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@varriclever
"i’m so proud."
submitted by fictionalized
Sera: Stop doing that. I can hear how you’re looking at me. You’re doing that thing where you describe what we’re doing.
Varric: Narration. And you can hear how I’m looking?
Sera: That’s a thing. Just stop it.
Varric: I will try my best not to do the impossible.
Varric Tethras
Varric: Is the Qun some kind of big secret? How come no Qunari I’ve met will explain it even slightly?
Iron Bull: It’s not a secret, it’s just too big for a quick chat. “Tell me about the Qun” is like “tell me about economics”.
Iron Bull: Most Qunari know just enough to get by. It’s like blind dwarfs trying to figure out a dragon by touch.
Iron Bull: Only the priests really have the whole picture, and they spend their whole lives figuring that crap out.
Varric: Well, I’ll leave them to it, then.
Iron Bull: You know what I miss? Horn balm. It’s impossible to get it out here.
Varric: Really? Back in Kirkwall, you couldn’t kick open a crate without finding a jar of the stuff.
Iron Bull: Really? You got any?
Varric: No, we usually just threw it away.
Iron Bull: (frustrated grunt) Horns itching….
"If it meant keeping us safe, I’d do it. I’d rather have you alive and in one piece," Varric explained while reaching up and putting a hand on Bull’s hip.
"All in good time, Tiny. Can’t rush perfection. "
Bull’s ears flattened a bit against his skull. “Eugh, don’t get sappy on me right now..” There was a whine to his voice as he bent down to nuzzle the other’s head. “I don’t really want to think about anything happening to either of us at the moment.”
"Perfection, right."
"Sappy? Pfhhttt. You have yet to hear sappy I'll spare you for now," he sat down on a bench with Bull and pressed into his side.
"You must remember that time you asked me what it was like to stare up at asses all day. Just think about that. Where my height puts me..."
"Not unless I had to. You’ve never given me a reason to," he said, taking the mug and washing down the truth with a mouthful of mead.
"What would constitute ‘having’ to lie to me?" Bull asked, a bit of concern in his voice as he sat down on the nearest stool to be closer to eye level with Varric. "I’m still waiting on that trick, also."
"If it meant keeping us safe, I'd do it. I'd rather have you alive and in one piece," Varric explained while reaching up and putting a hand on Bull's hip.
"All in good time, Tiny. Can't rush perfection. "
"Would you?" He raises one brow before pouring him a large mug and handing it down to him.
"Not unless I had to. You've never given me a reason to," he said, taking the mug and washing down the truth with a mouthful of mead.
“Don’t thank me yet, you’ll smell like one of Josephine’s floral arrangements for a week—However, it’s better than sepsis.” She was no master healer, but every First was taught the old Dalish ways of herbalism if only because as always someone had to keep the old way.
Eurydice let out a noncommittal hum in response. 'Does it matter?' was what she wanted to ask but it didn’t seem like something Varric would take well. He liked people to be, well, people—Even when she didn’t especially feel like one as often as of late.
"There are worse things in the world to smell like. I think I'll live," he watched her carefully, not expecting a full response, so therefore, not surprised when he didn't get one.
"Use your words, sweetheart. Other dwarves may speak in grunts, but I was raised with a little more culture than that."