Lavellan was grateful to be back in Haven - though she would never admit the fact to anyone, even under pain of death. It had been refreshing to actually do something useful - something including swinging a sword - but, as with anything involving shemlen, events in the Hinterlands had been fraught with politics. Who to save, who to cut down, who to help and how, who to discipline but not too severely, and worst of all, the unending talking… Those were too many questions for Lavellan's taste. Hunt down those who hurt, and spare the rest: that was justice in her eyes.
For the most part, however, the Inquisition had seemed happy with her results. She'd gotten the support of the Chantry shem, as well as convinced the shem horsemaster to provide them with horses. Not to mention she'd dispersed both the rebel mages and Templars in the region. While everyone around Lavellan seemed skeptical of her aggressive nature and her methods, no one could argue with their outcome. Lavellan was nothing if not a force to be reckoned with.
That last fact echoed in her mind (whether as a mantra or an admonishment, she couldn't tell) as Lavellan loitered outside Haven's apothecary. She had a wrapped bundle of dried and slightly crumpled herbs tucked under her arm. Lavellan felt foolish and awkward standing there, which only served to make her irritated with herself. It wasn't like she was bringing the idiot shem flowers (she flushed - indignantly - at the very thought) - she wasn't bringing Trevelyan anything. Lavellan was bringing the Inquisition medicinal herbs, for the good of herself as well as the rest of the troops. (That rationale hadn't stopped her from surreptitiously collecting the herbs when she was absolutely sure her companions hadn't been looking. She had a feeling Varric in particular would've pestered her incessantly had he found out what she'd been doing.)
Lavellan let out a sharp breath through her nose, resolving she'd wasted enough time and stepping forward. If her stomach twisted like a leaf in high winds, it meant nothing. The hut's door creaked as she pushed it open, a welcoming earthy smell wafting to her nose as she stepped inside.
Adan, seated at a small desk near the door, looked up, the drawn lines of his face smoothing when he saw who was entering. "You're back!" he said with the faintest upturn of his lips. "And-"
"In one piece!" Trevelyan chimed in from the other side of the hut, just as the healer uttered the same phrase. She was standing at a table littered with plants and other potion ingredients, pouring over a page of notes.
Adan frowned, shooting the mage a disgruntled look. "I told you not to do that. I am not-"
"Predictable," Trevelyan finished for him with a cheeky grin. This was apparently a discussion they'd had before. "No, of course not."
While Adan grumbled more or less under his breath, Trevelyan slid her gaze over to meet Lavellan's own and winked. Lavellan kept her expression carefully nonchalant, but there was a small, traitorous part of her that didn't mind the shem's antics. (Didn't mind - not enjoyed, and certainly she hadn't missed Trevelyan and her teasing and ceaseless annoying comments.)
"So what can we do for you?" Adan asked curiously.
Lavellan hesitated, fidgeting with the bundle under her arm. She had nothing against the surly shem - which was saying something, given that he was a shemlen - but… she hadn't anticipated on his being present. Which seemed absurd now - after all, this was essentially his hut.
Mythal's mercy, living with shems was turning her into an idiot. She could practically feel her ears flattening.
Adan cleared his throat, lightly but obviously to pull her out of her thoughts and prompt her to speak. Lavellan resisted her impulse to glare darkly at him.
"I...brought herbs," she announced to the floor, refusing to look either shem in the eyes.
There was a beat of silence that Lavellan hadn't been expecting, and she looked up. Trevelyan appeared surprised, her auburn brows arched, for once the mischievous glint in her eyes absent. Lavellan met her gaze challengingly, ready for whatever teasing comment would dance off the shem's tongue, but none came. Odd, Lavellan thought.
"Maker knows we needed more herbs, what with the new recruits and increased scouting parties. We can certainly put them to good use," Adan said, sounding as cheerful as Lavellan had ever heard him. "Right, Trevelyan?" he asked in his less-than-subtle way, noticing the mage had been quiet for a moment, which was a moment longer than she usually was.
Trevelyan cleared her throat, looking down at her notes. "Ah, right." She glanced up, seeming to have collected herself, and gave Lavellan a small smile. "Bring them over here, if you would, Lady Herald."
Lavellan crossed the room in a few strides, placing the bundle on the table next to the shem. Trevelyan unwrapped it, examining the herbs within. Upon inspection, they seemed rather pathetic to Lavellan's eyes, dried and everything intertwined together in one clump of leaves. But Trevelyan made a hum of approval.
"There's a little of everything in here," Trevelyan murmured wonderingly, teasing apart a few of the plants. "Spindleweed, blood lotus, embrium…" She shook out a stalk with bluish white flowers, tracing the blooms with her fingertips. "Maker, crystal's grace, too."
"You said only elfroot grows here," Lavellan pointed out, unable to mask the defensive note in her voice. She'd gathered all the herbs for practicalities' sake, she told herself yet again - the Inquisition needed herbs for potions and tonics and gods knows what else shems could fashion from them, and she'd happened across them. That was it.
Which failed to explain the flicker of satisfaction that snuck its way into Lavellan's chest at Trevelyan's reaction. No - Lavellan was merely happy to have her efforts recognized, that was all. It was perhaps a leap, but one that Lavellan granted herself.
"I...remember," Trevelyan said, looking back up at Lavellan. She ran a hand through her hair, brushing a few stray auburn locks that'd come loose from her ponytail behind her ear. "I didn't expect…" she faltered, glancing away, and Lavellan thought she could just make out the hint of a blush tinting the shem's cheeks. "Thank you, Lady Herald. This is very thoughtful of you."
Was the shem...flustered? The realization should've granted Lavellan a sense of victory or smugness at finally having the upper hand in one of their interactions, but it only served to throw her off-balance. She scoured her mind for a response, uttering the first that came to her.
"Solas picked them," Lavellan lied, though it sounded hollow and false even to her own ears. And idiotic. It was an utterly stupid thing to say, Lavellan berated herself, but she couldn't take it back.
And yet, the lie seemed to be just the thing to snap Trevelyan back to her usual self.
"Did he?" Trevelyan asked, a sly little smile snaking its way across her lips, the glimmer quickly returning to her eyes. After a moment, she added, "Well then, tell Solas he's a dear, and should there be a way I can return the favor, I would do so gladly."
Lavellan scowled at that, her jaw clenching, and she looked away. She shouldn't be annoyed by the easy way the suggestion rolled off the shem's tongue. Lavellan should've just handed the herbs over to Adan (since they weren't for the stupid shem mage, they weren't, they were for the Inquisition) and left. Or given them to one of Leliana's scouts to deliver, and never come here at all.
Trevelyan's lilting voice cut into her brooding thoughts. "You're pouting," the mage remarked. Lavellan glared at her. The shem grinned, though there was something just beneath her expression that seemed different, something that Lavellan couldn't put her finger on.
Lavellan's mind couldn't help flashing back to the last time Trevelyan had (mistakingly) accused her of...pouting, and then gone on to call it cute. Lavellan flushed.
"You are a special kind of tiresome, shem," she said, failing to inject any sort of venom into the statement and instead sounding exasperated. Which was still accurate.
Trevelyan chuckled, turning to the bundle of herbs and beginning to gently untangle them, leaving Lavellan to stare at her profile and the line of her jaw. "Ah, yes, one of my better qualities."
Lavellan pulled her gaze back up to the shem's eyes, though the shem wasn't looking at her. "One of your better?" she scoffed, raising a brow.
Trevelyan glanced up at her with a small smirk. "Oh, I assure you, Lady Herald," she drawled in a low tone laced with innuendo. "I have worse habits."
Lavellan felt something hot twist in her core, and her flush returned and deepened. Lavellan cleared her throat, which for whatever reason was dry as the summer plains. Her mind had gone suspiciously blank of any derisive rejoiners.
Luckily, she was spared of having to think of one when across the hut, Adan snorted. Lavellan jolted - she'd forgotten he was still there.
An annoyed frown replaced Trevelyan's smirk, and she shot the man a glare. "None of which include eavesdropping, however," she reproached, pointedly but in a neutral tone.
Adan snorted again, not looking up from his work at his desk. "Oh, I assure you, Lady Trevelyan," he echoed her words somewhat monotonously, with none of Trevelyan's flair. "I wish I hadn't."
Once again, Lavellan thought she saw the mage shem's cheeks pinken in a blush.
Lavellan cleared her throat again, fidgeting from foot to foot. She'd stayed long enough - too long, after all, she'd only come to deliver herbs to the apothecary - for the good of the Inquisition (Lavellan couldn't tell whether she believed the excuse more or less each time she reiterated it to herself). She moved towards the door.
"Thank you again, Lady Herald," Trevelyan called out, sounding downcast, though Lavellan couldn't be sure if that was because she was leaving or because of Adan's remark (not that she cared either way, of course). "It was thoughtful, truly."
Standing in the doorway, Lavellan turned, locking eyes with the mage. "Just...put them to good use, shem," she replied as gruffly as she could.
"Of course," Trevelyan said simply. She held Lavellan's gaze for a long moment, until Lavellan abruptly turned and pushed open the door and stepped outside, letting it shut behind her with a satisfying thump.
Lavellan sighed, her breath misting the chill winter air. With that over, she had the sudden desire to fetch her sword and hit something, preferably repeatedly, until she felt...harder, like steel, like her usual self. Perhaps Cassandra would agree to spar with her, or she could pulverize one of the training dummies.