nogoldenmirror | ic contact for acatalepsy

Indeed.

[Tell her sometime, Barabas. You know you'll want to. (How do you think Alistair gets his hair that way? Sleep? Pah!)]

I don't need luck. [She smiles a bit.] I was raised in a swamp. Though the sentiment is appreciated.

[She got this, shapeshifter bro. Sure enough, the next day there will be a bottle by his door labeled as such along with a note with the words "Seeing is believing. -M"]

[If only he knew!!

But that response has him grinning. Even if it can't be seen, it's audible in his voice.]

Skill does trump luck.

[Also. You know. Casually,] ...a swamp?

[Perhaps one day, he shall.

She notes the grin in his voice and a wild light dances in her eyes. ...it's one of the few times she's been vaguely praised that didn't involve murder and she appreciates it regardless.

And, given there is no need for the visual, she switches back to voice to match. Morrigan's getting slightly better at this technology thing. ...Slightly.]

In most cases, though having luck seldom counts for naught.

[Honestly, the amount of times her boyfriend would have died if he didn't have both... tsk tsk.]

Why, yes. [She doesn't even pause.] Where do you think someone dressed like I do would live? A city? One would stick out like a giant among dwarves. Not to mention the hazard to my health.

[If only she knew what the future holds...]

You know, that is a point.

[Really. He has seen luck play both ways -- good and bad.

But. Huh. Sorry, Morrigan. He's considering it and laughing a bit. Giant among dwarves, huh? All right yes that would be a contrast.]

Honestly, your fashion sense would fit in just fine with certain populations in the city I call home. If you add an appropriate soundtrack.

I tend to have a few.

[More than a few. Barbs, at least. Though her eyebrow raises unseen at the laugh.]

Perhaps, but in my country of origin there are seldom any who do not wear the standard tunic, long skirt, and shoes... unless they add a leather corset or are affiliated with nobility or the Chantry.

Aah. Well yes, very different. I imagine most of the tunic-and-skirt world would be scandalized by a good deal of the fashion from mine.

[Modern teenagers would scandalize many of the old sword and sorcery worlds. Actually he thinks it'd be a great deal of fun to witness, but that tells you a lot about how terrible his sense of humor is.]

One would assume nearly as much as one walking into a meeting with nobility dressed in the wrong colors for the season.

[She'd pay to see it. No, really. She would. It'd be hilarious.]

No, that's terribly serious. White-after-Labor Day serious.

[But he can't even keep a straight face about it, can't quite keep the serious tone in his voice, no matter how he tries.]

In any case, I am... very pleased to know that you've made it back with your self and sense of humor intact.

..Labor Day?

[She just can't help asking. (They both tried.)]

As am I to see that some of yours has remained as well. Though mine has always been on the more macabre side...

[All the times she tried making a few jokes among her fellow companions for them to fall flat. Sigh.]

Holiday in my country, right at the beginning of autumn.

[He cracks another smile.]

Nothing wrong with a bit of dark humor. It's something of an art form really.

[HE gets it, Morrigan. He really does.]

Indeed. One would think a few would get it, what with the Dismemberment Tuesday jokes.

[And she's quite serious about that one.]

Hm, that would be about the time of All Soul's Day, if my observations of village customs is correct.

[What's celebrating holidays. She just doesn't know.]

Tuesdays are always rough.

[Barabas agrees solemnly.]

That sounds right. I think we may even have one of those ourselves. Or some church or another does. [He waves a hand.] Church isn't exactly my thing.

[At all.]

They are indeed. Though not quite nearly as terrible as Mondays.

[A solemn nod, before she's fighting off the kind of smirk that shows a bit of teeth.]

What a coincidence. 'Tis not mine, either.

[Barabas. She gave two templars apoplexy just by walking into the door of one. It was great.]

Nowhere near.

[His grin can't quite be hidden. Oh well.]

I'd never have guessed.

[Now he's just teasing. ...though yeah honestly he'd have loved to see that.]

[They both made valiant attempts.]

'Tis not as though I didn't make it obvious.

[Two can play the teasing game. Maybe if there's another sequence of dreamscape shenanigans.]

No, not remotely obvious. You radiate devout and churchgoing.

[A laugh and he shakes his head.]

I can't even explain how well you would fit in with the clan I grew up in.

[He's comparing her to a bouda which is a compliment, at least for him. ...though he also thinks that Morrigan would give Andrea a heart attack so.]

Were Alistair or Leliana here, I believe they'd suffer from apoplexy at the thought.

[She cackles at the thought. Ah, they'd have it coming honestly. Though that comment earns a raised eyebrow.]

Oh? [...Considering that is the first or second time anyone has said she'd fit in anywhere, she'll take it as the compliment it is meant as.] Dare I ask?

The Pack is made up of several clans: Cat, Wolf, Rat, Heavy, Nimble, Jackal, and Bouda. Even if my beast shape followed my father's and not my mother's before Astoria meddled, I was raised in clan Bouda. We're... rather the pack of misfits. We have our own ideas about things and see no reason to simply fall in line. Where's the interest in that? We're also the only pack that runs along matriarchal lines. And we have a tendency not to care what others may think.

[A shrug of his shoulder.] We're bound by Pack law and rules, but we approach them on our terms. ...and we have a tendency to be quite lethal if we're threatened. [He smiles at this, pleasantly enough.]

For my part, even if my beast shape would normally belong in Clan Nimble -- and even if my sexuality complicated matters further -- I've never regretted my choice to remain with my mother's clan.

[Nope, totally not taking notes on this at all. Perish the thought. She's fascinated; hush.]

Were my mother not an isolationist, she would have adored that. [Matriarchy ftw, though that makes her wonder.] Let me guess. You prefer men and it is either frowned upon or seen as competition.

[She'll never get why that's a thing, but then... what's social graces in general? Are they edible?]

You have it exactly. More that it was competition, and despite being competition, I had no place in nor desire to be part of the struggle up the clan hierarchy. I would never be an alpha, and I wouldn't even wish to.

[He's happier with the road he's taken.] I'm fortunate to have found another path. I work directly for the Beast Lord and his Consort. ...more is consort. And I lead the Pack legal department. It keeps me somewhat out of individual clan politics.

Ah, politics... [Guess who also wants to stay out of it, though is thoroughly interested despite the civil war? Akvos only exasperated said stance.]

While my knowledge of human society is... lacking for want of a better term, it only seems to matter for nobility in Ferelden. Dwarves are still backwards and follow a caste system of sorts. It came as a shock that their only then-living Paragon preferred women. Especially to her drunkard of a widower.

[And you bet your ass she rubbed it in his face after all the insipid and ridiculous comments.]

Edited 2019-02-16 09:21 (UTC)

Politics are... messy. Complicated. Occasionally they have their uses.

[He is good at them, when he wants to be. He has a knack for it, for understanding people and figuring out their motivations. It's all a puzzle to be put together. But he's also seen the toll it can take.]

Well, I don't know what a Paragon is, but I'm not sure I can fault her preference.

[Drunkard of a widower isn't all that flattering after all.]

Occasionally. [She'll give him that one.] Though often the more direct approach works just as well.

"Living ancestor" according to them. They venerate those who came before them; that is all I ever could understand of their culture. [At least it beats the Chantry, in some ways. Others she side-eyes hard.] Nor can I. He joined our merry little traveling band and, as predicted, was either drunk or reaching for a bottle after a stupor.

[Or hitting on her while her love was right. there.]

Very interesting.

[Not like much of anything he's heard of before.

But well, the next bit of information has him nodding in understanding.]

You do sound like you traveled with quite the... assortment.

Oh, you have no idea.

[If she ever comes across the ~~codex entries~~ information again, she'll share it with him. As it is...]

I was the first to join the Wardens' little entourage, sent with them by my mother. Alistair, the senior of the pair, bucked at any opportunity to lead and deferred to the new recruit. Said recruit got imprinted upon by a dog not long after we set out.

Sten, a qunari -- giant with horns -- has even less of an idea on how to function in human society than I do and is hyperfocused on the finish line that he stumbles into the obstacles. He also had no idea what cookies were. We were all offended by this as much as he glared at the three mages and commented on how not sewing our lips shut was "not civilized".

[Yes, Barabas. You heard that right.]

Leliana was a laysister in the Chantry- [And by that definition, they got along like cats and dogs.] -and a former bard--minstrel and spy in another country. Wynne is a Circle mage, and every bit the suffocating want-to-be mother figure of the entire group. Zevran is an assassin who tried to kills us and failed. Shale is a golem who has a vendetta against pigeons. Also one of the few tolerable members of the group.

Then there's Oghren, the charming little drunkard. [Such sarcasm much eye roll wow. But her tone softens perhaps a little too much.] ...and Amell.

ic contact for acatalepsy_rpg

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cw: slight body horror

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