Sorry for the wait! I've had some stuff going on I couldn't ignore.
As always, thank you guys so much for all your kind words. I've even had a couple prompts sent my way! Though this particular ficlet doesn't answer any of them (sorry!), I promise I haven't forgotten about them. This one takes place shortly after my previous update 'Worth'. I wanted to show a little more about how their relationship started and who they both are outside of the whirling mess of the inquisition. It also occurred to me that this fic has more of an in depth description of Cha'cer than the previous ones. Hopefully that doesn't throw anyone off!
For those that are more curious about what Cha'cer looks like, I've updated the story cover photo with a picture of her in Haven. For the even more curious, I'd suggest looking into my art tumblr (applejuice-and-hemlock). The most recent posts are a couple sketches of her, and one of Nebulad/elvencommander's Saevin (who is adorable and precious and deserves all the love in the world).
Anyway, without further ado, have some nerds being awkward.
…
I
…
Midday sunlight filtered through the overly green leaves rustling in the arching trees above. The forest ceiling whispered in the light wind on an otherwise still afternoon. Cha'cer and Solas had ventured only a short walk from the camp. To call the body of water beside them a lake wouldn't have been accurate. It was, as Cha'cer put it, an exceptionally deep pond. However, much like the lush greenery around them, it was chock full of blood lotus petals, spindleweed flowers, and elfroot.
Cha'cer had her pants rolled up to just under her knee and had ditched her heavy jacket and clunky boots at the bank. Her brand new daggers were covered haphazardly by a large fern leaf—just in case. She had just purchased them in Val Royeaux and had spent literal weeks sharpening and shining them until they gleamed. She was not going to take any chances on them being stolen.
The water around her legs was cold and, despite her efforts, was still making small wet patches at the end of her rolled pants. She didn't mind. The chill of the mud and rocks between her toes was a comfort and the soft breeze touched the sides of her head she had freshly shaven just that morning. The tuft of hair on the top of her head was pulled back and banded like that of a traditional Dalish hunter with the ends of the tail just tickling the back of her neck. Her eyebrows furrowed with concentration as she tried to apply just the right amount of twist to the stem of a blood lotus. Just a little pinch there, a slight flick of the wrist and… She sighed. The petals floated away towards the rest of the failed attempts.
Solas seemed to be having much more luck on shore with the elfroot bushes. Like Cha'cer, he had abandoned his shoes and jacket. On top of the neatly folded pile was the charred jawbone necklace he was always wearing. He had pushed up the sleeves of his tunic to his elbows and somehow managed to avoid being scratched by the thorned bushes surrounding the smaller plants. He had set aside some old rags to lay the leaves on in a particularly sunny patch. They wouldn't be completely dried before camp, but it would make folding them without breaking them easier. He looked completely at ease, separating the leaves, roots and occasional handful of berries into neat groupings.
She didn't mean to stare, but a quick comparison between the wilting petals drifting aimlessly around her calves and the piles and piles of just… plants, had her irked. He'd even arranged the damn leaves in order of size. She brought a hand across her brow realizing only too late that it was coated in the green slick that traced the edges of the water. With a grunt, she pulled the top of her shirt up to wipe at her face instead and shook her head in disgust. A couple strands from her ponytail fell loosely around her face. The elf that had trained her to hunt would've reprimanded her ("a hair in your eye could mean distraction in a fight for your life!") or told the bloody keeper, but neither of them were present. Nor was she expecting the fight of her life any time soon.
Like unwelcome magic, the green scar in her hand twinged. Cha'cer absently wondered if the magic could have been what was hurting her chances of collecting particularly delicate flowers. Of course, it was utter bullshit. She knew very well that it was her own lack of delicacy but the nasty green glow made for a great scapegoat. The water rippled and she looked up. Solas was wading towards the patch of blood lotus she had been trying to tame without so much as a shiver at the cold. Cha'cer looked back at the flowers in front of her and wrapped a hand around the neck of her next victim.
"You may want to grasp it a bit lower," he said quietly, taking one of the stems next to hers as an example. He pinched the stem between slender fingers until it broke apart. He handed the flower carefully to her. "The leaves and stem will dry and fall away in the sun. Don't worry about trying to harvest the flower until its ready. The most potent material is in the stamen anyways."
She took the flower lightly, afraid she was somehow going to shake the petals off or light the damn thing on fire. It occurred to her as she held it that she had prepared absolutely no way of storing it. Instead she stood there wide-eyed looking at the flower then at Solas. Much to her dismay, she felt the creep of warm red starting at the pointed tips of her ears and spreading rapidly to her cheeks. Solas, seeming to realize what he had done, at least had the decency to look embarrassed.
"I'll, uhm," Cha'cer stuttered. She gestured to the bank side awkwardly with the flower. "I'll put this with your, uh, pile over there. Perhaps we should switch for a while. I wasn't having much luck with these suckers anyway."
He nodded readily and waded past her to take her place on the mud bank.
She stepped carefully around him thankful for the excuse hide her face at least for the moment. She focused hard on the flower in her hands and felt her way through the cloudy water with extra care not to slip. He offered a hand to steady her and she pretended not to see it. Holding his hand was not at all going to help the flush creeping up the back of her neck vanish by the time she reached the shoreline. Likewise, Solas had the courtesy to pretend the gesture had not been extended.
She did not bother to dry off the mud and water soaking her legs, opting instead to let the sparse sunlight take care of it. Bending down to examine Solas' intricate spread of every possible use of elfroot, she opted to place the flower lopsidedly at the edge. It very clearly did not fit in with the pattern but she could not bring herself to fix it. Instead she turned to the wild brush coated in thorns next to it and the small undergrowth of elfroot. Her eyes darted back to the heavy jacket and gauntlets she had placed with her boots.
"I take it from your technique that gathering herbs was a duty you did not carry in your clan?" He asked.
"Well, bringing home the meat home usually got me out of finding the seasoning."
He frowned. She couldn't see it, but she could hear it. "I was under the impression that herbs are not a minor part of life for the Dalish. Am I wrong?"
She had decided to venture without the gauntlets and it was already proving to be a mistake. A thorn from the underbrush pricked at the green glow in her hand and shriveled. Cha'cer yanked her hand back quickly blinking a couple times. The thorn branch she had seen wither appeared as if nothing had happened. She chewed her lip and sat back on her haunches shooting him an irritated look.
"Listen," she said, "if you're wanting the in depth details of Dalish life and culture, you're talking to the wrong elf."
Solas' eyebrows shot up, but he was quieted. Wading into a deeper bit of the marsh had drenched the tip of his rough looking tunic. He tucked another of the flowers into his belt before hastily shrugging the garment over his shoulders and tossing it to the bank with a soft thud. When Cha'cer looked up again, she was greeted by a completely shirtless elven apostate rummaging through a marsh of dark red flowers looking for all the world like one of those books Cassandra was always recommending. She felt her eyes widen and her mouth went dry. Sensing her gaze, he glanced back at her and she hurriedly pretended to be absolutely fascinated by the elfroot plants in front of her—and was suddenly quite grateful for the sobering pricks of the thorns surrounding it.
"Were you only an apprentice then?" he asked, attempting again to break the silence. "I had thought only the younger elves were apprenticed."
"No." She snapped, a bit harsher than she intended. Her eyes remained fixed on the plant in front of her as she abandoned all attempts at dexterity instead just trying to pinch off leaves as quickly as possible and with the least amount of damage.
"I do not mean to pry, Lavellan—"
"Cha'cer."
"—yes, sorry. Cha'cer. I only meant to make conversation. Forgive the intrusion."
Cha'cer groaned loudly and rocked back on her heels until she hit the ground in a sprawl. The grass was soft and cool beneath her back and the trees went on about their business oblivious to the tension they sheltered below. It wasn't Solas' fault. She knew that. The topic was a sore one even without the prodding and she'd been prodded enough the past month to last her a lifetime. The sinking feeling in her gut and the menacing green on her hand told her that this was something that wasn't going to go away.
"Solas. It means 'pride', right?" She said, summoning the courage to look at him again. She did make a very determined effort to look only at his face. He met her gaze evenly with a nod. She gestured vaguely towards him. "It's traditional to name a Dalish child something… meaningful. Something from our history or heritage or… whatever. Pride is a weird one, but you're not Dalish so it's probably self-given, right?"
His eyes widened and he began to protest but she waved her hands open palmed to dismiss the need. She continued, "That's your business. What do you notice about my name?"
He stared at her blankly, trying to put her words together. He looked slightly suspicious, like he wasn't sure whether or not this was an attack. She offered a half-hearted grin as a means to placate him but it was a tired one. His features relaxed a little, though the wariness never quite left his eyes.
"Cha'cer is not a traditional name. Nor does it hold any meaning in Elvish." He spoke slowly as if treading through a minefield. She nodded encouragement and made a rolling gesture with her hands to tell him to keep going.
"It's a name you could have made up but aside from recent events, you would have had no need. And there are more convincing Dalish names to cover with anyway." His eyes narrowed, the realization finally dawning on him. "It's not a Dalish name because you are not Dalish."
She scrunched up her nose and pursed her lips looking to the side. "Close," she said. "I am Dalish. Clan Lavellan's third best hunter and, as my Keeper loves reminding me, number one trouble seeker. But you are right. It is not a Dalish name."
"Then—"
"I was born in Kirkwall." She interrupted. "And to be accurate, I've only been Dalish for the last ten years. My mother and I were refugees."
Solas could not have looked more frozen to the spot if Vivienne had done the honours herself. His eyebrows had shot up so far they looked like they may try to make a break for it and his mouth hung open just enough that it looked like it took serious effort to begin trying to form words again. The sad look was one she was starting to become very familiar with and it earned him a single berry thrown at his forehead.
"Stop that." She said quickly, arming herself with another berry. He looked indignant.
"I wasn't doing any—"
"You were making the face. The aw-poor-city-elf face. I'm just as Dalish as I need to be. Even without the rituals or the prancing." She placed the berry back on the pile. "And should I desire to bring flowers with my songs or dance naked in the moonlight, I'll give you a heads up."
He laughed, tucking another blood lotus into his belt. By then he had accumulated a large bouquet of the damn things. Cha'cer looked down at her pitiful stack of leaves (most torn) and the pricks spotting across the backs of her hands from the thorns.
"Forgive me, Cha'cer, I misjudged you," he said.
He was wading slowly back towards the waters edge with his bounty. Deft hands pulled the bushel of delicate stems and flowers from his belt. He arranged them in a manner easier to grip without much trouble keeping his balance on the slippery mud. Up until the mossy rocks at the side of the pond that is. Cha'cer saw it coming before he moved to place a foot on the slick rocks and jumped up to grab his hand before he lost balance and the afternoon's work to a miscalculated step. His eyes locked on hers as he steadied himself, drawing up to his full height as he stepped onto the grass. Cha'cer was suddenly reminded of his distinct lacking of a shirt. The red she had thought she'd banished from her cheeks came flooding back at the realization that there was nothing between her and his chest but the bouquet of blood lotuses. Her fingers fumbled around the stems awkwardly brushing against his own. She was hoping beyond hope that perhaps he hadn't noticed her burning ears. He didn't let go of the flowers.
"Though if you should decide you want to dance in the moonlight," he said. She looked up. The small smile creeping across his face told her that she was caught. She swallowed. He continued, "I'd be happy to be your dance partner."
Cha'cer barked out a laugh, snatching the flowers and quickly dumping them unceremoniously on the plant pile. She made a beeline for her jacket and boots, trying hard to surpress the very un-hunter like giggle threatening to bubble up from the back of her throat. She haphazardly brushed the strands of hair that had fallen loose back into the ponytail and shrugged on her jacket. She shoved her feet (though they were still damp) back into her boots and slung the dagggers into the sheaths on her back.
Pretending for all her might that her face was not still bright red, she gestured for Solas to follow her back to the campsite. The taller elf had (thankfully) put his tunic back on, but the smug smile was unmistakable. Cha'cer's heart skipped a beat. Well, shit. She thought. That's going to complicate things.