Chapter 15

"Spin around for me one more time-slowly, slowly," Dorian demanded, twirling his finger in a circle. He was sitting on an overstuffed sofa in a garish fitting room as if it were a throne, considering the twentieth outfit he had asked Ellana to try on that morning.

"Dorian!" Ellana groaned, tapping her foot impatiently. The hot pink jumpsuit she was wearing was covered in random patches of sequins that reminded her of cancerous tumors. It was not a good look, baggy in all the wrong places.

Jumping down from the platform the store had positioned in between an accordion of fitting room mirrors, she sat down with a huff next to her friend.

It wasn't the type of place she usually shopped, the racks filled with garish clubwear. She had indulged Dorian as he had seen the promise of a one-of-a-kind option in the eccentric storefront display of glitter and cut-outs. Her resolve, however, was running out as the dubstep beats playing in the background turned up past an acceptable volume were giving her a headache.

She was doing her best to be patient. After all, this was finally the year Dorian Pavus would win the top prize of the UofO annual Hallow's Eve costume contest.

"I'm sorry that Bull's costume won't fit you. It's a bummer he's out of town with the Chargers for the evening." Dorian sighed.

"I'm glad I can serve as an adequate replacement," Ellana responded, not all together insincerely. "Please explain to me again, however, how a sexy Hurlock and its pet nug are the winning look?"

"You can't go for the obvious choices," Dorian rolled his eyes. "Last year first place went to Zevran who dressed up as a hot Chantry Sister. It was so lame."

"If I understand correctly, he hand-sewed and embroidered the robes, going so far as to fashion the headpiece from hand-woven swatches he made over several months."

"Semantics," Dorian protested.

"I think the romper I bought at the last store conveys more-how do I say— ineffable qualities of nugness." Ellana said. She resisted pointing out that the already purchased outfit was the right nondescript pastel pink shade, whereas all the ones she had tried on recently were more in the salmon range.

Dorian's brow furrowed deep in thought. It looked more, or so Ellana thought, that the man was contemplating a life or death decision rather than debating the minutiae of a costume contest.

"I think you are right," He responded less decisively than Ellana would have liked.

"Dorian, I have tried on every pink jumpsuit on this block." She got up and went to change back into her everyday clothes. It would feel good to pull on the all-black trousers and matching crepe blouse after feeling like a frosted cupcake.

"I might be a little overzealous about this contest," Dorian admitted to her with a languid sigh.

"I think we have a good plan," She offered supportively from behind the changing room curtain, before the two friends handed the pile of discarded jumpsuits to the store attendant and exited to the cobblestone streets of the Val Royeaux shopping district.

It was Ellana's first outing somewhere other than campus or the doctor's in two weeks, and the few hours shopping had exhausted her. Truthfully, she hadn't fully healed, and many nights ended with her placing a bag of frozen peas or carrots on her fractured ribs to alleviate the ache. The excursion had caught up to her, and she had to stop to catch her breath and lean up against one of the old blue stucco walls of a patisserie.

"You are doing great, did we push too far?" Dorian paused with concern.

Ellana didn't know what she would have done without Dorian and Bull over the last few weeks following the assault. After a dismal attempt at public transport, she had called Dorian, simply to ask if he could give her a ride back and forth to campus, surprised when she opened her apartment door to the mustached artist demanding a full explanation of what happened.

The following weeks, not only had Dorian and Bull shepherded her around town (along with a chatty Josephine), but they had also dropped off homemade casseroles, and insisted that she spend the night in their guest room on several occasions. "Easier for our morning commute," Dorian had said, a trick, no doubt to make her accept.

Truthfully, she didn't know how she could ever repay their kindness. Dressing up as a nug seemed like a fair, but inadequate way to show her thanks.

"I was fine up until a few minutes ago. I don't know how much longer I have left in me." She sighed, frustrated at her diminished energy.

"Do you still want to go to the craft store? It's in the suburbs, and the drive is a little over an hour. Would that be enough time to rest?"

"I think so. I don't mean to put a stop to the fun." She admitted.

"Oh please!" Dorian waved his hand and pointed down an alley, "Let's turn here, and you can sit on one of the park benches and I'll pull the car around.

The two quickly identified a spot for Ellana to wait. With a few minutes to spare, she pulled out her phone, excited to see a new message from Solas responding to a picture she had sent him of Dorian intently holding up a photograph of a nug to compare it to a swath of pink material.

xxx-xxx-3454, Solas Fen'Harel, 10:00 a.m.

I thought Dorian was a nug last year?

xxx-xxx-3245, 1:30 p.m.

Snoufleur. The ambiguity might have been the problem.

xxx-xxx-3454, Solas Fen'Harel, 1:32 p.m.

Ah, My mistake After all, I wouldn't want to misunderstand his genius.

xxx-xxx-3245, 1:35 p.m

The important thing here is that he will win 1st after taking 2nd 5 years in a row. A fate worst than losing

xxx-xxx-3245, 1:36 p.m

Or so he tells me. ;)

Ellana skimmed through their text messages over the past few weeks. The first few had been strictly business regarding the exhibition—mixed in with clinically phrased questions from Solas about her rib fractures and bruising. Over time, the exchange grew both more frequent, and flirtatious. The more she and Solas exchanged messages, the more she found herself wondering if she liked the neurologist. He was considerate, and underneath his detached persona, witty.

It was unfortunate that Ellana hadn't been able to see him since he had driven her home from the hospital. At first, she had been focused on recovering, but the longer their text conversations went on, the more she realized that she was looking forward to seeing Solas again.

in fact, they should have been meeting right now for their exhibition. Only a week ago, Solas had emailed her that he had to go suddenly out of town for a medical conference. Is he avoiding me?

Her thoughts were interrupted when Dorian pulled up the car, rolling down the passenger window, and yelled out to her, "Your chariot awaits."

Ellana walked as fast as she could manage, and got in, feeling a slight strain when she pulled herself into the large vehicle. Buckling her seat belt, she laughed when Dorian put the car in gear.

The two bantered a bit before turning up the radio when Dorian pulled onto the highway. Taking out her phone, Ellana resumed texting Solas.

xxx-xxx-3454, Solas Fen'Harel, 2:00 p.m.

I'm sorry I am too old for emojis.

xxx-xxx-3454, Solas Fen'Harel, 2:01 p.m.

Or so my assistant tells me when I send her the wrong one

xxx-xxx-3245, 2:47 p.m.

Such a hahren. Give Dagna a raise!

"I know that smile." Dorian declared, spotting Ellana's grin. "Is it-let me guess who we are texting? Maybe Solas?"

Ellana felt herself grow hot, a deep blush covering her face. She wanted to deny that was what was going on. Only all words failed her.

"It is!" He cried. "You've been texting him non-stop all week."

"About work," Ellana insisted unconvincingly. "We are planning an exhibition."

"I knew the two of you would hit it off," Dorian observed when they pulled into the craft store parking lot.

"So you were trying to set us up at the exhibition." She accused him. "Is it because-"

"No, it is not because you are both elves! You have the same-" He paused, searching for the precise word, "Intensity? You are both intense people."

"Says the man wearing gold pants."

"I concede that point," Dorian responded, throwing his sunglasses on the top of his head and unbuckling his seatbelt before they made their way towards the aisles of plastic flowers and miscellaneous crafting supplies, "Solas better ask you to dinner soon so you can get some of that elven glory, or I am truly concerned you will go insane. You have it bad."

"Dorian!" Ellana admonished him. "Solas and I are colleagues!"

"Uhuh. Come on, my little nug princess. You need some ears for the Ball."