“Take a plant,” The woman says and shoves a small potted plant – plants of a non-poisonous nature are not Zevran’s forte, so the most he can say about it is that it’s small and rather charming – into his hands and gestures for him sit at the wooden bench and table just outside her house.
She waits until Zevran has taken a seat at the bench with the small potted plant, then smiles, turns around and walks back into her house.
Zevran turns to the Iron Bull who is also seated at the table. The Iron Bull glances up at him and shrugs a shoulder, “Don’t argue with a witch.”
“I’m not a witch!” The woman yells from inside the house. “Don’t classify people against their will! It’s rude and I know you know better!”
Bull rolls his eye, “Don’t argue with the stubborn hermit who lives in the woods.”
“Better!”
“I take it your quest to find Surana did not end well,” Zevran says, holding the potted plant up to his eye level to inspect it closer. It’s probably not magical in nature. It isn’t moving and has no teeth that he can tell. Unless this plant is very, very sneaky. In which case Zevran appreciates the challenge. He can’t tell if it’s any different from the rows of little potted plants that dot the landscape around the house, seemingly on every surface – even on top of other plants.
“We found her,” Bull says, gaze falling to the knife he’s sharpening in his large hands. Well. It looks like a knife in his hands but it’s more like a short sword, really. A sword of the proper length for a dwarf, perhaps.
“And? How did my old friend greet you? Not well, most likely. She has never cared for visitors to her home.” Zevran is usually thrown off the moat via spell. He doesn’t mind, Surana also enchants the moat to be comfortably warm whenever falls in.
“I didn’t realize that Hermit From the Forest Lavellan and Witch Surana had a history,” The Iron Bull says.
Zevran laughs, “My good friend, the lovely and ornery Surana has a history with everybody and everything. Tell me, how did it go?”
“Well. We explained the situation. And she was as confused and baffled as the rest of the continent, and then we left to go fight a dragon.”
“With Surana? Was the dragon Morrigan, by any chance?”
“That far north? Probably not. I’m pretty sure the current Witch of the Wild’s is still down south,” Bull muses, “In any case, the dragon is now dead and I don’t think Witch Surana would have let us kill her friend.”
“One never knows with those two,” Zevran muses, “For all you know it wasn’t even a real dragon.”
“I’m pretty sure it was a real dragon.”
“All of us were sure that Evelyn would have broken the curse by now, but here we are. Two weeks until a year is up. Which is why Leliana has sent me to find you, to see if you succeeded.”
“Well you can tell her no,” Bull says, “And that the Chargers and I will be staying here until the next month has passed so we can avoid dealing with that mess and the following two weeks of Evelyn and Cullen being Evelyn and Cullen in peace.”
“Smart move,” Zevran nods, and glances back towards the house when some odd bright lights start to shine through the windows. “Should I be concerned about that?”
Bull shrugs his shoulders again, “Nah. How are the other groups doing?”
“Well, from what I understand Pavus’ party returned a month into the curse and was summarily dispatched again, to which they returned another month later, so on and so forth. Each time Pavus attempted to explain how this could be very easily solved if Rutherford and Trevelyan would just look each other in the face and be honest.”
“Let me guess, he was kicked out of Skyhold.”
“Many, many more times. I think he’s currently locked himself in his study and refuses to leave. Sera is bringing him meals.”
“And how did Sera’s thing go?”
“She refused to leave,” Zevran says, crossing his legs, tapping a finger lightly against the plant’s leaves to watch them spring back up again. “And the lovely Inquisitor looks like she’s either going to faint or set the entire continent on fire.”
“That sucks,” The Iron Bull says and Zevran nods.
“I think I’m supposed to bring you back,” Zevran says.
“I’d rather not go back until this entire shit-show is over,” Bull replies, examining the knife and handing it to Zevran.
Zevran looks the knife – really a short sword – over and then holds his other hand out for the whetstone and cloth. The Iron Bull hands them over and Zevran pushes the little plant towards him to make room. He begins to work on the blade.
“Finished!” A voice calls from inside the house and Zevran looks up to watch Hermit Living in the Woods Lavellan come out of her house carrying a large glass bottle filled with pink smoke.
She flings an arm out at the Iron Bull, “That’s not for you! Give him back his plant!”
“He’s busy right now,” The Iron Bull says and Lavellan huffs, bringing the large bottle of pink smoke over to them and setting it on the table.
“What is that?” Bull asks.
“It’s what is needed,” Lavellan replies cryptically. It seems appropriate for someone of the magical inclination, Zevran thinks. One is simply not just magical unless they are being cryptic.
“Don’t argue with the hermit living in the woods,” Zevran says, “Do I just take this back to Leliana to give to Evelyn?”
“What? No, this is for me,” Lavellan says. “You will take me back to Leliana so I can talk to Evelyn.”
“What?” The Iron Bull stares at Lavellan.
Lavellan smiles and claps her hands together, “We’re going on a trip!”
Zevran gives the Iron Bull a sympathetic look, “It looks like, my friend, you’re coming back with me to watch the next two weeks unfold after all.”
The Iron Bull puts his head in his hand and grumbles.
I am more lost than usual!
Lavellan isn’t even a regular part of the party here! I am constantly bemused and happy. So glad to be reading.
kiragecko 