A dark space, lit with eerie green light. In front, four hovering pictures. Soft, instrumental music.
And two women, unconscious, in front of them.
Merrill gasps in dismay. "Anders isn't racist! He's...a little ignorant, but he's always willing to correct himself!"
Anya rolls her eyes and bumps Tabs with her hip. "Stop flirting with the man. He isn't even here to flirt back."
"Oh, did I miss something dirty? I always miss dirty jokes. Sometimes I'd quite like to hear them."
"Don't actually take our dirtiness into your vocabulary. You will make NO friends. You'll probably lose them. We're terrible."
Merrill reaches out to loop her arm with Anya's. "I would have you two, and Isabela, and Hawke, and Varric. More than enough friends for anyone."
"That is quite a handful." She squeezes her arm. "You're really great. Thank you so much for everything."
Merrill blushes a deep, deep red, and giggles. "Oh, it's nothing, really. Teaching is a far nicer way to help than fighting, anyway."
Merrill giggles a little more, ducking her head.
Once they're in the city, heading towards the Alienage, she points out the stairs to Darktown, and then with a wave, heads home.
"I suppose calling it 'the slums' wouldn't be fantasy enough though. At least there's not rakghouls in this Undercity."
"I think that's further down. Like this bit is the hub world, kind of thing. But yeah. Demons. Oh! And lyrium smugglers."
"Don't worry, you're all good. Mages can't get addicted, it's just non-magicky folks. I won't be taking any. No Templar powers are worth losing what's left of my mind."
"Lyrium's kinda...mana. In solid form. The Titans- you remember that truly awful Inquisition DLC, right?"
She scrunches her nose. "Wild. This is so fucking weird. I'm so glad you're such a huge nerd."