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Drabble Age

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Sunlight streamed into the room, gently warming the blanket and sheets and the figure tangled in them. Iseran stretched lazily, like a content cat, enjoying the small moment of peace and warmth as the blanket wrapped even tighter around his lithe body and the late morning sun made his dark red hair shine even brighter.

It would be a good day, he decided. No missions, no quests, maybe a little training if he could convince Solas, or maybe he would just go to the library and read some more. He knew he should be more diligent, but considering that in the past few weeks he had helped to build dragon traps in the desert and fought more Venatori than he cared to count, Iseran was positive he was allowed at least a day of calm and quite.

That was until he opened his eyes.

Right next to his head, on top of the pillow sat a spider. A big one. Surely, it was not as big as its brethren in some of the caves he had found with the Inquisitor and their companions, but still a big one, at least as big as his hand.

The thing was black and hairy with eight legs and just as many eyes and panic rose in Iseran’s chest. He honestly couldn’t even remember screaming but the next thing he knew was that he was on the floor, a tangle of limbs and blankets and a servant storming into his quarters.

“Master Tasefa! Are you alright?”

“S- Sp- Spider!” He stuttered out scrambling away from the bed as well as he could while frantically pointing to the beast still perched on the pillow.

The servant, a young elf with pitch black hair, seemed to jump slightly back as he looked at the hairy monstrosity before he blinked in mild surprise.

Without any hesitation the servant walked towards the bed, ignoring Iseran’s stuttered warnings and pleas of ‘please, don’t let that thing closer’. When he stood in front of the bed, he started laughing while simply grabbing the spider, making the mage shudder in fear and disgust.

Just how could he simply touch that thing?

The servant turned to look at Iseran with an almost teasing grin.

“Don’t worry, Master Tasefa! It’s not a real spider, see?” He said as he held out his hand, making the other reel back. But indeed. The spider did not move. Not even the slightest bit. Pitifully it hung in the air as the servant held it up on one of its (still) very hairy legs.

His grin spread further.

“Seems like someone played a prank on you, hehe. I could get it out, if you like?”

Iseran, whose face had taken a dark reddish color- because of embarrassment or anger was hard to say- nodded.

“Please do- do that, I don-don- do not want that… that thing in my chamb- ber,” he still glared at the toy spider when he muttered, “Now ex- excu… excuse me, I have- I have something to- t- to do.”

With a few expert movements, he untangled himself from the sheets, pulled his hair into an untidy braid that hung heavy over his right should, covering his ear and left the room and the servant behind, not even bothering with dressing properly.

As soon as he had stepped outside and more or less slammed the door behind him the servant could hear him shouting: “SERA! Creators help me, if- if I find- d you I will kill you! Conse- consequen-quences be damned!”

And that was the end of Iseran’s plans of having a calm day.