#lfjadlkjf

[valorcorrupt]

"I heard a rumour you were on a first name basis with the King of Ferelden."

Help! Tas has a Knife! AKA Rumble Rumors...

As her hand tightens around the knife she's holding at the dinner table, she has to take a deep breath and remember that this is the man Iander fancies.

"Past tense is correct."

The words are tight, and she does not bring her eyes to his.

"And based on my past experience, you'd get on well. You both appear to have been raised by dogs."

[valorcorrupt]

"Hey," he says, passing a jar to her, "can you open this?" His brows rise, expectantly. The jar appears to be a bunch of pickles. (the lid, unbeknownst to her, is glued shut)

"No problem!" she chirps as she takes it from the younger Warden.

She's happy she's still useful for something in the young monster hunter's eyes.

She heaves, and the lid doesn't move. She grunts, and the lid doesn't move. Davrin laughs, tries to take it back. But no! No! She's got this! She turns away from the younger Warden and gives it everything she's got!

The glass cracks.

Then shatters.

The pickles fall on the floor, a wet and sad noise.

She stares at the pickles, damp and wrinkled there on the floor like her pride.

She looks at Davrin.

"Ummm. Must've been somethin' wrong with the jar."

[valorcorrupt]

// anyone who takes a barely-touched NPC and fleshes them out and makes them their own is wonderful. u are doing good work. I thank u