Perfectly Simple Plans, a dragon age fanfic

Perfectly Simple Plans

"Hi Wynne!" said Surana, skipping into view. "Do you happen to have any rope with you?"

Now, Wynne was an experienced traveller and knew just how important rope was for all experienced travellers. Of course she had rope. It was almost insulting that he thought he had to check. "Didn't you bring any yourself?" she said. "I was sure that you packed it when we left the Circle. I did remind you when we left, you remember."

"Yep, but I already used up all of mine," explained Surana. "Plus I burnt half of it, so we, uh, probably can't use it any more. Sorry!"

"And what do you need this for?" inquired Wynne, rummaging in her bag for her supplies.

"Oh, uh... nothing!"

Wynne stopped rummaging and gave him a questioning look. "Nothing?"

"Zevran said you wouldn't want to know," said Surana. He fidgeted a little. "I mean, I'll give it back tomorrow morning. I promise!"

"Well, here you are," Wynne said, holding out a lengthy piece of rope. "I hope this will do for whatever purpose you intend."

"Ooh, thanks!" Surana took the rope and scampered off; Wynne sighed.

It was an open secret that the Warden Surana and that Antivan assassin Zevran were an item. In fact, it wasn't even a secret. Wynne, attempting to sleep (as one tended to do in the middle of the night), was fervently wishing that they would try to keep it more of a secret.

Tonight, her attempts in mentally blocking out various moans, groans and shouts of what she hoped was ecstasy were going reasonably well until she overheard an Antivan voice saying, "Ah, this is very good rope! I think I have several good uses for this... now, just stand back against that pole there, and put your hands up-" and then she really, really did not want to hear any more. She wrapped her pillow around her head and tried to sleep.

'Tried' was very definitely the key word. Wynne was far too tired to properly function the following morning, and snapped at Surana in a very un-grandmotherly way.

"... I'm sorry?" said Surana tentatively. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," said Wynne, rubbing her forehead. "I'm fine. I'm just a little tired, that's all."

"Oh. Well, here's your rope back! Thanks so much. And, um, do we have any spare mage staves?"

"Has something happened to yours?" Wynne took the proffered rope, a little more frayed than she remembered, and was about to put it in her bag before the thought, Would I really want to use this after Surana and Zevran have been at it? sprang up in her mind.

"No, but I just wanted a second one. You know. Just in case."

Wynne was a little suspicious. Surana was not the type to have back-up plans – no, he wasn't really the type to have plans at all – even plans as simple as replacing a broken staff. Well, she didn't want to dwell upon it for too long. She put the rope in her bag and made a mental note to buy a new length once they had reached Denerim. "I'm sure Bodahn has some. Perhaps you should ask him."

"Great, thanks Wynne!"

Another night passed. The next morning, Wynne found Zevran and Surana talking rapidly in hushed, conspiratorial tones, and couldn't help but overhear a little of their conversation.

"... really, I don't think we can give this back," said Hosomaki, frantically waving his hands.

"We could just dispose of it, can we not?" said Zevran. He held out a few splinters. "The fire won't mind what fuel it uses."

"But then I'll have to ask Wynne to get me another one! She looked really suspicious last time I asked."

"What is it, Surana?" said Wynne, stepping out from behind a tent.

"Uh..."

"Surana's spare staff had an... accident," said Zevran. He stood up and dropped the pile of splinters in her hand. "He was just wondering if there was anything you could do."

"How did this happen?" said Wynne. "I... I'm sure you only had that staff for one night, so..."

"Well, I was trying this thing with Zevran where I put a long staff u-"

"Perhaps this is too much information," Wynne said quickly.

"-ole and then we- oh, it is?" said Surana, looking a bit disappointed.

"It's a good story," Zevran added. "Are you not even a little tempted to hear his tale of debauched staff-smashing?"

"I think I should pass," said Wynne.

"Hi Wynne!" said Surana. Wynne internally winced.

"What is it this time, Surana?"

"Well, I was wondering... do you think you could get hold of a goose for me?"

"A goose? Why would you want one of those?"

"Or maybe just some goose feathers, that would be fine too!"

"Really, Surana, why?"

"Zevran and I-"

"If this is something to do with Zevran, I don't think I want to know," said Wynne, closing her eyes in exasperated confusion.

"You don't?" Surana looked a little let down, again. "Fine. How about a couple of buckets of white paint?"

Wynne thought about it for a moment. "Not now, Surana."

"Do you know anyone else who might have a goose?"

"But why on earth would you want a goo- no, I suppose I already said that I didn't need to know."

"Who wants a goose?" said Alistair. Surana jumped.

"Oh, hi Alistair! I was just going to go and ask you. Do you know where the nearest goose farm is?"

"The nearest... what? Why? Is our next treaty for the powerful clans of geese?" said Alistair.

"Well, I want Zevran to f-"

"Wait, Zevran?" said Alistair, backing away. While he was very fond of Surana, he could swear that the elf was trying to destroy his much too innocent mind with one brain-bogglingly depraved story after another. "No, don't-"

"-with the goose, and then I'll use the paint to w-"

"No no no no no! Stop talking!" said Alistair, who had heard enough of the previous sentence to wonder whether non-mages such as himself could be made Tranquil. "Stop! La la de la la..."

Surana, puzzled, watched him wander off singing to himself. "So yes! That's why."

Wynne had not heard what Alistair had been scarred by, thanks to those loud protests. She briefly thought about asking Surana to repeat himself, but thought better of it.

"Ah, this is wonderful!" Zevran said, his voice faint through the tent walls but all too clear to the still wide-awake Wynne. "May I ask where you encountered this fine goose? These feathers are more than suitable..."

If Wynne were to be completely honest with herself, she would have had to admit that she was more than a little curious about Surana's activities. Still, she did not really like to intrude upon his private life, not to mention the high chances of being traumatised for the rest of life. She pulled the pillow back on top of her head and tried, once again, to sleep.

Besides, their voices were too faint to be heard under all that groaning, moaning and honking.

"Morning, Wynne! Where does Shale keep her old crystals?"

"Presumably in her backpack," Wynne said sleepily. "What time is it?"

"Time to get up! I've got loads of things I want to try and get today to experiment with!"

"Experiment with?" Oh, Maker...

"Hmmmm... Do you there'll be goats around here? I mean, the goose girl I got Bob from said that there weren't any other farms around here for a few miles, but..."

Wynne looked down. Bob honked sadly and waddled off. "Is there... is there anything else you need?"

"Well." Surana took out his journal and opened it. "Let's see... two goats, a few beer mugs, a cheese grater and a pound of salt."

"But what in Andraste's name are you going to do to each other with a cheese grater and salt?" Wynne said, horrified. "Some form of mutilation? I..."

"No, of course not!" said Surana, laughing. "That would be silly! No, I'm just going to-"

He was interrupted by a burst of angry goose-noises and a scream. "Aaaauurgh! Get it off me!" shouted Alistair. A blur of feathers raced past Wynne's nose and almost knocked off her tasselled tartan cowl.

"Sorry Wynne! I need to give Bob back!" called Surana, running after them.

Wynne did not find out if Surana and Zevran had completed their checklist that night, but after another sleepless night she found Surana asking Leliana about her spare Chantry robes.

To be fair, the thought of a bit of cross-dressing roleplaying was more of a relief to Wynne's mind. Really, what could Surana have wanted with two goats, a cheese grater and whatever else he had asked for? And what exactly had they done to that poor goose? Maybe she should just have asked him; after all, Surana would be more than happy to tell her. Still, the uses of a goose and a cheese grater in tent-time activities were probably things that a sane human wanting to stay a sane human should not know.

"Wynne! We just need two bagpipes for this one," said Surana, the next day. "Any ideas?"

"Where would I find a bag of turnips, an egg beater, a couple of seashells, at least five scarves – preferably purple – and a ball of wax?"

No-one answered.

"Well? Is everyone alright?"

"How do you even get bagpipes to make that sound? Maker, it was like someone force-feeding a suffocating cat to a cow and getting it back from the other end," mumbled Alistair, clearly in need of more sleep.

"I'd like to know what kind of madman crafts those abominable instruments," said Morrigan. She glared at the pair of elves.

"I bought them for only a few silver in that last village," said Zevran. "I thought they sounded beautiful, surely? Ah, the joy of music is only matched by the joy of sex... which is to say, last night was doubly enjoyable."

"What in Andraste's holy hairpins were you doing to them?" said Alistair incredulously. "No no no, wait! Forget I asked! Maker..."

"Good morning, Wynne! Could you buy me a couple of cushions and a sack of reasonably small potatoes in that village while I'm out questing? Not to eat, of course!"

Really, she should just ask him. It was getting harder and harder to justify not finding out, what with the ever decreasing amounts of sleep she was getting.

"Do you know where I could find a pot plant? The longer and thinner the better, if you know what I mean."

Not only did they seem to be getting louder and louder with every passing night, but Wynne's mind could not seem to get over that question – just what were they doing in there? It was hard to sleep even after the elves had quieted down, with those confused thoughts tumbling around her head.

"Right, I've got another checklist – say yes when you think you can get one of these, alright Wynne? So: two or more fresh fish, a rolling pin, a watering can, a small bag of apples, a very heavy book leather-bound if possible, a wooden mallet, a reasonably clean templar shield, a blunted butter knife, a rolling pin, a greased doorstopper, three or more jugs of milk, one spare left shoe that you won't need ever again, a small bit of butter, a set of old cutlery, a smallish shrub and a few dozen small stone figurines. Which you won't ever need again. Oh, and two cats."

"I think you'll find you've said 'rolling pin' twice," said Wynne weakly.

"Hi Wynne! Hope you're alright. Do you have any-"

"For the love of the Maker, what are you going to do this time? Now what is it you want? Another giant list of seemingly random items that should have no place in your dealings with Zevran? I cannot take this anymore, Surana! So what do you need now, and just what are you planning to do with it?" Wynne paused, breathing heavily in mild panic.

Surana was momentarily taken aback. "Huh? I was just going to ask you for some lubricating oil."

"That's... all?"

"Well, it was starting to chafe a bit down there last night, and then I realised we had no more oil left. It was terrible! Zevran didn't even get to use the shrub."

A/N: A quick ficlet for the kink meme on livejournal - as you may have noticed, there is no kink. I absolutely fail at porn, but I do keep my eye out for interesting crack prompts. Surana is pretty obviously Hosomaki, haha.