Who: Merrill and Varric What: Drinking and Stories When: Saturday night Where: The Green Maid Rating: PG-13 for Varric's tales of smut. :D Status: Complete!
Varric thought that the Green Maid would be a good place to share a drink with Merrill. He was familiar with the clientele and the owner, as well as the quality of the drink. He’d also grown fond of the renovations. From the Irish lass painted outside to the countryside that took up the entire east wall, it had charm. It wasn’t the Hanged Man, but it will do.
He got a booth, and had ordered some sandwiches and fries for them while waiting for Merrill to arrive. His mind was occupied on several levels, which he found interesting. He didn’t usually dwell on women who weren’t Bianca but Helen had a way of weaseling herself into his thoughts at the oddest moments.
Merrill actually managed to find the pub without much difficulty. The painting of the Maid wearing Green helped her find it. She didn’t often frequent bars, though she’d dreamed about talking to Varric in one before. She was excited to see him in person. Merrill’s dreams didn’t bother her the way others seemed to.
She looked around for her friend when she walked in.
They didn't bother Varric that much, either. Mostly they excited him. The adventure, the danger, the comradarie....Even the Deep Roads hadn't put him out that much, despite the heartache about his brother. Varric had envisioned so many wonderful worlds in his novels and stories that living in one seemed...natural.
He could spot Daisy anywhere, and raised a hand to wave her over, "You found the place! Excellent, Daisy!"
Merrill brightened, waving back to Varric as she walked over to him. “Hello!” She sat down across from him, smiling. “This is nice!” Well, she liked the paintings, anyway. It wasn’t really the place she was looking forward to, anyway.
“What’s good?” she asked. She really didn’t drink very often anymore.
"Yeah it is. Irish did a good job with this place after I gave it to her." He gave Merrill a wink, "You're looking positively adorable excitable." Varric gestured for her to have a seat, "Depends on how strong you want to get. We should probably start with a nice Scottish beer, straight from across the pond. There's an Irish lager, and whiskey of course, too."
It was a product of the bar owner being Irish and having dated a Scotsman. He wondered if Gaila was in, actually, but he didn't see her. He'd been trying to avoid taking sides, anyway.
A tiny little french woman brought out the sandwiches and fries and set them down, and he smiled broadly, "Joe! You didn't need to bring it out yourself."
"I couldn't resist, not for you and your friend," The woman replied in a clipped accent. "Zis ees all fresh, enjoy!"
Merrill smiled. “Well, I’m looking forward to your stories!” She’d been excited for the past week, and was happy they were finally able to meet. Talking on valarnet was fun, and she’d enjoyed the story about Hawke and Fenris, but this was going to be better!
“Ooh, you got food?” Merrill smiled from him to the woman. “This looks wonderful.” She took a fry to nibble on, thinking about drinks. “Whiskey, I think.” She’d been quite the partier, back in the day.
Joe nodded at them, and then headed back to the kitchen to get back to cooking! Varric waved at her back, then settled back down.
He grinned at her, "I have quite a few stories, not all of them having to do with Hawke and our adventures. Enjoy. I hope that can fit into your mouth, Daisy."
He felt a warmth in the bar, the warmth of an old friend and someone he'd always viewed like a little sister who desperately needed guidance, "Whiskey it is. Best whiskey in town!" He ordered one for each of them, and wondered how well Merrill could hold her liquor in this world, before tossing a fry into his mouth. It was crunchy, just the way he liked it.
Not as well as she used to be able to. Hopefully none of her kids’ parents were here. Though, it was summer. She’d be getting new kids in the fall. It was as good a time as any to relax. “Which ones do I get tonight?” she asked. Any story would be good, but one in particular was on her mind. She wasn’t quite ready to ask, though. Maybe after a whiskey or two.
Merrill took a bite of her sandwich, giving an ‘Mm!’ of approval. She could tell why he liked this place.
It was possible. The bar attracted a wide variety of people, at least on nights when there weren't midget related brawls. He figured Merrill could hold her own if something like that happened tonight. She'd probably even enjoy it!
Hopefully it was a story he remembered. Smiling at her, he took a bite of his own, and swallowed before speaking, "Joe has been here for years. She was one of the good things that came with this place when I bought it, and she stayed on with Irish took over."
“Oh, you owned it?” she hadn’t realized. He certainly seemed comfortable enough here, and he seemed to know everyone. It made sense. She nibbled at her sandwich, looking around at the bar and the various locals. When the whiskey came, Merrill took a sip. That would be strong enough.
“So what have you been up to, here?” As opposed to back in Kirkwall. She’d caught herself thinking of Thedas as ‘back home’, though she hadn’t even had that many dreams. Something about it just seemed right.
"That's right. It was a dive called Mad Dogs and Englishmen then. I had a bit of a personal crisis and took off for a time, so I ceded ownership to Irish. She redid the place pretty splendidly, I think."
Varric smiled, sipping his own whiskey for a moment, "I'm a writer, naturally. I made a fortune back in the 90s and got out of the stock market before the bubble burst. So now I write. And fund things for friends." He winked, "It's a good life. Missing a few things. I'm not sure if I'd go back..." He hadn't counted on Helen.
“Things like GPS?” She smiled. He’d given her that little gift before she’d even realized who he was. She’d been grateful, but confused. Now things made a bit more sense. And it was nice to have him looking out for her.
“It’s nice that you still like to come here.” A lot of people wouldn’t, she imagined, after they’d given it up. Varric wasn’t the sort to let himself get caught up in things like that, though. Of course he’d made friends with the new owner, and even given her a nickname. Besides, it was a nice place. “We should make a regular thing of it. With Hawke and everybody.”
"That. And things like space ships and rocket cars." He laughed, "Have you dreamed about balls of twine yet, Daisy?"
Varric settled back in his seat and nodded his head, before winking at her, "I'd like that. You'd probably like Hawke's comedy club too, but for a good drink, I think I prefer this place."
He added, wanting to see her reaction, "Would you believe the owner used to be the waitress?"
“Spaceships?” she blinked. That was a little hard to believe! She shook her head when he asked about twine. “Mostly I dream about studying,” she said. “And then sometimes you tell me stories.” She’d heard quite a few, most of them as outlandish as spaceships and rocket cars.
“Comedy club? That sounds fun.” She smiled. “But I imagine it would be easier to talk here. Do you think she can get away for a visit, sometime?” It was hard to imagine the whole crew together without her.
Merrill thought about that for a moment. “Actually, I would believe that. You have a softspot.” He’d probably given her a great deal on the place, trying to give her a leg up.
"Spaceships, yes. There's a prize to build one, I have some friends working on it. I think they ultimately want to go to Mars, but the Moon is the target right now." Varric listened to her. He remembered bits and pieces, though not everything. The stories mostly. He loved telling stories and he could remember Isabela and Merrill listening intently - the former teasing the latter mercilessly.
Varric smiled and nodded his head. He had definitely helped Gaila out as much as he could. Even behind the scenes a little bit, "I knew she could handle it."
"Oh!" That rang a bell. "You're involved with Weapon X? No." That was from a comic. "X Project? X Prize?" Something like that. She knew a little about it from one of the fifth grade teachers who was doing a unit on it. Her class was too young for that. Or were they?
"Do you think they could come talk to my kids? I think they would love that."
Varric grinned at her, “X-prize, yes. Nothing to do with any comic books, though that might also be kind of fun to work with too.”
He tilted his head as he thought about that, “Well I could talk to the leader or the one working on the actual building and see if they’d be interested. They might be.”
Jim would be, at any rate. He liked talking and he had a way of getting anyone excited over anything. Jim Kirk could get a blind man excited about going to the movies, Varric was pretty sure.
Merrill grinned. "I'm sure they'll be a good deal further along by the fall. It would be exciting, if they could!" Who knew, maybe they would be on the moon by then!
She finished her drink, and was enjoying herself. "Tell me about your books! I should have looked for them already." It made sense for him to be a writer, she should have guessed already and started ordering them from Amazon.
“Some of them might make you blush, most of them will make you laugh.” Varric gave Merrill an easy grin and pulled out a card. He slid it across the table, “There’s a title list, as I figured you’d ask. I’m most well known for the Steampunk series and the pirate series, but my latest book is a sci-fi survival novel.” He paused, then added, “There are about a hundred sleezy romance novels under a psuedonym, too.”
He didn’t seem ashamed of it, “If you like I can get you a signed copy of The Deep. Unless you’re interested in Captain Sally’s pirate sexcapades. Which ought to remind you of someone, though the resemblence wasn’t intentional and is only on the surface.”
Merrill giggled, taking the card. That all made perfect sense. Varric would probably get bored without his smut. "Well, it looks like I have my summer reading list." She wouldn't say which, though.
"Are you having another?" she asked, indicating the drink. She was feeling a little warm already, but another sounded good.
Varric signaled for two more drinks. Merrill was a funny drunk and he felt the need for a buzz himself. And sometimes he liked to encourage his friends to get rowdy. Because it was fun, “There you go, Daisy. Try not to drink it all at once. We wouldn’t want to end up in Las Vegas without our pants. Or worse.”
Merrill giggled. "Worse?" It would take more than two drinks for her to lose her pants, probably. She took a longish sip.
"So tell me about your adventures. I know you don't only sit at home and write all day."
“Occasionally I go to cons. I hang out with a man who built rocket cars. They usually exploded. That’s why we had the problems with the midget gangs, his co-worker was in one of the exploding cars.” Varric sipped casually, like this was a perfectly normal story, “So one night he shows up with a whole gang of little people. It turns into a full on bar fight, and then they kidnap Irish. So now we have a high speed chase with an old redneck pickup chasing a van.”
Merrill couldn't help but burst into laughter during the story. That took an unexpected turn. Like any of his stories, she wasn't sure how much of it had been embellished, but she enjoyed it none the less.
"Then what?" she asked eagerly. "Did you leap from the back of the truck to the van to rescue her?"
The scariest part of this one was he wasn’t embellishing a thing! Sometimes a story was just crazy enough to be true, “So we were chasing this van. Man on a harley comes by and helps us. Then the van tips over on a turn. Irish comes out swinging, kicking arse and taking names, while what looked like an endless supply of midgets poured out. I actually started to get a little worried.”
Merrill was hanging on every word. She grinned, picturing the scene. “This ‘Irish’ sounds like someone I would like,” she said with a laugh before finishing off her second drink. Getting kidnapped and then making them regret it--Sounded a bit like Hawke, to Merrill!
"She has the temper to match her hair color," Varric assured her, raising his glass in toast. "Real genius with computer programs. Looks like gibberish or magic to me, but she relates to it."
He paused, then downed his drink, "Used to make a damned good hero sandwich too. But we've got Joe, so that's okay."
Varric really should check up on Gaila. He was worried about her.
“She sounds fun.” Merrill grinned. “Varric?” she looked up at him, her face flushed from the whiskey. “Will you tell me my story? The one about the sea monster?” Maybe not all of the color was from the alcohol.
“I know you weren’t there, but I like your version,” she said, giggling a little. She looked over at him sheepishly, feeling a little silly. But if anyone would indulge silly, it was Varric.
"The sea monster?" Varric sat back, steepling his fingers together as he started to weave the beginnings of a story in his mind. By the time he started speaking he had the middle going on in his head while the story began, "An elf went swimming one evening, as the moon was rising. The water was calm, and quiet, the moon perfectly reflected in the ripples of the waves. She wore nothing but what the maker had gifted her with, as she was alone. Or so she thought."
Merrill giggled, blushing brightly when he mentioned she was naked. “Oh my goodness!” Well, she had said she liked his version. And it wouldn’t be very sporting to ruin the story by adding facts. She covered her mouth, trying to keep from giggling. “Then what?” she asked, on the edge of her seat.
"Well, while she was swimming through the black waters, something rippled and moved beneath her. A thousand teeth and a thousand eyes, and a thousand writhing tentacles, it followed her. Something licked at her foot, and then wrapped around it." Varric leaned forward, his voice growing more urgent, "Her cry was lost in the crashing of the water as she was dragged down into the depths!"
“Oh, ouch!” She remembered feel of the sting on her foot. Her eyes were wide as she listened to the story anxiously. What if the mysterious stranger didn’t come?
Then Merrill would be doomed! DOOOOOOOMED! Varric took a moment to wet his throat, his eyes gleaming with mischief, "It held her fast, pulling her down towards a dismal fate. Would no one hear her cry? Or see the ripples in the water that signified her struggle?"
He let the silence stretch on, so the question can hang about in the air, and dangle there, "One man did. A great man, with rippling muscles and long, flowing hair."
It really shouldn’t have Merrill as worried as it did; She knew the outcome, after all! She was sitting right there. But she was engrossed in the story now, and the alcohol likely helped. “Ooh!” she said when the Mysterious Stranger appeared on the scene. “And curls!” she added, forgetting that she’d told herself not to correct him. “Don’t forget the curls, they were lovely,” she said, her voice dreamy.
"Long, flowing curly hair," Varric corrected. "It glistened in the moon light as he pulled his shirt off and dove into the water. His arms beat against the current and in the murky darkness he could see the woman struggling against her phallic assailant. With a mighty heave he ripped a tentacle straight from it's body and beat at it with it!"
“Phal--!” She laughed, bright red by now. He hadn’t really taken off his shirt, but she wasn’t naked, either. Not that she minded the liberties Varric was taking. She gasped when Frodo ripped off a tentacle. “My goodness!”
"He beat the thing bloody, and gripped Merrill in his strong, firm arms. Kicking hard, he made for the surface, and then pulled her to the shore. But alas, our fair maiden was not breathing!"
Grinning, Varric took a drink, adding, "Last time I told a story like this it was lesbians."
“Oh no!” Her eyes were bright, though, guessing what was coming next. She laughed at his comparison. “He wasn’t that mysterious! I’m pretty sure he was a boy.” It seemed that another drink had appeared in front of Merrill at some point, and she started on it. “Keep going!”
Varric laughed, "Well, his eyes trailed ravagingly over her body, her skin like blue silk in the moonlight. As his eyes fell upon her breasts he saw they did not rise or fall. Gently, he tipped her head back and listened for air. There was nothing."
His voice had taken on a seductive, lyrical quality, "He breathed life into her. And he massaged her heart into beating. With her lungs burning for air, she peered into his eyes, lost in their depths. When his lips met hers again, she returned the kiss earnestly and arched into his touch."
Merrill nearly choked on her drink. She probably should’ve known better than to ask for him to keep going. On the one hand, she really was rather embarrassed to hear Varric go into such detail, but on the other.. She wanted to hear more. And maybe she was embarrassed that she wanted to hear more.
“Stop, wait, or don’t, oh!” This was the ladies equivalent of locker room talk, wasn’t it? She was bright red. “But what if he’s married?” Well, he probably wasn’t in the story. And it was a silly time to be worrying about that.
"Her hero's hands roamed across her body, bringing fire with every stroke," Varric continued, his eyes gleaming. "His need for her so great that he wanted to wed himself to her, in the surf and beneath the stars in the sky. They joined as one, the water crashing around them and masking their cries of passion. His eyes never left those soulful mirrors of her soul."
Oh, that was clever. She placed a hand on her hot cheek, sure her heart was beating too fast. “Oh, Varric!” She didn’t remember his stories being quite like that. Maybe there was some sort of filter on her dreams. “I feel like I need a cold shower,” she said, laughing breathily.
Varric grinned at her, like mission was accomplished, "Well I do have to make up for Isabela's absence, Daisy. Enjoy it?"
Merrill blushed. She had enjoyed it, but it seemed wrong to admit it. “Well, I’m glad I came.” Her eyes widened. “To the pub, I mean.” She laughed. Too much whiskey. Yes, she was definitely going to have to look up the stories under his nom de plume.
Varric's eyes gleamed again, and he ordered them some more drinks, "Let me tell you about a pirate captain named Sally..."