin, “I would love to be introduced some time. Or perhaps it is a bit too shy to come out in public?”
“Well, you sure aren’t, are you?” You say playfully, and he laughs.
You realize, after a second, that Sera is eyeing both of you silently. You can’t tell if she’s disgusted, or confused. Maybe both.
“No, I like to consider myself a fairly…up front person.” Zevran says, lifting his glass to you, “About things I find interesting.”
“Interesting?” You ask.
“Yes. Though, perhaps intriguing is the better word.” He says, grin widening, “My curiosity is what some might call…insatiable.”
You’re not sure at this point if he’s just flirting, or actually serious. One is fun, the other is still fun, but way more complicated. Still, it is a party, and technically you’re not in a relationship or anything.
One date is hardly a commitment, right?
Luckily, it’s about the journey, not the destination, don’t you think?
“Ah, I have never particularly thought so…” Zevran says, lips twisting up into a wry smirk, “But there is enjoyment to be found in both, I suppose. Not every journey, to continue your metaphor, has to end up somewhere.”
“Where are we goin’?” Sera interjects, a bit vaugely.
You recognize this state, though you’ve only seen it once or twice. The time of night when Sera goes from drunk to sleepy drunk. If you’re not careful, she’ll crawl under a table somewhere and go to sleep. It generally goes from messing with people, to hanging out (and arguing), and then finally to naptime.
Hopefully you’ve helped her avoid a hangover.
“Nowhere, Sera, don’t worry about it.” You tell her with a little grin. “At least I’m not.”
She looks at you suspiciously, chewing slowly on another cracker.
“I am not one to press, never fear. Unless asked to, of course.” Zevran says, with a sly grin, “Hard to get is not a particularly entertaining game unless both parties are aware of it, no?”
“Yeah, you’ve got that right.” You agree. “You don’t think I’m…”
“Not at all.” Zevran interrupts you, “I enjoy a bit of verbal sparring for its own sake.”
That’s good, at least. Nice that he’s so honest about it.
You share a smile with him, and then glance at a nearby clock. Wow, it’s past one already.
You do have to go somewhere tomorrow, but not until after lunch. You could afford to stay out a bit later, even if Sera’s about to pass out. She’s a big girl, she can handle herself, after all.
Okay, I think I need to get Sera home. Sorry, Zevran.
“I will try not to miss you too terribly.” Zevran says, grinning at you.
“I’m sure I’ll randomly see you somewhere I didn’t even know you worked.” You say, and he laughs.
Stepping around the couch, you grab Sera’s arm and give her a little tug. She wobbles to her feet and then slumps against you, blinking blearily.
“Where we goin’?” She asks you.
“Home.” You say, succinctly, “Do I need to get some caffeine in you?”
“Nah, nah, all right.” She promises, pulling herself upright and rubbing her eyes with both hands, “Be nice t’wake up in my bed for once.”
“I have always found it a bit overrated.” Zevran says, and then laughs at the look Sera gives him, “Good night to you, too.”
“Night.” She mumbles, giving him a swat on the shoulder before following after you as you head around the couch.
The party’s still fairly noisy, but Sera’s not the only one a bit out of it. There’s a couple people slipping out as you head towards the front of the house, making sure Sera doesn’t wander off.
Abruptly she plops down on the floor in front of the shoe pile, and starts digging through it as you stare down at her. Well, at least she’s looking.
I need to do a quick run-through of the house, someone else might need a ride. Don’t want anyone doing anything dumb.
You leave Sera at the shoe pile and start a survey of the house. Most people seem to still be having a good time, you do find Hawke easily enough. They say Bethany’s doing fine, out like a light, so that’s good. You say thanks and goodbye, and get a very awkwardly enthusiastic hug that you were not expecting at all.
Yikes, Hawke is strong.
You duck into the kitchen, barely remembering your brownie container. The last of the chips and salsa can stay, you did bring them for the party. Over in the dining room, you hear arguing, quite loud arguing. Actually, you recognize both of the voices! It’s Leliana and, surprisingly…you’re pretty sure the other person is Dorian?
Why are you surprised by that? Everyone knows everyone, you should be aware of it by now.
Outside of the kitchen, through the door to your right, you can faintly see Anders staring out at the back yard from the wrap-around side of the deck. He doesn’t look too cheerful, and you think he might be by himself.
Let’s go poke our heads into the dining room. Leliana wasn’t doing good earlier, maybe she needs a ride. Besides, we can say hello to Dorian.
You peek into the dining room, curious to see what’s going on in there now. It’s not just Dorian and Leliana, but Merrill and Varric, too. Merrill is just building a house of cards with Varric’s deck and talking to him, seeming blithely unconcerned with the argument.
Dorian slaps the table at the end of a sentence, making it tumble down. She just sighs, and starts all over again. You’re a bit confused why no one seems to care, until you realize Dorian and Leliana are arguing about.
“It is ridiculous not to know how.” Leliana says sharply, jabbing a finger in Dorian’s direction, “What would you do, if you were on a boat, and someone threw you over the side?”
“Well, for starters, I wouldn’t go on the boat in the first place.” Dorian replies dismissively, “So it’s hardly a concern.”
Leliana notices you, since she’s the one facing you, and scoffs to you as if it were a horrible travesty, still a bit too loudly, “Dorian cannot swim. He is a grown man, and he cannot swim! Can you believe it?”
“Tell the whole bloody world, why don’t you?” Dorian retorts, and then glances over his shoulder at you, “Oh. Hello again.”
“Hello.” You greet, feeling a good deal better, “I’m taking Sera home. Looking around to see if anyone else needs a ride.”
“Josephine and I are going to call a taxi.” Leliana tells you tipsily, distracted away from her interrogation of Dorian, “Josie is drunk.”
“Yes, just her.” Dorian agrees sarcastically, and then says to you, “You’re just around the corner from us, aren’t you?”
“I am.” You confirm, as he checks his watch, “Do you need a lift?”
“What is it, Sunday? Yes, I should be getting home.” Dorian says, nodding his head to you, “Thank you. Do you have room for two more? I should check up on Dagna.”
Yeah. Just going to check if Anders needs a ride, then I’ll meet you at the front.
You duck back out of the dining room after a farewell and pass through the kitchen, heading for the door you saw him out of earlier. He’s still out there, reading something on his phone. When you open the door, he jumps a little, glancing over his shoulder, hair falling in his eyes. The phone gets tucked into his pocket, quickly.
“Hey. I’m giving rides, do you need one?” You ask, offering a quick smile.
“No, I don’t think so.” Anders says, pushing the hair back out of his face, pulling a hair band off of his wrist an twisting up his hair.
“Okay, goodnight!” You reply, and start to pull back.
“Just…a second?” He says, quickly. “Sorry, can I ask you something?”
Not entirely sure that’s a great idea, but at least he doesn’t sound like he’s about to make any grand confessions.
“As long as it’s quick.” You joke, looking upwards, “It’s cold as heck out here!”
“Good for clearing the head.” Anders agrees, relaxing a little bit, “I just wanted to know…”
He trails off into silence, staring at you for a second, and then abruptly clearing his throat when you tilt your head.
“How are the kittens?” He finishes at last.
“Doing good. Trouble!” You say, smiling brightly. “Getting bigger all the time.”
I haven’t told them yet they’re adopted. I’m afraid I’ll break their hearts.
“I would think they’d be quite grateful, not upset.” He replies, looking a little less gloomy, managing a wry smile, “I apologize, if I have made things a bit awkward.”
“It’s okay.” You assure him quickly, giving a small shake of your head, “Really. It’s okay.”
He doesn’t seem like he wants to go any further than that, which is fair. He gives you a nod and another smile, this one more relaxed, and then glances back over his shoulder at the yard.
“Looks like it’s going to be a bit of a cold winter.” He tells you, shoving his hands in his pockets, “Drive safely.”
“If they’re annoying I’ll just make them all sit together in the back seat.” You say with a smile, “Good night, Anders.”
“Good night.” He says, turning back to the railing.
You head back into the house, feeling a little better now. That might have eaten you up if you just left him there and didn’t check in on him. With your tupperware in hand, you make your way slowly to the front of the house, saying goodbyes where necessary.
Dagna, Dorian, and Sera are waiting for you at the door, and you grab your shoes quickly. Pulling Sera up off of the floor (and grateful Dagna seems to be keeping her awake with chattering), you all head out into the cold.
“Is she going to be sick?” Dorian asks you as you all head down the sidewalk, giving Sera a dubious look as she sways against you, “If so, I would like to be as far away from her as possible.”
“Shut up.” Sera suggests to Dorian, scowling, “Can hold my drinks.”
“Really? So the drunken swaying is just an optical illusion?” Dorian asks, “No, I can hold my liquor. You can’t even hold your head up.”
Maybe you should avoid putting them together. And not just because of the vomit. You’re not sure you want to listen to bickering the whole way home.
Dorian can sit in the front, it’ll be nice to have someone to talk to.
Dorian’s quite good company, his sense of humor is cuttingly sarcastic, and he seems to be quite talkative tonight. Even though he’s composed, you have a sneaking suspicion he’s not entirely sober. Dagna’s chattering away at Sera in the back, and Sera seems to be enjoying it, so that’s nice. You’re not sure what they’re talking about, but it gets noisy at times.
Sera’s first, since Dorian and Dagna live so close to you. You’ve been to Sera’s place once, enough to find it with the help of your phone. Her building’s a bit run down, but she says the people are good, and so are her roommates.
When you pull up to the curb down the block from her house, you offer to walk her up, but she waves you off. Still, you keep an eye on her until she gets inside, and then immediately text her. It seems having someone to talk to did wake her up nicely, because she texts you right back and tells you to shove off and stop worrying.
You figure that’s as good as you’re going to get.
Sera’s not too far out of the way to get home, maybe only an extra five or ten minutes. You’re starting to get a better idea of how everyone knows each other now…it’s complicated, but funny. Apparently Dorian knows Leliana from the mall, and knows Fenris from the University (you didn’t even know Fenris was at the University, or that he and Dorian have some sort of weird hate/friendship thing going on), and Dagna knows Alistair and Leliana because they let her stay with them when she left home with basically nothing to go to school…
Like you said, complicated. Confusing. And yet somehow it makes things clearer at the same time.
Then again, at this point, is your meeting and greeting people who know each other any less complicated and confusing?
By the time you drop off Dorian and Dagna, you have his number in your phone now, and on the way out he informs you that you’re having lunch with him on Monday, since you both work.
Well, okay then.
It’s past two in the morning when you get home, but the cats are up. You’re not surprised by that, they’re getting in their nightly crazies. It’s kind of nice to have someone waiting for you to get home, even if they show their appreciation by climbing up your leggings and gouging claws into your knee.
You feed them, check your messages, and toss your tupperware in the sink.
END OF DAY 7
It’s very late, but you don’t have to meet Cole at the senior center until about one in the afternoon. Should you set an alarm?
You set your alarm for ten, and head to bed.
Good night.