Random Acts of Fanfic
Oct. 27th, 2011 06:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thessalianWith apologies to tempus_teapot for stealing her idea of condensing her Tuesday plot nug drabble stuff into one post on a ... well, Thursday, now. But if I'm going to write fic, I may as well start owning up to it again. Plus it's easier to keep track of what I've written that way than it is to randomly tack them into my Memories and dig them out of the comments (though I do that too, if only to remind myself what went where when and it's always fun to reread other people's stuff too).
Surprise Party
"Are you ever going to speak to her again, Fenris?"
"No."
"Actually, Hawke, that's not such a bad idea. It's not like he says anything to her but 'avert your eyes, witch' these days anyway..."
"Not now, Varric... Look, she didn't mean any harm. She knew it was the anniversary of our meeting and ... wanted to do something nice."
"Yes, because springing a surprise party on a hunted man in his own home is in no way an invitation to trouble. And the costumes..."
"Come on, Elf. She just wanted to help you feel at home. Though I'll admit that a Tevinter Imperium theme probably wasn't the best idea, considering what happened."
"...you shouldn't have dressed as a magister, Hawke..."
"Apology accepted. Though ... still ow..."
"Well, I'd be able to heal the gaping sword wound a lot faster if you'd all shut up and let me concentrate! This kind of magic takes it out of you, you know."
"Sorry, Blondie. Carry on."
Piles of Paperwork
Once a week, Hawke and Varric got together in Varric's suite at the Hanged Man to share a few bottles of wine and play the old game. Even after so many years, it was the only way they could cope with the various responsibilities left with them by recent rises in their respective fortunes.
Hawke looked up with a sigh. "Three business proposals, two invitations to Merchants' Guild social events, four requests for loans directed at four members of House Tethras that I'm pretty sure don't exist, fifteen requisition forms and an offer of marriage. To Worthy's cousin, by the way; I'll warn you now that the family has a tendency to get very nosy so if you take him up on it, hide the serials well unless you want your big finishes spread all over Hightown Market."
That got a snort from Varric. "Oh, please. Worthy's been trying to offload her for years. And I'm a happy bachelor. Let's see ... for you, there's six invites to dinners with nobility, three dwarves who want you to fund their next Deep Roads expeditions - all crooks, so you know - a request for a personal appearance at the Viscount's annual ball wherein the subtext reads 'please don't bring the elf this time', and eight marriage proposals. Oh, and an invite to hunt wyverns with Orlesians. That's new."
"Ugh; Duke Prosper again." Hawke sighed and reached for her wine goblet. "I'm pretty sure he wants me to marry his son, so put it in the 'marriage proposals' stack." She drained her goblet, refilled it and then stared at the piles of paperwork in front of Varric. "Eight marriage proposals? Really?"
"Yeah; I'd advise against telling your angsty porcupine that one. We may end up with a noble shortage around her." After a pause for thought during which he drank his own wine, Varric added, "Well, maybe tell him about the one who's comparing your eyes to lyrium veins. That's just asking for a smack in the jaw. Hey, do any of the business proposals look interesting?"
"Second-hand jewellery, wallop mallets and underground nug fights."
All Varric could do was laugh for a full two minutes, then shook his head. "Underground nug fights; is there any other kind? And 'second-hand' means 'stolen', so refer them to the Coterie. The others? Standard 'go jump up Andraste's ass' letter. Social events - typical excuse about too busy. I'll let you handle Worthy however you like so long as it translates to 'no'."
Hawke nodded. "I'll have to leave the requisitions to you; I don't know your business that well. And ... threaten the one who compared my eyes to lyrium veins with Fenris. That could be good for getting him to stop playing that bloody lute outside my window. The rest ... you know the drill."
"No, no and a thousand times no. Not even the wyvern hunting? Sounds like your kind of thing."
"...Orlesians. And I'm not having Duke Prosper de Up-Himself dribbling over me again."
Varric nodded, conceding the point, and they exchanged signet rings before taking another fortifying swig of wine and getting to work. Then Varric looked up from Hawke's mail and said, "With that many requisition forms? I think I win."
"No way," Hawke replied, not even looking up from her own piles of paperwork. "You know the points system. Anything to do with Orlesians nets a hundred points before it's even read."
"I'll get you next time, Hawke."
Paperwork, they had discovered, was a lot more fun when it wasn't their own they were handling.
Say Anything
"I don't know what to say, but ... I am here."
"Just ... say something; anything."
In the moment it took him to answer, so many options flashed through Fenris' mind.
Your strength and fortitude inspire me; your lack of bitterness humbles me. Your grace when faced with strife and slurs shames me. I am not deserving of what you have given me and I would hold you, were I still permitted. I am a fool; a fool, and twice a fool, and a million times a fool for pretending that the taste of my own bitter heart is somehow better than the crow that I would be obliged to eat to return to your side. Forgive me for leaving that night. Forgive me, and let me give you comfort even as I take it, even with the memory and pain that may come with the taking...
But he looked at her face and knew that now was not by any means the time. He could be bitter, overly proud and unapproachable ... but he could not be so selfish as to broach this at such a vulnerable moment.
Instead, so unsure and tripping over the words he longed to say, Fenris stammered, "They ... say that death is but a journey. Does that help?"
He cursed himself for a fool yet again when it clearly didn't help them - either of them - at all.
In other news, slept badly, still lurgified, and am getting horrified over on Tumblr about the whole deal about The Mists of Pandaria. If they're going to give us a playable race of Kung-Fu Pandas, they could at least try to throw a spin on it somewhere. Tauren have Mulgore, Worgen have Gilneas, and Pandarens have ... Pandaria. And there are to be pet battles. I subscribed to Warcraft, not Pokemon. *sigh* The expansions have gone "Azeroth -> beating back demons in Outland -> beating back the pissed-off undead in Northrend -> beating back a pain-maddened warder of the earth itself with the entire world cracking under one's feet -> ...pandas and pokeballs", so maybe I shouldn't be surprised this is a letdown.
Now, lemme just crawl back under my duvet and die for a couple of days.
tempus_teapot for stealing her idea of condensing her Tuesday plot nug drabble stuff into one post on a ... well, Thursday, now. But if I'm going to write fic, I may as well start owning up to it again. Plus it's easier to keep track of what I've written that way than it is to randomly tack them into my Memories and dig them out of the comments (though I do that too, if only to remind myself what went where when and it's always fun to reread other people's stuff too).Surprise Party
"Are you ever going to speak to her again, Fenris?"
"No."
"Actually, Hawke, that's not such a bad idea. It's not like he says anything to her but 'avert your eyes, witch' these days anyway..."
"Not now, Varric... Look, she didn't mean any harm. She knew it was the anniversary of our meeting and ... wanted to do something nice."
"Yes, because springing a surprise party on a hunted man in his own home is in no way an invitation to trouble. And the costumes..."
"Come on, Elf. She just wanted to help you feel at home. Though I'll admit that a Tevinter Imperium theme probably wasn't the best idea, considering what happened."
"...you shouldn't have dressed as a magister, Hawke..."
"Apology accepted. Though ... still ow..."
"Well, I'd be able to heal the gaping sword wound a lot faster if you'd all shut up and let me concentrate! This kind of magic takes it out of you, you know."
"Sorry, Blondie. Carry on."
Piles of Paperwork
Once a week, Hawke and Varric got together in Varric's suite at the Hanged Man to share a few bottles of wine and play the old game. Even after so many years, it was the only way they could cope with the various responsibilities left with them by recent rises in their respective fortunes.
Hawke looked up with a sigh. "Three business proposals, two invitations to Merchants' Guild social events, four requests for loans directed at four members of House Tethras that I'm pretty sure don't exist, fifteen requisition forms and an offer of marriage. To Worthy's cousin, by the way; I'll warn you now that the family has a tendency to get very nosy so if you take him up on it, hide the serials well unless you want your big finishes spread all over Hightown Market."
That got a snort from Varric. "Oh, please. Worthy's been trying to offload her for years. And I'm a happy bachelor. Let's see ... for you, there's six invites to dinners with nobility, three dwarves who want you to fund their next Deep Roads expeditions - all crooks, so you know - a request for a personal appearance at the Viscount's annual ball wherein the subtext reads 'please don't bring the elf this time', and eight marriage proposals. Oh, and an invite to hunt wyverns with Orlesians. That's new."
"Ugh; Duke Prosper again." Hawke sighed and reached for her wine goblet. "I'm pretty sure he wants me to marry his son, so put it in the 'marriage proposals' stack." She drained her goblet, refilled it and then stared at the piles of paperwork in front of Varric. "Eight marriage proposals? Really?"
"Yeah; I'd advise against telling your angsty porcupine that one. We may end up with a noble shortage around her." After a pause for thought during which he drank his own wine, Varric added, "Well, maybe tell him about the one who's comparing your eyes to lyrium veins. That's just asking for a smack in the jaw. Hey, do any of the business proposals look interesting?"
"Second-hand jewellery, wallop mallets and underground nug fights."
All Varric could do was laugh for a full two minutes, then shook his head. "Underground nug fights; is there any other kind? And 'second-hand' means 'stolen', so refer them to the Coterie. The others? Standard 'go jump up Andraste's ass' letter. Social events - typical excuse about too busy. I'll let you handle Worthy however you like so long as it translates to 'no'."
Hawke nodded. "I'll have to leave the requisitions to you; I don't know your business that well. And ... threaten the one who compared my eyes to lyrium veins with Fenris. That could be good for getting him to stop playing that bloody lute outside my window. The rest ... you know the drill."
"No, no and a thousand times no. Not even the wyvern hunting? Sounds like your kind of thing."
"...Orlesians. And I'm not having Duke Prosper de Up-Himself dribbling over me again."
Varric nodded, conceding the point, and they exchanged signet rings before taking another fortifying swig of wine and getting to work. Then Varric looked up from Hawke's mail and said, "With that many requisition forms? I think I win."
"No way," Hawke replied, not even looking up from her own piles of paperwork. "You know the points system. Anything to do with Orlesians nets a hundred points before it's even read."
"I'll get you next time, Hawke."
Paperwork, they had discovered, was a lot more fun when it wasn't their own they were handling.
Say Anything
"I don't know what to say, but ... I am here."
"Just ... say something; anything."
In the moment it took him to answer, so many options flashed through Fenris' mind.
Your strength and fortitude inspire me; your lack of bitterness humbles me. Your grace when faced with strife and slurs shames me. I am not deserving of what you have given me and I would hold you, were I still permitted. I am a fool; a fool, and twice a fool, and a million times a fool for pretending that the taste of my own bitter heart is somehow better than the crow that I would be obliged to eat to return to your side. Forgive me for leaving that night. Forgive me, and let me give you comfort even as I take it, even with the memory and pain that may come with the taking...
But he looked at her face and knew that now was not by any means the time. He could be bitter, overly proud and unapproachable ... but he could not be so selfish as to broach this at such a vulnerable moment.
Instead, so unsure and tripping over the words he longed to say, Fenris stammered, "They ... say that death is but a journey. Does that help?"
He cursed himself for a fool yet again when it clearly didn't help them - either of them - at all.
In other news, slept badly, still lurgified, and am getting horrified over on Tumblr about the whole deal about The Mists of Pandaria. If they're going to give us a playable race of Kung-Fu Pandas, they could at least try to throw a spin on it somewhere. Tauren have Mulgore, Worgen have Gilneas, and Pandarens have ... Pandaria. And there are to be pet battles. I subscribed to Warcraft, not Pokemon. *sigh* The expansions have gone "Azeroth -> beating back demons in Outland -> beating back the pissed-off undead in Northrend -> beating back a pain-maddened warder of the earth itself with the entire world cracking under one's feet -> ...pandas and pokeballs", so maybe I shouldn't be surprised this is a letdown.
Now, lemme just crawl back under my duvet and die for a couple of days.
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no subject
Date: 2011-10-27 11:19 am (UTC)And I wouldn't be surprised if they take out the pokemon thing. There was supposed to be this new levelling/customization system released in Cata called The Walk of the Titans or something....and it never came to be. Maybe Blizz will hear all the complaining and ditch it.
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Date: 2011-10-27 11:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-27 05:29 pm (UTC)