"Hey Tadwinks, you awake yet?"
"Mmff-ph."
"Good. The grapevine's been going bloody bonkers while you've been having a nap."
"I've been…recovering…"
"From a hangover. That's your own sodding fault," Sera replied kindly, taking this moment as an opportunity to clamber onto the Inquisitor's bed and straddle the unhappy qunari, "Now listen, I thought your speech was grand. You even called Coryphenus Coryphy-tit-"
"Corypheus."
"Coryphullus."
"Corypheus."
"That's what I said, stupid."
"No, you didn't'-"
"Look, shut up would you, I'm trying to explain something," Sera snapped, giving Herah a playful whack on a horn, "I really liked your speech, but everyone else hated it-"
"Oh crap-"
"Vivvy's even had to go to Val Royeaux," Here, Sera cleared her throat and put on her best Vivienne face (which was highly unflattering) as she attempted to mimic the mage, "'To assess the scale of damage done and see how best the Inquisition's reputation might be salvaged'. You know, all that rubbish and bollocks."
"Double crap-"
"Doesn't end there, right? One of my friends overheard Josie and Cassandra. They're planning to send you on a trip, like...to get you out of the public eye or whatever?"
"Triple crap-"
"You're 'gonna take me with you though, yeah?" Sera continued, leaning down to press her forehead against Herah's and fix her with a stare full of wild, giddy excitement, "Like a holiday, innit? I'll make sure you don't die, fill a few demons full of arrows and stuff. Lots of bees-"
"No bees-"
"We can stick it to some nobs and even find time for…other stuff," Sera wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, "It'll be good, right? Just me and my Honey-Tongue-"
"And the Inquisition's Seeker," came a completely unwelcome voice from beside the bed.
Sera gave a surprised shriek (which came as quite the blow to Herah's headache) before toppling off the bed and descending into a barrage of curses and profanities. Cassandra, stood patiently at the other side of the bed with a hand resting leisurely on the hilt of her sword, could only muster a few weary blinks and a sigh.
"And the Inquisition's Fade Expert," added another voice, arguably even more unwelcome than the first.
Sera's head shot up to glare over the bed at the latest intruder, who was leaning on his staff and offering a withering look over proceedings.
"Eff off," Sera snapped, in a way she hoped conveyed just how much she wanted to turn them both into pincushions, "I don't know how long you've both been creeping there for, but if you think you're coming with us you can just eff off-"
"Eloquently put, as always Sera," Solas replied curtly, turning his attention to the qunari on the bed, "Inquisitor, we've received word from Scout Harding that the village of Crestwood requires our aid. There appears to be a Fade rift in a lake which is causing-"
"Inquisitor," Herah echoed with a mumble, clearly more focused on her new title than the prospect of dealing with yet more Fade rifts, "So this morning really did happen-"
"Yes, unfortunately," Cassandra said, in a tone that suggested she couldn't physically be less impressed if she tried, "It has been agreed that sending you to Crestwood to close the Fade rift will be a suitable way of repairing some of the damage you have done with your ridiculous speech."
"Oi! Inky's speech was bloody brilliant!"
"It was…an acquired taste," Solas mused, with a judgemental raise of a brow.
"Nobody asked you, you bald arse-biscuit!" Sera retorted heatedly, clambering across the bed with the intention, no doubt, of punting Solas' staff out of his grip and through a window. Unfortunately for Sera, but thankfully for the rest of the group, Herah leant forwards and gently gathered up the wriggling ball of fury in her arms.
"LEMME GO!" Sera demanded indignantly, struggling in vain against the qunari's muscular arms.
"How am I going to close this rift if it's in a lake?" Herah asked, in a rather casual manner that did not befit her current situation of being slapped in the face by a furious blonde elf in her lap.
"Well," Cassandra replied, left eye twitching slightly as Sera's shrieks reached an entirely new pitch never before heard by mortals, "that is what we're going to find out."
This was not the holiday Sera had been envisaging. In fact, this was not a holiday at all.
Mud to the left and right of her, dilapidated empty houses behind her, an undead-infestation that stretched as far as the eye could see, cold rain plummeting down from above her. Everywhere she looked, everywhere she stepped, was full of shite and rubbish and bollocks and bloody water in her ruddy shoes and throngs of walking dead bodies everywhere – because that's bloody normal - and all the sodding smells that came with it and dirt and grime splattered up places – up places!
"How does it even get up there?!" Sera complained loudly, fiddling uncomfortably with her plaidweave leggings (much to the disgust of Cassandra, walking behind her, who simply exhaled a long-suffering "Ugh!").
"Perhaps you should have worn more appropriate attire, Sera. Mala suledin nadas," came Solas' voice from ahead. The remark was entirely unwanted and immediately worsened the scowl on Sera's face.
"Shut it, would you? We don't all want to go 'round wearing weird flappy little tunics like you do-"
"And yet, unlike you, I am both warm and dry."
"Piss off!" Sera seethed through grit teeth, "Just piss the frig off!"
"I do so enjoy these little outings we go on," Herah commented leisurely from the front of the expedition. The qunari was taking this whole corpse-infested region thing in her stride, which was simultaneously unnerving and impressive in equal measure. It was also bloody annoying because it meant she kept charging off into the unknown, brandishing her staff to do battle with hordes of the undead, apparently unaware of the danger she was putting herself in.
"Ah, look! More Elfroot!" Herah announced presently, suddenly veering off path and plunging waist-deep into complete bogshite.
"Inquisitor! Must you always-" Cassandra began.
Unfortunately, she was swiftly interrupted by a corpse sending an arrow whizzing inches past her head.
The Mayor of Crestwood was not entirely sure what he'd been expecting when he'd heard the Inquisition was paying a visit. Perhaps a few ambassadors, the odd General or Lieutenant to calm the nerves amidst the current Corpse Crisis, a bit of pomp and ceremony. Maybe even a luncheon or two with Josephine Montilyet herself. He wasn't asking for much, but he felt a modicum of dignity and a certain ambience of respectwould come naturally to the Inquisitor and her closest allies.
Instead, he found himself awoken suddenly and without warning in the middle of the night by the sound of loud voices arguing outside his door – none of which he recognised.
"Inquisitor, you cannot just break into the Mayor of Crestwood's residence!"
"Cassandra, it's wet and cold out here and everyone else has shut up shop, so unless you have a better idea-"
"You're only wet and cold because you kept plunging into giant puddles headfirst!"
"Untrue. I went in feet first."
"Ugh!"
"Shite! Teetness, I need another lockpick-"
"That was the last one."
"Well that's bloody stupid! Why've we only got one sodding lockpick with us?!"
"Perhaps I could assist by bending the Fade in order to-"
"Back away from the door, baldy! You ain't bending anything near me!"
"I've had enough of this. Cassandra, boot the door down."
"…Inquisitor?!"
"Just boot it down."
"I…I don't-"
"I've seen your calf muscles, you could kick a bear across Thedas if you wanted-"
"I…since when have you seen my calves?!"
"Pssshhhhh! Look at how red she's got!"
It was at this point that the squabbling reached such intense levels that The Mayor of Crestwood could no longer distinguish what exactly was being said and by which unfamiliar voice. Instead, he scrambled out of his bed and grabbed a sword which was propped beside a set of drawers, brandishing it towards the door. He couldn't be completely certain he'd heard reference to an 'Inquisitor' and it seemed highly unlikely that the Herald of Andraste would be breaking into his house, no matter the situation. These people were surely thieves or assassins, and exceptionally inept ones at that. Well, they would quickly find that he was ready to defend himself to his last breath if it came to it-
A sudden jolt, a loud CRASH! as his front door came catapulting off its hinges with all the force of a small meteor. A terrified scream from The Mayor of Crestwood, an equally surprised shriek from a petite blonde elf who came tumbling into his house alongside the door, a great deal of dust falling from every which way, and an exceptionally irritated woman stomping through the now empty doorframe.
"Please do make yourself at home, Inquisitor, as trespassing is clearly of no concern to someone of your title."
"Thank you, Cassandra, although your level of sarcasm has not gone unnoticed and is not entirely appreciated."
A huff from the warrior as she crossed her arms furiously across her chest. Herah gave her no notice as she breezed past her and glanced down to her lover, who was lying haphazardly on the wooden floorboards.
"…Sera, what're you doing down there-"
"YOU BLEW THE BLOODY DOOR OFF - !"
"Inquisitor," Solas' voice drifted from the doorway, which he was touching carefully, "I'm not certain the building is still structurally sound-"
"Oh, wonderful," Cassandra commented, voice laden with sarcasm, "we've only been in Crestwood for half a day and already the Inquisitor has demolished the Mayor's house-"
"I think you'll find it's still standing right now actually, Cassandra," Herah replied curtly.
"Oi! Are you 'gonna help me up or what?!" Sera demanded indignantly from the floor, scowling for all she was worth, "This was meant to be a shittin' holiday! You've singed off my arse hairs!"
"Ugh!"
It was at this point in proceedings that The Mayor of Crestwood had decided he'd had enough. With a slightly unsteady wiggle of the sword, which he'd hoped would look threatening but inarguably created the opposite effect, Gregory Dedrick cleared his throat.
"Who are you all? And what is the meaning of this?!"
Cassandra looked as though she was going to reply, but then couldn't quite find the words to correctly phrase their sudden appearance, so instead thought better of it and threw her hands up in defeat. Luckily, Solas was more than ready to take up the mantle.
"You requested aid and the Inquisition has heeded your call."
"By…breaking into my house?!" The Mayor spluttered, as if it utterly defied belief.
The Inquisitor was looking a jot offended by this most recent remark. Here she was after a tireless day of unappreciated navigating and corpse-obliterating – not to mention the Elfroot-collecting – and all she sought was a warm reception from a thankful Mayor of a small, muddy village and instead…instead she received this.
"I think you'll find," Herah began, with all the hallmarks of another one of her diplomatically suicidal exchanges, "such an entrance wouldn't have been necessary had you simply opened the door."
Indignant huffing and spluttering from Gregory Dedrick. "You didn't knock!"
Herah waved a hand dismissively. Such insignificant matters didn't concern her. "Let's not split hairs, Mayor Diddlydick-"
"Dedrick!"
"You have a rift in your lake. I have a glowing green mark on my hand. Let's make it happen."
Here, much to the horror of Cassandra and Solas, Herah offered the Mayor of Crestwood a wink and a click of the tongue before playfully swatting the sword out of his hand – as though it were a small butter knife – as she strode past to seat herself leisurely on his bed.
"Inquisitor," Cassandra hissed, as though she had never been more thoroughly embarrassed in all her life, "perhaps your choice of seating is a little…inappropriate-"
"Right then, big boy," Herah continued brazenly, producing a sodden map from who knows where, "do you have a plan to get us near this rift or are we going swimming?"
The Mayor of Crestwood, now with glowing red ears and cheeks, offered a few more nonsensical splutters before admitting defeat and going to fetch a quill and ink from his desk.
Sera, still on the floor from where she'd fallen earlier, was clutching her sides as she cackled for all she was worth.
Closing the rift was turning out trickier than first anticipated – and that was saying something considering it was already located in a lake.
First there had been Caer Bronach, a keep which had been overrun by bandits and which the Inquisition needed to navigate through in order to reach the dam controls.
"Dam controls?" Herah had asked in a monotone voice back at Gregory Dedrick's house, an eye already twitching in annoyance.
"Yes," The Mayor had replied pleasantly as he marked an area on Herah's map with a big X, "you will need to use them to drain the lake."
"Drain the whole lake?" Herah repeated, "A whole… an entire lake?"
"Yes, that's the one."
"Just… you mean… to clarify… you want us to drain that whole lake?"
"I should think so."
"Isn't that going to cause some… some kind of… damage to the environment or something?"
"What environment?" Sera snorted, "It's all undead boogeymen and bogshite, isn't it?"
"…Point taken."
"Still," Cassandra's voice had interrupted matter-of-factly, "it seems a little odd there are dam controls for the lake at all. What is the purpose of them?"
"To drain the lake," The Mayor said.
"Or conversely?" Solas questioned.
The Mayor looked a little uncomfortable at this. He'd begun fiddling with his collar. It suddenly felt too tight. "…To flood Old Crestwood, I suppose. Not that I would know anything about that! Ha – ha! Ha! Ha – Ha – HA!"
Gregory Dedrick's awkward laughter had been perhaps a little ominous, and the four Inquisition members had glanced at one another suspiciously, but the trip to Caer Bronach had gone ahead all the same.
It was not fun and it was certainly not a holiday, much to Sera's disappointment.
The keep gate had been smashed into pieces by a few solid swings of Cassandra's trusty mace (the Seeker's strength was truly superhuman and utterly terrifying, something which Herah and Sera appreciated watching in action whenever the opportunity presented itself) and the four of them had charged into the fray.
Well, almost all four.
The Inquisitor, unfortunately, had been distracted as usual by the prospect of valuable loot. "These splinters look… awfully sad*," Herah commented leisurely, as she stooped low to prise a few wooden gate splinters from the ground.*
"What the sodding hell are you on about Tadwinks?!" Sera had yelled from a few feet away, where she was fending off a savage mabari, "More important things to be setting on fire, yeah?!"
The suggestion of flinging a few fireballs around immediately caught Herah's attention and, much to the relief of her companions, the Inquisitor was soon found where she belonged: in the heat of battle.
Cassandra Pentaghast was going through an existential crisis.
Why?
Because she was, inarguably, a proven warrior of no small repute. She'd tackled dragons head on and earnt hard fought victories on countless battlefields. The numerous scars littered across her body were reminders of her illustrious, bloody past. She might regret some of the things she had done, some of the swings of her sword, but there remained one consistent element throughout her whole life: her talent as a warrior.
That was until this day in Crestwood.
There she had been, slamming mabari into walls and bludgeoning bandits with all the precision and strength of a mind and body honed for battle throughout years of dedicated training and experience.
And then suddenly, inexplicably, a bandit she had previously smashed into the ground and assumed unconscious or perhaps even dead was suddenly rearing back into life. A foot had thrust upwards and wantonly kicked her mace from her grasp. Off it flew, almost with an air of nonchalance about it, as if it's disappearance from her hand didn't actually signify her imminent death at all. For there was her shield a few feet away, having just been thrown at an incoming highwayman, and there she was – defenceless save for her bare hands - with a bandit lunging up at her with daggers drawn.
The two had clashed fiercely, daggers swiping and fists punching, but were it not for a trusty arrow from Sera slamming into the back of the bandit's head, Cassandra Pentaghast may have met an unglamorous and untimely end.
Despite still having her life, this event did not sit well with the Seeker at all.
This was mainly because she was astonished and appalled at her own lack of awareness in the heat of battle. How had she not noticed the bandit was still conscious, waiting for an opening to take advantage of? Why hadn't she confirmed the kill – ensured her mace had struck his head and left him lifeless? She hadn't been ruthless enough or quick enough. It was unlike her and left her feeling shaken and –
"See, I said you have calves that can kick bears across Thedas," interrupted a decidedly chipper voice, bringing Cassandra swiftly back to the present moment.
Herah Adaar, tending to a wound on Cassandra's left leg with a gentleness that had surprised the Seeker, paused her work to offer a lopsided grin.
The two were sat on a small cot within a tent in Caer Bronach, now safely captured for the Inquisition's uses. It had taken a great deal of persuasion, flattery, bribery and eventually flat out begging to cajole Cassandra into the tent to have her wounds taken care of by someone other than herself, but now they were here the Seeker had to admit to herself that current company wasn't…entirely unpleasant. A little brazen and outlandish for her liking, perhaps, but the Inquisitor was starting to edge into Cassandra's good books… even if it was against her better judgement.
"I would rather you didn't comment on my calves at all," Cassandra replied to the qunari presently.
"You know, most people would be honoured to have the Inquisitor compliment their calves, but by all means have it your way," Herah replied good-naturedly, settling back to her work again.
A huff from the Seeker. A slight pause.
"…Grumpy-guts."
"I am not grumpy!" Cassandra retorted defensively. She did her best to ignore the cackle from Sera as she passed by the tent, on her way to pester Scout Harding no doubt.
"Well," Herah began again, delicately beginning to wrap a bandage around Cassandra's calf, "you aren't exactly radiating sunshine either-"
"We were too careless today," Cassandra interrupted haughtily, with an air of authority that quite belied her current status of 'Wounded-Warrior', "there was not enough planning before we assaulted the keep. We were vastly outnumbered and-"
"I managed quite comfortably," Herah commented with another grin.
"…Is that a tone of smugness I detect, Inquisitor?"
"No, though it would not be misplaced if it were."
Another huff. The bandage went round and round.
"I think I've worked out why you're even more irritable than usual, Cassandra."
"I am not irritable," Cassandra said irritably, with an irritable expression on her face that conveyed just how irritable she actually was.
"It's because it was Sera that saved your life today, isn't it?" Herah said, pausing to look up at the Seeker, "It wouldn't have affected you as much had it been myself or Solas but because it was Sera… you're angry."
"Why would I be angry?" Snapped Cassandra, "I am very grateful to… Sera-"
"That sounded like it physically hurt you to say aloud-" Herah began pointedly.
"I know the two of you are…close," Cassandra said, as delicately as she could muster, "but that does not change my feelings on her status as a member of the Inquisition."
"You think she doesn't deserve to be here."
"It isn't a matter of deserving – for Maker's sake – she is a thief, completely unpredictable and foolish, I do not believe she even fully comprehends the magnitude of half the things that are happening and-"
"She saved your life," Herah said, still wrapping the bandage round and round, "and it irks you that somebody like her protected someone like you."
"I do not-"
"You do."
"I do not - !"
"Do too."
"Do not!"
"Do too."
"Do not!"
"Do too."
"Inquisitor!" Cassandra snapped, thoroughly flustered.
A sudden phwump!
The two glanced down to see half the bandages had unravelled and fallen on the floor.
Cassandra looked at Herah.
Herah looked at Cassandra.
"Inquisitor, do you… do you even know how to apply a bandage?" Cassandra asked hesitantly.
"I haven't the foggiest," Herah replied pleasantly, "but it's the trying that counts."
And just like that the tent was filled with laughter and Cassandra's sulk lifted from her as though Herah Adaar had physically taken a hold of it herself and catapulted it into the breach with a well-placed dropkick.
Cassandra found Sera sat by a fire outside Solas' tent.
Solas had misguidedly left the tent flap open, hoping to enjoy a little more of the fresh air before retiring for the night, and was now having to contend with the feisty blonde casting shadow puppets across the inside walls of his tent.
"Though your imaginative gestures are…impressive, I was rather hoping to read alone and uninterrupted tonight," Solas commented pointedly, fixing Sera with a stare over the rim of his book. The shadowed gesture of a knob floated delicately across his chiselled cheekbones. How exactly Sera had made the shadow puppet of such a thing with only her bare hands was beyond even his own expansive intellect, though he was sure it involved no small amount of talent, however strange and utterly pointless.
"Eugh, yuck, bet it's a book all about spirits havin' it off with each other-"
"Inspiring words as always, Sera, however misguided and incorrect-"
"Hey look! It's Prissy Pants!" Sera interrupted, grinning mischievously as Cassandra came to a standstill beside her, "She knows all about those kinds of books, yeah?"
A deep, patient breath from the Seeker. Maker only knew how she was going to get through this conversation without losing the will to live. "…Sera. It's nice to see you."
Sera's shadow puppets halted mid-gesture. "You what?"
"I wanted to say…thank you," Cassandra continued, sounding somewhat strained, "for earlier. You saved my life."
Time seemed to span for eternities. Sera's mouth was hanging slightly ajar, hands left frozen in the shape of what looked like a crab. Even Solas had raised a slender brow in surprise. Cassandra cleared her throat awkwardly, wishing desperately that she was anywhere else.
Then a peel of sudden, nervous laughter from Sera. She gawkily clambered to her feet and stood hesitantly beside the Seeker, seemingly unsure of whether to reply or scatter away like a startled cat.
"Ha – ha – yeah, you're a funny one, you are, Seeker Pentaghast," the elf eventually decided on, clumsily tripping over the words as she rushed to get them out, "don't get all weird on me, yeah? Like you better when you're beating up knobheads."
"Agreed," Cassandra said.
Another awkward pause. For one astonishingly horrifying moment, Cassandra looked as though she was going to attempt to give Sera a playful punch on the arm out of sheer panic.
Thankfully for everyone involved, Herah's large arms suddenly wrapped around the two women's shoulders as she hugged them close to her.
"Not talking about me, I hope," The qunari said with a broad smile, "or if you are, I hope it's about my impressive muscles."
"Why? You offerin a show?" Sera retorted instantly, that trademark mischievous glint back in her eyes.
"Are you asking for one?" Herah replied smoothly.
"…Woof."
"Ugh!" Cassandra huffed.
"Don't worry Cassandra, you're invited too," the Inquisitor said, suddenly springing forwards and beginning to flex over-dramatically, "you too, Solas! Everyone gets a ticket to the show!"
"Inquisitor, I'm trying to read-"
"Read these bad boys!" Herah said, kissing both biceps.
"Inquisitor…there are people watching…" Cassandra attempted, quickly having to hide her face in a hand as Herah removed her leather coat in one fluid motion and flung it in Sera's direction.
Sera gave a delighted whoop, catching the coat with one hand and punching the air with another.
Soon all of the Inquisition scouts in Caer Bronach were gathered around the recently titled Inquisitor, cheering and laughing as she leapt about in highly exaggerated poses, loudly challenging all the dragons in Thedas to "come and get a piece of this!"
Unfortunately for the Inquisitor, little did she know just how soon a dragon would take her up on the offer.
Notes:
Translation: Mala suledin nadas – Now you must endure
* A reference to the Sad Splinters you can pick up when demolishing certain Keep doors, just in case anyone was feeling a bit lost
