Where The Party At?

She didn't know where she was or how she got there, but she was happy that she was somewhat drunk since she was partially nude in heels walking through 3 feet of snow. The invite online from her friends detailed a party not too far off the 105 freeway in inland Los Angeles, yet somehow, she ended up in the snow. It doesn't snow in California, right? She adjusted her dress and fluffy hair as she tracked towards a light; she hoped to find a house and maybe use their phone since she seemed to have forgotten her things in her…Car? She looked back and peered into the abyss, trying to locate the vehicle, but only found darkness – her way was lit by the moonlight, stars, and green light. Her teeth chattered as she continued forward on her quest to civilization and maybe an Uber.

The weather was brutal. The chilled wind kept smacking her in the face like a dong. It sent aching shivers down her spine and made her wish she had worn something else – something warmer. She crossed her arms, hoping to protect her semi-exposed breasts from frostbite. She was cursing herself in her head. Where the fuck am I? And where are the cars, people, and streetlights? She sucked in the cold air, winching in pain as it brushed against her teeth. It is cold as fuck! She continued her walk, taking sips of whatever was left in her flask. The alcohol provided her some warmth and made her drunker – a state she could not really be in right now. Especially not in the middle of nowhere.

Her ears perked up when she heard a noise. It sounded like people, a lot of people, and they were? Singing, they are singing! She sped up her pace and headed towards the building that was hosting the party. This must be the place! Before entering, she looked at herself in the frozen barrel of water by the… pub? And made sure she looked all right. I look good. She fluffed her hair as she entered the pub. Chin forward and chest straight, she employed her baddest Naomi Campbell-inspired walk. She opened the door and sashayed her way into the bar, scanning her surroundings. This doesn't look right. She stopped once she realized that something was not right about this party. She seemed to have stumbled into a medieval convention or party of some sort, and everyone was looking at her weirdly. She looked around some more, taking note of how much her clothing stood out. While everyone else was dressed for a middle-aged winter, she looked like she was going on the stroll. I'm still the hottest bitch in here, though. She reminded herself as she searched for an empty seat in the overcrowded pub.

She spotted an empty seat next to a little person dawning an impressive display of chest hair and a man who seemed to be wearing prosthetic ears. As she made her way to the seat, whistles and catcalls were thrown her way:

"You look good baby, how 'bout we get out of here?" a sloppy drunk man dressed in armor yelled out.

"Nun uh, I saw the lass first. How 'bout I take you and give you a good lickin'?" the other drunk made lewd sounds as he licked his fingers.

She gaged in disgust as she finally made it to the table to sit down. She didn't know if she had interrupted something or that the seat was actually taken since the people at the table were staring at her intensely. She started to feel unwanted and even more out of place. She awkwardly cracked a smile before introducing herself.

"Hi, I am Kiki, nice to meet ya'll…and um, is this seat taken?" she pointed to the chair as she raised herself up a bit.

They all shook their head no and went back to their conversation.

Rude. She thought as she flagged the waitress down for something warm to drink. The woman appeared relatively fast and took her order.

"What will it be for you today?" the redhead smiled.

"Hello ….?" she struggled to find a name tag.

"Flissa, it's Flissa," the woman added.

"Yes! Flissa, do you have hot chocolate or maybe coffee? I am freezing my tits off!" Kiki jested.

Flissa's cheeks went red as she avoided looking down, "um…no, but I can bring you some mead."

"Mead? What the hell is that?" she scrunched her face.

"It's like a honey-sweet alcohol, it's okay and all we have, currently," Flissa said.

Kiki shrugged and signaled for her to bring the mead, "If that's all you have, I'll take it, I guess." She smiled as Flissa stepped away.

Kiki was stuck. The place seemed to be pretty dated. It was all brick and dusty. There seemed to be no electricity, and she saw that no one was using a cell phone. Where the fuck was she? She continued to glance around until she made unwanted eye contact with some really suspect-looking men three tables away, forcing them to draw her attention back to the table. Everyone looked so dated and judging by the venue, it was what they were going for. She started to fidget with her thumbs when she realized she did not see her friends – or anyone scheduled to be at the party. This doesn't seem right. The statement kept replying in her head. She closed her eyes and tried to remember how she got there; how did I end up walking in the snow? To her surprise, she didn't remember; everything before the walk was a blur. She started to panic internally, thinking about how she ended up here and how she would get home.

"Here's your mead," Flissa slid the tankard to her before walking away.

She took a sip and cringed at the flavor. It tasted like someone mixed a low-quality beer with a shit ton of honey. Nasty. She found it to be undrinkable, but it made her warm, so she continued to drink it. Her face failed to hide how much she hated the drink.

"You doing okay there, kid?" the hairy-chested man finally addressed her.

She shook her head as she took another sip of the mead, "Kid? I am okay..?"

He smiled widely for her, "Varric Tethras, and this is Bianca," he pointed to his crossbow.

"Oh…nice to meet you Varric and…Bianca," she awkwardly smiled again, gazing at the bow and the others at the table.

"So, what brings you here?" Varric poured her more mead from a nearby pitcher.

She took another sip after he refilled her tankard, "Um, friends posted about a party on Instagram. I think I drove the wrong way," her voice wavered.

"Instagram, what's that?" Varric cocked an eyebrow.

She looked at him, bewildered, before answering his question, "you know, like social media? You post statuses and like pictures?" she took another drink, feeling drunker than when she first arrived.

"Well, kid, can't say I heard of it or know exactly what social media is, but there is no party happening here, I can tell you that," he smiled.

Kiki rubbed her temples as she took in her surroundings once more; either all this was an elaborate off-the-grid party, or she was dreaming and still asleep in her bed. She pinched herself and found the latter not to be true. She took another sip of mead, barely getting it in her mouth. She felt her body slump as the effects of the alcohol became more apparent. Holy shit, what's in this? She stared into the cup as her eyes went wide.

"Are you sure you should be drinking?" the black-haired man glared at her.

"Yea, yea I am good…?" her words were slightly slurred.

"Maxwell Trevelyan and I think you've had enough," he gestured to mead.

She winked and nodded in agreement before pushing the mead aside, "Just because you're cute, I'll stop," she smirked flirtatiously.

To her surprise, the man started to blush. He turned almost red in color, causing the others at the table to look at them.

"Woah there, kid, you're making the herald turn colors – he's not used to that type of attention," Varric let out a deep laugh.

A faint snicker was heard from the man next to her. She turned to the man and became infatuated with his ears. Whoever applied them had done an excellent job; his ears looked like they had been applied by the best costume designers on the set of LOTR. She eyed them for an uncomfortable amount of time before gaining the courage to ask.

"Can I touch your ears? They are so beautiful," she cringed when she saw his facial expression.

He peered at her deeply before turning slightly red. Why is everyone blushing? She wiggled her eyebrows before asking the question again.

"Well, can I?" she employed a pledging expression.

Varric continued to laugh, "I don't think that's a good idea, right Chuckles?"

Her head swung around like it was on a swivel, "your name is Chuckles? Why did your parents name you that?" she wrinkled her nose.

The "elf" chuckled again, "my name is Solas. Chuckles is the horrible creation of Varric," he replied gracefully.

"Hey!" Varric protested, "it's a good name!" he began to laugh again.

"Solas, huh? That's better," she found his eyes. She noticed the man was quite beautiful with angular but delicate features. His eyes were blue with swirls of hazel and specks of green. And even though she didn't care for bald guys, his face and costume were doing something to her. She grabbed her mead as she found herself oddly craving its disgusting tang and took a sip. Maxwell watched her in displeasure.

"I am not sure how you're doing it, but this hobo elf attire looks really good on you," she winked at him.

Solas remained almost expressionless, but his cheeks seemed to get redder each time she gave him a compliment.

"Damn kid, the herald isn't enough?" Varric remarked.

Kiki shook her head before answering, "Nope."

Laughs erupted from the table.

"My kind of woman!" a huge horned man raised his tankard to her.

A woman with black hair made a disgusted noise as she down her drink.

Suddenly, a man with blonde hair appeared in the pub. He was wearing a lot of armor and a fur-hooded coat. Oh, he's cute. Feeling very self-aware in his presence, Kiki started to fix herself, first her hair, then her breasts, and then her breath. Everything looks good. Varric chuckled next to her as he took note of what she was doing.

"Cullen, nice of you to join us," the short-haired woman finally spoke.

"Cassandra, herald, and everyone," he tipped his head before sitting down in front of her.

She eyed him curiously as Flissa brought him a full tankard, and he began to drink deeply. He was beautiful too. His face was strong and chiseled. His shoulders were broad, and the cut on his lip just added to his sex appeal. His hair was curly and slicked back, and his eyes were a brilliant hazel. Absolutely gorgeous. The remnants of a conversation about war could be heard in the background as she gazed at him aimlessly. She did not know if it was her nerves or the alcohol, but she suddenly felt aroused. She took another sip of mead to fight the feeling, but it only heightened it.

Cullen coughed, releasing her from her trance, "is there…something wrong?" he looked at her.

"Oh, no… You're just hot. Have you modeled before? If not, you should," she winked as she took another sip of mead.

Varric laughed again as Cullen turned red, "That makes three, kid," he shook his head.

She started to respond but was interrupted once the horned man and a group of people began to sing:

"No one can beat the Chargers 'cause we'll hit you where it hurts.
Unless you know a tavern with loose cards and looser skirts!
For every bloody battlefield, we'll gladly raise a cup.
No matter what tomorrow holds, our horns are pointing up!"

Cheers roared through the tavern after the men completed their anthem. Everyone lifted their tankards and toasted. The tavern's atmosphere changed from slightly gloomy to hyped and chaotic as everyone seemed to take turns singing songs. She did not know what got into her, it was probably the alcohol, but she felt the need to sing. She struggled to stand as her heels made themselves like stilts; she stumbled a bit before catching her steps. She raised her hand and blurted out:

"Me! I have a song. Pick me!" her words were slightly slurred.

The room seemed to spin as her sudden movements fought with her blood alcohol level. Cheers and whistles erupted from the crowd of sober and drunk people. She beamed as she prepared herself and thought of a song to sing. Ahha! She had a eureka moment and grabbed an empty beer bottle next to her, cradling it like it was a mic. The noise from the crowd began to simmer as they watched her curiously. She cleared her throat and began to sing:

"Bitch, it's Young Tina Snow, the nastiest freak you know
(Murda on the beat, so it's not nice)."

Once the beat dropped in her head, she drunkenly climbed onto the table and began to passionately twerk. The people were stunned, but she continued anyway:

Bust through the walls, break in and enter
How many licks 'til you get to the center?
How many times have I heard that a man a dog
But scared when he play with the kitten?"

The room stilled as her performance came to a close. She scanned the room and saw expressions of both cringe, horror, and arousal. She suddenly felt like an absolute fool and began to descend from the table. Still, unfortunately, her six-inch heels did not want to leave. Once she took a step, she went flying off the table. She watched in slow motion as the beer bottle flew from her hand, landing on the floor, and her legs rag dolling right in front of her. God, I can't believe you put me on this Earth just to die in a dusty ass pub, but please let me survive this fall! Tears began to roll on her face as her life flashed before her. She braced for the pain that would most likely cause her doom.

"Great catch Herald!" Varric's voice boomed over the panic in the tavern.

She could not physically open her eyes; she was scared and embarrassed. Deeply embarrassed. She clung onto the very sturdy body of Maxwell as he guided her from the table.

"Kiki," he called to her, "it's okay; you can open your eyes." He was very close to her. She could smell the honey on his breath.

She shook her head "no" before turning towards the door. Her stomach started to turn as the fall, and her headache began to clash with the alcohol. She made a gagging sound, and his body flinched.

"Woah, kid," Varric sounded concerned?

"Maxwell, perhaps you should take her to rest? I do not think she is well," Cassandra added.

"Right."

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her back as he guided her towards the door. She was barely able to keep her balance. Luckily, another pair of strong arms helped her up.

"I will accompany you, Herald. I have had enough drinking today," it was the Commander.

Slowly they both lead her out of the tavern. She felt her body warm to the care and attention she was receiving. And they said chivalry is dead! She opened her eyes to thank her helpers.

"Thank you," her words were still slurred.

The men chuckled as she struggled to walk at their languid pace.

"What made you wear those shoes in such weather? Perhaps the common boot would have been more appropriate?" Maxwell smirked as he looked at her shoes.

"They make me feel hot," she jested.

"Well, why not just sit by a fire," Maxwell laughed. Cullen also let out a slight chuckle.

She cringed at the lame joke, "lol, very funny."

The two gentlemen shook their heads as they came to a cabin. They opened the door and set her on the bed – they started to assess her. While Maxwell seemed preoccupied with the length of her dress, Cullen was trying his best not to stare at her breasts. Oh…I know where this is going. She called to her arousal once more and posed invitingly.

"Ya'll wanna fuck?" her words were clearer this time.

The two men stepped back, in shock, and clutched their nonexistent pearls.

"Maker, why would you say…."

"Perhaps when you are sober," the Herald winked.

Cullen eyed the man, unable to believe his response.

"What?" Maxwell paused and looked at Cullen, "she offered."

The Commander shook his head as he prepared to leave.

She pouted, "that's too bad, we coulda had a good time," her lips made a kissing sound as she fell into the bed.

While it wasn't the softest thing, it was working its magic on her. She allowed herself to get dangerously comfortable as the strange but attractive men looked her over.

"Maker, this woman," Cullen chuckled as footsteps carried his voice away. Maxwell followed closely behind.

She listened to the sound of the wind as she slowly drifted to sleep. She still wondered where she was, but the daze from the alcohol prevented her from questioning her circumstance any further. She went to sleep, drunk and fully dressed.