Your name is TEIRAN BOVINI and you're just a mild-mannered blacksmith. You will do just about anything to protect your friends.

MASKS project concept work. If Teiran was a Cyborg. 

From @starla-nell: DA Drunk Writing Prompt 49 - 99.9% immunity for your Inquisitor, please? For extra bonus points, combine with any of the other sick prompts on that list, they're all brilliant!

@dadrunkwriting

Thank you for the prompt and for your patience!  Deciding to go to Grad School has forced me to go on hiatus, but as luck would have it my professor tasked us with a produsage (yes, I spelt that right) assignment. And therefore, carved out time for this prompt to finally be filled!

I decided to do both 99.9% Immunity and Take One Down since Teiran does not fit 99.9% immunity (I theorize she gets sick rather easily being exposed to so many new people/places all over Thedas).

Varric groaned as he forced his aching body to sit up. Cole’s hands deftly found how to aid the dwarf in this endeavor then placed a small table with quill, ink and parchment on his lap wordlessly.  The unblinking, pale blue eyes from beneath his large hat stared at Varric for only a moment before disappearing into the shadows of Bull’s crowded bedroom.  

Varric opened his mouth to thank him, but was stymied by a cough that shook the table and threatened to tip the vial of ink.  He sighed and glanced around the dilapidated room whose holes in the walls, ceiling and floor had provided much needed ventilation for the newly dubbed: “Sick Room”.   Wiping the sweat from his eyes, he searched the evening-lighted room for an update on his fellow invalids:  Karissa, her long braid piled atop her head, tended to Cullen sprawled near him who in his fevered state was reciting the Chant of Light through his clenched jaw.  Varric turned to his right to find Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast sullenly sitting upright with her arms crossed and her eyes screaming defiance against her sick, treacherous body.

“Oh no, not you too Seeker?” Varric’s sore throat evident in the lack of robust jocularity that usually saturated his voice.

Cassandra shrunk into herself and opened her mouth to speak, but an undignified squeak is all that emerged from her mouth.  Varric’s laugh was silent but not lacking in amusement. She flushed a brighter red under her fever and gulped down the glass of water placed near her bed, “I am not sick.”

“Sure Seeker, whatever you say.”  Varric turned back to his table and reached for the quill.  

Cassandra, noticing his attention shift, subtly reached for the book under her covers and began reading it while remaining upright and still stubbornly keeping an eye on the door leading to the rest of Skyhold.

Varric dipped his quill in ink and began:

Hawke,

Boy am I glad you aren’t here.  The Inquisitor is ill, again.  But this time it seems the rest of us have been similarly blessed.  Ruffles and Nightingale holding down the fort, though rumor has it Nightingale will be joining us once someone else recovers enough to take over.  Sounds like Ruffles is doing a good job keeping everyone in the dark about this, you know, not to give any Orlesian nobles or demons any ideas.

A thick, wet cough interrupted Varric’s thoughts and he met Cassandra’s similarly worried eyes before they both glanced over their shoulders towards the back of the room where the large Qunari was sprawled in fitful sleep with one horn hanging over the bed and his eye still closed. Cole materialized near Bull’s bed and repositioned the much larger man so the aisles between the cots would not be blocked.  Varric’s eyes followed the Kid as he returned to Dorian’s cot and attempted to soothe the irritated mage with a steaming cup of liquid.

Varric grinned as he watched the disheveled mage attempt to smooth his normally-impeccable hair into some semblance of order and sip disapprovingly at the offered liquid before giving up the endeavor entirely and going back to sleep.  Varric watched Cole’s hat silently turned from Dorian to the next person who needed him: Solas.

“Poor Chuckles.” Varric thought, wincing in pain at the shake of his pounding head, they had found him last night atop a spilled cup of tea at his desk and hadn’t woken since.  Whatever haunted him in the Fade, no one could say, the only other two who spoke Elvish were unable or unwilling to translate.  Varric braced for the inevitable outburst that would follow the bald mage’s broken stream of croaked words.  The dwarf quickly capped his ink and stowed his portable writing desk under his cot as the elf’s ramblings gained volume.  The graceful, Elvish language weaved together in furious, desperate stanzas of unknown meaning filling the Sick Room, waking the rest and all bracing for impact.

The thick, wooden bedroom door crashed to the ground with Solas blinking around at his newfound position atop the wood crashing to the stone ground with his weight.  Varric watched as Cole materialized beside the elven mage and pulled him back up off the broken door and lead him back to his cot.  After securing Solas back into his cot, Cole and Karissa both heaved the door back into its frame, still broken but at least still serving its function.

Varric met Cassandra’s stunned expression and chuckled, “Who knew a mage with a cold could be so dangerous?”

“That is not true of all mages, Varric.”  Vivienne answered vehemently from her cot beside Cassandra’s.

“Please.  Not now.” Teiran’s hoarse whisper floated from the back of the room, followed by a series of coughs from the elven Inquisitor.

“Loner! You’re awake.”  Varric commented dryly.

“Unfortunately.”  Teiran replied, holding a hand to her eyes to block out any flicker of light that would add to her migraine.

“Varric.  How are they doing?”  Teiran asked, her voice small and apologetic.

“Well, considering you left Skyhold in the hands of Ruffles, Nightingale, Buttercup and Hero.  It hasn’t burned down yet, though I hear the kitchen staff is ready to resign.”  Varric replied, taking his writing desk back out.

I really liked that one. ^^ Let me see if I can answer your questions while avoiding spoilers...

Neither of them would rebuff her attempts at building a relationship. 

Noah would even happily reciprocate such gestures. :) He’s very much a “fixer” by nature. He identifies problems, and instead of brooding or obsessing over them, his mind immediately jumps to finding the best possible solution and carrying it out, no matter how difficult it is. Seeing the MC is of like mind in this regard would give him a lot of hope for their marriage... and yes, he might even feel the first stirrings of love (or at least attraction) because of it. :D

Teiran would be much more reticent about the situation, for reasons that wouldn’t have anything to do with what he thought of MC personally... To explain much more would be too spoilery, but he would be reluctant to respond to MC’s overtures of friendship at first... He just... doesn’t see how this could possibly end well for either of them.