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Aveline/Merril, nonsexual fluff with flower crowns.
Aveline peeked over the crest. A Tal-vashoth camp lay below, the great horned men pacing around, on guard or in boredom. She spotted Hawke across the way, and nodded silently.
Waiting for a signal, she nearly jumped out of her armour when a soft pressure, like hundreds of tiny legs, pressed around her scalp. She had enough self-discipline not to shout, but swiftly slapped her hand to her hair, only to find a flower crown slipping off around her fingers.
"Merrill!" she hissed.
"I’m sorry!" whispered Merrill. "I had too much elfroot. I filled my purse, so I had to put it somewhere."
Aveline opened her mouth to reprimand the elf, but Merrill already had three interlocking strands of the broad leaves wrapped around her head, so she restricted herself to glaring and holding a finger up to her lips.
AN: Goddammit I need to get better at describing sensations. I am the Queen of Dialog, but can’t describe physical feelings, tastes, etc, worth a shit. YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE WRITING SEXYTIEMS NOT A MOTHER-IN-LAW GAG!
Excerpt: “She hummed to herself as she worked, her face looking like a fine lady relaxing with a spot of baking, but her body covered in bite marks among the freckles. Her loose hair tickled his knees.”
He had been aimless.
He had drifted from place to place with no thought beyond survival. And now he was free to turn his mind to other things, to find a purpose beyond running and hiding and surviving.
Fenris could think of a thousand places he would rather be than Kirkwall. He could have taken to the seas with Isabela, riding the waves and smelling the salt air and feeling the sun kiss his face. He could have gone north, back to Seheron and the people who had cared for him so many years before. He could have made for Antiva or Rivain, let himself put down roots somewhere warm and humid and lovely.
AVERIS FIC FTW
"The Viscount’s office has announced a crackdown on vice." Aveline took a long pull on her stout and pressed her lips together to wipe off the foam. Beside her, Fenris spread out his hand to prepare for his next move.
"Ooh, that sounds fun. Will it be like the last crackdown where hundreds of innocent elves got shaken down and publicly humiliated, slowing the vice trade by exactly zero percent?" For a happy-go-lucky brigand, Isabela could be quite the agitator. Something unreadable flickered across the elf’s face, then he showed his hand - a Witch’s Coven.
"Where the hell were you hiding that?!!" howled Isabela, as Fenris collected his winnings.
"In my smallclothes," the elf replied blandly.
Why do i do this to myself.
Dwarven coffee house. It is almost midnight. They are the only human and elf inside in a small crowd. Aveline leans over the counter to chat with the barista, a young dwarven woman. Anso steps out from the kitchen, wearing an apron and ready to assume the current barista’s shift. On sight of Aveline, he double takes, then visibly resigns himself to her conversation.
Anso: Not you again.
Aveline: Hello, Anso. Behaving yourself this time?
Anso: Certainly, guard captain. Oh, come on, don’t look at me like that. You can’t blame a dwarf for trying.
Aveline: I certainly can when he’s trying to smuggle lyrium. Back to the slightly more politic usual coffee bean trade, I see.
Anso: Might not be as lucrative, but it’s nearly as addictive and so much better for my heart—- (Fenris steps out from behind Aveline, casually. Anso cuts off abruptly. He tries to keep his expression bland and fails.) Hello. Ah. And, um. What can I get for you two tonight?
Fenris: Double espresso.
Aveline: (smiles at Fenris fondly) Planning on staying up tonight, are you?
Fenris: (lowers lashes, gives her a smouldering look) If I can help it.
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