Cassandra took another sip of her drink. The warmth sensation of the beer going down her throat made her mind burst with ideas. She smiled, not too obvious yet not too faintly and transformed into words the images inside her head.
Though the images she had were hard, they weren't hard to write.
Hard…
"If you know what I mean." She thought to herself, not knowing whether she should feel ashamed of proud of her imagination.
And so he yielded his long, bloody sword
and stabbed her with it until she cried:
SWEET MAKER,MY GOOD LORD!
"Well, I hope you aren't' considering a career in poetry any time soon, Cassandra, because either you'll starve or get tomatoed to death."
Cassandra gasped and hid the papers under her arms, causing the beer and some of the ink to spill on the table. It was a mess, but nothing in comparison with the mess of a bastard that had been spying her writing over her shoulder for only Andraste knew how long.
Long…
"Maker's breath, if that's the face all authors make when they are writing, then no wonder they are very lonely people."
"Dorian! You cursed Tevinter, what are you doing here?"
Cassandra grabbed the mage by the neck and shook him in such a violent way it almost looked as if they were performing a rare, aggresive dance. Iron Bull watched them from afar and , with a thumbs up, he greatly approved.
"I knew you were a weird man, but not even I imagined you were one of those creepers with no sense of stealth!" Cassandra continued choking Dorian without giving any chance to the mage of freeing himself.
"And neither I ever thought you were the kind of women who wrote smutty literature" Said Dorian between gasps and coughs. "Not-not that I disapprove…"
Cassandra began to calm down after those last words and she eventually let go of Dorian, to the disapproval of the people of the tavern, who were beginning to enjoy the show. Among them was still the Iron Bull, but by then he was so drowned in alcohol he had fallen asleep in Krem's shoulder, snoring louder than a literal bull.
"Not even my parents treated me this way! The abuse was usually only emotional."
Dorian looked at Cassandra with bold defiance as he cleared his throat and used his fingers to comb his hair. He couldn't dare to not look fabulous for even a minute, and had Vivienne been there, she would have greatly approved, after delivering one hell of a sassy one liner, of course.
"Explain yourself this instant, Tevinter. What do you want? Can't you see I am busy writing smu- I mean, planning sophisticated military strategies."
"To that I call bullshit, because the only sophisticated strategy I saw you planning was of another matter." Dorian replied, folding his arms and giving Cassandra a smugly smile. "The sexual matter, to be more precise. As for why I am here, I was simply following the Inquisitor order to tell you to go the War Room, because apparently I'm now the new errand boy of Skyhold. The nerve of some people…"
Cassandra's heart skipped a beat. The Inquisitor wanted her in the War Room? That hadn't happened ever since the good old days in Haven!
Cassandra was intrigued and excited to once again join the Inquisitor, along with Cullen, Leliana and Josephine. Seeing their faces as the Inquisitor sent them on boring missions was one of her life's greatest amusements.
"Thanks for the message, I shall attend to that order at once. Oh, and by the way, Tevinter…"
Cassandra pointed at an apple that was resting on the same table she had been writing. The fruit was red, smooth and juicy.
"That is your balls."
Dorian looked at the apple and smiled approvingly.
"The comparassion is surprisingly accurate."
And then, with a mighty fist, Cassandra smashed the poor apple until it was nothing more than a mushy pap.
"And that is what your balls will be if you tell anyone about what you have seen."
"Well, this metaphor suddenly took a dark turn." Said Dorian, feeling a mixture of shock and fear for his… golden eggs.
"Good, in that case you won't forget. Have a nice day, Tevinter."
The seeker abandoned the tavern walking proudly; though deep inside she was so happy she could have skipped her way to the War room. Dorian felt so relieved to see her go that he had to sit down for a bit. He was achieving to feel something similar to peace when his eyes met with the poor apple that gave its life to give power to Cassandra's threat.
"This is what I get for allowing the Inquisitor to order me around. Who does she think she is? I'm going this instant to tell her how much I disapprove! I'm sure my opinion will greatly affect her future choices, or else I'm getting my ass away from this damn Inquisition, I swear to the Maker…"
As he rambled on, his throat became dry and he decided to refresh it with the few beer Cassandra had left behind.
"If this is dwarven ale, I'm going to give a critical hit to the bartender." He muttered, grabbing the tin and rolling his eyes.
However, he never got to discover the taste of the drink as he left it completely forgotten on the table after he discovered the papers filled with storis written by none else than a seeker named Cassandra.
In her eagerness to got to the War room, she had forgotten her stories, leaving them all alone and completely under Dorian's disposition.
An evil smile appeared on the mage's face, so wide that he almost bit his ears. He grabbed the papers and raised the same way a hero raises his sword.
"Oh bless me maker, for I am about to make this world a better place!" He exclaimed, standing on the table and striking a triumphant pose.
He was in such awe and his mind was so busy crafting his mischievous deed that he didn't even feel pain when the Iron Bull throw an empty tin at him and it hit him right in his shinny, sassy forehead.
"Excuse you, asshole, but some of us are trying to get some sleep here." Said the Bull. "I greatly disapprove."
"And I, my dear Bull." Answered Dorian, kissing the papers as if they were a handsome lover. "Greatly, greatly don't give a fuck."
