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Phew, I didn’t realize how late it is, Lorelei thought to herself as she flipped the ‘on break’ sign over on the counter. “Keep an eye on the front for me, pup.”
“You got it!” Bren eagerly set down the large stack of books he was carrying on a nearby table. It wasn’t often that he got to watch the front of the shop. Lorelei smiled to herself at his eagerness and headed through the hidden entrance. The hideout lounge was surprisingly homey for a base of operations. The fire crackling in the fireplace provided warmth and ambiance to the lounge; she guessed that it was intentional on Ashur’s part, a place of respite from all of the horrors they see on the day-to-day.
Lorelei reached into the cupboard and grabbed her favorite snack— a jar of pickled eggs. She scooped out a few onto a plate and grabbed a bunch of grapes from the fruit basket. Tarquin had picked them up on his way back from the Archives, and she wasn’t one to turn down fresh fruit. She pulled out a chair and sat down at the banquet-sized table. It was a relatively slow day at the shop, so she wanted to take advantage of the rare lull in customers and take an extended lunch break.
“Mind if I sit here?” Lorelei looked up from her plate to see the former Magister Maevaris Tilani looking at her expectantly.
“Not at all,” Lorelei said through a mouthful of egg. “I’m surprised you have time to take a break.” She gestured to the seat perpendicular to her in invitation.
Maevaris laughed as she set down her coffee cup. “A girl’s got to have her coffee,” she said. As she smoothed her satin dress under her legs to have a seat, Lorelei could smell the faintest whiff of Maevaris’s perfume; it was an understated, almost earthy, scent that she couldn’t place. She expected some decadent currant and musk perfume from Pluvairi Plaza in the upper city. It almost reminded her of her mother’s old perfume.
“Are those pickled eggs?” Maevaris rested her chin on her hand as she leaned in to see what Lorelei was eating.
“Oh, uh—” Lorelei was taken aback. “—yeah, it’s a Fereldan classic. Heals any ailment, or so my mum told me. Bren says they stink, but his shoulder pain cleared right up as soon as he ate one!”
Maevaris laughed at that. “That’s right, you’re from Ferelden. Do you miss it?”
“It’s been so long since I’ve been there, I probably wouldn’t even recognize it now. My family is gone, so there’s no reason for me to go back.” Lorelei absentmindedly played with the Denerim Vhenadahl carving around her neck. Maevaris paused, seemingly considering her words carefully before continuing.
“I’m sorry— I didn’t mean to reopen old wounds.” She had heard about the Shadow Dragons’ skirmish outside Vol Dorma and how one of the freed slaves volunteered to join them, but she had forgotten that she was one of the elves from the Denerim alienage sold into slavery to the Imperium by Loghain Mac Tir.
Lorelei waved a hand at the apology. “I’ve come to terms with what happened to me. For the longest time, all I felt was anger— I wanted every Magister to feel even a touch of the pain that I felt,” she sighed. “I had watched everyone I’d ever known be carted away Maker knows where.” She felt embarrassed to be so vulnerable, but Maevaris’s face didn’t change at hearing her story. She listened intently, not take it as an opportunity to posture about how she is ‘one of the good ones’.
“What changed your mind? We could have gotten you settled somewhere outside Tevinter, where you could have a fresh start— yet Tarquin told me that you signed on with us immediately.” Lorelei could feel the intensity of Maevaris’s gaze; it made her feel like she was the only person to talk to in the world.
“It had been so long, I was afraid I wouldn’t know how to be free anymore,” Lorelei admitted. “I remembered when I’d heard you and Pavus formed the Lucerni— Thought you were bloody mad,” she laughed, “I thought the Nocen Sea would freeze over before I’d believe two high-blood mages gave a shit about us.” Maevaris snorted as she took another sip of her coffee. She hadn’t spent this much time talking to Lorelei, and she was completely enraptured. She didn’t care about what anyone thought of her, didn’t waste time on hollow pleasantries.
“Then I heard about what you did as a young lady— how you stood on the Magisterium floor in front of those pompous assholes and showed them what you’re about. No fear. No hesitation. Just… you,” she looked away, “and that was enough for me to believe.” Both women sat in comfortable quiet, enjoying the rare moment of peace and companionship.
Upon finishing her cup of coffee, Maevaris broke the silence. “I’ve had my share of hardships in my own way, but I would never claim to know the struggle of those we fight for— that’s why we need people like you, Lorelei. You keep us grounded.”
“Oh, don’t worry, your Magister-ness, I will be the first to kick your door in to bring you back to Earth,” Lorelei promised with a smile. Maevaris felt a smile forming on her face as well.
“You might want to keep an eye on our dear Magister Pavus, then, lest his head get any bigger.” The two women shared a laugh as Lorelei finished her lunch.
Maevaris extended a gentle hand and grasped Lorelei’s. “I’ll let you enjoy the rest of your break. I’ve taken up enough of your time.”
Maker, her hands are so soft. Lorelei felt a warm blush spread from her chest up to the tips of her ears. Quickly grabbing her empty plate, she scrambled to wash it in the sink and return to the front of the shop to see if Bren had made a mess of things.
Maevaris returned to her desk, feeling a sense of contentment that she hadn’t felt in a long time. She put on her reading glasses and began reading through the latest stack of intel that Tarquin dropped in her inbox. The feeling wouldn’t last long, though, as she sensed the ostentatious presence of one Magister Pavus.
“I daresay, someone seems to be in good spirits,” Dorian raised an eyebrow and smirked knowingly. “if I didn’t know you better, I’d say that you had an absolutely titillating conversation with our dear shopkeeper.”
“Just some friendly conversation, Dorian. You know I’m too old to indulge in flights of fantasy,” Maevaris shot back.
Dorian’s gaze softened. “Even you deserve a bit of happiness once in a while, Mae.”
"That's rich coming from you, Dorian,” she smiled and returned to her paperwork. Perhaps one day she might even believe him.