"Not Kirkwall, no. I was just thinking about the places we've all left behind, whether we left to join the Inquisition, or had to leave for other reasons. For me, this is such a change. I've been with my clan my whole life." And there's nothing wrong with that; she's just always wanted more.
"I get letters from a few people back there, but I just found myself thinking of them, and what I would be doing right now if I was still there. Probably this." Ellana waves a hand towards the fire. "I kept the fires lit."
"A noble profession," Varric said with such sagely sincerity even he was shocked that he'd managed it with a straight face. Then again, while he would joke about most things, he didn't joke about being warm and, between Skyhold and Haven, he had developed a distinct appreciation for a well kept fire.
"But, then again, if you were there, you'd be missing out on all of the end-of-the-world excitement and charming dwarven company," Varric added a moment later and rubbed his hands together in front of the fire.
In a more serious and less flippant tone, Varric continued: "It's not unusual to miss home, to miss the people left behind, even if your home is less exciting or, in my case, a cesspit with excellent architecture."
Ellana could only give him a look. It hardly felt noble at the time. It was easy for her to do it with her magic, but it was something that anyone could do with ease and hardly anything that set her apart.
"That's what I figured. Even if I don't want to go back, I miss them." Realizing what she's said, her head lowers a little. "I mean, I do want to go back eventually. To visit. I don't think I could go back and live there permanently again." Which probably isn't a surprise to the others in the clan. After Gavin, Ellana is the one most likely to run and not look back.
Only maybe she'll look back a little.
"Will you return to Kirkwall, after all this is over? And don't say anything like 'provided I survive.' Think positively."
Varric could only chuckle at her preemptive reprimand. He couldn't argue it, she'd pegged his answer almost as quickly as the words had come to him. After a pause, though not nearly one so long as a question like that deserved, Varric nodded.
"Yeah." It was strange to think optimistically and ran counter to every inclination he had, but he managed it well enough. "It's my home and, last I saw, it was...politely? In pieces. Many pieces.
"I'd like to go back, to help with reconstruction, but this Inquisition stuff is more important. I'm here until we're done, for better or worse; I just hope that Kirkwall's still standing by the time I head back."
He glanced at her and cocked a brow.
"Now, I can't say I'm too surprised that you don't want to go back to tending the fires in a Dalish camp, but that's just the storyteller in me. What's the point of a character arc if they end where they began, right?" Varric said casually. "You have any idea what you do want to do, you know, assuming we don't all die horrible deaths and the world ends?"
"That's a good goal to have, and I'm sure the people there would appreciate your help." After all, he's a famous author. He must have the funds to donate to such a noble cause.
His question has a slow smile spreading across her face. "Well," she begins, "I've been reading up on elven ruins. Whatever I can get my hands on in the library. I have to sift through all the bias, but once I find something good, I can spend hours just learning about a place. And that's just what explorers have found so far. I want to visit these ruins and see if I notice something they haven't. I want to walk where my ancestors walked, back when we had a home."
Whatever he'd been expecting, it wasn't that--not that the idea of Dalish elves pursuing their history was something new to Varric, he just hadn't heard of anyone outside of Orlais making a life out of that sort of thing. In fact, aside from one or two Chantry brothers and sisters, he wasn't sure anyone else had ever really tried. Then again, that was probably why most of the recorded history on hand had such a pro-Orlais, overtly Andrastian bent to it, so a Dalish scholar or two certainly couldn't hurt.
"That sounds positively academic, Lilac," Varric praised. "So that's the plan? Wander the world, walk in the shoes of the ancient elves, and maybe write a book or two chronicling your discoveries?"
The idea of a Dalish author writing about historical and archaeological findings was delightful for so many reasons. He could imagine the sour looks and heavy-handed Orlesian disdain already; she'd probably be put on the Chantry's banned list before she ever hit ink. Varric couldn't think of a higher compliment than that.
"Well, I'll definitely take a subscription, if you do," Varric added idly. "Got any idea where you want to start?"
"Well, maybe. I'm not sure I have the talent for writing that you do -- not that I can't write, of course. I can do that as easily as reading. But to write something worth publishing... I'm not sure I could. I would explore and share what I find with the clans. I'd travel between them and be a storyteller, maybe."
Varric has the right idea about her publishing a book, but she assumes she won't even find anyone willing to publish the travels of an uneducated Dalish elf. The Chantry wouldn't even get the chance to ban it.
"But between all the exploration, I'm not sure what I'll do. Maybe I'll come visit all the friends I've made, when we all separate to return to our homes."
"Given how many of us showed up from halfway across Thedas, you may end up trekking between everyone and exploring on the way."
He's pretty glad to hear that she has tenable dreams--not that dreams were supposed to be or even needed to be tenable, but there was something to be said about wanting meaningful, simple things out of life. People who had goals like that usually ended up happier than most and tended to grow old and fat doing what they loved. All things considered, Varric didn't have enough friends who would end up old and fat alongside him, so he was all for this sort of thing.
"You've got to write books," Varric announced with absolute certainty. "Even if they're just journals, you've got to do it. That way, the next bright-eyed, curious Dalish scholar doesn't have to spend a decade digging around ruins just to confirm a story she heard second-hand.
"Besides? If the Dalish are passing my books around, I'm sure they'd collectively jump for joy if someone handed out something of actual interest."
"You make a good point, Varric. If I can add anything that people can access without too much searching, then I should do it." Even if her writing isn't beautiful. She would hate for it to come across as too dry, but anything is better than no information at all, right?
Ellana laughs at Varric putting down his own books. "Now, now, they're entertaining! You've kept many a Dalish reader in suspense for each page."
"Thank you," Varric replied in his best overwrought author's voice. "I do try."
He considered bowing but, what with the denouncing his own work a moment before, it might've come off as a bit desperate. Varric was many things, but desperate for praise wasn't usually one of them. At least he'd managed to pull a laugh out of her, that was an accomplishment, especially considering where this conversation started.
"Now don't get me wrong, I'm not eager for you to start penning out murder mysteries, a dwarf has to protect his market after all, but what use is discovering the secrets of the ancient world if you don't write a couple of them down here and there?"
He paused and considered that.
"Maybe leave out anything likely to summon demons or darkspawn or, at least, limit those to footnotes. Otherwise, it's all fair game. People love reading about ancient secrets and far-flung ruins. It really wouldn't be hard to make a living off of it if you really wanted to."
Ellana shakes her head and exhales a soft sigh. "I've never had to make a living before, but that's something I'll have to consider if I won't be staying in the clan permanently anymore. I should ask Gavin how he makes money while he's out in the world exploring." As stifling as being in the clan can feel, it's a support system she won't have available to her anymore.
"Would you read what I write about? Provided I left out all the demons and darkspawn, of course." Her voice is teasing because, really, Varric? She wasn't planning on including them anyway.
"Of course," Varric answered without hesitation, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I can't imagine I'd need any less than, oh, three copies of the whatever you write? One for me, one for Daisy, and one for Chuckles--wait, four. I can think of at least one dwarven enchanter who'd probably enjoy reading about ancient elf business. Especially if you leave out the Darkspawn."
As firm and unwavering as his previous statement was, his expression took on a note of concerned skepticism as he continued.
"But if you really do plan on making a living, striking out on your own...I'm not sure Lucky is the best person to get advice from. The fact that he hasn't starved or been repeatedly mugged is nothing short of a minor miracle."
"Oh, you noticed that, did you?" Ellana says with a smirk. "Believe me, Gavin will tell me himself that he doesn't know how, but I'll work it out of him. I've known him a long time." Far longer than Varric, at any rate.
"Have you always wanted to be a writer?" she asks, idly swinging her legs back and forth as she sits on the table.
Varric had no doubt that Ellana could get any answers she wanted out of Gavin--his major hang up was that he didn't think Gavin actually had any answers to give her. Still, he knew better than to underestimate Dalish women, so he let the point pass.
"Always?" Varric asked, a note of honest, thoughtful curiosity in his voice.
"You know, I'm not sure," he added and scrubbed a hand along his jaw as he pondered. He'd spent years as a second son, being a notable layabout and building a reasonable spy network--as merchant families did--but was writing his true passion? He supposed it was, as far as anything was, but he still wasn't sure if he'd always wanted to be a writer.
"I may have just picked it up because I had a way with words and Bartrand didn't," Varric admitted. "I always did like rubbing things in his face...and I discovered I enjoy it, so why stop?"
"You're lucky you can make a career out of something you enjoy," Ellana replies. "Not everyone gets that chance." Hopefully people can find other ways to feel satisfied and content in their lives, but having an occupation you don't dread doing, or are bored stiff doing is a boon. It can't be taken for granted.
"Are you writing about things that are happening right now? For a future book, perhaps?"
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no subject
"Not Kirkwall, no. I was just thinking about the places we've all left behind, whether we left to join the Inquisition, or had to leave for other reasons. For me, this is such a change. I've been with my clan my whole life." And there's nothing wrong with that; she's just always wanted more.
"I get letters from a few people back there, but I just found myself thinking of them, and what I would be doing right now if I was still there. Probably this." Ellana waves a hand towards the fire. "I kept the fires lit."
no subject
"But, then again, if you were there, you'd be missing out on all of the end-of-the-world excitement and charming dwarven company," Varric added a moment later and rubbed his hands together in front of the fire.
In a more serious and less flippant tone, Varric continued: "It's not unusual to miss home, to miss the people left behind, even if your home is less exciting or, in my case, a cesspit with excellent architecture."
no subject
"That's what I figured. Even if I don't want to go back, I miss them." Realizing what she's said, her head lowers a little. "I mean, I do want to go back eventually. To visit. I don't think I could go back and live there permanently again." Which probably isn't a surprise to the others in the clan. After Gavin, Ellana is the one most likely to run and not look back.
Only maybe she'll look back a little.
"Will you return to Kirkwall, after all this is over? And don't say anything like 'provided I survive.' Think positively."
no subject
"Yeah." It was strange to think optimistically and ran counter to every inclination he had, but he managed it well enough. "It's my home and, last I saw, it was...politely? In pieces. Many pieces.
"I'd like to go back, to help with reconstruction, but this Inquisition stuff is more important. I'm here until we're done, for better or worse; I just hope that Kirkwall's still standing by the time I head back."
He glanced at her and cocked a brow.
"Now, I can't say I'm too surprised that you don't want to go back to tending the fires in a Dalish camp, but that's just the storyteller in me. What's the point of a character arc if they end where they began, right?" Varric said casually. "You have any idea what you do want to do, you know, assuming we don't all die horrible deaths and the world ends?"
no subject
His question has a slow smile spreading across her face. "Well," she begins, "I've been reading up on elven ruins. Whatever I can get my hands on in the library. I have to sift through all the bias, but once I find something good, I can spend hours just learning about a place. And that's just what explorers have found so far. I want to visit these ruins and see if I notice something they haven't. I want to walk where my ancestors walked, back when we had a home."
no subject
"That sounds positively academic, Lilac," Varric praised. "So that's the plan? Wander the world, walk in the shoes of the ancient elves, and maybe write a book or two chronicling your discoveries?"
The idea of a Dalish author writing about historical and archaeological findings was delightful for so many reasons. He could imagine the sour looks and heavy-handed Orlesian disdain already; she'd probably be put on the Chantry's banned list before she ever hit ink. Varric couldn't think of a higher compliment than that.
"Well, I'll definitely take a subscription, if you do," Varric added idly. "Got any idea where you want to start?"
no subject
Varric has the right idea about her publishing a book, but she assumes she won't even find anyone willing to publish the travels of an uneducated Dalish elf. The Chantry wouldn't even get the chance to ban it.
"But between all the exploration, I'm not sure what I'll do. Maybe I'll come visit all the friends I've made, when we all separate to return to our homes."
no subject
He's pretty glad to hear that she has tenable dreams--not that dreams were supposed to be or even needed to be tenable, but there was something to be said about wanting meaningful, simple things out of life. People who had goals like that usually ended up happier than most and tended to grow old and fat doing what they loved. All things considered, Varric didn't have enough friends who would end up old and fat alongside him, so he was all for this sort of thing.
"You've got to write books," Varric announced with absolute certainty. "Even if they're just journals, you've got to do it. That way, the next bright-eyed, curious Dalish scholar doesn't have to spend a decade digging around ruins just to confirm a story she heard second-hand.
"Besides? If the Dalish are passing my books around, I'm sure they'd collectively jump for joy if someone handed out something of actual interest."
no subject
Ellana laughs at Varric putting down his own books. "Now, now, they're entertaining! You've kept many a Dalish reader in suspense for each page."
no subject
He considered bowing but, what with the denouncing his own work a moment before, it might've come off as a bit desperate. Varric was many things, but desperate for praise wasn't usually one of them. At least he'd managed to pull a laugh out of her, that was an accomplishment, especially considering where this conversation started.
"Now don't get me wrong, I'm not eager for you to start penning out murder mysteries, a dwarf has to protect his market after all, but what use is discovering the secrets of the ancient world if you don't write a couple of them down here and there?"
He paused and considered that.
"Maybe leave out anything likely to summon demons or darkspawn or, at least, limit those to footnotes. Otherwise, it's all fair game. People love reading about ancient secrets and far-flung ruins. It really wouldn't be hard to make a living off of it if you really wanted to."
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"Would you read what I write about? Provided I left out all the demons and darkspawn, of course." Her voice is teasing because, really, Varric? She wasn't planning on including them anyway.
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As firm and unwavering as his previous statement was, his expression took on a note of concerned skepticism as he continued.
"But if you really do plan on making a living, striking out on your own...I'm not sure Lucky is the best person to get advice from. The fact that he hasn't starved or been repeatedly mugged is nothing short of a minor miracle."
no subject
"Have you always wanted to be a writer?" she asks, idly swinging her legs back and forth as she sits on the table.
no subject
"Always?" Varric asked, a note of honest, thoughtful curiosity in his voice.
"You know, I'm not sure," he added and scrubbed a hand along his jaw as he pondered. He'd spent years as a second son, being a notable layabout and building a reasonable spy network--as merchant families did--but was writing his true passion? He supposed it was, as far as anything was, but he still wasn't sure if he'd always wanted to be a writer.
"I may have just picked it up because I had a way with words and Bartrand didn't," Varric admitted. "I always did like rubbing things in his face...and I discovered I enjoy it, so why stop?"
no subject
"Are you writing about things that are happening right now? For a future book, perhaps?"