Because I am the biggest SAP on this planet, here is a sappified version of the beautifully sappy dance scene from Trollhunters <3 (WATCH IT IF YOU HAVEN’T!!) I am a lost cause. I had a fun little Angor Rot epilogue to this set, maybe I will update it later :D More fanarty goodness to come, gotta hit some of the beloved trolls, hee hoo haa hee.
How do our companions and inquisition members spend their
birthday? If they celebrate at all?
The lady Seeker is restrained in her celebration, a
comfortable seat, maybe putting her feet up and indulging in her favourite
leisure activity of reading smutty fiction.
She might have a glass of fortified wine by her side and reflect on the
seriousness of her surrounds, but she’ll unwind and take time to recoup her
thoughts for fighting another day. There
is no hoo haa, no massive party to think that a quiet moment to herself is not
deserved. However, if the inquisitor
should drop by with some cake, she wouldn’t say no.
The qun don’t celebrate birthdays so Iron Bull picks a
random date to tell others. When people
ask he replies: “Tomorrow, my friend, you can buy me an ale or two!” The Chargers will be there of course,
drinking and singing and much merriment to be had, even if it really isn’t his
birthday. He wonders if he should be
more truthful about this sort of thing, but then he remembers – free beer!
It’s a party and everyone is invited. High tea of course! On the menu: itty-bitty sandwiches, tiny
cakes and the finest chocolates from Orlais.
There is tea of course, and possibly some Antivan spirits. Josie and her ruffles glide from one guest to
the other, fussing over them like the gracious host she is. The discussions are all fluff, no talk of war
or unpleasantness, no, not today inquisitor!
Not when there are such delicacies!
He’s confused by all the fuss. He’s not sure what birthday’s really mean, aside
from it referring to the day you were born, but why go on celebrating? However, he feels great excitement in others about
the event, and even though he sees it as just another step of life, he tries to
blend in with the celebrations directed his way. How could he not enjoy the little cakes made
by the pastry cooks especially for such a day (I can blame calyxofawildflower
He hasn’t celebrated a birthday in many years. Too many years in the wilderness, too many
years running and hiding. When he
becomes Thom Rainier once again, things change.
He takes the process of aging in good humour. An ale shared quietly with Sera, Iron Bull
and the Inquisitor. There may be cake,
but there is far more likely to be more ale, jokes and shared laughs. The merriments make regret pass into the
background, even if it’s only for one evening.
Surprisingly, Sera is not one for rowdy celebrations. She may share a tankard or two with good
friends on their birthdays, but more than anything, on her birthday at least,
she wishes only for the quiet of previous celebrations, where the sky was not
open and demons raining down. More than anything,
her wish is for the world to return to what it was and to go back to living her
life. Only then she’ll really feel like
The dwarf is quick to ignore the day; no one knows what day it
is because he keeps these things to himself.
It’s only Josephine, in a hand of Wicked Grace, who manages to extract
the truth of his birth origin. In
response, he simply nods and continues his hand. Later when all have returned to their
quarters, he pulls out the whiskey bottle and a journal to mark the occasion. Spinning a tale is the best way to celebrate,
the amber fluid slips easily down the back of his throat.
The Tevinter mage is used to indulgences, sex, food and
wine, all three if possible. However, on
the anniversary of his birth he is sombre and reflective about what his life
might have been had he stayed in Tevinter.
When the inquisitor arrives with a bottle of Tevinter’s best year, Dorian
once again falls into mirth and frivolity.
He’ll save his melancholy for another day.
For Madame de Fer it is one of her fears that she will fall
into obscurity with each passing year.
Normally she abstains from celebrating, but once a year she’ll take out
the oldest spirit she has, one from Bastion’s vintage and take a small
shot. Hers is not acknowledgement of
getting older, or the passage of time but of the vast wisdom she has acquired
in her rise from humble origins.
Birthdays are meaningless and frivolous to him. He prefers the vastness of the fade where he
can walk amongst other’s celebrations.
He recognises that he gains a measure of contentment from seeing others
so happy, but he fails to appreciate that the simple pleasures others outside
the dream world’s realm experience with the passing of time is also rich and rewarding.
The man has no time for such nonsense. He only changes his thoughts on the passage
of time in his life when letters arrive from his family. His sister taunts him about it being yet another
year without a visit from him, and if he only came home, there would be a feast
and copious cake to eat. He laughs at
this because he knows that when he leaves such a family gathering to return to
his duties he would be a few pounds heavier, but much lighter in spirit. And in addition, his pockets would be
stuffed full of sweets and cake for the road.
Sister Nightingale, despite her penchant for discreet mayhem
and death, wishes only to dance in a pair of new shoes, but her mind is heavy
with the responsibility of the Inquisition.
Both Cassandra and Josephine remind her that despite the burden of her
duty, her morale needs the occasional boost.
They bring her cake with pink frosting.
She scowls and returns to her prayers. At the war table, the inquisitor asks what
that pink fluffy material is on her lips before winking at Cassandra and Josephine.