ILIC ~ 24
It’s Lost Its Charm by MsMoon
Chapter 24 ~ Role Models: Shrews & Hutslayers
Chapters: 24/?
Chapter Navigation: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15,16, 17, 18,19,20, 21, 22, 23, 24,
Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age,
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Violence,
Relationships: I feel like it’s a little early for that…
Summary: As dreams went, she supposed being inside Dragon Age wasn’t too bad… At least she wasn’t the Herald (again). Or the Warden (again). Or Hawke (again).
Notes: *looks around* hey guys.
Life really kicked me in the teeth :| I started writing this ages ago, but...I don’t know, it just seems like everything was stacked against me. I’m ok, so don’t be concerned... 2016 has just sucked so much... There were projects, finals, health problems, traveling, and computer failures. That’s not even touching all these horrible deaths, either.
But, you live and learn , right? Let's just say, I'm now using my google drive to keep my writing all backed up, because my laptop is ready to fall apart and crawl away. Nearly losing all of one's writing is amazingly discouraging, so I'd encourage all of you to back up to google as well. I mean, it's free with a gmail, and google docs are easy to edit. But...you didn't come here for that =..=
So, hope you guys enjoy the new chapter :) It’s a long one...but, that’s starting to be a trend.
Anyway, prompts, links, and tidbits are always available here on Striving Scribe. Hey :) If you like what I’m about, and you want to help me battle the indomitable will of the cosmos, you could totally follow my tumblr and heart some entries :3 That’d be cool of you.
And hey…thanks :)
The metal seemed especially cold in her hand...most likely because she still couldn’t find her gloves. Still, she was done with sitting on her laurels and being fawned over. She was too late for actual feeding, but she had a mission.
The second she laid eyes on her horse, Amy could’ve wept with joy. For his part, Voltair seemed to be experiencing a similar, decidedly more horse-like version of excitement as he paced restlessly upon noticing her. He was practically trotting in place as she approached his stall.
“Hey, handsome.” Her voice sounded soft even in her own ears as she drew closer to his stall.
He finally stood still long enough for her to embrace his entire face (well, his head really) as he careened over the fence. His deep, gusty breaths filtered around her, somehow providing a sense of warmth...though Amy assumed that had to be psychosomatic.
“Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad.” she sang, scratching along the the column of his neck in a matching rhythm to the beat. “I missed you so bad… and you should know that, I missed you so bad.” It was so amusing that if she bobbed up and down he would bob his neck as well.
She finally dodged a bit to the side… It felt like a monumental task to heft herself up just one rung on the fencing of his stall. It was ridiculous as it was a simple three slat stall…. Nothing too difficult.
It had been four days since her injury… Four days of Solas, Magpie, Siheta, (occasionally Elossa, and Bax) and oddly enough even Wystan hovered in shifts about her.
She crested the top of the stall and just sat for a moment, astride the top-most slat. Voltair chewed absently on the excess tail of her ‘mullet dress’. She took that as a show of support. Sweet thing.
With another breath, she swung herself down into his stall...and instantly froze, regretting her decisions. She could do little more than breathe through the pain in her side, an achy reminder that she wasn’t quite at 100%. Luckily, Voltair was there to lean on.
“Now…” she said, hoping she didn’t sound like she was out of breath. “Let’s see about your hooves, love.”
Like always, she let her hand skim from his withers down the point of his shoulder and along the back of his leg. And, like always, he picked up his hoof, allowing her to take it easily.
It felt like it had been forever since they’d last done this.
Solas had assumed the position of the brain of their group, deciding on the best routes for healing...It wasn’t that she wasn’t grateful, but… Solas (ever the Fade-lover) prescribed little more than sleep.
Magpie and Siheta were the worker bees.. Though Siheta was decidedly less energetic. After two days, Siheta seemed to understand Amy’s growing ire and found other places to be. She checked in still, but wasn’t present at all times. Magpie never left Amy’s side...which was...ok. But...well...
The most embarrassing thing had been having to talk Magpie out of helping her in the privy. Helping her to the privy was fine...but in the privy was just. too much.
One hoof down, Amy proceeded to the back right hoof. For the most part, this was just a trust ritual. There wasn’t much that a horse could get hurt without here… sure there were rocks, but they mostly got frozen in the frozen mud and ice….
So, she didn’t really have to worry about anything other than detritus or sloshy mud sticking to the bottom of his hooves...still, it was an exercise in trust and helped with bonding.
“Well I’m stubborn and wrong, but at least I know it.” she sang, as was her habit. “I keep moving along until I get through this. But maybe this song is the best I can do it. So I’m. Patiently. Waiting on these!”
That hoof was clean, so she moved to his other side, twirling a bit as she sang. “Heroes and thieves at my door. I can’t seem to tell them apart anymore. Just when I figured it out… well, Darlin’ it’s you, Darlin’s it’s you. Oh, Darlin’ it’s you I’m without.”
His back hooves were remarkably clean. That much was good at least.
“Well, it seems like I’m getting closer somehow…” She murmured softly, moving around to his front left hoof. “A flicker of peace that I’ve finally found. Thank you for beleive in me now...cause I do need it.” She smiled brightly, hooking the hoof pick onto a belt loop and unhooking the curry and bristle brush.
She felt weakness sap her arms as she stirred to curry comb his side. Still, she was adamant this needed to happen. “Well, give me a year or two,” she tried to soldier on, through this ritual and through the song. “ and I’ll mend my ways and see these mistakes. And when I see the truth, well.. Darlin’ trust me, when I can’t see—”
“Maker’s Balls!” Blackwalls exclamation interrupted. “The blazes are you doing up and about?”
“Horse.” Amy said, and Blackwall closed his eyes and bowed his head, and for a moment Amy thought perhaps he was praying.
“I can see that.” he grumbled. He looked her up and down critically. “Do they know you’re here?”
“They?”
“Don’t you try and play innocent with me, girl.” Blackwall grumbled. Amy stopped what she was doing, stared at him and arched an eyebrow… she couldn’t help but wonder exactly which of them was playing innocent more so than the other here. “Solas and Magpie, the ones that’ve been looking after you for the last three days.”
“Four.”
“Four days!” He sighed, shaking his head. “If you’ve somehow given them the slip or tricked them out of keeping an eye on you, it’s just not right.”
Amy stood very still, maintaining her stare at Blackwall. Now, though, her eyes had taken a bit of a warning glare.
“ You .” she began firmly. “Ehn-tend to lek shure me ” her eyes narrowed. “..on deceee-ving uhthers?”
Blackwall’s stance stiffened slightly. His face blanked (a defense?), but his eyes rounded and for a few seconds there, it seemed as though he was holding his breath. Finally, he looked away, clearing his throat in thunderous contrast to the settling silence.
Amy went back to brushing Voltaire’s flank, ignoring him with a coolness that seemed almost foreign on her. A laughable mimicry of her mother...maybe she would’ve been proud of the attempt.
She could see her mother’s face now, her brow softening, her eyes sympathetic and amused, and the tiniest smile… Her mother could be warm, you just had to be looking for it. Bridget McMannus’s warmth was the barest blush of Spring, with a lingering chill of winter still in the air...full of intention and promise.
Amy clenched her jaw, drawing herself out of those rose-colored memories as viciously as she could.
She had no time for them or the bereft yearning that accompanied them. She needed firmer motivation right now…
She was having no luck with the curry comb. Her upper body strength was still shot… that, or she’d tired herself out so much getting here, that she had no reserves to tap into.
Blackwall was rallying, or attempting to. “...I only meant that… that you might not be well, and they might be worried.” He said, still not able to look in her general direction.
“Go ‘en. Get’em if y’wan.” Amy shrugged and regretted it, but managed to keep her face straight in spite of the pain. “I tell’em what I tell you. Can’t sleep awhlll the time. Need strk-ture.”
There was another long pause as she continued to brush Voltaire and he considered her words.
“So..I could just tell them that, then.” Blackwall murmured.
...if that was supposed to be a threat, it was very poorly constructed.
“That’s not necessary.” Siheta’s voice was at once startling and grounding. She sauntered into the stables, giving a nod of respect to Blackwall before turning and leaning back against Voltaire's stall. “Though, if you’re dead set on contributing to the situation, I estimate that Solas will be mentally pitching a fit in approximately 17 seconds.”
Blackwall gave a half chuckle. “I’ve done more for less.” he grunted almost in appreciation before turning to leave.
Once he was out of earshot, Siheta murmured. “Of course, nothing's gonna stop Magpie from darting over here with all haste.”
She had better results than the weather channel at least, as Magpie did, in fact, dash into the stables before halting and panting not but three feet from Siheta.
“Breathe, woman.” Siheta advised, unnecessarily.
“Really.” Magpie huffed. “Amy.” another huff. “Fake napping??” She finally careened upward, standing upright and struggling to straighten a crick out of her bent spine. “Can’t even trust the weary to sleep!”
Amy let a series of breathy giggles out of her nose...though it sounded more like a very tame version of Muttley laugh.
“I told you she’d make a break for it.” Siheta said, shaking her head. The woman seemed completely nonplused by the entire event.
Voltaire dipped his head and nudged Amy with his side. Amy couldn’t help but wonder if he was trying to get her to mount up. She huddled close to his neck, scratching affectionately at that spot at the base of his mane. “Can’t.” She murmured softly.
Solas, it turned out, was not far behind Magpie. Though he entered the stables with much less bluster, it was evident by the grim set of his mouth that he was ‘seriously displeased’. However, he simply stopped in front of Siheta and Magpie and said nothing, glaring ahead and looking at no one.
Amy figured the jig was up and her outing was officially over at this point… She had done what she came to do, so it wasn’t a total loss. Giving Voltair one final pat, she moved to exit his stall. The horse seemed confused that she was actually using the gate instead of climbing over the wall, but she wasn’t fooled about her capabilities and exactly how tired she was.
“You should have been resting.” Solas scolded, his voice a dreary monotone.
“ You rest.” Amy grumbled.
A soft sigh sifted from Solas’s lips. “Amy.” He said firmly and yet at the same time with the gentleness one dons when dealing with someone who has taken a hostage, but is cornered. You hear that shit on Criminal Minds all the time. “You will not heal properly if you do. Not. rest.”
Amy ground her teeth, but was saved from the trouble of replying when Siheta said, “I disagree.” Magpie’s eyes doubled and Solas’s attention snapped to Siheta. “An injured muscle that rests for too long will atrophy.” She reasoned with a simple shrug. “Moderation and observation are necessary at this stage. Even if Amy were to reach her limit, she’ll be fine if we’re there to help her.”
“Why am I not surprised you’re advocating for observation?” Solas grumbled, his eyes narrowing. “Do you need more evidence for your experimentations?”
“What?” Magpie breathed, looking between the two of them.
“S’hita ‘esper’ments as she obzervs me.” Amy murmured, leaning back against Voltaire’s stall. The horse swung his head over the fencing, hovering over Amy’s torso. Amy smiled, wrapping her hands around his soft nose and scratching softly when his lips moved to noble at her fingers.
Now Solas’s eyes snapped to her. “You’re aware?” He asked, somewhat taken back.
Amy blinked at him owlishly. “We tahlk.” she said.
Siheta crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back slightly. “It’s not as if we haven’t discussed it between us.” Siheta defended. “And my ‘experiments’ are relatively invasive. It mostly boils down to observation.”
Solas’s eyes widened in outrage. “Observation!” He seethed.
Siheta’s eyes closed, her head tilting to the side as her shoulders relaxed. “Why am I not surprised that you dislike anyone but yourself having a hand in—”
“I beg your pardon.” Solas growled. “What are you implying exactly?”
Amy blinked rapidly, looking a touch concerned between the two of them.
...what exactly were they fighting about?
Siheta drew herself up tall, looming over Solas as any of her race could—unfair considering as she really had to do was stand up.
But something was different. Something...had changed.
It was subtle, but anyone who’d been paying attention would probably see it. Not exactly what it was, but the fact that there was a difference was obvious.
It was something in the light… they were in shade here. Yet Siheta’s skin was well lit as she glared down as Solas, her eyes more vivid and brighter, and terrible in how impossible sharp they were as she glared down at Solas.
“You aren’t the only one with eyes, little Pride.” she said, and it wasn’t her voice alone. There was…. It was like listening to a Turian talk and noticing their sub-vocals.
And now it was something in Solas’s face that was changing. Not in the light as it had with Siheta, but in his expression. A strange sort of hunger paired with dawning recognition.
“You are…not alone.” he trailed off, his eyes darting.
“Good to see those ears are not decorations.” Siheta muttered, the sub-vocal stronger, deeper, more masculine.
She closed her eyes and reopened them, and Amy felt herself release a breath as she noticed they were back to ‘normal’.
Before either of them said anything more, Magpie inserted herself between them, facing Amy. “Look. I don’t care about your pride.” She said, glancing to her right at Solas. “Or your experiments.” She said to Siheta at her left. “Cuz that’s not what I’m here for.”
She reached out and took Amy’s hand. “Come on. If you’re really determined to stretch your legs, we can make a pitstop at the tavern.” She soothed before fighting off a smirk. She took Amy’s arm and wrapped it under her own, walking companionably with her while lending her a bit of support to lean on. “But then it’s straight back to your bed, missy.” she chided almost playfully, gripping Amy’s captured hand in both of hers.
“This isn’t the most appropriate place for this discussion.” Solas murmured, as the two women drew out of the stables. “We’ll return to our quarters and wait for you there.”
“You can do what you want, but don’t feel the need to wait up.” Magpie said, but didn’t slow her pace or stop. She just kept walking towards the tavern. Once they were both inside and the door had been shut she sighed. “Those two. The passive aggressive feuding has been way too intense for my taste.”
“Cold war?”
Magpie blinked as Amy sat in one of the empty chairs. The one nearest to the fireplace. “That’s a great term for it, actually.” she said with a grin. “In any case, if there are issues, they should just come out and say it so that they can deal with it and get it over with.” she said, sitting across from Amy.
“Have they… been fightin’?”
Magpie half shrugged, a careless gesture that seemed out of place considering how invested she seemed in the affair. “Not openly, but… there’s this feeling. It goes beyond antagonism.” She shook her head. “I give the old man grief now and then, but it’s never because I disagree with him about anything in particular or I’m mad at him. If that happens, I just come out and say it.” Magpie’s eyes narrowed. “Siheta acts like she doesn’t trust Solas. The way she acted around the soldiers before… I asked why, and she tried to play it off.” Magpie shrugged.
Amy had to wonder about that as well. She, like Magpie, wasn’t entirely sure what prompted Siheta and Solas to be on each others’ bad sides. The entire thing seemed counter intuitive. If anything...they would understand each other best, wouldn't they?
Or maybe she just assumed that because she associated Siheta so closely with Cole, and Solas often offered guidance and tolerance to Cole.
Magpie rose and slinked behind the bar, foraging for something—hopefully it would be something paired with booze.
It was then that Amy realized that neither Solas nor Siheta had her advantage… and Amy was rather tight-lipped on personal knowledge. She wasn’t about to tell Solas what she knew about Siheta, or vice-versa. That meant the two would probably be circling each other and snarling until they could figure it out for themselves….Seheron could be cast in bronze while the Tevinter Imperium fell into the sea before that could happen.
“Oooh, promising!” Magpie cooed after pulling out a small hunk of meat and cheese.
Amy blinked rapidly. “Where…?”
“Oh, Flissa’s been keeping vittles stocked in hidden caches since she and Adan decided to make preserves of that remedy elixir of yours.”
Now Amy was staring blankly as Magpie fished out a small knife from someplace on her person and began slicing the meat. “See, Adan and Flissa had been kicking around the idea of stockpiling the remedy, but once you had your accident, they decided to deploy those ideas.” Magpie reeled back, her eyes rolling heavenward as she sigh heavily. “Those two are so cute it’s disgusting, by the way. I fully blame you for that.”
Amy’s mouth dropped open. “Adan and Flissa??” she heard the pitch of her voice waver, climbing at least an octave higher. When Magpie grinned and nodded, Amy squealed and clapped her hands. “Yessss.” she hissed happily.
It was then, while Magpie worked to lay slices of cheese over bits of meat, that Bull, Krem, and Varric walked in.
“What’s this?” Varric asked, while Bull’s eye narrowed.
“Oi.” Krem grunted. “You good for bein’ up and around there, Charmer?”
Amy smiled. “Naaah… but, when’s that stop me?” she asked. Varric chortled softly, sitting at her left. Bull and Krem exchanged a glance before sitting on the right side of the table, but leaving room for Magpie to sit next to her.
“Yea, we’re just letting our girl stretch her legs a bit.” Magpie said, bringing over a plate with the stacks of meat and cheese.
“You know what would make this snack better?” Varric asked, reaching for the bag he had attached to his hip. After fishing about in there for a second, he pulled out a shiny red apple. Amy stared at it as if he’d just put the crown jewels on the table. It had been ages since she’d seen a fruit, much less gotten to eat one.
“Oh, yea!” Magpie said, sitting beside Amy and reaching for the apple. “This’ll go great with the cheese.”
Amy continued to play it cool, but she was a little shocked at how excited she was at the prospect of this food. Of course, she hadn’t been enthusiastic about food in a while. It wasn’t that she was too proud for porridge, hardtack, gruel, and Ferelden stew stretched thin to satisfy so many workers...she just couldn’t be excited about it anymore.
“You’re really good with that knife, there.” Krem observed, and Amy had to agree. Magpie was managing to slice the apple up into very thin slices to spread among them with deft precision.
Magpie grinned. “Yeah, I may not be the best hunter, or fighter, or...well..anything, I guess.” She said with a shrug. “But when it comes to meal making? Oh yea….the hearth is my bitch.” She preened, pushing the full plate in front of Amy.
Amy looked at the plate, now full of food, and then to Varric. “What?” He asked.
“Not awl mine.”
“You’re honestly waiting on us ?” Bull asked, a breathy chuckle shaking his frame. Krem was shaking his head too.
“Wot?” she croaked, defensive.
“I can always get more apples, Charmer.” Varric soothed, nudging the plate closer to her.
“Besides,” Magpie began. “You didn’t eat breakfast, and you’re little trip to the stables probably ate a lot of your strength. You probably could eat that.”
...that was true, but that was also very selfish.
“You’re going to eat it.” Bull said, trying his best to sound menacing. “Or I’ll find something else to fit in that pretty mouth.”
Amy instantly glared at him. “Come on an try it, bitch.” she bit out with surprising veracity, making Krem laugh out loud.
“Oh.” He half whimpered. “That’s a show down I wouldn’t mind seeing…. Again.”
Amy stacked an apple slice with some cheese and—merciful savior, it was pork. How in the nine hells had they managed to preserve pork!... then again, it was colder than Satan’s armpit outside. And there were a lot of mages around…
She never really thought about food preservation in Thedas, but now that she was thinking about it… it just seemed really lame to wiggle her fingers and say ‘magic, yo’, but that probably had a lot to do with it. That, and...well, they were in the ass-end of the Frostbacks...so,00 the cold.
Amy half moaned as the savory flavor of the pork paired with the sharpness of the cheese was sweetened by the tender fruit. She had often eaten apple slices and gouda cheese together, but she’d never paired it with meat before….and she probably needed all the protein she could get at this point.
“I like a woman that enjoys her food.” Bull murmured, his entire manner changed from his previous ‘enforcer’ persona. It was good to see it gone, as Amy had enough people bossing her about with Solas and Magpie. Though Magpie was more concerned big-sis and Solas was all Captain Von Trapp with the restrictions. “Surprised to see you in the tavern at all, considering…” Bull’s voice trailed off, and while Amy had no idea what he was talking about, she was too busy enjoying food to ask.
“Ah..” Magpie cleared her throat. “No one has actually...discussed recent events… as of yet.” she said with obvious reluctance.
Amy paused her chewing for a few seconds, then continued making a somewhat muffled, “Hmmm?” inquiry.
Magpie gave her an apologetic look before elaborating. “You see… after the meeting we had together—”
“When you spilled your guts in front of everyone.” Bull clarified, as if he needed to.
“—The terrible trio, plus Sam decided to...enact a few changes. Mostly in titles and some in policy.”
Amy blinked, piling up another mouthful slowly and waiting for Magpie to continue. She’d started, so chances were she was going to more thoroughly explain what those vague words entailed.
“We were going to tell you. I want that on the record.” Magpie said, patting the table as if it were the record. “I just… I wanted to make sure you were...well, stronger. In case you felt that one of the decisions was…...well—”
“Wrong?” Bull offered.
“Stupid?” Krem chimed in.
“Overbearing?” Varric had to take his turn, didn’t he?
“Unnecessary.” Magpie finished.
Amy slouched, enjoying the way it allowed her muscles to relax. She made another “Mhmmm” noise, but it sounded more like a ‘get on with it’ than an ‘I understand’.
Magpie nodded. “Well, everyone had to have their say, and what they all came to was that they wanted to make certain that you were protected. Cullen and Leliana were mostly concerned with your safety—Leliana with the particulars of preserving your knowledge, of course. Josephine was concerned about the perceptions surrounding you. So… I suppose what it comes down to...is that you have an elevated status. You’re more of an advisor now, instead of just a delegate between the groups, and...uh...well.”
“They don’t want you on the field or in the tavern anymore.” Bull said, never the sort to shy away from a battering ram technique.
Amy paused mid-chew as that settled in.
“It’s just!” Magpie tried to swoop in.
“Smooth, Chief.” Krem grumbled quietly out the side of his mouth, and Bull shrugged in that ‘what!’ way that people do when they’ve missed a social cue and have no idea how this is their fault.
Of course, Bull did know what he’d done.
“Think of it this way, you’re probably going to get a nice office out of this in the chantry.” Varric said. “And you’ll have to deal with us rabble less.”
“It’s just that… well, Cullen’s cracking down on the soldiers, and Leliana’s really cracking down on security, on her end that is. And Josephine is more aware of your reputation, and she… she really doesn’t know how she can work with ‘tavern wench’ in your job description.” Magpie hurriedly explained. “So, it’s not like they’re punishing you or anything. They’re not mad at you at all!”
Amy blinked and resumed chewing.
Well… of course.
She took a deep breath through her nose and let it out, swallowing her present mouthful.
“Oh.” She said, her voice sounding soft and small.
“... ‘oh’?” Varric prodded. “That’s it?”
Amy shrugged, and then winced. She went about the motions of stacking some ham between cheese slices. “ ‘S’how it works, yeh?” she said simply, eyeing the food. “People...in charge… make deh... deah-cisss-yons.” She shook her head. “Hafta trust ‘em.” she murmured before taking a bite of the ham and cheese.
“Wow.” Krem murmured. “I did not expect that.”
“Yeah..” Bull grunted. “Me neither.” He eyed Amy suspiciously. “I thought you’d be madder than a wet hornet.”
Amy’s gaze sharpened, and Bull’s eyebrows rose in surprise when she pinned him with her sharp gray-green eyes. “Oh. I’m nawht mad. I’m pissed .” She hissed through clenched teeth. She did perhaps take serious satisfaction with tearing into her cheesy ham not-sandwich, grinding the morsel between her molars.
The table was mostly silent, with Krem visibly biting his lip, Bull not moving a muscle and Varric’s eyes darting between everyone. Magpie seemed safe as she patted Amy’s shoulder sympathetically.
“I know.” Magpie said.
“If thhey’d just ahsked!”
Magpie nodded. “I know.”
Amy shook her head, taking another bite off the plate and damn near swallowing it whole. Of course, that made her feel terribly guilty. Half of the point of taking her time to eat this food was...well, she was a little tuckered out, but the fury had given her a bit of rejuvenation. But mostly because it tasted really good, and it was a shame to waste it.
“You know there’s more to you than just this tavern, right?” Bull ventured, careful and gentle.
Amy just ate and breathed quietly, staring down at the table in her most glum impersonation of Eeyore. “I knooow.” she droned. It was so spot on, she half wanted to murmur ‘thanks for noticing me’, but that joke would be lost on this crowd.
“I’m serious.” Bull said, tipping his head down so that he could catch her eyes. “What they’re doing… I mean, yeah, you probably hate how it’s being done, but…”
“I knooow.” Amy snapped. She sat back a little, sighing. “Know why .” she muttered. “But… like the tahvern. Like to spend time here with you guys.” she continued, her tone rising to something that was less whiny and more natural. “An’ I like tha field. Don’t want… don’t want soldiers an mages to think…” She shook her head.
“They won’t think that you’re upset with them, Amy.” Magpie comforted as best she could. “They do think that you’ve been hurt and you need to recuperate.”
“They’re ours.” Amy insisted. “Our Mages. Our Soldiers.” She tried to steel herself, bringing her hands up and resting on the table palms-up as she rotated her shoulders a bit. She could feel the muscles around her shoulder blades relax a bit. “Dohnt want them… to think I’m frihi… frite-tend or mahhd.”
“They won’t.”
“Well. The soldiers won’t. Curly won’t give them more than five seconds to squeeze together, I’m pretty sure none of them have the energy to think.” Varric said with a huffy laugh before realizing that his statement had not helped in the least.
“And even with this new titled that the big-wigs want to give you, there’s nothing that says that you can’t come to the tavern. They just don’t want you working here.” she grinned.
Amy half smiled at that. It was true, she supposed. Perhaps there was more clout with being a tavern-goer as opposed to a tavern wench.
“As for the rest… I’m sure we can figure it out.” Magpie said. Amy half snickered, remembering a well-loved cartoon she had watched together with Conner. “The rules that can’t be broken can surely be bent.” Magpie said, in a startlingly similar rendition of exactly what Amy had been thinking of.
She tried not to think about it too much, because there was already so much to think about...
Amy shook her head. “No. Can’t say… I rehspekt our leaders… if I am… con-stant-ly suhb-ver-ting them.”
Magpie gave her a look. “Amy. What was it you said about being civil while disobeying authority?”
Amy blinked. “Civil disobedience becomes a sacred duty when the state becomes lawless or corrupt?” It was Amy’s turn to give Magpie a look. “They...are hardly corrupt.”
“Give ‘em time.” Varric chimed in.
“Same man said… The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.” Amy took a deep breath, trying to remember Mahatma Gandhi’s words. “Anger is the enemy of non-violence and pride is a monster that swallows it up.” she closed her eyes as she continued reciting. “In a gentle way, you can shake the world.” She took another deep inhale through her nose before releasing it. “Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will.” She murmured. Finally, she opened her eyes. “Nobody can hurt me without my permission.”
There were a few seconds in which no one did anything. They simply observed Amy and occasionally looked at each other.
Amy smacked the table. “Fuck.” She grunted. “M’still mahd!” she said before slouching and stuffing another few slices of food in her mouth.
Varric chuckled, which somehow broke the tension. Even Amy shook her head, a little amused at her ludicrous behavior. It was enough to edge out the sting at least.
“Well, look at it this way. You’ve got some time to rally your strength before anyone officially broaches the subject.” Magpie murmured. “You can actually think of all the things you want to say!”
Varric laughed out loud. “Oh, please let it be Curly that breaks the news to you.”
“And please let us be around to see it.” Bull added.
“Fuck you.” Amy grumbled.
“We have to wait until your well, Charmer.” Bull reminded in a particularly smarmy fashion.
Dalish, Grim, and Skinner made an entrance at this point.
“Oh, I didn’t know we were having a party here.” Skinner said, sitting between Krem and Bull.
“Ok, no one can tell anyone that Amy was here.” Magpie murmured in as hushed a tone as she could manage while still grinning like a loon.
The door opened, and Siheta breezed in, removing her cloak and hanging it up while making herself at home behind the counter. That seemed to be a common occurrence lately, but as no one else was remarking on it, Amy did little else aside from watching the mage do it.
“Naturally.” Skinner grunted, reaching forward and snatching a slice of apple off Amy’s plate. Amy blinked, her attention now back on the table as Skinner’s movements caught on the corner of her eyes.
“Oi.” Krem’s voice seemed much too deep for him to be saying something like ‘oi’…but, there you have it. “That’s for Charmer.”
Amy waved away his concern. “oh, nah…” she said shaking her head. “M’full.”
“That’s too bad.” Siheta said from her spot behind the counter. “I was about to ask if you’d like a little something to drink.”
“Separate…stomach. For that.” Amy said, her voice high in the manner some children have to portray innocence.
Siheta smirked. “Indeed. What’ll it be? Beer or whiskey?”
Amy shook her head. “Ale.” She requested.
“Ale?” Bull prodded. “You never drink ale.”
“S’needed.” Amy murmured. “Brandy for headaches,” She began reciting. “Whiskey for teeth, port for stomach aches, red wine for the heart, vodka for hunger, rum for memory, ale for exhaustion, mead for depression, gin for broken bones, and beer—”
“—for living and breathing!” she and Magpie said at the same time. “I think I’ve heard an adage like that back with my clan.” She looked askant as she thought about it. “Though, I don’t think it was that extensive…”
“Oh. Which clan was that?” Dalish asked with the devil’s own smirk.
Amy snickered softly. “Clan Magpie.” Siheta smirked as she set a cup of ale at Amy’s right. She then busied herself behind the counter.
“Dread wolf’s eye teeth, no.” Magpie groaned at the ceiling. Of course, that was when Solas walked in. Of course. Though he only smirked at her expression, sitting apart from them as he usually did.
“What exactly did you do in your clan anyway, little bird?” Dalish asked, and Amy had to wonder why the sudden interest seemed so keen. Was it simply that Magpie hadn’t sat with Dalish before?
Magpie took a deep breath, exhaling in a huff. “Oh, nothing especially interesting. At most, I was a cook or a scout. A pretty decent one at that. But really, I wasn’t the go-to girl for any specific job. I did a lot of cooking and talking between our Keeper and clans folk.” She said with a shrug.
“You make it sound like that’s nothing.” Varric noted. “People and food are the most difficult things to deal with in all of Thedas, you know.”
Magpie’s mouth skewed sideways in a strange grimace. “My clan is… well, there are a lot of multitalented people back home. Having one decent skill is like saying you’re good enough, and good enough isn’t good enough.” She finished polishing the blade of her pocket knife, and sheathed it in her sleeve. “And I am just that.”
Amy felt a touch offended, to the point that she realized how territorial she was over Magpie. It wasn’t as if anyone had gone out of their way to insult anyone… for that matter, it wasn’t entirely credible. Perhaps, clan Lavellan wasn’t as ‘multitalented’ as Magpie had said. Instead, it could be that Magpie felt that way because of some lack of self-confidence…
“Well that’s shitty.” Bill grunted.
Magpie only shrugged again. “I like it fine here. Sam and Cullen are remarkably straightforward, and amazingly thankful for what little help I can provide.” She nodded. “I like it when the bar is set real low.”
Varric smirked. “So… that’s who you answer to.”
Magpie chuckled. “I didn’t think it was a secret. It’s not like I’d throw myself on the Nightengale’s mercy.”
“Oh, I agree. Curly and Princess are damn good superiors.” Varric nodded. “It’s a safe play.”
“But that doesn’t stop you edging your way around the happenings of Haven.” Solas reminded, in full ‘Haren’ mode. It was like he thought he could school people by sounding like an elder or something…
“Well…yeah. I get by.” Magpie grumbled. “Any elf worth their salt can be a damn good spy. Most of the people around here don’t think twice about having us around because elves are seen as sub-standard members of society.” She said rolling her eyes. “It’s the self-defeating frustration that gets me. I mean, yeah. I get it. They think less of us, so we can use that to our advantage. But how can anyone be satisfied with being thought of as some sort of peon?” she shook her head. “It’s stupid.”
“Not stupid.” Amy murmured over the rim of her mug. “Makes sense.” Magpie blinked at her. “Because you.. you are not a bird, or a halla.” She smirked. “You are a wolf. And…” she sat her mug down and stared at Magpie. “Every wolf, no matter how or when, comes to the realization that it…is not… a dog.”
Magpie had to smirk at that. “Huh. Well. I guess I can live with that.”
“Most Dalish don’t like wolves, though.” Dalish reminded.
“Not so.” Amy corrected. “Don’t like Dread wolf. Single.”
“That’s true. I’ve known clans that regarded wolves as pests, and some others who traveled with wolves instead of halla.” She shrugged. “It depends on the clan, really….though, all agree about being cautious of singular wolves.”
Amy took another sip of ale, her mouth puckering at the taste… it wasn’t necessarily bad…It just wasn’t whiskey. “Lone wolf is… usually something to… be wary of.” She felt like she’d slipped into lecture mode. “Wolves operate in packs. Well organized. Very efficient. If a wolf’s alone, herds don’t want that… because he is a predator. Other wolves are wary because… they couldn’t keep in their old pack.” She shrugged, and noticed momentarily that it wasn’t as painful as it had been earlier. Only tight. “Is logic.”
“Indeed.” Solas’s voice was almost clinical. It made Amy worry that the conversation was making him nervous…though, he didn’t appear nervous. Still.
“So… what else is… happening in Haven?” Amy asked, her attention fixed on Magpie.
The elf seemed to think that over before checking things off on her hand. “Well, I told you about the developments with the Remedy. We’ve gone over your new…ah…appointments, as it were.” She said, making a somewhat squeamish face. “Oh. Madame de Fer has tasked her seamstress with making you something more suitable to wear.”
“Well, thank the Maker for that.” Varric grumbled sarcastically.
Magpie halfhearted glared at him. “Right. That’s rich coming from you, Serah silken red shirt with gold faste ners--not buttons--with three undone on purpose for effect.”
“How many titles do you have?” Krem asked, but Varric only shook his head with a rueful chuckle.
“I want an outfit like Siheta’s.” Amy said pointing to the woman in question. Siheta shimmied her hips, her traditional garb like the Quanari clothing with a few aesthetic differences. Instead of string or rope, her outfit was held together with thin bands of cloth, but essentially it was the same.
“Yes.” Bull said abruptly. “I mean.. .Uh… is that.. are we… is this something we can help fund?”
“But no trousers.” Amy elaborated. “Just the top and the skirt. Like Huttslayer Leia.”
Bull looked around expectantly. “I’m serious. Where’s the… Where can I contribute to this outfit’s creation?” Even Grim chuckled at that.
“Bull?” This came from Siheta. “Would you be kind enough to carry Amy back?” Bull was already standing to comply.
“ Quoi ?”
“You need your rest, Amy. You’ve had an eventful day, and I’m fairly certain you’ve reached your limit.” Siheta reminded. Sometimes, it was really annoying when she knew the things that she knew. “I need to stay here, Solas needs to check in at the chantry, and Magpie needs to check back in with Cullen and Sam.” Magpie was nodding, albeit reluctantly. “Bull has little to occupy him, and certainly nothing he’d enjoy more than taking you to bed.”
“Ohhh.” Amy let out a breathy exhale. “Bad pun is bad.”
“I liked it.” Bull said with a chuckle. He was crouching now, and Amy simply leaned into his chest, allowing herself to be gathered up in his arms. This time, he carried her bride-groom style. It was both more comforting and a little nerve wracking.
“Mind your manners, Chief.” Krem reminded, his voice sounding an awful lot like that of a tattle tale. “Sam’ll skin you alive if—”
“I know, I know.” Bull grumbled, making his way outside. Bull’s gait was relaxed but nowhere near as slow as it had been when he’d carried her before. It wasn’t her new quarters were far away. Once inside, Bull stood in the middle of the room, still carrying her.
Amy didn’t bother asking why, she knew Bull would sort himself out eventually. She just stared at his face and waited.
“Look I… I know I fucked up.” He blurted with all the aplomb of an atom bomb.
“Eh?” Amy wasn’t exactly certain where this was coming from.
“I don’t think that… I mean, I’m not saying...” He took a deep breath, closing his eye and hanging his head. “I don’t think you’re crazy and I don’t think you’re a liar. I think you know what you say you know… not sure how, but I’d lay odds on that much.”
Amy reached up, halting his hasty words by laying a hand over his mouth. Finally! Some eye contact! It was hard enough to manage since he only had the one.
“M’not mad.” Amy murmured. She pointed vaguely to her injured side. “Per-spec-tive.”
He let out a single huff of laughter, and the hand against his mouth drifted absently, to caress the side of his face. She wondered why he was suddenly so worried. Even if there had been any lingering confusion from what had gone unsaid, it was obvious by how Bull carried her…. He always handled her as though she were something precious. So, even without saying the words, she knew...
“I guess… maybe I’m a little worried that, what with your new status and all, we’ll probably be drifting apart.” He confessed. “Wanted to make sure the air was clear before anything like that could happen.”
It was then that melancholy seeped into Amy. She was tired from all this activity after being so wrecked and having so little in the way of stimulation, sure. That was expected. But it suddenly hit her.
Cullen didn’t want her on the field.
Josephine didn’t want her in the tavern.
Leliana wanted her in the chantry.
At least, that’s what she assumed.
“Guess we’ll just have to work at it.” Bull grunted with a slow shrug.
Amy took a deep breath and tried to let it out nice and slow. She reminded herself that change was normal, and that even if things seemed depressing, they’d find a way to get through it.
Just like before, all of those words were great, but did nothing to lessen the severity of how much this all supremely sucked.
The door opened, and Bull turned to find Varric walking through.
“Setting up shop here, Tiny?” Varric asked before he shuffled over to his make-shift writing table. “It’s gonna start to get real crowded in here if you bring your Chargers for a slumber party.”
“Yeah...but it’d be fun.” Bull corrected with a smirk.
“Varric writes me ta sleep.” Amy said with a smirk.
Bull had to blink at that, looking between them.
Varric chuckled. “This is about the time when Amy settles in for a nice long nap. We usually gab about whatever and then when she starts to drift off, while I write.”
Amy closed her eyes and whispered, ‘scritch-scritch-scritch-scritchity~scritch’.
“Huh… what are you writing?” Bull asked, sounding only a shade suspicious.
“Mostly letters, but it doesn’t hurt to take a few notes.” Varric said, eyeing Bull with a wicked smirk.
“Huh.”
“Learned that Hawke’s a goober.” Amy announced.
“Ha!” Varric laughed. “Yeah, we’ve talked about Hawke a lot. Though, Charmer tends to know about things before I even tell her about them.”
Instead of setting Amy on the bed, Bull opted to keep her in his arms, carrying her over to the bed and sitting down.
“You worried about being misrepresented or something?” Varric asked as he sat down.
“...well, I am supposed to ask about your friend Isabela.”
“See? And I still can’t tell if you’re shitting me!” Varric nearly exploded before plopping down in his chair.
Amy chuckled and burrowed against Bull’s chest. Varric was right; normally, Amy would be laying down for a nap right now. But she was more than content to just remain here, and keep talking with them.
She had to start rebuilding her endurance, and she wasn’t content to leave that up to chance.
“But, really, Charmer, I don’t think Magpie’s wrong.” Varric was saying. “Just because you aren’t a server in the tavern, that doesn’t mean you can’t come by for a drink yourself.”
Amy only hummed, not at all committed to any course of action at this point. It wasn’t like she was in any shape to go anywhere without her ‘handlers’ freaking out. Which meant that she had time to think about it, either way.
“Or, you could pitch an unholy fit and just do whatever you want.” Bull said, also smirking. “I bet you could get away with it.”
Amy gave him a look that was both pained and judgmental. If Varric and Bull were playing the angel and devil on her shoulder, she knew exactly which was which and was a little disappointed that her ‘angel’ was a jaded salt mine….it was nice that her devil had horns though. Consistency. There was probably a dwarf joke to be made in the salt mine quality, but not this day.
“No.” She said in a very firm, deep tone. “They lead. Make the choicez.” she shook her head. “Beeh-sides. So much moar ta do.”
It was time to grow up a little, obviously. That wasn’t impossible, it just wasn’t as fun as being a tavern wench. Still, everyone else was having to bear the weight of this wilting world… A little maturity wasn’t too much to ask of her.
There was something… something she needed, and yet it was with her all along… what was it that was nagging her?
‘McManus is a broad line, you know. Not just for our clan.’ her father had said. She could see his face smiling that same winsome smile. He hefted her up on his shoulders, and she squealed when he spun around. The countryside was so green, even under the sun’s waning light... it nearly hurt to look at it. ‘It goes all the way back to Rome! From the name Magnus.’
‘Do you know what it means, My dove?’ her mother had asked, that indulgent look that seemed to soften her so dawning in her eyes… Amy wondered how often she’d failed to see it. The way her mother couldn’t stop smiling in those early days when Da had horsed around with her or her brothers. ‘It means, to be magnanimous.’
This conversation had happened when she was six, during a tour of Ireland that her mother had orchestrated. Another of the ‘grand homecomings’... back when Granda and Gran had been more than a little cold towards their daughter-in-law. In spite of less than encouraging conditions, Bridget McManus had never shied away from the opportunity to connect, had she?
The memory suddenly came flashing back….and Amy remembered thinking that her parents were that. They were magnanimous. Even if she wasn’t entirely certain what all the word entailed, she imagined that they somehow were exactly that.
Magnanimous, huh?
“You sleepin, Charmer?” Bull asked, his voice a deep rumble in spite of how quiet he was trying to be.
“Nah.” Amy denied, her eyes still closed. “Jus restin’ my eyes.”
“Don’t let her fall asleep on you, Tiny. She kicks.”
A laugh shook Bull’s entire frame. “Like I need you to tell me that.” Amy had to snort at that. She felt Bull heave a heavy breath. “Looks like it’s nap time, Amy.”
For whatever reason, Elizabeth Taylor sprung into Amy’s mind.
“Now is the time... for guts and guile.” Amy murmured, albeit more drowsy than she had felt only moments ago. She could only assume that the food and booze were settling. It was also safe and warm, and she was asleep within minutes.
Hope you guys liked this chapter :) I'm going to be heading to Tennessee for a week or so to visit my cousin over New Years. We have long-standing plans to watch the new premier of Sherlock together ^..^ Already working on the next chapter, though, so hopefully the break will help.
*long sigh*...I'm thinking Taco Bell...