Maryland Science Center, Baltimore, Wednesday Afternoon

[not_every_mage]

Anders knew dinosaurs and dragons were not the same thing.

For one thing, they were from completely different worlds. And for another, dinosaurs were actually extinct, not just biding their time high in the mountains. And Anders had never seen whole real dragon bones ... but there was a whole dinosaur skeleton rising up toward the ceiling here in the science museum, each tooth in its massive jaw bigger than his hand.

He gaped at it as he groped for Kathy's hand. There were plenty of non-dinosaur things to see in the museum, but it was going to take him a while to tear himself away from this one.

[OOC: For she who is there!]

Comments

[not_every_mage]

“For you?” Anders asked gallantly. “Of course there are demonstrations of the singing.”

Then, when he considered which songs he knew that Kathy didn’t: “But the Throatwarblers had a funny tradition. Their favorite songs were about ... dogs.”

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"I knew you loved me," Kathy said, clapping her hands in glee. "And of course they were. They're Ferelden aren't they?"

If there was one thing that Kathy had picked up over the years, it was that Ferelden was a land of dogs, mud, and, like, turnips.

[not_every_mage]

And giant spiders. And more mud.

“Right,” Anders nodded. “And like all good Fereldans, the Throatwarbler clan loves Mabari hounds almost as much as they love Andraste. Maybe a little more.”

He glanced around at the crowd. It seemed like the room was noisy enough to cover his singing.

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"I mean, who doesn't?" Kathy asked piously. "How many country songs are written about the relationship between a man and his dog and his god?"

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"I'm going to say a lot?" Anders ventured. "So I guess our worlds are more alike than I thought."

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"A fair number," Kathy agreed. "Fewer than a man, his dog, and his truck - and now I'm wondering how many Ferelden songs include their horses, too."

She nudged him. "Let's hear some of this golden throat warbling."

[not_every_mage]

"Can't distract you any longer, huh?" Anders asked, and pretended to sigh.

"All right. So Hortense Throatwarbler the first would open his golden throat and sing just like this."

"You know Andraste's old mabari.
He don't show up in the Chant.
And if you ask those holy sisters,
Well, they'll say Andraste can't
Have had some big old smelly wardog...."

He noticed a few people giving him wary looks, and ignored them. He'd pay the same admission fee as anyone else; he had every right to sing if he wanted to.

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Besides, the looks Kathy was giving him were far from wary. She was all sunshine and smiles, clutching her cheeks like a little kid at Christmas.

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Anders finished singing and -- when he noticed how rapt Kathy looked -- took a deep bow.

"And that was what the Throatwarblers all loved to sing."

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"That is...definitely a song," Kathy concluded, pulling him into a hug and offering him a kiss for his performance. "I can only imagine how moving that must have been for you to share it with me, Hortense. I'm honored."

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"Every time I think about that dog following Andraste right up to her funeral pyre, it gets me right in the gut," Anders agreed. "What can I say? I'm traditional that way. All us Hortenses are."

And then he returned her kiss, enjoying the warm tingle of their lips together.

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"Mmmmm..." Kathy said, wrapping her arms around his neck to keep the kiss going a little longer. "The real question is, Hortense, is how you ended up with two cats instead?"

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"They don't have Mabaris in Fandom," Anders answered, pressing his forehead against hers. "No other dogs could compare with their particular ... odor. And charm. It's a very smelly kind of charm. And since dogs were out, I turned to cats."

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It's probably the lack of mud," Kathy said sympathetically. "Without that thick, clingy, sticky mud you talk about, it's hard for dogs to work up that particular funk you clearly miss so much."

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“Especially since our mud is mixed with animal droppings,” Anders added. “That gives it that unforgettable tang that clings to my dreams.”

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"I'm sorry I don't love you enough to bring this dream to life," Kathy said, resting her hand on her heart in a show of sincerity. "Maybe sometime, we can take a trip out to a farm somewhere so you can live your olfactory best life. Maybe get some of that manual labor in you've been missing, too."

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"Actually, that'd be worth it just to see you and Dante try it," Anders said thoughtfully. "I doubt either of you have ever milked a cow or weeded a garden in your life. I could point and giggle."

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"Ha!" Kathy said, looking proud. "I have weeded a garden, so there!"

Pause. "In Korea."

Pause. "Once."

Pause. "I was seven."

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"One whole time, 15 years ago?" Anders checked. "I'm impressed. You'd have to give me lessons."

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"Hey now, fourteen years ago!" Kathy protested with a laugh. "I'm not yet twenty-one, stop trying to make me older!"

She considered it and then declared, "I'm sure I could still school you in the fine art of weeding, though."

Sure, Little Miss City Girl.

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"Right," Anders said, clearly unimpressed. "I did it ... almost every day every summer of my life until I was 12, but I'm sure you have all the details down from that one time."

He tilted his head to the side. "Though that does remind me to ask what you want for your birthday. It's not all that long from now."

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"I'm a fast learner," Kathy insisted, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "I'd weed that...row...so fast your head would spin."

That was the correct jargon, right? Sounded right.

"And...okay, asking the hard questions now," Kathy said. "All the things I can think of are, like...really big. Feel-jerky-for-asking big."

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"Try me," Anders said lightly. "I might say no, but I promise I won't think you're a jerk just for asking."

Though now he was more curious than he'd been when he asked.

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"Well, one of the things I want is a kotatsu," Kathy said, reaching for her phone again to show him what they were. "It's like a table and a heater had a baby and put a blanket over it. I just get so cold in the winter, you know?"

Yes Kathy. Anders was probably very aware of how cold your feet got once it got below fifty degrees.

"Ooh, I guess a lot of other stuff in that vein. Thick fuzzy socks, heavy slippers, flannel pajamas, and extra throw blankets are probably all good."

Stuff to keep her warm, since her primary heat sources were gonna be far away this winter.

[not_every_mage]

"Things to keep you warm on cold winter nights," Anders repeated. "I think I can manage that. And it's the opposite of jerky. I was ready for 'a pony and also a diamond tiara lined with mink.'"