Dragon Age Origins: A Tale Of Orzammar No Survey No Password No Download
Eleanora Parrot
Anders is a high priced call girl.
Fenris is a club bouncer.
After Isabela is almost killed over a deal gone bad, Varric asks them to work together to get to the bottom of it before the Templars or the City Guard step in and make life difficult for everyone.
Fenris frowned. Varric had helped him with a lot of not strictly legal things over the years, not least of which was helping him fake two deaths and a kidnapping. He'd do damn near anything Varric would ask of him, so why was he being so cagey? "Of course."
Dragon Age Origins: A Tale of Orzammar no survey no password no download
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That was the last straw. Either Varric was telling the truth, and he needed him, or he was in trouble, and still needed him. Fenris took a breath, willed his tattoos to light, grimaced at the pain, and walked through the door.
Castillon. The name sounded familiar, which would make sense: coastal raiders often would do anything for quick cash, and people were definitely high-risk high-reward goods. It was even possible that Fenris had met him. What was Isabela doing with people like that?
Sparkle - Anders? Was that his name? - smiled. "The whole gang is fine, Merrill, but I'll tell them you send your love." He put the phone down on the edge of the desk. "Got you on speaker with Varric and Bels and . . ." He paused. "It's Fenris, right? Not sure if we've been properly introduced."
Varric sighed, walked around the desk, grabbed their hands and pushed them together, forcing them into the most awkward handshake in Thedas. "Broody, this is Blondie, don't break him. Blondie, this is Broody, same goes for you."
Fasta Vass, surely there was a second one somewhere, right? He went behind the bar to look, but all he found there were two phone books (why?) one shoe, a box of lost IDs, some illegal lyrium potions, an envelope full of lost IDs, a few phones, and a bag of bird seed.
Thank you for all the love! I will be responding to all of these wonderful life-giving comments hopefully soon, but the fic-writing portion of my brain is the same as the commenting/replying portion, and I figure you all would appreciate more Sassy Sparkle over half a dozen "thanks ?" replies
And that was how it had started. An uneasy alliance to spy on an Antivan trafficking ring because Isabela had stuck her neck out too far. The mage's real name was Anders, but "Sparkle was a nickname a while back, and it just stuck, you know?"
He didn't really want to know how Sparkle had been able to acquire such perfectly tailored clothing so quickly without asking his measurements. Perhaps it was just another strange skill set he'd picked up along his apparently eclectic set of careers. Fenris had picked up a few details in snatches over the past few days: he was an orphan or runaway, maybe both, possibly a felon. Well, a felon beyond the clearly illegal magic: Fenris had seen his ID enough times to know it was missing the little hand in a circle icon that denoted a licensed mage. He ignored any direct questions about his past, only making oblique acknowledgements if someone who already knew something referenced it. Usually Bela.
Why did the way he said it feel like a confession? Fenris simply nodded, certain anything more would be met with derision. They made it to Rialto Estates a few minutes later, and the gate guard eyed him skeptically as he pulled up, then brightened as Sparkle unbuckled his seat belt to climb across his lap and stick his head out the window.
The rest of Sparkle's chatter turned into static in his mind as he came to the horrifying realization that there was literally nowhere he could move his hands and not end up grabbing far more of Sparkle than he ever wanted to. He was trapped and transfixed by the warmth of a thigh touching his forearm, and the way whatever magic he used to make himself shimmer so prettily in the light made his tattoos tingle. The sundress was multiple layers, with an outer one made of some kind of mesh that scratched against his skin, and what looked like at least two more below it. He wanted to touch it, to run his fingers through the fabric, feeling the contrast of soft and rough, but there was no way he could without groping him. Even if he could afford it, he didn't want to pay for it. And he he didn't want it regardless. Because Sparkle was a bitch.
Fenris pulled into the driveway and parked. His palms were sweating and his hands hurt from gripping the steering wheel so tightly. He took a slow breath to steady his nerves. Sparkle wasn't being forced to do any of this. It wasn't like how it had been with Danarius.
Sparkle shifted next to him, possibly to reach for him, but Fenris jumped out of the car before he could. He went around and opened up the passenger door and held out his hand like he . . . like he used to. Old habits. Hopefully some of them would be useful. He glared at Sparkle, daring him to argue further.
Pretty eyes? The chair fell on his foot. He hissed in discomfort and he glared at the huge man who was clearly just as annoyed to be here as Fenris. The butler glared back, shoved the chair hard against him, and left.
Sparkle rolled up the sleeves of the onesie, grabbed an apron, and started washing the dishes in the sink. The pearls were still around his wrists, but Fenris was guarding his body, not his jewelry. Monty poured herself a cup of tea, then offered one to Fenris. He shook his head politely and leaned on the far counter.
The next house wasn't on the nicer side of Kirkwall, or even a house: from the outside, the building barely looked habitable. The front door hung crooked off of only a single hinge, and the inside lobby had weeds growing through the floor.
"Have you checked rental prices?" Sparkle snorted as he smacked the button for the fifth floor. "It's something like this or Hightown rates. No in-between. You can tuck away a lot of cash living here. I should know; do - did it myself."
The elevator buzzed and opened slowly, more slowly than it had on the first floor. Sparkle was right, in a way: this level looked more like a crappy hotel instead of practically condemned tenement housing.
Almost like clockwork, Sparkle arrived right at 10:30, and now in something much flashier that earlier: a slinky dark blue dress than clung so tightly that Fenris would be able to tell the year of a sovereign in his pocket, and topped off with a silver corset. Actual silver, not just silver colored fabric - practically armor, and, just like the sun dress, it was enchanted.
The woman laughed. It was a rich throaty rumble, with none of the hesitance or nerves that the clients Sparkle frequently brought to the club often displayed. Then she kissed him full on the mouth, exactly like Keran had tried to and been rebuffed. Not a regular. A friend? How many people did he know? Fenris ordered a virgin gin and tonic, then turned to watch. Supervise.
The elevator opened the moment he pressed it, and when he hit the button for the top floor, a mechanical voice asked him to use the keypad for the access code. As he punched in 6969, he wondered how often the codes changed, or whether they could be deactivated, or only used during certain hours.
When he turned to survey the room, he was stunned. He'd seen decadence many times over the years, but this was . . . something else. The entranceway opened into a recessed living room with three couches, two black, one white, in a semi circle facing an enormous fireplace with a television mounted above it. The outer walls were entirely glass and provided a view of the entirety of Kirkwall, including the lights of ships in the harbor. There was a galley kitchen to his left, small but serviceable, with a pass through counter facing the living room. A bathroom was to his right. He peeked inside and flicked the switch: it too was done entirely in black and white, and the golden mirror frame was studded with opals and pearls. Anywhere else outside of Minrathous and he'd think they were fake.
His feet sank into the thick grey carpet as he walked further in. Two more doors were half open, and a quick glance was enough to see they were both bedrooms, one decorated entirely in black, and the other in white.
An electronic beep made him spin around in time to see Sparkle waltz in, wiping his face and looking pleased. Elissa and her - their? - date were right behind him, and the man looked a little dazed. His suit was mussed up and rumpled, and his shirt was no longer tucked in.
Two chapters at once because the vibes were too different between beginning and end.
Shoutout to Barbex for catching some weird typos, and love to all of you for the continued support and enthusiasm as Sparkle fucks his way across Kirkwall ?
"Exactly." He eased out of Roderick as he massaged her ass, spreading her apart as he scooted back to kiss his way down her spine. Then paused and sat up. "Usually I'm the only one this prepared," he teased.
He reached for his arm, then stopped. "I just mean the bar is full of clients, and seeing Sparkle in pants might kill them." He tried to smile gently, show it for both the joke and the concern that it was.
Anders looked up from his phone and arched an eyebrow, like he was searching his face for something. Apparently, he found it, and grinned. "I do have great legs. But it doesn't matter, I'm not going in."
The kettle started beeping that the water was ready as he got out. He grabbed the towel of the hanger, smiling at how helpless Sparkle had looked without one. Had that only been yesterday? Fasta Vass, had it only been twelve hours ago?
He put the phone down in aggravation, then picked it up again. Then put it down. Then he went and pulled on sweatpants and sneakers and grabbed a hoodie. He left the keys and his phone on the counter as he went out for a jog; the ability to walk through his apartment door was one of the few mundane benefits of the markings.
Chantry parking was always free, and one of the lay sisters led them to a small side room with an enormous stained glass window depicting the Golden City. Sparkle spun the pearls around and around on his wrist and fidgeted with his phone as they waited.
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