Square #9 - Animal Transformation – Jowan/Varric
He was used to mabari; even if he'd never met Hawke and his brother and his dog, there were enough other Fereldans living in Kirkwall that he'd have made their acquaintance anyway. As it was he sometimes made it rather more closely then he might have liked, there being several street gangs who weren't at all leery of setting the big dogs onto other men. He knew them well enough to know that the Fereldans weren't exaggerating, or at least weren't exaggerating very much, when they spoke of how smart they were, and of their ability to understand what was said to them. About like a very bright child, really, as far as he could tell.
This one... this one, he suspected, understood even more than the average mabari. The way it watched him was rather creepily intense, though that might just have been the effect of its pale grey eyes against its heavy black coat.
"Err... good boy," he said, and started to edge sideways along the wall at his back. The faintest of rumbles escaped its mouth, one paw half-lifting from the ground. He froze again. "I know this looks bad," he said to the beast. "An armed dwarf, poking around somewhere he has no right to be. You're right to be suspicious. But surely it won't harm either of us if you just let me leave, right? Right."
The dog snorted, a sound heavy with disbelief.
Varric sighed. "Look, what if I promised to give you a steak if you let me go? A nice juicy one, at least an inch thick. Raw, cooked, whatever way you want it. Hrmm?"
The dog sat down and yawned, displaying an impressive array of teeth, before fixing its gaze on Varric once again. Varric sighed. "Not going to let me leave, are you?"
To his surprise, the dog actually shook its head to that, then panted, lips lifting in what looked suspiciously like a smile. Varric cursed. "Mind if I at least sit down then?" he asked, and when the mabari made no objection, carefully lowered himself to the floor. He sat studying the dog for a while, then absentmindedly reached for a pocket. The mabari tensed and growled again. He hastily held his hands up. "Just reaching for a notepad and a pen, I promise. I'm a writer, and I just had a thought I'd really like to not down before I forget it."
The mabari tilted it's head to one side, as if thinking, then rose to its feet and moved forward, massive head lowering as it sniffed at his pockets. He held very still, knowing just how much damage the beasts were capable of when roused, then backed off to its previous spot, giving its tail a brief wag before resuming its seat.
"It's all right with you then?" he asked, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. The dog's tail thumped once against the floor. Moving very slowly and cautiously, and keeping an eye on the mabari in case it changed its mind, he took out his pad and pen and the well-corked bottle of ink, carefully worked the cork free and set the bottle down beside him, then dipped his pen, and began scribbling notes into his book, very aware at first of the dog still watching him, and then after a while forgetting its presence, caught up in the story unfolding under his pen. Only when a heavy weight leaned unexpectedly against his arm did he stop, realizing that the dog had moved around to where it could see what he was writing, and was peering down at the page with every indication of actually reading the words written there.
Varric's mouth went dry. "You're not just any mabari, are you?" he asked softly.
It turned its head, its nose just inches from his, the look it gave him one that he could only describe as thoughtful. Then it shrugged, and there was an odd impression of its fur sliding in one direction and its body stretching oddly, proportions changing in some smooth progression from squat and bulky to small and slender, and suddenly the mabari was gone.
Varric could only stare, knowing he was open-mouthed in astonishment as he looked at the man – the mage – now seated in its place, amused grey eyes watching him from behind a shaggy fall of thick black hair. The man grinned, then pointed at the notebook still held forgotten in Varric's hand. "You misspelled 'threnody', it's only one n," he pointed out.
Varric looked down at the page, and blinked. "So I did," he agreed, voice still faint with shock, and automatically scratched through the extra letter before frowning at the man. "Who are you?" he asked. "I can guess you're a mage... and how'd you ever learn to do that!?"
"His name is Jowan," a familiar voice said, causing Varric to start and almost knock over his ink, as Isabela walked into the room from the door he'd been sneaking toward earlier. "And it's a long story, but if you ask nicely, maybe he'll join us for dinner and share it."
Jowan smiled up at Isabela, a warm and friendly smile. "I might," he agreed, and then gave Varric a sly look. "I like my steak well-done," he said, and then rose to his feet.
Varric laughed, and carefully corked and put away his ink and other things before rising as well, accepting Isabela's help in pulling him back to his feet. "I have a feeling a steak is a small price to pay to hear that story," he said, then frowned at Isabela. "And what are you doing here?"
Isabela smiled. "Carrying a message to an old friend. More to the point, what are you doing here?"
Varric made a face. "Following up a lead. Though now I have a feeling I may have been mislead, unless your friend is involved in lyrium smuggling?"
Isabela shook her head, while Jowan's eyebrows rose in mild surprise. "No, I'm pretty certain he isn't," she said. "But come, let's go have dinner, and you can tell us all about it."
"All right. As long as I get to hear Jowan's story. And you're buying your own drinks, Rivain."