While what Varric said made sense, and she appreciated the concern, she pouted all the same. “I am a big mage, dear husband. I can fasten my armor buckles and carry my staff allll on my own.” Her hand squeezed his. “Besides, it’s hard to fall for you when I never really recovered from tripping the first time.” Her grin widened teasingly. It was true though.
As for her dress. however. “Well I would just torture you with it now if it was in tatters. Torn at the seams, my chest heaving, perhaps a slit up my skirt.” She hoped she was painting a wonderful picture for him to imagine. He was the writer, but lately he had rubbed off on her in a few ways. When they had first met, he had started spinning stories about her, weaving tales where she was a hero and saved people. That person he talked about seemed so far removed from herself, a simple Lothering farm girl Ferelden refugee apostate. What did she have to give the world? But his stories made others believe these things about her. They would look at her in awe, ask her for help, and Maker she helped all of them. Every last one that came to her and a few that didn’t.
She had never really told him that those tales he spun about her had helped her see herself in a new light. That he told them with so much fervor and grandeur that she had started believing in herself through him. Eventually, it had led to her feelings for him.
She should tell him that someday.
“Oh the Inquisitor?” There was no other elf here that Kaitlyn knew of. “You’ve been feeding her stories about me, haven’t you? I hoped they involved a lot of dragons.” It always just seemed more exciting that way. And if she had to have tales spun about her, why not have them exciting? They could believe she was much more braver than she was.
The last comment made her grin deviously. “Oh, is that so?” She leaned down far enough to whisper near his ear, using the most seductive voice she could muster. “Nuuug humper.”
The glance Varric shot Kait expressed how, even though her words were laced with their usual snark, the dwarf could tell she meant them on a legitimately emotional level. The two were never quite the best at verbal exchanges of romantic words unless it was meant to be perceived as poking fun at one another. Because of this, Varric reveled in the moments when he could see through her jokes-- it was nice to be reminded that he was loved by her.
Before he could respond though, she had already begun painting what Varric saw as her magnum opus. “Blossom, keep that up and I don’t think I’ll last the whole night without requesting some privacy.” Duty be damned, he never got to see his wife, and she was purposefully creating images that would make even the most chaste man fawn over her. So, for Varric, this was just pure torture. He made a mental note to not give her any further pointers on the art of setting up a scene. Kait was dangerous as she was, she didn’t need control over his thoughts as well.
He heard his wife mention the Inquisitor and decided that the young elf would be a much safer topic for his own well being. “Yeah, that’s the one. Name’s Elisheva, she’s still not a huge fan of her title, remind you of anyone? And c’mon, Kait, you know me-- of course I brought up dragons. They’re the cornerstone to some of your more epic adventures. She wasn’t exactly taken in by that aspect as much as I thought she would be though, just seemed more interested in, well, you in general. Can’t say I blame her.” It was then that the dwarf felt a shiver down his spine. Kait had brought herself down to his level and was whispering, well, he wouldn’t call them sweet nothings, but it was sure as hell something that got to him. He opened his mouth to respond but, instead of his voice, he heard a familiar female one.
“It appears I’ve interrupted something rather intimate,” It was the Inquisitor herself, “and here I was under the impression that Varric hated nugs. I suppose you never really know a man until you... really know a man.” Elisheva’s wide grin gave away how little seriousness surrounded her words as she moved in front of the married couple. Her wide blue eyes were set on Kait like she was the most interesting person she’d ever laid eyes on. It wasn’t often one met a real life hero from a book. She extended a hand with not-so-subtle dramatic flair, a flick to her wrist, and bowed slightly in her own way of mocking the night. “You must be Kaitlyn. Varric’s told me all about you, well, in his own way. I figured I could get to know you from a more, let’s say, reliable source. I heard you’d be here tonight so, I thought to myself, ‘Elisheva, who better to ask than the champion herself?’ So, here we are-- and I’ve got questions.” The elf explained, not even trying to hide her enthusiasm.
“Maker’s breath, can’t this wait until later?” Varric suggested.
“The future is now, my friend, besides-- let’s leave it up to the lady if she’s open to a little, hm... girl talk.” Came Elisheva’s response. “What do you say, Kait?”
