Beijing, China, 1900*
The riots and the fires outside were growing closer to the small apartment they'd procured just on the edge of the walled city. The rioters had exploded into a cacophony of voices in many languages, and they all blended together in a way that even if Anders had recognized any of the languages he wouldn't have been able to parse out the words.
He was fairly certain that he'd heard shouts of xixuegui** off in the distance, and knew that it was probably time to prepare to flee. She couldn't resist a revolt.
The wide silk tie on his high collar was slightly choking him as he packed together their things. She'd been so patient with him since he'd stumbled into her in Romania after his run-in with that clan of Dalish. Things hadn't been the same, but they'd been tolerable if not tense.
The apartment was too exposed, and the thin paper screens were not going to protect them if that revolt got too close to them. Not to mention that half the walls and the décor inside was made of damned bamboo. Not particularly friendly for vampire longevity.
But she had to have her view, and the sight of the palace from here was almost perfect when the screens were open, and she insisted that after over a hundred years together, they would be just fine. She wasn't going to let any mere humans stop her from enjoying the world if she wanted to.
He thrust a few more garments into their bags as the screen slid open, and Velanna swept into the room. Her face was warm with the flush of a fresh feed on her cheeks and it gave her a glow under the puffed coif of her pale blonde hair. Somehow it never failed to amaze him the way she could tear apart rebels in the middle of a religious riot and not get a drop of blood on her champagne-coloured satin dress. She brushed the front of it off, the high collar with the elaborate frogs down the front drew attention away from her ears nicely. She'd always been self-conscious of her ears, no matter how many times Anders told her that he'd been fond of them.
"There's nothing like a good massacre to get the blood pumping," she grinned at him sliding the screen shut, her chest heaving, something she did out of habit for his benefit since she didn't have to breathe.
"Aye, 'specially if the blood that be pumping isn't that of herself." He gave her a cheeky smirk and moved closer.
"You should go out and feed before we leave. I know how much you love a religious uprising." She placed a hand upon the front of his vest and arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow.
"I have my feeding done." He leaned closer to her, hesitating slightly, searching her face for some subtle change in her mood.
She frowned suddenly, the deep-set almost-scowl that had been practiced over many years of annoyance with him, with his condition. "On vermin. I can smell the stench of them on you." She shoved him away. "I thought you said you were going to stop that. That you were going to try. But instead, while we're out eating missionaries, you're waiting for your damned cat to drag rats to you so you can feast on their diseased blood! All while you secretly preserve the humans."
"I do," he looked sternly now, "an' without that cat I'd starve. I've been trying."
"Not hard enough! You want to stay with us, then be one of us. Don't live apart from us! You and your filthy soul!" She swung at him and scratched his cheek with her well-manicured nails, "If you want to be with me, prove it."
"Prove? An' how would I do that?"
She gave him a hard look for a very long time, then glanced significantly at the grey cat weaving around his feet. "You're so fond of eating filthy animals, then make this your meal, and follow me out into the excitement. I heard there's a slayer ripe for the plucking."
"Wiggums?"
"Yes, if that's the ridiculous name you've given that useless creature. Eat it, and we'll be on our way, or," she stepped back a few steps, smashing one of the elegantly carved chairs and pulling up the leg and holding it in front of her, "I'll take my leave of you here."
He looked between Velanna and the cat, the cat who had been his only constant companion since they'd arrived. He'd hunted for him, helped him avoid even having to feed on thieves and murderers. He'd saved his soul from the guilt of more human death.
Velanna would never understand that. Ever. She'd lived this way too long. Three hundred and fifty years had defined her to where there was no longer anything before the vampire she was remaining, whereas just the last fifty had changed him as truly as the day she'd changed him.
"I can't."
"Can't, or won't, Anders?" She moved towards him, her slippers muting the sounds of her steps.
"Take your pick."
She lunged at him then, her face changing and fangs sprouting from the porcelain-like features of her that had made her look harmless the night they'd met over a century before.
Anders snatched the cat up and dove through the screen into the riots of the night, running for both of their lives and not looking back.
Kirkwall, Present Day
"Well, personally, I think it suits you, forehead."
"Shut up. It fucking hurts."
"Well, maybe you should think harder before taking on an entire group of templars, then?" Kahrin rolled her eyes, holding something close to her her chest as they walked in the door of Anders Investigations kicking the door shut with her wide-heeled boot. "Personally I think you got off lucky, that it was just a greatsword."
"Fuck you," Carver snapped.
"Not like that you don't. Sorry, broody. I prefer my rides more intact."
Saoirse looked up from her desk where she was trying to alphabetize the invoices. "What the hell happened to you?"
Carver gestured at the greatsword that was currently impaled through the middle of him. "Someone," he shot Kahrin a grumpy look, "ran into the middle of the Gallows to rescue that thing."
He grimaced and pointed at the orange tabby that Kahrin held in her arms and she responded with a lewd gesture. "No one said you had to play hero and run after me. Isn't like I haven't been run through before. Not too far off from being stabbed with a knife."
"It's a cat, Kahrin."
"He's cute. And I think you boys need one around here. A little less with the sharp objects and maybe some more with the soft and cuddly. You like cuddly, remember?" She gave him a very pointed leer.
"That," Saoirse pointed, "can not stay her. I'm allergic."
"Since when?" Carver glared at her.
"Since always, you ass. And get that out of you. It's gross. Bad enough I have to listen to you two … talk about things." She waved her hand at them and focused on her filing.
"Well, then get some Claritin or something, because this little guy is here for the long! I'll bet he'll just cheer the place up. Or whatever it is you two do when you aren't sitting in the dark and brooding over your blood habit."
"Who will do what now?" Anders stepped out of the lift and looked up into the room.
"Fantastic," Saoirse said, tightening her ponytail. "Now we'll never get rid of it." She forced a smile.
"We rescued him from the Gallows. I figured, a couple of vampires living alone could use a buddy. To keep the baddies away when Red isn't here to spook them off with that fantastic glare."
Anders' eyebrows shot up and what could pass for an almost happy expression crossed his face as she shoved the tiny cat into his arms. "For me? Really? I haven't had a cat since … well it's been over a century." He cradled him affectionately, looking immediately fond of him.
"Well don't go getting all gushy on me now," Kahrin said, planting one foot on Carver's ass and gripping the pommel of the sword. "Really, no hugs. That always end poorly for us." She yanked hard and pulled the blade clean out.
"Ouch. Shit! That never stops hurting." Carver grumbled and ran a hand over the hole in his shirt. "I liked this shirt too." He pulled the back around to try to inspect the matching hole on the back.
"Stop whining, ass." Saoirse didn't look up, two-finger typing and squinting slightly at the screen in front of her.
"How about if I shove a sword through your middle and see if you whine?"
"Why don't you just shove off?"
This never stopped being irritating. "Shut up, both of you, you're upsetting the cat. He's been through a rough night," Kahrin gave the tabby a scritch on the ears, still holding the sword, and watched as it put it's tiny kitten paws on Anders' face.
"He's had a rough- no. Never mind. You're so making this up to me." Carver stomped over to the first aid kit and pulled some gauze from it and began an attempt at patching himself up.
"So, you gonna name him or what? I don't think 'Gallows Cat' is particularly shiny or happy, but ya know, I have no idea if vampires even keep pets …"
Anders grinned a bit, as if he'd already been thinking about this. "An Ridire Pounce," he said, simply. When everyone blinked at him, he shrugged. "Uh, well, you know. Sir Pounce-A-Lot. Like a noble Irish knight." He held the cat a bit aloft and regarded him.
"Right. Sounds good and fierce." Kahrin arched a Cousland Eyebrow at him as she wiped Carver's guts off of the sword and tossed it at the cabinet in the corner.
"I'm not calling him that," Carver scowled.
"Shut up, Carver." Saoirse kept typing, but obviously had to be involved, even though she neither wanted nor liked the cat. Though, it was probably the stupid grin on Anders' face that made her defensive.
"You don't have to call him anything." Anders had no attention for anyone else in the room, and Sir Pounce was now snuggling against his face, purring loudly.
"Great," Carver muttered, trying to get the medical tape off of his fingers and onto the skin of his abdomen, "so now we have a cat."
"Now you have a cat." Kahrin took the tape from him and patched up his wounds, patting him on the ass once to get him to turn around so she could get the wound on his back.
Seemed like it they were all kind of clicking into place, whether they admitted it or not.
*This is during the massacre of the walled city during the Boxer Rebellion in Beijing.
** Literally: blood sucking monster; Mandarin for vampire.