Two months, this time. It wasn't that he was avoiding the clan, exactly, so much as avoiding having to figure out what his life in the clan was. He never seemed to say the right thing, when the Keeper spoke to him. She wanted responsibility and team work, and he- well, at the moment, he wanted to tell someone about the troupe of dwarven actors that he'd stumbled across on their way from Kirkwall to Starkhaven. Or about that one particular nug that he could have sworn was golden.
If he'd had brothers or sisters, perhaps that would have done - but save the general familial ties of his clan, Gavin had no family.
Which is probably why he was coming to bother Beleth, when he arrived back, rather than visit anyone else.
"Brought you something," He said as he ducked down beside her. He always tried to bring souvenirs back from his wanderings - it tended to lessen the yelling.
Beleth's life in the clan was laid out for her. Indeed, she had made few decisions in the grand scheme of her life, however average it was for a Dalish. Showing few skills elsewhere, she'd been apprenticed to the Hunters. When one of the skills that did emerge was an ability to speak amicably with nearly everyone, no matter how prickly they might be, she became one of the main traders with the humans. That was her life.
What she wanted or didn't want rarely factored into these things.
Maybe that's why she got along so well with Gavin. She envied him, in a way. She could never imagine just taking off like he did, wandering in and out of the clan like a half-feral cat. She was curious about the world outside of the clan, but she was more worried about how the clan would perceive her doing that. If they would talk about her like they spoke about Gavin.
When he does show up, though, he's greeted with an enthusiastic grin. "You're back! I was so worried, Gavin, would it kill you to send a note back once in a while? Let us know you haven't ended up dead in a ditch?" She didn't bother to tell him that the Keeper wasn't pleased, that there was yet more murmuring about him, because he probably already knew that. Instead, she clucks at him like a mother hen, reaching up to take his shoulder, and carefully inspect his face for signs of any hardship. "Are you hungry? I can sneak you a meal, if you want. But tell me--Where did you go?"
And, of course, what did he get her, but Beleth would never be rude enough to demand a gift.
The grin she gave him pulled an immediate one to his lips in reply, though he tried to wave away the fuss she made over him. "Oh, I'm fine, I'm fine. Though I think the Keeper might actually be relieved if I managed to get myself holed up somewhere else." His grin turned lopsided as he swung his bow and quiver down in front of him. "And starving, but I think I should probably face the music eventually, and best to do that when I can look starved and pathetic."
He opened up his pack, rummaging through it. "Oh, here and there. Kirkwall, first, though it seemed like a bit of a mess was brewing, so I turned around and went to Starkhaven instead - you should have seen the dwarves I met! I tried to take a ship to Ferelden - I know, I know, it's too far, but I thought it would be interesting anyway - but of course then I went and got sea sick. About that time I ran out of anything worth trading, so home sounded the best bet. Aha!" He paused as he fished out something wrapped up tightly in a cloth. When he unwrapped it, a delicate, silver woven mask was revealed. It should have been Orlesian, but there was something strange about it. Heavier looking than it should be.
"Here," He said, handing it to her. "Dwarven, if you would believe it. I traded it for a ram I was getting ready to roast, to some very hungry actors."
"I would be sad, if you stayed away permanently." She replies, craning her neck to peer curiously at his pack as he went through it. "She really would miss you, you know. I can tell." That's a lie, Beleth is closer with the halla than she is her own mother. She has no idea how the woman feels on anything, even when the woman states it clearly, because just like Beleth, what she says is not always what it looks like on the surface. But it sounded nice to say, and Beleth felt like it was something that ought to be said.
"Kirkwall--Gavin, that place is a hornet's nest! I can't believe you went there, you're lucky the templars didn't just kill you on the off chance you might be an apostate! And--Ferelden, really?" She frowned at that, fussing turning into genuine concern. He'd been gone two months--If he'd managed to get to Ferelden, it could have been well over a year. "Gavin, that really is too far." Her voice was reproachful, sighing even as she reached to take his present. "I know you wander, but Ferelden is..."
Her words drifted off, never to be finished as he unwraps the gift. Instead, disapproval turned into surprise, to see something so fine, so beautiful. She took it with careful hands, afraid that her rough fingers could ruin something so fine. "Oh, Gavin. This is beautiful. Are you sure I can have it?" She wasn't sure what she would do with such a thing, for she was no actor. But it was a rare thing for her, to possess something that had no purpose but to be beautiful. "You're too kind."
"Well, I couldn't bare to make you sad," He said, smiling, touched despite knowing very well that the Keeper would probably much rather shove him off on the first Dalish clan that would taken him. But it was the thought that counted.
He grinned as she took the present.
"Of course you can have it. I don't think it would suit me very well, or your mother, and I can't let it go to waste." Despite the flippancy, he was obviously very pleased that she was pleased with it. He leaned back, taking a deep breath, looking up through the light filtering past the foliage of the trees above.
"And yes, I know it's far. I'd go farther, if I could. Orlais, maybe, or the wastes beyond. But I admit that it's hard to get very far on my own."
The frown came back to her face as he spoke, one that even such a beautiful mask couldn't appease. Her fingers traced over the gentle dips and curves of the mask as she tried to think of what to say. Clucking after someone with worry was one thing, but she didn't like to get truly upset at anyone. But the idea of him being totally fine with going that far--If he ever managed to even get there in the first place, who knew if the Keeper would even take him back. Beleth knew better than anyone else that even she had limited patience, and Gavin constantly stretched it.
When she does speak, her words are quiet, thoughtful. "That's why the Dalish live in clans, Gavin." Though her face remained towards the mask, she glanced up at him reproachfully. "We work better together. Our loyalty to each other makes us stand out from those flat ears in the villages, who forget their roots and forget each other." Her eyes flick back down to the mask, lips pressed in a thin line. She doesn't want to say anything mean, she doesn't want Gavin to get upset with her. If he gets upset at her, what if he takes even longer to come back? What if he really disappears for good?
"I won't lie, sometimes I wonder..." Her fingers went over the golden filigree. Imagining it being worn, imagining the kind of plays you would watch with someone wearing this. "But we can't always just do whatever strikes our fancy. Life isn't like that."
"Oh, I never forget you all," He said, smiling warmly to her frown. He's been hearing the same thing from her mother for years - in much harsher terms and firmer language - and he's all too used to it. "I take all of you everywhere I go."
He turned his head, looking off into the distance.
"It would be different, I think, If I were like you, Beleth. Or like Pel. Or any of the others, really. But I just... I tend to make things worse." He laughed, at that, but the laugh was a little forced. "And despite what the Keeper says, we can't just keep to ourselves forever. We can't just keep to this place forever!"
He turned his head back to look at her, tilting it with a sad smile on his lips. "There's so much out there. But I don't want you to think that means I don't care about you."
Cyril wasn't as close to Beleth as he would have liked, but that had mostly to do with so much of his energy being focused on those he thought needed him, like Merrick. Still, it made sense that she would need people to spend time who knew how to have a bit of fun.
When he found her he came up behind her and poked her very lightly in the side. "Beleth, just the one I wanted to see. I heard your last trade was with a couple of human warriors and I need to hear every little detail."
"I didn't just wake up and decide to be a Hunter, Gavin." She replied, shaking her head, expression solemn. "That was what I was good at, and that's what I was told to do, so I did it." As far as choices went, Beleth had made relatively few in her life, at least ones that mattered. Whether from her own passive nature, or the more domineering one of her mother, Beleth had spent most of her life being nudged down the path to become a proper Dalish. To be a good Hunter, loyal and unquestioning in what they were taught, the way they saw the world.
"We won't stay here forever, Gavin." She told him, voice still quiet. "Some day, Arlathan will be re-established. And when that day comes, we'll be able to stay there, and remember the old ways." Though it sounded good, it was an empty reassurance, as Beleth well knew, for who could tell when that day would finally arrive? Still, the portents were getting good: Orlais crumbling in civil war, Ferelden crumbling in civil war. Maybe if they both fell, things could begin to align. "Besides, we move around a lot already, don't we?"
But, she thinks, face solemn, turned away. That's exactly what he means, when he leaves. Maybe not that he doesn't care, but he just doesn't care enough. He doesn't care enough to try to settle down, to try to stay with them. He cares more for his roving than he does about them, and that is what it says, as clear as day, and that is what the other Dalish hear.
Beleth would be quick to reassure Cyril that he was right, that she didn't need anyone as much was he was needed by others, save perhaps Sorrel. And Sorrel was always around. Whether or not she was having fun was another matter entirely, one that she was perfectly happy to not try exploring.
She turned to Cyril when she was prodded, curious, though the expression quickly turned to resignation. Of course he came over to discuss the shemlen. "There are few details to give you, Cyril. They were humans. They were loud and rude and tried to rip me off. And I'm sure that when I left, they were murmuring to each other about that uppity knife-eared bitch trying to take advantage of them."
She paused, sighing, because she knew Cyril meant well enough. Even if she wished that he would be a little less obsessed with the humans. "They were attractive enough, as far as humans go, I suppose. They traded me swords and shields for pelts."
The smile disappeared as she spoke, the sadness pulling at the curl of his lip, making it disappear. He couldn't quite look at her. Could hear the reproach, even if she didn't say it. Had heard it enough times before.
"I know, Beleth," He murmured. "I did try. But Arlathan..." His voice trailed off, thoughtfully, and he looked down at the ground, picking up a stick to fiddle with so that his hands had something to do while he tried to figure out what to say.
"It isn't enough, what we do. How could we ever bring back anything without learning as much as we can? Thedas... this world is so big, Beleth. It's bigger than anyone can possibly fit into their heads. There's more out there than we ever see, from our Aravels. And I know I'm supposed to - I know I'm supposed to make myself fit. Take the shape that works best for me, for the clan. Creators, but I know that. But every time I try to force myself into a shape, a limb sticks out."
He poked the stick into the ground, tracing aimless patterns in the dirt.
Cyril grinned a bit, but only when she got to the 'they were attractive enough' part. "You should bring me along," he suggested, though he knew that wasn't likely. There was a reason that he was discouraged from seeking out humans.
"Though right now I think you're more in need of some fun to counter that frustration. Do you think you can slip away for a bit?"
He's wrong, he has to be wrong. It's the knowledge that they hold close, that they jealously guard, that's going to bring back Arlathan. What could going out and speaking to a bunch of dwarves teach any of them about the old, lost ways?
But more importantly, she's upset him. She was too rude, she said too much. She frowns, pressing her lips in a thin line, as if that would keep the words that hurt him from spilling out. But it was too late for that, wasn't it? Ugh.
"Gavin..." She sighed, and moved next to him, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Everyone has a purpose, that's what the Keeper always says. You just haven't found yours yet. And it's okay if it takes a bit...! And it's alright to doubt yourself. I mean, Creators know I do it enough." She gave a dry little laugh, glancing aside. "Doubting myself, I mean. I don't doubt you, Gavin. You've got a lot of talents." She hesitated, glancing back up to him for a moment.
"And sometimes I envy you. Seeing so much of the world, and seeing all those people." It was a quiet admittance, glancing down at her hands. She stays quiet for another few breaths, then seems to make a decision, and moves suddenly. Her hands rest on his shoulders, and she leans forward, pressing her lips against his.
She raised an eyebrow when Cyril offered to come with her. She knew the Keeper would never allow it, but she gives a wishywashy shrug. "I'll see what I can do." She says, knowing that there's no use in saying anything negative, when the Keeper will say no, and then it's her fault, not Beleth's. Her mother did manage to help Beleth out now and again, if unintentionally.
She hesitated when Cy asked his question, slowly turning to look at him with knit brows. She knows Cyril, and she knows his methods, and she also knows that as far as she knows, he's only ever shown interest in men. And she's pretty sure that she's not the exception.
But it's pretty damn rude to accuse someone of something like that, so instead she just nods, though there's a perplexed look on her face. "Sure. No one will miss me for a little bit."
Cyril raised his hands a bit at the expression. "Nothing like that," he promised her. "It's a spring. Not a lot in the clan know of it yet. We'll probably make use of it before he head out, but I thought you might enjoy it a bit to yourself first."
She instantly made a face when she realized that Cyril had seen through her, and shook her head apologetically. "Sorry--But a spring? That does sound nice. I wouldn't mind seeing it." She quickly grabbed up her bow, because it would be foolish to step out of camp unarmed, and turned to Cy, tilting her head. "How did you find it--Tell me on the way there."
Cyril has his bow as well and started to lead her out of camp. "Merrick and I found it. I asked him to keep it quiet for a bit," he explained. It was a bit selfish, he knew, but it wasn't as if they were going to hide it forever. He just wanted to do something nice for Beleth while he could. He did stop by and pick up containers to collect water though.
It wasn't too far from camp, but once they found it it was a nice, cool, clear pool of water. Perfect for gathering water or for bathing. The water wasn't too cold or too warm. It was serene and beautiful.
"I think I'm a little past 'a little bit'," He murmured wryly, offering her
a small lopsided smile. "But if you really want to see the world, Beleth,
you can always--"
Whatever he was about to say was completely lost, because suddenly she was
kissing him, and he had absolutely no idea what to do with it. Mostly out
of politeness, he pressed back, but it was chaste, and awkward, and he had
absolutely no idea what she was thinking.
She wasn't sure what she expected. Well, she did have an idea of what she expected, those days when she'd watched Pel and Gavin stare at each other like nothing else existed. When they had kissed, and Beleth had felt jealousy stir in her. But awkward teenage jealousy, whether it was out of feelings for Gavin, or simply wanting anything Pel had, faded.
That became blindingly apparent as their lips parted, and Beleth felt...nothing. She could have been kissing one of the halla on the forehead. Kissing her brother on the cheek. She looked confused as she pulled away from Gavin, glancing off to the side as she mulled over this puzzle.
Gavin couldn't help it - he laughed, bemused and helplessly.
"Was that supposed to accomplish something?" He teased quietly, knocking
his shoulder against hers. It had distracted him from the self pity for a
moment, at least, and the earnest confusion on her face was incredibly
endearing. He reached over and ruffled a hand through her hair.
Dagna was in the Undercraft, as always. It was something of a home away from home for her, disregarding the fact that she didn't really have a primary home to be away from. And the fact that she was paid to be there, which wasn't a typical attribute of any kind of home. Details, details.
So far, the day had been somewhat lowkey. Not a single explosion! Instead of working with lyrium, or runes, or any kind of magical theory, Dagna was experimenting with something simple: attempting to strengthen dawnstone. At one point, she had tried a concoction that backfired and disintegrated part of a table-- but disintegrating was totally different from exploding. Not exactly safer, but less singed eyebrows!
Beleth often visited the Undercroft, for a variety of reasons. Occasionally, it was to make a run, or a new bow. Sometimes, it was to request new armor. More than a few times, she'd appeared to rearrange the decorations of Skyhold, much to the chagrin of both Josephine and Vivienne. Beleth tried to keep both women on her side, but that wouldn't stop her from decking out her castle with the Dalish insignia everywhere she could fly it. And quite frankly, if she wanted an Avvar bed, that was no business but her own.
But even so, she knew that a leader who ignored her followers was a poor leader indeed, and she would always stop to greet both dwarf and man who toiled there for her. Today, with Dagna bent over what appeared to be a table sporting a new hole, she decided to prioritize talking to her over whatever else plans she might have had.
"Are you...alright?" She asked cautiously, peering at the table, with the type of alarm one might normally hold for a powder keg with a flame encroaching on it.
"I thought that it would--I don't know. Be different." It was a difficult thing to try to express, doubly so when Gavin started messing with her hair. She responded with a huff, raising her hands to swat at him. There was no vitriol, though, and she seemed to be trying to hide a smile, even the failure of...whatever that was supposed to be was irking.
"Ugh. You're impossible, you know that? Just--Don't tell anybody I did that. Or at least that it was amazing." She wrinkled her nose at him.
There is probably something questionable about Beleth summoning Varric to her office with intentions that are not strictly professional. But it’s convenient, and an easy way to get someone as popular as Varric alone. At least she does have some business she brings up to him, consultations regarding his knowledge of the various movers and shakers of Kirkwall.
Once they’ve concluded their discussion, Beleth rises from her desk, moving over to the chair next to Varric’s. Okay, hopefully, this won’t be quite the disaster that was the last time she attempted to make a move on someone. She’ll settle for him not laughing his way out of the room.
“Won’t you stay a little longer? I have wine, or tea, if you’d prefer.”
"Sure, I'm always alright with wine," Varric replies easily. It's not unusual for people to want to chat with him after concluding business, and Beleth was a friendly sort. He grins amicably and kicks back in his chair as she offers the invite and doesn't think much of it.
At his acceptance, Beleth went ahead and fetched the glasses and wine, returning to pour them both a cup. “Nothing very interesting, unfortunately. Things are so quiet in the winter, I think everyone is just hibernating until it gets warmer—Are you managing to stay warm, Varric? You can always ask me, if you ever need a hand.” She shoots him a smile, as she hands over the glass. Was that a clear enough suggestion...? No, probably not.
“It’s the least I can do for you, after all. You’ve been such a great help to me, and...” Okay, here it goes. Try not to look like a total idiot. She reaches over, lightly resting her fingers on his arm. “...I’m incredibly grateful to you for everything you’ve done.” Nailed it. Probably. Maybe?
Had Beleth been literally anyone else, any of Varric's other friends, he would not have read into that gesture. As it was, she was a bard and trained under Leliana. She knew exactly what she was doing...even if she seemed a little uneasy about it--shit, she was being earnest. Varric was flattered, almost instantly, and regarded the hand on his arm with a look of mild surprise.
"Well, I'm always available if you need a hand," Varric replied back and settled his gloved hand atop hers on his arm. Beleth was a little more bold, in general, than most of the women who flirted with Varric. He opted for a more tailored approach. "Or just a few fingers maybe?"
If he'd been drinking wine, he probably would have spat some of it out at that suggestion and his roguish grin nearly cracked as he chuckled.
"Shit you can't just go surprise flirting with me, Beleth, that's no fair. I haven't even been lulled into an easy stupor by the wine.
Sylaise grant her strength. Beleth can follow the script she’s made for herself, that she spent careful time thinking over, but then Varric just goes and throws her for a loop, which her script doesn’t quite make it through. For a moment, she looks genuinely surprised that Varric is actually flirting back, and then she can feel her face heating up, and she presses a hand over her mouth, glancing away to compose herself.
Cool, cool. Smooth.
“I thought about waiting until we had more wine, but I didn’t want you to feel like I was trying to do something unscrupulous. Like trying to push myself on you after you were intoxicated, or—I’m rambling.” She needs a word limit. Or at least a moment to stop looking and sounding like an idiot. Come on. She’s a bard. She can do this.
“But—no. I’m not messing with you. I wouldn’t do that to you.” She turns her hand to grip his, giving him a warm smile. “I think you’re one of the most interesting, funny, and kind-hearted men I know. I’m sure you hear plenty of compliments, but. I’m serious. I think you’re amazing.”
Varric actually lets out a snort and a laugh at that, but he doesn't seem even remotely put out. It's adorable, how she keeps falling back into the eye-contact, self-assured voice, tentative glances bard training of hers. She's working off a set series of steps and Varric can see through it as plain as day. It was cute that she was trying to dupe a writer with a script and he found himself all the more flattered for the attempt.
"You are priceless, kid," Varric compliments and pats her on the cheek. Perhaps the wrong message. Shit. He grimaces at himself after a beat and, in a strange move, tugs off his fine lambskin gloves. His hands are normal, really hand-like, and have a few callouses and ink-stains, but they are a lot warmer than his gloves when he takes her hand again.
"What kind of crazy asshole would I be if I turned down a cute Dalish woman who was flirting with me over wine? You do know I have a thing for ladies that can kill me, right? And you definitely qualify."
He leans back in his chair, his expression speculative, and quirks a brow at Beleth.
"But I'm also shit at this sort of thing. I can't even write romance. Are you sure you want to go there with me? You can seriously do better."
The cheek patting, ‘kid’ thing is an entirely wrong message, and if it had been anyone else, she might have started in on the dangers of being condescending to people who had multiple assassins on their payroll. As it stands, Beleth’s eyebrows furrow, but gradually smooth out as he continues. And his hands. She takes one of them in her own, fingers running over his skin, studying it with the quiet intensity of someone regarding an instrument—which they are, aren’t they? Hands that have crafted powerful, moving stories.
“I would never try to kill you, Varric.” She assures him, eyes still on his hands. “I have at least two books I’m still waiting on sequels for.” Pause. “That was a joke.” Just in case he was worried that the sole reason she hasn’t murdered him yet is because she needs to find out the ending to Swords & Shields.
She does, however, quirk an eyebrow at him, looking surprised. “...Why do you think I could do better? I’m not that great. And I’m clearly terrible at this, as well.” Romance? Is that what this was? If it was, at the very least, she’d managed not to fret over it for six months. After a moment of thought, she pulls his hand to her lips, pressing light kisses to his fingers. “But I don’t want to do better than you. Or worse than you. I want you.”
He chuckles at the joke, even as she points out that it is one, and lets her turn his hands over as she likes. When she tarts kissing his fingers, his brows lift, but he makes exactly no move to pull away. She wants him and, for a moment, he's not entirely sure what to say--nobody ever wants him. But...what did Beleth have to gain by lying about it?
He looks a little starstruck as he watches her and there's only a quick pause, about the span of a thudding heartbeat, before he reaches his free hand up and smooths his thumb across her cheek. His smile is less roguish than stupid as he leans in and presses his lips to hers. It's probably a shit idea, she's one of his best friends these days, but Varric is nothing but a connoisseur of shit ideas.
Beleth is no stranger to terrible ideas herself, and she's acutely aware of the various terrible ways that this could go wrong. But it is extraordinarily hard to recall them, or particularly care, when Varric is looking at her like that, and touching her so softly. And then he kisses her, and all the worries crowding her head go silent all at once. This may be a shitty idea, but it certainly feels good.
The kiss is returned with enthusiasm, as Beleth tries not to grin like an idiot into it. Play it cool, bard. You're supposed to be super smooth. Or at least try to act like it.
She pulls just slightly away from him, and softly bumps her forehead to his. "I should be the one telling you that you can do better, you know. You're taking all my lines." While she speaks, her free hand idly rests on his shoulder, then begins to drift down towards his chest. Because you can only have so much willpower when it comes to certain things, particularly when the other person likes flaunting it so much.
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emamusebox2015-05-29 08:26 pm
no subject
If he'd had brothers or sisters, perhaps that would have done - but save the general familial ties of his clan, Gavin had no family.
Which is probably why he was coming to bother Beleth, when he arrived back, rather than visit anyone else.
"Brought you something," He said as he ducked down beside her. He always tried to bring souvenirs back from his wanderings - it tended to lessen the yelling.
no subject
What she wanted or didn't want rarely factored into these things.
Maybe that's why she got along so well with Gavin. She envied him, in a way. She could never imagine just taking off like he did, wandering in and out of the clan like a half-feral cat. She was curious about the world outside of the clan, but she was more worried about how the clan would perceive her doing that. If they would talk about her like they spoke about Gavin.
When he does show up, though, he's greeted with an enthusiastic grin. "You're back! I was so worried, Gavin, would it kill you to send a note back once in a while? Let us know you haven't ended up dead in a ditch?" She didn't bother to tell him that the Keeper wasn't pleased, that there was yet more murmuring about him, because he probably already knew that. Instead, she clucks at him like a mother hen, reaching up to take his shoulder, and carefully inspect his face for signs of any hardship. "Are you hungry? I can sneak you a meal, if you want. But tell me--Where did you go?"
And, of course, what did he get her, but Beleth would never be rude enough to demand a gift.
no subject
He opened up his pack, rummaging through it. "Oh, here and there. Kirkwall, first, though it seemed like a bit of a mess was brewing, so I turned around and went to Starkhaven instead - you should have seen the dwarves I met! I tried to take a ship to Ferelden - I know, I know, it's too far, but I thought it would be interesting anyway - but of course then I went and got sea sick. About that time I ran out of anything worth trading, so home sounded the best bet. Aha!" He paused as he fished out something wrapped up tightly in a cloth. When he unwrapped it, a delicate, silver woven mask was revealed. It should have been Orlesian, but there was something strange about it. Heavier looking than it should be.
"Here," He said, handing it to her. "Dwarven, if you would believe it. I traded it for a ram I was getting ready to roast, to some very hungry actors."
no subject
"Kirkwall--Gavin, that place is a hornet's nest! I can't believe you went there, you're lucky the templars didn't just kill you on the off chance you might be an apostate! And--Ferelden, really?" She frowned at that, fussing turning into genuine concern. He'd been gone two months--If he'd managed to get to Ferelden, it could have been well over a year. "Gavin, that really is too far." Her voice was reproachful, sighing even as she reached to take his present. "I know you wander, but Ferelden is..."
Her words drifted off, never to be finished as he unwraps the gift. Instead, disapproval turned into surprise, to see something so fine, so beautiful. She took it with careful hands, afraid that her rough fingers could ruin something so fine. "Oh, Gavin. This is beautiful. Are you sure I can have it?" She wasn't sure what she would do with such a thing, for she was no actor. But it was a rare thing for her, to possess something that had no purpose but to be beautiful. "You're too kind."
no subject
He grinned as she took the present.
"Of course you can have it. I don't think it would suit me very well, or your mother, and I can't let it go to waste." Despite the flippancy, he was obviously very pleased that she was pleased with it. He leaned back, taking a deep breath, looking up through the light filtering past the foliage of the trees above.
"And yes, I know it's far. I'd go farther, if I could. Orlais, maybe, or the wastes beyond. But I admit that it's hard to get very far on my own."
no subject
When she does speak, her words are quiet, thoughtful. "That's why the Dalish live in clans, Gavin." Though her face remained towards the mask, she glanced up at him reproachfully. "We work better together. Our loyalty to each other makes us stand out from those flat ears in the villages, who forget their roots and forget each other." Her eyes flick back down to the mask, lips pressed in a thin line. She doesn't want to say anything mean, she doesn't want Gavin to get upset with her. If he gets upset at her, what if he takes even longer to come back? What if he really disappears for good?
"I won't lie, sometimes I wonder..." Her fingers went over the golden filigree. Imagining it being worn, imagining the kind of plays you would watch with someone wearing this. "But we can't always just do whatever strikes our fancy. Life isn't like that."
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He turned his head, looking off into the distance.
"It would be different, I think, If I were like you, Beleth. Or like Pel. Or any of the others, really. But I just... I tend to make things worse." He laughed, at that, but the laugh was a little forced. "And despite what the Keeper says, we can't just keep to ourselves forever. We can't just keep to this place forever!"
He turned his head back to look at her, tilting it with a sad smile on his lips. "There's so much out there. But I don't want you to think that means I don't care about you."
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When he found her he came up behind her and poked her very lightly in the side. "Beleth, just the one I wanted to see. I heard your last trade was with a couple of human warriors and I need to hear every little detail."
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"We won't stay here forever, Gavin." She told him, voice still quiet. "Some day, Arlathan will be re-established. And when that day comes, we'll be able to stay there, and remember the old ways." Though it sounded good, it was an empty reassurance, as Beleth well knew, for who could tell when that day would finally arrive? Still, the portents were getting good: Orlais crumbling in civil war, Ferelden crumbling in civil war. Maybe if they both fell, things could begin to align. "Besides, we move around a lot already, don't we?"
But, she thinks, face solemn, turned away. That's exactly what he means, when he leaves. Maybe not that he doesn't care, but he just doesn't care enough. He doesn't care enough to try to settle down, to try to stay with them. He cares more for his roving than he does about them, and that is what it says, as clear as day, and that is what the other Dalish hear.
But she doesn't say that.
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She turned to Cyril when she was prodded, curious, though the expression quickly turned to resignation. Of course he came over to discuss the shemlen. "There are few details to give you, Cyril. They were humans. They were loud and rude and tried to rip me off. And I'm sure that when I left, they were murmuring to each other about that uppity knife-eared bitch trying to take advantage of them."
She paused, sighing, because she knew Cyril meant well enough. Even if she wished that he would be a little less obsessed with the humans. "They were attractive enough, as far as humans go, I suppose. They traded me swords and shields for pelts."
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"I know, Beleth," He murmured. "I did try. But Arlathan..." His voice trailed off, thoughtfully, and he looked down at the ground, picking up a stick to fiddle with so that his hands had something to do while he tried to figure out what to say.
"It isn't enough, what we do. How could we ever bring back anything without learning as much as we can? Thedas... this world is so big, Beleth. It's bigger than anyone can possibly fit into their heads. There's more out there than we ever see, from our Aravels. And I know I'm supposed to - I know I'm supposed to make myself fit. Take the shape that works best for me, for the clan. Creators, but I know that. But every time I try to force myself into a shape, a limb sticks out."
He poked the stick into the ground, tracing aimless patterns in the dirt.
"I know it doesn't make sense. I'm sorry."
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"Though right now I think you're more in need of some fun to counter that frustration. Do you think you can slip away for a bit?"
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But more importantly, she's upset him. She was too rude, she said too much. She frowns, pressing her lips in a thin line, as if that would keep the words that hurt him from spilling out. But it was too late for that, wasn't it? Ugh.
"Gavin..." She sighed, and moved next to him, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Everyone has a purpose, that's what the Keeper always says. You just haven't found yours yet. And it's okay if it takes a bit...! And it's alright to doubt yourself. I mean, Creators know I do it enough." She gave a dry little laugh, glancing aside. "Doubting myself, I mean. I don't doubt you, Gavin. You've got a lot of talents." She hesitated, glancing back up to him for a moment.
"And sometimes I envy you. Seeing so much of the world, and seeing all those people." It was a quiet admittance, glancing down at her hands. She stays quiet for another few breaths, then seems to make a decision, and moves suddenly. Her hands rest on his shoulders, and she leans forward, pressing her lips against his.
Maybe...This would help?
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She hesitated when Cy asked his question, slowly turning to look at him with knit brows. She knows Cyril, and she knows his methods, and she also knows that as far as she knows, he's only ever shown interest in men. And she's pretty sure that she's not the exception.
But it's pretty damn rude to accuse someone of something like that, so instead she just nods, though there's a perplexed look on her face. "Sure. No one will miss me for a little bit."
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It wasn't too far from camp, but once they found it it was a nice, cool, clear pool of water. Perfect for gathering water or for bathing. The water wasn't too cold or too warm. It was serene and beautiful.
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"I think I'm a little past 'a little bit'," He murmured wryly, offering her a small lopsided smile. "But if you really want to see the world, Beleth, you can always--"
Whatever he was about to say was completely lost, because suddenly she was kissing him, and he had absolutely no idea what to do with it. Mostly out of politeness, he pressed back, but it was chaste, and awkward, and he had absolutely no idea what she was thinking.
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That became blindingly apparent as their lips parted, and Beleth felt...nothing. She could have been kissing one of the halla on the forehead. Kissing her brother on the cheek. She looked confused as she pulled away from Gavin, glancing off to the side as she mulled over this puzzle.
"...Well, that didn't work."
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Gavin couldn't help it - he laughed, bemused and helplessly.
"Was that supposed to accomplish something?" He teased quietly, knocking his shoulder against hers. It had distracted him from the self pity for a moment, at least, and the earnest confusion on her face was incredibly endearing. He reached over and ruffled a hand through her hair.
"Thanks, Beleth."
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So far, the day had been somewhat lowkey. Not a single explosion! Instead of working with lyrium, or runes, or any kind of magical theory, Dagna was experimenting with something simple: attempting to strengthen dawnstone. At one point, she had tried a concoction that backfired and disintegrated part of a table-- but disintegrating was totally different from exploding. Not exactly safer, but less singed eyebrows!
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But even so, she knew that a leader who ignored her followers was a poor leader indeed, and she would always stop to greet both dwarf and man who toiled there for her. Today, with Dagna bent over what appeared to be a table sporting a new hole, she decided to prioritize talking to her over whatever else plans she might have had.
"Are you...alright?" She asked cautiously, peering at the table, with the type of alarm one might normally hold for a powder keg with a flame encroaching on it.
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"Ugh. You're impossible, you know that? Just--Don't tell anybody I did that. Or at least that it was amazing." She wrinkled her nose at him.
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He chuckled when she swatted at him, and pulled his hand back.
"Your secret is safe with me," he said, solemnly holding his hand over his heart. Or, well, as solemnly as one could manage while grinning.
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Once they’ve concluded their discussion, Beleth rises from her desk, moving over to the chair next to Varric’s. Okay, hopefully, this won’t be quite the disaster that was the last time she attempted to make a move on someone. She’ll settle for him not laughing his way out of the room.
“Won’t you stay a little longer? I have wine, or tea, if you’d prefer.”
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"Got some juicy new gossip you want to share?"
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“It’s the least I can do for you, after all. You’ve been such a great help to me, and...” Okay, here it goes. Try not to look like a total idiot. She reaches over, lightly resting her fingers on his arm. “...I’m incredibly grateful to you for everything you’ve done.” Nailed it. Probably. Maybe?
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"Well, I'm always available if you need a hand," Varric replied back and settled his gloved hand atop hers on his arm. Beleth was a little more bold, in general, than most of the women who flirted with Varric. He opted for a more tailored approach. "Or just a few fingers maybe?"
If he'd been drinking wine, he probably would have spat some of it out at that suggestion and his roguish grin nearly cracked as he chuckled.
"Shit you can't just go surprise flirting with me, Beleth, that's no fair. I haven't even been lulled into an easy stupor by the wine.
"You're not messing with me, right?"
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Cool, cool. Smooth.
“I thought about waiting until we had more wine, but I didn’t want you to feel like I was trying to do something unscrupulous. Like trying to push myself on you after you were intoxicated, or—I’m rambling.” She needs a word limit. Or at least a moment to stop looking and sounding like an idiot. Come on. She’s a bard. She can do this.
“But—no. I’m not messing with you. I wouldn’t do that to you.” She turns her hand to grip his, giving him a warm smile. “I think you’re one of the most interesting, funny, and kind-hearted men I know. I’m sure you hear plenty of compliments, but. I’m serious. I think you’re amazing.”
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"You are priceless, kid," Varric compliments and pats her on the cheek. Perhaps the wrong message. Shit. He grimaces at himself after a beat and, in a strange move, tugs off his fine lambskin gloves. His hands are normal, really hand-like, and have a few callouses and ink-stains, but they are a lot warmer than his gloves when he takes her hand again.
"What kind of crazy asshole would I be if I turned down a cute Dalish woman who was flirting with me over wine? You do know I have a thing for ladies that can kill me, right? And you definitely qualify."
He leans back in his chair, his expression speculative, and quirks a brow at Beleth.
"But I'm also shit at this sort of thing. I can't even write romance. Are you sure you want to go there with me? You can seriously do better."
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“I would never try to kill you, Varric.” She assures him, eyes still on his hands. “I have at least two books I’m still waiting on sequels for.” Pause. “That was a joke.” Just in case he was worried that the sole reason she hasn’t murdered him yet is because she needs to find out the ending to Swords & Shields.
She does, however, quirk an eyebrow at him, looking surprised. “...Why do you think I could do better? I’m not that great. And I’m clearly terrible at this, as well.” Romance? Is that what this was? If it was, at the very least, she’d managed not to fret over it for six months. After a moment of thought, she pulls his hand to her lips, pressing light kisses to his fingers. “But I don’t want to do better than you. Or worse than you. I want you.”
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He looks a little starstruck as he watches her and there's only a quick pause, about the span of a thudding heartbeat, before he reaches his free hand up and smooths his thumb across her cheek. His smile is less roguish than stupid as he leans in and presses his lips to hers. It's probably a shit idea, she's one of his best friends these days, but Varric is nothing but a connoisseur of shit ideas.
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The kiss is returned with enthusiasm, as Beleth tries not to grin like an idiot into it. Play it cool, bard. You're supposed to be super smooth. Or at least try to act like it.
She pulls just slightly away from him, and softly bumps her forehead to his. "I should be the one telling you that you can do better, you know. You're taking all my lines." While she speaks, her free hand idly rests on his shoulder, then begins to drift down towards his chest. Because you can only have so much willpower when it comes to certain things, particularly when the other person likes flaunting it so much.