bakerstreet | the i n s o m n i a meme

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the i n s o m n i a meme

the i n s o m n i a meme

It happens to everyone - sometimes, you have nights where you just can't fall asleep, no matter what you do. It could be for a number of reasons, or no reason at all. And this is what's happened now: you've been laying in bed for what feels like hours, just tossing and turning, and nothing seems to help. So what's left to do? Get out of bed and go wake someone else up, of course. If you're not getting any sleep, then why should they?

i n s t r u c t i o n s

• Post with your character (note the name and fandom in the subject).
• Other people reply to you by generating a number from 1 to 10.
• Have fun!

o p t i o n s

01 • FEAR. Maybe you're hearing strange, indeterminable noises; maybe there's a severe storm happening outside; maybe you watched a scary movie before bed? Whatever the reason, you're terrified and it's keeping you awake. You just want to wake someone else up so they can protect you from the monster in your closet.
02 • HUNGER. Your stomach is growling and it just won't stop. Or perhaps your throat is so dry you could cough up a tumbleweed? Well, you've gone to the kitchen to remedy this and hey, that was a pan that just dropped on the floor. It was loud enough to wake the dead! Oops.
03 • PAIN. Your body is completely worn out, be it from exercise, battle, sickness, or what have you. Either way you're in enough pain to keep you from sleeping, so maybe someone else has a home remedy or something, or can at least help you take your mind off of it.
04 • SOLITUDE. For some reason, your bed just feels so empty at the moment. You're feeling terribly lonely and really just want someone to keep you company for a while. Maybe it'd be easier to fall asleep if you're with them...
05 • DISCOMFORT. Your room is an oven. Either that or a freezer. Or maybe this bed is just really uncomfortable? Who knows why you can't get to sleep, it feels like it could be anything. Why even bother trying? Maybe someone else can preoccupy you until you feel tired enough to ignore your discomfort.
06 • PENSIVE. Something's on your mind, and no matter how hard you try to focus elsewhere, it's just not going to work. Your body may be tired, but your mind is incredibly busy and it's virtually impossible to get to sleep. Surely, talking it out with someone else will help?
07 • SADNESS. Something terrible has happened that day, perhaps; or you could just be severely depressed. Either way you're trying your hardest not to cry yourself to sleep, and it's not working at all. Better find a way to get it out of your system somehow; you need a shoulder to cry on.
08 • ANGER. You are just... fuming. Who knows why - that annoying dog is barking again, or maybe the people next door are getting busy and keeping you awake. Whatever the reason for your ire is, you'd better put an end to it so you can get some damn rest already! Go wake up a friend so you can complain to them.
09 • RESTLESS. You're far too energetic to sleep right now. Maybe you're just trying to do so out of necessity - you have to be up early tomorrow! But you just don't think you'll be able to fall asleep for a while now, so why waste the time trying to sleep when you could be doing something else? Namely bothering someone else - you're totally jealous because they're getting more sleep than you.
10 • WILDCARD. Choose one of the options above, or make up your own scenario.

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[ He manages the stairs on his own with considerably more grace, remembering to keep his weight primarily on the balls of his feet as Zevran had suggested.

Everything else he agrees with- though Josephine he thinks has made more strides in trying to understand than most- but the comment about Solas earns a look of surprise. ] You think so?

[ He cannot help but recall their first meeting, and Solas' contentious approach to the fact that the elf prisoner was Dalish. Though Solas is not a city elf, neither is he Dalish. Even Lasulahn, for all his respect of the man's knowledge and his fondness for him, cannot disagree that Solas seems to place himself above both, somehow. And some of the words exchanged among other party members... ]

Mm, I suppose you're right.

[ The downstairs hall is dusty but otherwise mostly clean of debris by now. Lasulahn glances around, and then turns to Zevran. ] Is this alright?

He is an elf with a superiority complex. Is that not strange to you? Were he Dalish, it would make sense, surviving and reclaiming your history gives solid ground for feeling somewhat superior to those of us trapped in the cities for various reasons- but he is no Dalish.

[ He is a scholar, a dreamer, an apostate-

And has quite convenient knowledge of the anchor, from what he has heard. Playing friendly won't be difficult, Zevran has done so his entire life, but he intends to keep an eye on Solas in the future. For everyone's sake.

Walking and talking, he leads Lasulahn to the center of the room before releasing his arm and walking backwards a distance of five or so feet, turning on his heel to get a better look at their environment. Not much to vault over but that they can handle elsewhere. Satisfied, he claps his hands together, bouncing on his toes. ]

Marvelous. So- keeping your weight on the balls of your feet, walk to me. Keep your eyes ahead and pretend you don't have the boots on at all- ah and here is the important question- are you wearing socks at all?

[ Zevran does have a point. It's not strange entirely; he has encountered city elves who feel that Dalish are wild and uncivilized, or that they have abandoned their brethren still solidly under the thumb of humans. And he knows Dalish that feel city elves abandoned their heritage for the sake of easier living, or that, as Zevran says, the Dalish have tried harder to keep their own history alive. But to feel superior over both was odd indeed.

He glances away, giving an uncomfortable and noncommittal 'mm' in response. When the conversation turns, he's grateful.

The elf crosses the room towards Zevran, trying to put his weight on the balls of his feet without walking on his toes. By the time he reaches his new friend, he feels quite silly about having to think so hard about simply walking. ] Oh- just the leggings I normally wear that go beneath the foot but leave the heels and toes bare.

You are going to get blisters if you don't have something more between your skin and the boot. Right along the sides of your feet and the back of your heel. Fortunately, I considered you may have nothing, so.

[ He pulls from a pouch at his waist a pair of socks, woolen and warm and knit of fairly fine yarn. Enough to protect without being so difficult to endure if one is not accustomed to such things. He offers them with a half-smile, shaking his head. ]

Trust me. You will want these. Leather, even soft and supple Antivan Leather? Has a bite to it.

Ah... Josephine might have mentioned that. [ Lasulahn sounds a little sheepish. He'd not cared for the idea of having anything extra on his feet, if he was already going to be wearing boots. Still, Zevran's words do make sense.

He accepts the pair with a 'thank you', and leans against one of the nearby pillars to pull off either boot and put on the socks. ]

You really are prepared with everything.

It pays to be prepared for anything, that way you can expect anything and survive it. Though there have been moments I wasn't entirely prepared for what needed doing, I learned to improvise.

[ Zevran rocks back on his heels, eyeing the dimensions of the room. Large enough to act as a stand-in for a grand hall, he can work with and around the stairs leading down once Lasulahn has gained confidence in the boots on a flat surface. ]

The trouble with improvising with a team, however, is on occasion things get thrown into the mix that would have you bust a gut laughing. Such as the tale I was sharing with Dorian earlier.

I would ask what I might be surviving, with a pair of socks but- [ His voice takes on an almost playful tone. ] The Game seems as appropriate an answer as demons or darkspawn. At least to me.

[ With the socks on under his boots now, his feet feel even more cramped, if only slightly. Though, as he walks back and forth experimentally, he can't ignore that it's easier to walk. His feet feel they slide less. ] Oh that is an improvement.

Demons, Darkspawn, various pompous human nobles, bears-

[ Don't ask about the bears. Please don't ask about the bears. ]

Do you not feel more secure? They are not meant to be worn without- this should help considerably. Once again, come to me. Don't worry about how you look, that will come later.

[ Like he would for a dance partner rather than for a child, Zevran extends his hand, brows lifted in patient expectation. ]

[ Lasulahn has had enough run-ins with bears to take that statement at face value. ]

It's even tighter, but yes, it does feel more secure.

[ He turns and approaches Zevran once again. It's a little easier to not overthink this time, but he does have to correct himself once, trying to put more weight on his heels. He extends his hand, too, and places it gently in Zevran's. ]

You're finding your stride already, excellent. I have a few tricks for breaking in the leather quickly and I will share these with you when we are finished, but for now? We are going to walk from one end to the other and back several times.

[ All while he has Lasulahn's hand and arm within reach, so if the Inquisitor does stumble? He will not hit the stone floor. Zevran waits for Lasulahn to ready himself before beginning to walk- and beginning to talk. ]

It works best when you do not think about it too deeply- and speaking of tales to be told I would be happy to share with you the beginning of what you walked in on when you found me with Dorian.

I'm trying, anyway. Yes, alright. [ He manages to keep his balance fairly well, as they walk back and forth. ]

Oh- yes. Dorian seemed to be enjoying that story very much. I apologize if I interrupted. I'll happily listen if you'd like to tell it again, though.

It is one of the more amusing and less bloody tales of the Blight- we were on a mission of political rescue when apprehended by a misguided but thoroughly loyal knight. Our options few, The Warden chose to surrender rather than let the moment come to bloodshed. While we and our political ally were released The Warden and Alistair were swept off to Fort Drakon, a highly secure establishment-

Or, well. So we thought.

You must imagine our merry band at the time- a Witch of the Wastes, a Mage of great power and age, A chantry Sister, a Mabari warhound, A dwarf berserker, a hornless Qunari Sten, a Golem- and my very handsome self. We had a few remain outside the tower to assist in a swift escape but opted to send two within to infiltrate and rescue our wayward wardens...

[ Back and forth, back and forth, at a steady pace while Lasulahn's posture seems to ease and the whole 'walking' thing becomes as instinctual as it normally might be. ]

I of course volunteer myself and assume they would send Leliana with me- two rogues to slip inside and make with the dashing rescue, yes? But in the event of discovery we thought it best to send a warrior with me. So, The Sten, The Dwarf, or the Dog.

[ Lasulahn listens with great interest, hand light around Zevran's arm. He watches the floor in front of him at first, with only glances towards his companion, but by the time Zevran pauses, the Inquisitor is only watching the other elf, eyes a little wide and head tilted in curiosity. He's a polite listener, quiet but attentive.

He recalls Zevran mentioning something about 'twins', and while he knows Mabari are renowned for their intelligence, they cannot speak. Either a dwarf or a qunari then, both options that cause Lasulahn to grin before Zevran has continued his tale. ] Which came with you, then?

[ Though he doesn't realize it, his steps have become much surer. It is different than his normal barefoot, and his feet complain for the constriction, but his mind is elsewhere at the moment. ]

The dwarf, Oghren. So to that end, we decided audacity would be the best way to move forward. We dressed in our finest silks- at least the finest that we could afford, and pretended to be an acrobatic duo meant to entertain the guards. It worked well enough at the gate, the actual guards to the inner chambers required some convincing.

It was Oghren's idea that we were to be brothers. Twins. And he said, And I quote- "I'm the pretty one".

[ Zevran huffs a quiet laugh, leaving Lasulahn for another turn around the room. ]

You can imagine how well that landed.

[ Lasulahn's brows loft animatedly in surprise, but he remains listening politely - though he can't help a delighted laugh at the idea of an elf and a dwarf being twins. He can only imagine himself and Varric trying such a stunt. As good a diplomat as Lasulahn is, there's surely no way he could manage to keep a straight face. ]

He would have to be very pretty indeed for that to be true.

[ It takes another two steps before the Inquisitor seems to realize what he's said. He startles slightly, and becomes quite focused on the floor in front of him once again - though the color of his cheeks hardly belies his embarrassment. ]

[ Zevran's laugh is high and bright, a far call from the earlier low, rolling, sultry chuckle he often puts on- for there is no need to put anything on for Lasulahn. Not truly. His nose even wrinkles with a faint snort as he shakes his head, utterly delighted. ]

Ah- no, he was hardly pretty. Handsome enough for a dwarf I suppose, solid, but pretty is not a word I would use for him. They did not quite buy the ploy and we had to fight our way to rescuing the Warden and Alistair. It was very dashing.

[ Zevran's laugh is charming and something flutters beneath his sternum for the reaction, light and pleasant. It's enough to draw him from his own abashment, and he looks up once again. ]

A good effort, nonetheless. It's quite the story. [ He smiles brightly for the thought. As they approach the far wall once more, the elf hums thoughtfully. ] I think I've got a grasp on this, now.

There are many other such anecdotes that I do not think get told as often as others- mostly due to us swearing to never, ever speak of them again.

[ Zevran crackles down to a faint chuckle, patting Lasulahn's than as he steps free. ] You have now mastered walking. It is time to jog.

[ Which Zevran begins to do toward the other wall, motioning for the Inquisitor to follow. ]

[ Lasulahn wonders if he will still know the others, after all this is done. He wonders if there will be tales that the Inner Circle swears to never speak of. ] I can only imagine.

[ Surprise registers in the next instant. ] I- oh! [ He follows in a jog, mindful of the slip of sole on stone, and manages... mostly well enough. Lasulahn is sure he hardly looks graceful. ] I didn't expect to be doing exercises. [ Though the thought prompts a light puff of laughter. ]

You'll likely be dancing, dueling, and running for your life at least once; you may as well have a solid grasp of everything. I do not mean to have you climbing sheer walls just yet-

[ He crackles a warm laugh, pulling away so he could better watch the placement of Lasulahn's feet, watching for potential slips, rolled ankles- which are the worst possible misstep an elf can make, or other problems. ]

But perhaps within a month or so I will have you as agile as I.

[ Lasulahn cannot expect that Empress Celene's ball will go well, but the idea of dueling and running for his life in shemlen clothes and boots elicits the slightest wrinkle of his nose. Though, maybe that was preferable to Orlesian politics. (The idea that he must suffer both in one evening...) ]

I can manage trees, normally, but walls are something else. [ There's humor in his tone, though, mouth curled at the edges for the idea of trying to scramble up walls. Zevran is quite graceful as such a feat, Lasulahn imagines, the very image of a dashing assassin protagonist in one of the romance novels he enjoys so much.

He tries not to think overmuch of that comparison, as enamored as he already is with the rogue. (Though he thinks it to be a harmless crush that will go nowhere, as his infatuations ever have. He is Inquisitor, and imagines Zevran has far better things to do with his time.)

Another soft laugh, self-deprecating though good natured all the same. ] As capable a teacher as I imagine you are, I can't think that I would be capable of being so agile as you.

I'll settle for not making a fool of myself, though.

[ Lasulahn feels clumsy, though is mindful that he doesn't slip. He does find that he can jog at least without having to pay too much attention. Dancing, the steps for which he is unfamiliar in either case, will not go so smoothly, he thinks. ]

The trick is to find the old patches where water and ivy have grown through, the grout often is loose enough to wedge a toe in. It is part of the reason many Antivan boots have a point at the toe. And do not knock appearing the fool- that can be quite useful at times. There is nothing more dangerous and more helpful to an elf than to be underestimated. They see you trip and think, ah, what danger could they be, and when they turn their back- you slide a dagger into their kidney! Marvelous fun.

[ It's not exactly an easy or comfortable trick but- it helps assassins get about. One day a noble will grow wise and paste over all the brick in their manor with stucco and that will buy them, perhaps, a little more time before the Crows come for them.

Zevran pivots on one booted heel, jogging to the end of the room, waiting for Lasulahn to make it across before nodding, motioning for him to sit on one of the boulders propped against the wall. ]

I know it feels as though you have not done much but- trust me. We ought to take a moment to rest. Nothing is pinching or rubbing your feet needlessly, yes? Even the smallest blister can become a problem if not properly tended to if you are unaccustomed to footwear.

[ The look on Lasulahn's expression suggests he's not entirely sure whether he should be amused or horrified at the thought Zevran's words conjure. He thinks of Leliana and Josephine's conversations about the Game, and bards, specifically. Appear harmless, to be all the more effective.

Lasulahn considers both that and Zevran's advice, and thinks that while playing the fool would do him no favors as Inquisitor - rumors that he is incompetent or bumbling would be damaging, after all - the idea that he might instead play just a little into other stereotypes might serve him well. He is not a dishonest sort, the Inquisitor, but he knows diplomacy. The Game is new to him, but humans and their bigotry, whether implicit or explicit, are not.

He turns, following Zevran back in a jog, and though his halt is not quite so... smooth as he would like, skidding just a bit on the worn stone, he manages. Though Zevran might suggest they have not done much, and Lasulahn is inclined to agree, he is nonetheless grateful for the chance to sit. (He will be more grateful for the opportunity to remove these wretched boots.) ]

They are uncomfortable, but... nowhere more than another. They are well-made. [ He crosses one ankle over his knee, and rubs idly at the soft leather covering his foot. ]

Mhmm. I think, perhaps, we have done enough for the day. This is not something one jumps into quickly after a lifetime of not. Any soreness you feel will be treated by the cold of Skyhold and we can come back a this tomorrow.

[ They've time enough before they are expected in the Winter palace, plenty to help Lasulahn adjust to so great a difference. Having experienced scraped heels, sore ankles, and pinched toes from ill-fitting boots in his youth has Zevran slightly more cautious with the Inquisitor than most.

Knowing full well Leliana might kill him for breaking Lasulahn in some way remains plenty of motivation for treading lightly. ]

I think I may have some spare oil for softening the leather, it will make adjusting to them a little bit easier. For now I am confident that you will be able to strut with the best of them!

[ Despite the uncomfortable shoes, Lasulahn finds himself a little disappointed, though he keeps such thoughts to himself. If he was to be honest, he had looked forward to the idea of Zevran teaching him to dance. Though, spending time with him has made for a pleasant morning nonetheless. Besides, the rogue almost certainly has things to attend to. Lasulahn knows that he, as Inquisitor, does too. He cannot be selfish. ]

We are making for the Western Approach soon, but that won't be for a few days. [ He nods his confirmation, and offers a warm smile. ] Tomorrow, then.

[ Until then, he has reports to read, and meetings to attend. Cullen and Josephine had also suggested he see to some of the repairs being done to Skyhold, and whether they were to his liking. Lasulahn finds that in particular somewhat odd, as though Skyhold is his, to do with what he will. Sometimes the smallest aspects of the title 'Inquisitor' are the most difficult to truly grasp.

Lasulahn stands, tamping his heel lightly against the floor as though to readjust the position of the boot. He smiles again, warm and gentle. ] It means a great deal, you doing this. Thank you, Zevran.

beautiful.

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