Disclaimer: I own absolutely and completely nothing. Bioware has that particular pleasure.

Summary: A City-Elf/Bann Teagan collection of drabbles and one-shots based on a prompt table from an LJ-community. These will be more or less in chronological order with the faintest traces of added plot here and there. Will vary from drabble length to one-shot.

Author's note: two posted today because I have the idea this one is a horrible attempt at humor. The next is to apologize for this. And another request. I know I do not write that well at times, I know the last chapter was hardly anything worthy but truly, I'd prefer if people told me that nevertheless. Just a comment about how it could be better, yes? :\ And off we go. Oh. Please to remember religious comments are to be taken very very lightly. This is one foolish way to reply to the prompt.

In this chapter: Naked faith is to be taken literally. ..

011.

First, there had been Haven. For a village with such an inspiring name, it had been little more than a huge jumble of messy problems for the elf. Religious fanatics, a cult who would have made the Maker himself turn in shame if He hadn't been said to ignore his creations already, dragons and Sten. Maybe she should place aside a silver for each time someone tries to kill her. At the rate it is happening, she might just be rich in little more than a month.

The Caverns try her patience. The High Dragon makes her wish to be seven leagues on her way to Denerim. The Gauntlet makes her doubt herself, something she cannot afford to do at the time.

The elf isn't religious. Maker is a name she invokes rarely while meaning it. It is a watcher, someone who, if he ever cared, stopped doing so a long time before. Disappointment, perhaps, the elf can relate to that. Thing is, Tasha was never too religious to begin with. Maker is a name, the Creators are history, belonging to those generations who try obstinately to preserve the old traditions. Maker is nothing more than a name to her and the elf cannot truly say she is a pilgrim when the Guardian asks her so. She feels like a scavenger – a vulture as Morrigan called her one day.

Perhaps it is good – though not really – that the Guardian seems to know her mind and thoughts as well as if she had spoken them. It makes pass by him much easier when she doesn't have to second guess herself and her reasons. It allows her to enjoy the journey through the Gauntlet which is just as mind-blowing as she could ever have imagined. Shartan, to speak with Shartan - she's almost a little girl again, kneeling next to her dad and listening to the old stories with stars in her eyes. To speak with those who have seen a woman, a fighter in soul and body. She is not very religious but even she is awed and keeps silent on many moments. There is trust inside those walls, trust in herself and in those who walk with her. Which is truly amazing considering her doubts or the fact that Zevran and Sten walk right behind her.

It is the last obstacle which tries her patience, amazingly enough.

"Discard your earthly bonds and be renewed in the fire of the Maker."

She reads this and her eyebrow raises accordingly, eyes running through the words again and again as if to make sure she is, indeed, reading what she is reading. A holy experience, the guardian calls it. To be reborn as Andraste was. Last time she checked, Andraste was quite dead and none had seen her right by the Maker's side to say otherwise. And while the whole experience has been, on a whole, rather satisfying – minus the amount of attempts on her life she has suffered – Tasha is quite sure she can prove she trusts Andraste's disciples just as well with her equipment on. Especially since the armor has a certain fire resistance which comes really in handy at the moment. She just can't partake in this holy experience when all that comes to her mind are horribly mundane thoughts.

"Will it walk to us if we stare enough?" There's an idea. Maybe the fire will be put out if she stares long enough. Maybe the ceiling will fall. Maybe she will understand why Duncan hated elves enough to die before he was pushed into doing something as demeaning as stripping for a waste bin. No, sorry. A glorified waste bin with holy ashes. Morrigan probably feels as stupid about this situation as she does. "If you don't do it, Sten will give the example." She obviously does. Her eyes are staring hard enough to scald her neck, if that could be possible. It also says letting that happen is clearly a Bad Idea, capitals and all. Do it or else. A little like her mother but far less scaly.

Alistair should be there, Tasha concedes. With some luck the mere idea of anything female stripping around him would bring enough blood to his face causing something distracting. Popping eyeballs, perhaps. And he would appreciate this so called holy experience which surely she isn't doing. A description of her thoughts done at a later date will have to include that the vision of Andraste was accompanied by dreams of stabbing Zevran's eyes out and how the Maker ended displaying strangely perverted practices. No wonder the cult ended badly, the elf reasons, they make pilgrims walk through fire while naked. Odd events generate stupid people - Humans. Stupid humans. Elves only make one drink pure water and pray, not throw themselves into 'holy' fires.

"You know, I changed my mind."

One, two... "We are turning back now?" Right on time, Sten.

Anytime before Haven, Tasha might have been bothered by the veiled chastising. Sten is logical, trustworthy, a good sword to have at your side. Memories are too fresh in her mind though and, in those, he sounds anything but what she had once thought of him. This time, the warden isn't inclined to explain herself. She saved his life, she spared it again in Haven, she has no wish to bother herself with a third fight. The duo shares a glance, a long look as if issuing yet another challenge. Sten comments nothing else and his eyes fall on the golden trinket. Danger passes by.

"To leave so close to the end? Should you not give the example, my dear Warden?"

The one example she wants to give involves turning back and throwing the other elf into the chasm on her way out. Clean, no blood stains, no perverted innuendo in between the simplest words. Maybe the recent events pushed her a little further than normal because the only reason Tasha can summon against her proposal is how an assassin can be quite handy at times. Well, the chasm is still there, she concludes, the idea can be kept as a footnote just in case.

"No, we are still crossing," she replies simply, sheeting her blades for the first time in nearly twenty four hours. "But you are going ahead. And before you ask." Because he was about to, the leer in his face is enough to make even Sten have a sudden rush for modesty. "It's not that I want to see you naked. It's just that it's better to have a naked assassin burning himself than myself being naked and roasting. Off you go."

The Guardian might not be pleased but Morrigan's laughter is much more satisfying to hear. Shuffle of clothing after, barrier of fire left behind and an oddly annoyed elf after, the mage walks by the warden's side, laughter replaced by wryness.

"So what did we learn with this experience?"

"Cults are odd," Tasha says promptly, throwing the bag of ashes to Alistair. Carrying a dead woman's remains can only be done for so long. "Religious fanaticism is enlarged in small isolated communities, it should be stopped. Don't accept every mission which comes our way and stop following every fool's request. Andraste's servants were insane if they thought getting burned to death was proper. Someone in the Fade has to be perverted and it's not just Desire demons. And dragons should be killed, not worshipped."

"I was going to suggest bringing solely females next time."

"I was going to say I'm agnostic from now on. Can we leave?"

Note: Prompt 011 (Faith) from Troyed community table of prompts.