Work Text:
Chantry, Gahruil signed, forming their hands into fists, placing them on top of each other, and gesturing up and down as if they were pulling a cord. Zevran furrowed his brow, staring at their hands like they would make the noise that Gahruil couldn’t. They kept the sign in place, grinning at him.
“How does that mean Chantry?” he asked finally, and they snorted.
Why, what is it in Antivan? They settled back and Zevran made a triangle with his hands, and added a specific gesture to pull the triangle apart and reform it.
“The steeples, no?” he asked, and they shrugged.
Ferelden doesn’t really do steeples. We’re very square.
“Amen to that,” he said flatly, and they swatted at him.
“Is that the Ferelden sign?” Alistair asked curiously from across the campfire. Gary hadn’t even realized that he was listening. “Around Redcliffe we always—” He put his right hand shaped like a c on top of his left, into a fist same as the s sign.
Maybe it’s the difference between the cities?
“I’d hardly call Redcliffe a city, but you’re probably right,” he said, looking down at his hands. “One of the nursemaids that took care of me couldn’t hear. Eamon didn’t like her.”
“Alistair’s sign is similar to that of Tevinter,” Sten said from his place to Gahruil’s left. “Though the bottom hand is kept flatter with the fingers parted.” Gahruil tried it and he snorted. “Close enough, for all the Tevinters you come across.”
“Down in Orzammar it goes—” Gahruil almost jumped when Oghren joined the conversation, but only because he was halfway to a blackout and loud. He folded his hands with his fingers straight, stretching open his mouth. “Was different all across the empire, though, back when we had one.”
“I wouldn’t think the dwarves would have a sign for the Chantry,” Sten commented idly.
“Unlike all the Andrastian Qunari,” he returned defensively. “It does come up in conversation every now and again. Mostly what did the sodding humans and their Chantry do now? Don’t piss off a human otherwise their Chantry will call an Exalted March on dwarves. The human Chantry smells like old people.”
“It is remarkably similar for elves,” Zevran said dryly. Gahruil had their hand clamped over their mouth to keep themselves from making a weird face while they laughed.
“I thought you were Andrastian?” Alistair asked.
“And also an elf,” he returned, although Gahruil doubted that would make it any clearer for their fellow warden. It clearly didn’t, but he didn’t try to push it— Maker knew Zevran could talk in circles until you got dizzy. “What about this sign?” Zevran asked abruptly, pressing his splayed fingers to his chest with his second finger folded underneath. Gahruil frowned.
What’s it mean? It was against the left side of the chest, so it was something about the heart. They didn’t really get what the splayed fingers were for— maybe something about a mother? That was usually against the opposite hand, but they supposed the point of this conversation was that signs varied across Thedas.
He leaned in close until they could feel his breath on their neck, and murmured amor against their skin. Ah. Guessing heart hadn’t been half bad. They shoved him back, tipping him over the dead log they’d dragged towards the campsite to sit on— when they leaned over to check on him he was laughing, the bastard. “Love, cariño,” he announced while they glowered at him.
“I know that one too!” Alistair announced, crossing both arms over his chest with his hands in fists. Sten inclined his head.
“It is the same in the north,” he said, although he didn’t elaborate on whether or not it was Qunari or Tevinter— or if the two were drastically different.
Gahruil shifted, then clasped both hands over their heart, mouthing love, sort of hoping that their translation was lost. Zevran grinned crookedly, but before he could comment Oghren declared that Orzammar’s version was also the clasped hands.
While everyone else started throwing words across the camp to test them against one another, Zevran did a practical demonstration in Antivan signing. He had clever hands— and Maker he’d be the first to say so but he really did— and even though Gahruil was stuck trying to infer what he was saying based on where and what the sign was, they were getting the gist of it. Unsurprisingly, it made them just as flustered as it did when he was speaking.