Honestly? Varric isn't a hundred percent convinced this isn't some strange new trick from Corypheus or one of his followers.
He's never dreamed before, but, well. He'd also never done shit like getting mixed up with mages and templars and qunari and darkspawn and dragons and walking in the Fade itself before he started hanging around with Hawke or the Inquisitor, so it wouldn't surprise him if this was just one more thing to add on the pile.
It's easier to blame things on his tendency to make friends with people who have the makings of myths and legends than it is to fully confront the fact that he's reasonably certain that there's so many things back home that are at least partially his fault, so yeah, he's going with that.
Still, it's not like Varric doesn't have experience making a list like this. Between planning an expedition to the Deep Roads, running all over Kirkwall with Hawke, traipsing all over Andraste blasted Thedas with the Inquisitor, and a not insignificant amount of research that was purely for a section of one of his books that he didn't actually end up using - this is something far more familiar than chasing foxes and mysterious new realms.
Which means he's got papers spread all around him, filled with notes, as he works on finalizing the list on his Relic and cheerfully ignores any kind of self reflection that would serve as a reminder that chasing foxes and going to mysterious new realms actually does sound like his life as of late.
B: Scavengers Survive - Now What?
All right.
List in hand - or, well, multiple lists, and not so much in hand as saved in the weird tool he'd been given on arrival here, which he is steadfastly refusing to check as often as he's tempted to in order to make sure that what he'd compiled is still there - Varric has set out to go hunting.
It feels strange, being alone. It feels like he should be turning to someone else in the party to share a joke, or make some kind of commentary on the wilderness, and he'd curse himself for being such a soft hearted sap if he was willing to actually admit that to more than one or two people.
He's standing below a tree, now, staring up at a cube floating in its branches - way too high up even if he wasn't a dwarf - with a distinctly unimpressed look.
"....you've got to be shitting me."
Wildcard
[ Or throw anything else my way! Happy to roll with get along shirt prompts or just about anything. ]
Varric Tethras | Dragon Age | Familiar
Honestly? Varric isn't a hundred percent convinced this isn't some strange new trick from Corypheus or one of his followers.
He's never dreamed before, but, well. He'd also never done shit like getting mixed up with mages and templars and qunari and darkspawn and dragons and walking in the Fade itself before he started hanging around with Hawke or the Inquisitor, so it wouldn't surprise him if this was just one more thing to add on the pile.
It's easier to blame things on his tendency to make friends with people who have the makings of myths and legends than it is to fully confront the fact that he's reasonably certain that there's so many things back home that are at least partially his fault, so yeah, he's going with that.
Still, it's not like Varric doesn't have experience making a list like this. Between planning an expedition to the Deep Roads, running all over Kirkwall with Hawke, traipsing all over Andraste blasted Thedas with the Inquisitor, and a not insignificant amount of research that was purely for a section of one of his books that he didn't actually end up using - this is something far more familiar than chasing foxes and mysterious new realms.
Which means he's got papers spread all around him, filled with notes, as he works on finalizing the list on his Relic and cheerfully ignores any kind of self reflection that would serve as a reminder that chasing foxes and going to mysterious new realms actually does sound like his life as of late.
B: Scavengers Survive - Now What?
All right.
List in hand - or, well, multiple lists, and not so much in hand as saved in the weird tool he'd been given on arrival here, which he is steadfastly refusing to check as often as he's tempted to in order to make sure that what he'd compiled is still there - Varric has set out to go hunting.
It feels strange, being alone. It feels like he should be turning to someone else in the party to share a joke, or make some kind of commentary on the wilderness, and he'd curse himself for being such a soft hearted sap if he was willing to actually admit that to more than one or two people.
He's standing below a tree, now, staring up at a cube floating in its branches - way too high up even if he wasn't a dwarf - with a distinctly unimpressed look.
"....you've got to be shitting me."
Wildcard
[ Or throw anything else my way! Happy to roll with get along shirt prompts or just about anything. ]