because I promised this would happen birdhousesoulDecember 18 2011, 14:55:18 UTC
((note to non-Dragon-Age-conversant players who may find the following to be weird: There is this fanon thing, based on some banter between Sigrun and Anders in Awakening, where Anders threatens to do ... a dance ... called ... Anders' Spicy Shimmy. This remark could easily be interpreted as less than literal, but he also seems to have spent some time in various leisurely pursuits at the Denerim Pearl and elsewhere, so ... anyway, it's become a fanon thing that Anders can actually do this dance, that it is real, and that it is somehow not completely hilarious. Here is the best fic I have found that demonstrates this fanon factoid.))Once the initial surprise wears off, Anders decides this bar is one of the best bars he's ever visited, anywhere. It's a pity that there are other stationfolk here so he can't use his Sebastian alias, otherwise he could think of several amusing things for Sebastian to do here. Hawke became No Fun for no reason Anders could discern very shortly before they left the bar prior, so he knows that if he does
( ... )
you make her life so hard, Anderstry_winging_itDecember 18 2011, 18:40:44 UTC
It's automatic for Hawke to keep an eye on Anders. She doesn't even realize she does it, some of the time. If the two of them are in a room, chances are she's vaguely facing him even if he's on the other side of it and each of them is busy doing something entirely unrelated. So when he leaves to go look at other parts of the party, she's aware, even if she doesn't follow, being content to sit and enjoy the conversation at the table. (She'd deny the No Fun; all right, she was feeling glum for a while earlier, frustration at your never to be resolved or straightforward ever lovelife will do that, but company and decent alcohol are proving a good cure
( ... )
at least it's not a Cossack dancebirdhousesoulDecember 18 2011, 19:21:50 UTC
The dance does have a proper name of its own. It's Rivaini in origin, like so many other interesting things in life. Anders just prefers to give everything new and silly names, to make them more special, or less serious. (The silly names can become serious. He did not appreciate Merrill's nagging questions as to how Ser Pounce-a-lot got knighted.) He likes things to be particular to him. He also likes to make people laugh - or wince. Wincing is almost as good, sometimes even better
( ... )
thread of lemonade and Tevinter mage robes?birdhousesoulDecember 18 2011, 21:11:17 UTC
((This thread is for Sheeana, to distinguish it from whatever threading Hawke and Sheeana may do above, since Hawke and Anders are no longer in the same thread))
Sheeana arrived just in time to see a man do an absolutely wonderful dance that reminded her so strongly of siaynoq. She pushed through the crowd (not quite noticing Hawke yet) and faced him.
"That was exquisite, sir. Can you show me how to do it?"
The woman addressing him isn't togged out as one of the performers, nor dressed in the characteristic manner of the Revolutionary Guards. In fact, she'd fit right in at the Pearl, looks classically Rivaini in the best possible interpretation of the term, except for the glowing blue-in-blue eyes.
Blue glowing eyes normally mean trouble, but Anders can't sense anything of the Fade about her. For all he knows, they're some kind of cosmetic thing; he can't imagine how that would work, but certainly some of the performers and even some of the clubgoers here have their own little enhancements that Anders couldn't replicate either.
His own glow is from exertion, a healthy sheen, nothing blue or Fade-induced about it. Thanks to the ventilation of these even-more-holey-than-Tevinter-style robes, he's cooling off to a comfortable temperature, so he's not dripping or anything.
"Glad you approve," he says cheerily. "Haven't done that in a while. And I've never been ser anything. You can call me Anders. No," he reconsiders, "you can
( ... )
It's a good thing he's not dripping actually, because she would just scoff at his waste of water. She observes the flush of his skin, the darkening around his nipples Frank Herbert totally wrote that, OK?. She approves.
"Perhaps I will, Cernunos. Oh, don't worry, it's a good name, an ancient god of the hunt and wild dancing." She didn't quite get the irony of calling a committed enemy of the Fay'lia that yet. "Like this?" She does a near perfect imitation of the first move in the sequence. Near perfect.
Nicknames already? They must be off to a good start. This one's more resonant than the usual Blondie but Anders won't object. (A pity he hasn't got the cultural referent to appreciate he's just been called Lord of the Dance).
He whistles slowly at her approximation of the movement. "You've watched that once and you've got it down that well, you're beyond my ability to teach. Although, hm - may I?" He raises an eyebrow, asking permission, and receives no objection. "A little subtler, with the hip movement when you step forward, like this." His hand on her hip, he directs her through the movement again, keeping the circle from veering quite as wide. "Perfect. You ought to be teaching me. And you haven't told me what I ought to call you."
She doesn't mind the touch. By Bene Gesserit standards, she's a fairly touchy person, and Anders is pleasing to more than one sense. Besides as it says in the handle dancing is a part of her. It's as necessary to her psychic health as dreaming.
"Like this?" Trying again with his revisions. "And this?" The next part.
"Almost. Unbelievably close, I'd say." This is not flattery. She really is so good at it, picking it up so ridiculously quickly after seeing it once, that Anders rather suspects she must have danced a similar dance plenty of times before. Why she's bothering to 'learn' from him, he couldn't possibly imagine. Something's off.
(Anders, meet the Bene Gesserit, post-God-Emperor, pedigree straight out of Leto's breeding program. Prana-bindu muscular control, much? Insane speed and agility? The closest thing Anders has ever seen is a well-cast Haste spell. There's no way he can begin to comprehend what he's really seeing here, not without a detailed lecture and possibly some diagrams.)
Nor is he deluded enough to believe a woman this attractive would pretend not to know a dance she already knows quite well, just to get closer to Anders. He's not the sweet young thing he was in his Circle days. More like an ... early-middle-aged thing? Oh, he won't downplay his obvious charms, but he's realistic. She could do as well or
( ... )
Sheeana certainly doesn't mind looking at Anders. His is a body well formed for fighting but not some painted, strutting gladiator. She admires its obvious utility the way one admires a crysknife: it's something that does one thing extremely well. That it can do more than that is a bonus.
But mostly, she just likes dancing, and learning a new one is worth it enough for her. And seeing someone perform a so Siaynoq-esque dance has made her a little homesick. That also makes her more inclined to seek company, to keep it at bay.
"I'm Sheeana." She says, imitating the third step in slow motion. "This reminds me of the dances of my homeworld." Don't let that fool you, Anders. Rakis isn't a very sexy place ever since the Sietch Orgy went out of fashion.
Rakis? Unsexy? But all those phallic sandworms, with their tooth-studded gaping holes for mouths! It's sexy in the most frightfully Freudian way. To say nothing of the acrid allure of eau de stillsuit. Rakis: It's For Lovers.
Anders should never, ever learn so much about Rakis. He already has screaming nightmares about the Deep Roads, no need for new nightmare fuel. And he would make jokes. You don't make jokes about the destruction of someone's village and the demise of their family in the gut of a giant sandworm unless you are Anders.Sheeana's revelation makes him chuckle. "Aha! I did think you must've done this before." Her motivation's as good as solved for him, then. Anders is the man who, through all sorts of escapes and dire straits and sudden desperate flights, insisted on carrying with him the tiny embroidered pillow his mother made for him as a child. (He didn't get to bring the pillow that time he swam the lake to escape. Even the tiniest pillow - well. But the Templars brought him back again, to his beloved
( ... )
Hawke, having managed to set aside her wrestling with temptation with the help of something tall, dark, and full-bodied (and made of alcohol), wanders back through the bar. And catches sight of Anders, with his hands on the waist of someone tall, dark, and full-bodied (and definitely not made of alcohol).
There's an instant of fury. Whether it's towards the owner of the hands or the waist is hard to say.
But the instant vanishes once she identifies the owner of the waist.
Oh. Oh, this should be...interesting. Interesting is a nice, vague term for what this will probably be, given all the potential for awkward and bizarre in this meeting. Be careful what you wish for, isn't that the saying? She was just wishing Sheeana were here to provide a distraction.
Hawke's grin is positively wicked as she moves through the crowd towards them, because awkward and bizarre or not, she's very curious as to what will happen. "Don't tell me you need lessons, blue-eyes. I've seen you dance. Anders, I see you've met Sheeana." Her tone is amused
( ... )
When Anders notices Hawke, it's by voice. His hands are now on Sheeana's hips again, he's standing behind her, and he's looking down at the position of her right foot on the floor.
It wouldn't take Bene Gesserit perception to detect the tension that tightens his fingers, his arms, by extension the rest of him, at the moment he registers that voice. It's just a moment, and then he relaxes a little (well? I'm not doing anything wrong), and looks up, lets his hands fall away from his dancing student/partner. Blue-eyes, is it? They know one another. Huh.
He stays where he is, though, behind Sheeana. "Yes, you see we've met," he agrees. "And you both know my name is Anders." Not Sebastian. Hawke, you should know better than to call him one name before you find out whether he's using the other! "And her eyes are very blue. You both have blue eyes. I'm the odd one out, then. Blue eyes, beauty, wit, grace, charm, fashion sense. It makes sense you're acquainted."
Sheeana pops back into place from a particularly difficult looking step. Yes, Anders. Continue to stroke her ego. It will distract her from how potentially awkward this could be.
Don't mention your shared alias-game though. Elsewise one Lady Bellonda will start getting into all sorts of depravity.
"You have good taste though." She said to Anders then looked over at Hawke. "As pretty a bird as ever I see. To tell the truth, it reminded me of the Siaynoq dancers back on my home planet." She gives Hawke a long once over. Gods below but i'm racking them up tonight. And they know each other? Well. This is going to be interesting.
"Her eyes are bluer than mine," Hawke says with surprising cheerfulness as she joins them; she's always thrived on problematic situations, it's a terrible habit and not at all part of what's always attracted her to Anders, no no. "Must disagree on the fashion sense though, I haven't got any of that." Which is true. She dresses for practicality rather than effect, even if she is showing more cleavage than usual today; that was for the espionage work earlier, so it counts as business rather than fashion sense.
"Besides, you have a number of those other qualities yourself, as I've frequently heard you boast, so stop pretending to feel out of your class. If anything, I am; I can't dance. Not much, at least, certainly nothing like either of you can. And yes, we're acquainted, Sheeana is from the station also." Which is why she called you Anders, Anders. Aliases don't apply for stationers. Station-siders? What's the word for residents of a space station? Blasted Void vocabulary, she'll never get the hang of it. "I didn't know you were
( ... )
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"That was exquisite, sir. Can you show me how to do it?"
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Blue glowing eyes normally mean trouble, but Anders can't sense anything of the Fade about her. For all he knows, they're some kind of cosmetic thing; he can't imagine how that would work, but certainly some of the performers and even some of the clubgoers here have their own little enhancements that Anders couldn't replicate either.
His own glow is from exertion, a healthy sheen, nothing blue or Fade-induced about it. Thanks to the ventilation of these even-more-holey-than-Tevinter-style robes, he's cooling off to a comfortable temperature, so he's not dripping or anything.
"Glad you approve," he says cheerily. "Haven't done that in a while. And I've never been ser anything. You can call me Anders. No," he reconsiders, "you can ( ... )
Reply
"Perhaps I will, Cernunos. Oh, don't worry, it's a good name, an ancient god of the hunt and wild dancing." She didn't quite get the irony of calling a committed enemy of the Fay'lia that yet. "Like this?" She does a near perfect imitation of the first move in the sequence. Near perfect.
Reply
He whistles slowly at her approximation of the movement. "You've watched that once and you've got it down that well, you're beyond my ability to teach. Although, hm - may I?" He raises an eyebrow, asking permission, and receives no objection. "A little subtler, with the hip movement when you step forward, like this." His hand on her hip, he directs her through the movement again, keeping the circle from veering quite as wide. "Perfect. You ought to be teaching me. And you haven't told me what I ought to call you."
Reply
"Like this?" Trying again with his revisions. "And this?" The next part.
Reply
(Anders, meet the Bene Gesserit, post-God-Emperor, pedigree straight out of Leto's breeding program. Prana-bindu muscular control, much? Insane speed and agility? The closest thing Anders has ever seen is a well-cast Haste spell. There's no way he can begin to comprehend what he's really seeing here, not without a detailed lecture and possibly some diagrams.)
Nor is he deluded enough to believe a woman this attractive would pretend not to know a dance she already knows quite well, just to get closer to Anders. He's not the sweet young thing he was in his Circle days. More like an ... early-middle-aged thing? Oh, he won't downplay his obvious charms, but he's realistic. She could do as well or ( ... )
Reply
But mostly, she just likes dancing, and learning a new one is worth it enough for her. And seeing someone perform a so Siaynoq-esque dance has made her a little homesick. That also makes her more inclined to seek company, to keep it at bay.
"I'm Sheeana." She says, imitating the third step in slow motion. "This reminds me of the dances of my homeworld." Don't let that fool you, Anders. Rakis isn't a very sexy place ever since the Sietch Orgy went out of fashion.
Reply
Anders should never, ever learn so much about Rakis. He already has screaming nightmares about the Deep Roads, no need for new nightmare fuel. And he would make jokes. You don't make jokes about the destruction of someone's village and the demise of their family in the gut of a giant sandworm unless you are Anders.Sheeana's revelation makes him chuckle. "Aha! I did think you must've done this before." Her motivation's as good as solved for him, then. Anders is the man who, through all sorts of escapes and dire straits and sudden desperate flights, insisted on carrying with him the tiny embroidered pillow his mother made for him as a child. (He didn't get to bring the pillow that time he swam the lake to escape. Even the tiniest pillow - well. But the Templars brought him back again, to his beloved ( ... )
Reply
There's an instant of fury. Whether it's towards the owner of the hands or the waist is hard to say.
But the instant vanishes once she identifies the owner of the waist.
Oh. Oh, this should be...interesting. Interesting is a nice, vague term for what this will probably be, given all the potential for awkward and bizarre in this meeting. Be careful what you wish for, isn't that the saying? She was just wishing Sheeana were here to provide a distraction.
Hawke's grin is positively wicked as she moves through the crowd towards them, because awkward and bizarre or not, she's very curious as to what will happen. "Don't tell me you need lessons, blue-eyes. I've seen you dance. Anders, I see you've met Sheeana." Her tone is amused ( ... )
Reply
It wouldn't take Bene Gesserit perception to detect the tension that tightens his fingers, his arms, by extension the rest of him, at the moment he registers that voice. It's just a moment, and then he relaxes a little (well? I'm not doing anything wrong), and looks up, lets his hands fall away from his dancing student/partner. Blue-eyes, is it? They know one another. Huh.
He stays where he is, though, behind Sheeana. "Yes, you see we've met," he agrees. "And you both know my name is Anders." Not Sebastian. Hawke, you should know better than to call him one name before you find out whether he's using the other! "And her eyes are very blue. You both have blue eyes. I'm the odd one out, then. Blue eyes, beauty, wit, grace, charm, fashion sense. It makes sense you're acquainted."
Reply
Don't mention your shared alias-game though. Elsewise one Lady Bellonda will start getting into all sorts of depravity.
"You have good taste though." She said to Anders then looked over at Hawke. "As pretty a bird as ever I see. To tell the truth, it reminded me of the Siaynoq dancers back on my home planet." She gives Hawke a long once over. Gods below but i'm racking them up tonight. And they know each other? Well. This is going to be interesting.
Reply
"Besides, you have a number of those other qualities yourself, as I've frequently heard you boast, so stop pretending to feel out of your class. If anything, I am; I can't dance. Not much, at least, certainly nothing like either of you can. And yes, we're acquainted, Sheeana is from the station also." Which is why she called you Anders, Anders. Aliases don't apply for stationers. Station-siders? What's the word for residents of a space station? Blasted Void vocabulary, she'll never get the hang of it. "I didn't know you were ( ... )
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