Varric and Rahne, backdated to 10/10/15
Oct. 10th, 2015 07:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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om_mainOut for a nature walk, Varric interrupts Rahne's morning jog. She can't figure out how it ended up with them having tea and planning a scenic tour of the city, either.
New places meant new things, and even though Vermont was close enough to New York, it was still new to him. And besides, it wouldn't hurt to take a walk around, meet some people, see some things.
Simple boots, jeans, and a red flannel button-down under a brown leather jacket were his outfit of choice for this excursion, completed with a pen tucked behind his ear, and a pocket notebook in hand, just writing down whatever came to mind, be it things he wanted to do, projects to work on, adjectives, scenery... Even things like the texture of bark and what it brought to mind. It was nice. Varric didn't really expect to meet anyone out this early, but he figured there was always a chance.
Red headed Rahne was impossible to miss anywhere. Jogging down the wooded lane in the early morning, copper locks bouncing, even more so. It was Varric who blended in here, and she was nearly upon him when she realized he was there at all. Embarrassed to be seen in her shorts and tank top--running clothes--she hopped off the main path to let him by. Being just a little obscured by the bracken was a bonus.
Varric tilted his head, having been ready to sidestep to let her by. Still, he turned his head to look at Rahne and smirked just a bit. "What's the hurry, Rosie? No time to say hello?" he asked, the smirk breaking into a small grin. The nickname had come to him a bit spontaneously, but given the color of her hair, he couldn't help but say it when it came to mind.
Rahne flattened down her sweaty mane. "My name is Rahne." She blew the words at him through her thick Scottish accent. "I was tryna make room."
"A pretty name. Mine's Varric," he offered. "And no need to make room. C'mon back onto the path." It was wide enough. "You know, it's actually perfect you found me. I was just thinking of how I'd love to set a story in Scotland. Mind telling me a bit about it?" Sure, he could read stuff online, but he always loved getting personal accounts of that kind of thing.
Rahne was a bit bewildered by this onslaught of words, but there was no way to stay in the trees without being rude or looking weird, so she stepped back onto the path. She put her arms around herself, hiding her chest as much as possible. For the most part, no one ever saw her in her running gear. Which showed way, way, way more skin than she was normally used to. "All about Scotland? For a book?"
To be fair, Varric's eyes weren't on anything below the neckline on her. "Sure, why not? I've been to England, and I've heard some things about Scotland. Old castles, rolling hills, open fields... awfully romantic setting, don't you think?" He scratched the stubble on the side of his jaw. "I'm kind of toying with the idea of starting a romance serial on a blog, but I'm not certain of where to put it. Figured a place kind of like Scotland might do it." He smiled. "Tell you what, you can tell me all about it, and I'll treat you to tea or coffee in Salem Center. I'll drive," he offered. It wouldn't be far, and it would be a nice little excursion. "Unless you'd just rather talk about it here."
The torrent wasn't ending. "I dunnae know much about romances. But Scotland...I've seen a lot of Scotland, I s'pose. The rolling hill bits, anyhow." He was saying so many things so quickly, she had no idea how to catch up.
Varric eased off. Maybe he was rushing the poor girl a bit much. "That so?" he asked, plucking the pen from his ear and putting the tip of it to his notebook page. "Tell me about 'em."
"Ah. Well." She was still feeling practically naked in front of him. "It's green. Far greener than America, even the wooded bits. Colors aren't the same here."
He scribbled things down in his own personal shorthand, nodding. He tapped his pen against the page twice, and looked back up at her and smirking, before he shrugged himself out of his jacket. "Here," he offered. It was just a bit chilly out, and without her running, she'd probably be cold.
She reached out, hesitant like an unsteady fawn, and eventually snatched up the jacket and put it on. It was still warm from his body, which made her feel a bit odd. "Thank you," she said.
"Least I can do for interrupting your jog, Rosie. So. You'd say they're something like... oh, I don't know, rolling waves of emerald?" Varric said, wondering if he liked that phrase or not. It was only good once, really...
"Emerald, aye. They call Ireland the Emerald Isle, but It's really Scotland that looks like a jewel." She sighed.
"I bet. I'll have to go, one of these days. Maybe you'd like to tag along, see some more of it than you've seen before?" Varric invited. It'd be a year or two down the road, maybe, but Varric made plans that far ahead plenty of times.
"Isn't that a bit forward?" Rahne asked timidly. This boy certainly seemed to say exactly what was on his mind.
"Well, it presumes I won't do anything to alienate you completely between now and then." Varric shrugged. "I'd like to think I'm a half-decent judge of character. I've written plenty myself, Rosie, and I'd be willing to bet you're a good person."
"You're a....writer?" Rahne couldn't decide how old she thought this stranger was. He had a fair amount of stubble, but he was almost short enough to be a middle schooler.
"Sure. Published and everything. Just the one, so far." He smiled. "I can tell you all about it, if you're up for tea or coffee," Varric invited. This deep in the woods on the paths, she'd probably done more than half of her morning jog already. Inviting her to relax wouldn't cut into her workout routine too much, he imagined.
"I..." For the life of her, she couldn't think of any polite reason to refuse. "I'm not really dressed..."
"Well, meet me in the garage, in about ten or so?" Varric offered. No reason not to give the lady time to change.
"A-Alright." The bewilderment hadn't disappeared, even as she turned and jogged to the mansion.
Varric chuckled, watching her go. "I'm sure I'll get that jacket back," he murmured to himself, glad his car keys were in his pocket. He didn't feel the need to get dressed, so he headed to the garage, figuring he'd wait next to his car for her.
A little while later, Rahne appeared in the garage. She was dressed in a long flowing floral printed dress, and a bulky grey wool sweater over top. She was nervously holding Varric's jacket.
"Over here, Rosie," Varric called, letting the echoing of the garage carry his voice for him. She probably wouldn't understand the significance of his car, but that wasn't why he had it. Varric was leaned gently against the driver's side door of his candy apple red 1969 Ford Mustang Boss 429, a gift from his uncle who had found it for a rather modest price, considering the rarity, but it had also needed a lot of work. Varric had put that work in himself.
"You keep calling me that," Rahne said. In the mostly-empty concrete garage, her footsteps echoed. It didn't escape her notice that his car was expensive and flashy. Just what had she gotten herself into?
Varric tilted his head. "You don't like it?" he asked, figuring maybe she didn't. "Sorry. I tend to just kind of give people nicknames spontaneously. Old habit I picked up from expensive parties I would have rather not attended. Hop in, I found a place in Salem Center we can grab tea at."
"I'm just...trying to catch up." Gingerly, she opened the passenger side door. The car was so sleek and shiny, she felt certain she would break something. Something expensive.
He noticed her daintiness with the car. "Now now, the Boss 9's not made of spun glass, Rosie. Trust me. You're not going to hurt anything. Just treat it like a normal car." It was a two-seater, so it wasn't like she had any other option than shotgun. He put the key in the ignition and started it up, and started shifting gears, one foot on the clutch and the others on the pedal. Perhaps against her expectations, Varric gently cruised the car out of the garage and toward Salem Center.
"So how long have you been around the school, Rosie? Seems like a real nice place." He figured some smalltalk was in order, and the local classical station was playing some Chopin, which made for pleasant cruising music.
Rahne had been expecting some sort of blasphemous music, so she was pleasantly surprised when the piano kicked in. It relaxed her. "Since last October," she said, all at once realizing that it was about her one year anniversary of arriving. What a year it had been.
"Well, happy anniversary to you," Varric chuckled. "You enjoy the place?" he asked, genuinely interested, though he kept his eyes on the road as he drove.
Rahne, instead of throwing out a mild pleasantry, actually considered the question. "In some ways. In some ways...anything at all would have been better than where I came from. Other times, I wish I was back in Scotland."
"A person needs new experiences. And I get it. I'm sure that despite everything, even I'll start missing Kirkwall before long," Varric said, smirking at the road.
"This is certainly a new experience." She absently ran her hands over her seatbelt. "Riding in cars with boys."
"Oh?" Varric chuckled. "Well, there's something." He turned down the main drag into Salem Center, before sliding into a parking space near a pleasant little tea and coffee place with an outdoor patio, though Varric was a bit worried it might be too chilly to take their drinks outside. "This looks like a good spot." It was early enough in the morning that they weren't crowded, just the odd patron out and about. Varric killed the engine and undid his seatbelt. "Been here before?" he asked, conversationally, as he got out of the car.
"Once or twice. The tea isn't bad." A compliment, for an American establishment.
"I'm assuming that's a comparison to Scotland," Varric chuckled. "Well, c'mon. Let's order some drinks and find ourselves a nice spot to sit, and you can tell me all about it."
"Sure, of course." As she got out of the car, she wondered: had she agreed to a date
Varric wasn't thinking that sort of thing. Like a gentleman, he held the door for her on the way in, and fell into step next to her once they were inside. He took a look at the board of beverage options, and put a hand on his chin. "You go ahead and order whenever you're ready, Rosie. I gotta decide what I'm having..." Was he feeling adventurous today, or not?
Of course, Rahne preferred a nice, strong breakfast tea., which was precisely what she ordered.
After some consideration, Varric ordered the same, and paid for the drinks without even looking at the price. They waited for a moment for their drinks to get served up, and Varric and Rahne picked out a nice seat near a window, but away from the few patrons that were already set up in the shop. "So," he said as he sat down, settling his tea cup on the table. "As far as scenery goes, this place is pretty nice." He produced his pocket notebook and pen again, an eager smile on his lips.
"Don't you come from nearby, though?" She hadn't mastered US geography, but she thought Vermont was quite near.
"Sure. But haven't you gone to another part of Scotland and thought, "wow, this place is beautiful?"" Varric asked, shrugging. "Besides, Kirkwall isn't the best place. Hightown is pretty nice, but the rest of Kirkwall leaves something to be desired."
"I'm not accustomed to large towns. So I've tried to stay away, here."
"There's a lot of value people seem to miss when it comes to rustic or small towns," Varric agreed, nodding. "Small towns often have some of the most interesting stories to tell."
"Small towns are made of stories. Mostly. That and chicken coops."
Varric cracked a grin. "You saying chicken coops don't have a story behind them?"
"Chicken stories, maybe." How oddly this conversation had turned.
"What kinds of tales might chickens tell?" Varric asked, musing. "Stories of feed spread upon the ground, hatching chicks, a rooster strutting about as if he owns the place, and foxes lurking among the trees in the dark?" he asked, more rhetorically than anything.
"It's a question I've never asked myself. Though we did have a fox problem." Until Rahne changed, and scared them all off nightly. "I expect they do again, now."
"Sometimes, the questions we ask ourselves aren't nearly as important as the ones we don't ask. That probably doesn't apply in this situation, though," Varric chuckled. "A lot of chickens in Scotland, I assume? I hear farm-fresh eggs are the best you can get."
Rahne nodded. "Where I'm from, at least. Chickens to tend to, washing always hung out on a line to dry. I rode my bicycle everywhere. With a little basket...for groceries." She was beginning to get choked up. How she missed that little yellow bicycle. "Those were some of the things I helped the elderly of the parish with."
"That's awfully generous of you, Rosie," Varric said, taking mental notes and the occasional physical one. "That sort of generosity isn't too common these days."
"I was always happy to do it. The elders of the parish made very good company. And it feels good to do charity in the Lord's name, always. I would find, when I was feeling low, nothing was so cheering as helping someone else."
Varric couldn't help but grin. "You're about as kindhearted as they come, Rosie," he estimated. "Good on you. Sounds like a cheery little community."
"For the most part," she agreed.
"Well, there's always a few bad apples," Varric allowed. "Still, I'm sure the place was a sight to behold. What else was raised around that area, other than people and chickens? Sheep? Goats? Cows?" he was just curious.
"Sheep, mostly, once you got out into the real country. There was a dairy, though. Always had fresh cream for the parson, of a Sunday. And plenty of cats, though the poor things were so skinny and wild." Which she knew something about, herself.
"Sounds lovely to me. And after all, they raised a nice girl like yourself, Rosie. And now you're here, gracing the rowdy, uppity colonists with your presence," Varric chuckled.
"That's exactly what they seem like sometimes," Rahne softly laughed.
"Well, I suppose some of us just like to play the part," Varric said, grinning just a little. "And what can I say? I've always adored the charming, roguish types in the classic stories and literature."
"Charming, roguish yanks?" she asked.
"Well, we can't all be perfect," Varric returned, chuckling. "My father always said," Varric put on a stern, more adult-sounding voice, "'Son, if you can't be good, be good at it.'"
She uttered a quiet little laugh at that. "That's rather silly."
"My impersonation, or my father's questionable advice?"
"Both, I s'pose."
"Well, on the first count, I aim to entertain. On the second, he makes a good point. For example. I couldn't resist telling stories. Sometimes, it wouldn't be good for me to tell a story. So, since I couldn't be good, I got good at telling stories. And my father couldn't always be good while making loads of money, so he got good at it, instead. Worked out well enough for him, and it's been working out well for me, too."
"I noticed, if you don't mind my sayin' so. You have a very nice car."
"That was a gift from my uncle, and it was in a real sad state when I got my hands on it. I put the Boss 9 back together myself, top to bottom. Made some adjustments here and there, too. Smoother, quieter ride. Not to mention faster, if I ever need it. Never been one for racing. Too much risk for damage. Now, put me on a proper track, with a car that can handle that beating? I'd try it." He shrugged. "I'll try just about anything once."
"I would believe that." After all, he'd lifted her out of a jog in the woods and plunked her down in a cafe like some kind of magic trick.
"There's an old saying in my family, Rosie: Never bet against a Tethras." Varric chuckled. Sure, he'd made up more than half of those 'old family sayings' but nobody seemed to ever call his bluff. "What we point our minds to, we get. That's just our way of things." He shrugged. "I've only had one thing I've ever wanted slip through my fingers, Rosie, but it isn't a lost cause yet, so I'm still trying."
Rahne tilted her head slightly. "What might that be?"
"That's a story I'm not too keen to get into detail on right now, Rosie," Varric said, gently. "I find tragedy and morning tea don't mix well. Let's try happier topics, eh?"
"Ah. Apologies." Though there was no way she could have known.
Varric's demeanor hadn't changed, though, at least not outwardly. "It's fine, Rosie. Everyone's got a share of sadness. I just don't make it a policy to push mine onto others. I'd rather help others take a load off, you know what I mean?" He smirked. "You know, like buying random girls I meet jogging through the woods a cup of morning tea."
"You have made it an interesting morning."
"And hopefully enjoyable as well," Varric added. He sipped his tea, and jotted down a few notes in his own personal shorthand about the flavor and the thoughts that came with it. "So, anywhere you need to go this morning? Stores you want to visit, places you want to see? I'm free all day; they're giving me a few days to get settled in, but I do best with that by getting out and seeing places."
Rahne shook her head. "There's not usually much I go out for...And I've not much money in my wallet, if you want to know the truth."
"I didn't ask about the money in your wallet, Rosie. I wouldn't have cared if you forgot it," Varric said, easily. "If there's any place you want to take a look at, or something you need or want, I'm up for it, and I don't mind one bit paying your way." Of course, if she wanted to go back to the school, he'd be fine with that.
Rahne colored a bit. "I really couldn't. I hardly indulge on my own at all. It wouldn't be right..."
Varric chuckled, but at least in a kind way. "Life is meant to be savored, Rosie. Live a little. Heck, even if it's just a bit of sightseeing. I've heard they have some fancy cathedrals in the city, too. I bet if we time it just right, we'll see the light hitting the bell towers and the stained glass windows juuuust right. Besides, I've heard you haven't lived until you try a New York streetside hotdog." That way, she could at least have some entertainment, some exercise, and a more-or-less meal on him, all at little to no cost, and very little guilt for herself.
"N - new York?" She stared down at her empty mug. "That's sounds...big."
"Sure. It's a big city, but that mostly means that nobody's going to pay attention to a couple of tourists like us," Varric reassured. "The people around there all got their own agendas and busy lives. We're the two lucky ones of the bunch that get to stop and smell the roses."
"Have you been before? I'm afraid I won't be able to navigate..." She worried at her empty mug.
"You let me worry about that, Rosie. Between my phone's GPS and my own sense of direction, it'll be fine." Varric gave her a little grin. "Besides, it's part of the adventure, isn't it?"
"I'm not sure I have the stomach for adventure anymore," she said.
"Just means you haven't been on the right kind of adventures," Varric returned. "C'mon. The moment you're done, you say so, and I'll have you back to the school in a jiffy. Promise."
"Promise? Well..." She took a deep breath "Alright, then."
Varric grinned. "Promise, Rosie. And hey, if you're worried about getting lost, I can pick you up a ball of twine..."
That brought a flush to her cheeks. Rahne just took a moment to enjoy it.
New places meant new things, and even though Vermont was close enough to New York, it was still new to him. And besides, it wouldn't hurt to take a walk around, meet some people, see some things.
Simple boots, jeans, and a red flannel button-down under a brown leather jacket were his outfit of choice for this excursion, completed with a pen tucked behind his ear, and a pocket notebook in hand, just writing down whatever came to mind, be it things he wanted to do, projects to work on, adjectives, scenery... Even things like the texture of bark and what it brought to mind. It was nice. Varric didn't really expect to meet anyone out this early, but he figured there was always a chance.
Red headed Rahne was impossible to miss anywhere. Jogging down the wooded lane in the early morning, copper locks bouncing, even more so. It was Varric who blended in here, and she was nearly upon him when she realized he was there at all. Embarrassed to be seen in her shorts and tank top--running clothes--she hopped off the main path to let him by. Being just a little obscured by the bracken was a bonus.
Varric tilted his head, having been ready to sidestep to let her by. Still, he turned his head to look at Rahne and smirked just a bit. "What's the hurry, Rosie? No time to say hello?" he asked, the smirk breaking into a small grin. The nickname had come to him a bit spontaneously, but given the color of her hair, he couldn't help but say it when it came to mind.
Rahne flattened down her sweaty mane. "My name is Rahne." She blew the words at him through her thick Scottish accent. "I was tryna make room."
"A pretty name. Mine's Varric," he offered. "And no need to make room. C'mon back onto the path." It was wide enough. "You know, it's actually perfect you found me. I was just thinking of how I'd love to set a story in Scotland. Mind telling me a bit about it?" Sure, he could read stuff online, but he always loved getting personal accounts of that kind of thing.
Rahne was a bit bewildered by this onslaught of words, but there was no way to stay in the trees without being rude or looking weird, so she stepped back onto the path. She put her arms around herself, hiding her chest as much as possible. For the most part, no one ever saw her in her running gear. Which showed way, way, way more skin than she was normally used to. "All about Scotland? For a book?"
To be fair, Varric's eyes weren't on anything below the neckline on her. "Sure, why not? I've been to England, and I've heard some things about Scotland. Old castles, rolling hills, open fields... awfully romantic setting, don't you think?" He scratched the stubble on the side of his jaw. "I'm kind of toying with the idea of starting a romance serial on a blog, but I'm not certain of where to put it. Figured a place kind of like Scotland might do it." He smiled. "Tell you what, you can tell me all about it, and I'll treat you to tea or coffee in Salem Center. I'll drive," he offered. It wouldn't be far, and it would be a nice little excursion. "Unless you'd just rather talk about it here."
The torrent wasn't ending. "I dunnae know much about romances. But Scotland...I've seen a lot of Scotland, I s'pose. The rolling hill bits, anyhow." He was saying so many things so quickly, she had no idea how to catch up.
Varric eased off. Maybe he was rushing the poor girl a bit much. "That so?" he asked, plucking the pen from his ear and putting the tip of it to his notebook page. "Tell me about 'em."
"Ah. Well." She was still feeling practically naked in front of him. "It's green. Far greener than America, even the wooded bits. Colors aren't the same here."
He scribbled things down in his own personal shorthand, nodding. He tapped his pen against the page twice, and looked back up at her and smirking, before he shrugged himself out of his jacket. "Here," he offered. It was just a bit chilly out, and without her running, she'd probably be cold.
She reached out, hesitant like an unsteady fawn, and eventually snatched up the jacket and put it on. It was still warm from his body, which made her feel a bit odd. "Thank you," she said.
"Least I can do for interrupting your jog, Rosie. So. You'd say they're something like... oh, I don't know, rolling waves of emerald?" Varric said, wondering if he liked that phrase or not. It was only good once, really...
"Emerald, aye. They call Ireland the Emerald Isle, but It's really Scotland that looks like a jewel." She sighed.
"I bet. I'll have to go, one of these days. Maybe you'd like to tag along, see some more of it than you've seen before?" Varric invited. It'd be a year or two down the road, maybe, but Varric made plans that far ahead plenty of times.
"Isn't that a bit forward?" Rahne asked timidly. This boy certainly seemed to say exactly what was on his mind.
"Well, it presumes I won't do anything to alienate you completely between now and then." Varric shrugged. "I'd like to think I'm a half-decent judge of character. I've written plenty myself, Rosie, and I'd be willing to bet you're a good person."
"You're a....writer?" Rahne couldn't decide how old she thought this stranger was. He had a fair amount of stubble, but he was almost short enough to be a middle schooler.
"Sure. Published and everything. Just the one, so far." He smiled. "I can tell you all about it, if you're up for tea or coffee," Varric invited. This deep in the woods on the paths, she'd probably done more than half of her morning jog already. Inviting her to relax wouldn't cut into her workout routine too much, he imagined.
"I..." For the life of her, she couldn't think of any polite reason to refuse. "I'm not really dressed..."
"Well, meet me in the garage, in about ten or so?" Varric offered. No reason not to give the lady time to change.
"A-Alright." The bewilderment hadn't disappeared, even as she turned and jogged to the mansion.
Varric chuckled, watching her go. "I'm sure I'll get that jacket back," he murmured to himself, glad his car keys were in his pocket. He didn't feel the need to get dressed, so he headed to the garage, figuring he'd wait next to his car for her.
A little while later, Rahne appeared in the garage. She was dressed in a long flowing floral printed dress, and a bulky grey wool sweater over top. She was nervously holding Varric's jacket.
"Over here, Rosie," Varric called, letting the echoing of the garage carry his voice for him. She probably wouldn't understand the significance of his car, but that wasn't why he had it. Varric was leaned gently against the driver's side door of his candy apple red 1969 Ford Mustang Boss 429, a gift from his uncle who had found it for a rather modest price, considering the rarity, but it had also needed a lot of work. Varric had put that work in himself.
"You keep calling me that," Rahne said. In the mostly-empty concrete garage, her footsteps echoed. It didn't escape her notice that his car was expensive and flashy. Just what had she gotten herself into?
Varric tilted his head. "You don't like it?" he asked, figuring maybe she didn't. "Sorry. I tend to just kind of give people nicknames spontaneously. Old habit I picked up from expensive parties I would have rather not attended. Hop in, I found a place in Salem Center we can grab tea at."
"I'm just...trying to catch up." Gingerly, she opened the passenger side door. The car was so sleek and shiny, she felt certain she would break something. Something expensive.
He noticed her daintiness with the car. "Now now, the Boss 9's not made of spun glass, Rosie. Trust me. You're not going to hurt anything. Just treat it like a normal car." It was a two-seater, so it wasn't like she had any other option than shotgun. He put the key in the ignition and started it up, and started shifting gears, one foot on the clutch and the others on the pedal. Perhaps against her expectations, Varric gently cruised the car out of the garage and toward Salem Center.
"So how long have you been around the school, Rosie? Seems like a real nice place." He figured some smalltalk was in order, and the local classical station was playing some Chopin, which made for pleasant cruising music.
Rahne had been expecting some sort of blasphemous music, so she was pleasantly surprised when the piano kicked in. It relaxed her. "Since last October," she said, all at once realizing that it was about her one year anniversary of arriving. What a year it had been.
"Well, happy anniversary to you," Varric chuckled. "You enjoy the place?" he asked, genuinely interested, though he kept his eyes on the road as he drove.
Rahne, instead of throwing out a mild pleasantry, actually considered the question. "In some ways. In some ways...anything at all would have been better than where I came from. Other times, I wish I was back in Scotland."
"A person needs new experiences. And I get it. I'm sure that despite everything, even I'll start missing Kirkwall before long," Varric said, smirking at the road.
"This is certainly a new experience." She absently ran her hands over her seatbelt. "Riding in cars with boys."
"Oh?" Varric chuckled. "Well, there's something." He turned down the main drag into Salem Center, before sliding into a parking space near a pleasant little tea and coffee place with an outdoor patio, though Varric was a bit worried it might be too chilly to take their drinks outside. "This looks like a good spot." It was early enough in the morning that they weren't crowded, just the odd patron out and about. Varric killed the engine and undid his seatbelt. "Been here before?" he asked, conversationally, as he got out of the car.
"Once or twice. The tea isn't bad." A compliment, for an American establishment.
"I'm assuming that's a comparison to Scotland," Varric chuckled. "Well, c'mon. Let's order some drinks and find ourselves a nice spot to sit, and you can tell me all about it."
"Sure, of course." As she got out of the car, she wondered: had she agreed to a date
Varric wasn't thinking that sort of thing. Like a gentleman, he held the door for her on the way in, and fell into step next to her once they were inside. He took a look at the board of beverage options, and put a hand on his chin. "You go ahead and order whenever you're ready, Rosie. I gotta decide what I'm having..." Was he feeling adventurous today, or not?
Of course, Rahne preferred a nice, strong breakfast tea., which was precisely what she ordered.
After some consideration, Varric ordered the same, and paid for the drinks without even looking at the price. They waited for a moment for their drinks to get served up, and Varric and Rahne picked out a nice seat near a window, but away from the few patrons that were already set up in the shop. "So," he said as he sat down, settling his tea cup on the table. "As far as scenery goes, this place is pretty nice." He produced his pocket notebook and pen again, an eager smile on his lips.
"Don't you come from nearby, though?" She hadn't mastered US geography, but she thought Vermont was quite near.
"Sure. But haven't you gone to another part of Scotland and thought, "wow, this place is beautiful?"" Varric asked, shrugging. "Besides, Kirkwall isn't the best place. Hightown is pretty nice, but the rest of Kirkwall leaves something to be desired."
"I'm not accustomed to large towns. So I've tried to stay away, here."
"There's a lot of value people seem to miss when it comes to rustic or small towns," Varric agreed, nodding. "Small towns often have some of the most interesting stories to tell."
"Small towns are made of stories. Mostly. That and chicken coops."
Varric cracked a grin. "You saying chicken coops don't have a story behind them?"
"Chicken stories, maybe." How oddly this conversation had turned.
"What kinds of tales might chickens tell?" Varric asked, musing. "Stories of feed spread upon the ground, hatching chicks, a rooster strutting about as if he owns the place, and foxes lurking among the trees in the dark?" he asked, more rhetorically than anything.
"It's a question I've never asked myself. Though we did have a fox problem." Until Rahne changed, and scared them all off nightly. "I expect they do again, now."
"Sometimes, the questions we ask ourselves aren't nearly as important as the ones we don't ask. That probably doesn't apply in this situation, though," Varric chuckled. "A lot of chickens in Scotland, I assume? I hear farm-fresh eggs are the best you can get."
Rahne nodded. "Where I'm from, at least. Chickens to tend to, washing always hung out on a line to dry. I rode my bicycle everywhere. With a little basket...for groceries." She was beginning to get choked up. How she missed that little yellow bicycle. "Those were some of the things I helped the elderly of the parish with."
"That's awfully generous of you, Rosie," Varric said, taking mental notes and the occasional physical one. "That sort of generosity isn't too common these days."
"I was always happy to do it. The elders of the parish made very good company. And it feels good to do charity in the Lord's name, always. I would find, when I was feeling low, nothing was so cheering as helping someone else."
Varric couldn't help but grin. "You're about as kindhearted as they come, Rosie," he estimated. "Good on you. Sounds like a cheery little community."
"For the most part," she agreed.
"Well, there's always a few bad apples," Varric allowed. "Still, I'm sure the place was a sight to behold. What else was raised around that area, other than people and chickens? Sheep? Goats? Cows?" he was just curious.
"Sheep, mostly, once you got out into the real country. There was a dairy, though. Always had fresh cream for the parson, of a Sunday. And plenty of cats, though the poor things were so skinny and wild." Which she knew something about, herself.
"Sounds lovely to me. And after all, they raised a nice girl like yourself, Rosie. And now you're here, gracing the rowdy, uppity colonists with your presence," Varric chuckled.
"That's exactly what they seem like sometimes," Rahne softly laughed.
"Well, I suppose some of us just like to play the part," Varric said, grinning just a little. "And what can I say? I've always adored the charming, roguish types in the classic stories and literature."
"Charming, roguish yanks?" she asked.
"Well, we can't all be perfect," Varric returned, chuckling. "My father always said," Varric put on a stern, more adult-sounding voice, "'Son, if you can't be good, be good at it.'"
She uttered a quiet little laugh at that. "That's rather silly."
"My impersonation, or my father's questionable advice?"
"Both, I s'pose."
"Well, on the first count, I aim to entertain. On the second, he makes a good point. For example. I couldn't resist telling stories. Sometimes, it wouldn't be good for me to tell a story. So, since I couldn't be good, I got good at telling stories. And my father couldn't always be good while making loads of money, so he got good at it, instead. Worked out well enough for him, and it's been working out well for me, too."
"I noticed, if you don't mind my sayin' so. You have a very nice car."
"That was a gift from my uncle, and it was in a real sad state when I got my hands on it. I put the Boss 9 back together myself, top to bottom. Made some adjustments here and there, too. Smoother, quieter ride. Not to mention faster, if I ever need it. Never been one for racing. Too much risk for damage. Now, put me on a proper track, with a car that can handle that beating? I'd try it." He shrugged. "I'll try just about anything once."
"I would believe that." After all, he'd lifted her out of a jog in the woods and plunked her down in a cafe like some kind of magic trick.
"There's an old saying in my family, Rosie: Never bet against a Tethras." Varric chuckled. Sure, he'd made up more than half of those 'old family sayings' but nobody seemed to ever call his bluff. "What we point our minds to, we get. That's just our way of things." He shrugged. "I've only had one thing I've ever wanted slip through my fingers, Rosie, but it isn't a lost cause yet, so I'm still trying."
Rahne tilted her head slightly. "What might that be?"
"That's a story I'm not too keen to get into detail on right now, Rosie," Varric said, gently. "I find tragedy and morning tea don't mix well. Let's try happier topics, eh?"
"Ah. Apologies." Though there was no way she could have known.
Varric's demeanor hadn't changed, though, at least not outwardly. "It's fine, Rosie. Everyone's got a share of sadness. I just don't make it a policy to push mine onto others. I'd rather help others take a load off, you know what I mean?" He smirked. "You know, like buying random girls I meet jogging through the woods a cup of morning tea."
"You have made it an interesting morning."
"And hopefully enjoyable as well," Varric added. He sipped his tea, and jotted down a few notes in his own personal shorthand about the flavor and the thoughts that came with it. "So, anywhere you need to go this morning? Stores you want to visit, places you want to see? I'm free all day; they're giving me a few days to get settled in, but I do best with that by getting out and seeing places."
Rahne shook her head. "There's not usually much I go out for...And I've not much money in my wallet, if you want to know the truth."
"I didn't ask about the money in your wallet, Rosie. I wouldn't have cared if you forgot it," Varric said, easily. "If there's any place you want to take a look at, or something you need or want, I'm up for it, and I don't mind one bit paying your way." Of course, if she wanted to go back to the school, he'd be fine with that.
Rahne colored a bit. "I really couldn't. I hardly indulge on my own at all. It wouldn't be right..."
Varric chuckled, but at least in a kind way. "Life is meant to be savored, Rosie. Live a little. Heck, even if it's just a bit of sightseeing. I've heard they have some fancy cathedrals in the city, too. I bet if we time it just right, we'll see the light hitting the bell towers and the stained glass windows juuuust right. Besides, I've heard you haven't lived until you try a New York streetside hotdog." That way, she could at least have some entertainment, some exercise, and a more-or-less meal on him, all at little to no cost, and very little guilt for herself.
"N - new York?" She stared down at her empty mug. "That's sounds...big."
"Sure. It's a big city, but that mostly means that nobody's going to pay attention to a couple of tourists like us," Varric reassured. "The people around there all got their own agendas and busy lives. We're the two lucky ones of the bunch that get to stop and smell the roses."
"Have you been before? I'm afraid I won't be able to navigate..." She worried at her empty mug.
"You let me worry about that, Rosie. Between my phone's GPS and my own sense of direction, it'll be fine." Varric gave her a little grin. "Besides, it's part of the adventure, isn't it?"
"I'm not sure I have the stomach for adventure anymore," she said.
"Just means you haven't been on the right kind of adventures," Varric returned. "C'mon. The moment you're done, you say so, and I'll have you back to the school in a jiffy. Promise."
"Promise? Well..." She took a deep breath "Alright, then."
Varric grinned. "Promise, Rosie. And hey, if you're worried about getting lost, I can pick you up a ball of twine..."
That brought a flush to her cheeks. Rahne just took a moment to enjoy it.
