#also some of my fav HCs about dwarves being less modest and wearing thin or little clothing bc it's just too fucking hot down there

[undead-potatoes]

By the time of Veilguard, Ronnie has been living on the surface for the better part of 2 decades, and she for the most part don't regret leaving or wish to go back to her old life in Orzammar.

But sometimes she gets so very, very homesick.

She misses the food, the smells of richly spiced dwarven delicacies and whole roast nug drifting from kitchens and food stalls all across the Diamond Quarter. She misses the buzz and energy of a provings crowd, their cheers reverberating through stone halls and high ceilings. And she misses the Orzammar fashions, whisper thin fabrics and sheer dresses flowing around you as you move to keep the radiating heat from the lava pools at bay.

But most of all, despite all their animosity, she misses her family. To sit in her mother's parlor, drinking tea and listening to the older women gossip amongst each other. Training with her Auntie, who despite not being able to speak, made it so clear how proud she was of her. Hanging out in the library with her father, being instilled with a deep love for dwarven history by her father's own enthusiasm for it. And the one she misses the most, the one that was the hardest to leave behind, is her old nanny, the closest thing she had to an emotionally available parental figure growing up.

She thinks about them, about what they're doing, if they're well and alive, if they miss her like she misses them? And all she can do is take a deep breath to steel herself, for she knows these are the echoes of a life she can never return to.