The Amell Legacy: Transgressions

[Marian Hawke]

"Can you do the opposite? For wakefulness?"

[Varric]

Varric lifts a hand and wiggles it. "Yes and sort of. For the low, low price of three hundred gold, I can put a night's sleep in a bottle. Or I can make you a bottle of super-tea for a couple of gold that will make a zombie bright eyed and hyper for about an hour, then magically add fifty pounds to every part of your body while stuffing your brain with cotton and sand until you crash." Or I could make super-tea that needs to brew, seep and rest for a fortnight that only costs two or three copper but ain't nobody got time for that sort of shit.

[Marian Hawke]

She winces. "yeah alright, sleep it is." 

She hesitates, then asks, "can you... teach me? I mean, I don't have magic or anything but I did a little alchemy in school. Basic dyes, pastes, defoliants, and so on."

[Varric]

The dwarf studies Marian for a moment, then slowly smiles. "Yeah. Yeah that actually sounds pretty good. Haven't brewed with anyone since..." His smile wavers for a second before he blanks the pang. "Gods, decade or two I think. You have the right sort of mind for it."

[Marian Hawke]

Marian notes the waver -- she can't not, she stores up tidbits to use when people turn on her later -- but she doesn't comment. "Alright, then. Let's get--"

She's interrupted by a knock, and for a few moments they busy themselves sorting out food. She leaves him the desk, sitting on his bed with her plate and digging in. That's one of the nice things about being a teenager -- she can always eat, and she puts away food like nobody's business, despite rarely seeming to gain weight. Perks of being an elf, too.

[Varric]

Varric takes a few minutes to tidy up his desk, the fastidious dwarf not wanting to get stew or ale on his papers. So Marian is nearly a third done her stew before Varric lifts the first spoonful up to his mouth- and pauses. Wait, that smell... "Marian, stop!" he barks out, jumping out of his seat to grab his toolkit.

[Marian Hawke]

Marian drops her spoon, looking up at him. What's wrong with -- aw hell. That doesn't taste right, does it? 

She blinks a few times, eyes going distant, but doesn't otherwise pale or keel over. Yup. Definitely poisoned. My poor stomach is churning.

[Varric]

Varric curses mentally as he starts rooting around in his kit. "What are you feeling?" he barks.

[Marian Hawke]

"Stomach hurts," she grunts. "Dammit. I'll be okay, but you shouldn't eat any of it."

[Varric]

Varric rolls his eyes a bit. "Probably wouldn't hurt me either- who the fuck tries to poison a dwarf alchemist- but yeah, not planning on it. What else, besides your stomach?" Finding the vial he wants, the tosses it at her. "Drink."

[Marian Hawke]

"Just that." She takes the vial, hands shaking a bit as she uncorks and downs it. "I'm fine. Probably in for a rough evening is all."

[Varric]

Varric turns to look at her carefully, then grunts. "Done some toxin conditioning?" he hazards. 

[Marian Hawke]

"Not... intentionally," she admits. 

[Varric]

Varric snorts. "Ah yes, step zero for alchemical training. Not die despite yourself. Stomach any better? Any burning or coldness?"

[Marian Hawke]

"No burning or cold. Um... a little better, yes," she admits, after focusing for a second.