Once a little boy went to school.
One morning
The teacher said:
“Today we are going to make a picture.”
“Good!” thought the little boy.
He liked to make all kinds;
Lions and tigers,
Chickens and cows,
Trains and boats;
And he took out his box of crayons
And began to draw.
But the teacher said, “Wait!”
“It is not time to begin!”
And she waited until everyone looked ready.
“Now,” said the teacher,
“We are going to make flowers.”
“Good!” thought the little boy,
He liked to make beautiful ones
With his pink and orange and blue crayons.
But the teacher said “Wait!”
“And I will show you how.”
And it was red, with a green stem.
“There,” said the teacher,
“Now you may begin.”
The little boy looked at his teacher’s flower
Then he looked at his own flower.
He liked his flower better than the teacher’s
But he did not say this.
He just turned his paper over,
And made a flower like the teacher’s.
It was red, with a green stem.
On another day
The teacher said:
“Today we are going to make something with clay.”
“Good!” thought the little boy;
He liked clay.
He could make all kinds of things with clay:
Snakes and snowmen,
Elephants and mice,
Cars and trucks
And he began to pull and pinch
His ball of clay.
But the teacher said, “Wait!”
“It is not time to begin!”
And she waited until everyone looked ready.
“Now,” said the teacher,
“We are going to make a dish.”
“Good!” thought the little boy,
He liked to make dishes.
And he began to make some
That were all shapes and sizes.
But the teacher said “Wait!”
“And I will show you how.”
And she showed everyone how to make
One deep dish.
“There,” said the teacher,
“Now you may begin.”
The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish;
Then he looked at his own.
He liked his better than the teacher’s
But he did not say this.
He just rolled his clay into a big ball again
And made a dish like the teacher’s.
It was a deep dish.
And pretty soon
The little boy learned to wait,
And to watch
And to make things just like the teacher.
And pretty soon
He didn’t make things of his own anymore.
Then it happened
That the little boy and his family
Moved to another house,
In another city,
And the little boy
Had to go to another school.
The teacher said:
“Today we are going to make a picture.”
“Good!” thought the little boy.
And he waited for the teacher
To tell what to do.
But the teacher didn’t say anything.
She just walked around the room.
When she came to the little boy
She asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?”
“Yes,” said the little boy.
“What are we going to make?”
“I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher.
“How shall I make it?” asked the little boy.
“Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher.
“And any color?” asked the little boy.
“Any color,” said the teacher.
And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.
I hate that I hesitated to reblog this just because I expect people to think it’s pretentious or melodramatic when it’s seriously real as fuck and I’ve witnessed it
Disclaimer: I do not consent to have my work translated or reposted to any other site. I only post under NomadicPixel, and only on Tumblr or A03. If you are under the age of 18, please do not read or interact with this post or my blog.
Author’s Note: My husband and I are big fans of DAO. We’ve both played it multiple times with multiple characters and classes. And since the first one of us played through, there has been a bit of an ongoing joke in the Pixel household. We always strip Jory and Daveth of their weapons and armour prior to the Joining (waste not, want not). Said husband challenged me to write a short story about why Jory and Daveth are in their smalls. This is the result. Any appreciation or complaints can be directed to @elcapitian.
“This is why the joining must remain a secret. The Wardens started this tradition when they came together in the first blight, and it remains a tradition now, even centuries later.”
Ser Jory pouted. “The more I hear about this joining, the less I like it.”
It was all Alistair could do not to laugh. Duncan’s new recruit, Annie, had Daveth and Ser Jory believing her entirely invented story about how the ritual would be taking place. Which was good, because they were more focused on the apparent dress code than the risk to their lives.
Daveth joked, “I don’t mind. Maybe it’s tradition, maybe they’re trying to annoy you. Maybe it’s their way of putting us new recruits in our place. If that is what they ask of us, that is what they shall receive from me. I have nothing to be ashamed of.”
Tilting her head to his direction, Annie deadpanned “What about your joining, Alistair? Didn’t you have to cast off your clothes as a representation of casting off your title and worldly desires?”
Alistair couldn’t help the blush that blossomed across his cheeks. Well, if she was going to involve him, he may as well have a little fun, himself. “Yes, I did. As did all the other Warden recruits. Even the women, Annie. Don’t think I’m going to let you out of this now.”
Her eyes glittered, with what he wasn’t sure. Annoyance? Betrayal? Myrth? Her eye twitched, before dropping her chin to her chest. “Okay, fine. If that’s how it has to be. We’ll all go to the joining in our smalls. Hope you’re strong enough to carry all our gear, Alistair. I’ll be wanting my family sword back afterwards.”
Daveth grinned lasciviously “Do you need help unlacing anything, m’lady? I’d be more than happy to assist.”
Alistair’s heart thumped with an unexpected pang of jealousy. Don’t get attached, you don’t know if either of them will survive yet.
Annie snorted derisively. “I do not require any assistance, especially from you and your sticky fingers, Daveth. Thank you so much for offering though.” She teased, shaking her head.
Five minutes later, Alistair led a procession of the three recruits into the old temple. Cutting his eyes to Duncan, he winked, eliciting a small confused smile from the Warden Commander.
Alistair called out “Duncan, as is tradition, these recruits have cast aside their clothing, to represent the sacrifices make when becoming a Warden.”
He took his place next to Duncan, and set the pile of backpacks, weapons and armor aside, and out of the way.
“Daveth, do you forsake any titles and worldly belongings, forswearing any other commitments? Do you swear an oath of fealty to the Grey Wardens of Ferelden?”
Daveth, in his sagging, stained smalls; strutted towards Duncan with all the confidence of an Arl’s first-born son. “I do.”
Duncan chimed in, “Jory, do you forsake any titles and worldly belongings, forswearing any other commitments? Do you give your oath of fealty to the Grey Wardens of Ferelden?”
Sir Jory lumbered forward, a small ponch of stomach hanging over his smalls, and came to a stop next to Daveth. “I… I do.”
Alistair reflexively darted his eyes to Annie. He was speechless. Her long firm legs lead up to a trim waist. The smalls were tied tight at her curvy hips, the lace breast band she wore was barely containing her ample bosom.
Duncan cleared this throat, and elbowed him.
“Annie, you forsake your right to the Terynir of Highever, to any and all titles and worldly belongings, forswearing any other commitments? Do you give your oath of fealty to the Grey Wardens of Ferelden?”
The youngest Cousland licked her lips, her shoulders back proudly lacking any shyness in this camp of men, she kept her gaze firmly on Alistair’s. “I do.”
“At last, we come to the Joining. The Grey Wardens were founded during the first blight, when humanity stood on the verge on annihilation. So it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood and mastered their taint.”
Jory gagged, staggering back. “We’re… we’re going to drink the blood of those… creatures?”
Duncan replied, impassive as ever. He’d learned long ago how to disengage his feelings when it came to the new recruits. The horrors of the joining would soon be over. “As the first Grey Wardens did before us. As we did before you. This is the source of our power. And our victory.”
Alistair placed a reassuring hand on Jory’s quivering shoulder. “Those who survive the joining become immune to the taint. We can sense it in the darkspawn, and use it to slay the Archdemon.”
Annie’s smirk melted away, her eyes widening in horror. “Those who…survive?” she whispered.
Duncan nodded. “Not all who drink the blood will survive and those who do are forever changed. This is why the joining is a secret.”
Daveth nodded, solemnly. “That and doing the joining in our skivvies, yeah?”
Duncan paused, blinked back the laughter bubbling up inside of him, and nodded. “Yes. This is the price we will pay. We speak only a few words prior to the joining. But these words have been said since the first. Alistair, if you would?
“Join us brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand, vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten and that one day…we shall join you.”
As I post this, I am already trying to decide if I need to write a second part of this story - because Alistair being stuck with a mostly naked Annie Cousland has FAFO vibes.
