theattic | PSL: A COUPLE OF MISFITS

"No, I haven't used beer on these ones," said Maurice, pretending to be super huffy over the very idea.

It was night and Maurice had come by to work with his therapy flowers. These ones, a nice tray of white and pink flowers, were coming along nicely. A few in the back of the box were kind of puny. They hadn't built up their tolerance yet.

"They're too young."

Beleth looks up from her work, a bundle of flowers in one hand, and a single flower in the other. All are set down while she stands, moving over to inspect his flowers with an eye that wasn't really all that professional, but at least more so than Maurice's.

"They're growing, Maurice. Don't worry. If you want flowers to blossom into something beautiful, they take time. Patience. Cultivation." She paused, then in the interest of honesty, waved to some other flowers that were growing in the greenhouse. "Or...you just get wildflowers and let them do whatever they want. Dalish actually usually do that, to be honest. Elfroot is like a weed. It just happens to be a weed that can heal wounds."

"Don't that kinda defeat the whole purpose of gardening though?" Maurice turned and tilted his head. He did think the wildflowers were pretty though. They looked like an arrangement that was already made. "It's amazin' that a plant can do that all by itself though."

"They're not a flower for someone who wants to have the hands on touch of growing their own plant," She agreed, moving back to her work, and settling down. "But they have their own uses. It is pretty amazing, though. I guess it's just a reminder that nature doesn't really need us around to do everything for it." She shrugs, fingers working on the lump of flowers in her lap, taking a flower from a pile and delicately weaving it into the lump.

"The Dalish usually will plant things like that along our seasonal paths. That way, we can take things that we need, and there will be more next time we travel through. I haven't had to do that in a while, though..." She frowned, shaking her head. "It's been a long time since I've walked the path."

Maurice listened quietly.

It was always so interesting to hear about this other far away world. He knew people from all over the multiverse but few were so eager to share their home with him.

"It's like...a pharmacy that restocks itself. That's so cool!"

He noted the growing shape she was working on.

"What's that?"

Beleth liked talking about her own world--particularly the Dalish. She loved her people, held them dear to her heart, and she was proud to be one of them. It was...talking about herself that didn't come as easily. Which is probably why it had taken half a year for Maurice to learn that she had the anchor.

"Well, we have to plant the herbs. At least, we make sure that some are planted. If we use them all up, then there won't be any left. It's just...being responsible, you know? We have to think ahead for the future." She looks up at his question, and holds up what she's working on.

Currently, it looks like a rope, of flowers and vines, things growing in the greenhouse. "This is a special braid, sacred to Sylaise. She's the elven goddess of the hearth, who taught the elves domestic arts. She's the healer. She's also the one that my vallaslin is dedicated to."

Maurice finally left his flowers be and drifted back over to where she was working. He found a bucket, overturned it, and sat down.

"That's really cool...I say that a lot." He suddenly felt dumb. "But--it really is! We don't have anything like that back home. Or uh. My religion didn't anyway." Maurice hesitated. When he shared the faith that he was fighting tooth and nail with, it always sounded so gloomy. "Are there others?"

He didn't sound fond of his own religion. A lot of people had different ideas, different feelings about their faith, or the faith that is commonly accepted around them. Particularly at Skyhold, there was a wide range of different things that people felt with regards to the Andrastian faith. But when Beleth speaks, it's of the gods of her people.

"There are nine Creators in our Pantheon. First is Elgar'nan, the All-father, the god of vengeance. He was created by the earth and the sun, and the earth loved her child, and created the plants and the animals for him. The sun grew jealous and in his great fury, scorched the earth of all that she had made for Elgar'nan. The god was so angry that he locked the sun away, and the earth grew dark. It was Mythal, the All-Mother, the protector and the goddess of justice and love, who convinced him to let the sun go." As she spoke, her fingers busied themselves with the braid, though there was a smile on her face. How long has it been since she'd gotten to tell the old tales?

"Falon'Din and Dirthamen are the twin gods. Sometimes I feel like I should have taken Falon'Din's vallaslin, since my twin took Dirtamen, but we had our reasons. Falon'Din is the guide of the dead, and it is he who leads souls to the Beyond when they die. Dirthamen is the god of secrets and knowledge, and it's said that he has given a secret to every animal that walks the ground. Andruil is the huntress, who created the Way of the Three Trees, and taught them to the elves."

She began to recite these, sounding like she was recalling a lesson from school, though the smile remained. "The Way of the Arrow: Fly straight and do not waver. The Way of the Bow: Bend, but never break. The Way of the Forest: Together we are stronger than the one. They are lessons that the Dalish must always remember. June is the god of crafts, who created the bow and arrow, and knives, and taught us how to hunt. He's also Sylaise's husband. Ghilan'nain is the mother of Halla--Halla are like white deer, sacred to the Dalish. They are not our beasts but our friends, and they will only aid us."

She held up the rope of flowers, eyeballing its length, before plucking more from the pile, fingers twisting the stems in to the weave.

"Then there is Fen'Harel. The Dread Wolf, the trickster god. He tricked the Creators, and sealed them away from us in the times of Arlathan. Thus, he became the symbol of treachery." She pressed her lips into a thin line, shaking her head. "May the Dread Wolf take you--it's one of our greatest curses."

AW SHIT IT WAS STORY TIME.

Maurice folded his hands in what there was of his lap and listened quietly. He guessed keeping up with NINE gods wasn't too hard if you were raised that way. He fondly remembered A Midsummer Night's Dream which featured all manner of forest spirits and gods. He imagined his mother twisting herself into knots at the thought of him sitting and listening so openly.

He slowly found his chin dropping to his hands and a sigh escaped him. Beleth looked truly happy talking about her home. No wonder she wanted to go home so badly when they first met. You know, war aside. And she sounded so sure of herself as she told him the stories.

"What do you mean when you say you took one? You and your brother, I mean."

She looked startled for a moment, then quickly gestured to her face. "The vallaslin. Each design represents a different Creator. My brother has the vallaslin of Dirthamen. I thought about taking the vallaslin of Falon'din, who was Dirtamen's twin, just as Sorrel is my twin. But in the end, I went with Sylaise. They represent..." She hesitated for a moment, fingers stopping their weave as she thought of what she wanted to say. The easy answer--Sorrel is the apprentice to the Keeper, thus knowledge, and Beleth favors healing and the crafts. Or the answer that the two held within their hearts.

"...The vallaslin represent each other. My brother, with his kind heart, the gentle one, though he doesn't act like it. He's akin to Sylaise, like that. And I'm like Dirthamen." There's another hesitation, as she closely studies her hands. "The secret-keeper." The deceptive one, who keeps her thoughts to herself and smiles gently to the world.

"The vallaslin are like us, and like each other. So we're always connected."

"Oh! So it's...a little like a horoscope that you actually get to pick. But it's also real. I think I get it!"

Maurice hesitated, watching her work on the flower crown a little longer.

"Which do you think would be the best for me?"

"I don't know what a horoscope is."

She thinks on his question for a bit, though, expression thoughtful. It was a question no Dalish took lightly, when answering for themselves. After all, it was something that would be on their face until the day they died--there was nothing (that they knew of) that could remove it--magic or knife. They spent most of their childhood contemplating it.

"I think...that's your own choice to make, Maurice. What do you value the most? Justice? Knowledge? But I suppose since you can't really learn all about the Creators with a few short sentences...Perhaps Falon'Din, who gives peace to the dead, or June, who created all manner of things with his hands." She hummed thoughtfully, tilting her head. "You work on cars, right? June might suit you well."

"A horoscope is...a symbol you're supposedly born under--in the stars, I mean." He pointed upward. Just in case Beleth somehow didn't know where the stars were. "Mine's Sagittarius but I don't think it fits me too well. They're supposed to be fun and outgoing and chill about everything."

It was true that he'd mellowed out after his years in Ruby City, but most days he felt like a strained violin string.

"I do like to make stuff...I've never built a car but I know how to cook. I'm glad you don't think I'm tryin' to edge in on your whole--" Here he waved his hands in a gesture that meant ELFHOOD. Or something like it. What did he value? "I think...what's most important to me is..."

His brows furrowed. Oh, no, it sounded so corny in his head.

"Nevermind."

"Oh." She glanced up at the sky thoughtfully, studying the stars as she listened to Maurice. "I don't know, I think you're fun, Maurice. And you're pretty cold, too." She reached over with a smile, to press her fingers against his arm. "See? Very chill." An accidental misunderstanding, or purposely doing it as a joke? WHO KNOWS.

Okay, the way she's smirking means she probably did that on purpose.

"I don't think you're trying to edge in on anything. It's nice to have people have an interest in my culture--I mean...I probably would protest if you actually tried to get vallaslin, but I don't think there's anything wrong with wanting to know more about it." She gave a little shrug, at that. She was...pretty sure that Maurice couldn't have a vallaslin. They were a symbol of the Dalish gods, the culture that humans tried to snub out, but would never yield.

Unless he wanted to become Dalish, but...she's pretty sure that wasn't possible, either.

"But--hey, I want to know. I told you what's most important to me!" She puffed her cheeks out, because reasonable adults pout in order to achieve their desired goals.

Maurice opened his mouth to explain himself and then he saw that smirk of hers. He rolled his eyes and dared to lean forward and plant a chilly hand gently against her face.

"I don't think I'd look too good with a face tattoo anyway. I'll stick to keepin' mine on my arms. I've been thinkin' about getting a new one while I'm here. I know it won't last forever, but hey, it's fun!" He moved his hand shifted uneasily in his seat. Great, he'd been trying to distract her from that topic!

Maurice reached down to pick up one of the flower petals that had fallen from her project so that he'd have something else to look at. "I dunno, I just. It's been hard and I've learned a lot of stuff. Some stuff I didn't even wanna know. And I think the most important thing is to just...be good, I guess. Lame, right?"

She huffed at the cold hand touching her face, swatting half-heartedly at his hand.

But he was talking about important things now, and she listened with interest. It was a difficult question to answer, and she didn't blame Maurice for struggling to voice his answer. But when he finally did answer, she nodded, eyes suddenly darting down to her project, and starting to twist the two ends together.

"You think that it's lame that you consider your priority being a good person? Maurice, that's a perfectly acceptable answer. A good answer, even. Not that there really are wrong answers."

Finally, she held up her project, and Maurice could see that it was a flower crown. She shifted, standing up to plant the crown right on his head, like a priestess crowning a valiant king. "That is a good goal, Maurice. Don't be ashamed of yourself for prioritizing something like that."

Maurice could feel color rising in his cheeks. She didn't laugh! Of course she didn't laugh. This was Beleth--probably one of the most non judgmental people he knew.

Unless you were a human.

"I guess I got it in my head most folks would think being brave or heroic would be more important. Having a cause to fight for, or a family to protect stuff like that. But I only--"

AND LO! HE WAS CROWNED. She shut him up good and he rolled his eyes up in attempts to see the gift she'd made him. Had she been making it for him the whole time?

"Okay. I'll try to get better about that."

Humans are LAME, Maurice. Also, complicit in attempted genocide.

Beleth leans back to look at him with the flower crown, squinting critically. "I think I underestimated how big it needed to be--next time, I'll get flowers with longer stems, I think. But it'll do." Then she reaches up and readjusts it. "But I like those colors for you. They don't have quite the flowers they do in Thedas, but I got things that looked pretty close."

She reached up, touching the flowers gently. "This one is for a gentle spirit, and this one is for steadfastness. And this one--just looks pretty." Cough. Liar liar pants on fire. "And the braid I used for them is a sacred braid, dedicated to Sylaise. When you wear this, she'll protect you."

And she stepped back, taking another look at him. "I think you're already a good person, Maurice. Next time, I'll see if I can find some flowers that...represent that...? Hmm."

Maurice squinted at her and teased, "Are you sayin' I've got a big head?"

But he fell silent again as she shared even more of her world. Gentle. Steadfast. And pretty. He could dig that. The vampire secretly wished someone thought he was pretty some days. Not handsome or cute, but pretty.

He also wondered if Sylaise would protect him if she knew he used to be human.

So Maurice the vampire sat there on his bucket in his flower crown and tried his best not to smile too big while Beleth looked him over. "These are nice too though!"

"Alright, girl, we are gonna make some spa ghe tay."

It was a slow night. No monster attacks in the city, the weather wasn't awful, and Maurice had enough ingredients laying around so he invited Beleth over to show her how to make the dish he kept talking about once and for all.

But he also had another plan in mind.

He loved every conversation they had, but he'd finally noticed that Beleth rarely talked about herself. He loved hearing about her world and her beliefs but she herself was more important to him than either of those things.

"Lemme start off by sayin' noodles are either gonna make or break this thing and salt is your friend."

"Spa-ghe-tay." Beleth repeated the strange word obediently, curiously looking around the area. She'd been happy to accept the invitation--Happy that Maurice had sent it, as well. These moments were nice. Quiet and peaceful, nothing to fight, nothing upsetting. Just hanging out and talking.

And she was very curious about this spaghetti that Maurice talked about.

"Alright. So the noodles are the most important part. And you need to use salt. Um--I guess I don't use a lot of it, usually, but we've got plenty of access to it here." She nodded firmly. She wasn't living in the middle of a forest, she could use as much salt as she wanted!

Maurice let out a wheezy little laugh at her mimicing his stretching of the word. He had no intention of correcting her either.

"We sure do!" He salted the water and began moving about the kitchen, arms ever moving, like a conductor leading his orchestra.

"If you had to pick one thing t' eat for the rest of your life, what d'you think it'd be?"

She perched on the table, watching what he did carefully. Trying to memorize what he did so that she can recreate it. She knows that this isn't a quiz, and that Maurice will help her if she needs it, but she wants to be able to do this right. The question catches her off guard, but she hesitates, thinking on it.

"Well, this wouldn't be a good idea, but Orlais had these little tiny cakes. They were the size of a large coin, but they had so many different flavors. All very sweet. But some were sweet and spicy, some were sweet and salty. All sorts of types. They were very good." She laughed, shaking her head.

"Even Solas loved them, and he was always so critical of Orlais. I'm not sure I should be eating cake the rest of my life, though. I guess the most realistic answer would be my twin's gumbo. He made this really good gumbo with venison. I loved it." Her voice was slightly wistful at that point, glancing off. She really did miss her twin. "He's not good at cooking anything except that, though, so he'd have to be good at it, I suppose."

"Oh, man, gumbo. I haven't had that in so long." Maurice sighed and watched the water boil. "I don't know about you, but I'd just go with the cake anyway."

He grinned over at her.

"I know how that is. For a while all I could do was spaghetti."

"What if you got tired of chocolate?" She replied, a smile on her face. This was clearly a serious debate. Or maybe not. She shook her head, folding her legs underneath her. "I think his main problem is that he doesn't try hard enough to learn anything else. Sorrel is so stubborn. Maybe when I see him again, I'll show him how to make spaghetti." She grinned at the idea, though she's not sure how long that will be. Years? A lifetime?

"I don't know if we have noodles. Maybe."

"Beleth, you can't get tired of chocolate." Maurice turned to wave the spoon at her. "You do that. You kick his culinary ass and show him what for! Just remember to actually put garlic in the sauce you make for him. You living people can't seem to get enough of the stuff."

"You think you won't, and then you do, and nothing is the same. The world becomes a darker place that day." She said, solemnly, giving a very serious nod. This is some deep stuff they're talking about.

His comment on Sorrel elicits a laugh, and she just shakes her head. "Maybe, some day. If I can." She pauses, staring off as she thinks about this possibility. "If I go back to my world, maybe. But then I won't remember anything. Spaghetti and all." There's a long moment of silence that follows, before she turns back to Maurice.

"Do you have siblings?"

"I'll believe it when I see it!"

He could have made a dark comment about how blood was turning into something like that. A dull and coppery necessity rather than some new and exciting experience. But that was not in the cards for tonight. Tonight he had to stay on task!

And that lasted about five seconds because she went and asked him a question, turning his game right back around on him. THAT CRAFTY ELF.

"Yeah, three actually. I'm the baby."

Beleth has +5 ranks in 'divert conversation'. Maurice is going to have to TRY HARDER. Or roll a 20.

"You have three older siblings? Wow. What's it like...? Is it always busy at your house?" She leaned forward, eyebrows going up. She'd thought that having a twin was enough trouble to keep track of, but being the fourth? "Did you all have the same friends, or did you have different friends? I mean--Me and Sorrel were always together, so all our friends were mostly the same. Until I left, I guess."

"It was when we were kids. They're all moved out, married--except for Ike. We only really see each other around the holidays. Sam brings her kids by to see Mom pretty often though."

Maurice stirred the sauce as his memories came back. He made it a point to try and forget whatever life he'd left behind because the one he was leading now took up so much of his attention. He didn't have much space to spare.

"We didn't."

"That's one good thing about living in clans. We're all around, constantly. You're living with your entire family...unless someone gets transferred or bonded into another clan. Usually, that only happens during arlathvhen--That's when all the Dalish clans gather together to meet. But it only happens once a decade."

Pause. Unlike Maurice, she had all these constantly at the tip of her tongue. She wondered if that was a good thing--If she was trying to live in a world that she was no longer a part of. She wasn't very good at being out and about in the community, certainly. She decides to move on, just in case Maurice didn't appreciate her telling him how much better the Dalish were at everything, and promptly just starts talking about the first thing that falls out of her mouth.

"I kind of thought that, before I became Inquisitor, I'd get bonded off to a Keeper, or First. I've got a strong mage bloodline, so if I bonded with a mage, it's a good chance we'd have mage children." She says it casually, like she's just sharing a funny fact about her life. "It's how my dad bonded to my mom. He's not a mage, but he had a strong bloodline. I always figured if it happened, I could probably try to get into a clan that didn't have a First, and convince them to let Sorrel come and be First for their clan." She tapped her fingers on the table, glancing off.

"It'd be nice, really. Getting to transfer clans with him. But--being Inquisitor changed plans, obviously, and now, I'm in a completely different world than my clan, so." Shrug shrug.

Maurice was content to listen. He didn't really know what a First was or a Keeper...but he didn't dare ask what they were because he was interested in hearing about her. Beleth. He did worry about this bonding business. Did they not get to pick? He remembered her talking about being herded around. Maybe those shem people were using her people as some kind of stock to get the best results.

It made him shudder. He fought those feelings off and offered up a laugh.

"I can't imagine havin' magic kids. I used t'baby sit for Sam and regular old kids are enough of a handful."

It's complicated and it's technically optional. But Beleth knew if her mother decided it, she'd follow along because that's what she did.

"Magical children...usually are, yes. Especially because magic usually manifests for the first time when the child is feeling strong emotions. Like--when my brother Sorrel's magic first manifested." She laughed, shaking her head at the memory. "I used to have really long hair when I was younger, and I never took proper care of it. It was always this big puffy mess. Sorrel and I were heading home from practicing hunting right before sunset one day, and my hair ended up getting stuck on some low-hanging branches. Well, neither of us could get it loose, neither of us had knives, and we were sure every noise we heard was a bunch of wolves coming to eat naughty children who were out past sunset." She ducked her head, a sheepish smile on her face.

"Sorrel wanted to go back to camp and get the adults, but I was crying and begging him not to leave me alone, because as soon as he did, I was sure that would be it. Then we heard some twig or something snap, and we both screamed--And suddenly, Sorrel has fire in his hands and my hair is was burned free. Well, we ran fast as we could to camp after that. Some stories are a lot more destructive--I've heard people catching barns on fire, causing thunderstorms. I knew a girl who manifested her magic really early, when she was a toddler. She was throwing a fit and suddenly, the ground under her is covered in ice."

"Hahaha I know, I've seen that hair!"

The dead man broke into a grin and sent it over his shoulder to where Beleth sat. It was one of his happier memories from the strange age-warping instance that plagued the city a while back. He felt awful about being such a pain in the ass, but it was still nice getting to know more about his friend and see it first-hand.

"Wow, though, man..." What he wanted to ask was 'how do you put a kid like that in time-out' but feared it would come out weird. "I didn't get long hair until college and it was an accident. Have you thought about growing it out again?"

"It was even longer back then. Like..." She held a hand down to her waist. "I should have had it tied back, or something like that. But I hating having my hair tied up." She shook her head with a small laugh, then paused thoughtfully, taking a lock of hair and pulling it in front of her eyes.

"I've been kind of growing it out, since I've come here." She doesn't say that part of it is because she's suddenly surrounded by all these beautiful, perfect Middle Earth elves with amazingly long hair. "It used to be shorter. I could try growing it as long as it used to be, but that'll take a while. Do you think it'd look okay?" She glanced over the Maurice curiously, giving a little tug on her hair.

"I think it'd look nice no matter what you did to it." He felt like it was kind of a cop-out answer, but it was true! He liked her red hair. "Do you miss it? If y'do, you should give it a shot! You can always trim it off if you don't like it."

The dead man tossed his own hair in a showy flip as he went back to tending the sauce. "I never went back to short hair after college. Mine was kinda an accident so you never know what you'll like."

"You're flattering me." Beleth demurred with a small smile, ducking her head. "I guess it couldn't hurt to try growing it out again. I don't know if I really missed it, but I wouldn't mind giving it a try. I'll try to be a little better about tying it back when necessary."

She grinned when he flipped his hair and slipped off the table, walking over to reach and touching his hair gingerly. "I like your long hair, Maurice. I think that it suits you. Are you going to keep growing it out, too? I bet that you could get it even longer than mine."

"Nu uh, I'm tellin' the truth! You've got real pretty hair because--" The rest of you is pretty. That was what he was going to say but he managed to derail himself in something like horror as he realized something. He hardly even heard her question. Of course she was pretty. All his friends were pretty! ITS NOT WEIRD TO TELL SOMEONE THEY'RE PRETTY.

Suddenly she was touching his hair and in the terrifying realization of what he was feeling, all he could do was stammer. "I--uhm. Maybe but. It gets. Curly if its too long. And thats. Probably? I want to. Make it green."

"Because? Because--Oh! I'm sorry." She belatedly remembered that maybe people don't like others randomly putting their grubby hands all over their hair, and quickly pulls her hand away, bobbing her head apologetically. "Sorry, Maurice--But, um. You know, I think you'd look nice with green hair, really."

She leans back, squinting at him as she tries to picture him with green hair. "I've never seen green hair before, but. Why not? It's a pretty color."

He suddenly found himself feeling sorry that she'd pulled her hand away. He wanted her to play with his hair--maybe even braid it. Ooooooh, no, he was so screwed. The feeling had jumped out at him like a tiger. Once the idea had been welcomed back into his life, he had thought it would only happen once. He had his love, it ended, and that was that.

BUT NO. Here it was again. Round two, ready for a throwdown.

"No! It's fine--it's cool! But uh. You know maybe I can find a way to do it here. Th' Emporium might have something."

Speaking of colors, his nose was starting to turn just a little purple.

"The Emporium has everything, I think. It's...a little odd, really. Magical. But I guess that's not really surprising here, is it? Sometimes I think of going there to see if they have more things from my home world, but...I worry that I'll see something I greatly desire and not be able to afford." She stuck her tongue out at the idea, but pulled it back to stare in wonder at Maurice's nose.

"...Are you feeling alright...? Are you getting sick? You look...odd." This is accompanied by a nose boop.

Boop.

"If you want, you can sit down, and I can take care of your, ah. Spa-ghe-tay."

Maurice had opened his mouth to comment on the Emporium but then she called out his amazing chameleon abilities and then she had to go and boop his nose. The color only spread and he was swift to cover his face with both hands.

It was like a reflex--same as getting your knee knocked by a doctor. Or standing behind a horse and getting your head kicked off.

"I'm fine!"

PSL: A COUPLE OF MISFITS

Flower Power

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STEALTH CHEF

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