Thread: Fools Rush In, Where Wise Men Never Go (Vandesdelca x Diamonds)

But Wise Men Never Fall In Love, So How Are They To Know..... Varric hadn't looked up from his writing when Merrill came into his room with an armful of bags, sitting down at the large table with a soft puff of exhaustion. There were always people coming in and out of his room, and the elf girl was never a distraction - well, except to herself. Busy day shopping, Daisy? He mused, dipping his quill back in a well used pot of ink on the table's edge. Ar'souveri! she sighed in response, shifting her position in the chair so she was instead sitting up on her knees. She was accustomed to sitting on the ground, even in her home, so she often tucked herself in such positions regardless of the presence of furniture. The markets were so crowded today - It was if all of Kirkwall woke up with an itch to spend coin, A small giggle escaped her lips, causing her ears to twitch up as she started sifting through one of the paper bags. Well, it is market day The dwarf replied and grimaced fondly to himself, knowing he should've left the topic alone - he could feel Merrill's wide eyes fix on him - and sure enough when he glanced up, she was staring at him with a hand tucked in the paper bag, as if the comment had frozen her. ..Are the markets not open every day? She inquried, tilting her head. No, they are - Just people tend to have more coin on this day of the week so the markets are busier. Vendors have discounts, pickpockets make more profits, it's great! Silence. He could see those long ears twitching, trying to process what had been said and weaving more questions by the moment. Merrill had shifted in place again, her lips parting to speak when the dwarf cleared his throat. So what did you buy, Daisy? Merrill smiled brightly and resumed pulling numerous bolts of thread and yarn from the bags, along with beads, paints, flexible thin wooden rods and other assorted crafting pieces that quickly cluttered around the section of the table where she was seated. Well, Hawke has gotten his new home in Hightown, yes? Well I wanted to get him a present - but I looked for hours and I couldn't think of anything that was right. So I'm going to make something! She giggled, tapping long fingers togther as she surveyed her own findings. The Dwarf arched a thick eyebrow, looking over the supplies as if they were components to some foreign machine. Varric, like most Dwarves, didn't have an eye for crafts that weren't made from stone - but the elven girl was excited and by the Maker her enthusiasm was like a second hand whiff of ale. And, as if summoned by the comparison of second hand and the mention of ale, Isabella had swayed her way into the room with a coy smirk on her dark lips. What's this then, Kitten? Varric you haven't pressured the poor girl into making some Dalish trinkets for you to sell on the black market have you? She teased, eliciting a playful scowl from the Dwarf and another giggle from the Elf. No - Varric wouldn't do that, Merrill laughed, starting to arrange the wooden rods on the table. I'm making a gift for Hawke! Isabella glanced down at the materials with a similairly bewildered expression as Varric had taken - though her issues did not revolve around a lake of stone, but rather a lack of sparkle and expense. Were there such things as gifts that didn't shine? A gift, hm? She smiled in return, rounding the table to take a seat beside the elf - prodding a long finger against one of the bolts of thread. Well if you want this to be a surprise, someone should make sure that Hawke doesn't walk in on you making it.. She said, taking a swig of her ale. Merrill gasped, the thought having never crossed her mind - and suddenly that pale face looked panicked. But he should be at his new estate, right? Why would he come here? Oh unless he gets tired. Or thirsty. Do you think he'd come here? Varric sighed, shutting the large tome with a low thud, setting it back on the table. Don't worry, I'll go play look out He chuckled, telling himself that his wrist was hurting from writing anyway. As he left the room, Isabella slipped an arm around Merrill's shoulders. Send some ale back here, would you? She called after him, smirking. When the door was shut, she turned her attention back to Merrill, who had started to bend the flexible smooth rods - tying them with dyed green string to form a large circle. So what are you making exactly? Well, it's called Eradathuil - once it's finished, it's mounted over the bed and - Ohh I like it so far Not for that I - Merrill flushed deeply, chewing at a piece of thread in shyness They protect you from bad dreams She finally affirmed, swallowing the flutter of heat in her throat. Isabella was always so quick to jump to the naughtier side of a conversation, and while usually it delighted the young elf girl, when it came to talking about Hawke it made her flush all the more. The former pirate Queen sank back in her chair in slight disappointment, but smiled still. I'm sure he'll love it..but why don't I take you out shopping again after your finished and we'll find another gift? Something that will make sure he has better dreams... Like tea? No, kitten. Not like tea. But it will certainly make him hot...