"What happened last night?" Adaar asked, sitting up with a goan.
It wasn't often that Varric ate his words. Did it even matter that he lied about knowing Hawke'a whereabouts to the Seeker and fell into this great mess that was the Conclave? Of course not, Hawke was safe. But watching Adaar observe the chaos that was Varric's little sanctuary in Haven and hearing Sera's loud snores underneath a pile of hay, made Varric wish he could take back his words from last night. Andraste's flaming panties, he was getting too old for this.
It wasn't as if he didn't know the power of his words either. He constantly used his silver tongue to protect his own away from the front lines. Hell, there really was no difference between the bolts he used in battle and his words. He was in all intents and purposes the father of his group when it was still in Kirkwall.
So yeah, he very rarely wanted to take his golden, writer's words back. If ever…ok occasionally…but not often… but if he could rank them, he would start off with everything he had ever said to Anders in that last year….and the words he said to Pomelia Adaar last night.
"You need to loosen up, Po."
She bristled at the new nickname. Of course she did. Pomelia Adaar was more uptight than Choir Boy but with none of that boring morality that teetered too close to 'holier than thou' territory.
Nah, unlike Choir Boy, the need for control defined Po. He heard tell that she was self taught, like Solas-but as far as Varric could tell, she wasn't content with what she knew being the ultimate answer.
He had walked past her and Solas knee-deep (or in Solas' case, thigh deep) discussion about spirits. Varric had turned on his heel and got out of dodge faster than even he thought possible.
It was too soon to even hear spirit talk.
He also had seen Po hanging closer to the Iron Lady, with a hopeful look on her face. 'Notice me.' It had said. 'Teach me everything you know'. He wasn't sure how far that would take Po. He still wasn't sure if he got Vivienne's measured yet. She and Sera had just signed on. It seemed like Vivienne liked the attention but he didn't know of she would still be as receptive if her student showed promise of surpassing her.
And of course, there was that issue of Po sitting in the tavern, surrounded by tomes- not people- and drinking tea-not ale.
He had seen Iron Bull sit across from her last night, trying to coach her into being approachable. She had bristled, causing the whole tavern to stop and stare. Luckily Blackwall decided to start singing- way more drunkenly than he actually was- and that saved her the scrutiny. Varric wondered if there was more to Gordon Blackwall than this boring hero character and had taken a mental note to get the full story later.
For Iron Bull's part, it had looked like he was making head way with Po. The books were off the table and a tankard had been in front of her. She had even taken a drink-never breaking eye contact, too. But after that she had simply glared Iron Bull away.
Varric sighed. He regretted offering to help Iron Bull to get Po to loosen up. It wasn't that she was Qunari. Although he had had enough of the Qun for a hundred lifetimes. He wasn't sure if her gender made him feel better- all of the Qunari- at least the horned ones in Kirkwall were male. And he certainly was suspicious of Iron Bull. Ultimately, Varric had landed that it didn't matter what race Po was. The important thing was that she could close those damned Rifts.
Still, as Iron Bull gave him a look that said 'Now you try' Varric did have to admit he wished he had never agreed to this.
But he was a dwarf of his word…well mostly, and tell Po to lighten up he did. Sera had joined them as well and made it her mission to get Adaar as drunk as possible….it took longer than anyone had expected. And that was how he ended up following the very drunk Po and Sera in the middle of the night at a distance to maintain the illusion that they were being stealthy.
Of course he had to open his big mouth to find common ground with Po through the way Cassandra treated both of them. She had perked up, finding common ground with him as they exchanged grievances. (Stabbing him in the book was still the reigning grievance).
And again, Varric had said something that he now wished he could've taken back. "Gotta admit, I enjoy messing with the Seeker."
Things had snowballed from there as it had seemed that messing with people was what she did best.
"Hey everyone! I'm gonna go prank the Seeker! Drinks are on me!" Po had declared, knocking back her tankard.
Two laps around Haven and they had been-thankfully- still no closer to even getting on track to do what they had set out to do. And the tight lipped, buttoned up, dry witted Pomelia Adaar was belting a song with Sera's soprano that was narrating what they were doing.
"We're off on a secret mission, some kind of secret plot," They had sung.
"We're gonna go…" Po had paused, forgetting what the brilliant plan was.
"Yeah!" Sera had responded a little too enthusiastically, bracing a wall for support.
They had hummed the tune under their breaths for a few bars before concluding, "…off and away but first another drink! Dah-dah-da da-da-dah!"
He had once heard Rivaini talking about a person's shadow self once when talking about the buttoned up Chantry folk who were the Pearl's best and adventurous customers. He regretted his words even more after seeing that Po's shadow self was every bit as intense as it's counterpart.
It had taken a while-Po and Sera kept getting distracted by getting another drink but eventually they had completely forgot what they had been doing- and then completely forgot to care that they forgot- and flopped down by Varric's fire and made up a dirty shadow hand puppet version of some Antivan opera before losing interest and falling asleep.
And this brought him to the present, Po wincing at the early morning sun and in embarrassment as Varric explained the events of the previous night.
"…and the chickens?"
They paused and observed the chickens in a makeshift coop, each sporting a make-shift name tag and tiny accessories that identified them to their Inquisition counterpart.
"You were intent on making chicken counterparts of us. You called it the Inqu-chicken."
She paused and counted the chickens. A look of panic registering across her face. "Wait, Varric, where's the Solas chicken?"
"Living in a farm up north, Po."
"I can tell you're lying."
Varric sighed and scooped up his own chicken counterpart. "Me? Lie? Never!"
The silence was cut only by the Inqu-chickens and Sera's snores.
"So next time Bull thinks I should lighten up…?"
"We oppose him at every turn, Po." Varric responded quickly and definitively.