"My dear Ms. Lavellan, I'm afraid I don't know what to do with you," Dorian spoke almost too placidly, the articulate spill of his words over her ears left them numb to all but the innermost surge of a pulse. She wanted to rip her hand away, but his venom-laced poise had already worked against her nerve.
"This is quite the quandary of a position you've placed me in, one I cannot amend forthrightly. To be so successful and troublesome at once. Rather like being in want of a little rain only to receive a monsoon." With his victim stunned to his liking, he patted the back of her rigid fingers with a rapid fetter and released his hold.
"I… I'm not following?" Once freed, Chiyo promptly returned all her limbs as far to the opposite side of the table as she could. Stuffed beneath the booth, balled into fists, she made note to count her digits and found them still whole and attached.
Men in the south were never this strange and seldom spoke with such contortions of the tongue. Her weary head ached merely trying to follow the tricky maze he was actively spewing.
"You see, in just a few days time you've transformed my favorite pastime of scrapbooking oddities to something much more profound and interesting." Inspecting his fork, Dorian twisted the silver piece before selecting a dripping slice of poached pear.
"But, truly, at what cost? At what value do we estimate these… advancements? How much gold to weigh against the discovery of the century?" He pursed his lips and pointed with the fruit-laden fork. Dorian stared at Chiyo with an intensity that would have made a less exhausted person expend the energy to squirm.
Abruptly returning his gaze to an abandoned breakfast, Dorian took a teasing taste of the speared treat. It sent prickling shivers running down her arms and legs at how this man could switch tracks so quickly, with such conviction she believed him possessed of two personalities, each unaware of the other's ruse.
"Are you trying to pay me, or offer a reward, because I'm not expecting you to." The last thing Chiyo wanted from this man was money. She'd foot the bill for her own breakfast too if it meant a moment's peace. Not that she was getting to eat any of it at present.
"A reward, ha! Get the ghost of my grandfather to tell me where he buried his first wife and I'll give you a fine prize!" The succulent morsel disappeared behind his amused lips. He chuckled, all the while chewing.
"Patronage is the correct a term, write it down so you'll remember. However, with you, I am not so certain. Too much risk, too many factors yet unknown, so much you couldn't possibly understand of the situation at large. I don't really like to gamble. Selling pieces of art is far more predictable and profitable. Besides, it's not in my nature to be so overly involved. Being the middleman, now that's the sweet spot. No legal risk of owning the pieces or buying them either! Ah, but I forget myself."
A lingering smirk shadowed about the corners of Dorian's mustachioed mouth. Each move of Chiyo's felt watched, points deducted as her mannerism were placed beneath his shrewd scope. The dirt on her sleeves, the tremor of her fingers as she sought to place them around the cup's handle, the unredeemable slouch that marred her shoulders, the dark rings beneath her eyes, all passed beneath unhidden appraisal, and likely found to be lacking whatever qualities Dorian sought.
Good. Then maybe he'd soon grow bored with her.
She did not exist solely for this fellow's amusement, and her work was not designed for the private consumption of a select few. Silent willfulness was all she dared.
Chiyo reclaimed her coffee in a staunch act of rebellion, equally vexed as she was confused. Her words she kept at bay until it was fully decided upon what game the chatty man was playing at. Which was he, madman or genius, furious or pleased? Perhaps a cultivation of both… but she couldn't yet be certain.
"Now, enough sidestepping of the greater issue. My favorite photographer is in shambles after only a few short hours in your illustrious company, I simply cannot allow you to damage him any further. He's enough to dodge and worry over." Onto a plate, Dorian served himself a crumbling little square of spinach pie topped by several sheets of paper-thin crust that blanketed the moist delicacy. With precision, he shaped it into perfection, not a crumb out of place.
"Solas has always been consistent in fueling my little habit over the years... as much as I facilitate his. Thus far, you have only proven to be chaos embodied behind a sweet elven face. But I must admit you also produce results of the likes I've never thought possible. You see my conundrum?"
The drag of chair legs across the wooden floor announced a presence and both turned to see their long-absent companion.
"Are you quite done harassing your guest?" Though his words were brusque in make, Solas' voice still fell flat with the weariness of their night's excursions.
Dorian hadn't been far off to say his outfit would be out of taste. The fit was the least concerning detail.
Don't you do it!
Chiyo held her breath to stop the onslaught of snickers and snorts after the first sputtered into her coffee. Her eyes grew wide and began to dampen with strained tears at the sight of exposed ankles that poked out from pant legs much too short. The loose, drapey cut of his tunic had him covered, but the color and print left his embarrassment a palpable aura.
Height of fashion or not-batwing sleeves and boatnecks- a youthful trend smeared over the latest magazines, Solas' pale skin simply wasn't meant for the strong hues of saffron paired with looped, green batik…
"Look, not a stitch of grey or beige to be had on the whole garment! It only took ten years, but what a transformation."
Dorian's praise did not seem to bolster his glum friend's spirits as he deposited himself at the end of their table.
A stolen glance down revealed the beginnings of shins and calves as the crisp hem in the cream linen rose ever higher. If he hadn't been entirely miserable before, he certainly was now.
"And my dear mother Dorian wonders why I don't come to visit more often." With a thrust of a fork, the prepared plate of pie was blatantly stabbed, dragged and subsequently tucked into before the first whine of a complaint could be issued. "It's best just to ignore him. If he actually meant to turn you out then he'd have done so already. He won't be satisfied until there are tears spilt, curses spat, or a threat to strangle him."
Arms crossed over his chest, Dorian was sore with rebuttal. "Always ruining my fun, and what did I say about those cogs? Much too tight, how can you even breathe."
At that the a Tevinter gentleman actually leaned back to take in the entire ensemble. "On second thought, perhaps you should roll up the pant hems to the knee, at least then it will look on purpose. My great aunt Vasilia the II always said if you must look a mess make it a stylish one, and hold your head high! Bless her, and those awful wigs."
Rescued from being the center of attention, Chiyo was at last free to grab a meal and indulged in a cherished routine of some manner of bread and creamy spread. For a few savored bites that helped to lessen the pangs in her belly, the world began to resume some degree of balance and tranquility.
"-You were late, what was the excuse this time? A new beau or another brandy tasting gone awry?-"
Sleepily lost to the notes of cinnamon and cooler morning air, her attentions drifted from the continued squabble and tired bickering of men. Discluded from the familiar repartee, the haughty jabs, and curtness, there was a content quality to being utterly ignored.
"-There would be an apology, but my life doesn't simply go on hold whenever I feel the urge to go galavanting off chasing shadows. At least I finished my work, unlike-"
It wasn't long until the act of chewing became too taxing and the moderate comforts of her seat offered her the luxury oft afforded to elderly men in favored recliners.
This was it, the gendered secret coveted above all others. To embrace the base need and become one with the Void… The full-bodied initial flush of sleep tingled just beneath her skin. It was so simple, just a few more breaths and-
"I'm going to go back."
Gone.
"What?!" She sat up with a lurch, knees striking the hard surface above. The dregs of her now cold drink were sacrificed in the upset but mostly caught within the rattling saucer. Chiyo awoke to a world of eyes. Drawn on by her outburst, the waiter with his tray, the barista behind a rush of steam, a lone early-bird patron at the threshold, the trendy Tevinter tyrant across the table, all stared at the little elf making too much ruckus to be polite.
Only one kept his eyes to himself, refusing to even so much as lift them from a firm affixment to his lap.
"After all that-that disaster, you'd put yourself through it again?" Silence was the only answer Chiyo received as she gaped at a man who could not possible hate himself so much to be re-subjected mere hours after escaping a nightmare made real. What could possibly be so important or worth knowing that made the risk of anguish even an option? There had to be more, something unshared, perhaps even purposefully kept unsaid.
Even Dorian joined the mummed ranks as he took to transforming the uneaten portions on his new plate with a spoon. It seemed his acute case of the verbal runs had finally been cured.
"We'd only just begun to scratch the surface before…" His face paled and he was quick to change course in their conversation. "There is no reason to feel compelled in helping me again. Let there be nothing owed or asked between us."
Solas' voice dropped, but the volume couldn't mute the stirring fear in his tightened throat. "I have my reasons to research, and I'm not requesting you to rejoin me if that is your concern."
Like hell she wasn't.
Chiyo leaned forward, hands clapped to the table's edge. No one was going to deter her from what could be the greatest article of her career and get away with it.
"Absolutely not."
Was that worry or relief that flicked across his brow at the firmness of her tone? Both were sufficient to rile her frayed emotions.
"This is my story, I picked this place. You're not going to chase me off this find so easy. After a change of clothes and a few hours sleep, I'm getting what I came here for." A week from now her name could be splayed out on the front page. She would be the one lined up for interviews instead of hounding them hundreds of miles from home. All her hard work, years of snippet, second-string journalism and being printed last-in-line before the advertisements section, it could finally pay off.
Solas finally lifted his eyes, narrowed, measuring, and entirely uncertain what to make of the roused beast lurking behind a sweet face, one that looked right back at him with a stubborn, ragged grin.
"Hope you have more film packed. We've got work to do, photographer."
"Mmm, feisty." Dorian chortled behind the fingers pressed to his lips. "I might just like this one after all."
"Excuse me? Sir?" Chiyo tapped thrice against the thick glass of the baggage claim office. The thin-haired man inside had tottered oblivious before her several times already as he shuffled parcels, packages, bags, suitcases, and small crates into various piles, cubicles, and bins.
She waved the numbered stub at him, though sleep deprivation did little to bolster any patience left in her being. This was too much hassle for a woman in want of her things. If she'd known the annoyance in retrieving a single rucksack previously deemed too heavy to hoist along on their stalled adventure, she would have carried it all through the cemetery instead of storing it for the night.
With a grumble, she leaned against the box window. Solas had already gotten his belongings returned to him by a much more speedy person who only paused long enough before a change of shift to take one slip. Now she was at the mercy of an old, bumbling geezer who took more notice of the straightness of pick-up tags than the huffing elf just beyond the slotted screen.
Through the loosely milling morning masses, Chiyo spotted the others, parked on a bench. It seemed no sooner than he sat down, that Solas' head fell towards the luggage held tightly in his lap as desperate sleep took him, willing or not.
"Stub please."
Not even a forced smile could be afforded as she submitted the receipt and prepared for yet more insufferable waiting. It wasn't like she was in any hurry to collapse onto the nearest bed, wherever that may be.
Dorian had inquired-or more aptly-harassed their waiter as they left for potential, quality stays. The lakeside town wasn't known for its thread counts and maid services, instead, it appealed to those with more rustic, simple tastes, this peaked season now filled by the fishing enthusiasts who flocked in droves to the plentiful lakes and streams. Pilgrims making their rounds to the homely institutes of faith nearby claimed that the welcomed change of pace, and free from the main city's many distractions, helped them feel divinely closer to their Maker. There wasn't much draw for socialites unless nature walks and week-long game hunts in the wilderness were their aims.
Where he'd settle for lodgings was anyone's guess. So long as her own board was cheap, Chiyo rightly didn't care.
No other sum or pleasure could be better gifted now than that of plump pillows, scented bath soap, and silky night shirts…
Salvation had come at last. From the organized chaos, she watched as her vessel of hope hoisted high and double-checked, then escorted towards the latched hatch.
Just as she began to imagine the comforts contained just a few feet from where she stood, Chiyo felt a tug as an unwatched strap slipped down her arm.
It was fast. The instinct to grab came swift even before comprehension registered. Her satchel!
The leather thong pulled taught in a twist around a stout wrist. A short woman's fingers clasped around bag's precious bulk.
Chiyo pulled, hard, and before a word could even be exchanged, the dwarf struck with a heavy, grazing fist.
"Snooping bitch."
Her whole world went red.
Ruddy hair coiled beneath a cap was all she saw beyond the knuckles of the assailant who vanished after a few strides. Red-hot rage rang in her ears, seared by pain when her knees knocked the floor. Ruby smeared on her hands that gushed from her nose and over her mouth. Rust on her tongue that traveled as the first few breathless, gagging whimpers moved her aching jaw in stunned horror.
Alone amid the chaotic cries of a confused crowd, she scrambled and faltered, unable to rise or see past the cradle of bloody fingers. With each passing second, the satchel that brimmed with her work, her tools, her livelihood, slipped further and further away.
Chiyo crumpled below baffled strangers. For the first time in her short life, she surrendered, and truly tasted defeat.