A greenhouse encounter with good men's or dragon age!
Prompt # 8: a greenhouse encounter (x)
KNIGHT OF ROSES (DA2, Anders & Varric, implied Anders/Hawke, quick and indirect mention of animal death, 956 words)
Really, the last thing Varric wanted was to snoop or be a mother hen — not more than he already begrudgingly was — but he couldn’t ignore how his apostate friend had become all quiet and mopey lately, and, well. He couldn’t be blamed if he worried about the kind of trouble Anders might have been in.
So, when the mage excused himself from a game of Wicked Grace, one evening, Varric made sure to lose the next round and slipped out through the back door, making his way to Darktown. If Anders was already at the clinic, Varric could talk to him face to face; if he wasn’t, he had to come back at some point. He’d rather not drag Hawke into this if he could avoid it: if his friend was actually sweet on Anders, as Varric was beginning to suspect, a premature involvement in whatever this was could do more harm than good.
Cute, he thought when he found the clinic’s door locked. He put together a suitable telling-off about security in his mind in the half minute it took him to pick the lock. He tiptoed in the dark room, resigned to wait for his friend and hoping he had something interesting to read lying around, when he spotted something he never noticed before: the outline of a door where he swore there had always been a plain wall. It would have been invisible, if it hadn’t been for the faint light outlining its shape.
The door was unlatched, and it opened without a sound… not, to Varric’s surprise, on the back alley he was sure was on the other side, but on a small room filled with warm sunlight.
The wooden panels that made up its walls and roof were dirty and splintered, but all the spaces between them had been carefully sealed. A handful of delicate glowing orbs floated gently in midair, invisible to passers-by.
The narrow space they encased was made even more cramped by the wealth of pots and planters lining the floor and the walls and hanging from the low roof. Varric saw elfroot, orchid-like embrium, red berries of prophet’s laurel, the large, violet-tipped leaves of royal elfroot, as well as other herbs that he didn’t recognize: something that looked like a particularly ugly thistle, and a cascade of delicate looking branches spilling out from a hanging vase.
At the other end of the small greenhouse, a familiar, oblivious robed figure was turning his back to Varric as he watered a planter with what looked like a large clay jar.
“Never knew you had a green thumb.” The yelp Varric’s remark elicited wasn’t as undignified as he hoped, but he was happy to settle.
“For the love of…” Wiping ineffectively at the water he spilled on his robe, Anders turned to glare at Varric as he gingerly put the clay jar on the ground. “Since you already let yourself in, I don’t know why I expected you to knock.”
Crossing his arms, Varric took a sceptical look around. “I don’t know, this place looks like a stiff wind could knock it down.”
With a frustrated huff, Anders ran a hand through his hair. Blonde strands stood on end as they escaped his half ponytail. “Yeah, well, I’m not a carpenter.”
“You built this?” Varric didn’t bother to hide his disbelief, to which Anders responded with a resigned half shrug.
“Herbs are expensive and I need lots of them.”
Varric’s eyebrow arched of its own volition. “That’s all? You could have asked me.”
He expected his friend to argue back, but after what looked like a short internal struggle, Anders just sighed. “I know. Would you believe me if I told you I needed it?” Reaching for a pair of rusty-looking secateurs hanging from a nail, he went back to tending to his plants. “The first thing I tried when I came here was to see if I could lure stray cats with milk. I learned pretty quickly that you don’t want to get attached to stray cats in Darktown.” He made a grimace when Varric hissed through his teeth. There was no need to elaborate. “That’s why I keep this on the down low, by the way.”
Varric nodded. “Word gets around you’re growing rare plants, and next thing you know, they’re gone.” He took another look around. As rough and ramshackle as this place was, there was a cozy feeling to it. “You know, they say taking care of something helps you take care of yourself.”
“Do they, now?” Without looking at Varric, Anders clipped off an offshoot from the mysterious plant in the hanging vase.
“What plant is that?”
“Oh? Crystal grace,” Anders answered absent-mindedly. “It should bloom soon. See these buds?”
Taking a step closer, Varric examined the shoots in question. “I didn’t know crystal grace had healing properties.”
When Anders didn’t offer an explanation right away, Varric looked up at him. The candlelight was too dim to be sure, but that blush on his cheeks was pretty unmistakable.
“But its flowers are really pretty, right?” Varric went on with a grin. “Picture how lovely they would look in a vase in a certain Hightown mansion—”
“Yes, yes, you read me like an open book.” Anders clipped off another small branch with more forcefulness than necessary. “What do you want me to say?”
With a chuckle, Varric patted his back as he allowed himself to be relieved. He thought the boy was in trouble with the Carta at the very least; instead he’s just lovesick. “Nothing, Blondie, nothing. Give Chuckles your flowers. The next round of ale at the Hanged Man is on me, by the way. See you there when you’re done moping.”
Ok, ten thousand years ago I promised giveaway fics (back when I was @lavellot and had only 300 followers on that blog)
So this is really really embarrassing, but I opened up my old drafts and I wanna try and give the people I promised SOMETHING, even if it’s literally years later and my writing block is pretty bad and it’s hard to write.
So I tried this little poetic thingy and it’s for @sadconsolegamer and her Cadash with an Iron Bull that betrays you in Trespasser. I’ll try to get to the rest of the winners as well, but I hope y’all enjoy this.
“Nothing personal, bas.”
Salt spray on the Storm Coast. Dalish lies dead-eyed. If they stand, they’ll fall.
They were his men.
They fall.
Itwa-ost.
Itwa-adim.
She made his choice.
Duty to the Qun supersedes personal desires.
Red velvet knots on her wrists….
She says “Katoh” and he unties them, gently.
Kisses the marks on her body, tenderly.
Whispers “kadan” as he holds her close.
He remembers her choice.
His role.
Hissrad.
Liar.
Duty to the Qun supersedes personal desires.
Nothing personal.
He charges and she cuts him down, whispers “Katoh, katoh,” voice shaking.
Too angry to be hurt.
He falls, eyes heavy, lips taste like iron and salt.
Like the salt spray of Seheron.
Red mixed with the blue and grey.
Seeped into the stones.
Angry eyes stand over him.
His men.
Itwa-ost.
Itwasaam
It was nothing personal.
He made the right choice.
Translation (pulled from Trespasser):
Itwa-ost: You all fall
Itwa-adim: They all fall
Itwasaam: We all fall
Possible triggers: None that I noticed, but if there’s any just comment and I can add it
“Maker,” the Commander mumbles as he sips from his flagon,
“Commander?” Cassandra cocks her head, placing her hand on the Commander’s shoulder. He flinches but looks up at the concerned looking Seeker.
“Yes Cassandra?” He asks trying to act as natural as he can.
“Is everything all right?” Cassandra asks, worry in he voice and a maternal care in her eyes.
“Fine,” Cullen says simply, smiling at her.
“That’s obviously a lie,” Cassandra frowns. Cullen sighs and sets down his cup of beer.
“It’s just-“ he stops himself, his eyes wandering to where the Inquisitor sits, laughing with Bull and the chargers, slapping Krem on the back, wincing as he feels a ping of jealousy in the back of his mind.
“What?” the Seeker asks, following Cullen’s gaze. The Inquisitor ruffles Krem’s hair and smiles at him.
Cullen sits in silence, his brow furrowed in silent anger.
“Oh,” Cassandra says softly, as a feeling of realization washes over her.
Cullen turns back to her and sighs. “It’s just... the way she laughs when she’s with Krem....” Cullen looks down at his empty flagon, as if begging it to refill. “I could never make her laugh like that.”
The Seeker rolls her eyes at the Commander’s slightly juvenile jealousy. “Cullen,” she sighs “the Inquisitor loves you, isn’t that enough?”
Cullen shakes his head, “True as that might be, I could never make her as happy as she is with him”. The Commander looks back up at the Inquisitor laying her head on Krem’s shoulder, still giggling uncontrollably.
“Cullen,” Cassandra turns on her stool and takes both of Cullen’s hands in hers “she is happy with you.”
The Commander’s face softens as he turns back to his Inquisitor. She stops laughing for a minute and turns around, catching the Commander’s eye and smiling warmly at him. The Inquisitor grins and motions for him to take the empty seat next to her. Cullen smiled back but shakes his head, Cassandra rolls her eyes and pushes him on the shoulder. The Commander turns to the Seeker, a silent look of thanks on his face, as he stands up and walks over to the love of his life.
Sorry if this sucked, I’m not used to writing in third person or in present tense so this was pretty much an experiment.
It swept in when the fires burned low, and the night was silent; where one could only hear the breeze rustling through the trees. It seeped in slowly as he lay down to rest, turned on his side, head pillowed by his own arm, said actual pillow cool beneath the skin of his arm.
Getting into bed was easy. Sleeping was harder.
Wynne had taken over his shift, allowing him to retire for the night, and a gentle push towards a familiar tent, whispers of a prayer for sleep to find him easy on her lips. And he had taken it, having found his eyelids drooping without consent, before shaking himself awake once again. Even his usual pacing and exercises to keep awake had rung dull that night.
So he accepted the shift change with a grateful smile, retiring for the night.
Only to find himself suddenly awake in the darkness, staring at the tent flap, thoughts seeping in. Anxiety about the battles to come, the battles that had past, and all in between. And worse...Duncan.
He shouldn’t have survived....it was a trick. Of a witch no doubt. All had been lost at the tower of Ishal. The Grey Wardens overrun. Everyone...overrun.
And yet, he was alive. Despite the odds.
There were better people that had been with the wardens. More experienced. Who would be able to handle the blight better. Who would be able to make the contracts they carry mean something. Who would be able to lead and talk through politics with the populace. Honorable wardens, who had been inducted long before him.
And yet he was alive, because he had been tasked with Ishal.
He gripped the sheets, eyes closing shut tightly, as if that could stop the rising waves within him. Biting his lip only irritated chapping, a copper taste filing his mouth. Blood. Blood that was tainted by the very things that hunted them. Still hunted them. The nightmares were degrees of the truth.
He found himself curling in on himself, knees being pulled up, free hand moving up to cover his eyes, to shield himself, which was synonymous with the fact that it was his shield hand. He fought to keep his breathes even, in and out, as imagery of the hoards of darkspawn riddled his mind, against his own battle, where he had tasted death, and somehow fled.
“Alistair?”
He froze, breath taken from him as he felt himself solidify like a rock, eyes open wide under his hidden hand as the blankets shifted behind him.
Then warmth, against his back. Flesh pressing into his own, arm crossing over his waist, a kiss at his shoulder.
He saw it, more then felt it, the shaking of his hands. Of his body. And he cursed and was grateful when that hand reached up to touch his own hand, gently intertwining their fingers, but moving no further, not until he himself slowly relaxed his arm, seeing the visage of one of the other survivors from Ostagar, her brow furrowed, worry reverberated off her when while her thumb moved over her hand.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He found himself shaking his head no, and her shoulders dropped at that, and he wanted to roll over and bury his head again. But she straighten right up before he could follow instincts, a determined glint crossing her eyes, one he had seen countless times when people gave them a task to complete, so that they could help people.
“Then let me distract you until you can.”
Lips were upon his own then, and his mind went peacefully blank.
Tonight would not be the night he talked of his guilt to her. It would be a few more months before he learned that she had guilt of a slightly different nature, that she had conquered on good days, and could leave her very much like him on a particularly bad one. It started simple enough, them cuddling after a long day.
“I sometimes get angry at my parents. At Duncan. I should’ve been able to get them out. Mom could still walk. We could’ve carried Dad. But...it wasn’t my choice.”
“Not your choice?”
She shook her head, hair tickling his chest where she was buried against.
“It was theirs. And I understand it. But...”
“You wish it could be different?”
She nodded at that, sighing and hugging him tighter. “Their death still hurts. I understand and accept their choice. But....”
She trailed off after that. Alistair didn’t remark on the fact that his chest was growing wet, carding a hand through her hair and holding her close instead.
Alistair himself wouldn’t give voice to his own gnawing guilt until a particularly bad nightmare, after they returned to Ostagar, following Osiris path towards Morrigan’s last whereabouts, after all was said and done with the archdemon. And it came out unexpectedly, as they were walking towards the bridge, and he saw Ishal on the horizon, as it always was. His footsteps slowed, staring at it.
“I should’ve died there...”
“What?”
His gaze turned on Llydia, who was looking back at him in confusion.
“I should’ve died...but I didn’t.”
“No, you shouldn’t have!”
“What?”
It was his turn to be startled, finding a fuming Llydia, who looked about two seconds from knocking him out.
“I...” He trailed off, taking a step back when she stalked towards him, only to be caught off guard when arms just circled around him instead, hugging him tight. Hesitantly, he brought his arms about her, hugging her back.
“Lots of things should’ve happened in that tower. You’re death isn’t one of them.”
“Llydia...”
Hugging her, he could almost believe it. Without living, he wouldn’t be here, holding her. Or all the other amazing moments with the group as a whole. In those moments, it didn’t matter whether he had lived or died.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. Want to talk about it?” She eventually relented, pulling away from him, and he nodded.
“Yeah, I do.”
Sometimes in life, things happen. They just exist as is’s. Wound’s happen from the is that can be life, and though they can never be fully healed, they can be patched, worn, and turned into bearable. The first trail, the Blight, was done, it was time to let the wounds scar.
It happened as they were running. Duncan was suddenly in front of them, directing them which way to go, pointing to the left, which the stranger responded to immediately, turning his body, and pulling her along with it. And then they were running a different direction, a glance behind showing that Duncan stepped into the spot they just were, gun raised.
She saw it then, wings sprouting, extending, large brown feathers spreading wide as he widened his own stance, shouting something she didn’t comprehend.
Then the stranger pulled her again, and Duncan was out of sight. Seeing his wings must’ve wired into that part of her brain that could detect said wings, as she suddenly was aware of flapping. Of black feathers peeling away around her.
Turning her sights forward alerted her to the fact that her crash buddy was somehow showing his wings as well, though they were small, bandaged at the moment, one tucked in protectively, while the other sometimes gave a small flap in the space between him and her, as if to help keep balance as they ran.
Then she heard more flapping, to her right, and she reacted, as the stranger was tugging her that way, was turning his body to dart down the walkway where she swore she heard the flapping come from. So she pushed, when his body turned, the hand that held the book pushing against his side, as she shouldered her elbow into his side, pushing him forward, causing him to trip.
She heard more then saw the gunshots, as she was too busy turning herself, and pulling on her crash buddy, pulling him along with her as she took the lead, pulling them forward, seeing only a flash of shock from her running buddy before she was focused ahead.
“This way” She stated, pulling him to the right when she heard the rustling of wings coming from their left.
“How do you know?”
“Their wings.”
The stranger didn’t respond to her answer, and she didn’t think about it too much, her world becoming only a series of flaps and rustles and black feathers everywhere.
Until the stranger pulled her again, gently, stopping in his running, making her lurch a bit, but blink back at him. He titled his head, and she looked where he was indicating, seeing an alleyway that should get them further away from the boardwalk.
“Any feathers?”
“No.”
“Lets go.” He said, pulling her down the alley way. They got about halfway before he stopped again, letting for for the first time in what felt like hours, only to pull away a tarp she hadn’t realized was there, revealing a bike. He pulled it out, swinging on it instantly.
“Hop on.”
And since she had already done crazier this night, she did so.
--
“You hopped on a bike with a complete stranger?”
“It didn’t seem so insane in the moment. But...yeah.”
“Llydia...”
“Hey! It worked out. Besides, he was working with the cops anyway.”
“What-”
“Yeah-”
--
“The police station?” She questioned, when they finally disembarked. “You aren’t a criminal?”
“You’re just now asking that?” The stranger chuckled, getting off the bike as well, but shaking his head. “Depends on your definition of criminal. In some places, I am.”
“But not here.”
“No, here I am an asset.”
“I see...”
“Now, lets get that book inside. Shall we?”
“Whats so important about the book?”
“Ah, now you ask the real questions.”
He stepped forward, moving towards the station, and she stepped forward as well, but was stopped when she heard her phone going off. Pulling it out of her pocket, she saw it was from Alistair, and instantly answered it.
“Alistair-”
“Llydia! Where are you!” Came Alistair’s panicked voice.
“I’m at the police station”
“I-what?”
“The police station.”
“....the police station?”
“Yes.”
“....how?”
--
It was later, that she was in Duncan’s office, Alistair and, as she now got to learn, Zevran, sitting on either side of her. The book on the desk in front of her.
Alistair had been informed of what had happened, and had taken to glaring at Zevran when he thought Duncan wasn’t looking, already having gone through the lecture of getting innocents involved, which gone along the lines of:
“You’re not supposed to get innocents involved.”
“Its called sleight of hand. I knew who had the book.”
“And if she had just dumped it?”
“She didn’t. You worry too much.”
“I do not worry too much!”
Which had been broken up by the arrival of Duncan, much to her relief, as she wasn’t able to get in a word edge wise and had been left holding said book.
“We were lucky this time. Llydia, I apologize that you got involved.” Duncan spoke.
“It’s alright.” She responded.
“Without her, we wouldn't have gotten out of there.”
“Is that so?” Duncan questioned.
“She shouldn’t have been involved in the first place-”
“Alistair”
He went quiet at that, and Duncan turned his attention back to Zevran.
“She lead for the last half of it.”
“Did you?” Duncan turned his attention on her, and she suddenly wanted to sink down into her chair.
“I guess? I mean...yeah.”
“Then it was lucky Zevran ran into you. Though I’m surprised he allowed you to take control.”
“She knew where they were better. Following feathers.”
Zevran was looking at her, and she found herself turning to meet his gaze, wondering why he was bringing up the feathers thing, when most people, aside from friends, let that little fact drift to the side, not believing her, only to find Duncan with an intense gaze on her when she turned forward again.
“You see feathers?” Was all he asked.
“I....yeah?”
“What else do you see?”
“Um....can I decline this question?” She hesitated, suddenly feeling a bit trapped between the three of them. Duncan let his shoulders drop, taking a breath, and some of the tense air drifted away.
“Of course. But if you did, we wouldn’t think of you any less.”
“Um...thanks.”
--
They talked a bit more, getting the story straight between the three of them. Llydia was sent into the hallway when they actually got to talking about the book, and the day caught up with her, feeling a rush of exhaustion. The next time she was aware Alistair was in front of her, hand on her shoulders, a gentle smile.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“You alright?”
“Yeah. A little shaken...but yeah.”
“I have to go file a report, and Duncan wants to talk to you. But then I’ll take you home, okay? And we can talk more later, if you want.”
“Okay.”
He patted her shoulder, looking a little unsure of himself, before standing and moving away. She watched him go, before taking a breath, and standing up, moving into the office.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize I was interrupting.” She spoke, when she saw Zevran was still in the room.
“Not at all. I asked for you. Please, have a seat.”
“Alright.”
And she sat.
“I apologize again for involving you. Unfortunately, you’re involvement will not end here.”
“It wont...?”
“No. I have a favor to ask of you.”
“...alright.”
“Would you mind taking Zevran in for a few nights. The people today will know to watch the hotels in the area. It’s a lot to ask of you, but I wouldn’t if I thought there was another option.”
“I....” She turned, looking at the man she was to be taking in.
“I promise to be on my best behavior. Scout’s honor.”
“I...guess.”
How do you say no to the chief of police anyway.
“Then it’s settled, yes?”
“Yes.” Duncan responded.
--
Neither of them would speak of the real reason. That they were worried Llydia might be recognized by the people today, and sending their resident spy was the best option they could come up with.
Even if Alistair argued it. He couldn't combat the argument that he was too well known in the community, and would draw attention rather then disperse it.
--
“So you just agreed...like that to let him stay?”
“I wasn’t thinking straight...”
“Llydia...”
Wyndi sighed, before walking into the other room, hands on her hips. Llydia watched her go, hesitantly going to the door of the kitchen to watch her.
“If you hurt any of my friends you’re going to have a bigger problem than guns.”
“I do not doubt that.”
“Good.”
--
“You’re not going to kick me out?” Zevran asked, later, after Osi had gotten home and done his own bit of threatening against the new guest, and Shinde had been informed of the situation as well. After the awkward dinner and Llydia turning in early and Osi going in after her to check on her since she had that certain look about her and papa bear was on the prowl, leaving shinde, zevran, and wyndi in the living room.
“I’m not that big of an asshole. We’ll see if you are here tomorrow though.” Wyndi responded.
“Indeed.”
--
“I’m an idiot.”
“No you aren’t. Stop it and go to sleep. You’re overtired.”
“Yes I am. I agreed to let a stranger stay.”
“Llydia....”
“Yea...”
“We love you.”
“...I love you too.”
“And you aren’t an idiot. Just...got caught up. We’ll figure it out in the morning. Okay.”
“Who is that?” Wyndi questioned, having walked into the living room, returning from work, instantly finding a stranger in the house, and pointing him out.
“Why, you didn’t tell me I would be in the presence of such beauty.” The stranger remarked, sitting up straighter, from where he had been sprawled on the couch, the phone he had been messing on slipping into his pocket.
“Zevran!” Llydia hissed, only receiving a shrug from the now named man.
Wyndi raised her eyebrow.
“I can explain. Well not really...uh...its kinda long story.”
“Not at all. You saved me. I have to go into hiding. It was suggested I come here.”
“Uh huh...” Wyndi dead-panned, hand reaching into her pocket, just to hold onto her phone. You know, in case she had to leave osi or shinde a last message because there was a stranger in their house.
“You are not helping. But...essentially. Alistair and Duncan asked me. Well sorta....” Llydia offered
“Why couldn’t he go with them?”
“Because-”
“Zevran, shut up!”
“Alright. Alright.” Zevran held up his hands, sitting back, crossing his legs. “I’ll let you explain, oh fearless seerer.”
“Don’t call me that!”
‘Ah, but you are.”
“Llydia....” Wyndi spoke softly, causing the girl to jump. With one last look at the sudden charge, Llydia stood, moving over to where Wyndi was, grabbing her hand and leading her back into the kitchen.
“Um...there was a situation earlier....”
--
“Stay here.”
‘What? Why?”
“Just do it, okay. I’ll be right back.”
That’s what he had said. They were at the boardwalk, enjoying the fresh air, debating about going on the ferris wheel, when Alistair had stopped suddenly. When his look turned serious, she had opened her mouth to question, only to be told to stay there.
So stay she did.
For two minutes.
That was, until a person came barreling straight at her, head turned back. And she found herself like a deer in headlights, knowing she should move, yet unable to. She saw the man turn forward, realizing the impending crash, and try to change trajectory, only ending up turning his body slightly to the left, before she found herself being bounced off of.
And thus, she was acquainted with the ground, and with the stranger’s weight.
“Ah, sorry. But I must run.” The stranger had remarked quickly, rolling off of her and brushing himself off, taking a quick look from where he came from, before giving her a two finger salute and taking off down the rows of concessions.
She sat up herself, blinking at where he had gone, before turning back to where the guy had come from, and realizing there were three new guys there, standing there.
And then running.
And pointing.
And shouting.
Not the man though.
At her.
“She has the book!”
She glanced down, realizing that yes, in her lap was in a book, though she wasn’t sure how it came into her possession. Looking back up, the men were closing in, and she realized she needed to move.
Now.
So she did, all the world suddenly jutting forward in motion again, where it had slowed down from the moment the stranger had saluted her. She dodged quickly, feeling an hand on her arm and shaking it off, taking off where her would be crash buddy had run off too, unsure of why she was running, but betting it was better then staying with the men.
She ran straight, trying to catch sight of the man, only to have a hand dart out in front of her, pulling her arm, pulling her to the side.
“This way.” was all she heard, before her arm was still being taken, pulling her into running.
“You!”
“Ah yes! Me!” Was all the person responded back to her, the same person who had crashed into her now dragging her along. “I didn't intend for them to see the book. I must work on my skills.”
“You meant to leave the book with me!”
“Not at all. But, gotta make the best of the situation. Lets get away, now, yes? I’m afraid they’ll use guns soon.”
“Guns!”
“Yes, guns! It’s great fun!”
“I wouldn’t call this fun!”
--
“He ran into you, left you a book, and then dragged you away from guys with guns!” She had tried to keep quiet, she had, but somehow had ended that sentence in a shout.
“If only I could use those wings you see to fly to you.”
“Omg. You dork. And wings in general would be great. I’d be back home already.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah, less traffic, right? I mean, the air is a lot less crowded.”
“I don’t know about that. Birds, airplanes, bugs. Other people.”
“True. But, also more space up and down.”
“Interesting notion.”
“We’ll have to discuss it further. But first, bed, if I”m ever going to catch my flight tomorrow, I’ll need sleep.”
“Can’t wait to see you! <3″
“Me either! Night, Alistair. <3″
“Night, Llydia”
--
She didn’t realize how soon she would see him, figuring it would just be Wyndi and Osiris picking her up after her flight, so she had taken her time getting off the plane and through the airport. But when she was walking through the last security checkpoint, and she saw him standing at the end of it, waiting patiently for her, her smile couldn’t be wider.
She, however, did make sure to drop her luggage when she was only a few feet from Alistair, so she wouldn’t lose said luggage, before basically leaping into his arms, hugging as tight as he was hugging her.
I saw this post (made by actualalistair ) about Alistair watching nail painting Tutorials and then doing said tutorials on his love’s nails, and this was born.
Kinda same premise. But, in our AU, there is a group of four wardens (ones that me and my friends made). This one features Osiris, who whooed Morrigan, and Llydia who whooed Alistair. And its Al going for help to Osiris because he, out of everyone, would be the best at make-up and nails and everything. And since I had Alistair being a beginner at everything nails, might as well go to the expert first!
SO YEAH
I wasn’t sure if I should link back to the post/person who prompted the fic since it was more then just a list of AU’s so if its not needed I can get rid of it
“So you....well. Lets see. What if I you want to do something with someone. But you weren’t sure how they would react?”
Osiris stopped what he was doing, glancing up from his laptop screen to the other man.
It was a rare occurrence, for him and Alistair to be left to their own devices. But Al had come over to the house to see Llydia, who happened to be out with Morrigan at the moment. They were shopping, of all things, but wouldn’t tell him for what. Other then it was a secret, and he’d find out later.
Alistair had made himself comfortable, as was the norm, spawled out in the loveseat with his phone his hand, while he, himself, was on the couch, laptop in his lap.
“Depends on the kind of things you want to do.” Osiris stated cautiously.
“Uh...not bad things. Honest. Just. Well I think she would be into it...maybe.”
“You could just ask her.”
“I could....” Alistair trailed off.
Osiris watched him for a moment, watching the reddening of said man’s ears, the way he was looking at his phone, but not really looking at it, flicking to make the phone scroll through it’s screens. He sighed softly, placing the laptop on the table in front of him, turning his body towards Alistair fully.
“Look, I’m sure she’d be fine with whatever it is you wanna do..”
“I know that. I don’t know....its just. Well, she does them herself already.”
Osiris paused at that, head tilting to the side.
“Wait, what are we talking about here?” Osiris questioned.
“Um...painting nails? I mean, I could paint my own but that’s harder and to get the cool designs then. ”
Osiris blanked for a second, before chuckling. “Is that all?” He spoke, relieved, though quickly relented when Al gave him the classic ‘wtf’ look, looking offended.
“Dude, I thought you were asking for other advice. But that, that I can help with. Also, I think she’ll be fine with you painting her nails for her.”
“Oh good. Wait, what did you think I was asking about?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
--
“So, which nails do you want to do?”
Osiris had drug Alistair into his own room by this point, if only because he had a fuck ton of nail polish to choose from, and it was easy to just have Al come and get it rather then explain all the different ones. Osiris himself was digging digging through his make-up area to get at the cotton balls and other such items that would be needed in this adventure.
“Well, there is this one. It looks like dragon scales.” Alistair responded, phone in hand again, pulling up a picture he had saved on his phone, showing it to Osirirs.
“I have the tutorial saved on tumblr.”
“Someone actually figured out how to do dragon scales?! Those look great. We are both doing them. Done.”
“Both?”
“Yep, right now. I mean, gotta get you started on the basics first. But I think we could get dragon scales out on the table by the end of tonight.”
“I...”
“You ready?” Osiris asked, having scooped up the colors he thought would work best for the process, the rest of his tools in hand.
“I guess?”
--
“I wasn’t expecting this....”
“Shush. Pay attention.”
“You sound like Duncan.”
“Good!”
“What did I get myself into?”
Despite the grumbling and awkwardness, they were back in the living room, both sitting on the floor in front of the living room table. On the table was the various nail painting tools they were using, spread out within easy reach.
Currently, Osiris was ‘teaching’, holding Al’s right hand within his own, nail polish brush poised, dabbing lightly.
“The key is not getting too much polish on the brush. Just enough to coat the nail, but not to drown it. Otherwise it’ll take forever to dry. You do not want this.”
“Alright.”
--
“The music is good.” Alistair commented.
“Mhm. Gotta love them boy bands.”
“Boy bands?”
“Yeah. It’s Backstreet Boys at the moment.”
“Gotcha.”
--
“Alright, your turn.”
“But you can already do nails.”
“But it’s my non dominant hand! And you need practice.”
“....”
“Exactly. You have no argument.”
It was true, and Alistair did need the practice, since this was a new endeavor. Even if Osiris wasn’t Llydia and the whole thing still had twings of awkwardness around it, because of the need to impress Osiris, or a least not get on his bad side, since he was one of the best friends of the love of his life.
But that was neither here nor there.
--
“Not too bad for a first time.” Osiris spoke, blowing lightly on his nails, admiring them. Sure, the hand Al’s did was a bit more sloppy then the one he did himself, but it at least resembled the picture.
It was a step in the right direction.
“Only because you cleaned it up with the nail polish remover.” Alistair remarked, poking said bottle.
“That’s what it’s there for, friend!”
“It does look nice though.”
“Welcome to the world of nail polish. It’s fantastic.”
“Do they really have nail polish that glows in the dark?”
“Yes, they do.”
“What if we painted glow in the dark scales on top?”
“I...yes!”
--
It was hard to tell who started the singing, when Osiris didn’t change the playlist on his computer, and the backstreet boys were making their rounds again, while they dabbled in the glow in the dark nail polish. And if asked, Al would say that the wine Osiris had pulled out probably helped start it all. Regardless, it started quietly, saying the words at the same volume as the music, the other person joining in, until they both started goofing off, saying the words louder.
That just prompted Osiris to replay the song again, and since they were just waiting for the new nail polish to finish drying, why not start a dance party.
“Everybodyyyy” Osiris started, holding out a hand to the still sitting Alistair
“Rock your body.” Alistair responded, chuckling, but taking the hand.
“Everybodyyyy.”
“Rock your body right.”
And thus, the two bonded over the Backstreet Boys.
Enough so that they were still singing and bopping to the boy band when Morrigan and Llydia did finally show up, walking in the backdoor.
“My, what have we walked into here?” Morrigan chuckled, making both boys freeze in their spots. Osiris, who was turned towards Alistair, and looked to have been gyrating on him, turned just as quick, a smile on his face.
“Morrigan! My love!” Before going to greet her with a kiss on the cheek, despite the fact that they were in company of the others and she just gave him a loving look of being utterly done.
Alistair, for his part, had looked a little out of place with Osiris, but was chuckling, and had had his hands up in the air, dropped them to a normal level, going to hug Llydia, who accepted it, wrapping her arms around her boyfriend.
“Having fun?” She questioned, when they pulled apart, only getting a nod from Alistair.
“Yeah. It’s really good music.”
“I would ask why Osiris was practically on top of you, but it was backstreet boys, and he’s does that during the sexual line part.”
“You say that like you don’t do the exact same thing!” Osiris responded, causing Llydia to turn, making a face at him, before turning back to Alistair, shrugging.
“He’s right.”
“It happens. Oh, look what I can do! They’re scales” Alistair brought up his hand, showing her the bit of work his and Osiris had done, and she took his hand within her own, gasping softly.
“That looks really cool. No fair. I want scales!”
“We still have all the stuff out. Al can do them for you Llyds.” Osiris interjected, appearing next to Llydia.
“Really? Yes! I just have to pee first.” She cheered, before letting Alistair’s hand go, leaving the group for the moment.
“See, totally fine with it.” Osiris said.
--
And thus a new tradition, of sorts, was born. Alistair and Osiris would find new nail designs to try, and work with each other to figure out the finer details of getting said design done. They’d have a ‘getting the nail’s done’ night, that would always be the two of them for sure, but would often feature Llydia and Morrigan, as ‘test subjects’ for the two, with others of the clump and friends floating in an out at times.
And if Morrigan and Alistair got at each others throats too much, it could be dispersed by playing ‘Everybody’, if only because Alistair and Osiris got into it way too much and it was fantastic, the awkwardness of that first night burned away with time.
