Helen Magnus (britishcharm) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-09-05 23:04:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, helen magnus, varric tethras |
"I rather like you in this dress. It suits you."
Who: Helen and Varric
What: Celebrating Helen’s Birthday
When: August 27
Where: New York
Status: Complete!
Rating: PG-13. Some cuddling, some kissing, nothing especially significant.
Helen's birthday spectacular evening was almost over, but not without one more surprise. Varric hailed a taxi to take them back to their hotel room. He was in no hurry, and traffic made the trip longer than it should have been. He was relaxed, happy, and generally in a fantastic mood.
He held Helen's hand as they drove.
Meeting his sister had been something of a shock, but after seeing the two of them together, she couldn’t help but love him a little more. And she was touched he had thought their relationship important enough for the two women to meet.
Shifting to lean more comfortably against him, she rested her free hand against his cheek. “I’ve had a wonderful evening.”
His sister was really the only family he had left, with his brother locked up and their parents long dead. Aside from Hawke, of course. In a way, meeting Hawke would be like meeting the rest of the family, and since it had gone so well with his sister, he was a lot more comfortable.
"I'm glad. It was a lot of fun." And fuel for a dozen tall tales.
“Why didn’t you tell me about her?”
Varric tilted his head, thinking about that for a moment, "There's a lot of uncomfortable memories about my family, mostly to do with my brother. I wanted you to meet her first before I delved into all that history."
She nodded, lifting his hand and kissing his knuckles. “I’m glad you shared her with me.”
"You're the first I have," He replied, seriously.
Not knowing quite how to respond to that, she tightened her fingers around his, gently tugging his hand close to her chest as she shifted to kiss him.
“Thank you.”
He tickled at her chest lightly with his fingers, and then pressed his forehead against hers, "I've got one more surprise for you."
She smiled, trying very hard to suppress a giggle. He had a tendency to make her feel far younger than her age.
“You’re quite full of surprises, this evening. Do I at least get a hint?”
Varric shook his head, "Nope. You'll have to wait until we get back to our hotel room."
“I’ll look forward to it.”
The taxi pulled up to the hotel, and Varric got out. He held the door for Helen, holding out his hand to help her out.
She took his hand with a smile, already anxious to know what he had in store for her.
Once in their room, there was a package waiting on the bed. It was wrapped elegantly, and about twelve by twelve inches. Perfectly disguised to prevent guessing what it might be. He walked into the bathroom to refresh himself.
She watched him move into the bathroom before crossing to the bed, picking up the package and running a hand along the side as she sat.
Varric came out a few moments later, letting his long hair out of it's ponytail. He sat on the bed next to her and nodded towards the package, "Go ahead and open it."
She unwrapped the package carefully, slowly peeling back the paper, even as she leaned into his side.
Inside was a much smaller package, just as long, but much thinner, and inside that was a gold necklace, subtly inlaid with diamonds.
Speechless might have been a good description for her reaction. There was a pause before she gently ran her thumb over the chain, biting her lip against a smile.
“It’s beautiful.”
"And that's why it suits you," Varric replied, a smile dancing over his own lips. "As soon as I saw it I knew it had to be for you."
Smiling, she leaned in to kiss him. “Such flattery.”
“Not flattery. Truth.”
“I almost believe you.”
“Only almost? Well I’ll have to take it back then,” Varric said slyly.
“I’m working on it.”
“Fair enough.” Varric laughed, then picked up the necklace. “Lets put it on you.”
Nodding, she turned her back toward him, gathering her hair up out of the way. It had been a long time since someone had done this for her.
Varric slipped it around her neck and fastened it, then stood and backed up so he could give her a critical eye. He nodded his head, "Perfect. Did you know that necklace has a long and sordid history? It was on a maiden sailing through the caribbean centuries ago, and then lost when the ship ran aground during a storm. It was found some years later by a pirate, who gave it to a woman he'd fallen for. She eventually caused him to lose everything, and the necklace next fell into the hands of an escaped slave from Trinidad."
None of which was true, but it sounded awesome.
She suspected as much, but she didn’t mind. His stories were something else that only made her love him more.
“Oh? And how did you happen upon it?”
"Well, through happenstance it eventually came to rest in an antique shop, ran by a little old lady with silver hair. She was a fiery bargainer, and drove a hard deal. She knew it's providence and knew I wanted it, but I eventually emerged triumphant."
“You can be very persuasive.”
"I had to trade a few things," He replied, eye sparkling. "A rare book, an old antique candle holder. She was wiley, she was."
“Then I must be a very lucky girl.”
"A very deserving one." He took her hand, pulling her to her feet and kissed her.
She slid her arms around him, content for the moment just to keep him close. After a while, though, she pulled back, reaching for his hand. “I’ve something I’d like to show you.”
"Should I be worried?" He took her hand.
“I should hope not.”
She led him back to the bed, releasing his hand long enough to retrieve her sketchbook and an assortment of pencils and gesturing for him to sit so she could curl up against him.
Varric took a seat, letting her curl up against him. He put an arm around her, and looked down at her face. He'd never expected to find a woman like this, let alone fall for her. Yet he had. Life was funny that way.
She flashed him a small smile before turning her attention back to the blank page in front of her, carefully selecting a pencil. It took her only a moment to decide what she wanted to draw, and she closed her eyes, taking a calming breath.
Once she had started, the hesitation vanished, her world narrowing to the feel of the pencil against the paper. Light, quick strokes blending together, slowly forming an outline. She didn’t explain, didn’t think it necessary. It was a part of her life she shared so rarely, and it was a struggle each time she did. She trusted him to understand that.
Varric's keen eyes watched her draw, a growing respect and admiration for her skill as she did so. There was something about the creative process - creating the lines that would become outlines and outlines that would become form, or putting down the words that would become a story. There was something about it that made it more compelling than the final product.
The act of creation. For a man who never expected - or wanted - children, it was the closest feeling to that.
Eventually, it became apparent she was drawing a pair of hands, specifically his hands, not unlike when he was telling her one of his stories, his gestures becoming as much a part of the story as his words. Such a simple subject, engaged in a simple act, but taking on so much meaning.
The smile rose to Varric's face, slow and steady, like he couldn't control the expression and had no intention of doing so. She knew how to draw hands, and she brought such life to them that he half expected the picture to start moving. He wondered what story the hands were telling. Who was it about, what grand adventure were they describing.
It wasn’t difficult to draw something you loved. She had always felt hands were the most beautiful part of a body. They told a story all of their own, a lifetime of memories etched into the lines and creases.
She might not have his ability for weaving a tale, but she had a unique way of capturing life on the page. Perhaps because she had spent so many years observing it from afar.
It was still a story, still a tale that had been woven, something created from nothing. And that alone spoke to his very soul. He said nothing, simply let her create.
While she worked, she had no concept of time passing, no concern for the world beyond the scope of her focus. She cared only about the image forming on the page and the warm weight of the man beside her. And when she was finally finished, it took several moments for her to return to reality.
Setting the finished drawing on his lap, she slid down so she could lay her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him.
He picked it up with his free hand, studying it, "I wish I knew what story was being told. A deeply personal one, I think. With dragons."
Though he'd included a bit of a joke, his tone was sincere and his voice quiet.
She nodded without lifting her head, pressing the slightest bit closer.
Varric rubbed her back in slow, easy circles, “It’s wonderful.”
She nodded again and then shifted to kiss his shoulder, slowly working her way up to his neck before pulling away with another soft smile. “I should change.”
"Should you?" Varric nuzzled back at her a bit, then nodded his head, "I rather like you in this dress. It suits you." He thought she ought to wear things like this much more often.
For him, she might consider it. She leaned in for another chaste kiss. “A woman my age shouldn’t wear something so frivolous.”
Varric's eyes gleamed, "Ah, but you are younger than your years, you should wear something that reflects your inner heart, and emphasizes your outer beauty."
"I'll keep that in mind."
She couldn't resist stealing another quick kiss before sliding off the bed and collecting her clothes.
Her choice sleeping attire matched her age no better than the dress had, and a few minutes later, she had changed into a button down shirt that had once belonged to John and a pair of shorts. The shirt fit comfortably, if it was long enough to nearly cover her shorts and force her to roll up the sleeves.
Varric smiled. He had no problem with her wearing that - it was incredibly attractive, and managed to make him wonder how long it would take to unbutton.
Moving back to the bed, she settled against him again, kissing his neck.
She appreciated that he didn't ask her to change, that she could still wear her ex-husband's shirt to bed without him feeling threatened by it. She appreciated that he accepted her as she was.
Varric pulled her closer, shifting back up onto the bed and wrapping his arms around her. She was Helen. That was all that mattered.