Sending out the love, before my stupid brother can.
Peekaboo. I see you!
I’d like to thank Hawke for a rather, well. Muddy adventure through the Deep Roads. I hate the Deep Roads. Certainly, there’s cause for adventure, plenty of foul beasts to slay, plenty of opportunities to serve the Maker, but Andraste’s Heel, I am sick to death of mud.
Varric accuses me of being prissy.
Rest assured, my lovelies, I am at your service.
Please, pretty boy. You got the least of the mud, and Hawke was covered in darkspawn muck from head to toe. All YOU had to worry about was a fleck of mud or two on your pretty armour. Hrmph. It’s alright, though. If it -really- bothers you, I suggest a nice, hot bath.
She has a point there. You had a few bits of mud, while the rest of us had waded through… I don’t want to mention it, nevermind, forget I said anything.
You’re complaining because I had the sense to stay out of the..er. Excrement?
Sense? I believe others may say it was more whining than sense. It needed to be crossed.
I would have pushed him in, had I been invited. Stupid Grey Wardens.
…I’m sorry, but. What? Sugarti… I assure you, there is no part of my anatomy made of sugar, nor do I possess those bits.
Thank you? I think? Are you. Are you quite alright? Do you need to sit down?
1) On Your Knees, Always.
2) With a profound amount of devotion. You wouldn’t half ass a gift to the maker, would you?
3) With love in your heart, and a need to fill your, ah, heart.
4) Use your tongue, love.
Praying? Is that what it’s called again?