She tried everywhere: the undercroft, the rookery, the stinky mage's quarters, the stinkier templar ones, even had a peek under ol' jackboot's desk. He put up a right fuss about her ass getting in the way, but no luck. Where in the tittering nugs was she?
Hopping up and down the stairs towards the not dungeon bits of Skyhold, Sera paused at a mighty statue perched in the middle of a big space. So much space one could march an army through it. Shit, they kinda did. Still, weird there weren't tables or fighting rings, or even some mad blood mage running through the stone room cackling. All it held was the statue, glaring at her. Puffing out her cheeks, Sera extended her arms wide as if her sides both gained an extra fifty pounds.
With deliberate stomps, she slammed her way towards the statue as if it cared, as if it'd attack.
She paused a moment, her life flashing back. After the shit she'd seen while under the Inquisitor's thumb there was a very good chance the statue might attack. Her stance locked up tight and she dug a finger into her bottom eyelid to extend it. "I'm watching you, rock," she cursed at the statue, when a string of bangs and very adorable swears erupted from the place where food came.
That had to be it!
Bundling up her...well, not skirts. Never skirts. Those tended to catch on things that weren't worth stealing. Still, she grabbed onto her hips and dashed towards the sound. Hurling open the door, she watched as a tiny head of brown hair cursed a few more times.
"Nug droplets," she huffed, a wooden spoon jabbing into a bowl. The poor girl tried to turn it, but the spoon seemed unmovable. Instead of the ash of the forge, or the dirt smudged off her enchanting box, it was white dust that covered her pretty hair.
Sera dropped her hands wide and shouted, "Widdle!"
The spoon ceased attempting to be stirred as Dagna turned to catch Sera standing fully in the doorway. Her pretty cheeks blushed under all those freckles, "Ah, it's you. Good. I was afraid it might be the cook, she's not happy with me. Taking over her kitchen, only for a day. Not much time at all. Not that I'm not happy to see you, Legs."
Chuckling at the rather romantic babble, Sera swept into the kitchen that looked as if an angry ogre tried to set up shop. Bowls were piled high on nearly every surface, some filled with piles of things. Could be dough, could be sauces, food stuff. Lots of food stuff everywhere. Her Widdle stood barely a head over the counter as she tried to inspect a book covered in flour handprints.
"What are you doing?" Sera asked. She grabbed onto the spoon, attempting to stir what Dagna abandoned, but found it too refused to obey her orders. Glaring at the mix, she slid the bowl in between her thighs, bent over, and with both hands attached began to move the food glue.
"You heard about the mages, the ones visiting," Widdle explained while watching Sera. She almost had it, the dough starting to slip a bit. Spitting onto her hands, she got a better grip and resumed.
"Uh huh, just what we need, more curtains running around playing with demons and...bigger demons."
"Well, these are...some of them helped me, when I was studying at the Circles. What survived the rebellion at least. And I thought, I wanted to...uh," Widdle extended her hand around the mess, "give them a gift of thanks."
Sera darted an eye up to her Widdle, the pair nearly on the same level as she bent over - which was how Sera liked it. "It's mages. Give 'em a stick."
"A stick?" Dagna turned her head in confusion.
"They're always," Sera's thought paused as the spoon finally dislodged. She moved to stir properly, when the concoction erupted out of the bowl and splattered on the ground. It made a great wet plorp, refusing to ooze into the stone grout. Barely blinking at the mess, she finished, "carrying around sticks. Figure they collect 'em or something."
"Ah, you mean a staff. That's rather different from a stick as..." Dagna blushed as she caught on that Sera was just playing with her. Knocking a toe into the cement blob on the ground, Dagna sighed, "I wanted to make them a treat. Desserts, cookies and the like."
At the mention of cookie Sera spat her tongue out, but she placed the now empty bowl back on the counter and focused on Danga.
Poor Widdle was banging her hands together in thought, "With it being a holiday I wanted to make their trip extra special. Make something amazing, but..." she waved her hands over the mess. "Smithing class didn't translate well to baking."
Sera pursed her lips in thought. She shifted the mighty book around, her eyes scanning through scrawling letters that looked like they fell out of one of Viv's tomes. There weren't even any pictures. What was the point of books without pictures?
"I'll help!" she announced, clearly to Widdle's surprise as the woman's eyebrows buried themselves in her hairline.
"You'll...I thought you hated baking."
"And skirts, and raisins, and straw stuck inside your leggings, and water soaked into your socks and underthings, and that film you get on soup that's been left out," Sera chuckled at her short list before turning to Dagna, "But I like yooou."
Her Widdle blushed brighter than a chantry candle, those brilliant eyes honing in on the book. Clasping her hands together and nodding, Sera said, "What do we need to do?"
"First you require proper attire," Dagna announced, causing Sera to glance down. Did she forget to put pants on again? That was a fun day in the great hall. Never seen Orlesian diplomats move so fast in her life, those stupid masks making it hard for them to find the door. When a few bounced against the door frame in panic, it was totally worth it.
"Here," Dagna pressed a folded up cloth at her, which Sera began to unfurl.
Frills, there were quite a few frills, and a bunny sewn onto the front. Why was there a happy bunny and frills? At her confused look, Dagna pointed at her own chest. "An apron to protect your clothes."
"Right," she'd heard of aprons before, just never worried about stains on her shirts. Only pompous windbags cared about stains. Folding the apron in half, Sera knotted it over her chest like a bib. "How's this?" she asked, proudly sticking out the protected blouse.
"It's..." Dagna rolled her tongue around a moment before smiling, "nice. This recipe calls for 200 grams of flour, 100 grams of butter, fifty..."
Sera must have made a strangled goose noise as Dagna paused in her recitation of a bunch of numbers and looked over at her. "Butter, can you bring me the butter from over there?"
"Got it!" Marching towards the stacks of barrels filled with white and yellow whatever made butter, Sera asked, "This is a lot of work for some robes you ain't seen in years, and years, and years."
"Thank you," Dagna accepted the butter and began to slice chunks of it up to drop in her bowl. "In Orzammar, it was...when it was someone's naming day, or an anniversary, or a feast, you'd celebrate with dessert."
"I'd only celebrate with dessert if I could," Sera added as she sat up on the counter. "Assuming pants have to be involved."
Dagna hefted up a bag full of some secret ingredient and began to measure it out. "Klientart's, that's what we called them."
"Clean farts?" Sera asked before breaking into a peal of laughter.
Her Widdle smiled at that, "They were the size of your palm with a crunchy brown crust and wedges of fruit inside. My mother was always..." At that Dagna's never ending smile faded a moment. Sera scooted across the counter and wrapped both her arms around her. It was a long reach, but worth it as Dagna nestled her giant brain into Sera's chest.
"Since I don't know how to make klientart's, I thought I'd gift my old professors something new. And exciting," Widdle was back to her usual self in an instant.
"How exciting?" Sera asked, her eyes sparking bright at the thought. "Does it explode? Turn whoever eats it blue? Maybe whistle. Ooh, whistling cookies. Varric needs a plate of those."
Dagna batted her eyelashes, easily hooking the wacky elf. "Wait and see," she tried to be all coy, but while dumping in a cup of white stuff added fast, "it should cause a cooling sensation within the mouth of whoever consumes it. Assuming I can get the ratio right and not freeze their tongue off. I'm pretty sure I can. 80%. 75 at least."
Her Widdle resumed attacking the bowl, this time the spoon obeying her orders, when she turned to Sera who was out of anything to do but watch. "Why don't you crush up the peppermints?"
"Crush?" Sera whipped her head over towards a pile of red and white candies sitting on a cutting board.
"The recipe calls for them, for decorating the top. You just have to-"
Hefting up a massive pile in her hands, Sera formed a fist around the candies and hurled them at the wall. A few broke, pinging off shelves stuffed with jars, but most stubbornly refused to be crushed. Growling, Sera stomped over towards them. They lay there, mocking her by remaining intact. Stupid candy.
With a glare in her eye, she hefted her boot up high and slammed it down on the candy. Red and white shards erupted around the room. Yes! Her heels stomped down more, turning the chunks into slivers, and the slivers into dust.
Take that! I'll crush you just like I crushed Coryphyspit!
Woo!
Sera was so lost in hopping up and down on the candy, she didn't realize she'd stomped it so good nearly all of it was now embedded into the soles of her boots. Hefting up a foot, she glared at the slick minty bottom on her heel. "I hate you." She mentally added peppermint to the list.
"The peppermints refuse to cooperate," Sera reported, washing her hands of the whole mess. She moved towards Widdle's side, when her dwarf dropped a cup into the sack of flour. White dust erupted into the air and began to fall like snow. A great swipe of it landed upon Sera's face, causing her to shake her head and dig at her eyes.
Dropping her mighty spoon of desserting, Dagna began to laugh long and hard at the white elf before her. Oh yeah. Think it's so funny. Sera reached deep into the bag, both fists full. As she realized the oncoming threat, Dagna reined in her giggles and began to step back.
"Wait, that isn't..."
Two tufts of flour flew at her face. One fully blanketed her hair until she looked like she went old and grey, while the other piled up on her shoulders. Dagna scrunched her face up, still clinging tight to the spoon while she began to spit out whatever flour landed on her tongue.
When her big brown eyes opened, ringed in a sea of white, she glared up at Sera. "You'll regret doing that," Widdle said in such a scary voice, Sera began to shake a bit. She wasn't really mad, right? She didn't mean to...
Bending over, Dagna got an entire arm load of flour to her chest as she shrieked, "This shall be war!" White powder erupted into both their faces, Widdle unable to handle such a might amount. Shrieking in delight, Sera and Dagna began to snatch up handfuls as they tossed the small flour balls at each other. Not about to lose, Sera chased after Dagna.
Widdle dashed around the middle counter, her laughter squealing out of her nose as she tried and failed to dodge all of Sera's mighty flour attacks. Skidding against the slippery and very white floor, Sera nearly fell to her knees. She had to drop her entire stolen sack to catch herself, which was when she looked right up into Dagna's face.
Those sweet eyes that'd sparkle in her bed were doing a bit too much of that. Her adorable little Widdle held an entire flour sack just above Sera's head. She wouldn't. She couldn't.
An unending blizzard of flour tumbled from the sky, blanketing Sera in nothing but powdery whiteness. She sputtered in the assault, swiping at her nose, eyes, and mouth to keep from drowning in baking ingredients. Somewhere beyond the wash she could hear Dagna cackling.
Before the last of the flour dumped onto her head, Sera lashed out and grabbed onto both of Dagna's arms. Her Widdle tried to slip away, but Sera had a tight grip. Pulling her close, she smudged the end of her floured nose into Dagna's. Those laughing brown eyes paused a moment and honed in on Sera's. Tugging her close, Sera tasted of Widdle's soft lips. Normally they'd be all whizz, bang, and wow, but now...
"Yuck!" Sera yanked away, spitting on the ground. Dagna did the same, trying to get the awful flour taste out of her mouth. It was everywhere, practically flour air. Could you breathe flour? Maybe not smart to try, could ask a mage later.
After scraping away her tongue, Sera turned and coyly caught her Widdle coated in the baking snow. This time Dagna curled a hand around the back of Sera's head and began to tug her closer. Her lips aimed right for the perfect ones, when a loud bang broke them apart.
"What in the Maker's name is going on here?!"
Sera caught the flash of gold before her brain figured out the voice. Lifting away from her Widdle, she spotted first the harried ambassador standing in the doorway. Slowly, she turned to take in the kitchen that was looking a lot more festive now. Nearly every surface was coated in white, giving it a real snowy mountainous look.
Chewing on her bottom lip, Dagna and Sera both stumbled to their feet. It was going to take a lot of work to clean this place up. A lot a lot of work. Dwarf and elf exchanged a look and both smiled.
Grabbing tight to Dagna's hand, Sera cried, "Run!" Their feet padded through the flour, leaving incriminating tracks as they peeled past Josephine and out into the great beyond.
Laughter threaded between the two as they escaped to freedom, practically covering up Josie's screaming gurgle of, "Sera!"