Slacking in the Wardens' Home

((Events happen after Regrets in Wardens' Home))

The Templar order often made the younger initiates ones clean pots, pans as a punishment. But they were given daily chores such as mopping the floors or scrubbing out the latrine buckets. But those children from wealthier and more notable families were often shown a bit of favoritism. And such Kestral never had to get on his hands and knees and scrub the floors. Most of the time he simply tided up the library or a commander's desk.

Perhaps that is why he stuck to the library now. Not really pouring over books for any other reason than he wasn't interested in putting the Vigil back together for the sake of the Wardens.

It had been a good few hours since he rose and came to moldy pages bound in leather. Earlier there was the soft sound of an approach, barefoot if his ears did him well, but by the time he looked up the sound was rushing away from the library and a quick flash of blonde locks fled through the door.

His sister was with in reach. The object of his pure hatred and his constant test of devotion to the Maker. Oh Maker he would love to just rip her tiny elven body into little pieces like the trash she was. It was a waste of resources to allow her to stay, to allow all the elves a safe haven.

But he would not dare cross the Wardens. The Grand Cleric would skin his hide if he were to harm them, and he would be fighting an army without the devine to back him. He had faith in his fighting, but numbers out weigh skill.

And thus he would avoid his murderous temptation, and pour over the dull novels and war books.

Fremelda was exploring the Keep, since she had seen but little of it so far. She had looked around at the objects the Darkspawn didn't destroy in their invasion. This eventually led her to the Keep's library, she could smell the musty books and let out a sigh. She could barely read, herself, having been uneducated due to spending most of her childhood in her brother's shadow or in a brothel against her will.

The Queen of Thorns spotted a Templar in the library, and grit her teeth. Chantry types were always so stubborn and self righteous. She didn't approve of them and had even killed a Revered Mother in Denerim some years ago. Still, she strode in defiantly, looking about the place as she continued her tour.

Now where was that room he was looking for? It must be somewhere around here

*You don't need any.*

"I do too!" He snapped at Fluffy Flumpkins. The demon groaned every time he used that name but he must have liked it otherwise he'd have told him a real name or at least been smart enough to give him a made up name. Now he was stuck with it whether he liked it or not.

*It will dampen any training ...*

"I don't want to train. I want to ... oh." Maghai skimmed the shadows as he noticed Fremelda walking into a room. He followed her slowly then ghosted his way to where she was walking and jumped into her arms - or rather at her from almost directly in front of her to wrap his arms tightly around her, "Fremelda! I missed you so much! I didn't know where you went and any time I asked anyone they would shrug like they didn't know or didn't care or was it that they just couldn't care that I was asking but that's silly since everyone likes me and that would not be right that someone wouldn't like me because I have such a sunny disposition and I really wanted to find you so I don't understand why no one would help."

He continued hugging her like a bear with a tasty toy.

*Ok you can keep doing that. It feels good.*

"Yes it does feel good. You have soft, cuddly boobs, Fremelda. They're nicer than Alistair's man boobs. Oh hi mister templar! Did you want to come check out Fremelda's boobs? Believe me they are worth a feel."

Kestrals eyes lazily scanned the words on the page, he did not look up when he heard the approch of a person (shoed this time), but knew they were there. He had little faith in the companions of the wardens, almost as little faith as he held in the wardens himself. And as long as they did not present themselves as a threat, they would be ignored.

And it was the approach of more feet that brought his head up. An elf, of course. A disgusting display of his heritage.

"The woman has breasts, as all women do. They are nothing special about his one woman over another elf. If nothing else, she has them covered which puts her above the common whores who sell their bodies on the streets, displaying their product for all to see and partake in their sin. The Maker made them, but their bodies are not what he truly crafted, it is their souls that make them. So no filfth, I do not wish to touch the woman. She is the Makers and he should be hers."

It had sounded preachy, and made little sense. But it was what he believed. Women (at least human women) should not be exploited for the mere enjoyment of the sinful. And those who sold their bodies were to be pittied for they did not know of what else they could take from the world.

The Templar was bad enough. And now Maghai appeared and effectively tried to squeeze the air out of the assassin's lungs. She glared heatedly down at the elf she despised so much. Furious at Maghai's incessant ranting, she desperately wanted to stick a knife in his gut, but she knew that the Warden Commander would not approve of it, so she stayed her hand. Then he went and spoke about her breasts, but she didn't flinch, blush or cringe from the conversation, quite jaded and comfortable with her appearance.

"Let go of me, Maghai, or I'll cut your arms off." she sneered. Then she turned her venomous look towards the Templar preaching at her and Maghai. "Mind your words, Templar. I was one of them, when I was a child. I had no choice in the matter to become a whore, I was captured and sold into slavery at ten, then spent the next seven years on my back, making all the right noises till I won my freedom by killing a client.

"And your Maker can go shove hot coals up his ass. The Spirits are what protect people, they have a vested interest in the lives of their living kinsman, not some all-seeing old man on a throne."

Maghai let go of Fremelda just as she started to tell him to and looked at her with big, blue puppy dog eyes. He was as bad as his sister with the cute looks and a huge smile like a child's. Then the templar spoke and he cocked his head to the side wondering what this person was trying to say.

*He's trying to say she's not special and that she's tainted goods. Think of it, Maghai. He thinks she's lower than dirt for her background. Hear her? She was a whore. She was forced to be one and this man, if that's what you want to call a templar, think's she's less than pig dung*

The elf listened to Fremelda and started to feel an anger. It was not like Maghai to feel so angry at a person but when Fremelda finished a knife flicked out onto the table in front of the Templar and he actually growled, glaring at the man, his voice low in his throat, "Fremelda is a special person and you won't call her less than that. Go preach to your god and live your sheltered life under his hatred."

With a turn, Maghai went for another door, "Common Fremelda. This fool isn't worth your breath."

Kestral snorted to the reply he got from the red-head. "You say it as if you were proud for your trade. There is a difference between slaves and whores. Whores have a choice in the matter. If you were forced to it then the sin lies on the souls of your captors, not you. And I preach not, I leave such things to the Mothers. I merely stated women should not be exploited in such a way. You, elf, were the one who put your hands on her in such a familiar way, and she was discontent with it."

He stood up, chain-mail making light little clinks with the movement, sounding like little rain drops on a window. "And you yourself contradict your own words. To have lived such a life and believe your ancestors or spirits are watching over you for protection then you would not have suffered so. If they guide you then why is the world full of filth like this elf here? Why are children stolen from bed, forced to watch their parent's throats slit and then forced to kill, whore, and steal for their masters? These men are bad, and the darkspawn are worse. These are our punishments for the pursuit of power above all else. You say you do not believe in the Maker, yet you believe in the fade, and spirits."

Of course the day couldn't be as nice as it had been the whole morning. After disposing about the darkspawn remains and organizing the remaining soldiers into keeping an eye on the prisoner mage, and patrolling the yards, Bowen had thought a rest was well needed. Even deserved. Maker, all he wanted was a quick nap somewhere. He was tired and sore, but still kept going until he did every little task he could think, trying to get things done before Nygozy had to worry about them.

And then, while he was on his way to the kitchen, to eat something and then go for a nap, he heard some angry voices from the library. At first he didn't recognize any of them, but Maghai's singular voice made him chuckle. Ok, the crazy elf boy was there. Charming. And for what he said, he was saying something about 'cuddly boobs'. His grin grew wider. Oh man that could be priceless, if he could only know who...

And then he knew, and laughed listening to Fremelda's angry voice. But his smile disappeared when Kestral started 'preaching', and the Nevarran frowned while opening the door. His enormous frame covered the whole doorway, and looked with obvious disapproval at the Templar.

''If I ever hear you say 'elf' with such disdain and hate, Kestral, I must warn you that I'll kick your sorry ass until you learn some manners'' He stated angrily. ''I'm not asking you to like elves, but you will respect them, with your acts and your words, or you and I will have a problem. And I'll advise you to have some manners with the ladies as well, young man''

She sneered at the Templar, but was slightly caught off guard by Maghai's suddenly defending her. Why? "I can fight my own battles, Maghai. I don't need your help." she glowered at the elf. Seriously miffed from the ribbing the Templar was giving her, she lashed back at him. "I hated my old job, Templar. You have no idea. But, I have respect for slaves and those who live in the gutters, as I have had to do. I earned my freedom. I fought for every scrap of money I made. The Chantry did not help during that entire time.

"I don't see the Maker helping others. He just sits on His throne all day and sleeps on the job. The only reason I've had a bad hand in life is because my ancestors are all psychopathic mass murderers. Sometimes they help, sometimes they don't. And do not lecture me on spirits not existing, because I have seen the Fade, and they do." She snarled, fists clenched tightly.

And then she heard footsteps behind her, and she turned her glare to the new arrival, but visibly cooled seeing it was Bowen. She respected her fellow Warden, though they barely spoke more than a few words to each other in her months among the Wardens. "If you don't kill him, Bowen, I will. I've killed Chantry types before, I can do it again."

"But ... you're so pretty I like to help." He whimpered, not realizing why she'd not want help.

Once again the Templar had Maghai at a disadvantage as he spoke. He was unsure of what in the world he was talking about with all of this ancestors and blaming others for his suffering. He tilted his head and a brow rose like a curious dog's, "Oh! I know what you're talking about now!" He suddenly yelped with a smile and back to that childish attitude which was quite normal to see from him, "That's what the Keeper kept talking about our ancestors! No no. We didn't suffer. The traveling was nice and I was able to see a lot of interesting people on the roads and in the cities. I don't know where anyone gets this suffering from. Maybe our ancestors suffered but we didn't until the plague."

Even when he said "plague" the man did not seem to gather the full meaning or his brain did not go back to the reality of the word. No he would not allow himself to remember that. It was a happy time after all. He found Fremelda and they were going to hang out together, oh yes they would. She was so pretty and nice.

"But you were wrong when you said, 'They are nothing special about his one woman over another' because there is. She's Fremelda and she's special. I know it. I can feel it. But not through her boobs."

Then Bowen showed up and Maghai smiled widely, "Bowen! You're done with dead stuff?"

Kestral felt like he could just not win with this group. He was all too use to the optition to the views he shared with his chantry. But even his small attempt to defend the sensibility of a woman was met with optition from all, even the woman. Although he was perhaps a bit racist, and a bit anti-Semitic, he still was honorable (perhaps not in matters that involved his sister). "I will not stand by and listen too you not only question me, but question the Maker. You may not like me, but I was sent here to lend my aid.

With that said he stood up, pushing the book to the side of the table and sliding his chair back underneath. "I find it troublesome to be if your presence as much as you seem to find it to be in mine, so I will bid you good day."

Maghai wrote:"Bowen! You're done with dead stuff?"

''Maybe not yet'' Bowen grunted, glaring at Kestrel, but soon he relaxed.

''Boy, the only thing we ask is that living all together is not more difficult than it is already. I'm not able to change the way you see things and believe them, all I can ask from you is to keep your... unkind thoughts for yourself and try to be civilized among the others. We are a colorful party, and we'd love to live in peace''

Satisfied with his own speech, he turned to Fremelda and playfully wiggled a finger just under her nose, smirking. ''And you, my lady, please refrain of questioning or mocking other people's faiths. We are all condemned to live together. Just imagine if someone more pious insisted on having a morning service, everyday! We should respect each other, just that''

Fremelda felt her face fall into her hand at Maghai's incessant prattling. She then took a deep, purging breath before the Templar stormed off, leaving Bowen to lecture her. Her eyes met the Navarran's for a moment. "I don't like Chantry types, Bowen. At all." she said with a sigh. "I am not going to cave by being nice to them."

Maghai stood on one foot then the other blissfully unaware of what really was going on. The whispers in his mind got louder and louder for him to listen but he was too busy bouncing from foot to foot to really care what the demon was saying. He started to hum then sang, "La la la la lalala laaaaaa la la, lala aaaaaha la la la."

Once Fremelda stopped speaking he looked up and tilted his head to the side then hopped between the two left and put an arm over Bowen's and Fremelda's shoulders. It looked silly with him hanging between them, "So what should we do now? I know where we can get some really good wine that I found down in the cellars. It is really good but don't try to drink right out of the barrel. That doesn't work too well because you almost drown that way and that's not good. But the cave down there is interesting too. I think I saw some herbs Jezarine uses for her strong meds and they are good stuff. Yup. Oh and there's the garden but if you play in there Jez gets mad."

Bowen smiled, a blond eyebrow arched. ''I guess you already had your part of wine, young man. Maybe some training could do some good for you''

It was amusing seeing the skinny elf hanging from their shoulders. Bowen passed Fremelda's head for another head or two, so Maghai's position was awkward to say the least.

Suddenly, he grabbed the elf's hand and pulled him to his back, so he piggybacked him just as if the elf was a kid. That way he could set Fremelda free from the crazy guy. ''Alright then, let's find something to do. Not that there's nothing to do in this Keep'' He snorted, and lifting Fremelda's hand, kissed the back of it with a smug grin. ''That way maybe you'll stop thinking murderous thoughts about the local poblation of crazy and weird people''

And just like that, Maghai was dangling off her and Bowen's shoulders. The height difference made it almost comical. Fremelda was neither tall nor short, but Bowen towered over everyone in camp but The Tamassran. And that guy was unbelievably tall for a Qunari. The assassin grit her teeth again in annoyance but she listened to Maghai's words all the same. "A drink. Yes... I could use a drink." she said distantly, and then Bowen picked up Maghai and piggybacked him, which caused an eyebrow to raise on the Denerim Assassin.

Then Bowen kissed her hand, and Fremelda stood dumbstruck for a moment. Then she grinned. [color=steelblue]"Tsk tsk, Navarran. What would Caterina say, you putting the charm on another woman?" she then shrugged her shoulders. "Murderous thoughts are just about all I have, Ser Bowen. Admittedly, I'm not very social. I guess we could try the mess hall?" she mused.

((*pokes her head shyly into the forum* Hello, everyone... Any room for another slacker?))

“The firstfold time that I would die was oh so long ago…”

Cellars around the world tended to differ by design. Some, like the cramped storehouses of many a Denerim inn, were stuffed full of barrels stacked to the ceiling with no rhyme or reason other than the whim of the establishment’s keeper. Others bore more resemblance to a library: long, slender shelves that formed corridor after corridor organised by year rather than genre. But the cellar at Vigil’s Keep had a certain quality that Sophia had rarely seen, one that she adored.

It had acoustics.

“…I met a girl in tower grim with hair as white as snow…”

It hadn’t taken her long to claim the space for her own. A few wards here, a rent in the air there, just enough to let the perfume of the Fade seep into the atmosphere. By the time she was done, tiny witch-lights danced between barrels, singing soft symphonies that made the walls of the cellar… twist… whenever they floated by, the moss-covered stones gleaming like diamonds in the darkness whenever they thought no-one was looking at them too carefully. All that remained to be done was to scrape off the moss, hang a few tapestries here and there… perhaps ask the Mistress whether or not she might consider installing a dumbwaiter from the kitchen to the cellars… maybe a few bookshelves as well, if not an entire library... And a fireplace, of course. Building a suitable chimney could be a problem, but as an associate of the Warden-Commander, surely it wouldn’t be too much of a hassle for her to acquire the services of a good engineer…?

“… we shared our dreams we shared our love, our hearts they flew so high…”

Sophia paused in her musings, her eye caught by a bevy of witchlights clustering around a rack at the far end of the chamber. Bottles gleamed, stacked in rows.
Wine. Ah, the wine. That deserved special consideration.

“… but then the Templars drew their swords and left me there to cry.”

Personally, the Smiling Princess thought that the act of amassing a cellar-full of wine, only to lock it away never to be touched again, was nothing short of ridiculous. No matter how much emphasis their owners placed on how delicious their treasures might be if they were ever one day uncorked, the fact remained that they were still essentially wasting their collection. It was akin to keeping a library that would never be read. Wine only lived when it was drunk, when each tiny nuance of taste was coaxed forth individually by the loving touch of a drinker’s palate then released, blending into a glorious cacophony of flavours that practically melted on the tongue. And if that life happened to end the moment the bottle was drained…

“Oh, I wailed for that love of mine! My Crystal, tears did flow…”

… then it was all the more reason to bring on that end sooner rather than later. A short life lived to the full was always more rewarding than one spent in stasis. In fact, the latter couldn’t really be called a life in the first place. A half-life, perhaps. Not a ‘living death.’ That was far too dramatic, even for a bottle of wine.

Slender fingers pulled, twisted. In the silence, the aromatic pop of the escaping cork sounded like a funeral bell, causing Fade-touched bottles and barrels to huddle close in the darkness, as if afraid that they might be next.

“I sent them all right down to Hell: my death, it sealed the door…”

Snapping her fingers on the beat, Sophia laughed as the witch-lights danced, throwing off a whirlpool of multicoloured shadows that spun in mid-air, gaining weight, mass, form. Moments later a full table-setting for one, complete with wine-goblet, silver-plate and candelabra, settled gently on the top of an upturned barrel. The goblet refused to settle on a single colour, but that didn’t matter so much: at least it had held its shape this time, and the leftover Dreamstuff still clinging to the outside might even improve the taste of the wine.

“… and then I rose up from the dead to seek my love once more.”

Pouring herself a modest measure, Sophia settled herself atop another barrel she had chosen as a makeshift chair, crossing her legs daintly. There were so many people that she wanted to see… little Fremelda, her Thief of Hearts, the Warden-Commander she still called Mistress, but all that could wait. For now, she was content to sit in her cellar and listen until she felt ready to reveal herself. After all, she had been… away for the past few weeks, and it simply wouldn’t be polite for any performer to reclaim her place on the stage until she was sure that she knew all of her lines.
But still…

Sophia sighed, letting the last echoes of her song fade away.

“… polite society aside… it’s no fun to drink alone.”

Still holding her goblet between her fingers, Sophia slipped out of her new Sanctum, making sure that her wards were as secure as the mundane lock she shut firmly behind her. On the very edge of her senses, beyond the heady scent of the Fade leaking under the cellar door, she could just make out the delicious scent of roasting meat wafting down from the mess hall. Closing her eyes, Sophia set out in pursuit, following her nose.

"No not wine yet!" Maghai pouted when Bowen announced what he had thought the elf had already been into but it was actually probably the mushrooms he'd had to vomit up when Fluffy Frumpkins informed him that they were poisonous. The demon could have at least told him before he ate them!

*I had no idea that you would eat those, you stupid bugger!* The demon snapped in his head, *I thought you were only looking.* Watching out for what the stupid elf would and would not try to consume had become almost a full time job and the demon figured Maghai must have eaten or drank something that made him dense. Then again, after all the alcohol and drugs the thing had gotten into probably removed most of it's brain cells.

Maghai rolled his eyes just before Bowen pulled him up on his back for a piggy back ride and he squealed in joy, "Bowen! Whee Bowen horsie!"

He could almost feel Fluffy rubbing his virtual temples.

"So ... where are we going Bowen horsie? The mess hall?" Maghai considered this quickly as he tried to figure out if he would like to go there then figured out there was food, "Food yes! Maybe music so Fremmy and I can dance!"

(Hope no one minds Maddox joining in)

Maddox was walking down a hall holding a letter that was delivered to him earlier. He opened the letter and began reading it. After the first line he stopped in his tracks.

Dear Maddox,
I have been informed of you being sighted in Amaranthine. More specifically Vigil's Keep. I've been a bit out of the loop in regards to you as of late, but I know you've expressed interest in the Wardens. Since that news also places you in the same locale the Warden Commander currently resides, I'll go out on a leap of faith and assume my wife now has priority over you in regards to succession.

Personally, congratulations. I know father would be proud. Provided the new Arlessa allows, I'd like to see you in person. I know Maximus misses his brother about as much as I miss you. You know where I live, so I better get a reply out of you.

Always, your brother
Bann Daren.

Maddox held back a laugh that Daren was keeping tabs on him. Daren reminded him of something he meant to do. He began picturing the stack of letters he has forgot to send. Nygozy probably wouldn't mind. Having allies couldn't hurt, especially considering his knowledge of some of the banns in Amaranthine. He closed the letter and slipped it into his belt. He continued walking down the hall when he heard voices of some of the other wardens. He decided to wait and see who it turns out to be.

[Still using this account for Bowen. Will correct that later]

''Maghai, stop squirming or I'll throw you out the first window we find''

Andraste's knickers, that was way worse than dealing with a real kid. Damnit. The elf was squirming and giggling and Maker please don't let him drool over his hair. Now the Nevarran was quite sure the elf was high, or worse. He sighed.

''I don't think there would be music, kid. There are still lots of things to do, and I don't think our bards are in the mood. And the servants are still terrified, waiting for any darkspawn to jump out of any corner. So...''

While he guided them both - well, guided Fremelda, as he was piggybacking Maghai - to the nearest room that was already arranged, that was, the library, they crossed paths with Maddox.

Bowen smirked. ''Hey man, what's up? Look at what I found. Care to join us for a dink?''

Fremelda kept her temper to a boil. She tried to remind herself that Maghai was extremely naive and needed guidance, so she grit her teeth and kept walking with Bowen and the hyperactive elf of her ire. She combed her fingers through her auburn hair and as they rounded a corner they not only bumped into Maddox, they also bumped into Sophia. The former assassin-turned-warden stiffened at the sight of the ribboned one, she ignored Maddox's presence while she regarded the mysterious Sophia. "You need to watch where you're going." she muttered, folding her arms over her chest.

She felt them before she ran into them... how could she not? Fremelda's barely-contained rage, Bowen's wry exasperation, the kalidoscopic merging of elf and other barely contained within Maghai's skinny frame, and the sensation of someone new, alight with thoughts of siblings and home, all melted together into a marvellous choral of emotions that thrummed through the soles of her bare feet, setting her toes to tingling. Laughing delightedly, Sophia danced forward, her eyes flying open just in time to see her own arm flick out, flipping herself neatly under Fremelda's arm to embrace her from behind.

"My, my... it seems you've gained a propensity to exaggerate since your Joining, Fre-mel-da. I remember the last time I saw you, your song was about to come to an end... all that life, leaking away... almost literally, now that I stop to think about it." A slender finger tapped gently against Fremelda's side, following the path of a certain spear. "How many kisses did you say it would take to make it better? A thousand? A million? And yet here you are, up and walking after a single touch from a healer's hand..." Sophia pulled away, laughing softly, fingers lingering for a moment on her ward's hip. As if to make sure that the blood of that wound really had been washed away.

"Bowen- oh..."

What on earth was-?

"... you seem to have grown an extra head..." And a familiar one at that. Faint memories of a crowded night in a Denerim bath floated gently through Sophia's mind, bringing a faint blush of happiness to her cheeks. How long had it been since they had all laughed together like that?

"... hopefully Caterina does not object. I would have come to join you at the gates, if you'd asked (I find that a burst of controlled fire can be very helpful in disposing of stubborn bits of filth,) but you gave me such a hateful look the last time the three of us were together that I didn't want to interrupt."

Another memory: a deserted path, where a tea-party on horseback had been thwarted by an arrow from nowhere. The image of Bowen crushing Caterina's lips against his, as if he were intent on devouring her, pounced out of nowhere, pouring venom through her veins in a torrent that she could barely control. For one terrible moment, she found herself studying the veins pulsing in his neck, calculating the arc Aria would have to take to separate his head from his shoulders...

It passed, of course, without so much a flicker of her smile to give her away. Even so, she couldn't quite keep the ice out of her eyes. A distraction. She needed a distraction. Hadn't Maghai said something about music? Something Bowen had rejected...?

"And why shouldn't there be music? Personally, I don't think there's nearly enough of it. All the songs in this Keep have been so boring, ever since we moved in. Paperwork. Logistics. Clean this, rebuild that, resettle these peasants here... and oh, make sure that everyone's worrying about the possibility that there still might be Darkspawn in the woods... really!" Sophia snorted, her anger at that image forcing out word after word: it was all that she could do to create more to fill the void. "Of course the servants are terrified! Of course the guards are weary! They're watching for nightmares that no longer exist, because we purged when we claimed this castle for ourselves! Honestly, Bowen, you spent most of the morning scrubbing what remained of them off our front door!"

And just like that, the corridor vanished, washed away as the words overwhelmed. The Storyteller was on a stage of her own, telling a tale to an unseen audience with a passion that had nothing to do with the image still scratching at the insides of her skull, not at all.

"Isn't it only right that we work to dispel the ephermal as well as the physical? To soothe bad dreams as well as bury the monsters that inspire them? We should be celebrating, not slaving! There aren't that many supplies in our new home, it's true, but we still have enough to hold a party that will last all night: a Carnival! Music, dancing, stories, food, drink! Enough to make everyone within these walls forget, just for a moment, what we went through to obtain them. One night, to ensure that our Keep is a home we would all fight to protect, instead of just a crumbling ruin in need of repairs."

The bitterness in her own voice shocked Sophia back into reality. For a moment the corridor echoed, as if Vigil's Keep itself were stunned by her outburst. Sophia blinked, just as shellshocked, blushing furiously in the face of her silent audience.

"... th-that is... if no-one has any objections..."

"No music? But but ... but music soothes the soul!" Maghai whimpered as he hopped away from the two and rushed towards the new person he saw. Who was this person? Maghai was not sure he remembered him and Fluffy Flumpkins was grumbling in the back of his mind about something that Maghai was ignoring because truthfully he really did not care, or even notice for that matter.

"Drink yes! Come have a drink mister. We're going to put fun back into the wardens home!" He was excited about the idea of having fun and maybe getting others to have fun as well, "Having a party might brighten everyone's spirits! People might be scared but fun helps get rid of that!"

Then Sophia spoke and he bobbed his head to her words as if it in itself was music then hopped about in a sort of dance until she was done, "Yes! See see! Isn't that the best thing to do, Bowen? Nygozy would love to have fun for once. Jez said she's stuck under paperwork but wouldn't let me go to pull her out. We will have fun then we will be able to go on happier for it!"

*She did not mean literally under paperwork you idiot.*

*Oh hush, Fluffy. A party would do you good too.*

*Oy.*

((Sorry for being so late with this. I almost forgot I had Maggie back in action again.))

[Not sure if it's my turn but posting anyway]


''I haven't said I didn't wanted music'' Bowen stated patiently, oh so patiently. Damned Sophia with those glorious eyes and that obvious dislike for him and making him uncomfortable. Well, excuse me princess, but he saw Caterina first. If that stings your ass it's your problem and not mine. But he said nothing, and kept his voice calm and knighty as always, because he could quite understand the pain of rejection.

''This 'extra head' was causing trouble with Kestrel, who was arguing with Fremelda. I just happened to be there to stop them from spilling blood on the floor again. I'd hate to start cleaning once again''

The Nevarran sighed. It seemed that it didn't matter what he'd do, every time he'd be misunderstood. ''If you want a party, organize one, Sophia. Nygozy is busy with paperwork and dealing with politics, and Calliara is literally dying dealing with everything else. I think they need to relax as well. But I am just an ignorant oaf, am I not?''

He looked directly into Sophia's eyes after she was done with her speech, impressed in his inner self, but staying firm. He could imagine she wanted to see him dead. Rejected people often reacted that way. He didn't mind. As long as he could spend the little time he had left with Caterina, he didn't mind who would like it or not. He was way too old for that, and had lost too many things: a wife, an unborn son, a family, a future. Jeaousy was something that he wanted to keep away, for his own sake.

''If you ever want to tell me something, do it clearly. In private, if you want. Just don't give me cold looks. I apologize if I looked at you with hate, but I can assure you I don't hate anybody but darkspawn, with all my strength. That leaves a poor amount of hate for anything else. Care to join us for a drink then?''