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video ♪ well fuck this

Who: Varric
Broadcast: Open a/v on the network.
Action: Anyone on the Marsiva, since he hasn't been shuffled yet.
When: Dec 29th, or so.

[video;]

[The feed, quite frankly, is crap. The communicator's been bumped on midsentence and appears to be capturing video of an empty bunk.]

—e's ass! Where is Bianca?

[There is some mad shuffling offscreen. A door opens, then closes. The shuffling returns, and this time, there is... chest hair? Chest hair. Sorry. He picks up the communicator, examing it and turning it in his hands, and then finally looking straight into the camera.]

I may be the most desirable dwarf in all of Kirkwall, but that doesn't give anyone free pass to kidnap me twice in a row. Come out of hiding, hand over the crossbow, and maybe I'll feel generous enough not to shoot someone in the face on the way out. Maybe.

[His brows knit together. He leans back and rubs at his temple.]

Maker's breath... my head feels like it's full of cotton. Cotton and shit I've never seen before.

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I don't really need to get drunk. But it would make me feel better.

[He is well aware of his terrible coping mechanisms.]

So, I take it you're not human either. I'm starting to wonder if we were sent here to babysit all the human children.

[He actually snorts at that.]

Tamper down their idealism, make sure they don't get cut or explode? They really aren't designed very well, I'll admit.

[He smirks at him.]

Now, I'll admit: I've never met a dwarf before, but I'm always rather amenable to new experiences. Am I your first Cardassian?

Hey now, everyone loves an idealist. But the part about being designed poorly I'll have to agree with. You ever seen a human baby? It's like a wrinkly thumb wrapped in a blanket. And it leaks everywhere.

[Welp.]

Yep, you're the first. Granted, this is my first time in... space, so that's not surprising. Thedas has people with silver skin, too, but they have horns. Your horns are... on your face. I guess.

[He barks out another laugh-- clearly, Varric has found an appreciative audience for his wit.]

Ridges, not horns-- there's a difference, I promise you, though I'd be fascinated to see what other silver skinned people your world has.

[Good. They're going to get along fine.]

Right. Do you let people touch them? Not that I'm volunteering, I'm just curious.

[He glances away for a second.]

The qunari are pretty rigid. Religious and military in one. I'm not an expert on their culture, but they do value honor. They're pretty secretive otherwise.

If they're so intimate with us. Lovers, yes, family members, yes, friends, perhaps.

[These qunari sound quite a bit like Cardassians, in fact-- not religion, no, but the rest sounds accurate.]

And dwarves? What of their culture?

That's what I thought. Be careful around here, then. If there's alcohol and betting going on, some people will grope anything shiny and distinctive in reach.

[He examines his gloves.]

Beats me. Underground dwarves aren't too exotic. They have castes, ridiculous amount of ancestor-worship, and nasty beer.

Surface dwarves have the Merchant's Guild. It's a bit like when you feed birds and they stumble over each other to get the seeds, except the birds have assassins. And then the birds sell the seeds for a higher price at the market.

Edited (why does he examine his nails if he wears gloves? we'll never know) 2015-01-04 07:53 (UTC)

And which are you, might I ask?

Neither. I'd rather fly into people's houses and knock shit over.

[That was a nice reply, though. He likes you already.]

A rather unique hobby, but to each their own, I can hardly judge.

My real hobby is telling stories, actually... and writing them down. I just happen to be a businessman, too.

Everyone loves a good story.

Ah, then we may have more in common than I first realized. Although I can't say I've ever tried writing them down.

You should. Books are just stories that people can tell themselves over and over again.

[He settles in a little. He's never met another storyteller, not quite like this. He's met Hahren, but he was an elf and not very friendly to non-elves. So.]

I know how this goes. Next thing you'll say is that you're a sort of retired adventurer, too.

Oh, hardly. I leave that to the foolishly brave and overly optimistic. No, I'm simply a tailor, that's all.

'Simply' a tailor? [A beat, and then he doesn't call Garak on his shit.] I thought they didn't exist out here. Someone was telling me that if I wrecked my coat, I couldn't get it repaired.

You have any samples? I could use a new shirt.

[He smirks at that-- no, not simply a tailor, but those who all him out on it so directly don't get to find out.]

Not quite yet-- but if you give me your coat, I can repair it now, and we can discuss what kind of shirt you might like.

[If you're gonna bullshit him, you'd damn well better be good at whatever you're bullshitting. That's his price.]

That'd be great. I think the seam on my right sleeve is starting to come undone.

I'm Varric, by the way. Nice to meet you.

Oh, an easy fix. I say I ought to start teaching a course; the entire fleet seems to be helpless.

Garak. A pleasure. Might I tempt you to a drink on the planet surface?

Nah, I'm just lazy. Why do myself what I can pay other people to do better?

[Yep, he's a dwarf.]

A drink. I'd kill for a drink. I'm still on the big ship though; I don't think I'm allowed to leave until they dump me onto one of the smaller ones.

Ah, then I suppose we'll have to wait. I don't believe it's more than a few days, though.

I'll take you up on that offer when I locate a ship and some beer.

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