dear_mun | (no subject)

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I can hear you squealing like some untamed teenager while playing, Mun. Don't think that it eludes me because that kind of noise is hard to ignore.

Yes, yes, I know you have a thing for accents, but honestly, how many times must you make me adventure to a certain point before starting over again.

Honestly, woman, do make up your mind on what you wish to do with me.

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[ chuckles ]

I take it that your mun fancies you quite a bit.

I wasn't even thinking about myself but she can't help but fancy me. Sebastian was who I was referring to.

Oh, my mistake. I take it that this Sebastian is a friend of yours.

A very good one though my mun is disappointed that I can't woo him due to his vows to the Maker.

It certainly doesn't seem you're very interested in wooing anyone, dear. Although what does his allegiance with the Maker have anything to do with your pursuit of him?

I'll never understand why religion often belittles those into thinking that religion alone is all they need.

Perhaps that is what your mun wishes for you.

Accents. Really. If you're talking about the choirboy, you've got to be kidding. His accent's so ridiculous, I half suspect he's faking it. His Starkhaven brogue's as overwrought as Bone Pit Hubert's Orlesian drawl.

You must have a serious thing for accents if that mess can distract you from his many problems. For one, the fact he thinks it's appropriate to walk around with Andraste's face in his crotch. That's a red flag right there.

...Is that jealousy I hear, Anders?

( she bites her bottom lip for a moment before shaking her head. ) Please, don't remind me... I still make the mistake of looking below the breastplate and get distracted by it.

I would hope that she'd have more planned, but I may resort to spending my days in a drunken stoop with Fenris.

He took a vow of chastity and practically came unglued the first time I flirted with him. Poor thing, bet he prayed for hours after that incident.

The Chantry is rather strict in the rules they have and all that. Never been a very religious person myself.

You want to call it jealousy, go right ahead. I call it common sense. For your sake I hope you haven't fallen for the man, because you'll have a hard time pulling him out from under the Grand Cleric's skirts.

Is that so? Then I'm quite shocked that of a woman of your standard didn't manage to pry him away from the Chantry and its rules.

Yet.

I'm afraid I'll give him a heart attack if I try anything beyond casual flirting.

If that's so then perhaps I will share some of Skyrim's best mead with you.

And here he claims to have had a rakish past before the Chantry showed him the error of his ways. If he'd had a rakish past, he'd know blighted well what to do about your flirting.

I'm almost certain that the Grand Cleric believes me to be a bad influence.

Oh? What should he do about my flirting?

... How far has your mun gotten in this game, my mun wants to know, before she permits me to answer?

Beaten it several times and currently working on another. Her logic is, "Romance all the characters."

Now you're speaking my language.

Then I'm permitted to answer. [Glares at his mun. Anders does not take well to keeping quiet.]

The answer is: he should attack your face. With his face. Passionate noises are highly encouraged.

It almost sounds like I need a demonstration so I know what to look out for.

Excellent. Although I wouldn't recomend drinking more than two bottles.

I would gladly demonstrate a thousand times over, were it not for one thing.

Now you've gone and waxed rhapsodical about Sebastian bloody Vael, I can't get that mental image out of my head: Sebastian and Hubert, star-crossed accent-cursed lovers. Gives new meaning to the Bone Pit, wouldn't you say?

( maker knows she tries to hold in the laugh but fails miserably. she's laughing so hard that she's bent over, holding her stomach, and rubbing at her eyes with one hand.

it takes a good minute or two for her to actually calm herself down. ) Oh, stop it...

Thank the Maker I don't wear plate mail or this would be most uncomfortable.

[Triumphant. With that little smirk.]

You can see it, can't you? In your mind's eye. Hubert in his freshest pink doublet, pressed against Sebastian's gleaming white breastplate, the two of them cooing to one another in their respectively accented tongues. Quoting the vaguely naughty bits that pop up in the Chant here and there.

I can see you've been hanging around Varric too long since you have put way too much thought into this. Now I'm going to have nightmares when I can finally fall asleep.

Thankfully I have Barkspawn to keep me company in that lonely bed of mine.

Oh, I haven't even begun to put thought into it. This is pure improvisation. I can be fairly creative.

Not that you'll ever have occasion to learn just how creative, in that lonely bed of yours, as you so aptly put it.

Why waste your creativity on Sebastian and Hubert when you can put it to better use with me?

Now you're just teasing me. I warn you, you stand in risk of imminent face attack.

I just might counter attack.

Let them believe as they want. I'm certain not even the Grand Cleric is completely freed from sin.

Why do i get the feeling that I'm going to regret asking what you're talking about?

All you need to know is that woman is worse than Isabela.

[he laughs] Now I know you're lying.

Would this face lie to you?

Depends on what you want, doesn't it?

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