#actsofmercy

[natetheantiquarian]

Good King Wenceslas

Good King Wenceslas 

[merrillvaskirkwall-blog]

Tug o’ War: A Series of Drabbles [Merrill & Cullen]

It had been a trying few weeks since Merrill had moved out of the city.  Not only was she finding that it was hard to keep up with what belongings she had kept in which of her dig sites, some of her belongings had just disappeared.  The random lootings and attacks at several of her digs and driven her to even inquire back with Marethari for shelter, but she was met again with the same ultimatum as before.  “You are welcome here Da’len, but you must stop your foolish quest with your magic and the Eluvian.  What you are playing with, you do not fully understand.”  With a sigh, Merrill had declined once more and returned to the site nearest Swiftrunner’s territory.

He seemed to tolerate her presence so near to his territory fairly well, considering his normal tendencies, and she found herself feeling a little more protected simply from proximity; though she doubted that if there was trouble he would even be around to intervene.  Today, however, she had decided to make a run to Petals, Leaves, and Pages to sell of her weekly stock of herbs.  Now that she was living in the wilds, she had more free time to devote to acquiring the rarer herbs and checking the locations that they grew.  Thus, her bags had become filled more easily and she always had a few extra herbs that Neria had no requested.

She enjoyed dealing with Neria.  There were never any qualms about pricing, and the garden was a peaceful sanctuary these days; one where she could rest and relax without worrying about being discovered by Cullen or worried about being attacked.  She had begun taking Neria up on her original offer to read books whenever she came to sell herbs as well.  So, it had become one of her happier days.

So, with herbs fully secured within her bag, she began her approach to the city.  It was one she had taken many times and still did for her weekly classes, but today a shadow seemed to hang over everything.  This was the first time in a few weeks that she had actually braved nearing the alienage or the docks to reach the shop and actually sell herbs.  And the prospect of venturing into the city for anything other than school seemed to cause her heart to race and breath to catch in her throat.  The only person she really felt safe wandering the city with was Carver.

Inhaling a deep breath to settle her anxiety, she meandered the streets, slipping through the crowds until she reached the side street where the store was located.  Something unexpected caught her eye though today.  It was definitely a Templar rounding the corner heading towards the shop.  Silently she crept through the crowd reaching the end of the street to peak around just as he disappeared through the door.

Cullen?  Her thoughts rushed through their last meeting that felt as though it had happened yesterday.  A cool chill ran down her spine.  Had she gotten Neria in trouble by mentioning her store to him that day?  Fretting about it, she tucked herself away in one of the shadowed alleys to watch and see if she really had seen him go into the store.  As first and hour went past and then another, she was beginning to believe she had dreamed the entire scene.

But as she peered out at the door, she spied him standing there about to exit.  Swiftly ducking back behind some stacked crates, she watched as he exited the street package in hand.  Silencing her worried thoughts, she managed to enter the store herself and head to her normal drop off area for the herbs.  Neria was nowhere to be found in the immediate vicinity, so she left the herbs on the backroom table and mentioned to Sereda that she had left them there.

As an aside to the dwarf, she asked about the Templar that was just here inquiring about any trouble that the store might be in.  But, thankfully, she confirmed that there was none.  He had been there solely to pick up the package.  Today she wouldn’t be staying at the store, and she wasn’t certain that she would be staying there again knowing that Cullen shopped there.  The security that the place offered had quickly soured into just another trap waiting to be sprung about her.

Tears began to fill her eyes and before she could start to cry, she excused herself letting Sereda know that she would be back next week as per usual, apologizing swiftly for her absence the past few.  Ducking quickly out of the store she was unaware of the eyes that watched her as she swiftly paced towards the exit to the city dabbing her eyes as she went.  The city was no place for her especially not with the threat of the Gallows hanging over her head.  It took everything she had to walk instead of run back out to the forested digs and their relative security.

But, as she reached the edge of the road and hit the grass and brush covered land, she did break her walk and run full bore through the trees trying to escape the threat she felt looming over her head.  She would never be able to see the city in the same light ever again.  Though, she did have help from those that dwelled within the walls to move about it quietly should she require it.  Sometimes, however, it was not enough to know that there were people willing to aid her inside the city when the freedom of the forests surrounded her.

Pausing under the shadowed canopy, she  climbed up one of the sturdier trees and leaned back against the trunk closing her eyes and imaging things as they once were before her world started falling apart; back when Tamlen still climbed the trees with her and Keita ten steps ahead.   Though, the one that penetrated through them all was still his cool eyes.  The slightly hardened ones that had stared down at her and the voice that still echoed through her head. 

You should never have let me in…

The hardest part wasn’t that he was a Templar doing his duty.  The hardest part was that he had been her friend, one of the first in the city.  But, he had walked away and not looked back.  And it hurt.  More than she cared to remember.  Burying herself beneath all the other thoughts she could muster, she forced herself into a dreamless slumber in the swaying branches of the forest; an attempt to forget the day that had just happened and wake to a new one where things were different again.

[spitfireanddiplomacy]

Enemies Among Us Part I [Carver | Cullen | Marian]

It was early morning when Marian went to check the mailbox.  It had been sometime since they’d actually had a pile of mail sitting on the table to be gone through, so she expected the mounds of junk mail and pile of unpaid bills.  With a sigh she wrangled the mass back up to the apartment and sat down in the chair across from Carver’s still sleeping form.  Sometimes it was nice to just sit and watch him sleep since she didn’t seem to be getting much of her own lately.  Quietly she thumbed through the mail sorting out junk and bills, more junk and more bills.

Amongst the junk there was a strange letter addressed to Hawke.  Blinking, she sat that aside and finished going through the bills calculating all the necessary funds that they would need in order to make ends-meat that month.  It was unsurprising to her when the total amount ended up higher than what she knew to be within their accounts.  Sighing softly, she decided to do something useful, like make Carver breakfast.

She pulled out some old dough from the fridge that had been made sometime that last week, and cut off a few pieces to put on a pan while the over was preheating.  Dropping some butter into a pan to let it melt, she slipped the dough into the over setting a time for 8 minutes, then went about tending to the roux.  She added some flour and then reached for the milk, doing the same with the flour until she felt she had added the proper amount.  Slipping the milk back in the fridge, she grabbed a pork bouillon cube and added it to the mixture before grabbing a spatula and stirring constantly.

When the timer chimed, she quickly snapped it off and grabbed a dish towel to pull the biscuits out of the oven.  Quickly letting it slip to the other side of the stove while her other hand continued its circuitous motion around the gravy pan.  When it thickened to the point of being creamed, she removed the pan from the heat stirring a few more times for good measure.  With all the noise she was making, Carver still hadn’t budged an inch from the couch bed.  Chuckling to herself, she crossed the room and nudged him awake.  “Made you breakfast, get up and have some.”  She tousled his hair and planted a quick kiss on his cheek before dropping back down into the chair.

Picking the letter up from beside the chair where she had dropped it, she quickly sliced it open with her dagger and pulled out a single note.  It read:

Hawke,

Heard you were looking for work.  I can pay and have a task.  Meet me at the Chantry any time this week.

Macha

It was short and to the point.  With the figures still dancing through her head pertaining to the bills, she flipped the note back and forth between her fingers.  It didn’t take her long to figure out she was going to see what the note was at least about, and she’d take Carver with her just in case.  Garrett was busy with his normal work routine, or if not, he was at one of his other jobs that he took on the side.  This was a chance for her and Carver to make a little extra money for the family.

“Get ready after you eat, Carver.  It seems we’ve got work to do.”  Heading towards the bedroom, she grabbed a change of clothes and headed for the bathroom for a quick shower and change.

[merrillvaskirkwall-blog]

Sleepy Hallow, Thirteen Ghosts (or any other you like better. :) )

((A bit sad, but it’s the best I could come up with))

Thirteen Ghosts:

Merrill had been called in to authenticate several old relics within the house, and Cullen had been assigned to watch over the mage who was supposed to be obtaining the house.  Unfortunately, the will had not informed anyone that as soon as there were twelve people within the house, the doors would lock shut behind them.

Deciding to split into teams of three, Merrill chose to stay in the company of Cullen and the mage he was escorting.  It was only then that the greater demons that roamed the house started to appear slowly, hour by hour.

One by one the parties were over taken, and one by one Cullen and the mage defeated the demons thrown at them.  Everything was going fine until the pride demon showed up unexpectedly.  It whirled and thundered injuring Cullen and killing his mage, but at the end of it.  The two of them still remained.

The final room proved to be a spinning artifact whose blades were sharp as knives and could slice through human flesh, if the body parts strewn throughout the room had any say in the matter.  The major problem was that the ring moved in a synchronized rhythm that was nearly impenetrable.

Leaving Cullen along the side of the room, Merrill studied the passage of the rings.  Watching, counting, and mapping their every movement.  With a very sad expression on her face, she bade Cullen to close his eyes, but he wouldn’t look away.  Turning inward, she tapped into the Elgarlin, her face glowing with power and her eyes stained red.  She refused to look at Cullen, perhaps he had no idea what she was doing.

Fitting her body into the syncopated rhythm, she began a complicated dance through the rings.  Step, through, back, jump, forward, dive, spin step, jump, dive step, forward.  The movements seemed to take hours.  As she reached the center of the spinning ball of death, she pressed the only button to lock the ghosts away and release the locking mechanisms of the house.

As her sad blood red face turned to look at Cullen, the slices of her body that had not successfully completed the dance started to fall away.  “Perhaps it is better this way,” were her last thoughts before the remnants of her body collapsed to the floor, the sustaining blood energies dissipating.  But, at least she had bought Cullen’s freedom.

[merrillvaskirkwall-blog]

The airplane.

It was just another day in the alienage, but to her, it was a very special occasion. She was awaiting the arrival of Cullen, her new friend. This was the first time he had ever been inside her apartment, and she had splurged a bit. There was a scented candle on the small table, a music stand with her lyre, ready and waiting, and a slice of carrot cake that she had conned Neria into letting her make in her kitchen. It had taken up this entire weeks wages just to get together the ingredients to make it, but thankfully with step by step instructions and Neria’s assistance, it turned out perfectly.

She heard the knock on the door, and allowed him inside. There really wasn’t a lot of space for two people in her apartment, but it was the best she could do. She smiled and bade him sit and try the cake, which he did with as much grace as anyone could. After complimenting her cooking, she played a little tune for him that she had just begun to write, so it was incomplete. She only had one chair, so when she laid the lyre on the bed, she walked over and sat on one of his legs instead. They chatted about the song, the cake, and before Merrill realized it she had her lips pressed tightly upon his.

“What the hell are you doing Merrill?” She thought to herself, but unlike normal, she ignored it. Her kisses continued splaying across his face. He had become such a good friend that she had forgotten he was really a Templar still, especially out of uniform as he was now. She finally managed to pull her lips from his, and moved back to the bed blushing furiously. “I’m sorry… I really have no idea what came over me.”

[merrillvaskirkwall-blog]

The peace sign (living space) and the spade (cooking). Sorry for no spiffy symbols.

☮: Currently, I'm living in a shoebox of an apartment in the Alienage.  It is rife with theft and there are paper thin walls that don't leave much to the imagination.  I haven't been here long enough, but there are rumors from my neighbors that it is sweltering in the summer and freezing in the winter.  I am lucky enough to have a 'study' area and a closet, most are stuck with one single room.  Thankfully, half the time I am sleeping at one of my dig sites underneath a tent of sorts or beneath the stars, though.  If I ever need to get away, that's where I tend to go, which is more than most can say.

♤: I'm actually a terrible cook.  The hunters in my clan decided long ago that I could not even touch the meat while it was drying.  I've gotten somewhat better as I have to eat while I'm not actually within walking distance of a city, but it's still pretty bad.  I tend to purchase dried provisions, or if I'm lucky enough, get to ask some of the clan.  On the other hand, I'm a master at finding herbs and spices, so if I'm with someone else that can cook, I can get them the seasonings for the meal.

[merrillvaskirkwall-blog]

The Tale of a Dalish Lyre [Merrill & Cullen]

Homesick, exiled, and broke, Merrill was in a somber mood.  Today was not a school day, and she lacked anything to do, but trudge through more ‘pointless research,’ or so the thoughts running through her head told her.  So, under the haze of the afternoon sun while sitting underneath the tree of the alienage, Merrill took her most precious possession out of its box, a Dalish lyre.

Listening to the sounds of the city with her eyes closed, her fingers slowly began to pluck the strings, before rolling out some simple scales and arpeggios.  The warm up, always necessary, was something that she liked to do without her eyes, allowing her ears to tell if the instrument needing tuning or not.  This was the one time Merrill felt that she was not clumsy, not out of her element.

An extremely strenuous chord started off her ballad and first verse.  Her thoughts drifted through her time in Fereldan, the loss of Tamlen, the leaving of Mahariel.  The tempo changed with the verse to become more staccato as she traced her thoughts through the travel of her clan, moving away from the Blight and the darkspawn.  Another verse change and the chords rolled underneath it telling of the crossing to Kirkwall, waves tossing the ship that they travelled upon, storms beating at the hull, sails torn lose flapping in the wind.  The final verse gentled as it told of the landing and settling of Sundermount.

Taking a deep breath, her fingers decided to stop playing there.  “End the ballad on a high note Merrill, don’t drift into your own exile.  You don’t need that right now. Don't finish it...”  She felt that if she opened her eyes it would break her concentration so she kept her eyes closed while her thoughts drifted over what she had just played, making mental notes of where key changes may have been appropriate or perhaps a stronger rhythm to keep things flowing more evenly.  With a slight nod of her head noting that her thought process had run its course, she rested the lyre on her lap and continued to lean against the tree; she couldn’t shake the feeling she was being watched.