The Amell Legacy: Transgressions

[Marian Hawke]

"Sure, be right back."

When she returns a few moments later, she brings a journal, plus a couple pairs of trousers so she can start working as he translates. She opens to the page of text, putting the book in front of him as he tries to finish feeding the baby, then sits cross-legged nearby and begins stitching up the messy slit in the crotch of her trousers. 

[Varric]

And he's fussing again! Just-- Varric blinks, looking up, then down. "Little bugger," he gripes, eyes wide.

[Marian Hawke]

"Hmm?" asks Marian, threading the needle. 

[Varric]

"Come over here for a moment?" Varric says, tone amused now. When Marian obliges, Ricky pushes the bottle away and awkwardly flails his hands towards her with a happy gurgle.

[Marian Hawke]

"Aww, bitty baby!" she coos, reaching to pick him up and bounce him a little. "Bitty baby misses me, does bitty baby?"

[Varric]

Ricky gurgles again, trying to reach for her face. Varric laughs, shaking his head slowly. "Have to test with Haliel or Isabela, but I think young Ricky here has a bit of a preference."

[Marian Hawke]

Marian lifts Ricky, letting him grab at her face. "Ah boo boo," she giggles. "What a good boy!"

[Varric]

He happily stuffs a clump of her hair in his mouth and starts gumming away. "You're a natural with him," Varric says, voice softer than he'd ever admit to using.

[Marian Hawke]

"I love children," she sing-songs. "Such a cute bitty little baby."

[Varric]

Varric watches for a moment, completely not smiling sappily, before he hands over the bottle so he can skim over the writings.

[Marian Hawke]

She takes the bottle, setting about coaxing him to take it while he reads.

[Varric]

Well, shite. Varric doesn't have to actually read a single word to know this isn't good. Infernal. I don't think Marian knows (knew?) Infernal. Shite. He glances up, the adorable sight of Ricky contented sucking on the bottle as he grips a strand of Marian's hair as tightly as an infant can unable to completely warm him as it was. "Goes right to it with you," he comments as he mulls over the writings. Sirena's holy text. Or, well, parts of it. Jumbled, fractured in places and even wrong in others (would totally piss Her off something fierce). 

[Marian Hawke]

"Bitty itty witty thing," coos Marian. "Any luck?" It takes a moment to realize she's talking to him, not the baby.

[Varric]

"Luck is a word, sure. It's Infernal. Religious dogma. Not well written admittedly."

[Marian Hawke]

"I don't speak Infernal," she says, hesitantly. "How did I...?"