WIP Wednesday (?)
Thank you for the tag @varric-tethras-editor!
This is from the next chapter of my DA:I 1930′s murder mystery AU (which I am well aware is an offensively absurd concept but I have nothing else to offer) + an art WIP. I’m also kantrips on AO3 if you want to have a gander at the first three chapters!
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“I didn’t think…” Cullen trailed off.
Evelyn let out a derisive sound and began to work at the tight lid of the piccalilli jar. “No. You didn’t.” Her voice was strained as she began to struggle with the jar, her nose scrunching with the effort. “I used to think you understood me best of anyone but recently I’m beginning to feel like you don’t know me at all.”
“You’re shutting me out.”
“And you’re assuming the worst,” she told him, voice increasingly faint from the effort, but the lid wouldn’t budge.
Growing agitated watching her, Cullen reached for the jar. “Give it to me.”
She twisted away from him. “No!”
“For Andraste’s sake Evelyn, stop being stubborn and let me do it.”
Evelyn gave the lid a final wrench and it popped off. A shared moment of surprise disrupted both of their mounting animosity, but only fleetingly before they remembered themselves and it descended once more in full force. Evelyn glared at his still outstretched hand. Cullen retracted it. “I don’t need anything from you.”
“You’ve misunderstood my intentions,” Cullen rationalised, desperate to get the conversation back on track and making a concerted effort to keep his voice even.
“So I’m in the wrong again? Good to know.”
He let out an incomprehensible noise of frustration. “That’s not fair.”
“It’s like I’ve always said: you’re the only one I can rely on to tell me the truth, Cullen,” she said his name like a curse and with enough venom to make him wince. “I’m glad to know what you really think of me,” Evelyn continued, voice still brittle as she began spooning dollops of what seemed like far too much piccalilli onto the waiting slices of bread.
“Evelyn…” Cullen began, but he didn’t know what he wanted to say. He finally opted for an admittedly unwise, “Don’t overreact,” and the look she gave him in return might have made a weaker man turn and flee.
“To being called callous?” She let out a scoff. “Next you’ll accuse me of killing her.” Cullen was silent for a moment and it was a moment too long. Evelyn’s posture went rigid and she turned slowly to him, not angry now, just dismayed, still clutching the spoon in one hand and the jar in the other. “Oh Maker, I really am a suspect.”
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Bonus related art WIP (and by WIP I mean I’ll never finish it):
Thank you if you read this far! I’m already late with this so if anyone else wants to be late with me please feel free to consider yourself tagged!