Varric Tethras/Dialogue (Inquisition)

Varric Tethras' dialogue contains a list of conversations he has with his companions.

Combat comments
Kills an enemy:
 * One more for me!
 * That had to hurt!
 * Eat dirt!

Low Health:
 * Back me up!
 * Not good!

Fallen Companions:
 * (Inquisitor) Hang on, Boss!
 * (Cassandra) Seeker!
 * (Solas) On our way, Solas!

Location comments

 * (Emerald Graves) So this is the Dales. Well, Daisy, wish you were here.
 * (Emprise du Lion) If we freeze to death and get eaten by wolves, I'm blaming the Seeker.
 * (Ghilan'nain's Grove) My boots squelch when I lift my feet. Why did we spend time and effort opening a path?
 * (The Storm Coast) - I've got a friend who's a ship captain. She would love this place.
 * (The Storm Coast - Approaching the shoreline) The Waking Sea. Somewhere across all that water is Kirkwall.
 * (if in the party) Blackwall: It's been a while since I was at sea. Traveling to Haven must have been quite the journey.
 * Varric: Between Cassandra's friendly company and Cullen's feelings on sea travel - it was great.
 * (The Storm Coast - Upon spotting the high dragon) Let's try not to get eaten, shall we?

Companion comments about Varric

 * Blackwall: Have you seen the stories Varric's been writing? His descriptions of me are...colorful, to say the least.
 * Sera: Varric? Too clever. Always saying something, but never saying it straight.
 * Vivienne: What exactly is Varric's role in the Inquisition? Aside from irritating Cassandra?

Varric and Blackwall
───────
 * Blackwall: This guard captain from Kirkwall that you're friends with...
 * Varric: She's stronger than you.
 * Blackwall: Right. Just checking.


 * Blackwall: I once met a dwarf who made the best home-brewed ale.
 * Varric: I once met a Grey Warden who got possessed by a spirit and then blew up a chantry and killed a hundred people.
 * Varric: What makes people think you want to hear what others of "your kind" have done, anyway?
 * Varric: So it was just you, alone in the vast wilderness?
 * Blackwall: What are you on about?
 * Varric: The lone wanderer, searching the world. What's he trying to find? Love? Absolution?
 * Blackwall: Try "someone with a strong arm and a stronger will to fight darkspawn."
 * Varric: Yes, but what does that represent?
 * Blackwall: Wanting to kill more darkspawn.
 * Varric: You're just like Sebastian.


 * Varric: Let's talk about your dark and troubled past.
 * Blackwall: Excuse me?
 * Varric: Well you have one, of course. Someone dear to you? Someone you've failed to save? Or a grave error in judgment, causing too many deaths? I've known a couple of people like that. Ooh, maybe betrayal! That's always good.
 * Blackwall: No.
 * Varric: Well you've got to give me something.
 * Blackwall: No, I don't. This conversation is over.
 * Varric: Hm, touchy.


 * Varric: You remind me of someone. Pious bastard, wore blinding white armour. Told me my shots veered left.
 * Blackwall: I can see how that describes me perfectly.
 * Varric: It's just... all that niceness. He was just so... nice.
 * Blackwall: Nice. Right. I take it you didn't like this person.
 * Varric: Sebastian would have taken that as compliment.


 * Blackwall: Is it true that Kirkwall's Knight Commander became a... statue.
 * Varric: Absolutely true. She's still there, bringing an extra dose of horror to gallows tourists.
 * Blackwall: No one's moved it... I mean her?
 * Varric: And make it impossible for children to play "Who's Brave Enough to Poke Meredith?"
 * Blackwall: They don't actually do that, do they?
 * Varric: No. No one's brave enough to poke Meredith.


 * Blackwall: I read some of your book. Riveting stuff. "Hard in Hightown", was it?
 * Varric: And you only read some?
 * Blackwall: Well I... uh, found it in a latrine in a village near churneau. It... was missing some pages.


 * Blackwall: I've been to Kirkwall. The Hanged Man, actually, probably been twenty years now. It was a dive if I remember correctly.
 * Varric: It's the dive. Filled with the best and worst people in the world.
 * Blackwall: Yes, I heard it was a haunt of yours.
 * Varric: Haunt? It was home.


 * Varric: Alright, Hero, what do we talk about?
 * Blackwall: What do you mean?
 * Varric: You don't want talk about yourself, I can respect that. So what do we talk about, then?
 * Blackwall: I don't suppose you follow jousting?
 * Varric: I'm a Free Marcher, remember? We invented jousting.
 * Blackwall: That's not actually true, you know,
 * Varric: It is! Before us, no one ever thought to push people off things with large sticks. Historical fact.
 * Blackwall: Alright. Greatest knight in history. My money's on Lady Honorine Chastaine. No one's ever come close to unhorsing more riders than her. I've seen her joust live, and I have to tell you, up close, she has magnificent... technique.
 * Varric: Her victory in the grand tourney of Tantervale is pretty legendary, but I'd have to go with Revata. Winning three consecutive grand tourneys! Who does that?
 * Varric: Hey, you know they're holding a grand tourney in Markham soon. I think we should all go. Inquisition road trip!
 * Blackwall: There's got to be... trouble or something up near Markham.
 * Inquisitor: No.
 * Varric: I'll talk to Josephine, I bet she could pull some strings.


 * Blackwall: Winning while barely clinging to your horse may count, but it's not exactly the stuff of legends, is it?
 * Varric: That depends entirely on who's writing the legend, Hero.
 * Blackwall: You can't really think Revata is a better knight than Honorine Chastaine? Her record's flawless. Four hundred jousts, never unseated, no one's ever come close to it.
 * Varric: Oh, she's easily the most skilled. That's a fact. It's just... scrappy is better than flawless. I like heroes who try their damnedest, even if they fail a lot. It's easy to be valiant when you always win and everything goes your way. There's nothing great in that.


 * Blackwall: You are quite the artist with that bow, Varric.
 * Varric: Bianca does most of the work.
 * Blackwall: You have to aim her, precisely. I don't think I could do that.
 * Varric: Too attached to hitting things with your fists?
 * Blackwall: Exactly, and just being in the thick of it.
 * Varric: I'll stick with bows. I really like having my own teeth.
 * Varric: Have a name for the sword?
 * Blackwall: Slasher? Gasher? Pokey?
 * Varric: Go with Pokey. You seem like a Pokey. You seem like a Pokey guy.


 * Varric: How do you like being described? As "grizzled" or "masculine?"
 * Blackwall: Do I really have a choice?
 * Varric: No, I was just being polite. Going with "grizzled", then.


 * Varric: Alright, worst thing you've ever eaten? I had this imported ham for Anderfels once. It tasted like despair, literally.
 * Blackwall: But you probably got to wash it down with an expensive wine. Mine was two year old hard tack. You can't scrape of the blue any more. You just try not to look.


 * Blackwall: I've got one for you, Varric. Best tavern name you've ever seen. I'm torn between "The Bed and Bucket", and "The Bottom of the Barrel".
 * Varric: Ooh! That's a tough one. I think I have to go with "The Neighbour's House". For sheer balls.


 * Varric: So... Hero, you and Josephine...
 * Blackwall: No. No, you are not getting me into this conversation.
 * Varric: Oh, content to pine in silence, gazing at the dear ambassador from afar!
 * Blackwall: Can we talk about something else? Revasa! Revasa is the best, you were right!
 * Varric: I could help, you know. Nothing stirs the heart like a well-written word.
 * Blackwall: You're suggesting I woo the lady with someone else's words? You really want me on that path again?
 * Varric: Oh... yeah. Bad idea. Let's just forget I said anything.

Varric and Cassandra
(After Annexing Kirkwall)
 * Cassandra: I assume you heard about Prince Sebastian, Varric?
 * Varric: I know he invaded Kirkwall... Are you going to blame me for that too?
 * Cassandra: I wasn't trying to...
 * Varric: You weren't trying to remind me how bad it is in Kirkwall, so you decided to talk about it?
 * Cassandra: I thought you might be concerned. It is your home.
 * Varric: Of course I'm concerned. I don't need you prodding me with a stick to prove it.


 * Cassandra: Have you heard from any of your Kirkwall associates Varric?
 * Varric: You're asking me? So you don't read my letters?
 * Cassandra: You're no longer my prisoner. Much as you like to act like it.
 * Varric: Yet I still get all the suspicion.
 * Cassandra: I am not without sympathy. Especially given recent events.
 * Varric: Why Seeker I will never accuse you of having sympathy! By the way I tend to refer to my "associates" as friends. Maybe you're not familiar with the concept.
 * Cassandra: (sigh)


 * Varric: You know Seeker, for someone with your tact and charisma you assembled a... pretty good little Inquisition. I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt and assuming you didn't drag them all here by force.
 * Cassandra: How kind of you.
 * Varric: I mean, you never know, you could kidnap Ruffles and she'd be too polite to say anything.
 * Cassandra: Leliana recruited Josephine. They're... friends.
 * Varric: So there's a rational explanation after all. Just when I thought you had layers.


 * Varric: It makes sense that Leliana did the recruiting when the Inquisition started. Not everyone can be intimidated into signing up after all.
 * Cassandra: I recruited Commander Cullen.
 * Varric: Lucky him.
 * Cassandra: He has made no complaints about my manners.
 * Varric: His last boss was a raving lunatic who turned into a statue. That's not a high bar.


 * Cassandra: Varric I'm sorry. About earlier. With the table.
 * Varric: Beg your pardon? I didn't catch that Seeker.
 * Cassandra: I am sorry.
 * Varric: Oh! I'll mark this on my calendar—Cassandra has a feeling!
 * Cassandra: Perhaps not that sorry.


 * Cassandra: Varric, does Hawke ever autograph books?
 * Varric: Why? Doesn't your copy of the "Tale of the Champion" has a big hole in it?
 * Cassandra: Yes... but it could also have Hawke's signature on it.


 * Cassandra: Hawke's taller than I imagined.
 * Varric: ...cough. That's the first thing you said to him isn't it?
 * Cassandra: Not the first thing.
 * Varric: Tell you what Seeker. Next time you make me tell a story at knife-point I'll make the hero sound taller.

(After Guilty Pleasures)
 * Varric: Seriously? Swords and Shields? How did you find that serial? Scrape it off the bottom of a barrel in Dust town?
 * Cassandra: It was research! I thought I might learn more about the Champion.
 * Varric: I did write a book about the Champion. You might remember it. Had your knife stuck through it last I saw.
 * Cassandra: I already read that one. Twice.
 * Varric: I can't believe you picked the absolute worst of my books to read. Why not Hard in Hightown?
 * Cassandra: I have enough mysteries and investigations of my own.
 * Varric: What? You don't want to solve more in your free time?
 * Cassandra: Then, you killed my favorite character in Chapter 3, so I threw the book across the room.
 * Varric: (sigh) A critic. Say no more.


 * Cassandra: Varric, how could you let the Knight-Captain be framed for murder?
 * Varric: Well I did spent three entire chapters setting it up.
 * Cassandra: But she didn't deserve it! You'd already put her through more than enough!
 * Varric: Look seeker, if you love a character, you give them pain, ruin their lives, make them suffer. Maybe even throw in a heroic death!
 * Cassandra: That makes no sense!
 * Varric: But you care enough to argue. If she has a nice afternoon and took a nap you'd stop reading.


 * Cassandra: What made you write about Hawke? All your other books are complete fiction.
 * Varric: Someone had to set the record straight about the Champion.
 * Cassandra: Yet your book is still full of lies.
 * Varric: Ah but true ones! That's important!


 * Cassandra: Why is the second "Hard in Hightown" so completely different from the first?
 * Varric: (sigh) Because I didn't write it. Shit, did you pay actual coin for that book? One of these days, I'm gonna find the duster who wrote that garbage and introduce him to my editor.
 * Cassandra: By "editor", do you mean your crossbow?
 * Varric: No my actual editor! Best in the business. She runs after Coterie in Kirkwall, stickler for grammar. She'd want to kill the man over a semicolon. I'd never print anything without her.


 * Cole: She has to reach the other side of the hill.
 * Cassandra: Who does?
 * Cole: The Knight-Captain. But she's injured.
 * Varric: (sigh) Good job, Kid.
 * Cassandra: Is she alright? Is that how the book ends?
 * Varric: Not anymore.
 * Cassandra: Cole, what happens to her?
 * Cole: ...I don't know. The hill went away.

(If templars were recruited in Therinfal Redoubt)
 * Varric: I thought you'd have some, um.., "stronger feelings" about Templars joining the Inquisition, Seeker. Feelings that involve stabbing.
 * Cassandra: (sigh) Not all my feelings involve stabbing.
 * Varric: Oh... so you reserve those for me, then! Don't I feel special.

(If Hawke survived Here Lies the Abyss) (If Hawke romanced Anders) (If Hawke romanced Fenris) (If Hawke romanced Isabela) (If Carver survived) (If Carver is a Grey Warden) (If Carver is a templar) (If Bethany survived) (If Bethany is a Grey Warden) (If Bethany is a circle mage)
 * Cassandra: I am somewhat surprised you didn't follow Hawke to Weisshaupt, Varric.
 * Varric: There's a lot of work to do, Seeker. We'll catch up once this is all over.
 * Cassandra: What about Anders? Will he...
 * Varric: If he's still out there, and Justice hasn't driven him nuts, Hawke won't be able to keep him away.
 * Cassandra: What about Fenris? Will he...
 * Varric: Oh he'll go. Once he gets my letter and after he's finished brooding.
 * Cassandra: What about Isabela? Will she...
 * Varric: Join her/him? Once she gets my letter she'll go whether Hawke likes it or not.
 * Cassandra: And Hawke's brother. He's still alive, isn't he?
 * Varric: Aveline took him off somewhere when the Calling started going nuts, but he'll tag along—he always does.
 * Varric: Still alive, still a templar. He'll go as soon as he hears. Can't let Hawke have all the glory.
 * Cassandra: And Hawke's sister. She's still alive, isn't she?
 * Varric: Aveline took her off somewhere when the Calling started going nuts, but she'll try to keep Hawke out of trouble. Better be.
 * Varric: Sunshine will go. As soon as she hears. I'm sure of it.
 * Varric: Hawke would rather we stay away, stay safe. That won't fly forever. Besides, if I went to the Anderfels, how could I annoy you?
 * Cassandra: You would find a way.

(If Hawke died at Here Lies the Abyss)
 * Cassandra: About Hawke...
 * Varric: Don't, Seeker. Just... don't.
 * Cassandra: But what about Fenris. Does he...
 * Varric: He knows. I sent a letter. Leave it be...

(After Morrigan joins the Inquisition)
 * Varric: You may recall, Seeker, that a friend of mine had one of those Eluvians. It didn't end well. Are you really going to allow one in Skyhold?
 * Cassandra: You speak as though I could forbid it. I did not know your friend or see her Eluvian. If you have an issue speak with Lady Morrigan.
 * Varric: Um... No. I'll pass.


 * Cassandra: Varric, you are aware that I'm a candidate for the Sunburst Throne?
 * Varric: So I heard.
 * Cassandra: Not a single snide remark?
 * Varric: What?
 * Cassandra: I don't look forward to your needling. But its absence is telling.

(After the quest Well Shit)
 * Cassandra: Am I to understand your Bianca is married?
 * Varric: Oh have we reached the state where we gossip about each other's love lives? Did you hear that boss? Don't worry, I'll tell you whenever she says.
 * Cassandra: Forget I mentioned anything. It was a simple question, Varric.
 * Varric: There was nothing simple about it.


 * Varric: You brought up Bianca, Seeker. Does that mean I could ask about your "conquests"?
 * Cassandra: I would rather you didn't.
 * Varric: No tantalizing secrets to divulge?
 * Cassandra: None.
 * Varric: So no one within say, a, five foot radius has caught your eye?
 * Inquisitor: Really? No one at all?
 * Cassandra: This... is not a discussion I want to have here.
 * Varric: (laughs) Are you blushing, Seeker? Maker the world is really coming to an end.
 * Inquisitor: Perhaps Cassandra and her... "conquest" would rather not discuss this in public.
 * Varric: Spoilsport.


 * Varric: Nothing? You do know he's standing right there...
 * Cassandra: I have no "conquests".
 * Varric: How about dalliances? Liaisons? Illicit affairs?
 * Cassandra: No.
 * Inquisitor: Enough poking, Varric.
 * Varric: Is it Buttercup? Is it?


 * Cassandra: Very well, Varric. If you wish to know about men I have known, I will tell you.
 * Varric: Look, Seeker. I was only...
 * Cassandra: You are right. I pried first, and fair is fair. Years ago, I knew a young mage named Regalyan. He was dashing, unlike any men I met. He died at the Conclave.
 * Varric: ...oh.
 * Cassandra: What we had was fleeting. And years had passed. Still, it saddens me to think he's gone.
 * Varric: I'm sorry.


 * Varric: Look, Seeker, I didn't mean to make you talk about your mage friend.
 * Cassandra: I know. I was not trying to make you speak of Bianca. If I was you would know. I will yell, books will be stabbed.
 * Varric: (laughs) I'll keep that in mind.


 * Cassandra: I still don't understand how drakes take that hand.
 * Varric: ...hmm. Maybe we should start you on Shepard's Six.
 * Cassandra: Isn't that a children game?
 * Varric: Yeah.


 * Varric: So as a Seeker, you're the highest ranked person in the Inquisition. But you're not in charge.
 * Cassandra: Leliana's rank equals my own insofar as our rank means anything outside the Chantry.
 * Varric: But you want to get shit done, right?
 * Cassandra: I declared the Inquisition but I don't know that I'm best suited to command it. Perhaps you're interested in the position seems you seem so interested?
 * Varric: Oh no you don't. Leave me out of that mess.


 * Cassandra: There's almost no mention of your part in the Tale of the Champion, Varric.
 * Varric: Hm.., I don't want to bore people.
 * Cassandra: You don't want to incriminate yourself, you mean.
 * Varric: Oh... same same really.


 * Cassandra: I'm watching you, Varric, just so you know.
 * Varric: Oh.. that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. What did I do now?
 * Cassandra: Nothing. Yet. Just keep it that way.
 * Varric: Varric Tethras, paragon of good behavior, at your service, Seeker.


 * Varric: (sigh) Is even terrain too much to ask for?
 * Cassandra: Is there a trouble?
 * Varric: Oh you might be used to traipse into the countryside, punching dragons, interrogating people, or whatever you did before this. I'm from the city!
 * Cassandra: (laughs)


 * Varric: Think you'll ever go back to Nevarra, Seeker?
 * Cassandra: Why? Are you eager to see me go?
 * Varric: I wasn't, actually. But, now that you mentioned it...
 * Cassandra: How do you know I wouldn't just drag you along?
 * Varric: Be still my heart. I've grown on you.
 * Cassandra: Like fungus.


 * Varric: I spy...
 * Cassandra: No.
 * Varric: But...
 * Cassandra: No.
 * Varric: (grunts) Well you should be good at finding things. Of course, ...couldn't find Hawke.


 * Varric: Did you really think the Conclave had a chance of making peace, Seeker?
 * Cassandra: You do not?
 * Varric: What was the Divine's plan? Bring everyone together and hope really hard that they would all get along?
 * Cassandra: Most Holy did not confide her plan to me. Perhaps she thought they were tired of death and conflict.
 * Varric: Oh when is that ever been true? For Templars or mages.
 * Cassandra: I will not mock a dead woman, Varric. She did what she could, and that is more than most.


 * Cassandra: How do you write as you do, Varric? I can never find the proper words.
 * Varric: You. Write. Really?
 * Cassandra: I've needed to describe events in reports. They always come off as...
 * Varric: Dry? Boring? Lifeless? Stale?
 * Cassandra: You... are an ass.
 * Varric: Just... helping you find those words.


 *  Cassandra: I hear reconstruction is progressing well in Kirkwall.
 *  Varric: I know things are bad there.
 *  Cassandra: I wasn't trying to...
 *  Varric: You weren't trying to remind me how bad is it in Kirkwall? So you decided to talk about it?
 *  Cassandra: About its recovery!
 *  Varric: What you're talking about are the buildings, and even then that will take years. People don't recover so easily.


 *  Cassandra: I think it's time to stop playing the wounded party with me, Varric.
 *  Varric: Ignoring the times you actually wounded me?
 *  Cassandra: I did no such thing. I questioned you, and then brought you to Haven so you could tell your story to the Divine.
 *  Varric: What then? "Thanks Varric! We believe you! See you around!"
 *  Cassandra: And ignoring the fact you did lie to me.
 *  Cassandra: Do not pretend to be an innocent bystander - I could have done far worse, with full justification.
 *  Varric: Yes, thank you for not torturing me. I'm so much happier now.
 * Varric: You never did tell me why you dragged me to Haven, Seeker.
 * Varric: I mean, what could I have told the Divine that you couldn't say yourself?
 * Cassandra: I thought she needed to see the chest hair for herself.
 * Varric: Er... Say again?
 * Cassandra: I thought she needed to hear it from the horse's mouth, as it were. I also knew she would ask you to help us.
 * Varric: Help the Inquisition? Me?
 * Cassandra: A crazy thought, I know, yet here you are.


 *  Varric I spy with my little eye...
 *  Cassandra: No.
 *  Varric: Oh, come now, Seeker. I'm just trying to be friendly.
 *  Cassandra: Try to be quiet, instead.
 *  Varric When you you brought me along to talk? Perish the thought.


 *  Cassandra: Have you been taking notes on all this, Varric?
 *  Varric: You'll need to be more specific there, Seeker.
 *  Cassandra: The Inquisition! You're not planning to write a book about us, are you?
 *  Varric: Don't get your hopes up. You're not that interesting a subject.
 * Dorian: I am! Please feel free to write a book about me.
 * Varric: And call it what? "The Wayward Magister?"
 * Dorian: I'm not a magister! Oh forget it, you'll just get it wrong.

(If mages were recruited in Redcliffe)
 * Varric: You know, Seeker, I thought you'd take charge back in Redcliffe. Maybe grab Fiona and rough her up.
 * Cassandra: I do not "rough people up."
 * Varric: Sorry, my mistake. You'd have your men do it for you.
 * Cassandra: You will never let that go, will you?
 * Varric: Probably not.


 * (upon seeing the dragon and giant on the Storm Coast) 
 * Varric:: Seeker, you're the dragon expert. What do we do now?
 * Cassandra:: Don't get killed. By either of them.


 * (upon walking by the Waking Sea at the Storm Coast) 
 * Varric:: The Waking Sea. Somewhere across all that water is Kirkwall.
 * Cassandra:: It was a long journey to Haven.
 * Varric:: Considering the company, I'm surprised it didn't feel longer.

Varric and Cole

 * Varric: So you could make people not see you, Cole. Can you do that for other people?
 * Cole: Yes. It makes me tired, and doesn't work if they're loud. Or angry. Or bright.
 * Varric: Hm, what about things? Can you make people ignore an object?
 * Cole: Maybe. Like what?
 * Varric: Oh, I don't know. A book, or a box... or a crate... or a wagon full of crates?
 * Sera: Turning creepy loose on your stuff? Not a good idea, dwarfy.
 * Solas: Smuggling? That is certainly a... unique use of a spirit's innate power of persuasion.
 * Cassandra: Dwarf...
 * Varric: I'm just asking!


 * Cole: They were staring at me.
 * Varric: Who are "they," Kid?
 * Cole: In Skyhold. The servants in the courtyard. They were looking at me and whispering.
 * Varric: It's the hat. Kind of hard to miss. Don't worry about it.
 * Cole: What's wrong with my hat?
 * Varric: That's going to take a while. I'll explain "clothes" when we get back.


 * Cole: Should I change my hat?
 * Varric: Nah, if they're busy staring at your hat, they're ignoring all your other flaws.
 * Cole: A silk shirt with three buttons left undone.
 * Varric: Exactly! If you can't be flawless -and no one can- be flashy. Nobody will know the difference.


 * Varric: How are you holding up, Kid? You've been quiet for a while.
 * Cole: My shoelaces keep coming untied.
 * Varric: You're doing fine.
 * Cole: Can you talk to them? They don't listen to me.
 * Varric: Maybe not so fine... Don't talk to them, Kid. Just tie them in knots.


 * Cole: I like travelling with Dwarves.
 * Varric: I'm glad to hear it, Kid.
 * Cole: You're quiet, but the old song still echoes inside, almost like templars.


 * Cole: But he died at the end of the last book. If he comes back, the readers will be confused.
 * Varric: Okay, delving into my personal life is one thing, but a writer needs some privacy.


 * Varric: So, Kid, why human?
 * Cole:  It was the shape that would help.
 * Varric: Huh. Most people don't pick a shape. I guess I was hoping for something deeper with that question.
 * Cole:  It had to be him. But harmless. The him he wanted that wouldn't hurt.
 * Varric: Well that's... deeper. I think.


 * Varric: Hey, Kid, back in the last village that farmer was looking past you. Why didn't you let him see you?
 * Cole:  He didn't need me.
 * Varric: Maybe not, but you could learn something by talking with him.
 * Cole:  What would I learn? I can hear when they need me.
 * Varric: You could learn not to scare them so badly that they have to forget you.
 * Cole:  I'll... try.


 * Cole:  How do you make them calm?
 * Varric: Who, Kid?
 * Cole:  Everyone. You talk and the fear fades, slipping to sleep. Not always happy, but not angry.
 * Varric: Most people are like cats. They either puff up to look dangerous or they crouch down and hope you don't see them. You show them you're not a victim or threat, and they're in your lap and purring before you know it.
 * Cole:  Cats swat my feet even when no one can see me.
 * Varric: That explains a lot.


 * Varric: How are you feeling, Kid?
 * Cole:  If you don't get some sunshine you wilt. She says she's not a plant, she's fine, but falling, faltering, foolish. Blood on her hands. People and demons always end in trouble. Too many daisies in this garden. I am good, Varric. I am me. You don't need to worry, but thank you for caring.
 * Varric: Al...right? Well let me know if you ever... er... yeah.


 * Cole:  The heft in my hands, solid, strong, but curving, careful, like her. Soot, smudge on her cheek, tiny scars on her fingers, old fires, her little frowns when she twists her gear ever so slightly.
 * Varric: Yup. That's her, Kid.


 * Cole:  Your stories aren't real. But then people read them and they are!
 * Varric: Nn, get the readers invested and you'll have them forever.
 * Cole:  So many people reading, dreaming, feeling. Spirits spill around the veil making shapes. Reality from writing!
 * Varric: I've got fans in the Fade? Well, that's something. Shame I'll never meet them.


 * Cole:  Do you write to reach across? To hear the song that was sundered?
 * Varric: I'm... not sure what that even means, Kid, but probably?


 * Varric: Hey, Kid, what would a pride demon say to weaken a warrior's resolve? I need something that gets under the skin.
 * Cole:  Does she use a big sword, or a sword and shield?
 * Varric: One of the big two handers.
 * Cole:  The next time you imagine him touching you, someone you love will die.
 * Varric: Err, well, that went a little dark. Who's "him" in this?
 * Cole:  She knows who he is. Does it not work for your book?
 * Varric: No, it works great! Just glad you're not that kind of demon.


 * Varric: Okay, Kid, try it again like we practiced.
 * Cole:  To pairs beats one pair. Four of a kind beats two pairs. She slips the ace of dragons into a thigh-high boot, calls to the barman for another round. Blondie stares at the table, angry, always angry.
 * Varric: Focus, Kid, you can't beat four of a kind with bad memories.


 * Cole:  Do they ever stop talking to you?
 * Varric: Nouns, Kid. Does who ever stop talking to me?
 * Cole:  The people in your head. They aren't real, but they have voices and thoughts and sometimes you see through their eyes.
 * Varric: If they stopped I wouldn't have to write so much.


 * Cole:  I think I have it. Let me try again.
 * Varric: Alright, Kid, let's see what you've got.
 * Cole:  Knock, knock.
 * Varric: Who's there?
 * Cole:  Cole.
 * Varric: Cole who?
 * Cole:  It's me, Cole. That is my name.
 * Varric: No, no. You're still not getting it. Sorry, Kid.


 * Cole:  Knock, knock.
 * Varric: Okay, I'll buy it. Who's there?
 * Cole:  The Inquisition.
 * Varric: The Inquisition who?
 * Cole:  That's who we are, Varric?
 * Varric: Er... yeah. That's not working either. You didn't get that one from Sera, did you?


 * Varric: Okay, try it again, you'll get it.
 * Cole:  Knock, knock.
 * Varric: Who's there?
 * Cole:  Me.
 * Varric: (Sighs.) Me who?
 * Cole:  Me. And I'm telling a knock knock joke.
 * Varric: Um... that was... closer keep trying.


 * Varric: So, Kid, you don't have any formal combat training at all?
 * Cole:  No? I go where the knife needs to be.
 * Varric: ...er. Whatever works for you.


 * Sera:  Turning creepy loose on your stuff? Not a good idea, dwarfy.
 * Solas: Smuggling? That is certainly a... unique use of a spirit's innate power of persuasion.
 * Sera:  Dwarf...
 * Varric: I'm just asking.

Varric and Dorian

 * Dorian: What's a deshyr from the Merchant's Guild doing in the middle of a battle against ancient evils?
 * Varric: I could ask the same thing of a pampered noble Tevinter.
 * Dorian: You can't call me pampered! Nobody peeled a grape for me in weeks!
 * Varric: Talk to Josephine. She can arrange something.

(Dorian not romanced) (Dorian romanced)
 * Dorian: So what's your estimation, Varric? Think we could win?
 * Varric: You are asking me to give odds to our beloved inquisitor success!
 * Dorian: What would that look like? Three to one? (laughs.)
 * Varric: In his favor?
 * Dorian: After Corypheus pulled an archdemon out of his ass, are you joking?
 * Inquisitor: You would actually bet against me?
 * Now now, if I weren't here, it would be five to one at least.
 * Dorian: I take those odds. This is why I adore him so.
 * Inquisitor: Enough, both of you!
 * Varric: I agree. So morally reprehensible to bet against your own side.
 * Dorian: (grunts.) I am a bad man. We'll talk later.


 * Dorian: Varric, I want a new nickname.
 * Varric: What's wrong with sparkler? Not colorful enough for you?
 * Dorian: You must know me better now. Or does the moniker you gave me five minutes after we met still apply?
 * Varric: I have the eyes of a story teller. It's a gift.
 * Dorian: So, I'm a bit of light you stick in a window sill to impress passersby? All flash, no heat? Hmm... that's actually pretty clever.
 * Varric: See? Embrace your place in the universe, sparkler.


 * Dorian: I'm very sorry about Hawke, Varric.
 * Varric: Yeah, well... what can you do.
 * Dorian: Does he have any family, or...
 * Varric: I've had to write some letters. Let's not talk about it.


 * Varric: How are you feeling about that bet now, Sparkler?
 * Dorian: Still good actually.
 * Varric: You're crazy! We're beating Corypheus everytime we turn around. He's on the run!
 * Dorian: We're beating his minions, my hirsute little friend. Not the same thing. Besides, the moment we beat Corypheus into the sand, I'll be more than happy to pay up.
 * Varric: Heh, if he crunches us, you'll be dead.
 * Dorian: That will make it hard to spend my winnings, true.


 * Varric: Should you be married off right now, Sparkler? Little magelets running amok.
 * Dorian: If my family had their way.
 * Varric: Had someone lined up for you, huh?
 * Dorian: Livia herathinos. Bright girl, hourglass figure, wicked tongue. Relieved I'm gone, I expect.
 * Varric: Sounds like you two would have made a happy couple.
 * Dorian: Oh yes. Trading coy insults at every party would have been a delight.


 * Varric: What do you think, Sparkler. Ten royals says the next thing we run into farts fire.
 * Dorian: I'll take that bet. I win either way.


 * Dorian: Alright, never let it be said I don't pay my debts. Here you are, five royals.
 * Varric: I tried to warn you.
 * Dorian: I had no idea nugs possess such creepy little feet. Stuff of nightmares.


 * Dorian: You know, Varric, I went to Kirkwall once.
 * Varric: Yeah?
 * Dorian: Bit of a shithole.
 * Varric: Yeah...


 * Varric: Planning on settling that fifteen crowns debt anytime soon, Sparkler?
 * Dorian: And if I don't? Do you have tiny enforcers come strip me of my holdings?
 * Varric: No, I don't know, I suppose I could always send a letter to your family.
 * Dorian: The dwarf plays dirty! Alright, alright, you win. This time.


 * Varric: I see you eyeing Bianca, Sparkler. Hands to yourself.
 * Dorian: I would't worry, she's not my type.
 * Varric: Huh. And here I thought you're a man of refined taste.
 * Dorian: For fine wine and literature, Varric. Not for... whatever that contraption is.
 * Varric: Contraption!? Don't listen to him, sweetheart. His people are vilified for a reason.


 * Dorian: So Varric, are you and Cassandra... ?
 * Varric: What? No! Why would you even ask that?
 * Dorian: Truly? Bizarre.
 * Cassandra: I'm right here!
 * Dorian: See? She's right there. What are you waiting for?
 * Varric: Just because two people dislike each other doesn't mean they're about to kiss, Sparkler.
 * Dorian: Not according to your books.
 * Varric: Don't mistake me for that hack who wrote Hard in Hightown II. I can spell.


 * Varric: So, Sparkler, what do you think of the Inquisition so far?
 * Dorian: It's certainly interesting. An archdemon attacking me, that's a first.
 * Varric: Twenty royals says you'll see something weirder before the day's out.
 * Dorian: I don't think I should take that bet.


 * Varric: I got to ask, does any of this shit make sense to you?
 * Dorian: To me? Are you referring to the giant hole in the sky? Or the creature out of chantry cautionary tale who wants to be a god?
 * Varric: Either, I'm feeling generous.
 * Dorian: What's the problem? Someone shows up, tears the place apart, declares himself a king? That's half of history.
 * Varric: Corypheus is that terrifying drunk nobody'll ask to leave?
 * Dorian: Even after he puts a hole in the ceiling. Terribly common.


 * Dorian: You owe me twenty royals, Varric. I'd like them paid in candied dates.
 * Varric: I haven't lost that wager yet.
 * Dorian: You said we'd be ass-deep in trouble. This is more like knee-high.
 * Varric: I didn't specify whose ass, did I?
 * Dorian: Leave it to a dwarf, always lowering the bar.


 * Dorian: Varric, when you were at the Winter Palace, did you meet Celene's handmaidens?
 * Varric: The ones that finish each other's sentences? Yes I did.
 * Dorian: They were asking me about you. Personal things.
 * Varric: Err... how personal?
 * Dorian: Something about your chest hair, and whether you were currently... involved with anyone.
 * Varric: Huh, creepy.


 * Dorian: So these books you write, Varric... who actually reads them?
 * Varric: Why, anyone with some taste and a lust for adventure.
 * Dorian: That's a lot of people? Do the southern masses even know how to read?
 * Varric: (sighs.) Such an elitist.
 * Dorian: Yes? I left my homeland, Varric, I didn't up and turn peasant.


 * Dorian: I'd assumed you'd go up to Weisshaupt with Hawke, Varric.
 * Varric: Still business to deal with here, don't you think?
 * Dorian: You should be thankful. I've been to Weisshaupt. It's not good. Carved into a mountain, cold, dour, everyone so bloody serious they can't take a piss... you wouldn't like it.
 * Varric: Hawke would be there.
 * Dorian: And he/she is quite the ray of sunshine, that's true.


 * Dorian: Varric, did I hear this right? You met Corypheus before?
 * Varric: We didn't have tea and crumpets, Sparkler. I was there when he woke up.
 * Dorian: And he said, what? "Hello, I'm one of the magisters who broke into the Black City. Pleased to meet you!"
 * Varric: More like (clear throats) "Argh, I'm a darkspawn! Dumat! Dumat!" Then Hawke killed him.
 * Dorian: Not very well, it appears.
 * Varric: Tell me about it.


 * Varric: So I hear you're kind of the black sheep in your family, Sparkler.
 * Dorian: Where does that saying come from? I'm not a sheep. No one in my family could be described a "sheep".
 * Varric: I'm just saying, you and I have... something in common.
 * Dorian: Goodness, I had no idea.
 * Varric: Okay, not that much in common.


 * Dorian: Come on just answer the question, Varric
 * Varric: My mother didn't raise any morons, Sparkler, I won't touch that one.
 * Dorian: You must have an opinion. And you're a dwarf! Completely unbiased!
 * Varric: There's no way I'm answering "which inquisition mage is the best-dressed." Not for all the gold in Orzammar.
 * Vivienne: Also, the answer is obvious.


 * Varric: So you're not in the magisterium?
 * Dorian: For the last time: Not everyone in the Imperium is a magister.
 * Varric: But they do pretty much hand out seats like they're candy.
 * Dorian: Yes, but it's that black licorice candy with salt on it, not the good kind.


 * Dorian: Care to play another game of cards when we get ack to Skyhold, Varric?
 * Varric: Not if it's with your crazy Tevinter rules.
 * Dorian: Now, now, nobody ever died from those. Lately.


 * Dorian: Varric, you've seen this "red lyrium" before, yes?
 * Varric: Wish I hadn't.
 * Dorian: Do you know if a mage could access its power?
 * Varric: Don't go there, Sparkler. Don't wonder if it's useful. Don't even think about it.
 * Varric: Just stay far away, and hope none of it gets to your stupider back home.

Varric and Iron Bull

 * Varric: You know, I met the Arishok.
 * Iron Bull:  Oh, the old one? Man, he had an impressive rack. The new Arishok doesn't have horns at all. Usually means they're destined for something special.
 * Varric: I met him too. The only thing they seem to have in common is a tendency to burn things.
 * Iron Bull: That pretty much sums up the antaam, yes.


 * Varric: So, you're Ben-Hassrath, huh? The spies of the Qunari.
 * Iron Bull: Oh, you've heard of us.
 * Varric: I spent some time in Kirkwall.
 * Iron Bull: That must have been fun.
 * Varric: You could say that.


 * Varric: You're not the first Ben-Hassrath I've run across. Hawke and I were on a caper with one named Tallis.
 * Iron Bull:  You don't say.
 * Varric: She cause us no end of trouble. You wouldn't know her by any chance?
 * Iron Bull:  Hey, one time I ran across this dwarf on the road. Short, grouchy. You think you may know him?
 * Varric: I'm on the Merchant's Guild. Ten royals says I not only know him—he owes me money.
 * Iron Bull:  Oh. Well... no. I don't know Tallis. Sorry.


 * Varric: How could you possibly be a spy?
 * Iron Bull:  Well, it's a pretty easy job. I do some fighting, and drinking, and then once in a while I tell Par Vollen about it.
 * Varric: Heh. Where's the sneaking, plotting, the subtle machinations?
 * Iron Bull:  If you do that, everyone knows you're a spy. Drinking, fighting, writing notes, that's all it really takes.
 * Varric: Jeez. You're really the worst qunari ever, or the best. I can't decide.


 * Iron Bull:  Still waiting for me to do something sneaky and spy-like?
 * Varric: I'll see magical dwarf flying through the sky before that happens.
 * Iron Bull:  Good. Because I'm supposed to ask about your friend Isabela.
 * Varric: See? And I can't still tell if you're shitting me. Sometimes you're so qunari you're making my head hurt.


 * Iron Bull:  So, your girlfriend is a smith.
 * Varric: Yes...?
 * Iron Bull:  She makes weapons... with her own hands?
 * Varric: Among other things...
 * Iron Bull:  That's hot.

(Inquisitor romanced Bull)
 * Varric: So Bull, you and the inquisitor, huh?
 * Iron Bull:  Uhuh...
 * Varric: I'd love some impressions, imagery, something for my next book.
 * Iron Bull:  Sorry, that room is for her/him and me. No one else invited.
 * Varric: Safe harbor from the storm outside...
 * Iron Bull:  All right, now you're just making it weird.

(Bull romanced Dorian)
 * Varric: So Bull, you and Dorian?
 * Iron Bull:  Mm-hmm...
 * Varric: Two worlds tearing them apart, Tevinter and qunari, with only love to keep them together.
 * Dorian: I don't see how this is even remotely your business, Varric.
 * Iron Bull:  Could you make it sound angrier? Love is a bit soft.
 * Dorian: Please stop helping the dwarf!
 * Varric: How about passion?
 * Iron Bull:  Yes... that's better. Love is all starlight and gentle blushes. Passion leaves your fingers sore from clawing the sheets.
 * Dorian: You could at least have had the courtesy to use the bedposts!
 * Iron Bull:  Hey... don't top from the bottom.
 * Varric: (Laughs.) Passion it is then.


 * Iron Bull:  Hey, don't move dwarves have beards? Or at least mustaches or something?
 * Varric: I make up for it elsewhere.


 * Iron Bull:  You're a damn fine marksman. How do you manage that while staring up at everyone's ass the whole time?
 * Varric: In the world of tall people you find ways to keep them from tripping over you.
 * Iron Bull:  You've ever get the asses mixed up?
 * Varric: If I do, Tiny, you'll be the first to know.


 * Iron Bull:  So in your books, the stuff with the spies is all wrong.
 * Varric: If only I'd had you around to consult.
 * Iron Bull:  That "Blue swan flies at midnight" stuff doesn't work. Most times, you pass information on the dead drop. No meetings at all.
 * Varric: Bah... where's the drama in that?
 * Iron Bull:  Urgh... can you mess up the realism of something else? Like lyrium smuggling.


 * Iron Bull:  By the way, Varric, you write some nice fight scenes.
 * Varric: Oh thank you! I'm surprised you think so. They're not exactly realistic.
 * Iron Bull:  Hmm... I figured that out when the good guy did a backflip while wearing a chainmail shirt.
 * Varric: And that didn't bother you?
 * Iron Bull:  Back in Seheron, I fell on a guy who tried to stab me in the guts. I felt the blade chip as it went through my gut and hit my backribs. But I was alive and on top. I sawed through the armor on the rebel's neck, back and forth, until it went red. I don't need a book to remind me that the world is full of horrible crap.
 * Varric: Heh. Impossible swashbuckling it is.


 * Varric: Hey, Tiny, any chance you could get out of the way when I'm trying to shoot?
 * Iron Bull:  Maybe you should stand in front of me. I'd still have a clear shot at the bad guys from the knees up.


 * Iron Bull:  Hey, Varric, you get that thing I asked about?
 * Varric: It should be there next time we head back to base. Not easy to find, by the way.
 * Iron Bull:  Hmm... how do you guys live without this stuff?
 * Varric: I don't see what the deal is honestly, but different taste.
 * Iron Bull:  Ahh... now I just need some hot milk and some of those Orlesian guimauves to put in it.
 * Varric: Hey, what you do with this cocoa is up to you. I don't need to hear about it.


 * Varric: Why go with iron? Iron is brittle. Why not call yourself the Steel Bull or something.
 * Iron Bull:  Steel Bull is already taken by a pit fighter in Antiva city. Thought about Veridium, but it turns out that there's two exotic dancers in Llomerryn that use that one. Identical twins.
 * Varric: Hm... silverite?
 * Iron Bull:  Tavern in Rialto.
 * Varric: (Laughs.) So iron was the only thing left.
 * Iron Bull:  Well, I could have gone into textiles, but that sends the wrong message.


 * Varric: I've got to ask, what's with qunari and their swords?
 * Iron Bull:  That's just the warriors. Ben-Hassrath use whathever tool's right for the job. Besides, didn't you name your crossbow after a woman?
 * Varric: Huh. Point taken.


 * Varric: Is the Qun some kind of big secret? How come no qunari I've met would explain it even slightly?
 * Iron Bull:  It's not a secret. It's just too big for a quick chat. "Tell me about the Qun" is like saying "Tell me about economics". Most qunari know just enough to get by. It's like a blind dwarf trying to figure out a dragon by touch. Only the priests really have the whole picture. And they spend their whole lives figuring that crap out.
 * Varric: Well, I'll leave them to it then.


 * Iron Bull:  You know what I miss? Horn balm. It's impossible to get it out here.
 * Varric: Really? Back in Kirkwall you couldn't kick open a crate without finding a jar of the stuff.
 * Iron Bull:  Really? You got any?
 * Varric: Ummm... No. We usually just threw it away.
 * Iron Bull:  (Grunts.) Horns. Itching.


 * Iron Bull:  Ahh... These are the types of fights I love.
 * Varric: Really?
 * Iron Bull:  Every day back in Seheron I waited for a dagger in the back. Is that civilian secretly working for the Vints? Or is she just scared because she's caught between us and them? Here, the bad guys practically have signs. It's so much easier.
 * Varric: Well, it is simpler, I give you that.


 * Iron Bull:  Hey, Varric, are you gonna write me into one of your stories?
 * Varric: How could I not?
 * Iron Bull:  When you do, make sure you describe the musculature right. 'Cause this isn't just endurance work—there was a lot of strength training to get here. You wanna use words like "rippling", or "ripped". "Ripped" is good too.
 * Varric: Hmm... The Iron Bull's belly was prone to rippling after every meal. He rarely wore shirts as they ripped under the strain.
 * Iron Bull:  That hurts, Varric. That's hurtful.


 * Iron Bull:  Hey, Varric, I was reading your stuff. Where do your bad guys come from?
 * Varric: Well, some of them come from Tevinter and some are Ben-Hassrath spies, but I like the story where the villain was the man beside you the whole time. The best villains don't see themselves as evil. They're fighting for a good cause and willing to get their hands dirty.
 * Iron Bull:  All right that's... really deep and all but, I meant where do the bad guys come from literally. The way you write it is like they just fall from the sky and land on top on the hero.
 * Varric: I like to leave some things to the reader's imagination.


 * Varric: You doing all right, Bull? I heard you breathing a little hard after the last fight.
 * Iron Bull:  (Grunts.) Lung exercises. Clearing the stale humors. It's a Qun thing.
 * Varric: Uhuh...
 * Iron Bull:  Hey... some of us have to swing a giant hunk of metal instead of pulling our girlfriend's trigger from the back row.
 * Varric: (Laughs.) Ouch.
 * Iron Bull:  Too close to home?
 * Varric: No, no... that was good. I should find some way to work that into my next book.
 * Iron Bull:  All right, but it was my line. You're gonna credit me in the acknowledgements, right?

Varric and Sera

 * Sera: Stop doing that. I can hear how you’re looking at me. You’re doing that thing where you describe what we’re doing.
 * Varric: Narration. And you can hear how I’m looking?
 * Sera: That’s a thing. Just stop it.
 * Varric: I will try my best not to do the impossible.


 * Varric: Enjoying the Inquisition so far, Buttercup?
 * Sera: Oh sure, right? Happy as a pig in clover.
 * Varric: Shit.
 * Sera: What?
 * Varric: The phrase is commonly “happy as a pig in shit”.
 * Sera: Really? Eugh. Nature’s rubbish.
 * Varric: No argument there.


 * Sera: Alright, why “Buttercup”?
 * Varric: You seem the type. Or exactly not the type. I forget how these things are supposed to work sometimes.
 * Sera: You don’t forget anything.
 * Varric: And you noticed! That’s why you’re Buttercup.


 * Sera: So why are you here? Slumming it with us lowlies? Get your fun that way?
 * Varric: You’ve seen nobles. You think I’d get any fun hanging out with them?
 * Sera: Right. “Them”.


 * Sera: Dwarves are weird.
 * Varric: No argument here.
 * Sera: (frustrated noise) You’re doing this wrong!


 * Sera: I read one of your books, Varric.
 * Varric: The whole book?
 * Sera: Shut it. Anyway, it was boring. Your "adventures" are boring. I've seen way better just walking around.
 * Varric: That's because you do things. Escapist fiction for you would be cross-stitch or knitting.
 * Sera: Oh! Knitting is brilliant! It's stabby sewing!


 * Sera: Aren’t you supposed to tell fun stories? Why are they all so boring?
 * Varric: See, I’d be offended if I didn’t know your “boring” actually means “made of words”.


 * Varric: So what exactly is the deal with the Friends of Red Jenny?
 * Sera: Why are you lot always on about this? There's no deal. You just do things.
 * Varric: Just... "things" like... whatever.
 * Sera: Just things.
 * Varric: Like the, what, the hundred or so groups in Kirkwall, that sat around all night dressed as guards or exotic dancers, waiting to jump out and hit someone?
 * Sera: Nah, a friend shut them out. But they were legend, right?


 * Varric: Seriously, Buttercup, nothing about the way you run things could possibly work!
 * Sera: They work. They’ve done more. This is just...what I do.
 * Varric: Well what you do doesn’t make sense!
 * Sera: Oh yeah? Well you don’t make sense either!
 * Varric: (sigh) Should I push, or am I just setting myself up for “Your face doesn’t make sense”?
 * Sera: Your--shut it!


 * Varric: You were in Denerim, huh?
 * Sera: I’ve been lots of places.
 * Varric: From what I’ve heard, the Jenny thing wasn’t so playful down there.
 * Sera: Right, well, everyone knows an arse or two.
 * Varric: I’m just saying, it seems like you’re not having the effect you could.
 * Sera: Well, hello third arse.


 * Varric: You know, Buttercup, you might get better results from your Friends if you planned ahead a little.
 * Sera: See? That’s how I know you’re not really one of us. You think like a noble.
 * Varric: Nah, I’m more of a pretender, really.
 * Sera: You--what?
 * Varric: I’ll keep acting like a big shot and hope it sticks. That’s pretty much how the surface dwarf thing works.
 * Varric: Doesn’t matter. Point is, if you put a little more work in, you could pull off much bigger pranks!
 * Varric: Think about it.

Or
 * Varric: So you bagged the silver, sent letters the first night, then six Friends by the river?
 * Sera: Bartered the keys and never even saw Lordy. Half the fun, but that’s alright. Twice the take!
 * Varric: Ah, that was just the start, Buttercup! A maneuver to increase pressure and reward in a secondary caper.
 * Sera: Yeah! A what?
 * Inquisitor: You two aren’t causing too much trouble, I hope.
 * Varric: Causing? No. Harnessing is a better word.
 * Sera: Smarty-pants here really knows how to wring them out.
 * Inquisitor: I’m sure this spirit of cooperation will benefit the Inquisition somehow.
 * Varric: I would say we have indeed made investments that will flower in future dividends.
 * Sera: I’m buying you two crowns!


 * Sera: I dunno why you’re so smug. I know way more people than you.
 * Varric: Quality over quantity.
 * Sera: Pbblt! Winner over loser.


 * Sera: You’re not better than me, you know.
 * Varric: When did that come up?
 * Sera: So what if you have friends who do shit for you and are organized?
 * Varric: I’m pretty sure we were never having this fight, Buttercup.
 * Varric: And probably still aren’t.


 * Sera: That problem you had down the Bannorn? Fixed it.
 * Varric: Now why would you think I had concerns out that way?
 * Sera: I’m still better at having chatty friends. Anyway, your caravan got away.
 * Varric: Hypothetically, how many people did that cost?
 * Sera: One angry cook and a side of bad pork. The shits stop a search as well as anything. Not every plan needs days and ropes and stuff.


 * Varric: Buttercup, the kitchen’s missing all their lard. Was that you?
 * Sera: (snorting laughter) Yeah.
 * Varric: You know, I don’t even want to ask what you did with it. I just want to say…
 * Varric: Nice work.


 * Sera: Who names their bow? It’s just a thing. That’s stupid.
 * Varric: It’s a crossbow. One of a kind. And far smarter than current company.
 * Sera: Oh, kiss it already. And tell Booty, Coaty and...Other Booty, I’m real sorry.
 * Varric: We’re a very forgiving family.
 * Varric: You’re eyeing Bianca, Buttercup. She’s taken.
 * Sera: That thing is too complicated. Lots to break.
 * Varric: She’s a particular lady, but the rewards more than match the effort.
 * Sera: That means you agree but don’t want her to know. But “she’s” just a thing!
 * Varric: Someone’s jealous. She has that effect.
 * Sera: Someone’s an arse. You. You’re an arse.


 * Sera: So Bianca? (giggles)
 * Varric: Nope. Not going there.
 * Sera: That's what she said, probably. Because you two are friggin weird.
 * Varric: Fair point, Buttercup. Fair point.


 * Sera: Why don't you have real Bianca instead of fingering your fake?
 * Varric: It's... complicated.
 * Sera: But you handle things. Secret network and all that.
 * Varric: Dwarven ways are dug in deep. Let's just say I don't quite have the reach. She lacks a certain flexibility.
 * Sera: Pity. Now I wonder how you two look naked.
 * Varric: Like I said I don't have the- you know. I'll just leave that one to you.

(If Inquisitor is in a relationship with Sera)
 * Varric: Be careful Buttercup. These sorts of romances often don't end well.
 * Sera: What sorts? What are you on about now?
 * Varric: You bagged yourself a rare breed, the driver of a story, a protagonist. And a good story. Well, that's about hurting good characters and seeing how they react. I've seen it. And wrote it. A thousand times. Expect some dramatic bumps in the road that's all.
 * Sera: She's human. Not whatever you said. Weirdy.

(If the Inquisitor is a dwarf and in a relationship with Sera)
 * Sera: I think it bugs her that dwarves are so smooshy.
 * Varric: We are adorable.
 * Sera: You? You’re just itchy. With your hair and...words.
 * Varric: But still irresistibly cute. It’s my burden to bear.

Varric and Solas

 * Solas: Varric, you joined the Inquisition when seeker Pentaghast questioned you?
 * Varric: She was very insistent that I help.
 * Solas: Interesting.
 * Varric: What's Interesting?
 * Solas: It surprised me that an elven apostate is the one who joined the Inquisition voluntarily.


 * Solas: By the end of Hard in Hightown, almost every character is revealed as a spy or a traitor.
 * Varric: Wait, you read my book?
 * Solas: It was in the Inquisition library. Everyone but Donnen turned out to be in disguise. Is that common?
 * Varric: Are we still talking about books or are you asking if everyone I know is a secret agent?
 * Solas: Are there many tricksters in dwarven literature?
 * Varric: A handful, but they're the exception. Mostly they're just honoring the ancestors. It's very dull stuff. Human literature? Now there's where you'll find the tricky, clever, really deceptive types.
 * Solas: Curious.
 * Varric: Not really. Dwarves write how they want things to be. Humans write to figure out how things are.


 * Solas: Varric, you fought Corypheus once before?
 * Varric: Not my fondest memory, but yes, I did.
 * Solas: And you killed him. You were certain of his death?
 * Varric: Yes. What's on your mind, Chuckles?
 * Solas: He survived the explosion that destroyed the Conclave.
 * Solas: If he can live through a blast that levels a mountaintop, we would do well to determine how.
 * Varric: Even if we knew, would that help us?
 * Varric: The Wardens couldn't kill him, and they had a thousand years to figure it out.


 * Varric: You really spend most of your time in the Fade?
 * Solas: As much as possible. The Fade contains a wealth of knowledge for those who know where to look.
 * Varric: Sure, but I don't know how you dream, let alone wander around in there.
 * Varric: Especially when the shit that comes out of the Fade generally seems pretty cranky.
 * Solas: So are humans, but we continue to interact with them... when we must.


 * Varric: You know what I like about you, Chuckles? Your boundless optimism.
 * Solas: It's comforting that whatever qualities I lack, you'll invent for me, Varric.
 * Varric: No, really. Why else would an elven apostate help crazy Chantry folk close a hole in the sky?
 * Solas: When you put it like that, I must concede your point.


 * Solas: Is it true that the entire dwarven economy relies upon lyrium?
 * Varric: Mostly. We've got the nug market cornered as well.
 * Solas: And the dwarves of Orzammar have never studied lyrium?
 * Varric: If they have, they certainly haven't shared anything up here. Why?
 * Solas: It is the source of all magic, save that which mages bring themselves.
 * Solas: Dwarves alone have the ability to mine it safely. I wondered if they had sought to learn more.
 * Varric: The folks back in Orzammar don't care much about anything but tradition.

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 * Solas: Do you ever miss life beneath the earth? The call of the Stone?
 * Varric: Nah. Whatever the Stone - capital S - is, it was gone by the time my parents had me.
 * Solas: But... do you miss it?
 * Varric: How could I miss what I never had?
 * Varric: But say I did have that sense, that connection to the Stone. What would it cost me?
 * Varric: Would I lose my friends up here? Would I stop telling stories?
 * Varric: I like who I am. If I want to hear songs, I'll go to a tavern.
 * Solas: You are wiser than most.
 * Solas: I find the fall of the dwarven lands confusing.
 * Varric: What's so confusing about endless darkspawn?
 * Solas: A great deal, although that is a different matter. Dwarves control the flow of lyrium. They could tighten their grip on it.
 * Varric: It's hard to get the attention of the humans when the darkspawn aren't up here messing with their stuff.
 * Solas: You're active in the Carta. You know your people could tug the purse strings. You could claim sovereign land on the surface, or demand help restoring the dwarven kingdom, but you don't.
 * Varric: You're not saying anything I haven't said myself, Chuckles. Orzammar is what it is.
 * Solas: Is there at least a movement to reunite Orzammar and Kal-Sharok?
 * Varric: What is it with you, Chuckles? Why do you care so much about the dwarves?
 * Solas: Once, in the Fade, I saw the memory of a man who lived alone on an island. Most of his tribe had fallen to beasts or disease. His wife had died in childbirth. He was the only one left. He could have struck out on his own to find a new land, new people. But he stayed. He spent every day catching fish in a little boat, every night drinking fermented fruit juice and watching the stars.
 * Varric: I can think of worse lives.
 * Solas: How can you be happy surrendering, knowing it will all end with you? How can you not fight?
 * Varric: I suppose it depends on the quality of the fermented fruit juice.
 * Solas: So it seems.


 * Solas:: I am sorry to have bothered you with my questions about your people Varric. I see so much of this world in dreams. Humans, my own people, even qunari. Dwarves alone were lost to me, save scattered fragments of memory where some spirit cared to watch. Now I know why I see so little.
 * Varric: And why is that?
 * Solas:: Dwarves are the severed arm of a once mighty hero, lying in a pool of blood. Undirected. Whatever skill of arms it had, gone forever. Although it might twitch to give the appearance of life, it will never dream.
 * Varric: I'd avoid mentioning that to any Carta, Chuckles. They might not take it the right way.


 * Varric: What's with you and the doom stuff? Are you always this cheery or is the hole in the sky getting to you?
 * Solas: I've no idea what you mean.
 * Varric: All the "fallen empire" crap you go on about. What's so great about empires anyway?
 * Varric: So we lost the Deep Roads, and Orzammar's too proud to ask for help. So what? We're not Orzammar and we're not our empire.
 * Varric: There are tens of thousands of us living up here in the sunlight now, and it's not that bad.
 * Varric: Life goes on. It's just different than it used to be.
 * Solas: And you have no concept of what that difference cost you.
 * Varric: Oh I know what it didn't cost me. I'm still here, even after all those thaigs fell.
 * Solas: You truly are content to sit in the sun, never wondering what you could've been, never fighting back?
 * Varric: Ha, you've got it all wrong, Chuckles. This is fighting back.
 * Solas: How does passively accepting your fate constitute a fight?
 * Varric: In that story of yours—the fisherman watching the stars, dying alone—you thought he gave up right?
 * Solas: Yes.
 * Varric: But he went on living. He lost everyone, but he still got up every morning. He made a life, even if it was alone.
 * Varric: That's the world. Everything you build, it tears down. Everything you've got, it takes—and it's gone forever.
 * Varric: The only choices you get are to lie down and die or keep going. He kept going. That's as close to beating the world as anyone gets.
 * Solas: Well said. Perhaps I was mistaken.


 * Solas: That crossbow is remarkable, Varric. I am surprised the dwarves have not made more of them.
 * Varric: The woman who made Bianca would rather that not happen. Wars are bloody enough as it is.
 * Varric: A crossbow that fires this far and this quickly with so little training? Every battle would be a massacre.
 * Solas: Indeed. I am surprised, not disappointed.


 * Solas: I have heard your books are very popular, Master Tethras.
 * Varric: I do all right.
 * Solas: I am glad of it.
 * Varric: Really? No sarcasm, no superior attitude?
 * Solas: We live in a dark and angry time, child of Stone. So much of what people believe has come crashing down.
 * Solas: If you bring them a little peace with the worlds you make between the pages, you have done more than most.

Varric and Vivienne

 * Varric: Your accent's not Orlesian, Iron Lady. Where are you from originally?
 * Vivienne: I was born in Wycome, if you must know.
 * Varric: You're a fellow Marcher?
 * Vivienne: Wycome is a civilized city-state. Unlike some.
 * Varric: Yeah. Starkhaven is pretty much a collection of howling barbarians.
 * Vivenne: Which is just slightly less foul than Tantervale.


 * Vivienne: Am I to understand, Varric, that you knew the apostate who destroyed Kirkwall's chantry?
 * Varric: Unfortunately, yes.
 * Vivienne: What could he possibly have hoped to accomplish with such madness?
 * Varric: Exactly what he got: a whole lot of innocent people killing each other.
 * Vivienne: I take it he's no longer on your Winter's end gift list.
 * Varric: Depend. Does a flaming sack of bronto dung count as a gift?
 * Vivienne: Only if you tie it with a silk ribbon, my dear.


 * Vivienne: You know, Varric darling, I read your Hard in Hightown.
 * Varric: You did? Seriously?
 * Vivienne: Most of the Imperial Court did. It was in fashion a few winters ago.
 * Varric: Just how much gold is my publisher stealing from me?


 * Varric: So, Enchanter to the Imperial Court? That's a fancy title.
 * Vivienne: How very observant.
 * Varric: Why aren't you holed up with the empress in Halamshiral?
 * Vivienne: Grand Duke Gaspard laid siege to the city while I was attending to business for the Circle.
 * Varric: Lucky for you, I guess.
 * Vivienne: The Circle shattered, the empire is at war, and the Divine is dead. Only an imbecile would consider this "lucky."


 * Varric: You've got to have a few good stories about the court—intrigue, scandal, seductions?
 * Vivienne: I do. But it doesn't necessarily follow that I would share them.
 * Varric: Not even an amusing anecdote? You don't want a chance to bring someone down or boast a little?
 * Vivienne: Not to you, darling. Where's the benefit there?


 * Vivienne: Do say whatever you're thinking, darling. If you hold it in any longer your face will split apart.
 * Varric: No, no, I don't want to bother you.
 * Vivienne: It's your face.
 * Varric: It's just... I was wondering how you got your nickname: Madame De Fer.
 * Vivienne: It was bestowed by a Marquise, sadly no longer with us.
 * Varric: Alright, that's a good one. I'm writing that down for later.
 * Vivienne: Am I to understand that you... are writing a book about me?
 * Varric: Well, it's just notes right now.
 * Vivienne: What kind of book is it?
 * Varric: I was planning on a political thriller: some backstabbing, power grabbing, maybe a murder or two. The Winter Palace was kinda inspiring and uh... apparently I've got plenty of readers there. I've never really done an Orleasian serial. It's a gamble but, you never know.
 * Vivienne: And what role do I play in this thriller of yours?
 * Varric: Actually, (nervous laugh), you're the villain.
 * Vivienne: (laughs)
 * Varric: Alright, how much trouble am I in for this book?
 * Vivienne: Don't be ridiculous, darling. Why would you be in trouble?
 * Varric: For the villain thing?
 * Vivienne: Not at all! I find it delightful.
 * Varric: Seriously?
 * Vivienne: My dear, if I didn't want for people to fear me, I wouldn't dress like this. The book is perfect.


 * Vivienne: Varric darling, what manner of villain am I in your novel?
 * Varric: You're the, er, scheming duchess? Coldly manoeuvering her political rivals into a trap.
 * Vivienne: Yes, but what am I wearing? You are not going to describe me in anything less than the latest fashions are you?
 * Varric: I'm... going to spend the next few weeks researching Orleasian gowns, aren't I?
 * Vivienne: Yes, my dear. And my mask should be inlaid with opals.


 * Vivienne: How many chapters will this book be, Varric dear?
 * Varric: Well the first one will come out in twelve chapters.
 * Vivienne: The first one?
 * Varric: I've read enough Orleasian fictions to know you never tell a story there in fewer than three complete books. They think you're just warming up after one.
 * Vivienne: And what happens to the scheming duchess in the first book?
 * Varric: Are you asking for spoilers, Madame De Fer?
 * Vivienne: Hints, darling. Not spoiler.


 * Vivienne: You've never answered my question, Varric darling.
 * Varric: You still want hints on how my unfinished serial will turn out?
 * Vivienne: I'm providing you with details of Orleasian court life. Shouldn't you owe me something in return?
 * Varric: I already gave you a big one, Iron Lady.
 * Vivienne: Oh, really?
 * Varric: Really! If the book is a trilogy what is the odds the villain can be defeated in book one?
 * Vivienne: Mmm, that will do.


 * Vivienne: Tell me, Varric, who is the protagonist of this serial?
 * Varric: You know, we're so far into spoiler territory right now. I think I better stop talking.
 * Vivienne: Come now, darling. You can tell me.
 * Varric: Not on your life, Iron Lady. The best way to ensure a book never finish is to tell someone your entire plot.


 * Vivienne: Aren't you rather wealthy to be dirtying your hands like this, Varric?
 * Varric: Nobody told me there was a cutoff. Besides, Iron Lady, you're not poorer than me.
 * Vivienne: I just don't see any profit that would motivate a member of the Merchant's Guild to fight.
 * Varric: I don't know—not being killed by rampaging demons seems to be as good as gold to me.


 * Varric: I have a serious question for you, Iron Lady.
 * Vivienne: I can hardly wait.
 * Varric: In the Imperial Court, if someone use the wrong fork at dinner, is that worse than death or just social suicide?
 * Vivienne: It's impossible to say, my dear. Anyone who has ever so mis-stepped was stabbed to death with the proper fork.


 * Vivienne: I can't understand, Varric, that someone born into wealth and power would choose to live like a peasant.
 * Varric: Let's be fair, I live like a rich peasant.
 * Vivienne: You ignore your peers and spend your time amongst laborers and criminals in taverns.
 * Varric: Hah, I wish. These days is all outposts and marchings.
 * Vivienne: You know perfectly well what I mean, darling.
 * Varric: Look. All those things you like about nobility: power, wealth, notoriety—those are the things I hate about it.
 * Vivienne: You have a very peculiar taste.
 * Varric: Heh, just wait until you meet my friends.


 * Vivienne: Varric darling, what's the name of your tailor?
 * Varric: Why? I don't think he makes anything in your size.
 * Vivienne: I want to send a sternly worded letter.


 * Vivienne: I suppose you support the Chantry as a business decision, Varric?
 * Varric: Oh, it's more of a personal decision.
 * Vivienne: Really? You can't possibly be one of the faithful.
 * Varric: I don't like seeing them explode and destroy cities. Faith's not really a big factor there.

Varric, Cassandra, and Solas

 * Varric: So, who do you think is the toughest: Josephine, Leliana, or Cassandra?
 * Cassandra: I'm right here, you know.
 * Varric: That doesn't rule you out, Seeker.
 * Solas: Cullen's not up for consideration?
 * Varric: Curly? They just keep him around to look pretty.


 * Solas: What would the Inquisition do without our stabilizing influence, Master Tethras?
 * Varric: I'd assume they'd just start burning things
 * Solas: That does sound like most humans I know.
 * Cassandra: If you gentlemen are quite finished?
 * Varric: Now, now, don't get touchy. We're just here to lend you simple humans our help.
 * Solas: Before you cause everything to explode.
 * Varric: Again.