A Blog After My Own Heart.

ON BATHING YOUR LOVER

Griffin McElroy: *Says something chaotic and probably sexual*

That was his first, exasperated thought.

He was equal parts amused and annoyed as his gaze scanned over the desecrated statue.

Wouldn’t the dalish call this sacrilege?

Sitting atop the large wolf statue at the heart of an abandoned inquisition camp was the gods awful hat he wore to the orlesian ball. It had been crudely nailed into the wolf’s head, causing the stone beneath it to crack and chip.

It wasn’t the only statue to be messed with. No, In fact it grew more outrageous with every statue he came across. She must’ve received intel about him and his spies being in the Emerald graves for her to have set this up.

The next statue he came across was dressed in lambs wool and plaid weave. Another statue had its eyes ‘x’ed out and a vulgar streak of red paint around the neck.

One statue had been disassembled in such a way that head of the wolf was where the rear was supposed to be.

He knew very well what she was implying with that one.

Another statue wore a dog collar with a tag that read ‘bad dog.’

His favorite desecrated statue was by far the one with a pair of Ellana’s underwear shoved in its mouth.

His scouts were about, and so he absolutely did not steal the underwear. (Yes he absolutely did, who is he even trying to fool?)

By the end of his time in the Emerald graves, he’d begun to enjoy finding the statues. It made him smile, though he tried not to. Sometimes he let out a chuckle before he could stop himself.

It was all so...very Ellana.

And so when he came to the last statue in the graves, his time in the forests running short, he felt far more somber than he thought he would.

With a strange sort of trepidation, he approached the wolf statue.

When he saw what awaited him, he let out a mix between a sigh and a strangled laugh.

Sitting at the front of the statue like an altar offering was a plate of expensive frilly orlesian cakes and a note sitting on top. Written in large, sloppy handwriting that was definitely Ellanas, were the words “definitely not poisoned.”

He let out a snort, shaking his head. He flipped the note over, for it was unlike Ellana to say so little. On the back was more sloppy handwriting.

“P.S. okay, so they’re a little poisoned.”

He clutched his head in his hand, shaking as he tried not to laugh. His scouts paused in their jobs, watching him with curious and confused faced.

When he finally composed himself, he stuffed the note in his pocket and disposed of the cakes lest the local wildlife try to eat them.