A white halla wearing a belled harness coughs up a wax-sealed bit of parchment. A stocking stuffer! Hurrah! It’s recipient is named as Biancalovescheese
Unrolloing the parchment, it bears a title:
Title: Junk of the Heart
Rating: FLUFF AND SILLINESS
Junk of the Heart
“And you’re positive this will work?” Alistair sounded dubious, he hardly trusted the assassin’s supposed oath of loyalty, after all, so why would he trust the Antivan in a matter as important as this? A fine question, why was he trusting this man? Apart from the fact that he was utterly hopeless when it came to this sort of thing. Alistair had already asked Wynne and gotten a lecture about his “Duties as a Grey Warden”—he knew what his duties were! There had never been a time, in fact, when Alistair hadn’t understood what his duties were. Redcliffe, the Templars, the Wardens, his whole life had been about duty and responsibility, he didn’t need to hear it from the old mage!
Leliana wasn’t any easier to talk to. Her effusive talk of romance and her expressive storytelling only served to make Alistair feel uncomfortable and inadequate. How was he supposed to compare to the suave and masterly lovers in her tales when he was more like the awkward pup from The Littlest Mabari, all big awkward feet, an excitable nature, and the inability to form coherent sentences? No, Leliana could not help him either.
He didn’t even think of asking Morrigan.
Even if Alistair felt up for the verbal abuse at the hands of the venemous apostate, he wouldn’t have asked her anyways. Morrigan’s idea of romance probably involved luring a hapless innocent to slaughter and then wooing the intended party by giving the victim’s skin as a rug.
And if the stories she told about the ‘games’ she played with her mother were true, Alistair suspected that this wasn’t far off from the truth.
Well, begging and choosing never went hand in hand, so Alistair swallowed his pride, dignity, and sanity, and asked Zevran for advice.
The Antivan clapped him on the back with a broad smile, “You are too untrusting, mi amigo! This technique has worked for me countless times. If you like, I could regale you of the time I won over the Archduchess of Cumberland with this very—” Alistair held up a hand to stop him.
“No! No, that’s.. that’s quite all right, thanks,” the one-time Templar coughed. “It just seems a bit too.. easy that’s all. It really only takes these two steps?”
The one-time Crow gave him a winning smile and the brotherly hand on Alistair’s shoulder started to slide lower, “My dear Warden, you do not understand. Such desires are natural! It is the easiest thing in the world to want to show affection, no?” Alistair squawked as Zevran goosed him cheekily.
“Hey! R-right. If you say so. I guess I better go get what I need then,” Alistair frowned and went into his tent to gather the necessary materials for his plan.
“Er, Mudaste, might I have a moment?” Alistair swallowed as his fellow Warden lifted her head and looked his way. He felt incredibly stupid, but relieved as she set down her weapons and whetstone and approached him.
“Yes Alistair? What is it you want?” Maker, how was a man supposed to think under the gaze of those sharp green eyes?
“Er, this way, come… I mean, would you come this way? I thought we could have a brief word in private,” Alistair could feel his palms getting sweaty as he led her away from camp.
They stopped a short distance away, far enough that they had a decent amount of privacy without completely abandoning the campsite. Mudaste fixed the man with a silent stare, brows raised in expectancy.
“Er, right. You—you’re always picking up things and… giving them to us, so I thought.. I thought maybe you’d .. er.. I thought—I got you this present. As.. in thanks, for the stuff you’ve given me. Thought it would be… fair,” Alistair thrust a small box at her, with a hole roughly carved out of the top.
Mudaste raised one of her thin red brows and peeked inside, the moonlight and starlight illuminating part of the box’s contents.
The inside was littered with detritus of all kinds. A bit of mabari crunch, a worn sock, a dewclaw, the fragment of a darkspawn tooth, a cracked and empty bottle, an arrowhead, a frayed bowstring, a raven feather, a cracked Templar insignia… Mudaste looked up at Alistair, a rather unamused expression on her face.
The other Warden swallowed nervously. Blight take that tricky elf! He was going to get her to assassinate him! Mudaste threw the box back at him, “Is this a joke? Are you making fun of me!?”
Alistair whimpered and flinched as the box struck him, “Z-Zevran said to, he told me—”
“Keep your garbage!” Mudaste rolled her eyes and stormed back over to camp with an irritated growl of ‘Shemlen’ as she walked away.
Alistair toed the offending box with a sigh, “I knew he wasn’t telling the truth. ‘Step one: cut a hole in the box….’ Tch. What was I thinking?” The man shook his head and headed back towards the campfire.
In the shadows, there was an exchange of coin—Zevran cursing as he gave Morrigan her silvers. “Bah! I knew I should have told him that story!”
The apostate smirked cruelly, “I told you he was too simple to understand such euphemisms.” She stowed the money safely away and headed off to her own tent, cackling loudly into the night.
Oops I meant to say that she threw the box at him hahaha. Oh well. Glad you liked it<3 <3 <3 I promise to write a REAL story tho and get a bit of arting done, secret santa. My life is just sort of… insane right now XD :\ At this precise moment in time.