SANCTUM AND HEALING (46/?)
anonymous
December 4 2011, 22:11:22 UTC
Anders pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and his forefinger. Not enough elfroot scent remained on his fingertips from the last potion he’d used-an accidental skirmish in Kal’Hirol, one of those annoyances that almost seemed petty now-and all he could smell was bacon, his sweat, his skin.
If Varric was trying to remind him what true madness was, he’d succeeded. Well played, Anders thought, but both of them shared a look that seemed to imply they thought otherwise.
‘Take a seat, Blondie,’ Varric suggested. ‘You don’t look so good.’
‘It was all the bacon,’ Anders assured him, letting himself be ushered into a chair all the same. ‘You shouldn’t have let me eat so much, Varric-you know I have no sense of moderation.’
Varric whistled, once, sharp. ‘And how. But that’s beside the point right now. If you think I’m not still reeling from all this nug-shit, think again. It’s just that I’m closer to the ground-harder to see me spinning.’
Anders sank into the chair, rubbing his hands against the polished arms. Varric set Bianca aside-Anders’s eyes widened in alarm-along with his polishing kit, and pulled up a seat across the way, feet dangling over the rug, not quite skimming the ground. Anders almost laughed, then hiccupped instead, and that tasted of bacon, too.
‘So,’ Varric said. ‘Now that I believe you and you believe me-any questions?’
‘Just the usual.’ Anders pressed his fingertips into the wood beneath them until his knuckles turned white, then relaxed his grip. ‘Like…what has my life become, and why do these things always happen to me, and were we lovers, and if so how did that work?’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Varric asked.
‘No begging necessary,’ Anders replied. ‘It’s a simple enough set of questions. One, because I feel very unhappy all of a sudden; two, because it is incredible how often these things occur to me of all people, what with wardening and talking darkspawn and broodmothers and accidentally traveling through time; and three, because you said he-I-somebody gave you that pillow, and it means a lot to me, and I can’t believe I had feelings for a dwarf! Not that you aren’t handsome, Varric-but I always thought it might be a nice farmhand or a cheerful taproom girl or someone…taller. What did Bianca think about that, anyway? Did she try to smother me in the night? Maybe that’s why I’m-he’s-somebody’s not around anymore.’
‘If only it was that simple, Blondie.’ Varric glanced over his shoulder, almost wary of his beloved crossbow suddenly sprouting ears-and a brain to make sense of the things it heard. Anders envied her, her glossy shine, her devoted owner. He was also beginning to get the impression that, just as Keran could easily be the secret mastermind of the group, Varric could easily be the secret unstable person. He came across as friendly and put-together and then, when you least suspected it, you were being tied up and interrogated for looking the wrong way at his crossbow. It could happen. Stranger things had, in the past few days-and that didn’t even count Anders’s time with the wardens. ‘Sure, Bianca’s the possessive type, but I’m a one-woman dwarf. We were close, but you’re really not my type. Too high-maintenance. Too…heroic. No; I can’t tie myself down to the martyring kind. I’ve got a big heart, but it wouldn’t take much to put a crack in it, and then where would I be?’
‘Rejecting perfectly serviceable lovers for a projectile weapon?’ Anders said.
‘Shhh.’ Varric held a thick forefinger to his lips. ‘Bianca doesn’t like it when people refer to her projectiles. And between her and Hawke, I’d say we’re best off pretending like this conversation never happened.’
‘Hawke,’ Anders repeated. He felt as though he was looking at one of the Warden Commander’s maps, parts missing where his slobbering mabari warhound had torn huge chunks of the parchment free with his teeth, chewing them up to hide them in smallclothes drawers around the keep.
If Varric was trying to remind him what true madness was, he’d succeeded. Well played, Anders thought, but both of them shared a look that seemed to imply they thought otherwise.
‘Take a seat, Blondie,’ Varric suggested. ‘You don’t look so good.’
‘It was all the bacon,’ Anders assured him, letting himself be ushered into a chair all the same. ‘You shouldn’t have let me eat so much, Varric-you know I have no sense of moderation.’
Varric whistled, once, sharp. ‘And how. But that’s beside the point right now. If you think I’m not still reeling from all this nug-shit, think again. It’s just that I’m closer to the ground-harder to see me spinning.’
Anders sank into the chair, rubbing his hands against the polished arms. Varric set Bianca aside-Anders’s eyes widened in alarm-along with his polishing kit, and pulled up a seat across the way, feet dangling over the rug, not quite skimming the ground. Anders almost laughed, then hiccupped instead, and that tasted of bacon, too.
‘So,’ Varric said. ‘Now that I believe you and you believe me-any questions?’
‘Just the usual.’ Anders pressed his fingertips into the wood beneath them until his knuckles turned white, then relaxed his grip. ‘Like…what has my life become, and why do these things always happen to me, and were we lovers, and if so how did that work?’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Varric asked.
‘No begging necessary,’ Anders replied. ‘It’s a simple enough set of questions. One, because I feel very unhappy all of a sudden; two, because it is incredible how often these things occur to me of all people, what with wardening and talking darkspawn and broodmothers and accidentally traveling through time; and three, because you said he-I-somebody gave you that pillow, and it means a lot to me, and I can’t believe I had feelings for a dwarf! Not that you aren’t handsome, Varric-but I always thought it might be a nice farmhand or a cheerful taproom girl or someone…taller. What did Bianca think about that, anyway? Did she try to smother me in the night? Maybe that’s why I’m-he’s-somebody’s not around anymore.’
‘If only it was that simple, Blondie.’ Varric glanced over his shoulder, almost wary of his beloved crossbow suddenly sprouting ears-and a brain to make sense of the things it heard. Anders envied her, her glossy shine, her devoted owner. He was also beginning to get the impression that, just as Keran could easily be the secret mastermind of the group, Varric could easily be the secret unstable person. He came across as friendly and put-together and then, when you least suspected it, you were being tied up and interrogated for looking the wrong way at his crossbow. It could happen. Stranger things had, in the past few days-and that didn’t even count Anders’s time with the wardens. ‘Sure, Bianca’s the possessive type, but I’m a one-woman dwarf. We were close, but you’re really not my type. Too high-maintenance. Too…heroic. No; I can’t tie myself down to the martyring kind. I’ve got a big heart, but it wouldn’t take much to put a crack in it, and then where would I be?’
‘Rejecting perfectly serviceable lovers for a projectile weapon?’ Anders said.
‘Shhh.’ Varric held a thick forefinger to his lips. ‘Bianca doesn’t like it when people refer to her projectiles. And between her and Hawke, I’d say we’re best off pretending like this conversation never happened.’
‘Hawke,’ Anders repeated. He felt as though he was looking at one of the Warden Commander’s maps, parts missing where his slobbering mabari warhound had torn huge chunks of the parchment free with his teeth, chewing them up to hide them in smallclothes drawers around the keep.
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