This was inspired by a couple of reviews and PMs (I tease because I love, my dears), and then Blossom grabbed it and ran.
3. Due Reverence
.o0o.
Leliana perched on a boulder warmed in the weak afternoon sun and checked her bow for signs of wear. The Wardens, accompanied by the dog, Zevran and Morrigan had gone to the nearby hamlet's Chantry to check the notice board and restock; Reverend Mother Hecuba's apiary and herbarium were of some local renown and the witch insisted upon selecting ingredients for her potions herself. Leliana hoped Morrigan would keep her acerbic comments to a minimum, as Mother Hecuba was known to be something of a martinet herself.
Dry leaves crackled and the bard looked up to see Blossom approaching. He ignored her greeting and stalked past, the very image of offended canine dignity. Puzzled, she watched as he made a beeline to Sten and sat, ramrod straight, with his back to the camp. She turned her gaze back down the trail.
The Wardens were in the lead; Alistair walked stiffly, face scarlet, and even Sabhya's customary serenity seemed ruffled. Behind them ... Leliana blinked. Behind them Zevran and Morrigan were laughing hysterically, staggering along in a camaraderie so uncharacteristic that she pinched herself to be sure she wasn't dreaming.
Ow. All right, then. She hopped off the boulder and went to meet them.
"What happened? What's going on?" Alistair and Sabhya glanced at each other. Leliana folded her arms. "Oh, please. Surely you aren't going to pretend all this," she indicated the cackling assassin and apostate, "is normal. And why is Blossom in a huff?"
Sabhya looked ruefully toward the Mabari and sighed.
"We were making conversation with Mother Hecuba while Morrigan and Zevran were looking over the herb stock, and she unaccountably persisted in thinking Blossom was a female."
"It's your own fault," cut in Alistair. "Calling him a girly name like that. If you had named him 'Fang' or 'Butch' this would never be an issue."
Sabhya turned his palm over in an indeterminate gesture, unwilling to debate an old discussion that clearly lead nowhere.
"Perhaps," he said diplomatically, "but surely you agree that when the only pronouns I use in reference to Blossom are 'he,' his,' and 'him' his gender shouldn't be in question?"
"Not...not to an autocratic Chantry stick who only hears what supports her own ignorant view," gasped Morrigan, struggling to regain her equanimity.
"How do you do, Pot, my name is Kettle," muttered Alistair under his breath.
"I heard that."
"People," said Sabhya in mild reproof.
"Why didn't you just tell her she was wrong?" Leliana asked, having a good notion what the little mage would say but determined to keep the story on track.
"I couldn't be so discourteous as to flatly contradict her in front of everyone like that," he said in surprise. Yes, she thought so. "Moreover, it would have been terribly embarrassing for her."
For some reason, this elicited renewed howls of laughter from Zevran and Morrigan, the elf bending over with his hands on his knees and Morrigan leaning on her staff, keening and pressing a hand to the stitch in her side. Alistair flushed a brighter red and Sabhya briefly shut his eyes as if asking for strength.
This was becoming surreal. Leliana surreptitiously pinched herself again. Ow.
"So what happened?" she persisted, burning with curiosity while in the back of her head the professional in her was taking notes on ways to string along an audience. Or not.
"Blossom started getting upset. Every time Mother Hecuba referred to him as 'she,' he'd yip, or growl, or whine." Sabhya paused, distressed to have let down his friend. Alistair picked up the narrative.
"Finally, Mother Hecuba said something like, 'She's a chatty girl, isn't she?' and Blossom got up, turned around and kowtowed. With his tail up. So she could see his, er, his everything."
Leliana realized her mouth was hanging open and she shut it with a pop.
"He mooned her?"
"Really, if you think about it," Sabhya protested weakly, "it was quite a scientific way of addressing the misunderstanding."
"Sabhya. Your dog. Mooned. A Reverend Mother."
Cornered, the mage admitted defeat. "In a word," he sighed, "yes."
"And yet even that didn't work," mused Alistair.
"You what?"
"She thought Blossom was genuflecting to the statue of Andraste, and was so inspired she launched into an impromptu sermon on the spot. When she reached the line about our four-legged sisters, Blossom went over and did what boy dogs do."
"He..."
"He lifted his leg."
Leliana reeled in horror.
"He urinated on the image of Holy Andraste?" she choked, aghast.
"No, not at all, my dear," put in Zevran, smirking as he straightened and wiped his eyes. "But let us hope that the Reverend Mother has recourse to a competent laundry service."
