Trouble finding editors, sorry. I have one person who's pretty consistent for once a week, and some other people who come and go, sometimes getting through five or six chapters in a couple of days, but then not having time for another month or two. I also don't need an editor all that often, it's just that when I do, I've usually fucked up big time. Like...totally rewrite the chapter because it's not conveying what I want it to convey, or add in a previously unplanned chapter because the lack of information is getting frustrating for the reader. Editing for me would probably be more rewarding if I just needed to be reminded not to change verb tense in the middle of a sentence every so often or something.

Things That Count

After Solas won the first five hands of diamondback, Varric banned him from playing - much to Blackwall's amusement. The Warden had held from the first that Solas shouldn't be dealt in, though he had declined to explain why. "Counting cards is cheating, Chuckles," Varric admonished him cheerfully, "and I don't let anyone claim otherwise."

"Counting makes it sound as though I am consciously keeping track, Master Tethras," Solas retorted, well into his third glass of wine and more openly confrontational than I had ever seen him, though he was, simultaneously, also more relaxed than usual. "I cannot help what I remember or the instincts that arise from my memories. I am not consciously calculating odds."

Varric regarded him for a long moment. "Well, that's terrifying."

Luckily Hawke announced that she was also finished - apparently she wasn't a fan of diamondback - and I was just as happy to be excused from another game in which I found myself on the losing end of every hand because I couldn't see anything. The three of us pulled up chairs around the fire and traded stories of our various journeys, which for me and Hawke meant actual journeys, and for Solas meant his exploration of places within the Fade. Hawke seemed almost morbidly fascinated by his tales of what he had found there, and the wine made him inclined to talk at greater length than he usually would. Leliana joined us at some point, and Hawke managed to get her talking about her time with the Hero of Ferelden - which wasn't a piece of history I knew a great deal about. What I did know was mostly through conversations with members of Clan Sabrae, who had been induced by the flood of darkspawn to flee north from their traditional range in the Brecilian Forest. Their perspective was, naturally, lacking detail regarding the human and dwarven response to the Fifth Blight. Solas seemed deeply interested as well, and so we drank and listened, occasionally interrupted by developments within the game. Josephine had easily won at Wicked Grace, but tonight Cassandra was putting pressure on her.

I wasn't certain who won in the end - or that it mattered. Without either the mild frustration of losing at cards or the much more consequential nerves from being prodded into telling a story, my drinking remained at a more moderate pace, and so Solas and I were only pleasantly tipsy when we left to go to my chamber. Once there, we had lazy, slightly drunken sex in my very large bed and fell asleep contentedly tangled up in each other.

Hawke left early the next morning to meet her Warden friend, and Harding went with her, taking along some of Leliana's scouts and a few soldiers to establish a camp. Though she wasn't precisely part of my inner circle, I had included her on the list of people I thought I ought to get Satinalia gifts for, and I was especially glad I had done so after I realized she would miss the more-extravagant-than-usual meal that the kitchens were planning to celebrate the day. Though Josephine's suggestions had run toward the soft and feminine, Harding didn't strike me as the sort to find comfort in putting aside the trappings of battle. Cassandra had agreed with me, and so I went to meet Dagna, the new artificer, to commission an amulet of protection against the cold. While I was there, I also had Dagna design gauntlets with a similar ward for Cassandra - I had noticed the leather on hers was worn and had even cracked in places, probably because of the time we had spent in the bog without any respite from the rain.

For everyone else, I stuck to Josephine's suggestions: oiled wool, halla-fleece-lined cloaks for Varric and Dorian, both of whom complained constantly about the cold; several exotic liquors for Bull; records detailing some unsavory but not-technically-illegal practices in several noble households for Sera, in addition to a book of dirty limericks I managed to acquire through Varric; candied orange and lemon peel for Vivienne - apparently her favorite and difficult to find in the south outside of Val Royeaux; a set of ironbark-handled, silverite-bladed woodworking tools for Blackwall; a pair of very pretty shoes embroidered in silk with a halla pattern, as well as a matching handkerchief - which I managed to make myself in the time available - for Leliana; and, finally, a nice chess set for Cullen, with the promise that I would let him teach me to play. Leliana helped me pick a gift for Josephine: some good-quality parchment, and a new style of pen that had been developed by the Mortalitasi in Nevarra, supposedly more comfortable to hold for long stretches of writing than a quill. The Mortalitasi apparently kept a lot of very detailed records.

For Solas I was on my own, of course. He didn't celebrate Satinalia any more than I did, but I wasn't going to leave him out if I was giving everyone else gifts. I wished I had known about his artistic proclivities sooner - I might have gotten him something more in the vein of what Leliana and I had chosen for Josephine - but I hoped he would like what I had settled on. Noticing his taste for sweets, I asked Skyhold's cook - who happened to be Orlesian - to teach me to make petit fours, and Josephine found me a pretty box for them. I had also acquired some good-quality ram leather, and then magically bonded a length of knitted halla wool to one side, interweaving it with an enchantment to repel water. The resulting footwraps would be warmer and more comfortable than the plain leather I knew he usually wore, and would resist getting wet, as well, though the enchantment probably wouldn't hold up to stepping in a bog or something of that sort.

We all exchanged gifts the morning of Satinalia, and mine seemed to go over well, which was a relief. Solas disappeared almost immediately to change his footwraps. Afterward, everyone at Skyhold piled into either the great hall or the similarly large hall adjacent to the kitchens below, and we were served the beautiful meal that Skyhold's kitchen had been working on for days. It wasn't actually all that different from our normal meals, other than a few special items - roasted fish, better quality wine not cut with water, and an impressive cake - but there was more of everything than usual, and there had been no rationing of salt or butter. Everyone seemed inclined to enjoy it, including me.

After the meal, my inner circle retreated to the Herald's Rest, which had once again been closed for regular business - not that anyone was likely to pay for ale when Skyhold's cellars were providing wine for free. There were apparently a number of games that were traditional on the holiday. There was snap-dragon, in which one had to snatch nuts and raisins from burning brandy, and royal pudding (or sovereign pudding, or gulder pudding, depending on what sort of coin was being used) in which a flour-and-water concoction with the consistency of pudding was covered in flour with a coin balanced on top. Then we had to take turns cutting pieces out of the "pudding," and anyone who made the coin drop had to retrieve it with their teeth, getting a face full of flour in the process.

Sera also played a game of her own in which she (or, more likely, her co-conspirators amongst the servants) moved sprigs of mistletoe about the room while everyone was distracted, and any pair caught beneath a sprig had to kiss. Sera mostly seemed interested in forcing Vivienne and Dorian - and, to a lesser extent, Josephine - to kiss servants, but she also got a great deal of pleasure catching Blackwall with the ladies he considered of "high rank" (including me). His blush was rather funny, although she shifted some of her attention to Cullen when she caught him by accident and realized how readily he blushed.

I ended up kissing Blackwall and Cullen at least three times each. Solas wasn't pleased, though I only knew it through our bond. Outwardly he didn't even seem to be paying attention, but I could practically feel his irritated growl rising in my own throat every time I got caught.

The only person Sera got Solas to kiss was Vivienne, and that was, admittedly, very funny. They both looked so utterly disgusted with the entire routine, even though Vivienne gave him the air kisses she offered everyone. Afterward she couldn't resist getting in a jab: "Solas, my dear, if you need some oils to scent your bath water, you need only ask. I could also find you the services of a perfumer adequate to your...needs."

"That is kind, Vivienne, but I prefer to taste the actual flavors in my food, rather than the scent I have doused myself in," Solas retorted.

Eventually Dorian tired of Sera's manipulations, and took control of a sprig by the simple expedient of breaking its string and tying it up where he wanted it, after which he shoved Sera underneath it with all sorts of people: Varric, Bull, Leliana, Vivienne, and, ultimately, Dagna, who had been dragged out of the undercroft for the celebration. I thought Solas only escaped by remaining carefully on the other side of the room. I also thought Dorian's choices of Leliana and Dagna were more reward than punishment from Sera's perspective, given the quirk of her lips after each of them.

After Dorian had abandoned his mistletoe sprig, Solas pulled me beneath it to claim the kiss that the game had denied him. He surprised me a little with his fervor - not that he felt it, but that he was willing to show it. His hands pulled my hips firmly toward his as he bent his head to nip my lower lip, his tongue darting into my mouth as soon as I opened it to inhale in surprise. He tasted like brandy from the snap-dragon game, and I was tempted to leave the celebration behind and take him to my chamber immediately. " Ar lath ma, vhenan ," I whispered desperately against his lips.

"Ar lath ma, inansha'lan," he replied.

"Now, now," Leliana said, coming up beside us and placing a hand on my shoulder, "not too much of that. We don't want the two of you to be paying so much attention to each other that you miss the rest of the evening."

"Is the rest of the evening likely to be more interesting than the Inquisitor?" Solas asked, one eyebrow raised.

"I can't promise that ," she chuckled, "but I think Inana may appreciate blind man's buff. Especially Fereldan rules."

"Those aren't Fereldan rules, Nightingale," Varric called out. "Everyone knows the drunkards in Starkhaven were the ones who made it into a drinking game."

"I think not, my dear," Vivienne disagreed. "Ostwick is the much more likely source. Their well water is famously mineral in flavor - quite dreadful, truly - and so they drink like dwarves to avoid actually tasting it."

"You may have a point, Iron Lady," Varric allowed. "But the real point is that the Inquisitor isn't allowed to leave yet."

"Precisely," Leliana agreed.

So I stayed - stayed and played blind man's buff, which was very entertaining, and which I was very good at when it was my turn to be "it." Fereldan - or Starkhaven, or Ostwick - rules stipulated that a new round with a new "it" didn't begin until the current "it" had caught someone and made an attempt at guessing their identity by touch. If whoever was "it" guessed wrong, they took a shot, though the person they had caught still became the new "it." If they guessed right , the new "it" took the shot.

I was the only one who never guessed wrong, though I had to take a couple of shots when others guessed me correctly. Solas, alas, was very easy to guess thanks to his bald head, and ended up taking as many shots as Bull, who weighed two or three times what he did. I had to practically carry him back to my room, but it was fair - he had seen to me when I got too drunk. He had switched entirely to Elvish by then, and it was difficult for me to make out what he was talking about most of the time. He kept using words I had never heard - himuna or himunan was one he repeated often. I recognized the root: hima, to change. Himun would be an object or process that had the quality of change. Himuna would be the action of whatever that object or process was. But in context, I just didn't understand what he meant by "himunan hyl ir'son, te'ame silras."

Regardless of what himuna meant, he was very drunk. Luckily water, a bed, and me curled up beside him quieted him, and he fell asleep with his head pillowed on my shoulder.

Inansha'lan: Pretty one

Himunan hyl ir'son, te'ame silras: I metabolize alcohol very well, I am not/cannot be drunk

The thought of Solas getting drunk and basically revealing that he knows way too much not to be one of the Elvhen, but doing it in such ancient Elvish that no one understands what the fuck he's saying, is very funny to me. I mean, he could tell Inana he was once considered one of the Evanuris, and she would have no clue what the significance of that is at this point.