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Library, Sunday

During his re-shelving this morning Face had found the most amazingly trashy book. There were a bunch of place names and terms he didn't quite recognise, but that was hardly unusual, and he could always ask Cassandra for help where armour and weapons were concerned, which would be an adventure in and of itself, but the but the prose was the kind of ridiculous, fast paced kind that was so very readable.

Not to mention there were pictures, which were worth a thousand words, really.

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Just be glad he hadn't started a dramatic reading. Yet.

"I don't recognise the dating system, but it seems to have been printed fairly recently wherever it came from," Face said.

She would find that either hot or terrible. Or both.

"Then it is guesswork," Cassandra decided. "No doubt there are some wild tales made up about this figure."

"Very wild," Face confirmed. "Celibacy doesn't seem to be much of a thing in this religion."

Cassandra eyed him dubiously. "It is not about the Avvar, is it?"

She had heard stories.

"No, the..." Face sounded out the name. "...Alamarri. I guess they both begin with the same letter though."

Cassandra almost choked. Almost. "Did you say Alamarri?" she said. "...This is not about Andraste, is it?"

And now she was trying to snatch up the book.

Face let her grab it, since he wasn't about to get between Cassandra and a book she wanted. "Yeah, and some guy named Hessarian," he replied. "Or possibly Archon, but I think that's a title."

"Archon Hessarian of the Tevinter Imperium," Cassandra said, flipping quickly through the pages. "--This is filth!"

"Well written though," he said. "Very evocative."

Face, no.

"It slanders the Bride of the Maker!"

Was Cassandra going a bit red? Maybe.

For various reasons. Righteousness was easiest.

"How?" Sometimes Face didn't know when to stop talking. "Sure it's trashy, but she still seems pretty awesome."

"They are describing her--"

For a moment, Cassandra struggled to speak. "--Private areas!"

Euphemistically. Very euphemistically. But this was bad enough.

"If she's the Bride of the Maker, they probably had a wedding night." Not helping, Face.

"Look, leaving aside the fictional torrid love polygons, she's brave, willing to fight for what she believes in despite the odds, has a bit of a thing about mages." He shrugged. "She kind of reminds me of you."

He probably should have emphasised without the 'torrid love polygons' again, but the part of him dedicated to not helping kind of wanted to see how red she could get.

"I am not certain if I should strike you for blaspheming or accept the compliment, even if it is inaccurate," Cassandra muttered.

She was definitely red now, thank you, Face. Just for a whole extra reason, too.

Edited 2015-05-31 17:31 (UTC)

He tried.

"If I get a vote, I'd go for the second," Face said. "Apart from the the inaccurate part."

"We all strive to be like Andraste," Cassandra said, slamming the book shut. "But I am hardly close."

"So you're saying you're not brave, or smart, or willing to fight injustice?"

Now he was just poking at her.

"I am saying that I am mulish, and impatient, and terrible with words," Cassandra said flatly. "And hardly the Maker's Chosen."

And she would not think about that strange future where she was Most Holy, thank you.

"Doesn't matter if the Maker chooses you or not," Face countered cheerfully. "I would."

Cassandra sighed. "Must you flirt?" she asked.

Yes. Yes, he must.

"Do you want me to stop?"

Not really.

"I know you are not serious," Cassandra said. "I simply do not see the point."

"What makes you think I'm not serious?" Apart from his general personality. "...sincere, sincere works better."

"You have your friend Mara," Cassandra recounted, "... and you are you. You can't be serious."

Also she was her. Ergo he could not be serious. (At least he hadn't prompted her to punch him yet? There was that.)

"Yeah, Mara's my friend. My friend. We haven't made any promises to each other or even done anything that'd require conversations about those kind of promises." Making out when they were both hopped up on sex pollen didn't count. "And I don't see how liking her means I couldn't like you too."

The main difference between them was that Cassandra made no effort to hide the fact she could kick his ass. Face had a type.

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