You’d Be Harding In Hightown

It had been a few days since they'd gotten back to Rivain. Naera had left Turvi with the other newly freed people and promised she'd be back to check on him soon. Isabela had ways to help new members of the Lords integrate into the group, and she didn't want to interfere too much. But she'd be lying if she said she hadn't had the young blonde elven man on her mind. 

She'd freed hundreds of slaves in her time with the Lords of Fortune. She'd been the first contact with a friendly face for so many, the first time someone was there to actually help them. So while her experience with Turvi wasn't exactly new, there was something about freeing him that had stuck with her. 

Most slaves were grateful. Many freed slaves were cautious, skittish even. Turvi had been so hesitant to reveal his injury, it broke her heart. But even that sadly wasn't unusual. But the way he'd hugged her when he thanked her? That was different. It was shocking to see him go from un-trusting, to giving her the tightest, most sincere hug she'd had in her life. And once they'd gotten back on land, the way he'd laughed while sitting on the sand? The sound was burned into her mind. It wasn't hysterical, like some, but instead, simply pure and joyous and well… she just needed to know he was doing okay. 

She found him in the mess hall that was attached to the barracks where the newly freed people were housed until they found something more permanent. Turvi spotted her almost immediately, a wide smile blossoming on his face as he eagerly waved at her. She shook her head at him but couldn't help smiling in return.

Once she was close enough, she was pleased to see that the light in his eyes had returned. Sure he was still too thin and wiry and not all his wounds had fully healed, but he was well on his way to recovery.

"Hi Naera, it's good to see you!" He said enthusiastically.

"Hi Turvi," she replied, finding she was glad to see him too. "How are things going?"

"Oh GREAT! I've seen so much and met so many new people. Xiqaa's been showing me around."

"And how's the arm?" She asked.

"Oh, it's good as new. Better than new, actually," he said, bending and flexing his arm to show her.

"I'm glad to hear it," she said, looking him over. Upon closer examination, his wrists were still red and a little more raw looking than she liked.

"Have you seen a healer since we've been back in Rivain?"

"Yes. Though they weren't as good as you. They worked on my back and it's so itchy."

"Can I see?" She asked. He nodded and turned for her. She could tell that he'd been seen by Tahlen. They did good work, but tended to rush the process, leaving the healing wounds itchy. "Well, they did a great job, there's barely any scarring left," she said appreciatively.

"I know," he said with an uncharacteristic scowl. "I didn't ask them to do that."

"Is that why your wrists are still so red?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," he said, pulling both of his arms close to himself, and farther from her.

"I could heal those for you too, and I won't let them be itchy. I can even get rid of most of the scarring too," she offered.

"No!" He said with surprising force. "I mean. No thank you, Naera. I… don't want the scars to be gone." 

Naera's eyes softened and she nodded at him. Plenty of slaves wanted all traces of their time enslaved removed, but some did not. 

"I don't want to forget. And the rest of my family… I don't know where they are. Erasing the scars feels a little like forgetting them too. I think I'd like to cover them, but the healer told me I can't until my wrists are better."

"I understand, Turvi, it's your choice and I respect that. But we can't have them getting infected, you could get very sick or even die." She watched his ears droop and shoulders sag as he began to resign himself to losing his scars. "But I don't have to heal them so completely that you lose the scars. They will be a little more sore for a little longer, but you should be able to cover them in another few days."

"Really?" He asked, and Naera nodded. "Thank you," he said, eyes filling with tears as he flung himself at her, giving her another endearingly tight hug. Naera was doing her best not to get sucked into his display of emotion, though it was hard. 

She cleared her throat and said, "Okay you, give me those wrists."

==

Naera had come back everyday after that to keep an eye on Turvi's healing wrists, and brought a salve for his itchy back. It had taken 5 days before she gave him the okay to cover his wrists if he wanted. He'd wrapped them in spare linen immediately. While she understood and respected his decision, the ordinary linen wraps didn't sit well with her. After checking in with Turvi for the day, she immediately went to her house, determined to find him something better.

==

The next day, she went to find Turvi just as she had every day now for a week. Even though it had become their routine, he still brightened and waved at her every time. 

"I brought you something," she told him.

Somehow, he perked up even more, his already large blue eyes opening wider. "What is it?" He asked, looking to see if she was holding or hiding anything. She smirked at him and showed her empty hands. He scrunched his nose at her and she laughed.

"I've got it right here," she said. She slid off her arm cuffs. She had pulled these pieces from her own collection. Most were actually cuffs or bangles that were a little too big on her wrist. Once she slid them all off, she looked at them and hoped they'd stack on his wrist far enough to cover his scars.

"Bracelets?" He asked, cocking his head, not seeming to understand her gift.

"Yes! If you're going to go around yelling 'for gold and glory' all the time, I thought you could use some gold of your own," she said, smiling. Turvi laughed and held out his hands so she could put the bangles on. He shook his wrists around, his new jewelry making a pleasant jingling sound.

"Thank you Naera," he said, throwing himself at her for another tight hug. She laughed and hugged him back. He didn't release her from his hold, but leaned back to look at her. "You gave me these so now we're friends forever, right?" 

She pulled him back into the hug before answering, so that he couldn't see her own watery eyes. "Forever," she whispered.

Thank you to @serensama and @genjyoandgojyoandhakkai for always letting me borrow the blorbos.

Thank you to @lof-weekend for hosting such an awesome event!

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Tags are always no pressure, check this fun thing out, with no expectation of response ❤️

@serensama, @woundedsoul12, @davrinsleftpectoral, @blackwall-my-tiny-husband, @serialsforbellara, @notyourmamasdeerbat, @strugglinggranola, @aetherflowers, @necromanticsoul, @jukkaricity, @genjyoandgojyoandhakkai, @elishnord, @pixiedurango, @aiyestel, @tkwritesdumbassassins, @sandcastlekings, @sorcerousadventurer, @the-font-bandit, @tarasmom, @talkmagically, @potatofantiger, @redheadsramblings, @viagosbrother, @chaosherald, @iicaru2, @handsignals, @wickedadaar, @kogarashi-art, @vishantikaffar, @mushrooms-x-moss, @nyx-de-riva, @redaresss, @trevisowillbefree

But she had not been a free woman, then. Chains of delicate spun gold wrapped around her neck, her wrists, her ankles, had marked her as owned as surely as heavy iron manacles.

No longer. Thoughts of her life— what it had been, just some few short months ago— were never far, but she decided it would be a shame to ruin the night by dwelling on the past. Her gaze was often drawn to the water, but this far away from the lights of Minrathous, the stars were brilliant against the black velvet of the night sky in a way that Dasha could not look away from.

Whether the big man was able to move that quietly, or Dasha was too deep into her musings and worries about the future, Bashir Hawke startled her so badly that she had to clutch her hands to the wooden railing to keep from hitting him.

(And that was something else she had never seen before, that instinct, that want to protect herself.)

He held up his hands, palms out and fingers spread, to show he wasn't armed. Well, that he didn't have a weapon, at least. The heavy muscles of his shoulders and arms weren't just for show, Dasha had seen him hauling crates and securing rigging with ease. He set himself down on one of those crates now, a goodly distance away from her, and waited for her to return his broad smile. She humored him with a nod, but didn't move away from the railing.

"I didn't mean to spook you, sorry for that. Ma says it's her fault, too much of that duelist in her to keep it to herself."

Even in the dark of the night, Dasha can see the freckles scattered over his face and bare arms, a mirror to all the stars above them. It was too dark to make out the color of his eyes, but she knew them to be a warm, golden brown, like honey drizzled into a cup of tea. His eyes were the first thing she had noticed about him, before the scars and the bulk and the height. Kind, in a way that she was still learning was possible in this world.

"It's… fine," she said, after what was probably too long of a pause. The several months Dasha had spent in the company of Shadow Dragons wasn't nearly long enough to get her comfortable with normal conversation. But Bashir had assured her, when helping her up the gangway and onto the ship that would take her to Rivain, that he had seen many a Tevinter captive find their voice. All it would take was time.

"Is it alright if I sit out here with you? I can let you have some privacy, if you need it." Privacy was another irritatingly novel concept that she knew so many took for granted. The anger, the resentment, was a nasty feeling, bubbling up hot from her chest and into her throat. Her mind seemed absolutely determined to make her night take a turn for the miserable.

"You can stay. I wasn't doing anything that needs privacy." Her hands had relaxed, at least, and Dasha rested on her elbows and set her gaze to watch the point where the ocean and the sky melted into the same color. She didn't know how far away they were, now, but it had been over a full day since the crew and passengers had seen land. "I wasn't really doing anything, actually."

"Would you like to be having a drink?" She doesn't need to turn around to know that he's grinning. His question was followed by the scrape of splintered, untreated wood scraping against itself, and the rattle of glass.

"There's actually something in there?" Dasha did turn around then, her curiosity always getting the better of her.

"Always better to be telling as much of the truth as possible. If we were stopped for inspection, it's better to have actual cargo to bribe and distract with." Bashir held up the wine, and in the darkness of the night, it looked black. "I don't have any glasses, but passing a bottle back and forth never hurt anyone."

"I really don't think that's true," Dasha responded, and she was grinning now, too. Rather than sinking into that resentment, she held on tightly to the bright joy of letting her thoughts and words out, rather than swallowing them down. Bashir, kindly, gave her a hearty laugh as though she were the wittiest person he had ever met.

"Well, there's only one way to find out, right?"

Dasha frowned, then. "But we don't have a corkscrew, do we?" She certainly didn't have one, and Bashir's armor left few places for him to be hiding one on his person. Her disappointment was written clearly in the way her eyebrows drew in close together.

"Your face is going to get stuck like that," he teased. "You think a Lord of Fortune doesn't know how to get at a cork? Just you watch…"

She did watch, as Bashir began to work the cork into the bottle with his thumb. It was… a slow process. It was his own face that screwed up into a look, concentration and desperation playing over his features in equal measure. The moment was drawn out just too long, and Dasha couldn't help it— she laughed.

"Are you sweating? It can't be that difficult—" She was cut off by a low, musical pop! as the cork finally gave way. Bashir held the bottle aloft in triumph, and she laughed again, though this time it was with him, rather than at him.

"Voila, as the Orlesians say."

"Do they say that?" She had no way of knowing, really, but it certainly sounded right. "What does it mean?"

Bashir gave a shrug of his massive shoulders, and said, "I have no idea. Here, I'll let you have the first drink." She moved closer to him, slowly, and told herself it wasn't nerves but her lack of sea legs.

(There was no lack of sea legs, she had learned to walk the deck with the rise and fall of the ocean waves with a quickness that had surprised her.)

She sniffed at the open neck of the bottle, and couldn't decide if she liked the smell of it or not. "Is it any good?"

Another shrug. "I don't think the cork will improve the taste, but… it wasn't exactly top shelf to begin with. Cheap drink might as well be rations for the Lords, though, so it'll do."

Dasha finally took a drink, and it was… just as Bashir had described it. It wasn't the finest wine she ever had— even if she had only had scraps, the high table she had served had only allowed the finest, the most expensive, goods.

But this wine was shared with her freely, and that made it the sweetest thing Dasha had ever tasted.

They shared the bottle back and forth a few times, and she found herself enjoying the silence. There was nothing expected of her, not by this moment, not by Bashir. After the third sip, she held up her hand when he offered it back to her.

"No, that's enough. I don't want to tempt the winds into testing if my belly is sea worthy." He laughed at her words again, and perhaps she did have a bit of wit and humor about her after all. "What's it called?" Dasha ran her thumb over the label, tracing the lines and curls of the words.

"Uh, this one… let me see." Bashir reached into the crate to pull out another bottle, squinted at it in the darkness. "Some vineyard way down south... This one's called Laidir."

"Is that Orlesian, too?"

"Nah, not this time. Ferelden, I think." He paused, gave a roll of his shoulders. He was always in motion, Dasha had noticed, even when he was just thinking. "Might be something left over from the Alamari. Maybe— strong? Intense? My da, he's from Ferelden. Maybe he can tell us for sure once we get home."

Home. Dasha was happy to blame the mist that came to her eyes at the thought of it on the wine. She traced the ink on the label again, though she couldn't match up the sound of the word to any of the strokes of ink.

"Laidir," she mused aloud. "I think it sounds pretty, don't you? "

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Davrinsleftpectoral

It had been a picture perfect day in Rivain. The sun had been out in full force and there was not a single cloud in the sky. Now the sun was sinking towards the horizon, the heat of the day at last beginning to dissipate. 

Turvi was waiting at the bar of the the Hilt Bar and Grill and Bar. He had a large platter of breaded cheese wands in front of him and was waiting for the bartender to mix up a round of drinks. 

"How many did you say you wanted?" Zalan asked.

"Five. The others should be here soon. Don't forget the salt on the rim!"

Zalan rolled his eyes. "I know how to make a Salty Dog."

"I know, I know. You always make the best drinks, Z."

"I told you not to call me that," Z mumbled.

Turvi continued on, nonplussed. "It's just that Ayla's only here for a short visit, and I want to make sure we show her the best the Hilt has to offer." Zalan nodded half-heartedly, setting the last drink on a tray. 

"Thanks, Z," Turvi said, balancing the cheese wands in one hand and the drink tray in the other. He carefully made his way over to a table where Xiqaa and Dasha were waiting.

"About time," Xiqaa said. "Have you thought about working here for extra coin? You'd make an excellent serving wench."

"I would, wouldn't I?" He said, flexing his bicep as he lifted the drink tray up and down. 

"Show off," Dasha laughed. "Put down the drinks already! I'm parched."

"Turvi-Fuckin'-Laidir!" Came a yell from across the Hilt.

Turvi spotted Ayla and waved. "Over here Shot Glass!" Ayla laughed raucously and jogged over to the table.

"Sorry, hope I'm not too late. My last match at the Hall of Valor ran long. There was one hurlock that just would not go down."

"Nah, the goblin queen arrives just when she means to," Dasha said, as she handed Ayla a drink.

It was at that moment that Ilene jumped down from the rafters, landing perfectly on Turvi's back, forcing the air out of him with an oof. "Exactly!" Ilene agreed with a self satisfied grin. "I didn't think my brother was ever going to be done with those drinks." She moved to hold out her hand to ask for a drink, and Turvi handed her one before she could say anything.

"Everyone make sure to eat some of the cheese wands before you drink too much, it'll help you last longer," Xi reminded them.

"That's what she said!" Laughed Dasha.

mushrooms-x-moss

"Don't have to tell me twice!" Ayla cackled, giving Dasha a high five and then a kiss. Ayla made the rounds, kissing each of her friends' cheeks in greeting before stuffing a cheese wand into her face so enthusiastically it made Xi raise their eyebrows.

"What?! Fighting makes me hungry!" she grumbled, already reaching for another. Everyone had a nice laugh at that, and Ayla smiled, sipping her drink while glancing around the table at all their cute little faces. Damn, it had been way too long since they'd all been together like this.

She took another sip of the fancy-ass cocktail Dasha had given her. "Andraste's tits, this is good. What the hell is it?" she asked.

"A Salty Dog," Turvi helpfully replied.

Ayla snickered. "Really? You're telling me that's not a nickname for hisgrumpy ass?" she teased, nodding her head towards Zalan at the bar.

Ilene let out a snort laugh that made her choke on her drink. "It is now."

Their table burst into laughter, drawing Zalan's attention, the bartender's eyes narrowing when he noticed them all staring. Ayla gave him a cheeky wave, wiggling her fingers and cackling when it just made him shake his head. "So what sort of trouble did y'all get into today?" she asked, turning back towards her friends.

"Just the right ammount," Dasha quipped, giving Ayla a sultry wink that made her laugh.

"Debatable." Ilene shot Dasha a glare while biting into the cheese wand Turvi wordlessly handed her over his shoulder.

Ayla snickered when Dasha lightly rolled her eyes in response. "I told you I could get us in there without the fire—and I did."

"Took fucking forever though," Xiqaa grumbled.

Ilene nodded. "And way less fun."

"Oooh! More ruins?" Ayla sat up excitedly in her seat. "What was it like? Did you find treasure? Monsters?! Ooo, no, wait—a dragon?? Come on, spill! Y'all know I live for this shit."

Xi laughed, making their incredible purple curls bounce around their face. "Oh, we found some treasure alright."

"Maker's breath," Ayla snickered, turning to give Turvi a pointed look. "Don't tell me you got cursed again."

Turvi opened his mouth to stay something in reply, but was cut off, suddenly interrupting himself with an obnoxiously loud burp. Ayla began howling with laughter when a bunch of little pink bubbles flew out of him along with it.

He gave her a sheepish shrug. "…Only a little."

"Sorry Turbs," Xiqaa said, clapping Turvi on the shoulder. "Just keep touching shit. You're bound to be cursed with something useful eventually…though probably not as cool as me," they snickered, tenting their fingers as sparks flew between them.

Show off.

Ayla rolled her eyes. "Yeah? Reckon we don't need insane powers to still beat your ass at knarts, Lightning Fingers McGee."

"Prove it," Xi scoffed, standing from the table with a challenging grin.

Ayla pushed her chair aside to smirk up into Xi's face where it towered above her.

"You're on, sugar."

genjyoandgojyoandhakkai

“Shots first,” Xiqaa proclaimed, ordering their signature layered drink. Zalan poured with practiced hands and a skeptical eye.

Drinks drunk, Ayla and Xiqaa took their places, daggers ready, elbows nudging. Dasha and Turvi moved to a table closer to the contest, Turvi squatting on the seat of his chair, drink tilted precariously. Dasha rescued it out of his hand.

“Ten on Ayla,” Ilene declared, hopping onto the tabletop.

“Bold,” Dasha grinned. “I’ll take it. Loser buys a round.”

Zalan wandered over, collecting glasses with a sigh. “No brawling if you lose, remember?”

“I never brawl,” Xi laughed. “Ready, Ayla?” They rolled their shoulders; sparks crackled, a few snapping to Zalan, who looked annoyed.

“Always, sugar,” Ayla said, drawing and tossing, fluid and careless.

“Damn,” Xi admired the knife’s placement, then Ayla. “Hot stuff.”

Ayla bowed, preening, shaking out her fingers like she was soothing a burn. “Don’t I know it!”

“Shot Glass!” Turvi whooped.

Xi’s eye twitched. “Beginner’s luck.”

“Beginner?” Ayla laughed. “I’ve been throwing knives since before you learned how to braid those fancy curls.”

Dasha raised her glass in a good‑luck toast; Xi plucked it from her fingers and finished it with a smile and a wink.

“Better. Thanks, Dasha,” they said, steadying themself.

The knife thunked into the board, landing just shy of Ayla’s. Respectable.

“Looks like you can’t back up the sizzle after all,” Ayla needled.

Second throw, Ayla’s knife found the ring outside the center.

“Call me when there’s a challenge,” she bragged.

“C’mon, Xi!” Dasha and Turvi urged, rocking the table as Ilene balanced easily, laughing.

Xi stepped forward for their second throw. Their fingers glowed faintly. Ayla narrowed her eyes at them.

Their knife flew, biting into cork. Outside.

Round two: Ayla.

Biting a cheese wand then handing the other half to Turvi, Ayla squinted. Last throw; she was almost victorious.

Wiping her fingers, Ayla squared her stance and threw. The knife hit clean: inner ring again, outside center. The table erupted, Ilene jumping off her perch when Turvi yelled loud enough to rattle the rafters.

Xi’s jaw flexed. “Cute.”

Poised for their final throw, sparks danced lazily between their fingers.

Ayla narrowed her eyes. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Not thinking,” Xi said mischievously.

The knife left their hand. In the same instant, a bright flash detonated across the room, searing white. Everyone yelped, flinching; blinded, deafened by the thunder. Turvi flipped backward off his chair. Dasha cursed. Ilene clung to the table with miraculous tenacity.

In the chaos, unseen, Xi stabbed their dagger into the heart of the knart board.

The group recovered, blinking and complaining. Xi stood innocently, hands behind their back, whistling.

Ayla walked up to the board. She stared at her knife. Then Xi’s. Her gaze dropped: a second knife lay on the floor at Xi’s feet. Their actualthrow.

Ayla looked up at them slowly.

Xi grimaced.

The table exploded into laughter.

“You forgot to clean up,” Ayla said, voice syrupy‑sweet. “Nice try, Lightning-Butter Fingers.”

kabsey

Ilene sprawled across the table, one hand supporting her head and the other held out to Dasha. "I'll take my gold and that round now, loser."

Dasha rolled her eyes but reluctantly fished a handful of coins out of her cleavage. "You aren't really going to make me buy a round, are you?" she whined with a pretty pout. "You always drink for free."

"True!" Ilene shouted. She leapt from their table to the next nearest one and then the next and the next, making glasses rock and scattering the pots of various card games while the players yelled and swore at her in protest. Her last leap took her to the bar top, and she hopped down behind to survey the array of bottles, one fingertip pressed to her lips in thought.

Zalan scowled at her. "Ilene," he warned in a threatening voice.

She waved her free hand at him while her sharp gaze continued to consider her options. A moment later, she was climbing the shelves and tucking bottle after bottle into the crook of her arm. Zalan watched her from beneath furrowed brows, one arm outstretched to catch her if she fell. His shoulders relaxed when her boots hit the floor again, and with a reluctant sigh, he set out five shot glasses.

For all that Ilene had seemingly chosen bottles at random, she poured very precise layers of each liquor into the glasses. When she was done, she hopped back onto the bar top and then swung her legs over to perch on the edge of the customers' side.

"Serving wench!" she hollered while beckoning to their table. Turvi obediently trotted over, grabbed the tray that Zalan had loaded with the glasses, and then turned his back to her. She let out an approving whoop before jumping on, and Turvi carried both drinks and drink maker back to the table. Ilene passed out the shots, and the others collected them with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

"Do I want to know what this is?" Xi asked.

"Definitely not," Dasha replied, but she downed her drink gamely. As she slammed her empty glass back on the table, her eyes flew wide. The sound of Ilene's cackle nearly drowned out Dasha's intense coughing fit while Turvi patted her on the back with a concerned look.

"Can't be worse than darkspawn blood!" Ayla announced cheerfully and downed her own drink.

Turvi and Xi exchanged a solemn toast of impending doom and then drained their glasses together while Ayla gagged and spat on the floor. Sparks of lightning and pink bubbles danced over the table as Ilene smacked her lips in satisfaction after downing her own shot.

"What do you call that?" Xi wheezed.

Ilene shurgged. "Dunno yet. I just made it."

"Demon Monkey," Dasha gasped, fanning her mouth with one hand.

"Drunk Koala," Turvi offered with another spray of pink bubbles.

"Titty Titty Bang Bang!" Ayla declared, and Ilene howled with laughter, pounding her fist on the table.

Come back tomorrow for part 2!

Thank you to @mushrooms-x-moss for making all the graphics! You are a graphic design wizard my friend. And thank you @blackwall-my-tiny-husband for letting us kidnap Zalan. 

Special shoutout to the other silly gooses that helped write this piece. I had so much fun making it.

@hedwigoprah @davrinsleftpectoral @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @seaglassmelody @serialsforbellara @sorcerousadventurer @chaosherald @jenn2d2 @serensama @sandcastlekings @jukkaricity @necromanticsoul @grand-crow @strugglinggranola @pixiedurango @woundedsoul12 @mythals-whore @notyourmamasdeerbat @biowaredisasterbisexual @jellyeliart @taxymay @falcatas @ladyofcrowsandcoffee @crimsonphantasmagoria @gingervitus @tkwritesdumbassassins @exia-1 @zennihilation

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