Hey u guys, UrAtowel here! I'm a nerdy geek girl from good'ol germany that likes games (all kinds: boardgames, p&p, console, pc...). I'm interessted in all the stuff that makes my nerdy heart jump - paintings, writings, and so on. Therefore I recently started to write fanfiction myself to get all the fantasy swirling around in my mind out for everyone else as nerdy as me to enjoy it as much as I do....Anyways: My mind is a kaleidoscope full of colours and shapes...
The pleasantly warm late summer sun stood high on the cloudless azure horizon, casting a rich golden glow over the vast plains near Trevelyan Estate. A pleasantly refreshing breeze swept across the seemingly endless, flat expanses of the Free Marches. The wind brushed gently over the lush yellow fields. The long stalks of grain rustled and swayed in the gentle breeze, making them seem to ripple like the waves of the vast sea.
Mara relished the sight of her childhood home and took a deep, long breath of the sweet, warm summer air. A poem she had heard as a child came to mind.
"I sat there deep in the barley fields, I sat there deep with my beloved. My sad heart seemed to doubt whether we would stay together. Though it beat for him, it now beat faster for my homeland, and gently the wind blew through the valley, softly caressing the fields".
Yes, this was her home. Here she had been born, here she had spent her childhood. A little homesickness tingled in her chest, but Mara didn't want to spoil her beautiful memories - so she buried the sad feeling in a remote corner of her soul. One day, she would stand at this very spot behind her house and enjoy the same dreamy view.
Mara wandered through the fields of barley and wheat, gently running her hand over the waist-high golden plants, the grain stalks caressing her palm. The slight tickling brought a child's smile to her face. Looking off into the distance, Mara spotted an old, large wooden shed. She knew the building only too well. It was an old stable of rather simple but solid construction, used by her family to store hay and straw for the horses: The foundation was about three feet high and made of plain limestone. On top of this were windowless wooden walls made of palisades and planks. The partially rotten frame supported a patchy straw roof, which had to be replaced every year by the stable hands.
As children, Marcus and Mara often played here with abandon, or hid from Theodor when boring chores had to be done. They pretended that the old hayloft was their very own fortress and that they were noble knights defending their straw castle against imaginary dragons and monsters. They romped and laughed until they fell asleep on the heaps of straw. Those were happier and simpler times.
A sudden, intense pain gripped Mara, tightening her chest and making her heart beat faster, pounding against her ribs. A dark foreboding came over her, sending a cold shiver down her spine to the back of her neck. Mara felt the fine hairs on her neck and arms stand on end and goose bumps covered her entire body.
"Oh no. By the Maker, no! Not that! I don't want to see it, please. Anything but this day." Yet Mara's silent plea went unheard by the Spirits of the Void.
Unable to control her movements, Mara headed straight for the old hut. With every step she took, her pace picked up more and more. She ran the last few metres to the shack. The beloved, peaceful landscape around her slowly began to blur, until everything was shrouded in a greenish-grey veil of smoke and mist. Meanwhile, the outline of the wooden house became clearer and clearer. So clear that Mara could even see the dark green moss along the stone foundation, the texture and knots of the wooden planks, and every crack and hole in the wooden wall.
The feeling of foreboding that Mara had felt earlier turned into a familiar, deep-seated fear that spread violently through her body and settled deep in her heart. Mara came to an abrupt halt at the barn door. Her heart was pounding against her chest, her breathing was rapid and erratic, and there was nothing but panic in her eyes. Panic before the inevitable - and so she closed her eyes and reached out, trembling, for the door handle, completely powerless.
No sooner had Mara's fingertips touched the warm wood of the door than she felt the ground suddenly give way beneath her feet with a thud. Mara lost her footing and plunged helplessly into a black, bottomless abyss, a scream of shock on her lips as she was swallowed up by the darkness.
Mara's free fall didn't last long, and suddenly the back of her head hit the ground hard. Under her hands, Mara felt worn wooden planks smeared with dry earth. Her head throbbed from the unpleasant impact, and her face was sore too; Mara's right cheek and nose pulsed intensely with lingering pain. She could feel warm liquid running in small streams from her injured nose over her lips. The characteristic metallic-sweet taste of fresh blood lingered unpleasantly on her lips.
When Mara blinked her eyes open, she saw that she was inside the shed. Her younger self lay amidst walls of bright yellow, neatly stacked bales of straw, giving off the pleasant scent of freshly cut hay and grass. Standing over Mara were two older boys, about 12 years old - Daniel and Thore, two rough troublemakers from the surrounding farms. They were uncouth idiots who took great pleasure in tormenting poor Marcus whenever they got the chance.
"Didn't I tell ya little brats that we don't wanna to see ya here any more? The barn is ours now!" said Daniel, grinning so mockingly that you could see his unkempt, crooked teeth.
Mara spat and uttered a few barely intelligible, agonised curses. Thore and Daniel's faces darkened into grimaces of rage and disgust. Just as Mara was about to stand up to hurl her opinion at the two half-strong wannabes face to face, she was hit in the stomach by a powerful and well-directed kick. Mara fell to the ground again. She writhed in pain as the two older boys continued to kick her, laughing derisively. Suddenly she heard a shrill scream behind her and the kicks stopped, only the pain remained.
"Stop hurting her. Why are you so mean? Stop it!"
It was Marcus' voice, whose otherwise gentle tone had all but disappeared. Now it sounded terribly shrill and harsh, vibrating with suppressed anger and despair. Marcus' lanky body trembled, his narrow shoulders and thin arms were tensed to breaking point. His hands were clenched so tightly into fists that the knuckles stood out white under his pale skin. Tears gathered in the corners of his narrowed eyes, and his normally pale complexion had turned a deep crimson.
'I can't protect him. I'm too weak. I don't care if they hurt me, but I want them to leave Marcus alone. Why doesn't he run away. I can't do it any more. I'm so pathetic,' Mara thought desperately.
Mara, still on the floor, heaved herself up onto her knees with difficulty and supported herself trembling on her elbows. She turned her head to Marcus, looked at him helplessly and pleaded in a fragile, weak voice: "Markus, run away! RUN!"
Thore and Daniel looked at each other in astonishment for a moment and then burst out laughing in unison. Before Mara could do anything, she suddenly felt a painful weight on her back. Thore, about two heads taller and twice as wide as Mara, had sat on her with his knees and was pressing her down onto the floor. The sheer mass of his body squeezed the air out of her lungs. Mara let out a pained whimper, while the two older boys laughed derisively.
"I said, Stop hurting her. Otherwise... Or else... Or else! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Marcus's hate-fuelled voice was breaking. All his repressed emotions erupted in a bloodcurdling scream.
Thore jumped off her back as if stung by a tarantula. Daniel and he retreated a few steps in panic until they bumped into the wooden wall of the shed. Their eyes were wide with shock and their hands were outstretched in a defensive gesture. When Mara turned to Marcus, she could see the source of the two boys' fear. Marcus' hands were surrounded by orange-red flames. The unbearable heat emanating from the flames made the air around them shimmer and crackle more and more.
"Stop it, stop it. STOP IT. I'll finish you off. I don't want you to hurt her anymore! I want you to BURN!"
A wave of Marcus' hand and the dry hay and straw around them was ablaze. In a matter of seconds, the whole room was filled with smoke and the blazing fire ate hungrily through the straw and rotten wood. The flickering flames leapt from one bale to the next, turning the whole scene into one devastating fireball. Mara felt the unbearable heat on her body and could hardly breathe because of the smoke. All she could see was the unreal, terrifying figure of Marcus. He had stopped screaming and his lips were pressed together in a thin line. His skin was colourless and pale. Instead of the lush green, Mara found only a deep black in his eyes. His gaze was directed at her with contempt and disgust. Mara could hear Markus' demonically distorted voice in her mind.
"This is all your fault, you foolish child. You couldn't protect me. You are weak. I don't need you. You're nothing but a helpless little girl. Pitiful creature, pah!"
Marcus' body suddenly collapsed as Mara struggled to her weak feet. The world around them began to shake, the walls collapsing with a loud crash and crackle. Mara wanted to call out to Markus, to get up and run to him, to help him... but her legs and her voice would not obey. Out of the flames behind the bizarre figure of Marcus emerged two hulking men in shimmering silver armour, with the crest of the Order of the Templars emblazoned on their chests. They did not look at Mara, all their attention focused on Marcus as he lay on the ground. The two men grabbed her brother by his limp arms and dragged him roughly to his thin legs.
Mara's thoughts raced: 'They're taking him away. They're taking him from me. They can't do that. Marcus is a good boy. He hasn't done anything wrong. I ...'
Mara pulled herself together, got to her feet and staggered towards the two templars. When she got hold of one man's arm, she tugged at it with all her strength. A desperate and futile attempt to stop the Templars from dragging Marcus away. "Let him go. You must not take him! NO!"
The Templar looked down in disgust at the little crying girl in front of him. He growled disapprovingly as he jerked the arm Mara was clutching free from her powerless grasp. He struck Mara a blow with his armoured backhand and she fell down again. Blood ran from her temple into her eye. She watched helplessly as Marcus was dragged mercilessly through a curtain of flames and smoke into the Void. He slowly faded into the distance while she was left alone. Tears, mixed with dark red blood, ran relentlessly down her cheeks.
'Helpless little girl. Weak. Pathetic. Useless. Alone.' These words kept echoing in her head.
Bathed in sweat and with tears streaming down her face, Mara awoke from her sleep. She sat bolt upright in her bed in the small hut in Haven. She had thrown the sheets and pillow out of bed during her restless sleep. Her throat was dry and her hands trembled as she buried her wet face in them. She couldn't suppress a quiet sob.
Mara sat motionless on her bed for a long time. The fire in the fireplace had long since burnt down and only a few smouldering coals remained in the hearth. The room was cold and the silver light of the starlit sky fell through the windows. Mara rose awkwardly and with stiff limbs and staggered, still dazed from her unrestful and cruel sleep, to the table that stood under one of the windows. With trembling hands, she poured herself a glass of cold water from the waiting jug and drank it down in one gulp. Her gaze wandered outside, to the calm, shimmering green Breach in the night sky. It was neither very early in the morning nor very late at night. Strictly speaking, it was the time between night and day, just before dawn. The time when the veil was at its thinnest.
Mara sighed crestfallen and put her glass down carefully; there was no point in trying to get some sleep again. Her thoughts would only wander back to the painful memories that had been haunting her dreams more and more frequently lately anyway. Even now, when she was awake, she couldn't get the images out of her head. Mara's gaze wandered through her small hut and lingered on her beloved weapons.
Well, if I'm already awake, I might as well start training a little earlier. The more I train, the stronger I get, the more people I can help, the more useful I am. I'll never be so weak again!
With newfound energy, Mara crossed the room, put on her Inquisition armour with deft but still somewhat shaky fingers, girded on her swords and stepped resolutely out into the wintry cold of the Frostback Mountains.
see also: ao3_fearful dreams
german text: ao3_angsterfüllte Träume
Trigger WARNING!
This chapter contains mentions of death, brute violence and blood. If you are triggered by this, skip the first part of the chapter or the whole chapter.
Please stay safe !
If it hadn't been for Kirkwall, would it ever have come to this?
It was over a year ago when the oppressed mages in Kirkwall rebelled against the unjust and violent control of the Templars under their commander, Meredith. The situation escalated when a mage detonated the city's Chantry, resulting in the deaths of dozens of Chantry clerics and the Revered Mother herself.
It was a massacre, and Kirkwall descended into chaos. Templars attacked mages, mages attacked Templars, large parts of the city were set ablaze and destroyed, and among the many poor souls who did not survive that cruel night were countless innocents - common folk, nobles, servants, merchants, refugees, the elderly, and children - their blood staining Kirkwall's cold and dirty streets in a dark red.
Thanks to the Champion of Kirkwall - Garrett Hawke - and the courageous intervention of brave volunteers, the situation in Kirkwall was eventually brought back under control. However, despite all efforts, the city has still not properly recovered to this day. Large parts of the city, especially in the Undercity and the slums, remained in ruins. The residents lived with their families in impoverished conditions in rundown huts or amidst the filth of the streets. Diseases and hunger were rampant, leading to frustration and even more anger - especially towards the mages. The events became a symbol of the centuries-old conflict between mages and Templars, triggering a chain of events that also affected the small Circle of Ostwick. The mages openly accused the Templars of abuse of power, suppression, and psychological and physical mistreatment.
The Templars accused the mages of practicing forbidden magic, putting innocents in danger, and disrespecting the holy order of the Maker. Possession and pacts with demons and abominations were also common accusations. Mistrust and envy grew on both sides until tensions boiled over. The mages of the local Circles rebelled, defying their "guardians," loudly chanting for the dissolution of the Circles and the freedom of all mages in Thedas. The Templars, in turn, sought to quell the uprising of their "charges" and restore order - initially through words and intimidation. The Templars' attempts to calm the rebellious and unyielding mages through diplomacy were soon forgotten: Words turned into physical altercations, altercations into assaults, assaults into deliberate destruction, murder, and manslaughter.
The Circles were to fall, a bloody uprising was inevitable. At that point, not even the Conclave of the Divine Justina could likely prevent the escalation of the conflict between mages and Templars. Gradually, the mage Circles across the Marches and the neighboring lands fell, and the resident mages were either fleeing, dead, or in open rebellion. Yet not all mages (nor all Templars) sought to advance the uprising with violence and bloodshed. While many roamed as so-called Apostates, completely mad and marauding through the lands, there was also a significant number of more reasonable mages who sought a peaceful solution to the problem and embarked on their journey to the Conclave in this hope.
The Circle of Magi in Ostwick remained neutral for a long time - much to the growing discontent of many of its magically gifted inhabitants. The simmering tension in the otherwise peaceful Circle did not escape the notice of the First Enchanter, Darius. He then proposed that some of the older and more senior mages of the Circle accompany him to the Conclave and present the demands of the Circle mages to the Divine - a fateful decision at a particularly unfavorable time, as it would turn out. Without the respectful presence of a large portion of the experienced mages and the increased vigilance of the remaining Templars, the courage of the younger mages to take matters into their own hands grew instead of waiting for the return of the elders. The frustration and anger among the mages were the tinder, and a simple misunderstanding between an apprentice and a Templar was the spark, and BOOM. The situation escalated, and everything blew up in their faces. That was the end of the Circle of Ostwick.
"You have to hold on, Sam! Can you hear me, Samantha? Everything will be okay. Look at me. Please, Sam!" Marcus' voice sounded hoarse and trembling.
His normally pale hands were soaked in dark, sticky blood, shimmering in the dancing light of the flames. Marcus pressed his trembling hands onto the wound in Samantha's chest, pouring as much of his healing magic as possible into the lifeless body lying before him on the cold limestone floor. He focused on the blood vessels, attempting to reconnect the violently severed pathways, trying to use his magic to coax them back together, wanting to prevent Sam from agonizingly bleeding out in his arms - in vain. The wound inflicted by the Templar's sword in Samantha's chest was too deep, the blood loss too great. Marcus couldn't save her, he wasn't strong enough. Again! Why couldn't he save her? Why had he become a healer? Sam needed his help, and he could do nothing, absolutely nothing.
You are so pathetic. Weak. Useless. You should be lying here, not Sam!
Tears of despair and fear welled up in his eyes. Why hadn't the Templars just let them go? Why had Sam and the others even attacked the Templars? Why had the first Enchanter abandoned them so completely? Why hadn't he taken action sooner? Could he have prevented this senseless bloodshed?
"It will all be okay again, Sam. I'm here," Marcus sobbed.
With his bloody hand, he brushed the brown curls from Sam's pale face, leaving a red, greasy streak on her pallid cheek. His other hand still rested on the wound. The warm blood of his best friend oozed between his now numb fingers. He felt her breath growing shallower, her heartbeat slowing. Marcus couldn't save her, but he could stay with her until her soul broke through the veil and found its freedom in nothingness. Her blue eyes, usually full of energy, were dull, pale. A solitary tear rolled down her bloody cheek. One last time, her body convulsed beneath him, only to go limp in his arms moments later. Her vacant gaze was fixed in the distance, and Marcus closed her eyelids with trembling fingers. Marcus couldn't tell how long he had knelt on the hard stone floor. He was trapped in a whirlwind of fear, grief, and self-pity. His body and mind felt equally numb. It was as if he had turned into a stone pillar on the spot - unable to move, condemned to eternal helplessness. Suddenly, Marcus felt something on his shoulder, and something or someone shook him vigorously.
"Marcus, snap out of it. Sam is dead. There's nothing more you can do. We need to get out of here now. Come on!"
Panicked, Marcus whirled around. For a brief moment, he thought the ground beneath him would give way. The walls around him swayed, and his heart raced with fear. Resa stood behind him, gripping his shoulder tightly. She looked like a hunted animal, her eyes wide with panic as she searched the surroundings frantically for an escape route. Marcus lowered his gaze and stared at Sam's body. She lay motionless on the hard, blood-soaked stone floor. Marcus's mind knew she was dead, but his heart refused to believe it. Sam had been like a sister to him for so long, and now she was suddenly gone forever? That couldn't be true, could it? He must be dreaming, he could only be dreaming. Slowly, Marcus removed his dark red hand from Sam's body, which was growing colder by the moment.
As the dizziness subsided and he regained his senses, Marcus recognized the extent of the chaos around them. They were in the entrance hall of the main building. The elongated room, usually adorned with impressive tapestries depicting scenes from the Canon of Andraste and Maferath on its tall limestone walls, and typically quiet due to the absence of visitors, had now turned into a scene of raw hatred and bloody violence. Some of the braziers had toppled over, and the few furnishings in the room were either destroyed, engulfed in flames, or both. The precious tapestries had been torn from the walls without ceremony and now lay on the floor, gradually soaking up the blood of the dead and wounded. The acrid smoke from the blazing fires filled the room, making breathing and seeing difficult and painful. From a distance, muffled by the thick smoke, Marcus could hear tortured sounds. It was a mixture of angry, hate-filled roars, curses, harsh commands, shrill desperate cries of pain, and faint calls for help.
While Marcus was still trying to find his way around the smoke-filled room, Resa had already grabbed him by the arm and was dragging him with hurried steps towards the large, iron-bound entrance doors. When had he got up from the floor? Resa must have pulled him away from Sam. The heavy, double-leaf gate made of solid, dark iron bark had been forced open. One wing was hanging crookedly on its hinges, the other had been completely torn from its moorings. The heat of the ever-growing inferno was unbearable, the acrid smoke stung their lungs and eyes. Marcus could barely see where they were going, staggering and trying to cover his mouth and nose with the hem of his sleeve from the smoke that was gradually threatening to suffocate him.
Meanwhile, Resa pulled him purposefully behind her towards the freedom she longed for, past the ruins of her old house, past the dead that lined her path. And suddenly it was there - freedom... cold, dark, bloody freedom! Resa and Marcus scurried out into the starless, icy night through the usually firmly closed front doors of the circle. The winter air was like a slap in the face. It burned in their lungs and was a painful relief compared to the deadly heat of the burning building that was receding further and further into the distance behind them. The fresh air and the slowly diminishing ringing in his ears helped Marcus to regain his senses. With difficulty, he managed to send a little magic into his body to heal his smoke-burned lungs and his battered limbs, making it easier for him to breathe. Resa wouldn't let go of him, and so the two mages kept walking in no particular direction. Further and further away from the place they had called home for so many decades. Further and further away from good friends and familiar faces. Further and further away - to freedom? Marcus felt miserable - not only because of his battered body, but above all because of the agonizing fear, the gnawing remorse and the helplessness.
Freedom, pah! That's freedom bought at a high price. So many unnecessary sacrifices and pain. A freedom that is not freedom. They will hunt us down, capture us or kill us outright. Fair game!
Tears welled up on Marcus' face again as he stumbled disorientated through the dark night.
~~~
Marcus was alone. After their escape, he and Resa had spent a long time discussing what they should do now. Resa wanted to join the mages in Ferelden under the leadership of the Grand Enchantress Fiona. Marcus was against it. In his opinion, they should look for a safe haven somewhere and wait in peace until this terrible war, which had already cost so many lives, was over. He wasn't a fighter, he didn't want to take part in a suicidal uprising. Besides, what could he have contributed? Of course, if you wanted to change something, you had to do something about it. But a bloody civil war between mages and Templars? That was out of his league. The mage sighed in despair. On the run from the coven, Resa and he had come across an abandoned homestead on the edge of the forest just outside Ostwick (the decomposed corpse of an old man who had probably owned the small homestead suggested that no one had been there recently). They had spent the night there. In constant fear that a Templar search party would track them down and bring them to justice. Nothing of the sort happened.
Resa and he agreed that they had better not be recognized as mages at first (or second) glance. As they looked around the run-down house, they found some moth-eaten clothes and other useful odds and ends (a few old wooden jugs, candles, simple crockery, old cloths, etc.). Marcus had swapped his bloodstained and completely torn indigo mage's robe for a simple beige linen tunic, a leather waistcoat that was far too big and a bit full of holes, and simple woolen leg warmers. At a small stream, he had washed his hands, which were crusted with dried blood, and his soot-smeared face in ice-cold water. He had cut off his long black hair, which he usually tied carefully in a ponytail, with an old, rusty knife. The short, uneven strands now hung stoically in his face. He had left his staff behind in the burning circle in the hectic rush to escape.
Marcus had hardly slept in the last few days, neither on the night of the escape nor in the two nights that followed. The events and impressions were too present, the thoughts about them and the ominous extent of their deeds would not let him go. He was tired and exhausted, had hardly eaten anything and his whole body groaned under the unaccustomed fatigue. Resa and he had said goodbye to each other last night and now he was alone in the old farmhouse (he had buried the farmer's body as best he could in the frozen ground). For the moment, Marcus was still reasonably safe in this little hut. But he knew he couldn't stay there; it was too close to the city, too close to the circle. Besides, he hardly had anything to eat there. But where should he go?
Could I go home? The estate can't be more than a few hours away, Marcus thought.
Would mum and dad be happy to see me? Probably not. Theo would probably make a grim face, but secretly he would be relieved that I was all right. He would probably let me stay for a while. And Mara? Mara would probably be happy to see me, but she would be terribly worried and do everything in her power to help me. She would tear both her legs out if it would help me. That much is certain!
A long, sad sigh escaped Marcus and he felt his eyes slowly fill with tears as he thought of his family and Mara. It had been so long since they had last seen each other. Almost an eternity. They were both still children. They had written letters to each other regularly over the last few years, but that was no substitute for the time they had lost together. Marcus loved Mara's letters and had hidden them under the mattress of his bed like a treasure. They were always written very pragmatically, but full of funny stories and adventures that she had experienced. The letters had probably burnt to a crisp by now and were lost forever. He missed her terribly, his little Mara. He had to smile when he thought of her. She hated it when he called her his little Mara and never tired of pointing out to him that he was only a few minutes older than her and that didn't count. Marcus wiped the tears that were now running down his face involuntarily with the sleeve of his tunic and wrinkled his nose defiantly.
I can't go home, can I? I'm just putting everyone in danger by asking them to hide me. I'm a bloody renegade now. And a miserable coward to boot. Maybe I should have gone with Resa. Although ... she's probably better off without me anyway. I'd just be a drag on her. What am I going to do?
Even if he didn't know exactly where he was going, he knew one thing for sure. He had to move on, find a better hiding place and urgently find something to eat.
If only Mara were here. She would certainly know what to do. Fuck, Marcus, what have you got yourself into?
Leliana was in her tent. She rested her hands on an improvised table made from old crates and pondered over the latest report from Rector, which she had received only a few minutes ago. She read the neatly written words carefully once more. If there was the slightest hidden meaning, she wanted to be sure not to miss it.
~~~
Dear Sister Nightingale,
Our adventurous raven may have lost some of his feathers. The wind had blown them from the harbour out to sea. The black feathers had washed up on the Minanter, and that's where I found them recently. Our little friend could not have gotten far. Maybe I can catch him and bring him back. I remember you once told me of his fondness for ripe red grapes. I shall leave some on my windowsill in the hope that they will attract his attention.
Yours sincerely, your old friend
Rector
~~~
A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Leliana's lips as she read the overly ornate words her spy had chosen to deliver the message. Rector always tried to wrap information in metaphors or fanciful stories to hide the true meaning from the unaware. However, anyone with at least half a brain and a little patience would be able to decipher the letters after a while. Still, Leliana appreciated the effort. Despite his flaws, Rector was one of her best spies, which was why Leliana had chosen him for this particular quest. He knew how to be discreet and effective when it came to gathering information, and he was an accomplished con man to boot.
Though the report was not what she had hoped for, it was more than she expected. Originally, Leliana had sent Rector to search for clues as to the whereabouts of the Hero of Ferelden - some time before the annihilation of the Conclave and the murder of the Devine. Leliana had hoped that if they could find her and explain the gravity and importance of their situation, Solana wouldn't waste another minute and would rush to Haven to support her friends.
Solana Amell had become a symbol, an icon whose name carried influence far beyond the borders of Ferelden. A name that carried weight and made even the most powerful recoil in respect, even though most of the time no one ever used the name. She was called the Hero of Ferelden, the Great Commander of the Grey Wardens, the Saviour of the Lost, the Grey Liberator of the Blight, the Mother of Griffons, or the Wraith of Demons (to name but a few). Solana's presence alone would have been enough to boost the Inquisition's efforts considerably. What's more, Leliana would have loved nothing more than to see Sol again. She missed her dear friend and sister very much. How long has it been? Almost ten years now? Leliana stifled a longing sigh. Now was not the time to dwell on old memories, it was time to get on with things.
According to her latest information, Solana had been seen travelling through the Free Marches towards Rivain. Leliana didn't know exactly what Solana was up to, but she had a pretty good idea. It must have something to do with the plague that runs through the veins of every Grey Warden, or more specifically, a treatment for it. Leliana had heard rumours of women from Rivain who lived with the creatures from behind the veil and willingly offered their bodies as tools for the demons to interact with the waking world. It was said that the women's connection to the fate gave them the power to magically heal any illness or injury. These women were called spirit healers.
Since Solana had to cross the Free Marches to get to Rivain, Lelina placed some of her spies around the sovereign cities. She deliberately sent Rector to Tentervale, the northeasternmost city in the Marches, which lay on the border with Rivain. So far, however, they've found no clues to the hero's whereabouts - which, to be fair, wasn't unexpected. If Solana didn't want to be found, even Leliana had a hard time getting a hold of her. After all, it was Leliana who had taught Sol how to hide and travel unnoticed.
It was rather ironic that Zevran was now the one helping her to find Solana. Luckily, unlike Sol, this annoying elf didn't seem to care too much about being found by the Inquisition. Zevran had once been part of an organisation known as the Ravens of Antiva - assassins and thieves who operated throughout Thedas, known and feared for their discretion and deadly efficiency. At the moment, Leliana was unable to leave Haven, so Zevran was the only one with the skills and knowledge to find the Hero of Ferelden. When they had travelled together, he had always been one step behind Solana, following her like a lost puppy. Even if you didn't see him, you could be sure he was following her in the shadows, ready to slit the throat of anyone who so much as looked at his little corazon. Judging by that alone, it wouldn't be surprising if Zeran was keeping an eye on her even now. So if Leliana and her people couldn't find Solana, Zevran was their best bet.
If Rector can find a way to contact Zevran, then all we have to do is find a way to convince Zev to help us find Sol. He has to. Not even he would be so arrogant as to ignore the importance of our task. And even if he does not know where Sol is - he has always had an annoying talent for finding her, no matter what the circumstances. Alors, trés bien.
Leliana's thoughts began to wander back to her past. She remembered the first time they had come to Denerin. Poor Solana had been completely overwhelmed by the size of the city and the number of people milling about. She'd spent most of her life in the Circle, and the biggest city she'd ever seen was Redcliffe. However, due to the attacks by the undead and the refugees from Lothering, Redcliffe could hardly be described as a functioning town at this time. Denerim, on the other hand, was buzzing with life: Humans, elves and dwarves were everywhere. It was loud, chaotic, hectic and crowded. Leliana had barely turned round when Solana, who had been standing next to her a moment before, suddenly disappeared. Leliana almost panicked. She looked right, left and in every other direction, but couldn't spot Solana anywhere among the many people at the market. There was no sign of her.
Leliana's gaze fell on Zevran, who was leaning calmly against the wall of a house with an amused expression on his face. He was supposed to be looking after Sol with her. When Zevran saw her worried look, his smile only grew wider and more furtive. "Miá querida, Leliana. Don't make such a worried face. You look much prettier when you smile. What?... Ohhh, don't worry belleza, nothing will happen to our little Sol. Zevran is here to save the day." Zevran grinned cheekily. He pushed himself away from the wall and quickly disappeared into the crowd. Five minutes later, he reappeared with a confused Solana in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.
"Sister Nightingale, sorry to disturb you."
Leliana was abruptly torn from her thoughts by one of her scouts. She blinked away the rising anger, put on her usual calm and neutral mask (eyes clear and focussed, lips pressed loosely together, jaw muscles relaxed and always a slight, polite smile) and turned to the woman.
"Report!" Leliana ordered the woman.
"The herald and his companions are back. They have just arrived at the stables," the scout said briefly and saluted.
Leliana's eyes widened briefly in astonishment. The herald had arrived a day early? Anger rose in her that she had not been informed earlier. Something like this was not allowed to happen. She was a master spy and had to know EVERYTHING that was going on. The conclave had shown what happened when that wasn't the case. She swallowed her feelings and didn't let anything show. Her only movement was a barely perceptible nod.
"Bien. Tell the commander and the ambassador. We'll meet in the council chamber. Send someone to Lady Trevelyan and tell her that her presence and that of Seeker Pentaghast is also desired. Dismissed."
~~~
When Mara and Cassandra entered the council chamber in the church, the commander, the master spy and the ambassador were already standing impatiently at the card table. Two of them had a look of uncertain expectation written all over their faces. Cullen's jaw was tense, his lips compressed into a thin line as he shifted his weight uneasily from one leg to the other and clutched the hilt of his sword convulsively. Josephine's brow was furrowed with worry and she kept exchanging nervous glances with Leliana and Cullen as she scribbled something on her notepad. Cullen and Josephine were like open books. Their worry and tension was palpable. Leliana, on the other hand, seemed calm at first glance, but Mara was sure that something must be simmering inside her too. Or was there? This woman was so damn hard for Mara to read that it was scary and got on Mara's nerves a little. Try as she might, she couldn't see behind the façade Leliana had built around her emotions. Still, she thought she noticed a slight twitch of Leliana's eyebrows as they entered the room.
"Herald, you're back already? We weren't expecting you so soon. Were there any complications? Are you all right?" asked the ambassador anxiously.
Such doomsayers, thought Mara. Something bad doesn't always have to happen just because something doesn't go according to plan. But it's nice that they're worried.
The reason for their early arrival was simply that they had finished their tasks sooner than originally expected. The raven with the corresponding message had probably not yet arrived (Mara should have sent the note with her return journey to Haven earlier, but had almost forgotten in the excitement and had only sent the letter from the road a few hours before her arrival. But nobody needed to know that).
Once the matter of the early arrival had been cleared up, Mara actually had mainly bad news. She told them about the lyrium veins they had discovered in one of the caves in the Hinterlands, about the possessed wolves they had killed for Dennet, about bandits, crazed mages and templars and all the other troubles they had encountered.
Gritting their teeth, the five members of the inquisition spent a good two hours discussing how to deal with the various situations. In the end, lists of requirements were drawn up, tasks assigned and missions determined. They would take some of their soldiers with them on their next mission to the hinterlands to erect and man watchtowers for the safety of the inhabitants and travellers. Some additional scouts and volunteers would support Corporal Vale and the refugees at the crossroads. Leliana would take care of the Teryn of Highever, as she seemed to know Bann Cousland personally. The Bann had written a letter to the Inquisition asking to attend a wake for the Divine Justinia.
"I know Teryn Cousland and I knew Justinia. I can't be there myself, but I could write to Fergus." The master spy said with a casual gesture. That was the end of the matter.
Josephine was still busy topping up the Inquisition's meagre reserves. Since the Church had officially denounced the Inquisition and distanced itself from it, they had to look for another source of income. Without additional financial resources, the young organisation could not continue to exist and grow. Trade in Haven was still very limited at the moment, but according to their ambassador, there were certainly opportunities to make money - if they were prepared to focus on it.
Josephine excitedly made notes on her tablet and said without looking up, "Oh. I'm excellent at exchanging favours with merchants and nobles. If we act with foresight and prudence, it could bring us a lot of resources."
"Sounds good to me!... Aaaalright, if that's all for today, I'd like to scrub the dirt from the last few days off my skin in a hot bath." Mara raised her arms above her head and stretched her stiff limbs with relish, so that you could even hear the joints cracking. "It's been a long day for all of us. What do you think?" She looked round. Cassandra nodded to the herald with a grim expression, while the three on the other side of the card table cast critical glances at each other. Mara's hopes of a hot bath melted away like fresh snow in summer. She slumped her shoulders and sighed.
"I'm afraid, Herald, we have another urgent matter to discuss." Leliana broke the awkward silence.
Josephine took over: "As you will have noticed, Mother Giselle has arrived safe and sound. During her stay so far, we have already had the pleasure of talking to the reverend mother about the 'misunderstandings' between the Church and our Inquisition.
Mara made a disgruntled face. Church politics was the last thing she wanted to talk about. She wanted to finally get some bloody rest. But as her uncle always said when he gave her another endless lecture on war history and Mara begged him to stop: 'Patience is the art of hiding your impatience'. Mara sighed inwardly and wanted to slump down. But instead she straightened her back, stood up to her full height, pushed aside her resentment and hoped fervently that she didn't sound too angry.
"What did the reverend mother have to report?" asked Mara.
"As you surely know, Herold, the Church holds you responsible for the events during the Conclave and the death of Her Holiness Justinia," Leliana began.
Cassandra let out a growling "Urgh!" and Mara couldn't suppress a contemptuous snort. "I can guess who I have to thank for that. Chancellor Roderik is a real ray of sunshine, isn't he?"
"You don't say," Cullen retorted in a disgusted tone. Mara and he exchanged a knowing glance.
"Be that as it may," Josephine continued, "As long as the Church openly opposes us, we have no hope of assistance from elsewhere. All our efforts to gain allies have failed. Mother Giselle is correct: the strength of the Church lies currently in its unity. So, if we could convince some of the higher-ranking church members of the Inquisition's intentions and of your innocence, that would be a significant step forward."
She was right, it was a major issue. Mara pondered, and eventually an idea occurred to her. The Trevelyan family had always generously supported the Church—many of Mara's relatives were even members of the Chantry in the Free Marches. Mara herself had never had much patience for the whole affair, but now she was forced to contend with it. Absentmindedly, she played with her fingers on her lower lip. Frowning thoughtfully, she stared at the map spread out before her.
"My family has cultivated well-maintained relationships with members of the Church in the Free Marches for decades. I believe I can leverage House Trevelyan's contacts and connections to put in a good word for us. If that doesn't work, we can always try to part them from a few gold coins. After all, they have more than enough of those to spare."
The ambassador's eyes lit up. "An excellent idea, Herald. That would surely aid us. However, I don't believe the influence of the clerics from the Free Marches will be sufficient to persuade the local church representatives of the sincerity of the Inquisition—of your sincerity."
"Yeah, I figured as much," Mara lowered her arms, fixing the ambassador with a serious gaze, and continued with a determined voice.
"Then I'll just pay a personal visit to those revered ladies with their fancy bonnets. They can see for themselves that I'm not the monster they take me for."
Mara's words reverberated off the tall, cold stone walls of the church, lending them an unintentionally ominous resonance. For a brief moment, there was absolute silence, only the steady crackle of the fires in the braziers all around could be heard. Josephine was the first to regain her voice.
"You want to approach the clerics yourselves?... That could work," she said somewhat hesitantly but still with confidence.
Cullen, on the other hand, seemed far from optimistic, as if he were taken aback. "You can't be serious."
His voice took on a dark undertone, and he emphasized each word with great care. Cullen's eyebrows furrowed, creasing his forehead, his eyes glaring at the ambassador.
Mara could all too easily imagine how Cullen grabbed poor Josephine by both shoulders with his strong hands and shook her vigorously to bring her back to her senses. Poor Josie, she didn't deserve to bear the brunt of Cullen's frustration. After all, it was Mara's idea, not hers. Before Mara could say anything to rescue the ambassador, Leliana intervened.
"We cannot ignore the danger to the Herald," she said, her voice calm, her words carefully chosen, yet an unmistakable undertone of threat lingered. Leliana's expression, on the other hand, remained as unreadable as ever. Somehow, Mara found it touching that they were concerned for her safety, yet their concern also carried a bitter undertone.
"They only care about the mark and my influence as the Herald of Andraste. They surely don't worry about me... Why would they? I'm just the unfortunate tool of adverse circumstances."
Mara pushed aside the gloomy thoughts before the downward spiral could dig deeper into her. She always overthought things, a fact her brother often pointed out to her. Whether the others were worried about her or her position as the Herald didn't matter right now. She had a new task to focus on, and she would manage with a few outraged, arrogant clerics. Mara lowered her head and shook it slowly. Before the three bickering voices could resume their discussion, Mara quickly spoke up.
"Thank you for your concern, but I think it shouldn't be a problem. Cassandra will accompany me."
With a gentle smile, Mara sought the Seeker's gaze. Cassandra returned Mara's look, visibly taken aback, but then nodded towards Leliana. "Mother Giselle surely has some names of influential church servants for us. We should seize this opportunity to gather the few of them willing to listen to the Herald. We will depart for Val Royeaux as soon as they are ready. We will get through this together."
With these final words, the meeting was finally adjourned. Cassandra turned on her heel and swiftly exited the briefing room, followed by Josephine, who was busy scribbling on her clipboard. Cullen sighed visibly frustrated. As he passed by Mara, he stopped beside her and looked at her with a serious expression.
"I hope you know what you're doing."
Without waiting for a response from Mara, the Commander continued on and also left the room. The corners of Mara's mouth twisted into a wry smile. She snorted derisively. Suddenly, she felt terribly tired again. Seeking support, she rested her hands on the map table and slowly turned her head towards the still-present spymaster.
"Is the Commander always so concerned? He could afford to trust me a bit more. It's not like I'm facing a wild dragon one-on-one. Or is there something else I should be worried about?"
Leliana had her arms crossed behind her back and gave Mara a warning look with her ice-blue eyes.
"Do not underestimate the power of words. An enraged crowd is just as dangerous as a hidden blade."
~~~
Before retiring to her hut, Mara briefly stopped by Josephine's to give the ambassador some names of church members from her family (at least the names she could remember). The ambassador noted down the names and promised to keep the Herald out of any negotiations. Barely had Mara left the ambassador's office when Mother Giselle spotted her and swiftly approached her like a young cat on the hunt, claiming Mara's time (and her dwindling patience). Mara stoically endured it. When Mother Giselle finally relented, Mara wanted nothing more than to leave the sacred halls as quickly as possible. Her tired body craved a hot, steaming bath and a hearty, calorie-rich meal. At the thought of dinner, her stomach eagerly rumbled. Just as Mara reached the large, double oak door, her hope was once again abruptly shattered. As if out of nowhere, Sister Leliana suddenly stood behind her and made herself known with a soft clearing of her throat. Mara's desperate, pleading gaze was met by Leliana with an actually apologetic expression.
"Forgive me for detaining you, Lady Herald. But I wanted to personally deliver this to you."
She held out a simple envelope to Mara, on which nothing else was written but her name.
"This letter arrived this morning. Since it is addressed directly to you, I believe it is of a personal nature. Here, please take it."
She knew that Leliana was aware of the contents of the letter, even though she now pretended to be completely unaffected. As Masterspy, it was her duty to know everything about everyone. It was easy for her to open and reseal a letter so that it appeared untouched.Mara accepted the envelope with slightly trembling hands and wide eyes. She immediately recognized the handwriting in which her name was written.
Marcus
see also: ao3_echos of the past
german text: ao3_Echos der Vergangenheit
If Mara was honest with herself, she had to admit that she liked the Hinterlands - no matter how much Varric complained about them. Around every corner, every hill, every riverbed the land vibrated with life. In summer colorful shimmering dragonflies buzzed along water's edge, rainbow trouts scrimmaged in the clear rivers and the air was filled with life. When dawn closed in the chaotic buzzing and humming of hundreds of insects reverberated through the air. There were dense, green forests, which softly nestled up against the upcoming mountains. Looking down the valley toward Lake Calenhad, the tree lines thinned out and made space for a rag rug of green and yellow fields. There was beauty in every season. The cold and unyielding Ferelden winter could show its charming site, too. The fallow fields were covered with a thick layer of snow that sparkled in winter's sun, like a white sea sprinkled with thousands of small diamonds. The meager trees and fir forests looked like someone had covered them in sweet powdered sugar and in between you could find the tracks of the local wildlife crossing paths. In winter, everything seemed so calm and peaceful - a silence found rarely in these troubled times.
Now, in the time of the first sowing, everything was in transition. It was the time of change when the first signs of the upcoming spring found its way back into the lands. Flora and fauna both awoke from their slumber. Mara enjoyed riding with the mild wind caressing her cheeks and the low rays of sun illuminating the path in front of her. For a moment, she could feel free. However, this feeling only lasted so long. She couldn't let herself get distracted. The land still suffered a terrible civil war and danger lured around every corner whether it was in form of rebel mages, crazed templars or ruthless bandits. The innocent civilians suffered the most. They had lost their homes, friends and family and had to flee without so much as the clothes they wore and the things they could grab.
Mara would've liked nothing more than just riding past the inquisition camp - just keep going, don't turn around and feel free for just a little bit longer. Theoretically, she could have done it. No one would've stopped her if she would just keep on riding. She could start her search for Marcus, eventually. However, although she could, she would not. It wasn't right to just bail. She simply could not ignore all that was going on and let down the people who depended on her, not even for a simple minute of freedom. With that in mind, she steered her horse towards the inquisition camp. Mara sighed und let her head hang low. Everything would've been much easier if she wasn't the Herold of Andraste. That title bore so much responsibility, hopes and expectations. Just thinking of it, Mara could feel her chest constricting unpleasantly. It felt as if her body couldn't contain her and the Herold at the same time any longer.
Although, it was not the responsibility that weighted her down. She had taken over responsibility in her past - sure - for herself, as well as for her companions and the people under her command. This time however, it was so much more. So much more depended on her and on her alone. She thought about what her uncle would've said about all of this, about what had happened and what she would need to do? It had been her uncle taking her under his wings so many years ago. He had taught her everything he knew and she had learned all his skills. It had been he taking her with him to Ostwick, making her a soldier and giving her a new home within the ranks of the town guard. It had taken her only a few years to climb the ranks and become a captain with responsibility over a handful of guardsmen and women. But the responsibilities the inquisition entailed on her were next level. Could she really put up with that? Could she accomplish what everyone hoped for? Could she live up to the icon they saw in her? Well, she would find out eventually, wouldn't she? She gulped down the lump that had formed in her throat and the grip on the reins tightened until her leather gloves gnashed audibly.
It will get easier as soon as we close the breach. It just has to. But one step after another: first recruit Master Dennet and then escort hin back to Haven. Then comes the next step and then the next. It's easy, really. It's a safe and foolproof plan. I just need to take it step by step.
Mara was ripped out of her thoughts the second she arrived at the campsite. She barely was off her horse as Leandra, the requisitions officer in charge of the Hinterlands, appeared besides her out of the blue.
"Herold, a moment please? I know you are right back but I have something that might interest you." Leandra said with a sorry smile while patiently waiting for Mara to dismount.
Leandra did mean well, Mara knew that. But it was so exhausting to fulfill all these requests and there was always something new they needed. She fought back the urge to sigh and put on a, what she hoped was a genuine smile before turning towards the still waiting officer. She grabbed the rains of her horse and headed off to the direction the other mounts were stabled - Leandra on her heels.
Mara softly stroked the neck of her mare wilhe walking. "What do you think, Kalina? Shall we hear what Leandra got for us?" The horse's answer was a loud neighing.
Mara had taken Kalina to her heart the moment she had stepped into the inquisitions stables a few days ago. There she stood in the very back box, a proud mare with a fur white as snow and sprinkles of grey on her flanks and neck. The mare's eyes were a pure and deep black, the mane was a creamy white and on her head, she had a grey, star shaped blaze. She looked absolutely beautiful. Mara guessed that the horse wasn't of pure blood. Based on the stately figure and the strong but lithe legs she would say the mare was a mix of Amaranthine Charger and Orlesian Courser. A beautiful and intelligent creature.
The moment Mara tried to step closer to the horse its ears rose in attention. The mares eyes immediately focused on Mara and it watched her in alert while nervously chomping at the bit.
"Careful Herold. Don't go too close. Missy there has a bloody temper and, a-and she's - she ist very stubborn. Doesn't like anybody getting too close. Has thrown off everyone who tried mounting her, so far."
Mara startled. She hadn't even noticed the stable hand cleaning one of the other boxes - she only had eyes for the white beauty.
"A bloody temper and stubborn you say, ey? That's something I can work with." Mara grinned at the seemingly confused boy.
The now Herold had spent most of her life surrounded by horses. The Trevelyan family owned and operated the biggest and most esteemed horse-breeding ranch in all of the Free Marches. When she was a little girl, she and her brothers had helped her father to take care of the horses and had learned from him everything there was to learn about horses, riding and breeding. Later she had trained the animals on her own which meant that she spent a lot of her time at the stables. That was until her uncle took her with him. In many ways, Mara preferred the presence of horses to the presence of people. Most of the times it was as if those creatures understood her - and she understood them.
Mara turned around and decidedly looked into the black eyes of the mare. She slowly lifted her not glowing hand in a non-threatening manner. Mara waited like that until the horse stopped chomping and its jumpiness subsided before slowly getting closer. Both kept their eyes on one another while Mara neared the box. Finally, standing in front of the horse Mara held out her hand in front of the horse's muzzle. She stared into those deep black eyes and waited. She didn't say a word cause there was no need of such. The mare looked at Mara and Mara looked back. It was as if they both were seeing each other. It was a tense situation. Out of the corner of her eye, Mara could see the stable hand curiously steeling glances from behind the corner of another box. It felt like minutes passed by and nothing happened until the horse let out a defeated huff and finally nuzzled into Maras hand. Mara chuckled to herself and the mare laid its heavy head on her shoulder. She softly stroked the creature's broad neck and whispered into its ear.
"Hi there, beautiful. Want to paint the world red together? Whaddya say - mi Kalina?"
As if agreeing with her, the horse nudged Mara softly in the side. Love at first side, one might say.
After taking the list with the newest requirements from Leandra and pocketing them in one of her saddlebags Mara tended to Kalina. She unsaddled her, brushed her thoroughly und inspected the horseshoes before getting a bucket filled with oat. Mara gently patted her horses neck and took a deep breath. Eventually, she wished Kalina a good night and dragged her heavy feet back to camp.
The next morning Mara, Cassandra, Varric and Solas left early for Master Dennets stables. With the first rays of sun barely making their way over the mountain, Cassandra had shooed them out of their tents. The four of them had traveled together quite some time now, so that a day-to-day routine had already settled in and it didn't take long for them to be on the ready. Only a few hours later Dennets ranch came into view and Mara couldn't believe her eyes. It was not what she had expected to see. Before them ranged a wide and huge paddock with at least a dozen gorgeous Ferelden Forder, Anderfels Courter and Free Marches Rangers. Already from afar Mara could see that these horses were excellent breed, in top shape and healthy. She had to admit ungrudgingly that clearly Dennet was a master of his trade. Mara would've liked to stroll around the paddock and take a closer look at the horses but they had something more important to attend to. The small group steered her horses away from the paddock to the ranch gates. A young woman, maybe in her early twenties, with dark and weathered skin, thick dark hair and a suspicious look on her face saw them coming close and went to meet them at the gates.
"Maker be with you, strangers. Whaddaya want here?" The woman greeted them with a stoic expression on her face. Mara dismounted and outstretched her hand for a handshake.
"Maker be with you, too. My name is Mara Trevelyan and I am here in the name of the inquisition. We are looking for Master Dennet. Are you Master Dennet, by any chance?" Mara smiled fondly.
The young woman seemed taken aback but nevertheless took Maras hand with a firm grip. "Oh my, the inquisition, really? Your arrival in the Hinterlands already made it's rounds. We were wondering when you might show up." The woman shrugged. "I'm sorry to disappoint you but I'm not the master of these stables. You're looking for my father. He's up at the house." She pointed up ahead to a bigger wooden cabin uphill. "You can leave your horses with me. I will be at the stable on the left." The woman took the reins of their horses and was just about to lead them away as she stopped and turned around. "Oh, ehm, I'm sorry. Where are my manners? I'm Seanna, by the way. Ehm, so, good luck and don't be too disappointed." She gave them one last sorry look before vanishing into the stables.
"Nice meeting you, Seanna and thanks." Mara shouted back at the disappearing woman and frowned. That was kinda strange. They don't seem that much thrilled seeing us around. I wonder why? hmmm? She would found out soon enough. She sighed audibly and signaled her companions to follow her to the farmstead. After meeting Seanna, Mara wasn't so sure anymore if it would be a piece of cake to convince Master Dennet on helping them. Nevertheless, she would not yield before trying. Those magnificent horses would be a huge asset for the inquisition.
An older man was sitting on a simple wooden bench in front the house with his back to the wall and leisurely smoking his pipe. Master Dennet was about sixty summers old, his skin was wrinkled and of a warm brow color. His very short hair and well-trimmed beard were already mostly light grey. Overall, he looked kind and openhearted with his eyes closed and enjoying the rays of a late winter or early spring sun. As he noticed them approaching he opened his eyes with a heavy sight, stood up cumbersomely and knocked out his pipe.
"So you're the inquisition, eh?" The old man grumbled.
Although it was a question, it sounded more like a statement. Before Mara or anyone of the others could answer, Master Dennet gestured them to follow him inside the house. Once behind closed doors, Mara set for an introduction but Dennet left her no time to talk.
"Listen inquisition. I already know what you are here for. You're looking for mounts." He paused dramatically. "My answer is No. I can't just give you hundreds of the finest horses in Ferelden down the road like you'd send a letter. Every bandit in the Hinterlands would be on them like flies on crap. Look, I do not doubt your noble motives but those horses are my life and that of my family. They're our means of existence. Times are already bad as they are 'cus of this damn war. So pardon me for not being able to just give 'em away. I already have given enough." The last part he muttered more to himself but Mara heard it nonetheless. Dennet then turned his back on them, signaling them that this conversation was over and that they could now leave.
"Well then Master Dennet, we're terribly sorry for interrupting your very busy day. If you change your mind, we are staying close by." Varric said from his position near the door. Obviously, he thought it best to adjourn the matter and rethink their possibilities instead of wasting time. She looked over to Cassandra who had taken a step closer. The seeker looked utterly annoyed and was clearly in a bad mood. Mara knew that she needed to do or say something before the seeker could word her protests. Furthermore, she would not let the horse master from the hook that easy. She still was a Trevelyan and now was the time to use this to her advance.
"I... Well, I can understand why you won't part with your animals. They are all beautiful and marvelous creatures. It would be inexcusable if they ended up as a cold winter's breakfast for those thugs. I wouldn't want that either." Mara consented. Cassandra and Varric looked at her quizzically whereas Dennet slowly turned around with crossed arms and one eyebrow raised as if he wanted to say Now I'm curious Mara cleared her throat somewhat abashed.
"I mean, I already had the chance to take a look at your breed while riding past your paddocks. I particularly noticed your Ferelden Forder. Truly amazing creatures. They have a strong neck, and their throat letch isn't too dominant. Their withers are well developed, too. All together good indicators for fast and also sturdy mounts - and that's not all. One can see that your horses are tended to with great diligence, the best care and a lot of love. Their fur gleamed in the sun and it looked clean and smooth. Allow me to ask; what do you feed them that makes the color of the fur that intense and healthy? Is it barley, oat or maybe a mixture of both?"
Mara felt giddy and tense both at the same time. She didn't need to feign interest - everyone who knew a thing or two about horses could see that Denntes mounts were top-notch. She really was fascinated of Denntes great work. She grew up on a horse ranch and therefore knew such great animals needed to be honored. And if her enthusiasm could convince Dennet to help them, the better.
My, my, inquisition! Who would've thought that you know so much about horses? If you really must know it, I feed oats, hey with herbs and if possible fresh vegetables like carrots or apples. But you must be careful not to..."
"By the Maker, really Herold? We don't have time for this. Urgh" Cassandra cut Dennets words short and she sounded really annoyed and impatient.
Mara blinked two times at her companion, startled by her sudden outburst before she could regain her senses. "Cassandra, I can understand that you are stressed." She leaned in closer and whispered to the Seeker. "Trust me, I have an idea how we get the horses and the stable master. The Travelyans own the best stables and horses in the Free Marches and are prized breeders for I-don't-know-how-much generations. If I can convince Dennet that his horses won't lack anything and that the family and stable hands will be employed and paid, he should be open-minded enough to join us."
"Hah, there you go Seeker. Relax and let the lass do her thing." Varric laughed, standing close enough to listen in on the whispered conversation. Varric loved pulling Cassandras leg but Mara feared that she someday would accidentally rip off his head for it. Solas, as always, just watched the whole show attentively with his wise eyes while leaning against the wooden wall with his arms crossed. He had barely spoken a word the whole time, until now. "Herold, if you mind? On our way here, I noticed something interesting on top of one of the hills. It might be an ancient Tevinter relict, an astrarium I think."
Mara took a deep breath and thanked the maker for Solas quick wit. "Sounds good. If it really is an astratrium we should check it out and by 'we', I mean you. Aaaand it would be best to take Cassandra and Varric with you. Just in case, there are any bandits, templars or mages roaming the vicinity. You know, same old, same old. I'll wait here for you, ey?" She gave them a lopsided smile and hastily shooed them out of the house before Cassandra could strike her down like a lightning bolt. The seeker was a good and trustful person and kind of a friend but also short-tempered and a bit scary (especially if Varric poked her patience). There were situation in which that combination was more than helpful, but now wasn't one. As soon as Mara closed the door behind her companions she turned around and gave Dennet an apologetic smile.
I'm terribly sorry. The Seeker's a bit stressed lately but she means well. So, where have we been? I'm itching to hear more about your work."
"You' a Trevelyan? Look at that. Should've seen it earlier, huh." The old man eyed her suspiciously and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
"Oh, so you heard that. Well you certainly have damn good ears old man. I take it you've heard all of it?" Maras smile faded and she watched Dennet with a stoic expression. Her voice was no longer playful but plain business.
Seconds passed by until Dennet suddenly relaxed and laughed. A deep, husky and wholeheartedly laugh. That was a reaction, Mara did not expect but she tried not to let her confusion show. "Ha! Don't gimme that face, inquisition. I'm not holding that against you. I must say, you're tenacious and it could've worked."
Could have? Great. So much for my plan. Well done Mara. She thought grimly. Wait a moment. My plan COULD HAVE WORKED. COULD not DIDN'T! That means he CAN BE convinced.
"So I assume - and please correct me if I'm wrong - you are not entirely against helping us?" Mara said carefully.
A sarcastic smile ghosted over Dennets face. "That depends on you, inquisition."
"That's something. Master Dennet, not only the inquisition and I would owe you great deal. You would do whole Ferelden a great service and thus, shall be rewarded generously if you decide to join us. I'll make it my personal duty to ensure that your horses receive the treatment they deserve - all under your supervision, of course. You, as well as your family and workers, would be provided with shelter, food and resources and..."
"Fine, fine, you said your part. Maker, it really seems you desperate need my help, ey?" Dennet interrupted her. He sighed, "Let's say I consider your generous offer, still I cannot leave the Hinterlands. At least not as things stand right now."
"Why is that?"
Listen, inquisition. Even if I come with you, I can't bring my family. I don't want to endanger them only because it seemed that they would've joined a side in this damn war. And I'm not given up on my stables here in the Hinterlands either. There are still people here that need us close by and this is our home." Dennet paused and gave Mara a firm look. "But I will help you with your mounts and the inquisition may have some of mine. That is only IF you can make sure that my family is safe as long as I'm away. Lately there have been more and more ambushes by those fucking bandits and as if that wasn't enough the wolves have gone mad and are attacking our farmers and their flock. Handle that and you'll get my support."
Mara jumped for joy inside but she had to play it cool in front of Dennet. She had to show that she took the matter serious and she had to stay composed. After all, she was or was believed to be the Herald of Andraste, public face of the new inquisition. "Ay Master Dennet. The inquisition will do all in their might to take care of that matters - I will do all I can to make this area safer, make sure that the people, your family stays safe. You have my word."
She reached out her hand and gave Dennet a firm look. The old man hesitated a second and considered Mara with small eyes as if he was gauging her seriousness. After what felt like hours Dennets face finally gave in and firmly shook her hand. "Ha. Good, you cut yourself a deal and I'll hold you to your word." He shook his head and snorted in disbelief of himself agreeing. "Ha. You are one stubborn kid, y' know - just like the old man William was."
Thank you Master Dennet for giving us the chance to make a difference out there. You'll see what we will be able to accomplish once... Wait, what? You knew gramps?
see also: ao3_master of horses
german text: ao3_Meister der Pferde
Arrived at the Hinterlands and joined forces with scout Harding at the reconciled inquisition camp. Encountered no mayor issues along the way.
After suppressing small bands of rebel mages, bandits and scattered Templars we were able to pacify the cross roads as planned. Mother Giselle is well alive and agreed on supporting our course given the inquisition maintains order and grants aid to those who seek it. She set off early this morning; approximated time of arrival at Haven will be a day after your recievement of this correspondence.
Stationed some of our troops as means of security and protection. They have been instructed to aid the refugees and repel attackers on sight. So far, the position may be hold. It is safe to assume that more refugees will arrive within the next days. We will try to help as best as we can with warm clothing, some blankets and any food we were able to forage in the forests and from abandoned farmsteads. Unfortunately, in pursuing our more pressing objectives we cannot afford the time any longer. Therefore, I recommend the provisioning of further supplementary means as well as more soldiers and hands.
Will make camp near Master Dennet's the upcoming day, though attacks from scattered troops both mages and Templars are estimated.
Report will be sent as soon as possible.
Signed
Mara Trevelyan of the Inquisition
"Trés bien! I have to say our Herold is doing solid and promising work - although her reports are capable of development."
Cullen agreed with Lelianas appraisal. Lady Marianna Trevelyan already had become an invaluable member of their ranks only few days after the inquisition has been proclaimed and she had been announced the Herold of Andraste. Although it was obvious that she was not very fond of the newly acquired title it seemed she came to terms with the situation. Iif not, she at least seemed determined to measure up to the expectations everybody put on her. So far, she didn't disappoint. It took her only a day to procure the required supplies for the troops, gather a whole wicker basket full of elfroot and recover the alchemical recipes Adan had been searching for. And by the by locating a sufficient lumbering spot close to the village. Quite remarkable considering she must've still been exhausted and weakened given her still healing injuries but also concerning seeing that she had not allowed herself the time to take a breather. But to be honest, since the conclave none of them had.
The day Lady Trevelyan regained consciousness had been the day Cassandra had reinstated the inquisition of old - very much to chancellor Rodericks chagrin. The survivors and people of Haven had extoled her to Herold of Andraste - to even bigger chagrin of the dear chancellor. Said chancellor had become the personification of Cullens headaches: an annoying nuisance that tend to appear exactly when you need it the least. And as if Roderick wasn't an aggravating fellow by himself, he also was the sole reason as to why the inquisitions options of action were limited right now. Because of him the church saw the inquisition as sacrilegious and denounced the organization and more so the Herold of Andraste openly. This man was like a tedious pebble stuck in your shoe, constantly pinching you every little step you take.
Cullen sighed silently. I hope that mother Giselle might be able to help us out with our chantry problematic.
As long as the chantry made sure that the inquisitions hands were bound and that distrust would spread under the people they would not be able to gain the support they would need to succeed in their endeavor. They would need the help of the Templars and the mages for this to work or at least they would need the two parties to stop that damn civil war. Mages and Templars? It was very unlikely that they would get both parties to aid the inquisition. Even if so, that task would take some time. Time the inquisition could not afford to lose. Maybe they would be able to convince one of the groups in time? But which one? Mages or Templars, Templars or Mages? Cullen hoped they could try his former brothers and sisters. Not because he did not trust the mages but he simply had seen too much of the misery a mage gone wild causes - First the blight and Kinloch, then the chaos in Kirkwall and now the civil war. He had lived through it and he was not going to live through it ever again. Gathering too much of magical potential under their banner would mean to put up with a heightened risk of uncontrollable outbursts of magic. That was something they would not be able to handle and Cullen didn't want to imagine the terrible aftermath. Only thinking of the idea of it made Cullens temples throb painfully. Cullen sighed annoyed and furrowed his brows while he tried to shift his focus back to Trevelyans report. The discussion about which side they should approach was something he was not looking forward to but a discussion that had to happen eventually.
"I will send corporal Vale along with a dozen recruits. That should suffice. I will see to it that they will be ready." Cullen said.
Leliana gave an approving nod to Cullen while moving the little woodchips and people around the maps that represented their troops. "Bien. Some of my agents should accompany them. They can scout the area beforehand and support the Herold with crucial updates on any potential dangers."
And to keep an eye on our Herold, good.Cullen added in his mind.
I was fortunate that Leliana controlled such an outstanding network of scouts and informants and spies. It supplied the inquisition with crucial information and knowledge. Knowledge that granted a daunting power to the spymaster, one that she knew to wield as precise as a surgeon does his scalpel. It made her the most essential but also most dangerous person in the whole inquisition, Thedas even. Despite their differences, Cullen thanked the Maker that Leliana was on their side.
Today's meeting thankfully had been short and thus Cullen made his way to find his second in command right away. He and Rylen would need to pick the recruits for the mission in the Hinterlands, plan routes and coordinate things with corporal Vale who would be going as well. Furthermore, he and Rylen would need to find a quick solution for the lack in personal and thus unattended duties here at Haven. It would be a pain in the neck - they would need to improvise a lot and make some amends, but Cullen was almost sure they could work something out.
On his way down from the chantry to the troop camp, Cullen thoughts began to wander. He thought about their plan for the Hinterlands, which recruits they could spare and the work the Herold needed them to aid her with. The Herold of Andraste, Marianna Trevelyan was quite busy making the new inquisition known throughout Ferelden. She made good progress but there was still a lot to do and Cullen could not shake the nagging feeling of worry. He worried about Lady Trevelyan. He worried about her and for her. There was a lot of pressure resting on all of them but on her the most and he was not entirely sure if she would be able to handle it.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
She did look so tired.Cullen remembered.
Before his inner eye the image of Lady Trevelyan appeared. Before her final departure to the Hinterlands the three of them gathered one more time to discuss the final details. The warm orange light of the torches and braziers filtered through the windowless room and got caught on her armor. The reflections danced over the smooth surfaces and bathed her pale face ith a warm shimmer. While she and Cassandra were bent over the cards and planed their route, Cullen took the rare chance to take a closer look at the Herold. Lady Trevelyan was about one head shorter then him, maybe about 5'7''. She had changed the armor she had been wearing during the fight at the Breach into a slightly different set: instead of the short breastplate, she wore a hip long chain vest with a slim, dark green tabard that was embroidered with the symbol of the inquisition. To protect her shoulders she wore metal pauldrons whereas her legs and arm were stripped in thick, dark brown leather vembraces with metal bracing. The same also applied to her gauntlets. Judging by everything Cullen noticed during the time he actually saw her fighting, combined with her choice of armor and weaponry - a left-handed elongated dagger and a more slender sword - he knew her fighting stile to be more focused on agility and speed rather than strength and more on offense rather than on defense. Her long and wavy raven hair was loosely collected in a sloppy bun and here and there strands of hair escaped and dangled in front of her face. Very much to Lady Trevelyans annoyance. She had tried to tame her wild locks countless time by tucking them behind her ears - no avail - until she repeatedly resigned to her fate. Looking at her face Cullen could see dark circles underneath her eyes and her skin looked pale even in the warm torchlight and here and there you could see bruises and grazes that hadn't healed yet. By the looks of her she still must've been pretty exhausted and Cullen hadn't been and still wasn't sure if she would be fit enough for the mission in the Hinterlands. Ultimately, it had been her own decision to depart as soon as possible and Cullen hated to admit it but they couldn't effort to lose too much time.
It's bad if she already or still is that worn out. We need her assistance to close the rifts AND of cause the Breach but if she collapses before all that, what then...
Cullen had been so lost in thought that he hadn't realized that he was still staring at Lady Trevelyan until she looked up from the cards and their gazes met.
Makers breath ... these eyes.
His breath was stuck in Cullens throat. Her emerald green eyes bored into his with a sparkling so intense it literally suckerpunched him out of his boots. Nothing of the tiredness he had seen was reflected in her gaze; instead, it was clear, focused and full with anticipation. Like a child on the eve of Satinalia which can't wait to unwrap her gifts. The hint of a genuine smile flitted over his lips while his transfixed eyes stayed glued to hers. A pleasant warm feeling pooled in his stomach and slowly began spreading across his body and suddenly all his concerns just seemed to vanish.
"Good. If that's all I think we shall take off at once... Commander?" Her intense gaze remained on him and she winked at him.
Caught off guard Cullen could feel his cheeks reddening. He cleared his throat somewhat embarrassed about his behavior. "Uhm, yes... That should be everything. Your horses should be ready for your departure already."
She nodded and he thought he saw her cheeks coloring as well but she broke eye contact before he could have been sure. "Thank you then. Sister Leliana, ambassadress Montilyet, wish us luck." She turned around and invitingly laid her hand on the Seekers shoulder. "Cassandra, we shouldn't keep the other waiting any longer." Cassandra just nodded grimly while Lady Trevelyan made her way for the door out of the war room. Though the Seeker was about to go after her, she stopped one last time and turned back to the others. "I will make sure you stay updated regularly." She paused and her eyes wandered to the empty doorframe before she continued. "And I will keep an eye on our Herold. May the Maker be with us." With these words Cassandra took her leave as well. She had seemed to be concerned as well.
"What do you think of our Herold so far?" Josephine asked him and Leliana hopefully.
"I think Lady Trevelyan is willed to do everything in her powers to support our course. As things stand right now, I think we can't afford to not grant her some of our trust." Lelianas words had been chosen with care and as always contained a subliminal message.
"Trust is a huge word. No one of us really knows this woman. But you are right sister nightingale, at the moment we depend on her collaboration. I wholeheartedly hope your confidence won't be blighted, Sister." Cullen said while rubbing his temples.
Lady Trevelyan, who had been chained and convicted by us, without hesitation threw herself against hordes of demons to fight alongside and for our soldiers. Her selfless behavior saved the lives of many of our people - yours as well, if I recall correctly. And considering everything we know about the recent events so far, it is safe to assume that she had tried to help the Divine Justinia as well. Seeing that she is the only survivor of the explosion and factoring the sighting upon her emersion that had been reported by our men - maybe Andraste really saved her for a greater purpose. Who are we to oppugn that judgement?"
"I agree with Sister Leliana." Josephine nodded in agreement. Her voice was warm and her face showed a confident smile. "Her heart is in the right place and most of our people respect her greatly already. Her ambitions are candid and I'm confident that she won't disappoint us."
Cullen sighed deeply and barely noticeable rolled his eyes. "I don't doubt that. She is self-sacrificing and dedicated but also foolhardy and overambitious. I fear she is going to overdo it and break down or run head-over-heel into her downfall - and take us down with her." He took a deep breath and slowly shook his head. "It's a good thing she has Cassandra watching over her."
Lelianas piercing blue eyes watched him closely although her gaze told nothing about what the spymaster had been thinking. At the end, she only smiled at him. "Time will show - if it's the Makers will."
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Cullens thoughts returned to the here and now the moment he arrived at the training grounds and Ser Rylen.
Time will show. Sure. However, that does not mean that we should trust blindly just because we have to. We have to move on with care - step by step.
Herold of Andraste! Gosh! All this attention may be quite nice but a simple "Thanks" and a few grateful words like "Hey Mara, sorry for jumping to conclusions and treating you like a dangerous criminal because we thought you had killed Most Holy. Let's just forget all about it and try again." or something like that would have been enough. But making me a Herold, a blessed legate of Andraste at that? That's jumping to conclusions all over again and for so many reasons simply wrong.
It had been a long day at Haven. After awaking from her second blackout in less than a week, Mara barely had the time to relax and prepare herself for what was about to happen. At first she felt disoriented and her head was spinning but it was a much more pleasant awakening than in the dungeons underneath the chantry: no hard and cold cobblestone, no bars and no shackles but instead a comfortable bed in a warm and cozy shed, a much to big linen shirt and again, no shackles. It seemed Cassandra and the others no longer saw her the culprit behind the conclave. That was a massive relief. But what now?
Still tired and exhausted Mara thought it best to get out of bed, find out what had happened, and what the recent plan was. The moment she lifted herself up a sharp and stinging pain coursed through her body. With a groan and her face contorted in pain, she slumped back into the mattress. Breathing heavy and with her face buried in the pillow, she waited until the pain had faded before she tried again to get out of bed. This time she approached more careful. She rolled herself on her left side, slipped her legs from under the thin blanked and over the side of the bed until she could feel the wooden planks of the floor underneath her naked feet. She took a deep breath and held it, her lips firmly pressed together. Next she warily pushed herself into a sitting position. Still she could feel the searing and stinging of her back together with an overall soreness of her body. She grimaced and cursed the maker for her bad luck, startling the person she hadn't noticed until now who was in her room with her. A young elven woman in simple clothing had come into her shed to bring food and water as well as a pan with balm and a familiar vial with a red liquid. The unexpected racket almost caused the woman to drop the tray she was holding but she managed to secure it on the desk right before dropping everything.
"Ou..Ohh... I... I didn't know you were awake. I... I swear." her thin voice stuttered.
With big eyes, she hasty bowed to Mara - bowed! - and with a frightened look on her face excused herself over and over again, taking little nervous steps backwards, slowly retrieving herself out of the chamber. Mara was confused and honestly could not quite comprehend what was going on.
Who is she? Why is she acting so scared? Is she scared because of me? What have I done this time? Do they still think I'm a mass murderer? Nooooo, not unless they recently changed the way they proceed with prisoners and switched from moist and unfriendly chantry basement to cozy and warm bedroom... Wait a moment, where am I? Am I still in Haven? Is she a servant? Why did they give me a servant? Did they know who I am? Do they feel the need to treat me with comfort because they think I'm a highty-tighty brat that would be offended if they don't? What is going on here? Urgh... my head hurts.
Mara groaned and rubbed her face with her hands. She wanted to know what had happened, if they had done it or if something went wrong? I mean, there must've been something gone wrong, why else am I still here? She let her hands drop to the mattress and watched alarmed as the elven woman set about swiftly leaving Mara alone again. The woman still looked at Mara like a freaked out nug in a cave full of wolves. Maybe it's better she leaves. Whatever she thinks of me, I certainly don't want to give her a heart attack... Fuck... but she must know something, otherwise she would not try and flee from me.
"Wait. I didn't mean to frighten you. Please, don't go. Can you tell me what happened? The Breach? Did we close it?" Maras voice was raspy and weak and her mouth felt dry. She sounded imploring but she wanted answers and Mara didn't want to intimidate the poor girl to get them. Nevertheless, the elven woman neither talked nor stayed. She left the cabin in a haste in which she nearly stumbled into the open doorframe - all while mumbling excuses and something about informing the Seeker.
Mara sighed - Alone again and none the wiser. She was just sitting on the edge of her bed and trying to make sense of all the things that had happened when a deep growl from her stomach startled her. With that, she realized just how famished and thirsty she really was. The last time she remembered having a good and fulfilling meal had been the night they had arrived at the conclave and that was what - three days ago, four days ago? The conclave - just thinking of it made Maras chest constrict painfully out of sadness. Harris, Liam, Killian and even her aunt and cousin - their loss left an empty space in her life. A space that once granted laughter, companionship, trust and some kind of belonging now was filled with loneliness, hurt, guilt and anger. A dangerous combination of feelings that together become a demon; a kraken whose poisonous tentacles would slowly wrap around your thoughts until they completely engulf them - strangling them until the last drop of anything good is squeezed out and your soul is dragged down in an ocean of endless blackness. Once, Mara had went down that vortex of self-destruction that had nearly crushed her.
At her lowest point along the path down and with everything that had happened in her past, she finally had realized that there were people in this world that care about her, people who needed her, people who she needed and cared about. People that were worth fighting for. That had been, when she saw clear for the first time in a long time. She had become painfully aware that she needed things to change. Otherwise, she wouldn't be able to change and to stop the hurting. Truth be told, her way back to being whole again had been long and hard but she had pushed through - for herself, for her family and for Marcus. Although she may have healed from these wounds, Mara knew that she would never be the woman she had been before. If that meant for better or worse she couldn't tell but she surely was determined to never give up on herself again. Still, her soul would always wear deep scars - reminders for her to never let the kraken come out again and a motivation to keep becoming a better version of herself.
She worked herself back, began a new chapter in her life and wanted it to be better than her past. To be fair, Mara thought that by now she and Marcus would be together, making a new beginning for them somewhere that was not the Free Marches - Anderfels maybe or Rivain. But as it seemed, the Maker had other plans for her new life. What those plans were, she could only start guessing but whatever he needed her to do, he intended to not sacrifice his little pawn - not yet at least. Sure, she had been ready to die at the breach but she didn't want to. She wanted to live, to be there for the people who need her, who care about her and vice versa.
Mara smiled to herself awkwardly and thought about Marcus' reaction if she would have died at the temple. She imagined him standing in front of her lifeless body, stomping up and down and threaten her to search whole of the fade to find her soul, give her a heartfelt rundown and annoy her until she gets back to life just to stop his rambling. He could be hell a piece of work if he wanted to. If he would see her letting herself down she would never hear the end of it. Still smiling, she determinedly shook her head and clapped both her hand on her thighs while getting up from the bed with renewed spirit.
With still a bit unsteady feet, she stumbled across the small chamber to sit at the table on which the elven girl deposited the tray with food and medicine. Seeing the simple meal in front of her, her stomach rumbled again impatiently and with greedy fingers Mara ungracefully gorged down the steaming stew together with the bread. It was fascinating how such a simple thing as bread and a thin soup with some unidentifiable pieces of something could taste better than the finest Orlesian banquet if you're just famished enough. The whole bowl of stew and the bread was gone in under 5 minutes and Mara greedily drained the offered canteen of water. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and sat silently on the chair while looking around the room. The furniture looked simple but sturdy, nothing extraordinary. The shed had most likely belonged to a worker or farmhand because there were crates and boxes with different tools and materials and most of the stuff showed heavy signs of usage. The shed had no fireside build in but at the foot of the bed stood a brazier whose contents provided warmth for the small chamber. Scattered around on every surface were little trinkets, dishes and other daily usage items. Whomever this house had belonged to, this person had made himself or herself a home that now has been invaded by an intruder. Mara felt bad for the person that had to give up their home, so that she could have a place to rest. No one should be kicked out of his own house because of her. Although, Mara would be good with it if she'd known that said person would be granted better accommodations. But she highly doubted that this had been the case. What if the person whose home she occupied had been one of the victims of the conclave or the events thereafter? Well, then there surely would be other people who would need a place like this more urgently than her. Mara felt like she didn't deserve all these amenities, even if she'd managed to close the breach.
THE BREACH, damn! I need to know. I have to find Cassandra. She can tell me what's going on and what happened.
Mara took a deep breath, nodded to herself and decisively smacked her hand on her thighs. She forced herself to get on her feet and jolted up from the chair. With the motion came a rush of pain that coursed through her body, her muscles tensed and she had to support herself on the table before stumbling back into the chair. She cursed under her breath. Her body just had to remind her of her missteps every time she intended to move, while being completely content with its condition as long as she remained still. How was she supposed to get anything done already when she wasn't even able to walk properly?
Her head hung low and dark strands of her unkempt hair fell in front of her face. She pressed her eyes shut to force back a sudden rush of desperate tears before angrily shaking her head and biting her lip. She was angry with herself for letting desperation and pain both physical and mental getting back at her. She had to be better than that. She was a strong woman, a fighter and she would push through the day. If she could manage that, the upcoming day would be a bit easier. Slowly she opened her eyes and her gaze fell upon the vial with the shining red liquid in it. She had totally forgotten about the potion the woman had brought. She let out a relieved sigh.
Thank the Maker for elfroot and healing potions. That certainly will make things a lot easier.
She was thankful for the potion and hastily chucked it down. Almost immediately, she could feel a familiar warmth engulfing her, making her body tingle all over. She could feel a bit of strength crawling back into her sore flesh and she felt more confident, that she could actually get through the day without collapsing.
Slowly Mara straightened herself, feeling the muscles in her back stretch, tense and ache uncomfortably. She groaned and ignored the aching as best as she could. She looked around in the room, searching for something to wear. After all, she could barely walk out of the shed with nothing more on her body than that plain nightgown she wore. At first glance, she couldn't find any clothing or armor laying around but eventually her eyes landed upon a small travel chest next to the table. She carefully bend down to open the chest. It was not locked and after opening the lid, Mara found what she was searching for. In the chest were some linen shirts, woolen trousers, socks, underwear and other basic clothing. She scooped up the clothes and while taking them out her hands touched a smooth and frim surface. Withdrawing her hand from the box it snagged on something metallic - a clasp or buckle. Her eyes widened with the realization of what might be hidden underneath the fabrics. She kneeled before the chest and unceremoniously threw the shirt, trousers and the other stuff aside to reach the bottom of the chest. She cheered internally as she took out her own leather and metal armor - cleaned, repaired and polished, looking almost as good as new. With a groan, Mara got up, turned around and placed the familiar armor parts on top of the bed. Careful, almost reverently she retraced the outlines of her family crest with the fingers of her glowing hand and marveled for a moment how the green and bright light danced across the shining metal.
As she withdrew her hand, she stared at the mark in her hand. She just watched as the tendrils of bright green energy almost drowsily emerged from her palm and swirled around her hand in lazy circles. There was no thought crossing her mind, no emotions bubbling in her chest but one that lurked in the depth... Mara knitted her brows together and clenched her hand to a fist. She took a deep, deep breath and exhaled slowly through her nose. There was no time to dwell on things that gnawed at her conscious but instead focus back to the more pressing things like the Conclave and what had happened at the Breach.
And with that she stepped out of the nightgown and tossed it over the back of the chair, revealing the bandages that covered her whole upper body. For a brief moment, Mara thought about removing them but they looked relatively fresh and clean and didn't smell funny and she was not sure if she would be able to tend to her wounds herself once the bandages were gone. She didn't even know how bad her injuries were. So she decided to leave the bandages be and just clean the rest of body. The water in the washbasin was clear and damn cold and due to her wounds, she wasn't able to wash everywhere so thoroughly as she would've liked to but that couldn't be changed. A quick sniff of her body ensured her that she didn't smell nasty and Mara was fine with that. Then came the tricky part - she had to somehow get into her armor. Thanks to the bandages and all her injuries, her flexibility and reach were extremely limited. That meant she had to be very careful not to hurt herself even more or reopen already healed wounds. She worked slowly and it took her some time to get into everything but after a couple five minutes, she was fully dressed. Well, not fully dressed per se. One part, a crucial part was missing. She searched the chest and every corner of the room thoroughly but her swords were nowhere to be found. It was strange but being a soldier for the best parts of her entire live made her feel exposed without them, petty even because her weapons were a part of who and what she was.
Mara was a little bit frustrated about her situation and she was torn about her next steps. She could just stay in the chamber and wait if that servant would come back with Cassandra or if she would come back to fetch her. Or, she could take things in her own hands and go out and find out for herself what had happened. In addition, maybe get her swords back or at least some weapons. That meant if they would allow her to carry any weapons at all. While debating with herself what she should be doing she glowered down at the table but didn't really look at anything in particular. She crossed her arms in front of her and absentmindly nibbled at her bottom lip. An unconscious and annoying tick she couldn't really get rid of.
Eventually she decided she needed to move. First thing she would do was finding the Seeker and gather some information. Then she would need to find out where to get some swords - maybe there was a blacksmith or a trader? By then she surely would know if she would've to stay or if they would let her go her merry way. Although she doubted she would be able to leave Haven any time soon. There was still this strange mark in her hand that she knew next to nothing about and so far, this Solas seemed to be the only one who at least knew something. Maybe he could tell her how to get rid of it, if that was even a possibility. But what if Solas couldn't or won't help her?
Markus is a healer and he is damn smart. Maybe he would be able to find a cure? Hah, yet another reason why I should try to find him... Okay then, lets face the day!
With newfound determination, Mara crossed the room of the small cabin and pulled the door open. For a brief moment the bright morning sun blinded her and her ears started ringing from the noise of dozens of voices yelling all at once. The moment her vision cleared and her brain was able to process the impressions Mara nearly stumbled backwards. The large crowd of people standing in front of her, cheering and hailing her, applauding her and praising her as the Herold of Andraste, took her aback.
What the actual fuck? Is it too late to turn around and hide out in the shed? They couldn't possibly mean me, could they? Maybe I'm having a nightmare?
But it was not a dream. The people of Haven, workers, soldiers, and farmers alike stood there and celebrated her and all she could do was staring at them dumbfounded.
Are these people serious? First, they want my head for supposedly killing Most Holy and now they're praising my name like a hero? Wow, unbelievable. Well, I guess it could've been worse.
Mara felt overwhelmed but since she couldn't just turn around, the only way she could be going was forward. She straightened her back and put on what she hoped was a confident smile as she took the steps down from the porch towards the crowd. She didn't know what to expect but was relieved when the people stepped aside to let her pass through. To say that it felt strange walking in between the two rows that had formed was an understatement. In reality, Mara wasn't sure how she should feel about this. On one hand, she was glad that everyone around her was happy because that meant that they had accomplished at least something of worth at the breach. On the other hand, she felt miserable. They were celebrating her when she didn't feel like deserving this honor. All she did was being the unlucky soul that happened to carry the mark - and that not even by choice. So many others had fought at the temple that day. They should be the ones whose names should be praised. They should honor the soldiers, Cassandra, Leliana and the Commander, not her.
If she could find Cassandra, maybe she could tell her what this Herold of Andraste thing was all about and how to set it right. Therefore, she still had to find the Seeker. Mara hoped that Cassandra would be at the chantry because the passageway of people led her directly in front of its solid wooden doors.
What had happened next was something Mara never would've guessed. Stepping into the building, Mara immediately was welcomed by the warmth of the many lit braziers. She closed the heavy doors behind her and was nearly hit with solitude and pleasant silence. Well, almost silence. The hall was empty of people but still she could her a distant voice echoing from the high walls.
"Have you gone completely mad?" The voice was muffled but one could hear that the speaker was angry. Mara thought she might've heard that man's voice before, not long ago.
Wait, isn't that this unfriendly Chancellor? What was his name again? Robert? No. Ro..., Ro..., Roderick! Yes, Chancellor Roderik was it. Oh damn me, ain't I lucky?
"She should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately, to be tried by whomever becomes Devine!" By now Mara had reached the door from behind which the voice emerged and stopped. She wanted to know what else Roderick had to say about her, because clearly he had been talking about her before.
The next person to speak was not him but clearly the woman Mara had been looking for. "I do not believe she is guilty." Hearing Cassandra saying that, felt like a weight was lifted from Maras shoulders.
"The prisoner failed, Seeker. The Breach is still in the sky. For all you know, she intended it this way." If Mara disliked the cleric before, now she despised him. Who does he think he is?
"I do NOT believe that." Cassandras muffled voice held nothing but conviction.
Apparently, the Chancellor did not agree but his rising anger only pleased Mara even more. "That is not for you to decide. Your duty is to serve the chantry and... "
Cassandra won't let him finish and cut him off mid-sentence. "My duty is to serve the principles on which the chantry was founded, Chancellor. As is yours."
With that, Mara decided that she'd heard enough. She pushed the door open without giving to so much as a knock.
The moment the door flew open the conversation stopped and all eyes were on her. The two guards near the entrance stiffened but Cassandra signaled them to stand down. Mara was furious but she swallowed her emotions as best as she could - modest in temper, bold in deed. She quickly scanned the room. Besides Cassandra, Roderick and the guards there was only one other person present and that was Leliana. They were gathered around a single table in an otherwise pretty empty room.
Deliberately Mara turned around and closed the door carefully before stepping further into the room. She stopped at the table and crossed her arms behind her back. Still nobody said a word; everyone was waiting for her to say something. Before speaking up, Mara purposefully looked everyone of them into the eyes. Rodericks face was contorted with disgust while Cassandra seemed to be something between relieved and annoyed. Lelilana just looked indifferent or maybe a bit amused if that barely visible smile was something to go on by.
"Please excuse my brisk interruption. I couldn't help but overhear your conversation and found it disrespectful to listen in from behind closed doors. So, Chancellor Roderick it is, right? You were saying something about me being guilty and bringing me to Val Royeaux? Would you mind and say that to my face again?" While Maras voice sounded genuine, it was underlayed with a challenge and a warning.
And it had the desired effect. The Chancellors face turned the color of a tomato and his hand quivered with anger as he pointed at her. Addressing the guards his voice nearly tripped "Chain her! I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial!"
Mara didn't move an inch and just smiled at Roderick while Cassandra stepped in, stopping the guards from arresting Mara. "Disregard that and leave us!" The guards nodded and obliged. Mara was glad that her assumption that the Chancellor has no legit command over Havens troops was right and that Cassandra was true to her word and really believed her innocent.
"You walk a dangerous line, Seeker." Roderick growled at Cassandra but she just shrugged it off. "The Breach is stable for now, but it remains a threat. To diminish it has to be our priority. I will not ignore it."
This was the first time today that Mara actually heard something about the Breach. On her way to the chantry, she saw it still hanging up in the sky although it seemed much calmer then when she first had seen it. To hear now, that it still is a threat although less imminent and that she failed on closing it completely was a huge bummer - to put it mildly.
She let her head hang low and spoke with a low voice. "I did everything I could to close the Breach and I don't know what went wrong but I assure you I won't fail again. So many good men and women gave their lives that day and I don't want their sacrifice to be for naught. Even if it almost had killed me."
"Pah. Yet you live. A convenient result, insofar as you're concerned." Of course, Roderick still was furious but at this point Mara didn't give a shit about what he was thinking.
"Have a care Chancellor. The Breach is not the only threat we're facing." Cassandra chimed in.
Next, Lelianas melodic voice piped up. "Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others - or have allies who yet live." The redhead eyed the cleric suspiciously. There was a pause and everyone's focus fell upon Roderick whose eyes widened in indignation.
"I am suspect?" The Chancellor looked like someone had slapped him with a wet cloth right into his face. Mara had to suppress the grin that was forming on her face. She stole a glance at Leliana and for a moment, she thought she could see something similar to satisfaction crossing the woman's pale face.
"You and many others." Lelianas voice was calm and lacked any tone of accusation but it was undoubtedly a warning to be careful about ones next words.
Still, Roderick challenged the redhead or simply just didn't get it. He raised his voice and nearly spat the words out. "But NOT the prisoner?"
Mara couldn't help it any longer and a satisfied grin spread across her features. Lelilana just smiled mildly at the raging gnome before of her whereas Cassandra rolled her eyes annoyed. "I heard the voices in the temple, as did many others. The Divine herself called to her for help and she answered her call. I saw fragments of what had happened and I saw the bravery and unselfishness that woman carries within her. She is NOT our culprit."
"So her survival, that THING on her hand - all coincidence?" Roderick didn't back down but he stopped yelling around - although his head still had the color of a ripe tomato.
Cassandra glared at the man in front of her. "Providence! The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour. She is the Herold of Andraste."
Maras jaw dropped. Oh no, not you too, Cassandra. Why seems everybody here to think I'm chosen by the Maker? Even if the Maker or Andraste had their hands in my survival, that doesn't mean I'm something special. It just means I'm not done with my work yet, whatever it is they want me to do... They can parade me, when I actually accomplish something.
"Maker sent or not dosn't matter. All that does is that we find a way to close the Breach permanently and find those who are responsible so that they can be brought to justice. And Seeker, I'm glad you changed your mind about me. Thank you." Mara turned to face Cassandra and bowed her head slightly in respect. She may not like the situation nor the hustle and bustle about her person but she hadn't forgotten her manners.
Cassandra just huffed and crossed her arms in front of her. "I was wrong. Perhaps I still am. I will not, however, pretend you were not exactly what we needed, when we needed it. The Maker works in mysterious ways sometimes. But enough of that. As you said, there are other important things. We need to try again and close the Breach."
The Seeker looked at Leliana who nodded in agreement. "The Breach remains and you and your mark are still our only hope of closing it."
"This is NOT for you to decide." Chancellor Roderick slapped his hands on the table and glared at Cassandra and Leliana. Mara startled, she had almost forgotten that the man was still present.
Cassandra uncrossed her arms and exhaled slowly through her nose. Mara feared that finally, her temperament had taken over and she would suckerpunsh Roderick - but no, surprisingly Cassandra just stomped away to a nearby shelf. A moment later she came back and slammed a large tome on the table. Mara stared at her confused but Rodericks eyes widened in surprise.
"Do you know what this is, Chancellor? A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act." Cassandra straightened herself and with her fingers still touching the tome she looked every one of them meaningfully into the eye. "As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn. We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible and we will restore the order. With or without your approval."
The last words were directed at the Chancellor who seemed like he was about to burst. He was ranting and raving and left without another word, slamming the door behind him and leaving the three women alone.
A that moment a thousand questions were running through Maras head but she couldn't find the words and didn't know where to start. She felt like she should say something but Leliana beat her to it. "This is the Divine's directive: rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos. We aren't ready. We have no leader, no numbers and now, no Chantry support." Her questioning gaze met with Cassandras.
The Seeker had a look of complete commitment on her face. "Yes, but we have no choice: we must act now." She rounded the table and positioned herself right in front of Mara. The tall woman laid her hand on Maras shoulder while the other rested on the pommel of her sword. Meeting Cassandras gaze Mara saw nothing but determination and hope? Somehow, Mara dared the words she expected to come and took a deep breath to ground herself.
"With you at our side. Help us fix it before it's too late." Cassandra let loose of the pommel of her sword and outstretched it toward Mara.
She just smiled and with an exasperated sigh took the offered hand. "Well, when I woke up today, I certainly didn't picture this outcome."
Just like that, the new Inquisition has been proclaimed and Mara found herself entangled in the midst of it. It has been a very long day. She stood on top of a makeshift wooden parapet that reminded her more of the raised hide of a hunter. The perch was near the worn-out stairs that led down to the lower levels of the village. From this point of view, all but in the middle of Haven, she could see almost the whole settlement. She saw the mishmash of small sheds with view simple tents in between, Adans improvised workshop, the big chantry, Segritts small stall and her own cabin in between more houses, sheds and tents. Most of the ground had been build-up with any sort of housing to accommodate all the different kind of people running around the settlement. Behind the palisades were the drill ground and tent camp of the troops, the stables and Harritts forge. She could still hear the steady clong-clong of the sledgehammer meeting the heated metal of a raw piece or armor or weaponry. The people used the space they had as best as they could although there were things Mara thought were unnecessary and the grounds could be used better otherwise. For example were there three large areas that were crammed with large crates, heavy logs and other building materials. Examining the components more precisely and considering their size, material and general layout she was very certain that these were the beginnings of war machinery - catapults or trebuchets maybe. Why would a small and secluded village like Haven need those kind of defense measures? In an explosion like the one at the Conclave, a trebuchet would be useless. However, maybe there was another purpose and Mara was only to shortsighted to see it? She should ask Cassandra about it sometimes.
Mara leaned on the wooden railing and watched the hard-working folk. Even to this late hour of day, the village was bustling with live. There were people working, talking, bringing messages, training, socializing and so on. She let her gaze strife away from the people and across the frozen lake, the snow-clad plains behind, the dense forest of fir trees and the rising hills and mountains that loomed in the distance. A cold and refreshing breeze from the Frostbacks waved down into the valley. She closed her eyes and took a deep lungful of cold winter air. Holding her face against the wind, she smiled. She enjoyed the feeling of the scattered snowflakes that landed on her cheeks, melted there, and freckled her face with tiny droplets of water.
Behind her Mara could hear the creaking of the ladder as someone climbed up the parapet but she didn't turn around to see who was coming. Instead, she listened carefully to the sounds the person behind her was making. They had a deep and gravely male voice. They groaned, cursed, and took a deep breath of relief when ultimately reaching the platform. Mara recognized the man behind that voice right after his first swearword.
"Hey kiddo, there you are. I wasn't aware that the glorious Harold of Andraste is now taking the tasks of a watchman, too?" Varrics voice was deep with a pleasant sonorous ring to it and it felt so oddly comforting to hear him talk, even though they only knew each other for like two (conscious) days.
Mara slowly opened her eyes and watched the dwarf approach. He settled next to her and leaned with his back against the railing. He groaned theatrically and underlined his incredulity with an exaggerated shake of the head. "We dwarfs aren't made for climbing or ladders or maybe I'm just too old for this shit."
Varrics sorry face and little convincing show of an old and brittle man coaxed a shy laughter from her. The dwarf answered with a satisfied grin.
"Master Tethras, to what do I owe the honor of the venerable presence of a man your age, visiting petty me at my humble watch?" Mara gave an exaggerated bow in his direction and gave him a look of complete and fake courtesy.
The small but sturdy man with his impressive display of chest hair snorted a small laugh. But before answering her question he carefully if not a bit nervously glanced around the area. Mara wasn't sure for what or whom Varric kept a lookout but it seemed like he didn't find it or them. The dwarf gestured her to come closer and lowered his voice. "Good. Now that Cassandra's nowhere to be seen, are you holding up all right, kiddo?" There was earnest concern in his tone. "I mean, you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful. Most people would have spread that out over more than a few days."
Mara leaned back at the railing and shrugged. Her gaze wandered back to the wide foothills of the mountains and stuck to the calm, greenish-gray swirling of the Breach. There was a sudden pang of guild and anger but she burrowed these emotions in the depth of her consciousness. She adverted her gaze and shifted her focus back to Varric.
"Honestly? I don't know, you tell me? This is such a fucked up mess that we're in. None of this should've happened. I mean, I don't even want to think about how many lives were lost at that mountain top and, and ..." but she was thinking of them, of their loss, the ones left behind and it made her so, so... sad and angry and desperate? It hurt and even if she knew that what had happened wasn't her fault, there still was that dark corner of her mind that housed a tiny seed of doubt. Why, why it had to be her? Why was she still alive, why was she the one marked? How was she supposed to do manage everything that was expected of her? Did destiny or the maker or Andraste choose her because they found her to be strong enough or was it just coincidence? Mara clenched her fists; all the emotions she tried to bear down fought their way back to the surface. She could feel the mark, the Anker as Solas had called it, flaring and sending small jolts of energy through her that made the veins in her arm pound and her skin prickle. The feeling was far from painful and a lot more bearable - at least physically. She pressed her eyes shut and concentrated on her breathing in an attempt to calm down.
Varric sighed deeply. "For days now, we've been staring at the Breach, watched demons and Maker-knows-What fall out of it. 'Bad for morale' would be an understatement but then, suddenly you stumbled out of it. I still can't believe anyone was in there and lived." The dwarf eyed Mara suspiciously.
She huffed, looked down at Varric and gave him a lopsided smile. "Pure luck, I guess?"
"Ha! Good luck or rather bad?" The dwarf asked quizzically
Mara grimaced with a sarcastic snort and just stared at the spiral of ominous energy in the distance. Varric didn't seem to expect an answer and so he took the word again. "You might want to consider running at the first opportunity." There was no judgement in his words; it was just a simple advice.
Maras head snapped back to the man beside her and she looked at him bewildered. Escape? Just leaving everything and everyone behind and act like not having a bearing on it? That was the last thing she could think of. If that Anker in her hand was good for anything, even if only to close the rifts, then she would be damned if she didn't use it. Although there was so much that was unclear, confusing or challenging she knew that she would not be able to leave the inquisition and the people who relied on her. She shook her head and stared the dwarf dead in the eyes.
"No, running is not an option. I'll stay and do what I can to help all those people. That's the least I owe them." She made a pause and together they took a moment to watch the inhabitants of Haven go on with their daily lives. Then she looked back at Varric, eyes drawn together in confusion. "Why are you still here, Master Tethras? I mean, why did you stay with the inquisition? Cassandra said you were free to go."
"I like to think I'm as selfish and irresponsible as the next guy, but this... You said it before. Thousands of people died on that mountain. I was almost one of them. And there's still a hole in the sky. Even I can't walk away and just leave that to sort itself out."
Ha. Who would've thought - It's the same for him.
Varric let out a tired sigh and both of them just watched each other for a second. They both had the feeling that this newborn inquisition would need them and they would do what was necessary. While seemingly deep in thought, Varrics expression shifted from melancholic to worried.
"I've written enough tragedies to recognize when where this is going. Heroes are everywhere. I've seen that. But a whole in the sky? Tse - That is beyond heroes. We're going to need a miracle."
A meek smile crossed Maras features. "If that's so, then we should hurry and find that miracle as soon as possible - don't you agree, Master Tethras?" She hoped imploringly that the inquisition could make a difference, that it could fulfill this so much needed miracle.
The dwarf chuckled. "If you say so, Herold. But enough of that and please, stop calling me Master Tethras. That's way too formal. Just Varric will do."
She nodded and with a smile held out her hand towards him. "Deal, Just Varric. But, only if you stop calling me Herold. I am Mara but you, and only you are allowed to call me kiddo if you so like."
"Hah. If you insist - kiddo!" He clutched her hand with a firm grip and smiled back with a wide grin.
"C'mon kiddo. All this serious talk is making me thirsty. Let's see if we can find ourselves a nice and warm place at the tavern. I for myself are getting tired standing around up here and freezing my ass of. Besides, Bianca really hates the cold. She's a very delicate lady, you know." Varric tenderly patted his crossbow.
"Well, then we should hurry. I would never forgive myself if Bianca would suddenly catch a cold." Mara chuckled.
Varric made his way down the ladder and with a wink signaled her to follow him.
Although both of them were laughing and joking, they knew that the task was anything but a joke. Somehow, they had to close the Breach permanently, find the ones responsible for all the chaos end the ongoing civil war and prevent Thedas from descending into even more chaos. However, to accomplish all that, they would need a lot of help. Help that only would be granted to such a young organization if they would be able to make a good name for themselves. Moreover, they could only make a good name of themselves, prove their righteousness if they helped everyone who would take their helping hand.
Maker, that is going to be a though piece of work. This all would be easier if they hadn't made me the Herold of Andraste. I rather would be one of them. A soldier amongst many. Maybe then, I would be able to look out for him? Well, it's too late now, so better come to terms with my new destiny. Marcus might need me, sure, but at the moment it seems like the inquisition needs me more.
Somehow, the people of Haven have gotten it into their heads so see more in her then a simple soldier - Herold of Andraste! All eyes and ears were on HER and on WHAT she was doing or going to do. They made her a symbol of hope and they laid a whole lot of responsibility into her glowing hand. That was why she couldn't back out. She had to show them, that the hope they were reaching for was there. So she was determined to stay - alea iacta est. She had become a token - a pawn on the Makers chessboard, ready for her next move.
It was done. The breach remained calm and the most of their people somehow left the battlefield alive. The commander sat behind his desk. It was already late evening and the small chamber in the side aisle of the chantry sparsly lit with a few candles. Cullen closed his tired eyes and pinched the back of his nose with his fingers. He could feel the familiar signs of a headache approaching - again. Maybe this time it would only be a weak one? Cullen sighed and without thinking of it, streached his sore and stiff limbs. A mistake he regretted immediately. The moment he had lifted his arms a staggering pain flashed through his whole body, leaving him breathless for a moment.
Ouch. Stupid ribs...
The day the breach explosively unleashed all its energy he was one of the unfortunate standing too close and getting to experience the following burst to full extent. Due to the sheer power he had got knocked off his feet and had been catapulted away from the breach, crashing into the remnant of a wall with full force. To his luck he hadn't incured any fatal injuries, only a lot of bruises, contusions, hematomas, countless scratches, a concussion and some broken ribs as well as a broken clavicle. The commander groaned annoyed. Unfortunately his injuries didn't allow for any hard physikal work. That meant no helping with repairs or buildup for the village and camp and no training neither alone nor with his recruits. He was banished to his desk. Looking across it he contemplated the variety of documents spread everywhere: requests, reports, requisition notifications, troup line-ups and so on. With a frown he reached for the paper he had studied earlier this evening. It was the report on the events regarding the breach. Although it was already finished, Cullen opted to check it one last time before signing it of and handing it to Leliana and Josephine. While scanning the neatly written handwriting his mind began to recap what had happened up at the ruins of the temple and at the breach.
This woman with the mark, Marianna Trevelyan as he now knew, hadn't been able to ultimately close the rift and erase the breach but thanks to her the rift was sealed and the breach lay calm and dormant - no more spitting demons, fireing debris or conjuring more rifts. Cullen wasn't sure how she had done it but somehow this one woman managed to stop the onslaught of demons and with that save their lives - at a high price. The wounds she received from the demons during the fight were more than severe. Especially the wounds on her back, the ones Sloth inflicted on her should've been fatal. Three parallel, long and deep gashes that run from her left shoulder down to her right hip. In his mind's eye Cullen could see her as clear as day: a lifeless body, drenched in her own blood mingled with ash and dirt - everywhere you looked you saw dark red. It really was a miracle from the Maker that she has survived. Cullen closed his eyes and rubbed his face with his hands but no matter how hard he tried to get rid of it, the image was etched to his mind. One more memory that would haunt him in his dreams.
With great effort and groaning from pain Cullen heaved himself out of his chair. He took a deep breath and exhaled heavy. He really should pay Adan another visit the next day and take him up on his offer to help the commander get rid of the irritating aching. Still, a few broken bones and bruises were a small prize compares to your life and that of so many others. He was alive and that only because of one woman - Marianna Trevelyan. If she hadn't pushed him aut of the way back then, the lightning strike of Pride would've hit him and he would be nothing more than a small pile of ashes.
Huh? A strange person that Trevelyan. Despite beeing a prisoner and being treated as such she comitted herself to our task. She could've used the first best opportunity to run. She could've refused to help in the first place. She could've just abandoned me to my fate. She didn't had to endanger herself even more by saving me. So why? Sense of honor? Altruism? Duty? Or does she have less honorable reasons?
Cullens thoughts began to spiral. No matter how many times he wrecked his brain about it, he dwasn't able to figure her out, he was only guessing. The pressure behind his temples was getting more persistent and he could feel the headache forming faster. He decided he needed some fresh and cold air. A short walk would do him good and would help him get his thoughts straight.
He grabbed his warm crimson coat with the outstanding dark fur collar from the back of his chair and carefully slung it around his form. On his way out of the chamber he took the sheath with his longsword from its stand and buckeled it on his belt. His path led him through the imposing chantry which was build on the highest spot of the village, down through the cluster of simple cabins and some tents that actually represented the village. It had gotten late, Cullen mused as he looked up into the dark, clear night. There, in a distance but highly visible against the dark night sky lay the breach - still dromant and emanating its dusty green light. He regarded it a moment and frowned. The breach might've been as calm as it may but as long as it existed all of them were still in unratable danger. Neither of them knew exactly what the breach actually was, only that it was some sort of bridge between the fade and the waking world. Furthermore, they had no lead to the person who createtd it, much less how. The only thing they knew was that the breach had not only effected the area around Haven or the Frostbacks. Recent reports from all over Ferelden and Orlais told them that countless smaller rift had appeared throughout the lands - spitting demons and conjuring the undead which now plagued the lands.
Maker help us. Cullen felt tired and heavy-hearted.
He stopped his walk infront of one the bigger bonfires that lit the area next to the tavern, warming himself up a little bit. This time of the year the Forstbacks were always cold and if the night was clear like tonight the weather was freezing. It was but a typical crisp Ferelden winter. Cullen sighed and outstreached his hands towards the crackling fire to warm them. They only just stood at the beginning and already there was so much work to be done. He wasn't sure hwo they should accomplish all of it but at least there was a little spark of hope, a way to close those rifts and bring them closer to the finish line step by step.
Feeling warm enough from the fire, Cullen continued his stroll around Haven. He crossed Seggrits little stall in the lower part of the village, close to the big gates that led to the areas in front of the village wall: the smithy, the frozen lake and the barracks as well as the training grounds. The commander stopped in his tracks. To the right side of Seggrits stall stood three small and simple wooden shacks. His eyes wandered to the hut in the middle. That was the place they'd quartered the still unconcious Trevelyan. The battle at the breach happened more then a whole day circle ago but seeing how her body had been battered and the amount of energy she must've bunred, it was very likely that the woman would be out cold a wile longer.
Before he could so much as think aout it Cullen directed his steps towards said cabin. Cassandra insisted that the woman was wachted all the time, as a precaution. It was a decision Cullen only could approve of. Nobody of them knew what was going on with that strange mark in her plam. What if the mark sponanously became unstable and the power it held errupted with an uncontrollable blast or what if the woman herself would be corrupted by its power and ran amok? That couldn't takethat risks. Better to be safe than sorry. If it turned out that there was nothing to be concerned about with the mark then they would be able to lessen the security measures. Solas might've said that, regarding her current state, there was nothing they had to fear for, neither from the mark nor the woman. But the elf was an apostate and even although his motives might seem honest, they souldn't just blindly trust his words. At least, Cullen didn't trust him. There was something with the man that irritated and unsettled him. After all, it had been a peculiar coincidence that someone like the elf, someone that fortunately had profound knowledge about the vail and the fade, just appeared right after the breach had been created. It was suspicious but on the other hand, Cullen had to admitt that they really benefitted from Solas' extensive knowledge and from his formidable skills as mage during battle. And the elven mage was the major reason as to why Trevelyan survived. He'd performed first aid and ensured her to stay alive a little longer. Together with Adan he had tended to her wounds and remained by her side until he had been sure that she would make it.
While thinking about all this, Cullen arrived at the humble shed. One of his men was stationed next to the door. He wore the simple armor all of the recruits recieved: forest green undergarment, a simple chainvest under a iron breastplate, pauldrons, gauntlest of thick, dark leather, vembraces and greeves made from simple metal, some kinde of yellow ocher tabart and the characteristic tapered helmet (that was obviously way to large for the man, because it constantly slipped infront of his eyes). To avoid the cold he has wrapped himself in a thick and long woolen mantle. The man seamed visibly bored casualy leaning against the wooden wall and kicking the dust with his boots.
Cullen cleared his throat as he was close enough. That had the desired effect as the man startled and abruptly straightened himself, stood to attention and greeted his commander with a stiff salute.
"Commander!"
"Report, recruit!" Cullen commanded with a stern voice and a frown between his brows.
"N-nothing to report commander, sir."
"As you were!" The recruit nodded eagerly, saluted one more time and took his position next to the door. Cullen nodded satisfied and moved to open the door and step inside. Therefore gaining a baffled look from the warden whom Cullen simply ignored. It was kinda understandable why his man was confused, given the time of day and that she was not part of Cullens responsibilities. He himself wasn't quite sure what persuaded him to look after that woman. Curiosity? Worry? A desire for certainty?
As soon as the door swung open a familiar scent of elfroot and healing balm hit his nose. It was bitter yet sweet like fresh cut grass. The interior of the cabin was even more sparsly lit then his own little chamber. One single candle stood atop of the bedside table. The small flame flickered due to the sudden gust of air that had waved in with the open door. Cullen closed the door carefully behind him after he had stepped inside. Standing there in the half dark room he suddenly felt unsure if coming there really was the best idea. He had to blink a few times until his eyes adjusted to the lihgting. Looking around the place he noticed that the cabin essentially wasn't more than a single big room that was divided in an anteroom and a mainroom by a wooden half wall.
Letting his gaze wander further in the mainroom he found what, or better who, he was looking for. Marianna Trevelyan lay in the bed in the hindmost corner of the cabin. She had been layed down on her belly to not irritate the still healing wounds on her back. Her whole torso was wrapped in fresh bandages as well as her right shoulder. They had to relocate the joint after the blast from the wraith had dislocated it. A rather hurtfull procedure but luckily for her she's remained unconcious during that. Sadly the shoulder has been the lesser evil. Adan and Solas had great difficulties to heal the deep wounds on her back. They somehow managed to keep her alive though. Still, those injuries would leave massive scars. Silent reminders of the good she had done and the pain she went through. Closing his eyes Cullen still could hear her piercing crys of agony as the demon had digged its claws in her flesh. The memory gave him goosebumps and made him feel sick. There had been so much blood but still she had survived.
If Solas and Adan hadn't been able to rescue her we would've lost the only chance of closing this maker forsaken rifts, come to speak of the breach. If not for her and her readiness to fight with us without further ado - No, to fight FOR us - we would not have been able to do anything against the breach. Everything would've been for naught.
He took a deep breath and felt the discomfort that had come with the memories of the fight at the breach slowly abate. Looking at her as she lay there totally in peace, sparsly illuminated by the fleeting light of a sole candle, the soft lifting and lowering of her body the only noticable movement... It had a strangely calming effect on him watching her in her sleep. Or maybe it was the scent of the elfroot and all the herbs that loosened the tenstion behind his temples and silenced his throbbing headache to a bearable level.
Cullen stepped away from the door and into the chamber, his eyes never leaving the unmoving form of the woman. This Marianna Trevelyan, this woman laying there on the bed infront of him hardly resembled the woman he saw at the breach. Right now she looked like every other of his female soldiers that have been injured during battle. Nothing indicated of the courageously, devotional and (for Cullens liking) a bit too bold fighter who, only a day prior had risked her own life to help them. Nothing, exept the glowing mark in her left hand.
He took a step closer to the bed and lowered his gaze to take a closer look at the mark. Given she was laying on her belly, her head rested sideways on the pillow while her right arm was hanging down the side of the bed. Her long, raven hair was pinned to a loose and messy bun atop her head to get it out of the way during the treatment. Her left arm was tugged close to her body and the hand with the mark rested next to her face on the pillow. The mark itself was calm and emitted a gentle wavering green glow that mingled with the warm candlelight. Immersing her face in faint yellow light.
That mark - no one knew how or why she recieved it. Solas thought the mark has a strong connection to the fade, the same energy signature as the breach (whatever that meant?). Which was clearly the reason why it was able to manipulate the rifts in the vail and close them. At the moment the mark remained inconspicuous, at least as long as the woman carriying it was asleep. The questions was if it would remain this way? Would she be able to control the power within the mark if it didn't? They had no other choice as to wait until she wakes.
Once again his eyes wandered to her sleeping body. If it wasn't for the soft hieving of her torso one could've thought her to be dead. He observed her for a while, just to be sure that she really was fine of course. He was like mesmerized: Up and down, up... and down, up... For the first time in a long time Cullen felt calm himself. As he stood there watching he suddenly became aware of what he was doing. Staring at a half naked woman in her sleep? What was he thinking? Sure, he didn't mean anything by it but for any outstanding person it would have a certain look. This was more than inapropriate. He felt a uncomfortable warmth creeping up his neck and hastly averted his gaze. She was still alive, still asleep and everything was in order. He really should be going now. Cullen turned on his heels and was about to leave as a sudden movement in his peripheral vision followed by a pained whimper made him stop in his tracks immediately. Unbidden memories flashed before his eyes. Memories of the circle and the harrowing, of fragile bodies on a cold stonefloor contorted by excruciating spasm and helplessly crying in torment. Young mages that hand't been able to succeed their harrowing only mere moments before becoming horrid abominations. In cold panic Cullen spun around. Gone was the commander as years of relentless templar training kicked in. Swiftly he snatched the candle from the nightstand, kneeled down beside the bed and franticly searched for the telltale signs of possession. His heart was pounding so hard right now as if he had been running chores all day.
Come on Rutherford. Get yourself togehter. You're no longer in the circle and she is not a mage. She can't be possessed and turn into a monster... But what if the mark and its energy make it possible somehow? No, no, if that could happen surely Solas would've said that much, woulnd't he?
With shaking hands Cullen brought the candle closer to her face. If there was even the slightest chance of possession he needed to make sure that she was fine. He worked as if remotly controlled. Every step etched into his muscles over long years of training and indoctrination. Carefully he smoothed a stray lock of hair out of her face and slowly lifted the lid of her right eye. An unfocused green pupil looked back at him. Relieved Cullen let out the breath he was holding. Her eyeball was not rolled back in her head neither was the pupil dilated - no signs of possession. Also her strained breathing had calmed and the tension in her pale face softened.
Thank the maker. Probably she tried to move in sleep what must've hurt her. Luckily she didn't wake up...
The commander remaind kneeling uncomfortalbly on the spot, unable to move in the slightest. Altough the tauntness slowly faded, he still couldn't take his watchful eyes off of her. There was this nagging feeling in the back of his mind that told him that he could be wrong, that she still was endangered.
Trevelyan murmured something unintelligible in her sleep and turned her head slightly. Therefore the strand of hair he had tucked behind her ear earlier fell back in her face. Cullen automatically wanted to brush it away again but stopped himself mid motion. Instead he gave her face a closer look. Her skin was still pale but has gained more colour since she has passed out - a good sign; she was getting better and better by the hour. Cullens gaze wandered from her high cheekbones along the delicate outline of her small nose down to her plush, red lips that were slightly parted... Again he could feel the blush building on his cheeks.
I must admitt she looks quite pretty, even like this... Wait, is that a scar next to her right eye. That's strange, I could swear...
A sudden feeling or rememberance, like being lightning struck hit Cullen. Startled he immediately stood up causing his vision to black for a second and giving him vertigo. As soon as his vision was back his headache came rushing back and making his temples throb with renewed vigor. He swayed a step backwards and stumbled against the desk that stood opposite the bed. With one hand he gripped the edge of the sturdy table to steady him and prevent him from loosing his balance. While almost jumping to his feet, hot wax had dropped from the candle he was still holding and spilled over his leather gauntlets. Carefully he lowered the candle to put it on the desk.
"Makers breath! Could this be?" Cullen wispered to himself.
Was his mind playing tricks with him again? He brushed his hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. His thought were running a thousand miles per hour.
I... I know her. Why havn't I seen it earlier? Well, to be fair there was alot going on back there at the breach. I didn't really had the time to take a closer look at her... But how, how do I know her? Where do I know her from. I certainly don't remember meeting a Lady Trevelyan anytime in the past. But I know her face. I've certainly seen this face before - but where? For the Makers sake, c'mon Ruherford. How could you forget about her? Or is it that she just resembles someone I knew? But who would she resemble then? No, that's not it.
No, he definately remembered that face, he definately knew her. He could feel it deep inside his guts. They must've met sometime at someplace. Cullen stood glued to the spot and just stared at the womans face. He tried strenuously to find any memory of this woman that goes past the events at the temple but try as he might, he couldn't find anything. The only thing he accomplished was to even worsen his headache. He didn't know for how long he was standing there - one minute, five minutes or half an hour? - it didn't matter. He wasn't going anywhere. Annoyed with himself he peeled himself away from the desk. Shaking his head he sighed silently and reluctantly made his way out of the chamber. It was fruitless to wreck his brain about it at the moment. No matter how hard he trawled his mind for answers, he wouldn't find any. Aside from that, his head was aching fursiosly what didn't help in matters of concentration. For the moment it would be best if he retreated to his chamber and tried to find some sleep. Maybe that would sort his thoughts. Maybe the morrow would bring some clearance.
Nervousness hung in the cold air like the heavy scent of a way too sweet parfume. Around her she saw soldiers, archers and her companions take their positions - all eyes on her. She searched and found the gazes of the designated leaders of this mission: Seeker Cassandra, Leliana and Commander Cullen. They all wore the same look of exertion and worry: brow furrowed, gaze unwavering and unblinking and mouth frimly pressed shut to a thin line. They had their weapons at the ready and only waited for her sign, the sign that she was good to go. And that she was. Mara turned around. She stood only a couple of feet away from the rift and the breach. Only a few steps into its direction and the green lightning tendris that waved around the rift would've touched her.
It was a daunting yet breathtaking sight. If it wouldn't been spitting demons and murderous creatures it would been a strange beautiful phenomenon but instead of wonderous awe it only spread raw fear. Yet, despite all these fears - fear of dying, of loosing this battle, sacrificing all these people around her and fear of all the other unthinkable consequences their failure would have - Mara felt giddy. Sure, what they were about to do was dangerous, suicidal maybe and there was the very real chance that she would not live to tell the tale. Yet, she could not longer wait for this fight to start already. Tauntness and agitation faught with one another to gain the upper hand. Every fiber in her body burned hot like a solstitial fire. A sneering smile showed on her face and in the bright green light of the breach her eyes glistened with anticipation. It was exhilerating. This moments, the last seconds right before a battle when you got high on the adrenalin rushing through your veins, those were the moments Mara felt lighthearted and free - free of the burden of your life, free of any expactations, free of the weight of your decision. In this few moments almost everything was forgotten because all that mattered was you and the enemy before you. The fight became your life and you only lived for battle.
Mara tried to measure her breathing and withdrew the shortsword deliberately with her right hand.
"Everyone! Stand ready!" Cassandra yelled from somewhere behind her.
NOW! Without further thought she yanked her left arm up and opened her fist. The mark inside her palm pulsated and sparked with green energy. The grin on Maras face grew even wider - finally. From afar you could see her lips shaping words no one else beside her could hear.
"Show me what'ya got!"
The first wave of energy hit her somewhat unprepared. It had more power than she had anticipated and it felt like a heavy punch right to her gut. She was only able to withdraw a small amount of energy from the rift before the pressure of the energyblast forced her back and she lost the connection to the fade. She mustered up all her strength and although the blast pushed the air out of her lungs she managed to catch her balance. Mara coughed and glared angrily at the green gash. Before the mark in her hand connected to the rift, it had appeared to be inactive. The fade energy had flowed in and out of the rift in slow and languid rivulets. It had only awoken when Mara had approached it and the flashback had kicked in. Now the rift was bursting with green sparks that lashed out left and right. The beach above roared with thunder and spat debris after them. Lightning of sickly green matter struck everywhere in the vacinity. With every hit the earth beneath them trembled and the shrill ringing of the red lyrium sung even louder.
Mara vigorously shook her head to get rid of that damn sound and tried to focus the mark back onto the fade - but nothing happened. She tired again but no connection materialized between her and the rift. Instead a loud thunder rumbled from the breach as thick tendrils of bright green energy blasted out of the rift. Where the energy hit, it seeped into the ground, forming greyish green pools of seething ooze. Some of the pools were bigger, some smaller but there was one puddle, that was concerningly much bigger then the others. Mara had seen this kind of energy puddles before on their way up to the breach. From this oozing spots the demons arose and based on the size of this particular huge fade pool, this one would be a biggie.
The ground shook again as thunder and green lightning raged above. Out of the seething pools six-foot tall eyeless creatures cloaked in tattered black racks, sinewy long arms and armed with sharp, deadly claws manifested within the blink of an eye - Shades. Phantasmal, ethereal wraiths which gleamed in the same sick green as the breach, peeled themself from the shadows. Those two kinds of demons Mara had already encountered but this time there were others as well. Some of the Shades appeared to be taller and bulkier, their bodys tripped of black and gooey ichor and where the face should be was one big dark purple eye. Mara remeberes those monsters to be called demons of sloth. Although Shades and Sloth demons were slow, they hit very hard and their talons were extremly sharp. One good hit and your armour as well as your flesh beneath would be torn apart violently. They were bulky and persistent creatures and killing a Sloth demon was anything but easy. Wraiths were less tough. One well aimed strike and they would vanish to dust immediately. But a wraith was no easy target. They attacked from a distance with missiles of pure flashing energy. If you got hit by one of their projectiles, exposed skin would be burned, bones would break and you would suffer severe internal demage. Dodging such an attack was nearly impossible because the missiles followed their targets as if remotely controlled. So, only thing you could do to avoid being hit was blocking with a shield (given you got one).
A quick scan of the battlefield showed Mara that, at least at the moment, the maker was on their side. Three oft their soldiers stood against one monster - the enemy was outnumbered. The moment of advantage was short lived whatsoever. Previous encounters at the smaller rifts had taught her that as long as those creatures pushed through the rift into the waking world, she would not be able to reconnect with the fade to seal it. She tried to connect with the rift but wasn't able to draw energy from it. That meant more enemies were to appear within any moment now - and she was right. An instant later an oozing and faceless Shade pealed itself from the ground mere feet away from her.
Hallo, ugly!
Mara took aim at the demon, withdrew her offhand weapon and charged at it without a second thought. The moment right after the demons physical form was completely materialized, they appeared to be confused and unfocused for a few seconds. She used this moment of negligence to her advantage and out of full speed dealt a heavy blow down the demons back with her shortsword. Mara could see immediately that her hit dealt a good amount of damage. The wound was deep and black, sticky ichor that almost seemed like tar streamed down its contorted body, forming a gooey puddle underneath. most of the living things she knew would've been fatally injured but it wasn't enough to bring down a demon like this. The Shade shrieked and howled with rage, spun around and attempted to lash out at her with one of its deadly claws. Right before it attacked, it felt like time was slowing down for Mara and she knew instinctively what would happen: claw strike, performed diagonal against her less protected side, its right hand digging into her left shoulder, tearing down her front to her right hip, full force, no holding back.
Pff. A bit too obvious but hey, who am I to complain?
Right before the attack would've hit her, Mara flexed her muscles, spun around her own axis to dodge the claws and took a wide swing with her shortsword. She used the momentum of the rotation to increase the speed and power of impact of her own attack, slicing a deep gash into the demons flank. Black ichor-like blood splattered out of the wound and little droplets of it spray-coated her face. The gross fluid tasted bitter and foul in her mouth and the sulphuric smell that seeped from its pores was nauseating. Sloth screamed ferociously and reared itself up to lunge at her but this time as well Mara was faster. She threw the dagger she used as offhand weapon in the ground and shifted the grip of her right hand on the sword. With her left she clasped the pommel of te sword and mimicking the demons battlecry lunged at her enemy first. She drove the blade with as much power and as deep as she could directly through its exposed chest. The shortsword pierced the demon to its hilt. Mara could feel the warm and sticky blood coating her uncovered left hand and the hellish smell hitting her nose. A light shudder run down her spine.
Urgh. Gross.
In one swift motion she withdrew the blade from the demon, ready to strike again before her enemy could. The moment her sword left the body however, it gave one last desperate and piercing scream before it collapsed back upon itself. It became one big black pool of smelly tar that was slowly seeping into the ground. Mara was breathing hard and her heart hammered against her ribcage. The adrenalin was still rushing through her body and all she could her was the echo of the demons angry cry and the blood rushing to her ears. But there was no time for taking her breath, the battle had only just began. From the corner of her eye she spotted her discarded dagger on the ground. After swiftly picking it up she quickly scanned the battlefield around her.
To her right, only arm-lengh away stood the elfen mage Solas, alternately fireing fireballs and ice shards at different enemies. To her left she spotted Cassandra slamming her heavy shield against the head of another Sloth. Not far from the seeker Varric and Bianca peppered a wraith with one bolt after another. The dwarf was more dextreous than he first appeared, using the repulsion of Biancas shots to backflip through the air, landing plenty steps far back and thus always avoided getting into melee range. Unfortunately the battlefield was crammed with soldiers and fade monsters so that instead of manoeuvering out of the way, Varric landed directly in range of two Shade demons who only moments before slayed the poor lad that had fought with them. Now their focus shifted to the new target presenting itself before them. Being a long-distance fighter, Varrics chances of bailing out of a melee fight with two opponents looked bad. The dwarf was standing waist-deep in shit. Mara thought about rushing to his aid but she was to far away to get to him in time. She frantically looked around for a solution and she found it to her left.
"SEEKER!" Mara yelled as loud as she could to overcome the noise of the battle. "VARRIC NEEDS HELP. TWO SHADES. THERE. NOW!" Mara poited with her dagger in the direction of the dwarf. Cassandra wasted no time. With one last blow of her sword the demon infront of her succumbed under her forcefuls onslought and Cassandra immediately turned around and sprinted towards Varric.
What else? "SOLAS!" Mara tunred on her heels and rushed besinde the mage. "BARRIER OVER CASS AND VARRIC. I'LL GIVE YOU COVER!" To Maras relief Solas only nodded and did as told.
So far so good. What next? Which one of you... aha. This one!
Mara just started zig-zagging across the field towards a distracted wraith as suddenly the breach above them blared with bloodcurdling thunder and angry grumble. All demons at once stopped their advances and screamed in unison like a mad pack of direwolfs. It sounded like someone would drag its nails across a blackboard and the cry was so loud that it would make your ears bleed if you didn't cover them. Mara stopped in her tracks. A cold shiver run down her spine and the fine hairs on her arm and neck stood on end. She had the unnerving feeling that something bad was about to happen. Hesitantly Mara tunred towards the rift looming beside her. Dark grey clouds of mist seeped into the waking world, bright green sparks of energy twitching nervously inside the clouds.
The sky boomed and the ground under their feet shook violently as blue and green lightnigs sparked from the rift, hitting the alredy charred earth and singeing it even more in the process. The smell of burned matter and sulphur became nearly unbareable The stench was eye-watering and gut-wrenching and a storm of blue, purple and green bagan rageing around them. With another shattering thunderclasp a huge black pool formed infront of the rift and the creature that arose in the dust was like something right out of a nightmare. A demon, as high as a two story building shrouded in twitching lighning with thick, grey hide that looked like stone emerged infront of them. On top of its big ugly bull-like head throned two black, spiky horns. Its mouth was full with sharp and drity looking teeth and its big hands were deadly and powerful paws with long talons, powerful enough to smash a person to the ground or slice them to pieces.
The towering demon roared with its deep and gravely voice that machted the thunder above perfectly and the smaller demons all around chimed in as a cacophony of shrill screames filled the place. It was an unsettling spectacle whereas no man nor woman dared to move - paralysed by fear. Maras heart hammered so hard that it felt like everybody around her could hear it. She gulped heavy and stumbeld two steps backwards.
By Andrastes flaming sword...
These mighty creatures were called demons of Pride. Never ever had Mara seen a comparable thread in her life so far. Facing Pride she felt weak and inconsequential, like a tiny little ant moments before it gets crushed underneeth the sole of a boot. A primal fear clawed inside her chest, screaming and begging her to flea and simultaniously making her unable to move, cementing her into place like a statue. This fear however was nothing more than another opponent Mara had to overcome - a little, unnerving creature she had to shoo away and lock into the broom chamber of her mind so that it could no longer distract her from the task at hand. She would not allow this demon infront of her to control her emotions.
'You don't have to fear, child. Because if you fear that only means that you yourself conceded the power to rule over you to someone or something else.'
She would not allow this damn demon to frighten her. No, quite the contrary - Pride would learn how to fear her. Mara took a deep breath and let the newly lit flame of andrenalin consume her. She couldn't contain the low chuckle that escaped her lips. She righted herself, straightened her back and grinned at the demon like a woman gone mad.
Ohhh you fucking little shite. I'll grind you down 'till there's nothing left of you but dust. You'll regret coming to this plane in the first place soon enough.
Considering its enormous height and its mere power, Pride appeared to be an overpowering enemy - but size and strength weren't everything. Pride moved as slow as a demon of Sloth and precisely because its size it was an easy target even for the worst archer. To be fair, defeating Pride would be a hard task. Defeating Pride AND all th other demons that were scattered across the battlefield - even harder if not nearly impossible. But they had no other choice, they MUST get rid of them. As long as those demons remained in the waking world, she would not be able to seal the rift. If she wasn't able to seal it, more and more demons would come through and more and more people would fall prey to them. No, Mara would do all in her might to stop these madness. This demon was only one other obstacle she had to overcome. She just needed at plan and that quick. Luckily the soldiers and her companions had already recovered from the first shock. The majority of the hand-to-hand fighters focused back on the Shades and wraiths whereas the archers and mages started attacking Pride. Arcane and mundane bolts as well as countless arrows rained down on the demon but Pride just shrugged them off as if they were throwing woodchips against a rock. It seemed the only things they achived was to make the demon more angry. Its ferocios roar resembled the cataclysmal thunder a the storm raging around them.
As much as Mara would've liked to get involved with the big one, for now she had to concentrated her concentration on the Shade that had sneaked up on her while she had been to distracted by Pride. The demon lunged at her in an attempt to slash her but Mara was able to last-minute parry the attack with her dagger. She sensed the presence of the monster just in time to akwardly bat the demons claws away, take a wide swing with her sword and bring ist down between its neck and shoulder. The attack left a deep, black wound and the Shade schrieked in pain. Inflamed with anger the demon lashed out again. It acted to fast, that this time Mara wasn't able to take a defensive stance in time. There neither was time to parry, conter or repost nor to safely roll away to dodge, so Mara had to resort to rather unconventional manoeuvres. She was able to escape the deadly claws by ungracefully stumble backwards and flopping down on the ground. The Shade roared in frustration for missing his target a second time. Mara used this short interruption to jump to her feet and swiftely slam her dagger into demons the non-existing face. With that final blow the Shade was defeated.
"HEADS UP!" Mara heard Solas shout out to her.
Mara yanked her head around, ready to block or dodge whatever attack would be coming for her but there was non. Instead she watched Pride conjuring a huge sphere of crackling blue energie between its large paws and lifting it up in the air, ready to fire it. The demons focus though was not on her or her companios. Only now she realized that Solas' warning wasn't directed at her but at a bigger group of soldiers far to their right. Attacking a squad rather than on a singel target was quite the efficient move, causing more casualties with little more effort.
Fuck, this one is far more dangerous. It thinks strategically. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
"HEY! OUT OF THE WAY! DISENGAGE, RUN." Mara yelled as loud as she could. Her throat hurt painfully but she had to try and it must have worked.
Either the fighting soldiers had heard her or they had sensed the power of the lightning sparks. Some of them looked over their shoulders or turned their heads, clearly confused about what was going on. Their eyes widened in shock as the realization of a looming danger hit them. Ignoring their opponents the soldiers broke formation and sprayed apart in different directions as fast as they could. Most of their people would be out of the zone of impact by time but unfortunately not all heard her yell or noticed their companions fleeing the area. Between the dispersing troops Mara could catch the glimpse of crimson. Damnit! The commander was there, right in the middle of a fight, caught up in between a Shade and a demon of Sloth and making no attempt to disengage and follow up with his men.
What is he doing? Hasn't he noticed that he is about to get smashed? Oh I bet he isn't noticing 'cause of that damn stupid helmet. I knew this thing is crap.
Whatever the reason as to why the commander remained while this soldiers fled the area like ants before the rain, she had to get him out of the way somehow.
Shit, I've gotta do something otherwise that sparkly blue ball will crush him. Think, Mara!... Modest in temper but bold in deed!... Fuck. This is so stupid. Okay, ready or not, here I come.
Without further thinking she flexed every last muscle in her body, left her dagger in the puddle of black goo that once was a demon and sprinted as fast as she could across the bulstering battlefield - she didn't even take the time to sheath her sword.
This has gotten so much worse although we've been in a bad place to begin with - This feels like Kirkwall all over again only instead of abominations and mages gone mad we have wraiths and demons on the loose... And as if that isn't enough this montrous Pride demon appears out of nothing. This musst be a terrible joke, how are we supposed to deals with THAT?... Maker be with us!
Commander Cullen Stanton Rutherford by all meas was a seasond warrior. He was in great shape, his reflexes were well trained and his will to fight for the people unbowed - he knew how to read the tides of a fight. If the fights against all these smaller demons wouldn't stop soon they ould loose the battle. Their strength was fading faster and the battlefield around him was in complete chaos. Then there was this horned tower of a demon that threw lightning everywhere and crushed his recruits unterneeth its massive paw. For this creature he and his men were like petty little tinn soldiers or the branches of a brittle tree - no challenge at all.
*Clang* Cullen defelcted the hit of Sloth with his shield, spun around and slashed with his longsword acorss the abominations torso.
We need a new strategie. This isn't working. Maybe we could fall back and regroup or trap them somehow...
He felt a soft gush of air sweep across the back of his neck. Instinctively Cullen spun back aoorund and ducked behind his sield to block off a lungeing Shade.
Lelianas people would have to cover our retreat and we would need to act swiftely. But there are too many of them. A retreat wouldn' work.
From afar Cullun thought he might hear someone shouting. Something that wasn't the 'normal' battelcries or curses. The tiny hairs on his neck rose and a shudder run down his spine. Something was off. He parried another attack from Sloth with his sword and was able to push it backwards. From the corner of his eye the commander saw his soliders running by hectically and frantically yelling at each other.
They're breaking formation, without my order. What is going on? Wha... "Oh shit!"
Looking the direction his men came from Cullen finally identified what had his soldiers retreating - Pride. That damned demon held such a powerloaded attack between his large paws that even yards away he could feel the powerspikes from it. If this missile hits you, you would be dead before you could even curse the fade. So you would be better of, if you avoided getting hit in the first place. That was the reason everyone was leaving and dispersing as fast as they could.
Damnit. I should follow them, no, lead them or at least cover their backs somehow.
Unfortunately those two demons didn't let go of him. One of them he could've outmaneuvered but getting away from both in time was tricky. To be tricky he would need more time and apparently time was something he didn't have. He needed to get out of the strike zone quickly - but how? Cullen had no time to dwell on this question because the Shade and Sloth were both back at him, attempting to attacking him from both sides simultaniously.
Maker, there must be something I... *BOOOOOOOOM*
Cullen felt something heavy colliding with his body, knocking the air out of his lungs and makeing his vision loose focus. He heard a deafening rumble and crack and felt a biting heat on his face before he kissed the ground full force with no time to brace himself. Luckily whatever hit him wans't strong enought to knock him out and strangly was not as hurtfull as expected. The commander recovered from the initial shock within a second and the moment he tried to pick himself up he felt a sudden and sharp pain at the side of impact. He groaned under his breath while he slowly rolled on his side. Franticly he looked around as he tried to find and fight the cause of his downfall.
"Maker!" Cullen panted as he saw the very spot he had fought the demons only moments ago. Only arms-lengh away the earth was gone, destroyed by the heavy impact of Prides attack. All that was left was an about 18 feet wide smoking black crater. Everything within this area had been erased from the waking world. If he wouldn't have been tackled to the ground there would've been nothing left of him but a piece of crisp charcoal. Luckily he went down right in time. Cullen felt momentarily relieved, not careing right now about what had hit him.
Suddelny Cullen startled. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed movement. Did one of the demons survive as well? Refelxively Cullen rolled around and, considering he was a man fully clad in heavy armor, fast like a cat snatched his discarded longsword off of the ground and pushed himself up in a kneeling position. He stroke out to attack his opponent first but managed just in time to stop himself. There was no enemy infront of him. The Shade and Sloth were indeed gone, collateral damage to one of its brothers attacks - at least they were nowhere to be seen. But what he saw was a woman clad in foreign armor quickly picking herself up from the dirt. A flash of green light cought Cullens attention as a greenish energy sparked from the womans hand. It was Cassandras prisoner, the woman with the mark. She cursed louedly and with two fast steps suddenly stood before him. Her breathing was ragged and fast, her cheeks were red from exertion and she was overall covered in dirt, sweat and black blood. As he searched her face he met her gaze. Her eyes sparkled in the light of the breach, abalze with a ferocious fire. Cullen was cought up in her eyes, unable to look away or move.
"Holy shit... Are you okay?..." Her voice made him snap out of his stupor. He nodded and attempted to fully get up to his feet as she grabbed him at the ellbow with her marked hand. "Thank the maker... Up you go. C'mon, there's time for playing in the dirt... later." Her words carried a sneering undertone yet her tone was resolute. With a firm pull she draged him up and as soon as he stood, let go of his arm to turn around and assess the situation. Quickly Cullen picked up his longsword and his shield and as he looked back to the woman beside him. She turned around the same moment and as their gazes met he gave her a short nod, hoping this small gesture would transmit his gratitude because there was no time for big thanks. Around them the fight was still raging. From one of their flanks a Shade creeped closer and from the other side a wraith was about to fire his bolts at them. Cullen hastly stepped infront of the woman, yanked his shield up and blocked the ethereal missile with it. Behind him you could sense her movement and heard the telltale clanking of metall hitting something solid. Still ducked behind the covers of his shield Cullen glanced over his shoulder.
The prisoner and he stood back to back. The Shade had engaged her and with a grunt she blocked the demons claws with her sword. With great efford she managed to push the demon a few steps back. She was panting heavy and sweat mingled with ash run down her face. Cullen was only able to see that she was getting herself ready to block another heavy attack when he had to concentrate his attention back at the wraith which was fireing another energyball at him. Again Cullen felt the movent behind his back but he couldn't turn around to aid her with the Shade because otherwise the wraith would hit them both if he lowered his shield. He had to trust her that she would be able to manage her opponent while he was protecting them both. The wraith relentlessly attacked the and his arms started to burn violently from holding up the shield this whole time and defelcting the bursts. Suddenly he felt something heavy pressing against his back and slowly pushing him forward. He stemmed his weight against the pressure and looked over his shoulder once again.
The Shade had the prisoner stumble backwards and pushed into him. She had to hold her sword like a barrier across her chest and was barely withstanding the demons claws pressing down on her sword.
"You got this?" There was not much Cullen could've done to help her right now. He had some ideas but they were all risky. He could slam the apex of his shiel into the ground to further block the hail of energyballs, spin around and jab his blade through the demon while she was holding it up. This however could only work if he was able to slam down the shield deep enough so that it remained upright and even then the projectiles which aimed a bit higher would pass by and could still very much hit one of them. Then there was the fact that, if he would move from his place he could no longer sustain her. Then she would loose balance, stumble and the Shade could easily strike her.
If I'm fast enough, I could trun around and pull her out of the way in one motion. If we're lucky the wraiths next attack hits the Shade then? I'll have to...
"Yup. Got it!...Hold on."
She managed to press out between clenched teeth. Cullen could feel her back pressing even more vigorously against. With a strained outcry she suddenly yanked her sword upwards and simultanously kicked the demon right into its gut. The Shade howled in anger as it was forced back. With her blade no longer restrained and some space between them it was her turn now. Cullen could feel the weight and warmth of her body suddenly leaving his back as she lunged herself at the demon. Luckily Cullen had been prepared for here to change her stance and did not loose his balance. He remained his position firm as a rock and defelcted yet another numbing energyball. While concentration on the onlaught of projectiles fired at them Cullen couldn't see what had happened to the prisoner and the Shade behind him. He heard one agonizing loud shriek and then... nothing beside the uproar from the battle around them.
Just as he looked back a third time she ducked herself right next to him behind his shield. Cullen let out the breath he hadn't realised he was holding. Relieve washed over him as he realised that she must've killed the Shade and it looked like she got away relatively unharmed. It would be disastrous would she be killed. They needed her to close the breach. She was their plan A, B and C - he hated to admitt it but right now everything depended on her. Hopefully she was worth all that trust.
"You need to close the rift." Cullen didn't need to yell but still had to speak as loud as he could that she was able hear him.
"No kidding? I know, but I can't close it as long as Mr. Lightning over there is giving us hell. The mark wouldn't work."
Cullen ground his teeth. Now she's just messing with me, right? But as soon as the thought left him, he knew her words to be true.
"So what's the plan then?" He asked begrudgingly.
"Well, I've got an idea. I can drain energy from the rift. That'll weaken the big one and stun all the others. Should buy us enought time to kill Pride if everybody focuses their attacks. But I need to get closer to the rift for that."
To get to the rift she would need to pass by Pride somehow. How does she view herself doing so? That plan sounded way to dangerous for Cullens liking but what would be the alternative? He turned his head and now that she was that close he could see how exhausted she was. She was panting fast and heavy, the dirty sweat was running into her eyes blurring her vision, her cheeks were glowing red and he could see her arms shaking slightly. But when he met her gaze her eyes showed nothing of it. There was the wild and unflinching gleam of a person whose decision was already set in stone. The fire he saw earlier was back, making her green eyes shine in an unnatural, intense hue that seemed even greener as the rift itself - as if her eyes were the purest emeralds the commander had ever seen.
"Cover me!" She yelled as she slipped out from behind his shield. For a moment Cullen was confused and even before he could comprehend what she was about to do she sprinted away - making a beeline for the biggest enemy on the field.
What? What the heck? Is she mental? Is she...? Oh, no, she wouldn't?... The demon will tear her apart!
Cullen watched dumbfounded as she zick-zacked across the battlefield, evading a wraith that stood in her way with a gracious looking twirl and stubbornly running towards her desination. Unfortunately the commander wasn't the only one observing her approach. The Pride demon noticed her storming into his direction. It roared wildly and its big black eyes shifted its focus on the impertinent little human that dared to come after it. Pride hauled off and tried to hit her with its massive paw. The ground trembled as its heavy fist slammed down with a loud rumbling. But the prissoner was faster and more agile than the demon and had already circumvented its hitting range, causing the demon to scarcly miss her.
This woman was either extremely brave or simply crazy, Cullen thought. Hitting the Pride demon with a direct attack was useless. None of their attacks had made any damage so far. So what was she up to? He was about to find out.
Cullen couldn't beliefe his eyes. It was by no means her plan to engage with the demon. Instead of stopping infront of it and striking out with her sword, she let herself drop to the ground feed forward at full speed and slid through between the legs of the massive fiend. Maintaining the momentum of the move she managed to spin around while sliding and emerged behind the demon in a upright position.
Before the commander could dwell further on what just happened, his attention was distracted by another Shade trying to attack him. All around the area his soldiers faught one-on-one with monsters from the fade. Leliana and her marksmen still shooting arrow after arrow at their enemies, despite being weakened by energybolts and attacks from Pride. It, however shifted its focus away from the prisoner, seeing that it wasn't able to hit her right now, and instead concentrated its effords against the elfen mage who was annoying it with fire and ice spells over and again. After getting rif of the Shade next to him, Cullen watched out for that fierce woman, their prisoner and found her standing behind Prides back and right infront of the rift. A stream of sizzling green energy connected her left hand with the rift. Seeing her at the rift and trying to seal it filled his aking body with new energy. She was at the rift. They could actually do it. She could do it - seal the breach.
But Cullens hope was shortlived. Right next to her he saw a wraith, the very one she avoided earlier, attempting to attack her. She was too concentrated on the rift that she didn't even notice it and before he could so much as call out at her a blast of energy hit her. She stumbled and cried out loud in pain but managed to stay on her feet. The bolt of green energy smashed right against her right arm. It now hung limp to her side but she still didn't let go of her weapon, clutching its hilt thightly - her left arm she stubbornly held up, refusing the mark to disconnect with the rift.
The same second she screamed out, Pride roared as well but other than the woman, the demon fell down on his knees and wailed with agony. That was their chance. She actually managed to weaken the demon. Now they had to act quickly for only the Maker knew how long that opportunity would last?
"Leliana, Cassandra! NOW." Cullen yelled with all his might and stormed off towards the incapacitated demon. However the demon wasn't his destination.
Although the prisoner was right about being able to make Pride vulnerable, it seemed not all of their enemies suffered the effect they hoped for. Some of the demons of Sloth were still up and about. If one of them would go after her she wouldn't be able to withstand that attack. The link to the fade would be severed, the rift would remain open and continue spitting out demon after demon. If she would die, so would everyone else.
Cover me. Her words echoed in his mind. Damn. Already failed on that one.
He decidedly shook his head. No, I can still help her. I've got to get to her, protect her. She HAS to close the breach. Maker, I beg you and Andraste your bride, guide my sword and give me the strengh to do your will.
The commander hastly got himself a picture of the battlefiled in direct line between her and him. For the moment there were no demons or other obstacles in the way that he couldn't avoid. He took a deep breath, gathered all his remaining stamina and rushed towards the prisoner. He had to bypass Pride on the way but fortunately the demon was to weak and distracted to pay him any attention. It was recently occupied getting pierced by magic spells, arrows and bolts alike and also attacked by Cassandra and some more soldiers so he could rush by unnoticed. Finally getting closer to the woman Cullens heart skipped a beat and cold sweat run down his neck as he found one stray demon of Sloth approaching her, his claws already raised to come down on her. It was directly behind her, she couldn't see it, she... his heart now began to race in his chest as wild panic and cold wrath threatened to engulf him.
No, no, NO. C'mon Rutherford move your damn feet, otherwise...
But Cullen was one step to slow. The demon's clawed hand darted downwards and its sharp talons burried themself between her shoulderplates.
The poor womans piercing and blood-curdling scream of pain overwhelmed his every sense. It reverberated around him, making his ears ring and his blood go cold but he didn't allow himself to stop now.
The woman collapsed and fell down to her knees, the upper part of her body slowly bent forward but somehow she managed to not topple over even as her body swayed back and forth. Yet again that woman accomplished to take him by surprise. The tie between her and the rift did only so much as studder slightly before she forced her marked hand up again to steady the flow of energy.
As soon as Cullen was close enough he quickened his speed and smashed his shield into the demon, ramming it away from her with all his might. Not wasting any more time he struk out with his heavy silverite sword, causing severe damage. Sloth looked badly hurt but wasn't defeated yet. Neither was Cullen although he could feel his exhaustion overwhelming him slowly. He wheezed and was out of breth from all the running and the heavy blow he delivered. He tried to talk to her, to keep her going but he wans't sure if she could even hear him for his word were nothing more than brethless gasps.
"Hang in there! ... You hear me... You... you can do it! Close... close the breach... I will protect... you as long as... I can."
He positioned himself behind her and shieled her with his body as well as with his shield. He looked back at her over his shoulder and the image he saw was a picture out of a nightmare. It was truly cruesome and now forever etched to his memory. Her whole back was covered in fresh blood that gushed out of her wounds. Rivulets of shimmering, dark red rund down her body, soaking the cloth of her armor in its wake, dripping down her form, slowly gathering in red puddles beneth her. The demons claws had ripped right through her armor into her body, tearing her back open in lond and deep diagonal stripes, revealing raw, bloody flesh with flashes of sallow white in between. Cullen was close enough to her, that he was not only able to see the severity of her wounds but also smell it - a heavy sweetness mingled with a metallic bitterness he thought he could even taste in his mouth. Cullen had seen wounds like this and worse in his life and by now he should've been hardened by the sight but everytime his gut twisted hurtfully and he was overcome by a feeling of helplessness. Suffering a wound that cruesome wound cause most of the soldiers he knew to succumb. It verged on a miracle that she was still holding on to the breach or even was still concious.
Mara was done. She'd given everthing she got. Never in her life had she felt such pain. Though yet she had been so careful not to get hit too bad, anyhow she had taken not only one but two heavy blows. The first one leaving her right arm, her swordarm, numb and useless. She was no longer able to move it but luckily after the initial pang from the hit she just couldn't feel anything anymore from that side. The second blow has been much worse. She wasn't sure what exactly happened but she must've been attacked by a Shade or Sloth oder aomething else with claws. Which was strange because she thought by draining the rift the demons would be stunned. Nevertheless, something had covered her back in deep scratchmarks. It was a searing and staggering pain that radiated from her back through her whole body. Her limbs trembled because of the heavyness she felt, she could feel exhaustion take over, begging her to give in, to just close her eyes and rest a bit. She heard someone talking to her but she couldn't understand the words. They were more like hollow whisper, muffled and distant as if being under water. Something was running down her back, something warm and sticky - Probably blood, she thought. It must have been blood because she tasted the iron in her mouth. Somehow she knew that she was about to bleed out. The world around her bagan to stagger, the sense of her surrounding was slowly fading. Tears welled up in her eyes. The feeling of submergence was nearly overpowering - she would drown with the surface only an inch out of her reach. All she could see was the bright green light that was the breach, shining right above her.
No, not yet. I'm not done. I have to... I MUST close it - no matter the cost. Urgh, but it hurts so much. Maker, please make it stop.
Stubbornly she streached her left arm a bit further even though every cell in her body begged her not to. The pressure and pain from the mark adding to her agony and becoming more and more by the minute. It felt like the energy which she continuously drained from the rift, rushed right through the mark into her arm, burning her flesh and splintering her bones with its unnatural power. Her skin felt like someone had poured hot burning tar over her. The energie became stronger, more potent accumulation in the mark in her palm almost spilling over.
No, its only allowed to end after I closed the breach. They treut me to do so. They need me. I can help. I must help. It dosn't matter if I survive anymore but I beg you: Give me just a bit more strength!
Desperation clawed on her chest, forcefully digging its way out in form of an abysmal scream. Resorting on the last bit of energy left in her body Mara commanded the strange magic in her hand to suck as much power from the rift as somehow possible. Grenn spraks of energy quivered around her and battered down into the ground. She felt the power that bond her to the fade reach its limit. The high pressure pulsing from that power was like a inexorable landslide, pure force of nature. Before it, Mara was nothing more than a little bug that was crushed between the stron fingers of a giant monster.
Right before Mara was about to break down, the pressure on her arm shifted and a then, in the blink of an eye, it was all gone. The world around her had gone silent. All she could hear was her heart pounding heavy against her rigcage and the blood rushing through her ears. Blinking she forced her eyes to focus. She could see that the stream of energy connecting her to the rift was gone but her pain-lulled brain wasn't able to complete comprehend was was happening.
That's it? Have I done it? Am I allowed to rest?
Finally the last bit of power left her sore body and as she caved in on herself and almost in slow-motion tilted sidewards. Her gaze became umfocused, empty as her clouded eyes stared into nothingness.
Forgive me, Marcus. I'm letting you down - again.
Just before her lifeless body could hit the dirty ground the silence around her shattered as with one mighty outburst of energy the rift suddenly imploded. The noise was earsplitting. Bright green energy bolted through the stagnant air, followed by a cataclysmic blast wave that cought everyone unlucky enough to stand too close to the rift and catapult them away. The last thing Mara saw was the dull and soft green gleam of he breach, calm and peacefully floating in the space above her. She blinked one last time before eventually, the black curtain closed in front of her eyes completely. Then - silence.
The temple of the holy ashes was gone. Nothing from the once so imposing and exalted building that she had admired with fascination days prior was left anymore. The foundation was completely blasted, the nave as well as the adjoining buildings were razed to the ground. Occasionally you could find remainders of the once stately stonewalls, only now they looked brittle and charred like they were made of gray, bunred charcoal - a single touch and they would crumble into ashes like everything else. A thick layer of dirty ash, mixed with dirt and soot, covered the debris, the ruins, the floor and was still softly falling down on anybody nearing the rift. Just like freshly fallen snow, the ashes engulfed everyone and everything into a blanket, muffeling all the sounds - only thing you could hear was a disturbing loud crunch from the footfalls of the heavy armouread figures wandering about. If you found a spot where the wind was able to blew the covers away, all you would see was burned-black, dead earth. Looking around, the ruins, wreckage and shards scattered around within a radius of over a mile seemed like silent witnesses of what happend.
The temple now was only a mere fading memory of what it once was. The airy and wide hall, whose ceiling was supported by marble pillers, the noble cloisters, the shining white floor in which you could see yourself and which reminded you of a huge frozen lake in winter - all gone froever within the blink of an eye. And with it all the life in its vacinity. In the outskirts of the side, in between of all the debris you could find the bodies, or what may have been the bodies, of a handfull of the victims. There had been hundreds of people at the conclave - elfes, humans, dwarfes, templars, mages, clerics, innocent souls that were brutaly ripped out of their lifes. The corpes were twisted, burned beyond recognition and formed into bizarre sculptures of black and still smoking coal. The picture was horrifying but the smell was even worse. The biting stench of sulphur mingled with the heavy and sweet smell of melted grease and burned flesh... more than once Mara found herself on the verge of throwing up.
And as if the cruel sight of destruction and death wasn't bad enough, dark red stalagmites some as big as the storey of a building, some as small as the hilt of a sword, sprouted from every crack in the mountain and earth. Red Lyrium - an eerie and abnormal mis-product of nature, the mutated and malicious cousin of blue Lyrium. Supposedly the destructive might of explosion combined with the sudden death of hundreds veered it from the depth of the fade right into the waking world. The deeper they went into the ruins the more frequent and bigger the stalagmites became and the closer they got the louder became their song. It was a steady ethereal humming, like the sound when you circling the rim of a wineglass with your finger. This sound, no, melody was somewhat welcoming and pulling you in but it made Maras head swim, made her vision blur and her stomach nauseaus like beeing seesick. She didn't like it one bit.
"Maker be with us!" You could hear the murmured plea of some of the soldiers standing by. Their heads were hanging low and you could see their pale faces. Some of them were angry, others shocked and overwhelmed. Just like Mara but she had no time to linger on grief or fear - there would be time for that later. If there even will be a later for me.
The breach hung right at the center of what was once the temple of holy ashes. It was a huge, garish green billowing rift lingering in the midst of the empty space. From it the unnatural energy of the fade oozed out like thick vapour. Every so often the power discharged itself from the breach with foreboding electrical crackling and hissing. Everytime it happpened the mark in her hand flared painfully.
With a shudder Mara teared herself away from her hand and forced herself to take a look around the soon to be battlefield that now lay before her. Instinctively her hand grabbed the hilt of her weapon. She was relieved that the seeker had decided to free her from the handcuffs and, after some hesitation, had allowed her to fight with the swords she had found on the way. But even with the both of them fighting they had a really rough time going against all the enemies they encountered. Luckily for them they found some very reliable additional pair of hands on their way. Cassandra and Mara had to face one problem after the other. They were shot with projectiles made of green energy and where the debris had hit the ground, murderous demons and shades peeled themselfes from puddles of greyish green ooze. Shortly before they reached the forward camp, they heard fighting sounds coming from a ruin a bit further their way. Nearing it they found the source of it - in the middle of crumbled walls a small group of people was desperately fighting against a never ending flood of demons that emerged from a small rift. The fight wasn't going well for the defenders. Without thinking twice Cassandra had jumped down the small drop the two of them had been standing on and stormed across the yard sepearting them from the fighters - with a shake of the head but a smile on her face, Mara sprinted right after her, drawing her swords slamming them into the first enemy that had barred her way. Less than a minute later the demons were gone. That had been the point things had become... lets say weird or weird-er.
"Quickly before more come through!"
Suddenly everything happened at once. Someone grabbed her marked hand and yanked it towards the rift. She barely heared the words the person had spoken. The second her hand had been raised the mark somehow had connected to the rift, building a sickly green sizzling bond between them. The feeling was highly uncomfortable - her hand and arm felt like burning, she felt a sharp pain throughout her whole body, a ringing in her ears, a strange power pulling on her. For a second it felt like the rift would suck her in but she withstood the pull and instead concentrated on the energy connecting her to the rift. Right in that moment she became very aware of energy flowing between her and the fade. With all her willpower she commanded it to SHUT THE FUCK DOWN! Then, suddenly, the connection broke apart, the rift flared one last time and imploded with a dull blast wave, knocking her back a few steps. Mara had felt lightheaded and wobbly on her feet but to her relief the pain had subsided and all that had been left was the steady thrumming of the energy she could feel surging through her hand. She had stared at the mark in confusion, then at the person standing right next to her. They only had smiled at her and had answered her unspoken question with a gentle nod. Maras eyes had widened in realisation. She had done it, she had closed a rift.
After everyone had calmed down Cassandra introduced the man next to her as Solas. The elfen mage had been the one pushing her arm and telling her how to close the rift. It seens as he knows quite a bit about the fade and the veil. According to the seeker he also was the one taking care of her after they had found her. While she was out cold Solas had barely left her side, tending to her wounds and studying the mark. Seemingly the insight he could gather led him to belief that the mark in her hand and the energy seeping through the rifts are similar and thus the mark could have the ability to manipulate the fissures of the veil. Luckily for them Solas' theory has proven to be right. If she concentrated on the power in her hand and forced it towards the rifts she somehow was able to close that damn things. She might not know exactly how it worked but at the moment the HOW was irrelevant. What mattered was THAT she was able to help.
Besides Solas a dwarf, who introduced himself as Varric Tethras - rouge, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong, joined their group. He was a man full of sarcasm, witty remarks, questionable vim and an impressive display of chest hair. Oh, and lets not forget about his companion Bianca - love of his life and deadly precise crossbow. Mara decided the moment they met, that she would like Varric.
After that they managed to get to the forward camp without bigger trouble where they were greeted by a frowning Leliana and a very unfriendly clerc, named chancellor Roderik who both had been in midst of an argument. Unfortunatedly, Mara somehow managed to get herself involved into said argument partly because of her unwelcome presence and partly by reminding them that there is a bigger problem than her presence. Then, all it took was a little flare of her mark and she had become the center of attention and suddenly had been pressured to decide on their next move. Sadly, it had been a lose-lose situation: A) Take the remote mountain path which would be the saver route and they could possibly save the lifes of a missing scout squad but it would take a lot of their non-existing time and cost the lifes of the soldiers who would pose as a distraction. B) Continue on the direct path to the breach and fight alongside the soldiers which would spare time and thus save the lifes of many soldiers on the field but would also abandon the scouts to their fates and put Mara and the others into higher risk of dying themselfes. Eventually Mara decided that time was the crucial factor and, as cruel as it seemed, people would die either way. As much as she would've liked to rescue the scouts, their fate was unclear and the chances of finding them alive seemed too small. The chances of saving more lifes altoghether the sooner she closed the breach had carried more weight at the moment. So, Mara decided that they should join the forces and rush to the breach as fast as they could. Unsurprisingly not everybody was happy with her decision but they had been in kind of a hurry with no time to think of an option C that could have made all of them happy. Leliana seemed like a resonable person and would get over it with time. I mean, she could've just commanded us to use the path through the mountain instead of dumping the resonsibility on me.
Mara could understand why they made her choose. There were the obvious reasons Solas and Cassandra had mentioned, sure, but there was also another reason. She was their bad guy. It didn't matter if the people hated her because of her decisions - because they already did. Even if her choice of action would turn out to be a sucess the poeple won't suddelny praise her and forgive her that she may or may not be responsible for the events at the conclave. Best case, it could be a first step to make amends because they start to consider her story to be true. Worst case, they still vote for her to be hanged because they still don't belief her and dismiss her actions as petty attempt to deceive. In the end, it didn't matter, she promised to help those people and she indented to do so, no matter what.
Mara took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment to calm her nerves. I. Can. Help. All I have to do now is close that damn big one over there. Piece o'cake, right? She opend her eyes and examined the area around her, giving that big green gush infront of her a wary look. After fighting even more demons and fade creatures back to back with the remaining soldiers and closing two other, smaller rifts they had made it to the breach - partialy hurt but still in one piece. Together they managed to clear the path of enemies and rifts with only minor losses on their side. Now, that the path was secure the backup from the forward camp was able to easily close ranks. Now the destroyed temple premises were figuratively swarmed with soldiers and additional voluntary hands.
Besides these people there was their quartett, consisting of Cassandra, Varric, Solas an herself, and Lelilana together with two squats of archers. Leliana herself was equipped with a neat longbow which was swung around her back and a quiver full with arrows at her side. She and her archers positioned themself on the elevated areas around the clearing. Mara watched them ready themself and she was bound to notice that in the long run the marksmen would have way too little arrows. That was not the only thing concerning. The soldiers may all wear armor and weapons but they were a potpourri of different sets and the quality was... mediocre. Well,it was not as bad as it might sound. As far as she could tell, most of them actually knew how to fight - on a reasonably trained level - and even if not, all those fighters were brave und determined men and women who they did their damnest to fight against their fears and whatever was coming. When everything would be over they would celebrate, drink and sing as the heroes they undoubtedly are and praise the names of the fallen. Mara envied them for that.
Way down on the soon to be battlefield she watched the soldiers running around to take their positions. As small group of them had gathered around an outstanding figure. A tall and broad man with straw blond hair yelled orders and gestured them where to go. He wore a crimson red coat with a big, dark fur collar that covered most of the heavy silverite armour he wore underneeth. At his side dangled a lether sheeth with an impressive longsword inside and a silverite kite shield was fastened to his back.
He looks so different now. Mara grinned a little to herself. Where's he hiding that ridicious lion helmet of his? She couldn't see it anywhere near him. Maybe he wasn't very fond of waering the helmet at all? It seemed excessively ostentatius, needlessly pretentious and highly impractical - to her at least. He just could've worn a simple silverite helmet without loosing any of his authoriative aura. Or he was just indifferent about it or, maybe he even enjoyed wearing it? Eitherway it didn't seem to hinder him in his ability to fight. Mara had to admit that, even despite the helmet, the Commander was quite the impressive figure both aside and inmids the battlefield. A fact that came not only from his outstanding appearance but also from his formifable skill as a fighter. The way he moved and fought on the battlefield and the way he commanded made clear that he had seen his fare share of battles in his life.
Feeling suddely self-conscious Mara gave herself a quick once-over and had to surpress a heavy sigh. She was still wearing the armour she usually wore while she was traveling. It consisted of a short breastplate, a thick special leather gambeson and a pine green tabart beneath it (the breastplate was affixed to the thick leather front of the gambeson and the back had various small metal plates embedded in it), light silverite pauldrons and vembraces, thick leather gauntlets, tight leather trousers, lether boots and metal greaves and, if she had to, a helmet. She always liked her armor to be as light as possible to not restrain her mobility but still heavy enough to ensure good protection. She was well aware that there were spots on her body the armor did not or rather only partially cover, like her back, thighs and her neck. But she was quick and agile enough to avoid hits to exposed areas and avoided having enemies at her backside.
Normally Mara did take care of her equipment as best as she could. She made sure that the single parts and especially the bindings were in good shape and even tried to maintain it as clean as possible. Sure, her armour hadn't been all shiny and new or impressive but she had worn it with confidence and pride. Every new mark has been a silent witness either to her achievements in battle or to the journey of her life - it has been part of who she was. Now her armour was all grimy and stained with goo, sweat and blood. The breastplate was completely dented and scratched, some of the clasps were broken and the whole gambeson has suffered some severe damage. Besides the demage she was missing her left pauldron and gauntlet as well as her helmet. She barly recognized her former self. Gone was Mara Trevelyan, representative of the esteemed Trevelyan family. Gone was Mara Trevelyan, the proud and respected soldier. What was left was Mara, disgraced prisoner and main suspect of killing hunderets of people by blowing up a whole temple. Mara crincled her nose in disgust and grimaced at the thought that occured to her. I guess my armour fits me quite perfectly then, isn't it?
Mara was so lost in thought that she didn't notice the person approaching her. She startled as someone laid a their hand on her shoulder and squeezed frimly. She jerked her head around to find Cassandra stepping into the space besides her. The seekers gaze was stern and fierce while she was starring up to the sizzling green crack in reallity a few yards away.
"This is our chance to end this! And yours. Are you ready?" Cassandras voice was as ferocious but also filled with hope.
Am I ready? Duh. I don't know what this mark in my hand really does, how I got it or how it works. I rather use it out of pure instinct. Nobody knows if the mark is going to work with the breach as it did with the small rifts before. Everyone can sense that there will be some kind of attack from these demonic creatures but nobody knows how many enemies there will be - and if we can defeat them. Acually, nobody has a damn idea of what happend or what will be happening, so... NO, I am NOT ready. Seriously, can anybody really ever be ready for shit like THIS? On the other hand - nobody CAN be ready for this. Seeing it like this, I'm already the most ready I can really get, sooo... Fuck it. I'm ready to kick some ass. Let's do this!
Maras lips turned into a lopsides smile as she could feel a well-known prickling and tightness spreading from her chest. There was tension, anticipation, impatience and also fear. Together these feelings were forming an almost wild beast that was rageing inside her chest. It was relentless and it would break free as soon as the storm of battle would close in on them. For some, this feeling would be unsettling but for her it was welcome like an old friend. She was positively thrilled. Mara looked at the seeker and gave her a confident nod.
"As ready as can be. As long as you got a plan to get me up there 'cuz I don't think I can reach the breach from down here."
"Breach IS a long way up." Mara and Cassandra both turned around to see Varric approaching them, his eyes following the shining green column of light up into the darkend sky. Cassandra frowned and growled at her tagalong.
Cassandra opend her mouth to give them a retort but was interrupted by Solas. The elven mage appeared from behind a near wall right after Varric. His face looked pale an calm but his eyes shone. "Yes. You can not seal the breach with your mark."
"What? What is that supposed to mean?" Cassandra closed in on Solas; her eyes ablaze and voice low and growling.
Solas didn't flinch. He kept his unnerved composure and just shurgged. "This rift was first. And it is the key. Seal it and perhaps that seals the breach." He said as a matter of fact and made a protruding gesture towards were the green energy hovered above the charred ground.
Mara took a step closer to the stone railing before her and looked down. Of course Solas was right and Mara metally facepalmed herself for not noticing that herself. If you examinded the whole breach closely you could see that the greyish green stream of unnatural energy errupted from a sickly green crackling and rumbling gash in the vail between two worlds.
Upon absorbing the sheer dimension of that first rift and the inevitable danger that it entailed, she could't help but feel the beast inside her chest getting eager to be set free. The impatience inside of her rose minute by minute. But she had to play it cool. No one of the others needed to know about her pugnaciousness. Mara took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
"Well, perhaps sounds good enough. Like you said seeker 'this is our chance'." She mimiced Cassandras gesture from earlier and squeezed her shoulder firmly while searching the womans eyes for a reaction.
Cassandra locked eyes with Mara and nodded before she shared that determined look with their two companions "Then let's go down and finish what we came for." The seeker turned on her heels and briskly walked towards the way down.
Mara, Varric and Solas followed shortly after the seeker. To reach the rift they had to descent about one storey, down to the floor that once was the great hall of the temple with a now shattered statue of Adraste in its center. Unfortunately all the stairways down had been destroyed due to the explosion. The only path down was a rather steep ramp on the opposite side of the hall.
Half way around the preimeters of the hall and through a forest full of debris, strange rock formations and of course stalagmites of red lyrium Mara suddely felt sick. Her vision blurred and a newly surge of pain flooded her body and made her head feel like a qunari smashed it with a huge hammer. She stumbled and stooped in her tracks to regain her composure and willed the pain to go away. And here I thought I was gettin' used to being hit with fade energy... That was when she heard it. A distant yet loud and clear voice, deep and contorted with a dark rumbling.
"Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice."
Mara scanned the area but couldn't find the person speaking. This was odd. It seemed like the voice was coming from... the breach? That was impossible. Next to her she saw Varric throwing the clusters of red lyrium disgusted looks while Cassandra came jogging back to them. She looked as startled and confused as Mara was.
"What is this? What are we hearing?" The seeker asked no one in specific.
Solas' eyes wanderd over towards the breach while he thoughtfully rubbed his chin. His calm and low voice almost sounded scarier than that otherworldy one they just had heard. "At a guess: The person who created the breach."
"Keep the sacrifice still!" - "Someone help me!"
Another bodyless voice, the voice of a woman, reverberated from the ruins of the temple. Cassandras jaw dropped down and her eyes widened upon realising whose voice they heard. "That, that is Divine Justinia!" there was no room for mistake. But who is the other person then? What had they done to the Divine?
"I have a strange feeling about that. But we should get down there already and see whats going on." Mara felt dizzy and a strange sense of impending danger and sudden alertness made the tiny hairs on her arms and her neck stand up.
Right before climbing down the slope to the lower level the mark in Maras hand flared again. This time the agony that washed over her was at a much more tolerable level so that she didn't have to stop in her tracks. She slided down the ramp as gracefully as she could and almost sprinted towards the evil green. Again, they heard Justinias desperate plea for help.
"Someone! Help! Please!" - "What's going on here?"
Wait a moment, was that... "That was your voice!" Cassandra shouted. Indeed it has been Maras own voice she just heard. What the hell? Damn it. Why can't I just remerber already? Just as if the maker had heard her the moment the group stopped infront of the massive rift its energy flashed in a bright green light that engulfed the whole area. Mara instinktively shut her eyes closed, covered her face with her right arm and ducked away from the outburst.
Slowly, hesitant Mara opened her eyes. She had to blink a few times as she rightened herself and tried to see what just had happened. The air around her was wafting like it would on the most hottest days of summer. But there was no heat, in fact the temperature kind of felt like it had dropped a few degrees instead. She turned around herself and imedeately stumbled a step back as she found herself looking in her own face. "What the..." was all Mara mumbled. The other She had just slammed open the doors to the great hall and rushed into the non-existing room - right throughout Mara. She froze in space and sucked in the air sharply. I'm fine, I'm fine. Fuck the maker, that was wired. Let's never do that again.
"What's going on here?"
Mara spun around on her heels to see herself stopping infront of the Divine Justinia. The picture that enfolded itself infront of her was cruel and distressing. The holy mother was captured and held in the air by what must have been magic. Her feet dangleing a foot above ground and her arms were streached apart like she was crucified. She turned her head as far as she could and looked at the other Mara in panic.
"Run while you can. Warn them!" The Divines voice was hoarse from screaming.
But instead of herself immediately leaving, a telltale deep growling emerged from somewhere to her right. Both Maras turned their heads towards the sound and that was when they saw it. A huge, faceless figure of black smoke with burning dark red flames were the eyes were supposed to be stepped from the fade.
"Ahh. We have an intruder. KILL HER!" It shouted furiously.
Its deep, contemptuous voice morphed into an angry and loud rumble that echoed in her mind and made her ears ring. Her temples throbbed vigurously and her head felt like someone reached right through it, grabbed her brain and squeezed real hard. It almost felt like her mind was strenuously trying to dig deeper into her memories but couldn't. Something, a barrier of sorts was effectively blocking its attempts and causing her headache in return. Strangely enough though, Mara wasn't too frustrated about that. Even if she still couldn't remeber the event that has been revealed or anything else for that matter, she felt so, so relieved. She had been there, at the conclave with the Divine but it hadn't been Mara who attacked her. No, she had been there to help Justinia and it seemed the Divine had trusted her. She was the good guy. But then again, who was this angry creature that had orderd her death? There was no doubt that it has been responsible for the destruction of the temple, the explosion that killed everyone but her. What or who was it? Why did it do it and how? Who are its collaboraters? How many henchmen does it have? Are they still alive? Is IT still alive?
C'mon strange fade vision, show me more! Wait! No, no, no, no, no...
This time she could feel it before it happened: the energy rushing through her arm, the tingling of her skin, the numbness in her fingertips and the burning pressure that accumulated in the palm of her left hand. On instinct Mara snapped her eyes shut and threw her arms up in the air. The mark in her hand errupted with green energy at the same time as the illusion before her shattered in a nova of dazzling bright light.
"Damn." Mara muttered under her breath. She open her eyes and as her eyesight recovered Mara turned around to find her companions standing only a few steps behind her. Cassandras mouth was wide agape and her face wore a shocked and confused look. Their eyes met and the seeker decidedly strode up to Mara.
"You were there! Who was this, who attacked? And the Divine, is she...? Was that vision true? What have we been seeing?" There was urgency in her voice but also bitterness and fury.
Mara slowly shook her head in an apologetic manner. "I'm sorry, seeker - Cassandra. I don't remember." She spoke in a calm, almost soft tone.
"Echos of what happened here." Solas walked up to the other side of Mara, reliably filling in their gaps in his sober fashion as if what just happened was the most obvious thing. "The fade bleeds into this place. This rift is sleeping. It is not sealed, but it's closed - albeit temporarily. I am sure now that with the mark, the rift can be opened again and then be sealed properly and safely." With a smooth motion the elf reached behind him, grabbed his staff of his back and propped it onto the dusty ground, causing the fine black sand and ashes to swirl around the base of his staff. "However, opening the rift will likely attract some attention from the other side." The corners of his mouth tucked up into a sad smile as his gaze wandered away from the rift to meet her and Cassandras eyes. The look on his face was meaningful. He knew what was about to happen - they all knew.
Cassandras features hardened and you could almost see her whole body tense. Mara could feel it as well: anticipation was rising, her heart began beating faster and faster and she could practically hear the rushing of her own blood. Finally the time has come for her to seal that marker forsaken green bleeding wound, to save all those people from all the monsters and bring them a little bit of peace. And maybe fighting for the sake of all those people, fighting in their name was destinys way to show Mara her purpose? Was this her fate? Was it predestinated to her to be at the conclave, to be the sole survivor, to burry that mark so that there would be a tool to close the rifts? Was this a fate she could accept? What about Marcus? Was it possible that a person could have more than one fate? Anyway, fate or not was a question for later, if she survived this - maker be damned she would survive this or Marcus would kill her. No, all she had to do now was to seal that one fucking rift and kill some demons. She could do that.
Mara took a deep and long breath and slowly exhaled to tame her exitement when a saying her uncle told her popped into her mind 'Fate rarely calls upon us at a moment of our choosing' It may sound precocious, but felt fitting non the less.
Mara smiled to herself. She unsheathed her weapons, locked eyes with Solas, Varric and Cassandra and with one last nod to the seeker opend the gates that barred that restless beast inside her chest.
… was the first thought that crossed Maras mind while she was slowly regaining consciousness.
Why the bloody hell is my head feeling like a long night out at the barracks drinking one too much … was the second.
Mara tried desperately to recall where she was and what to the blasted fade had happened to make her feel like shite. Her whole body felt like one big bruise, every muscle and fibre ached and her limbs felt like they were made of lead. The unrelenting and piercing throb behind her temples wouldn't stop no matter how hard she tried to ignore it - and more concerning, why did her left hand and her forearm feel as if someone spilled boiling hot water over them?
Something most definitely wasn't right. Mara lay there, curled together on a very uncomfortable ground. She could feel the cold of the stones seeping through her clothing and into her mistreat body. At first the cold felt pleasant and eased the pain a little but as she lay there it became too much and she started shivering. Mara tried to push herself in an upright position but a wave of panic mixed with pain washed over her – she couldn't move her hands right! She slowly blinked her eyes open and looked down to her hands and sucked in a sharp breath. Her hands had been bound together tightly with some sort of strange metal handcuffs. Mara tried to swallow the lump that began to build in her throat.
What the bloody hell?
With great effort, Mara managed to maneuvre herself into a sitting position; back supported by the cold and damp cobble wall behind her and legs streched out infront of her. The room she was in was poorly lit with a few ...torches? Only after blinking a few more times the picture of her surroundings became clearer. She was in some kind of dungeon. The walls, the floor and the ceiling were made of simple and dark stones, which in some places were covered in glistering humidity and dark green moss. It mainly smelled like mildew and old, damp straw but Mara imagined she smelled faint touch of medicinal herbs underneath. From the far corner of the room she could her the *blib,... blib,... blib* of liquid dropping from the ceiling and landing in a puddle on the floor. Slowly her eyes adapted to the sparse lighting and slowly her pain-clouded mind was able to begin and comprehend the situation she was in. Mara tried to concentrate on the steady rythm of the drops in order to regulate her quickening heratbeat and nervous breathing.
I'm locked up! Constricted, put behind bars und watched by some damn guards! But why? Why by the makers hairy balls am I here? Fucking sake! What had happened and why the bloody hell can't I remember? Fuck. Fuck. FUCK! Breathe... Fucking breathe...
The thoughts in Maras head began spiraling what only fueled her pounding headache to a point where she started feeling nauseous. She was confused, hurt and most of all very annoyed – annoyed of the pain, the situation and the fact that she had no fucking clue about anything. Mara groaned with a mixture of pain and annoyance and let her head fall back against the wall. She was about to close her eyes again when a voice stratled her.
"The prisoner's awake! Hurry, get the seeker!" One of the guards must have seen the movement in her cell and seen her being awake. He literally jumped to attention and loudly barked oders to one of the other guardsmen. His deep and much to loud voice reverberated in her head unpleasantly and she squeezed her eyes shut.
Why couldn't they just leave her alone in her misery? Was whatever she had done so bad that she had to be watched by no less than four heavy armored and armed guards? Three, now that one of them abruptly turned on his feet and hastily sprinted out of sight to get that seeker.
All three men carried broadswords on her sides and altogether didn't look very happy with their situation either. Mara could sympathise with them wholeheartedly. She didn't want to be trapped in that damp basement, just as little. One of the guards strode towards her and fiddled with something on his belt. She couldn't quise see what he was searching for but according to the metallic jingle, he was searching for the key to open her cell. Mara fixated the guard with her emerald green eyes, attentively watchig every of his movements.
What are they doing? They certainly won't let me out just like this.
The guard with the keys was followed directly by another man which, alarmingly, had unsheathed his sword. Mara swallowed painfully. Her mouth and throat were completely dried out and sore from not speaking for a while. She wanted to say something, wanted to ask what in the makers name was going on – but all she could manage was a raw rasping sound followed by nasty cough that shook her whole body. The guard with the keyes stopped outright, the hand with the key hovering only inches infront of its lock. His eyes searching her face frantically in order to find signs of distress or threat. But the only thing he would find is sorrow.
With a high-pitched, loud squeak, the door to her prison opened (once again a very nice sound if you're already having a brain-wracking headache). Before Mara couldn't do anything other than grimacing, the two guards were at her sides, grabbed her by her arms and non to gently yanked her to her feet. The moment they pulled her up and forced her to stand, she gave a strangled whimper and her sore legs gave in to her own bodyweight as she threatened to collapse onto the ground. The two men cussed loudly while they catched her and stopped her fall. Their grip on her arms tightened painfully as they steadied her and forcefully dragged her out of her cell. The cells in the dungeon were arranged in a circle around a central round area. Mara was dragged there and dropped to the hard ground unceremoniously as soon as the men let go of her. A wave of pain rushed through her body as she collapsed knees-first onto the hart stone floor. Mara pressed her lips together as firm as she could to suppress the cry of pain that threatens to escape her throat.
"Don’t ya even dare movin', ya lousy piece o'shite!" The third and last remaining warden, the one that previously gave the orders to fetch the seeker, pointed his sword at her and spat on the floor right in front of her. "We'll keep an eye on ya. If ya try something funny we'll bring ya down like the bitch y'are!" He gave his other man a short nod and they too readied their weapons.
Hilarious. This whole situation is hilarious.
Once again, Mara found herself wondering. She had done bad things in her life, sure, made all the wrong decisions but it never had ended that unfortunate and forlorn. But this dark part of her life lay way back in der past and she swore to herself she would never go back to that dark place of her history. What was worse, she couldn't recall a thing which must mean things went so terribly down south that her mind choose to rather forget about it instead of facing it. All the sudden Mara felt a stabbing guilt- but for what? She felt guilty for something she may or may not have done and couldn't even remember any of it? Why? That dosn't make sense! Mara felt the strange urge to laugh aloud despite or maybe just because of the whole situation but luckily her voice disobeyed her.
"Please,… could I…. *cough*please ... a sip of water?" Maras voice was small and nearly silent as she tried one more time to get out any coherent words. She looked up and into the hard, grey eyes of the man before her. But he dind't even flinch. She cautiously looked around to the other two soldiers. They were both exchanging unsure looks before glancing to the one that was in charge. Maras gaze wanderd back up to the man hovering over her hunched figure like a bloodhound. After one long moment eyeballing her intensely, his face grimaced and a disgusted growl escaped his throat.
"Pah, how dare ya, shameless trash!" He spat out but made a short pause, seemingly considering his next actions. The man ground his teeth. "Tse. Fine, ya shall've ya water. But only, cuz I don't wanne catch hell from the seeker. Would be bad if her prisoner could't answer properly, ey?" He nodded to the warden left to her and out of the corner of her eyes Mara could see him fetching a water hide from somewhere. A bit unsure how to proceed the man carefully, almost fearfully, placed the water hide at her lips so that she could drink. The water was cold and the first two sips hurt her throat but after that, she felt the soreness slowly abate. To her imagination, water never tasted better in her whole life and the man withdrew the cool liquid far too soon for her liking. It must have been a pathetic sight with her kneeling on the cold ground, beaten, dishevelled, dirty, cuffed and pleading for a simple drop of water, little rivulets of water running from the corners of her mouth down her chin. She wiped them away with her shoulder.
"Thank.. you." She whispered cautiously, not trusting her voice to be steady enough to speak out loud.
The warden, who appeared to be a young man with a pale, freckled face and light brown eyes – eightteen at the most – gave her a faint and apologetic smile before he took his place to her left again.
He seems nice. Not like Mister 'Will-cut-you-down-if you-only-blink' here infront of me. But who knows, maybe I deserve to be treated like a vial basdard because of whatever it was that I've done? Maybe I derserve ALL this?... I could try and ask the boy, maybe he would enlighten me? Mara sighed defeatedly. No, that wouldn't do. He is most certainly not allowed to speak to a prisoner and I don't want him to be punished because I pressed him for answers if he knows something afterall. Or I will get my fair share of shite because I opend my mouth in the first place. No, I have to wait 'till this seeker arrives.
While sitting there on the uncomftable ground and waiting for her interrogator, Mara tried to focus her mind, to ignore the throbbing of her temples and the stinging pain that spread from her left arm through her whole body. She had to remeber at least something, anything. That seeker would want answers, answers she didn't have.
Only minutes later the door at the far end of the dungeon banged open forcefully, the torchlight flickering and dancing nervously with the sudden shift in the air. And like a thundering strom a person, clad in dark leathers and black armour engraved with the white symbol of an eye, rushed into the room. This must be the seeker then. As the figure entered the cell district properly the guards immediately srpung to attention and stood back to make more room. The warden infront of Mara was replaced by an imposing woman with short cropped black hair and a small braided plait ontop of her crown. She had a angular face and a sharp chin but also high cheekbones and deep set eyes with glaring dark-brown, almost black, irisis. The way this woman moved and held herself, her stature and the conspicous skar that adorned her right jaw - the telltale sword and shield she carried with her - this woman certainly knows how to fight and she seemed like someone you would rather like to have on your side. The look on that womans face was all rage and disgust, like she really needed to punch someone right now really bad. And it seemed that someone would be Mara if she wasn't careful. That's bad.
Behind the raging seeker, another person, a woman as well, entered the room. She was a bit smaller than the seeker but no less intimidating. She was wearing a kneelong chain vestrure, dark blue/purple underclothing, a hood and a pair nice dark leatherboots. While the seeker was all force and fury this second woman was calm, almost indifferent. Mara tried to ignore the bristleing seeker for a second and searched the other womans face. But this woman was to far in the back and mostly coverd in shadow and under her hood. All she could see were icy blue eyes and just the slightest flicker of... something - curiosity? Agony? Anger? Sadness? Or just the reflection of the twitching torchlight? Mara couldn't tell -this pale, hooded woman was damn hard to read. Under her dark, violet-blue hood you could see strads of copper red hair, a small pointed nose and these almond-shaped eyes with that crystal blue irisis. Mara could've found her pretty if the presence of that woman didn't give her the shivers. And who is she?
Mara had no time to dwell on that question because of the imposing woman right infront of her. The womans dark eyes fixated on Mara, her every muscle seemingy tense, like the cat right before it gets the canary. She rounded Mara and let out a deep and dangerous growl, never loosing sight. The air in the room has gotten to thick it felt like you could cut it with a knife but luckily this agonizing silence didn't hold long. The seeker wasted no time on formalities or pleasantries. Instead the woman took one quick step to close the distance between her and Mara, grabbed her by her collar and non to gently brought Maras face right infront of hers.
"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now." It was not a question but more a callange. The woman had a strange hard accent with a rolling 'r' like the poeople from Navarra. She growled at Mara, the tone of her voice was full with anger and distrust.
"The conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead... Exept for you!" The seeker pushed Mara back and let go of her collar.
Destroyed? Dead? What? I... Maras eyes widened in shock as ahe realised the meaning of the words. The nauseous feeling from earlier came back and she shiverred slightly.
They are all dead? Harris, Liam, Killian and all the others... gone? How could this be? If this was true then I should be dead as well. How could something big like the conclave be destroyed completly with no survivors - Not one exept - me? Why me? Why sould I be the only soul that gets to live? ... Huh, indeed very suspicious. Now at least I kno why I'm in chains...
Mara looked up into the seekers stony face, her voice barely audible but steady. "You think I am responsible." Now it seemed very obvious but she said it anyways.
But still, the whole image was as unclear as before. Why should she destroy the conclave and kill hunderets of people she didn't know, let alone her friends? That didn't make any sense and was irritating to say the least. This was too much to process much too quickly: She was a prisoner accused of mercilessly killing so many people by destroying the holy conlcave she originally didn't want to participate in... No. This was impossible. Mara pressed her eyes shut and vehemently shook her head. If she would've had the strengh she would've stood up to that seeker and shown this woman what she thought of her accusations and insisted on an explanation. Mara was in a bad place and it was so, so frustrating; she could've screamed. But that would've only been an utter waste of energy. Modest in temper, bold in deed. She was a Trevelyan and would always be. Her family credo was carved deeply into her utter beeing and was something she could always hold onto. Modest in temper, bold in deed. Mara took a deep, grounding breath, straightened her back and looked directly up into the seekers burning eyes. Her gaze was steady, unwavering and also burning with determination.
But the seeker wans't one to be impressed lightly. She only made a disgusted sound and in one smooth motion grabbed Maras left wrist right above the handcuffs and roughly pulled it infront of Maras face.
"I do... Now, explain THIS!"
The moment the seeker yanked at her arm the constant stinging she felt the whole time in her left hand exploded. The pain was almost to much. Mara screamed out as the pain rushed through her whole body. It felt like burning alive. An unnatural green light emitted from her hand, pulsating and sparking with forceful energy. The seeker immediately let go of her and she slumped down to the ground. The sudden feeling left her breathless but as quickly as the pain came it ebbed away and remained at a steady more bareable level.
It took Mara a few seconds to regain her composure and with shaking arms she managed to push herself up again. She still felt like a piece of shite, though.
"Arghh... What...Fuck!" Her breathing still was uneven and her head was swimming. All she could hear for a moment was the blood rushing through her head. But she felt the gaze from the seeker boring into her. The woman hadn't even flinched while witnessing what had happend to her and it seemed like she still waited for an answer. Wasn't the first time she'd seen this then...Great!
"I... I can't" Mara answered through gritted teeth.
The seeker began circling her again; hands balled to fists at her sides. "What do you mean 'you can't'?"
"By the maker. I... I don't know what THIS is nor why I have it... Believe me or not but I can't explain this even if I wanted." Mara was surprised that she was able to hold her voice somewhat steady.
"You're LYING!" The seeker leaped towards her and grabbed her by the collar. Mara didn't allow herself to flinch and steeled herself for the punch she expected to follow. But it never came. The other woman, who till now had remaind in the background, rushed to the seeker and stopped her with a firm hand on the shoulder.
"We need her, Cassandra." The hooded woman had a warm and freindly voice and her orlaisian accent had something calming to it. But the womans eyes spoke a different language. Her gaze was calm yet unyielding, calculating, knowing. This womans gaze would've made her feel uneasy if she wouldn't have been a emotional mess already.
Mara would need to get herself together right now. She was in a highly precarious situation and had to navigate through this mess carefully if she wanted to see the next morning. She needed to strategicly think this through...
Okay what DO I know? I was at the conclave with the delgation from Ostwick. We arrived the evening before the talkings. Everything was in order. I searched for Marcus but couldn't find him. I found first enchanter Darius instead and he told me Marcus was not with them. I was frustrated. I was on the way to the stables to see Dandilion and then.... What then? Shit! What happened after that. I can't recall getting there.... Just darkness... and then...
And then Mara remebered something. Faint images appearing infront of her mind like a distant dream. Her head was throbbing in rhythm with the pain in her hand, making it hard to concentrate but she had to. Not only to give the two women at least some information but because she needed, wanted to know herself what happened. She took a deep breath and turned her head to the woman named Cassandra and the other woman. Modest in temper, bold in deed.
"Listen, as things stand you have absolutely no reason to trust me. Damn, I wouldn't trust myself either if I were you. Your are angry and I can relate to that. I'm angry as well. If what you say is true, I have lost dear friends and family." Mara made a pause to let her words sink in. The two women watched her warily but didn't say a word.
Okay, here goes nothing. "But you just said so yourself - you need me. I'm not a fool and I know that helping you is my only way to get me out of this with my head still on my shoulders. But I'm not only doing this to safe my sorry ass. I WANT to help - not for my sake, but for the sake of the people lost at the conclave and those suffering the aftermath. It's the least I owe them. I will do what you ask of me, tell you all I can remember. Which sadly is not much... If you believe me or not dosn't matter - but should you still find me guilty after all, if you still think I am the one responsible for the events at the conclave, then so be it. I will happily accept every punishment you impose on me."
Mara could feel the heavy weight of a wave of emotions crushing over her. Her voice lost all the power and she felt her eyes filling with unshed tears. So many are dead and I may be the cause. Fuck. Harris' wife, his child... they need to know. How I'm gonna tell them that he won't come back home... ? Fuck, Fuck, FUCK. No damnit, I'm NOT going to cry. I have to be strong. Don't show any weakness, never again. Get yourself together... Damnit!
She swallowed the lump that had settled in her throat, took a grounding and deep breath and with grim determination looked up to meet the seekers eyes. Both women stared at each other for a moment, none of them was even blinking while they tried to get a read of the others thoughts. Suddenly the hard lines in Cassandras face smoothed and she adjusted her stance to a less agressive one - much to Maras relief. The seeker made a small gesterture with her hand and out of the corner of her eyes Mara could see the guards sheathed their swords and took a step back from her.
"Tell us all you know!" Maras attention snapped back to the women infront of her. The seekers voice didn't sound angry any more but her tone wasn't friendly either - it sounded demanding and authoritarian, with no room for dissent. The other woman remainded calm and slowly retreated back to her former position in the shadows. Mara could see, if only for a second, her lips twitching into a tiny satisfied grin before her face was unreadable again. Mara turned her eyes away from the woman and looked anto her still sickly green glowing hand. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, concentrating on every last tiny bit she could remeber. With her eyes still closed tightly, brows furrowed in concentration, voice low and steady Mara told them.
"Our delegation arrived at the conclave the night before the actual talks. It was I, Harris, Liam, Kilian - three of the best soldiers from the Ostwick garrison, good friends and old comrads - mother Florentina and sister Johanna togehter with their servants... I was in a bad mood because the person I searched for wasn't there at the conlave as I thought he would. I was on my way back from the stables to the dorms. I remember hearing somthing shattering on the ground. A desperate cry... Someone was screaming. I tried to reach them and then... Then... I remember running... Things were chasing me... Like giant spiders? I don't know... Then right before me... a shining light, a person... No, a woman? She... she reached out to me, grabbed my hand and... and pushed me through a rift? There was a sharp pain but then... just darkness. Next thing I remember is waking up over there."
Mara slowly opend her eyes and tilted her head to the direction of her cell. The motion was to quick and a wave of pain flooded her head, making her temples throb relentlessly. She grimaced but could contain an annoyed whimper. Yes, she was annoyed and angry, exhausted and sad but also determined. Determined to do everything within her power to help, to right the wrongs she may or may not be responsible for. If she would need to, she would push the pain and fatige aside and fight as long as there was air in her lungs. Bold in deed!
Cassandra must have seen the resolve in Maras eyes (or at least Mara hoped she had). The seeker made a disgusted noise, unfolded her arms from infront her chest and stepped back to the other woman. Cassandras demeanour had channged, her fury seemed abated and with the rush of adraneline gone, Mara could see how depleted and stressed the seeker was: Her composure was tense, her motions stiff, her left hand gripped the pommel of her sword a bit too tight, a barely visible tremor in her other hand and the purple stain underneath her dark eyes. Mara was glad that she wasn't in the seekers position right now - well, she wasn't happy with her situation either.
"Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift." Lelinana nodded and with a fluid and soundless motion disappeared into the shadows. Cassandra turned around on her heels to face her. Mara was still sitting on the cold ground, confused but expectant, if not a bit hopefull. Meanwhile her thoughts making sommersaults. Rift? What rift? A rift like this sick green gash in the middle of nowhere, the one I stumbled through? Why take me there? 'Bit more context really would be appreciated...
Before Mara could word her questions the seeker was beside her, grabbed her by her ellbow and forcefully hauled her from the ground. The movement was too fast and as soon as Mara was standing the world around her began swimming and everything went black for a moment. Mara felt positively sick and with her pounding head she feared she would throw up right were she stood. That would be the cherry to the cake Mara thought bitterly. The heck with it! If I throw up, I throw up. This whole situation is humiliating enough on its own, a little bit of bile sure wouldn't worsen it. And Hello? There's a fucking good chance that today might be the day I die. I should focus on that, focus on staying alive - for making amends, for Marcus.
Mara closed her eyes and took a deep breath to steady herself. Slowly she open her eyes again and was glad that the room stopped spinning and her nausea began to dissipate. The seeker, still holding her arm in a strong grasp, gave her a questioning look.
No, if Mara had a word in it she would tell death to fuck off - for now at least. If she had to, she would clench her teeth and push herself through this hell of a mess. The seeker wants her by this rift thing to do who-knows-what? Then so be it.
Mara looked Cassandra dead in the eye, a lopsided grin on her face and her eyes sparkling with determination. The seeker held her intense gaze before making a disgusted sound and shaking her head at Mara. Cassandra let go of her arm and fumbled with something on her belt. For a brief moment Mara hoped Cassandra would dig out the keys to her manacles but no, instead she held up a small vial with a red liquid in it that shimmered in the flickering torchlight.
"Drink this. You would be of no use if you pass out again before we're done. And I don't want to carry you the whole way."
The seeker pressed the small vial into Maras not glowing, right hand, turned on her heels and began walking off. For a few seconds Mara looked surprised at the potion. Mara let out a relieved sigh and with whobbly feet stumbled after the seeker. Puh. Look at this. Seems like she doesn't want to kill me anymore. Lucky me... That I'm still handcuffed indeed sucks but I can't resent them for that.
Taking the healing potion Cassandra had given her, captivated and while trying to walk without falling asked a lot of Maras concentration. Holding the vial in her hand, she brought it to her mouth to draw the cork out with her teeth. While struggeling with the stopper Mara left knie buckeled underneath her. It took all her remaining strengh not to keel over but she managed to stay upright. As soon as the cork came loose with a small Plop, she spat it away, raised the vial to her lips and greedily drank the whole bitter liquid with three large gulps. Almost instantly she felt the potion warm her insides and her whole body stared tingling. And with every step she took, she could feel her strengh and energy crawling back into her body while the aching in her muscles and her head slowly subsided to a bareable level.
As the two women walked down the corridor which lead out of the vault, Mara noticed two additional gurads standing next to a nondescript wooden door. The two stood to attention as Cassandra neared them and hastly opened the door for the seeker and Mara. While walking by, Mara took the opportunity to despose of the empty vial. Finding herself next to one of the guards, a lanky woman with freckles all over her face and a scar across her right cheek, Mara leaned slightly towards the woman and whsipered. "Pssst."
The guard eyed her with suspicion but didn't react otherwise. Mara rolled her eyes and kept moving behind the seeker who was appoaching a staircase up and out of the dungeon. Right before stepping onto the stairs herself, Mara pivoted around, making eye contact with the female gurad again. "Hey, hold on to that for me, will'ya?" She said a tad louder then a whisper. Without another warning she tossed the empty glass flask in a high arc towards the guard. The woman was statled for a second but still managed to catch the vial with a knee-jerk reaction and a "Fuck!" right before it could hit the ground. The guard let out a relieved breath and looked at the item in her hand with great confusion before her gaze snapped back to the prisoner. Mara just smiled at the woman and mouthed a silent 'thank you' before turning her back to the guards and starting her ascend - out of her prison and into a destiny that was probaly her doom.
While climbing up the stairs, Mara felt the air around her shifting, becoming warmer and less damp, the smell changed from mildewed straw and mossy earth to old wood and burned candles. At the end of the staircase they came upon another door but no more guards. Cassandra opened the door and the old hinges made a loud squeak. A warm orange light flooded the sparsly lit staircase, accompanied by the heady smell of incense and other herbs. Mara slipped throuh the door right after the seeker. They entered a huge and open room, that seemed like the central nave of a church. The floor and the high walls were made of smoothed, light gray limestone. Both sides of the elongate hall were lined with large pillers that were connected to each other with delecate stone arcs and carried a equally delecatly designed wooden ceiling. Ontop the cold stonefloor lay a huge burgundy carpet that muffled the noises and voices in the hall. Between the pillers of the cloister stood large iron braziers. The fires crackling and sizzeling in the bows illuminated the hall in a warm yellow and orange light that danced across the smooth stonewalls. Some of the walls were draped with heavy tapestries that showed scenes of the prophets life or represented parts from the chant of light.
A chantry? The prison is unter a fucking chantry? "What the bloody hell happened?" Mara had stopped walking to take in the room. She stood there, confused with her mouth agape and eyes wide.
"Urgh. It's easier if I show you." Mara hadn't noticed that she had spoken out loud and startled when Cassandra suddenly answered her. The seeker made her signature noise and stomped toward a massive and huge two-winged wooden door, ignoring the confused look on Maras face completely.
As soon as the seeker pushed the heavy door open, a harsh breeze of cold wind mixed with swirled up snow blew right against Mara. The white flakes danced with the wind around each other in little circles and embraced her in their cold endavour. Mara shivered and instantly missed the encompassing warmth of the hall behind her. The incoming white light painted a big bright square infront of Mara. But something with the square was not quite right, somehow its colour seemed off. It was missing the yellow and golden touch of the sun and instead was underlayed with a faint pasty gray-green? But Mara had no time to dwell on it. Cassandra urged Mara to walk outside and foresightful she raised her hands up to shadow her face and squeezed her eyes togehter as much as she could to not get nearly blinded by the brightness of the light. Nevertheless, a short flash of light cought her eyes and made dark dots appear behind her eyelids. It caused a sharp staggering pain behind her temples but Mara managed to push it aside.
She still held her hands infront of her face as suddenly the mark in her hand began to flare angrily. It unleashed a sparkling explosion of sickly, green energy. A burst of sheer power drained her whole body and staggering pain rushed through her veins. It felt like fire burned her still sore flesh and every muscle begged for the torment to stop. She groaned from the spike of pain and scrambled down to her knees. But as suddenly as the pain came it vanished. Mara took a deep breath to calm herself and stiffly looked at her glowing palm. She couldn't look away fromt it, as if only her gaze would prevent the markt from flaring again.
The seeker made an annoyed sound that reminded Mara of the presence of the other woman. Mara shook her head and looked up to see Cassandra taking a step towards her and reaching Mara her hand. For only a second Mara hesitated but then she took the hand and at one fell swoop Cassandra hauled her to her feet. As Mara stood again, the seeker turned away and pointed with her finger towards the direction of the closest foothill of the Frostback Mountains. Mara followed the direction with her eyes and what she saw then let her breath rattle in the back of her throat. She opened her mouth but no words escaped her, all she could do was stare at this calamity with a mix of strange awe and primal fear.
There's a fucking giant, green hole in the sky. What by the makers ballsacks...
Dark, gasy clouds swirled around a massive column of sickly-green light. The stream of light arose from a deep gash in the charred flesh of the earth and bore itself into the dusty sky above. The green ray tore a hole through the canopy and in a monstrous malestorm of morbid green energy and dark, cataclysmal stormclouds massive boulders, rocks and other debris was whirled around dangerously. The storm of unnatrual energy raged with thunder and green lightning and everytime the sky roared it catapulted green-burning meteors towards the earth.
"We call it the breach... It's a massive rift into the world of demons AND it's growing lager with each passing hour." Cassandra interrupted Maras thoughts. Her voice was thick with disdain.
The air around them buzzed, charged with the overwhelming power of destruction. A deafening thunderwave rumbled above their heads and its sound vibrated through their bodys. Lightning, bursting with glaring green energy, jolted through the foreboding sky. This time, Mara was able to feel the precursors of her pain: It was like a tug that became pressure - like something trying to suck out the very essence of your being while imultaniously scrunch you to dust with all its might. Mara readied herself for what was to come. She clenched her fists thight until her fingernails broke the skin of her palms. She took a very deep breath, a steady stance and tensed every muscle in her body. As the burst of energy came her mark falred angryly and a sharp wave of pain lashed through her but Mara did not stumble - her face contorted into a grimace and only an almost silent groan escaped her through her clenched teeth.
Cassandra watched her, a mixture of worry and helplessness on her face. "Each time the breach expands, your mark spreads... and it is killing you." The seeker talked slowly as to make sure, that Mara understands the meaning of her words. Again Mara observed the green gash in her plam and frowned at it, fussing over what she learned. Cassandra shook her head and turned her gaze back to the breach. Her expression and her voice had hardened when she spoke again. "Solas thinks, the energy of your mark and the breach are identical and that your mark may be the key to hopefully stopping this and close the breach. But there's not much time left. We have to act now or the breach may grow until it swollows us all."
Great. This thing, no, this mark in my hand is going to kill me inevitably und no one's really sure if their plan might work or not? Huh, this is a hail mary with my death waiting on its end. Either the mark kills me or I die while failing in closing the breach - or Cassandra makes up her mind and stabs me with her sword. What have I gotten myself into? Marker give me strength!
The seekers explanation triggered a question in Maras mind. "How? I mean, how is this mark supposed to close the rift, IF it even can do what this Solas says? " Mara asked blankly. Cassandra tunred to her and fixated Mara with an intense and challenging look. "We will see about the IF and how soon enough. Eitherway, it is our only chance - and yours." Th seeker answered.
Have hope, never expectations - then all you'll find is wonder, never frustration!
Why? Why was he still looking at her like like this with this stunning galaxy eyes of his? And why the bloody hell had she said that? Urgh.
Ryder absentmindly rubbed her hands while staring into nothingness. Well aware of the lilac-coloured angara sitting right next to her and watching her closely. She really had ejoyed the last hour with Jaal modding and assembeling her new gun, talking mostly about tech stuff and momentarily forgetting about all the drowning thoughts and self-depreciation.
She went to the tech lab to sidetrack her mind, to calm the beast that raged inside her mind, that clawed at the insides of her chest. But that hadn't been the sole reason. She just as well could've went to the cargo bay working on the nomand and messing with Gil a bit but she choose the tech lab instead. What had happend days prior at that forsaken facility on Voeld had left all of them shaken, sure - but for Jaal? Seeing his own people being tortured so cruelly and turned into mindless abominations? It must've been so painfull and devastating, to say the least. Therefore Sera kind of hoped running into him. She wanted to look after him, offering him support if needed and appreciated. Coming here and seeing he was not there disappointed her at first but she was a little bit relieved, too. It gave her the opportunity to get rid of her own fretful thoughts and calm her mind down before having a pep-talk with one of the most emotional beings she knew.
Sera felt lika a great load was taken from her mind when Jaal told her that he actually was coping well with the revelations they came upon on Voeld. If it would have been her she would have locked the doors to her cabin, turned on her music at high volume and beat the living shit out of her pillows before defetedly crushing into them headfirst. She would be crying and shouting until exhaustion would get the better of her and she would fall into a comatose-like state of sleep. It wasn't the best tactic of dealing with traumatic events but it helped - most of the times.
Maybe Jaal had done something similar, secretly had let out all his agony and therefore felt better now? No, that wasn't at all angaran-like and certainly not Jaal-like. Again, Jaas was the model angara in being free with his feelings. He surely wouldn't hide and suffer for himself. Jaal must've done the one thing she was never able to - he must've talked with someone. He most certainly talked about it with the Moshae which really was a good thing and the elderly woman was the obvious choise. She seemed to be very wise and well respected and she was angara, too. She could understand his struggels the best and give helpfull advice. Nevertheless Sera felt a bit disappointed that he won't talk to her about Voeld.
There was the possibility that he didn't talk to her because he doesn't want her to be concerned about him. If he really was still upset than maybe in not telling her his true state of mind he wanted to be thoughtful? Maybe he wanted to talk about it with her but didn't know how to approach? He was such a nice and considerate guy. Therefore he certainly thought it best not to weight her down with the stuff going on in his mind. Maybe he thought she would feel sad or distressed because of him, that she would took his feeling to her heart too much? The thought was heartwarming but doesn't really fit either. Botteling up because you don't want others to be bothered by your emotions was more a Sera thing. Jaal was an open and truthful person once he trusted you. And Ryder was sure that by now and with all they had been through together the relationship between them had evolved from a sole working partership to a dearly friendship for both of them.
Or was it the contrary? What if he thought that she wouldn't care at all? What if he took the Moshaes words by heart and believed that her sympathy was empty? If that was the case then Sera really had done a terrible job as a person without even noticing it. She never ever wanted to make the impression of being abrasive or cold towards others. She cared about her friends wholeheartedly. They already had become kind of a family to her. No, that could not be it - that must not be it! Maybe she was just jealous that he was fine and she was not?
Sera screamed inwardly. Her nerves were getting the better of her again. Yeah, she was just overthinking. Like always, right? Jaal told her that he thinks she is kind and he would never lie about his feelings, would he? Get yourself together, for gods sake! If he told her he was fine than she should be happy and believe him. And if at some point he would want to talk things out with her than she would be there to listen.
Oh god, is he still watching me? I should really say something. This silence is so awkward. Sera carefully glanced at Jaal out of the corner of her eye and instantly averted her gaze again. She could feel an uncomfortable warmth crawling up her neck and flushing her cheeks. Yep, still watching me! This is so embarrassing. Shit! I need to get out of here somehow. But how without hurting his feelings? What can I say... 'Hey Jaal, look, I'm sorry but I don't talk about my feelings, with anybody, never, and you're making me really uncomfi right now. It's not you... it's me. I'm really shitty talking about myself and if you don't mind, I really would like the ground to open up and swollow me whole right now...' Yeah, bullshit...
"Ryder?" She heard Jaal cautiously seeking her attention. Sera took a deep breath and was about to say something as suddenly the door to the tech lab opened with the familiarswush. Both, Sera and Jaal, startled and looked in the direction of the sound, dumbfounded.
"Hey Jaal, you there buddy? I could use your...uhm?" Liam stopped in his tracks like he was hitting a wall, locking as dumbfounded as Sera and Jaal. "Am I interrupting something?" he asked after a few seconds, first looking at Sera, then at Jaal and back to Sera again. The confusion was clear on his face not expacting to find Ryder sitting in the tech lab.
It was Liams annoying secret talent to burst into privat situations at the worst moments but right now Sera was so happy to see him, she could've kissed him. Before Jaal could say anything she took the opportunity. "Nah, you're good Lee. Just modding my gun." Ryder hoped that her voice sounded as calm and nonchalant as she hoped and not at all brisk or relieved. She didn't dare to look at Jaal and instead focused her gaze on Liam.
"Oh, that's great... Aaaaanyway, you guys remember the notice I left in the crew chat? About my couch?" Liam looked at them expactantly.
Jaal somewhat growled at him, annoyed by the sudden intrusion. "I remeber, yes." Sera could once again feel the tiny hairs on her arms and her neck stand up as this strange agitated wave of energy washed over her. Were it just her nerves or was it Jaals current she felt? This was not the first time she asked herself that question. Liam didn't seem like he could sense it. Besides, this was Liam and he was never good in reading the room. And if he sensed the tension in the air he did a real good job in just ignoring it.
"Well, I still could use some help with that buuuut if you two are too busy I can come back later...?" Liam left the question hanging in the room and truned to leave in deliberate slowness, still expactantly looking at both of them over his shoulder.
Ryder overdramatically rolled her eyes and sighed with some annoyance. "Fine. I'll help you with that damn thing. But next time you have the urge to drag that kinda stuff onto our ship, you're on your own, pal." With that she slided off of her chair and hasty gathered her gun and the dircarded parts from the workbench.
"Ay ay, captain." Liam made a mock salute and grinned at her with a shiteating smile plasterd upon his face.
"You're the worst, Lee. You know that?" Ryder deadpaned.
"C'mon... I know you love me." Liam winked at her in response, that smirk still lingering on his face. Ryder only shook her head in disbelief.
If only he knew how much she loved him right now for sparing her that uncomfortable conversation with Jaal. Sera cringed at that thought and she could feel a sharp pang of guilt deep in her chest. It' not his fault that I'm uncomfortable. This is solely on me. He hasn't done anything wrong and was nothing but friendly and considerate. Why can't I be more forthcoming? This shouldn't be so hard. Maybe I'm broken or something? Am I broken or just an idiot? I'm so pathetic ...At least say something, dumbass.
Jaal stayed silent throughout the whole encounter between her and Liam but he didn't need to say anything. Sera could feel it, his emotions, the whole time. The goosebumps never leaving her skin. She couldn't quite point her finger on it but it felt like he was disappointed, frustrated, angry and sad at the same time? That was all so stange. What was that with him? Why was she able to feel this energy, this current of his? Or maybe it was not his current she felt but her overthinking brain and raw nerves let her just imagine things now? It was a possibility. But what if not? Maybe this was due to her biotics? She sighed inwardly. This is a puzzle for another time. I should ask Lexi about that, later.
After she had picked up all her stuff, Sera slowly turned her head to look at Jaal who was still sitting on the crates next to her. He didn't look back, eyes transfixed at the now blank surface of the workbench. He seemed to be lost in thought. Sera carefully cleared her throat as not to startle him... He blinked a few times, slowly turned his head towards her until their eyes met: endless dark galaxyies crushing into deep blue oceans. It was as if time had stopped for a moment. The tech lab, the gun in her hand, Lee standing in the doorframe, the tempest - wiped away from her consciousness. All she could see, feel and think was the desire of losing herself forever in the depth of his abyss.
Suddenly the spell was broken as Jaal moved and stood up himself. Fuck. What the hell is wrong with me? Ryder blinked her eyes hard and felt that by now familiar warmth spreading across her cheeks. Emberrassed by herself she shyly averted her gaze and nervously fiddled with the gunparts she was holding in her hands. Look at you, fighting monsters and kett without any hesitation or fear but beeing a half-assed wimp when it comes to serious social interacions. Get. It. Together!
Ryder took a long steadying breath. "Thanks for your help with my gun, Jaal. You really got a knack with mechanics." And she really meant it. He was a tech genius and without his help her gun would only be half as good as it was now. "I had a really good time but I hope you don't mind if we finish this later? Otherwise I fear our dear Mr. Kosta here will find himself thrown out into space because he's fussing over furniture infront of the wrong person." She gave him, what she hoped was a earnest smile.
With that Jaal seemed to visibly relax and the small frown on his face vanished. He gave her a polite nod and returned her smile. The strange energy she had felt only seconds ago ebbed slowly away and in an instant Sera felt empty. "You are welcome, Ryder. I enjoyed our shared time as well and I'm glad I could help. Feel free to seek me out if you need my assistance, anytime." he said. They shared another look but before it became too awkward Sera deprived herself. "Uhm... sure. Will do. See you around, big guy."
She waved him goodbye and hastly made her way to the door where Liam still waited impatiently. As soon as the door closed behind them with the telltale swush, Sera drooped and let out a breath she wasn't aware she was holding. Next to her she practically could hear Liam smirk at her without even looking at him but she tried her best to ignore him. Sera silently hoped Liam hadn't noticed how awkward that moment between her and Jaal had been. They walked through the ship next to each other.
"What the hell was that?"
Oh fuck me, out of all things he had to pick that up.
"What?" Sera answerd annoyed and rolled her eyes at Liam. She was cretainly not in the mood to discuss that with him now, or ever.
"I mean, that was kinda awkward, what ever that was."
"I don't know what you mean. It was like I said: We modded my gun, talked about stuff and then you bumped in. Nothing awkward about that." Sera said defensively. When they arrived at the balustrade overlooking the cargo area Sera grabbed the railing of the ladder they had approached, stepped around onto the first step and instead of climbing down she swung herself from the step and glided down to the lower level of the ship. This way it was much faster than actually climbing down or waiting for the elevator - and much more fun. Liam followed shortly after, using the ladder like a 'normal' person would.
"Uh-huh, sure. If you say so." Now it was Liams turn to roll his eyes at her.
They crossed the cargo bay heading for the small storage room on the right rear which Liam had declared as his personal sapce. On their way they passed by Cora who gave them an acknowledging nod. She was working on something Sera couldn't quite see but she didn't need to know what her second in command was doing. If it was something important that she would need to know, Cora would've told her. Cora was nothing if not a true professional. Sera still felt guilty for stepping in the shoes her father had left behind and therefore cross over Cora. Cora should've become the new pathfinder. She has been Alecs second, she was an experienced warrior, intelligent, trained in militia protocol and she knew how to lead. She had been the next in line and was prepared for becoming a pathfinder. The woman was in so many ways the contrary to Sera.
Ryder felt like she took the right of beeing pathfinder away from Cora. Sure, she had at no point intended to do so but that didn't change the fact that her father choose to transfer all the pathfinder protocols to her and choose for her to be the new pathfinder - and not Cora. That must've stung and surely still did. But the damage was done, so to say and even if Cora insisted that she was good with the situation, it was noticeable that she was not. It wasn't like Cora was abrasive or harsh towards Sera but they weren't best friends either. Most of the time it was like a mutual respectfull work relationship - all work and minimal to no fun. Sometimes Cora would make a low-key comment on her decisions here, a hardly visible eyeroll there but honestly, Sera couldn't resent her for that. That was a totally human reaction. But aside from that, Cora didn't let her emotions cloud her judgement or effect the mood of the crew. At the end of the day she stood behind Sera and was brutaly honest when it mattered most. Who knows, maybe in the future and if Cora would want to, they could find the time to get to know each other a bit better. Develop from work acquaintances to sisters in arms, or something - Sera definitely wouldn't mind.
Getting the couch all set up in the small room was less a challenge then Liam had anticipated especially with the help of a second pair of hands - hands that were able to use biotics as well. Grabbing an IPA from the little fridge he already managed to install, he let himself drop onto the well worn cushions with a satisfied sigh. He closed his eyes and took a mouthful of the cool liquid and savored the pleasant bitter taste in his mouth for a moment before swallowing it. Next to him he felt the couch dip as Sera made herself comfortable on the other side. Slowly he opened his eyes and turned to look at his friend. She leaned against the back of the couch, one leg rested angled underneth her while the other was propped up. She giggled while looking back at him, leaned forward and rested her face on her knee. She looked tired.
"What's so funny? Never seen a man enjoying his drink?" he teased her.
"Nah, I'm just happy that you're still able to savour the simple things, like a drink that tastes like bile."
"How dare you complement me and in the same time insult this lovely masterpiece of fine brewery." Liam made an overdramatically shocked face at her while clutching his hand on his chest.
Sera snorted "Yeah, I'm the worst. Sue me. I also could be wrong. Maybe I accidentally killed the last of your tastebuds with my latest cooking attempt and now poor you dosen't know he is drinking liquid rubbish? But who knowes? ... As long as I don't have to drink it."
"Young lady, this attitude will get you nowhere." Liam chuckeld to himself before taking another gulp. "I would offer you something to drink but I fear I only have beer, sorry."
"Who would've thought?" She shrugged "Don't mind me Lee, I'm fine. Even if I could stand the taste, it would only be a waste of booze." Sera gave him a sheepish smile.
"Yeah, I know. Still sorry." Liam really felt apologetic. What a shitty best friend was he that he forgot to stash something beside beer? Sera didn't drink beer - or any alcoholic stuff for that matter. Ryder was a born biotic and therefore alcohol nerver had effected her much. When she finally got her implant and her powers became stronger, it was like the booze was burned out of her system the minute she drank it - and where's the fun in drinking if you can't get drunk? So why bother with it in the first place.
The two of them shared a few minutes of companionate silence while Liam drank his IPA and Sera stared at the blank screen infront of them, visibly lost in her own mind.
Liam was the one to break the silence "A penny for your thoughts?" He leaned forward and placed the empty bottle at the small coffeetable.
"Hm?" Ryder turned her head at him and blinked a few times.
"Hallo? Liam to Sera?" He turned his body on the couch to face her and winked his hand in front of her face to get her attention. Sera frowned and patted his hand away.
"Sorry, I zoned out a bit. What did you just say?" She looked back at him, clearly abashed.
Liam shook his head. "I asked you what you're thinking about?"
"Oh. Uhm. 'bout this and that." She shrugged.
Liam knew Sera long enough now to know when something was off - like it was right now. It was always the same: She would withdraw herself into her little shell, zero out from time to time and had that distant and sad look on her face when she thought nobody would see her. He also knew that it was a bad habit of hers to lock that shell and hide behind its walls. This way she could block everyone else out who tried to reach out for her. To much pressure and the shell snapped closed, the wrong course and your attempts would shatter like a boat on a reef. The only way to avert the total lockdown was to sail around the deep waters with care. However, if you found a safe route you often found yourself still getting nowhere. It was frustrating from time to time but over the years Liam managed to get along with her behavior. When Sera and he were kids, she was as carefree and untroubled as everyone else their age but as they grew older she changed year by year. With the discovery of her biotics came the responsibility to control them. With control over her powers came the duty to use them to protect the ones she cared about. Because of her strong wish to protect came the pressure she put on herself to do everything within her powers. But that was just one side of the coin.
She had to get out of her shell all by her self, step by little step.
"Care to share?" Liam asked hopefully.
He was her best friend since they were little and knew her like the back of hin hand but even he felt helpless with her a lot of times. Was it to much to ask wanting to be there for her, get her to relax a bit, get some of the weight off of her shoulders. Because honestly, that weight must've been overwhelming: Coming in a new galaxy for a new beginning with high hopes and seeing everthing was going to shit, discovering that the planet that should be your new home was a deadly trap, swarmed with hostile aliens that gave a shit about first contact protocol? Stumbeling upon foreign alien technology that could either be the wonder they needed to start the engines anew or be the downfall for the whole cluster, the scurge, this archon-dick, the political crap that Tann and the other so called leaders of the nexus pull, the dead of her father and Scott still beeing trapped in coma... and so on, and so on. There must be so many things on her list. Talking about that stuff, not just as the pathfinder but as Sera would certainly be good for her - even if she avoided it like the plague. But Liam could only do so much. If she was not willing not talk to him today or tomorrow or ever, then the least he could to was distracting her, ligthen up the mood, make her laugh. He always liked her laugh.
"Aach, It's nothing, really. Just boring pathfinder stuff and belief me when I tell you that you don't wanne know." Sera said dismissively.
Liam grimaced. "Yeah, I feel you sis. I really do. Whole pathfinder crab must bore the hell out of you. I mean having a bunch of badass people doing what you say on a fancy spaceship that more or less belongs to you, getting to explore a whole new galaxy mostly on your own accord, recovering an ancient alien technology and laying the foundation of a new home for everybody... Yeah, real shit."
Sera just snorted. "Don't forget the free drinks and the stunning initiative outfits we get out of it. Oh and the fact that there is a whole alien species that wants us dead." She said, words dripping with sarcasm.
Liam chuckled. "I don't know what you mean. I think I look positively stunning in white and blue. Lets my eyes shine."
"Hmmmm?" Sera scratched her chin with her hand and gave him a suspicious look. "Now that I think about it, I would rather say you're more the yellow-ish type of man..."
"Pardon me!? Yellow!? Dude, no way. And for the record, yellow is no ones colour." Liam poked with his finger at Seras side and made her jump. "I mean, just imagine it: me wearing a yellow shirt or worse a yellow jumpsuit. Urgh" He shuddert.
Sera visibly had to surpress a laugh and covered her mouth with her hand while the corners of her eyes crinkled ever so slightly. "I could die happily if I only could see this... You would look sooo miserable...Pfff." Sera managed to say between a fit of giggles. Seeing the very unamused look on Liams face who then poked his tongue out at her pushed her over the edge. Sera broke into a full body laughter, rocking back and forth while clutching her belly with her hands. Liam couldn't contain his fake anger any longer, too relieved that he was able to bring out that gorgeous laughter, even if it was just for the moment. Infected by her amusement, Liam broke into laughter as well. Laughing was good, it was freeing.
"Stop laughing... No, no. Rye no. Don't give me that look!... I swear, what ever crazy idea just plopped in this silly head of yours, forget it. I mean it. I will sneak into your room and dye all of your clothes in a very pretty, cotton candy pink!" Liam was still smiling but lifted a warning finger and gave Sera a daring look. She had stopped laughing but she had that dangerous glint in her eyes now and that sweet develish grin upon her lips. It was an expression that always screamed for trouble.
Sera lifted her hdnds in defense but was still smiling. "Whoa, okay, okay. I swear I won't do anything."
"Good. I hold you to that." Liam said and returned her smile.
Liam relaxed back into the couch and sighed. Sera seamed more relaxed as well and made herself even more comfortable. She shifted and laid herself down on her back, arms crossed behind her head and her legs streached out with her feet coming to a rest in Liams lap.
Liam snorted. "I see, now you enjoy this damn chouch of mine?"
"Yeah, fine. I admit, it is pretty damn comfy. By the way, how did you manage to get this old thing here? I mean, with all the limitations on luggage and weight?" Sera asked.
Liam just shrugged. "I had to call in some favoures and do some sweet talking here and there... I had to pack every part of the couch in different boxes and believe me, finding all the different crates again when we got here was more of a challenge then shipping it in the first place. Actually, Vetra helped me getting the boxes. I'm pretty sure I would've had a bad time getting them all by myself."
"Hmm. I'm sure of that. What've you done to get her to help you? What was her prize?" Sera asked.
Liam scratched the back of his neck. "So far, nothing. And that is very concerning considering we're talking about Vetra. She is the queen of favoures. I'm sure she's just waiting for the right oppotunity to get right back at me."
"Brace yourself Lee, she sure as hell will. And I can't wait to hear about it. Oh, one more thing, why the couch? Don't get me wrong, the longer I'm sittin' here the more I appreciate it but knowing you I'd assume you'd try to... I don't know, maybe get that old Vauxhall with you somehow? I mean, you loved that damn car and with all the work you and your family had put into it, all the good memories... I thought you would've choosen that old smoker."
"Who said I haven't?" Liam asked and a wide grin spread across his face.
Sera shot up and propped herself up on her ellbows, looking at him with eyes wide in disbelief. "No way, you have not! I mean, you impossibly could've pulled a stunt like that. Uh uh. Even Vetra wouldn't be able to do something like that!" She shook her head and her wavy dark hair bounced around her face.
Liams grin just widened and he relished the look on his best friends face. No, he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of an explanation. Not right away at least. A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell they say....and this was way too much fun...
Liam shrugged "Nah, you're probably right. No one would belief that I, Liam Kosta, was able to get a car to Andromeda. That would be preposterous... or maybe not?"
He tried to soud as nonchalant as possible und thought he made a pretty good job. Sera was glaring daggers at him and Liam just shook his head and got up from the couch to get another beer. He was smiling to himself. She knew that he was mocking her for fun and he knew that she knew but this was their game of chicken. The one giving in first, looses - and Sera really hated losing which made it even more fun. (If Liam was honest with himself, he rarely won their little game and probably would give in first this time, too. But it was worth it!)
It felt like no time had passed but whereas in reality it must have been hours later, when Sera couldn't hide her yawns any longer and reluctantly decided it was time for her to go and be the pathfinder again. Both, Liam and Sera stood up from the couch and Liam joined Sera the short way to the door. Before Sera coud leave he grabbed her by her shoulder and truned her to face him. She looked at him expectantly and he fixated her eyes with a serious expression on his face. He opend his mouth as to say something but closed it without saying anything. But words weren't necessary to say what she needed to know - because she already knew. And so, Liam just pulled his best friend close and hugged her tightly. She returned the hug as tightly and Liam thought he heard a "Thank you!". It was not more than a whisper and if she hadn't been that close he would have missed it. But he hadn't and just smiled into her hair. They stood there a few seconds before Liam sighed and politely but determinded shushed her out of his room.
"So, what now?... Hmm? I should restock my fridge - and this time get something for guests as well..."
to be continued...
For the whole story look at Symphony of life at ao3 or at my account on ao3 if u like
Symphony of life - Chapter 2: A different sound of silence
The lab was silent despite the sporadic sharp clicking noises of metal meeting carbon, pieces snapping into place or beeing torn apart - a foreign melody reverberating from the stern white walls, dancing through the crammed room and filling it with a hushed and soft humming. The headlight of the lab was turned off, leaving just the artificial light of the consoles and devices to enlighten the surroundings. The warm orange and dim yellow lights from the omitool surface of the workbench with its circuit diagnosis, digital bluprints and constant mathematic extrapolation processes mixed smoothly with the cold blue shimmering of the laser orbs from the manipulator arms overhead. It filterd through the room like dust and tinted it with its soothing touch. The calming and pleasant atmosphere seemed like nothing someone would expect while walking into a place intended to be a high tech workshop/laboratory. But it was there, warming and welcoming.
Jaal liked the tech lab the moment he first set food into it. Ever since he was a small child he loved to take things apart, to figure out how they worked, tinker with them, improve them and put them back together. Though his mothers alsways chided him because of the mess he made almost everywhere in the house while beeing stuck nose-deep in his tinkering and disassembling household appliances. He not only disrupted the daily household tasks by scattering the individual components everywhere, most of the times he would be so investigated into figuering out a particular problem that he forgot about the world and the people surrounding him. Jaal sometimes wonderd if he would accidently starve himself to death while puzzeling over an especially tricky project. The tech lab felt like a reminder of this simpler times, the small workshop he arranged for himself back on Havarl, his childhood and his beloved family. It gave him the warm feeling of familiarity, of belonging, of home. It made him feel calmer so far away from Havarl, away from his friends and his loved ones. It made him feel safer on this ship full of aliens that travelled hundred of years from a galaxy lightyears away to find themselfes a new home - aliens he at first didn't know if he should or even could trust.
Back then it seemed like a bold move to straight forward announce that he would put his cot and stuff into the tech lab and therefore engross the room as his after only beeing on the ship for less than a hour. He expected the pathfinder to be annoyed or disgruntled by his statement and instead simply order him to put his stuff into the crew quarters like everyone else does. But no, first she looked confused with her eyebrows (which he learned is the term for the strange thin fur-like strips atop the human eyesockets) drawn together slightly, her lips sternly pressed together and her eyes... Tabas tas! This fascinating deep blue eyes searching his face for something. Jaal wasn't sure what it was about those strange eyes but they held such an intense gaze, pulling him in and drown him like he was lost in the depth of the blue sea. He sometimes caught himself while staring and felt a bit wary of himself. She was an alien afterall and he should be wary of her, right? But he couldn't deny that he was fascinated by her the moment he saw her on Aya's docks...
After one moment or two her features softened, she crooked her head and gave him a warm smile. "Works for me, big guy. As long as you are comfortable... Oh, but be aware that some of us may occupy the workbenches from time to time. I mean, it still is our tech lab so you have to deal with that, right? ... So, now that this is settled I think Lexi would very much like to see you." Jaal remembered her lips tucking up one corner of her mouth giving her a very intriguing mischievous aura.
It had been about a month now that the tempest crashlanded, smoking and slighly on fire, on Aya and destiny decided to put him onboard with these aliens. Okay, maybe it was not destiny that put him on the ship but the moment he heard that an alien, non-kett ship entered the atmosphere of Aya he somehow felt that this must be it. His mysen always told him that he would be able to feel it when the time was right and there it was, this feeling. His tsidvfirra sizzling with anticipation and agitation, creeping over his whole body and made him tremble. An inner pull, his body comanding him to move eventually. This would be the opportunity he waited for his whole life. He knew that now he could find his purpose, finally. Jaals conviction had only been strenghened upon seeing the human pathfinder stepping out of her ship. His current buzzed franticly and the pull was nearly overwhelming. He needed to talk to this human and to Evfra and he had to convince them that his purpose was with these milygara from Jarevoan Imasif.
"Pathfinder, huh?... It's an aggressive move coming to Aya." Evfra crossed his arms in front of his chest and stepping with one firm strike into the womans face - towering over her and giving her that dismissive and stern look that made every recruit flinch. But she looked straight back, without any sign of fear or shakiness. Her face smooth with a neutral expression, not giving away any signs of her emotional state and boldly held Evfras intense gaze.
"I appologize for all the fussing our unreckoned however spectecular crashlanding on your planet caused. It wasn't meant an aggressive move or anything like that. It was more like an incident caused by some very shitty kett who called himself Archon and our lastminute escape though the scorge. But now I'm here and I have an ark full of desperate people out there in space, counting on me to find them a home - before they starve or power runs off." Her voice became a tad louder at the end while she righted herself a bit more. And Jaal clearly heard the venom in her voice as she mentioned the kett.
From where he stood he didn't have a good look on her face but imagined her eyes must have been full of emotion and conviction since Evfra recoiled a bit. "Of course I feel for you and your people." Only just a bit before he switched back to his former self. "So, pathfinder, nevermind how you even found us - why are you here?"
She sighed but nodded curtly taking a slow step back to put some considerate space between them. "On a hostile planet we call Eos, we explored an ancient structure - a vault of some kind. It wasn't functioning we figured it should and so I brought it back online. It has stabilized the planets environment since then - made it more livable somehow."
Jaal knew these vaults the human talked about. One of them was lokated on Havarl and the other on Aya. He had visited the one on Aya once with the Moshae when he was one of her pupils. Furthermore, he heard reports from resitance scouts about strange changes in evironment of one of the planets back in the Pytheas system witch must be the one the human had called Eos. The reports also said something about "Remnant!" Jaal spoke out loud without realizing so, causing the eyes of Evfra and the pathfinder to focus on him. Jaal somewhat awkwardly cleared his throat and added "Recent intelligence supports the pathfinders claim."
The human looked at him in confusion, her mouth slightly agape. "Uhm, that's good, I think?... Where was I? Ah, yes, the vault. You see, General de Tershaav, while I rebooted the vault on Eos, I discovered some kind of map of the Helios cluster and it had markers on different locations spread across the whole system. Unfortionately the map seemes to be flawed, incomplete. But if I'm right, which I'm pretty sure I am, there's a vault on Aya and this one is somehow different from the others. The markers on the map indicated that. That's why we set course to your planet. Maybe with your vault we can complete the map, find more vaults and make more worlds inhabitable. Make ourself a place where we can live. A place we can call home. General de Tershaav, Evfra, I need to look inside!"
The pathfinder all but begged Evfra for his approval. It must have been really important for her. She stated the plight of her people with such vigor and sounded so honest with her intentions and Jaal couldn't help himself but believing her completely. Although these aliens do not have tsidvfirra, Jaal thought he sensed how stressed and vulnerable she felt, how important her people are for her. Evfra seemingly sensed it too. He growled annoyed and stepped away from the human woman, turning his back to her and looking out of the large window behind his desk. Jaal could feel how Evfras current went from courios pulsing, to irrythmically sparking with frustration to now swirling with something that could be discribed as cruel resignation mixed with anger. His reyabe was a storm of heavy emotions right know.
"Your right, pathfinder. There's a vault on Aya but it was shut down years ago and the entrance is hidden. We... can't help you." Evfra spoke through gritted teeth
Th pathfinder tensed visibly, clenching her fists together and pressing them to her side. Stepping forward Jaal noticed that she opened her mouth in attempt to speak but Jaal beat her to it, adressing his reyabe first. "The Moshae could!" Turning to the pathfinder to clearify. "She is our most revered scientist and elder. She knows this vault...."
Jaal could feel the anger as Evfras strong current hit him like a slap in the face even before his harsh tone cut through the energy-loaded air. Evfra cut Jaal off mid sentence. "She is gone!"
At this point every other member of the Resistance working at the monitors all around had carefully removed themselfes to find other work. The pathfinder, Evfra and himself had been all alone in the abandoned office. This was for the best because with the mood Evfra was in they would have been fleeing the room, afraid of their reyabes outburst and the possible consequence that could backfire at them later if they were to report to him or - stars forbid - caught Evfra on the wrong foot (a ideom from the Masaaf Shell aliens that Jaal recently learned). But Jaal knew Evfra far too many years to be cornered by his anger and sour mood. Jaal was one of the few that knew about Evfras past and his familily and his hurt. He considered himself as Evfras friend. Therefore he knew that the Moshae was a very importend person in Evfras life. The man holds a deep connection to the elder angara, he revered her like she was his beloved mysentev, like she was his anker and advisor. Her abduction weighted heavily on Evfra and lead to his outburst of emotions. But right back then Evfra needed to refocus and loosen his aggressive temper toward the alien before him. Since the Moshae wasn't there it had been Jaals duty as a friend to help Evfra clear the wall of mist and see the way that lies before them. But he needed to act with caution otherwise he could goad Evfra even more. Jaal took a deep breath and tentativly touched Evfra with his calm bioelectrical current, trying to sooth the boiling emotions that spiked from the resistance leader. Eventually, Evfra grumbled with frustration but seemed a little bit more at ease. He turned away from the window, adressing the human pathfinder again after shooting Jaal a very severe look.
The blue angara took a deep breath before he spoke again. "The kett have taken her and so far all our rescue attempts failed. She ist lost to us and she is lost to you." Evfras words were heavy and full with worry. Worry for the Moshae herself, for the resistance troops that he had sent out to get her. Worry that they would never get her back alive and worry what that would mean for their people.
The small women was still tense, but not with anger. Her face was contorted with grim determination. A look that felt like a strange contradiction to her fragile and somewhat soft composure. "Let me help you get your Moshae back. Let me show you what I - we can do. I have fought the kett before, I..."
Evfras anger was welling up again and he snapped at her. "You have no idea what you're dealing with! We angara are fighting the kett for decades and you were just falling in our galaxy like what - a few month ago? Yet you claim you know how to fight the kett, how to handle the ramnant? Such arrogance! The things I have heard from your people so far are... not in your favor. Kadara be damned! Maybe you are diffrent than those vesegara but still, I dont't trust you... We are done here!"
Skutt. This was not going well. Jaal had to do something otherwise his chance finally finding his purpose would slip through his fingers like water. "Evfra, I feel... Evfra, what this alien says is extraordinary." Jaal let his current thrive with all the confidence and hope he could muster. "The Moshae would want us to be brave and not let this chance pass."
A few seconds passed with both angara intensly staring at each other while the pathfinder watched attentively. Her gaze wandered from one man to the other. It seemed like she was sensing that this was a very critical moment. Eventually, the resistance leader sighed and thereby sounded very tired and annoyed at the same time. "Jaal, you talk to much."
This was it. Just a tad more and Evfra would yield. "Evfra, let me assess this alien. I'll be your eyes. I know you can spare me."
"Fine. Go if you want. But when she tries to kill you be prepared to strike first."
Jaal was touched by Evfras concern for his safety but even more thankful that Evfra would let him go. Deep inside, the otherwise stern and grumpy leader had a soft heart and felt a strong responsibility for his subordinates and even more so his friends (although Evfra would never admit that Jaal was his friend).
Since then it was Jaals official job to observe the aliens carefully, see what they were up to and report to Evfra on a weekly basis. If he would find any signs of deceipt or plans to go against his people like the kett did, he had the permission to act against the aliens. So Jaal had been precautions, held himself in the background most of the time and tried to gather as much insight about the pathfinder and her teammates as possible without giving to much away about himself in return. Truth be told, he hadn't trusted them - how could he after all what had happend between the angara and the kett? But things changed over the last couple weeks - and the reason was sitting right in front of him.
The human pathfinder, no, Ryder sat at the workshop in the middle of the tech lab (aka his mekshift bedroom), the remains of a gun in front oft her. The whole weapon completely disassembled: The parts were cleaned thoroughly and lay neatly organised in front of her. She was so engrossed in her work, that she hasn't noticed him yet. She was humming softly and rocking her head to a rhythm while her eyes and deft fingers focused on tinkering with the gunparts. It seemed like she wasn't going to look up any time soon, so Jaal cleared his throat to get her attention.
No reaction.
Jaal tried again while stepping further into the room, this time calling out for her.
"Ryder?"
Again, no reaction.
Now that Jaal was closer to her, he could see tiny white plugs stuck left and right in her head which he hadn't noticed earlier. He couldn't remember what these gristly shell-shaped human skin-colored things on their heads, where the plugs stuck in were called but he knew they had something to to with their ability to hear - like the jollon of the angara.
So, if the humans need these shells to hear and they were somehow blocked by these plugs than it was presumable that Ryder couldn't hear him. And because of the way she behaved (humming, rocking her head, drumming her fingers on the table in a strange fashion) she must be listening to some kind of melody, replayed by these small plugs which must then be tiny speakers or something like that. Now that Jaal identified why Ryder wasn't aware of his presence he wondered why SAM hadn't called her attention to him? Maybe the AI had but Ryder choose not to aknowledge him? Perhaps she didn't want to talk to him and was ignoring him on purpose? Or she instructed SAM to not disturb her outside of extreme emergency. If that would be the case, then he should leave, right?
But instead of leaving quietly he stood there - transfixed and eyes glued to her, observing her. To Jaal humans still were very alien in many respects. Their bodies, especially those of the females, seemed fragile compared to the other races (except the salarians maybe) but still they are able to endure a lot more than one might think. Humans are smaller, less musceled than the average angara and they have these shorter, strangly straight legs which make them slower and weaker in running or climbing. But the shape of their legs allows them to be far more flexible than anything Jaal has ever seen before and bent in ways that seemed impossible for every other species he knows. He once observed Cora and Ryder at their training warmup out of curiosity and the impressions he gained still lingered in his mind. It was one kind of a lession in how the human body workes. Jaal had been utterly shocked and concerned but also baffled that humans are able to force their bodies in such impossible positions and then called it 'just stretching'. Ryder spread her legs in seperate directions and slid down in a way that made her legs form a straight line - a split she called it. It looked very hurtful but the two women assured him that it is not if you are trained enough (still Jaal wasn't completly convinced that it was safe to twist a body like this).
The legs were not the only things on humans that leave him in wonder and in fact evoke an interest in biology he never thought he would have. There's this fur on top of the humans heads that he hadn't seen on other species before - weather on the other Masaaf Shell aliens nor the Jave Jarevoan. When Jaal had asked Kosta about this 'hair' the answer he gave him hadn't been very revealing. He said something like 'cuz it looks good, keeps us warm in winter? Jaal could've asked Cora but the woman seemed to be annoyed everytime he wanted to know something so he skipped that option. Ryder on the other hand was always eager to satisfy this curiosity. It was easy talking to her and Jaal enjoyed their conversations very much. He found it wasn't solely the talks he enjoyed but also simply spending time in her presence. She was warm and welcoming, always friendly and honest. But when matters came to personal or emotional things she became close-lipped and evasive. Jaal quickly learned that the Masaaf Shell people are not as open with their feelings as angara but with Ryder it was like running head-first into a massiv wall. Back then he thought it was because he was a foreigner (which made sense at the beginning) but now that they went through the events on Havarl and the horrors an Voeld... They had become comrads and as far as he was concerned she had become a trusted friend, someone Jaal wanted to share his thoughts and emotions with and he wanted to know hers. He was curious about her, wanted to know her better, wanted to know more about her history, things she likes and things she doesn't. He wanted her to see him as a friend as much as he does her.
Jaal was so deeply sunken in his own curiousity about the woman infront of him that he startled when he heard her alarmed voice.
"What the...?" She suddenly looked up from the workbench and her impossible blue eyes snapped to his form, her brows knitted together in concerned frown. She looked somewhat buffled at him and when her eyes met his her features softened immediatly with a genuine smile. She pushed herself fully up from her pose hunched over her dismantled gun, straightened her back and rubbed her exposed forearms absentmindly.
"Oh, hey Jaal. I, uhm... Actually, there's something..." Ryder yelled at him. She frowned again and Jaal could see her cheeks turn a shade more pink before she held one hand up, her second finger pointing up in the air to signal him to hold on. She popped up her omnitool and tapped on it with nimble fingers, then reached up to unplug her hearing shells. When she spoke up earlier her voice was raised so that she was practically yelling at him. That she must have realised and Jaal must admit that he found her reaction to this situation endearing and also quite funny. She nervouosly scratched the back of her head and gave him an apologetic look and he couldn't contain the chuckle that rose in his chest any longer.
"Hey, stop laughing at me" she fake-pouted at him before the corners of her mouth went up with an amused smile.
"Sorry, Ryder. I dind't intend disturbing you. You seem to have work to attend to so I will come back again later." Jaal gave her a small nod, turned around and was about to make his exit when Ryder made him halt.
"No Jaal, stay! I mean you dont't have to leave if you don't want to. Not because of me. I dont't mind. And you don't disturb anything." She chuckeled to herself. "Sometimes I'm so far gone I fear I would accidently die from thirst or strave... as you might have noticed I'm embarrassingly good in fading out and covering my surroundings in white noise. I mean, not that I want to bar you or something. It's just... It's good for focusing on stuff and... helps putting other things into background..." seeing his baffled look she caught herself. "Uhm, forget I said that. Anyway, what I wanted to say is: sorry I hadn't noticed you earlier. And by that, how long have you been standing there?"
"Hmm? Let's see... I left the Moshae in the medbay about ten minutes ago. On my way back here I had a short chat with Drack at the research room before I came here. So I would say it has been maybe two to three minutes from the moment I entered the room until you actually aknowledged my presence."
For a second her face was a mixture of distress and worry before her cheeks turned even more pinker than before and she slowly slided one hand over her face. Jaal wasn't quite sure why she reacted that way for there was no reason for her to be embarrassed. After all, it was him staring at her without her knowing and therefore he should be the one embarrassed. As Jaal learned very early in his time onboard, observing someone intensly without that persons assent or knowledge was considered very rude and awkward amongst the Masaaf Shell people. Well, it is very uncivil clandestinely oberserving another person amongst angara, too. But intense eye contact (which could be considered staring) and 'conversate' with your current ist therefore very mundane and happens naturally for angara. So it was normal to Jaal to communicate with the other crewmembers using the tsidvfirra until he recognised that it wasn't working (which didn't take long). First he thought that the others only might be unable to decipher the meaning behind the ebbs and flows of his current but he quickly realised, that they aren't even capable to register his energy and therefore wouldn't be able to feel the intentions he would be transmitting with it. Tough sometimes it seemes that Ryder could feel him somehow. Sometimes when he unintentionally touched her with his current she startled or her gaze wanders to find some sort of source until meeting his eyes with a confused look. Or maybe his mind is just making things up here in a fruitless hope to communicate with someone else the way it should be.
It sometimes was complicated for Jaal to decipher the feelings of the other species only by reading there expressions. They still were aliens. It would be much easier to know their emotions if they had something like the tsidvfirra or if the others would be more open in sharing what they were feeling (the turians use something similar to communicate with each other; subharmonics to pass feelings and meanings. Sadly subharmonics and bioelectricity weren't compatible in kinds of communication as far as Jaal could tell). That sometimes really frustrated him. Jaal was not sure why but Ryder was the most frustrating one. Maybe because she fascinated him so much to begin with? The emotions she unintentionally shows on her face or in her bodylanguage were always obvious, easy to read. But if he (or someone else for that matter) would try to talk about her feelings let alone coax out the reasons behind them she would bottle up completely and change the topic immediately, hiding behind her solid wall of denial, concealment and sarkasm. Maybe a lot of her reactions or the lack thereof results from a cultural or social ingrained reservation toward open communication in general? All of the Masaaf Shell aliens had their barriers - some of them higher than others but none of them distressed him so much like Ryders.
Even if deep inside Jaal wanted to, he was not sure if it was on him to crumble down her iron walls. She would need to do it herself, she needs to want to appear from behind these walls. Why the other species thought hiding their true feelings from other in the first place would make them appear stronger was a concept Jaal absolutely couldn't comprehend. It was a method that could only make you suffer. Why would someone put himself into such pain? To truly feel every emotion was what makes you stronger, proves that you are alive. That's the faith he grew up to and believed in wholeheartedly. It was so frustrating. All he could do to help her was to be her friend and show her that he trusted her and that she could trust him as well. And Jaal would not be Jaal if he not at least tried. Fehal paava set vaa shaija.
Now that he could see her face Jaal recogniced how pale her normally rosy skin looked even though her cheeks were a little more blush. Jaal thouht it best to not comment further on the topic of him staring at her and her not noticing, for it was clear that she was embarressed and he didn't want to make her more uncomfortable. His gaze rested on her face. Her eyelids seemed heavy and he thought he could see a slightly darkened strain underneeth her eyes. Jaal could tell she was tired and drained and he had a good idea why. He may be dense sometimes but he was not blind.
He knew her father put her into the position of being pathfinder without her having any real choice, without being trained or ready enough for the job at all. But she quickly got the hang of it and made a pretty good impression so far: she established an outpost on a priorly radioavtive charged planet after making it inhabitable through activating a vault by using foreign remnant technology. They discovered Aya and got in contact with the angara, surviving a meeting with a very distressed Evfra with succsess. She rescued the missing researchers on Havarl, found the sages of Mithrava on top of a abandoned remnant tower and got them to cooperate with the angara at Pelaav station and she stopped the planet from its collapse by activating yet another vault. Now she brought back renewed hope to the angara: After supporting the resistance troops on Voeld in diminishing the planets kett presence she managed to get Evfras blessings to accompany the mission attempting to find and rescue the Moshae. It has been a really rough and disturbing mission and all the revelations and decisions were much to chew on for everybody. Nontheless they did it, she did it. It was she who led them to success, saved the souls of hundreds of abducted angara and brought them back their beloved Moshae - brought them back hope.
Jaal greatly admired her for what she did and who she was. And she had done all this in such a short amount of time. It must have been really exhausting and still her work as pathfinder wasn't done. The safety of her people still stood at risk and the responsability lay on her to solve this problem. For her peoples sake she didn't take a break and pushed herself harder day in day out. That was going to take its toll on her and therefore inevitably on the team and the mission, too. Jaal was pretty sure she was aware of that as well but maybe to gosan yav daar to change course as long as it seems to show results. This was a trait he knew all to well from Evfra. Jaal could positively imagine the displeased and utterly annoyed look on Evfras face if he would know that he and the human pathfinder actually had something in common that has nothing to do with their shared hatred of the kett. It was a funny thought that made him smile impishly.
No one of them spoke. They just looked at each other - Jaal wearing a lopsided smile and slighly shaking his head while Ryder searched his features with a stern look considering how to react to him while her blush began to disappear as seconds passed by. Eventually she spoke up, shruging with a small snort escaping her throat.
"Why were you watching me for so long? Was it because of my staggering beauty and vibrant aura?" She clutched her hands in her lap, crooked her head to the side and playfully fluttered her eyelids while sending him a innocent smile. It was obvious she was mocking him, altough... Albeit that he found the alien species he encountered so far not physically alluring he had to admit that he could admire Ryders features. For human standards she surely was considered beautiful with that wavy dark and full hair falling down onto her shoulders and perfectly framing her face. Her cheeks and the bridge of her nose were sprinkled with small dots of darker skin that danced up and down everytime her nose crinkled - especially when she smiled. The way her big and deep blue eyes sparkeled every time she was exited or seemed to barely contain a consuming flame of anger and rage while she was on the battlefield fighting their enemies. She was a fierce warrier, a force of nature which her opponents mostly fail to recognize. They often underestimated her until it was to late for them. This human woman held so much power in her small body - toned muscles hidden underneth soft, intriguing curves. Now that he thought about it, everything on her seemed so soft: her dark hair, her rosy skin, her full lips... If I would touch her, would she feels as soft as she looks? ... A warm, tingeling sensation slowly started to setttle into his stomach that made hin feel warm. Neranj onaan! Where're these tought coming from know? Am I interested in her? No, that could not be it, could it now? She's an alien, the pathfinder and more importantly a good friend. Maybe my curiosity is getting the better of me again?
Jaal had to think about this later. He shook his head and tried to sound as casual as possible. "Not really."
She dramatically sucked in a shocked breath "I feel a bit offended but I will let it slide - this time." and flashed him a braod smile.
Jaal chuckled again while the warm feeling in his gut intesified and threatened to effect his skincolour and uncontrollably seep into his current. It wasn't at all unpleasant but inappropriate right now. So Jaal thought it best to ignore this sensation of curious admiration or fond curiosity or whatever it was for the moment until he had time to figure out where it came from and what it meant. Right now Ryder needed him to be her friend and help her with whatever was obviously bothering her.
He crossed the little space towards the workbench and rounded it to stand beside where she was sitting. "May I sit with you?" he asked.
She nodded curtly in response and in an absence of chairs, Jaal pulled a stable of metal crates closer to sit on them while Ryder watched him do so. Jaal made himself as cofortable as possible ontop of the cold and hard metal boxes. When he was all settled and looked up into Ryder face she shot him an expectant look.
"So? Still waiting for an answer."
Jaal shrugged "You would not react to my approach and while I tried to figure why, I got curious and maybe got lost in thought."
He searched her face for any reaction. One second Ryder knitted her brows together as if she was trying to figure out if he was serious and a second later she was bursting out in laughter. This was a reaction which Jaal hadn't anticipated and it was so joyful and infectios that he inevitably joined in.
Eventually, she calmed down again and shook her head before looking at him again. "You are a very curious man it seems."
"Yes. I've been told that's one of my better traits." Jaal was relieved that she didn't seem to be upset and that he somehow managed to make her laugh. He liked it when she was laughing and smiling at him. He locked eyes with her and once again found himself drowned in this deep blue of hers.
All the sudden she adverted her gaze. Her focus shifted to the forgotten gunparts infront of her. She absentmindly toyed with some wires and clips, strands of her dark hair falling from her sloppy ponytail in her face but she ignored them. Now Jaal was really confused. Had he done something wrong after all? What triggered that sudden change in her demeanour? What was going on in her mind? What was troubling her?
Jaal was about to say something but decided against it. Instead he carefully layed his hand on her soulder and let a reassuring and warm wave of energie flow over to her. Even if his mind knew that she couldn't sense his intentions, his heart hoped she would feel him.
Her fingeres stopped fiddleing almost immediately but she didn't look up. "Jaal... ? What happend on Voeld... Are you okay?" Her voice sounded concerned and uncertain.
Ohh! That's what's going on. I should have thought of that myself. Jaal inwardly chided himself for beeing so inconsiderate. Of course what happened in that skutting facility on Voeld was still effecting her. She must have been so busy that she had no time to process everything properly. He had talked about the events with the Moshae but she...
"... Thank you for checking, but I'm allright." he gave her shoulder a little squeeze before taking his hand back.
She gave a disbelieving snort. "Don't know if I would be."
She wasn't, that much was clear. But she would need to come to terms with what happened back then otherwise it would weight her down. And with the things that are still to come the baggage wouldn't become any less and ony add to the weight on her shoulders and break her inevitably. His heart couldn't bear the idea that this incredibly stong women could falter like that. No, if he could go on than,so Jaal was sure, could she. All she would need to do was to accept a little help.
"I have to be." he said. Ryder then turned her head to look at him as he continued. "How else do we go on, otherwise? Do you know?" Jaal asked her solemnly.
She held his gaze and seemed to ponder upon his words. A few moments passed until she slightly crooked her head and smiled at him. "You know, I may seem tough but I have a soft shoulder!"
Jaal couldn't help but snort inspite of her unbelievable talent to sail around his efforts. Actually he intended to make her see that sometimes you need someone to help you carry your weight. He was pretty sure she knew what he had implied but instead of reflecting that upon herself she thought it was his attempt to indirectly tell her that he needed to be taken care of. It was frustrating but nevertheless very amiable. She really cared about everybody, about him.
"That's kind. You're kind." Jaal reciprocated her gentle smile.
The red stain on her cheeks reappeared. "Anytime, big guy... Hey, like to see the gun gramps gave me?" She expectantly looked at him, than at the workbench and back again at Jaal. Eyebrows raised in question.
Jaal nodded and she grew a big smile. "Great! So, as you might have seen, this once was a kett rifle. Drack must've snatched it from a dead body somewhere. Don't ask me where or when. I don't know and I'm pretty sure I don't wanna know. But what I know is, that Drack has a knack for good weapons because this one here is a real tasty tidbit. I took it apart to see how it workes and boy, don't get me wrong, the kett are shitty assholes but they know how to build badass guns." She made a excessive gesture towards the skattered gunparts. Jaal gave her a sarcastic grin in return but didn't say a word. She took his silence as sign to go on.
"Here's what I figuered so far: This is a semi-automatic gun. With its smooth and relatively short barrel and the also short but large projectiles it classifies as some sort of shotgun. Very short range but high impact, good for close-up combat - right after my fancy. And the way the projectiles function's ingenius." She pointed at a pile of ammunition that lay besides the gun. "These fellas get plasma coated. Here look... You see these small containers that are embedded here?" She took one of the slugs and held it close to his face while pointing out some notches. "They contain the plasma that surrounds them after fireing. And here, see this trunnion with the tiny thing that looks like an electrode? Pulling the trigger this mechanism here should..." Jaal listened intently while Ryder seemed to loose herself in her explanations.
Her enthusiasm was as infectious as her laughter and they found themselfes engrossed into working at the gun in no time, both hunched over the workbench, tinkering with the rifle and discussing ways to mod it. Jaal had a lot of fun, more fun than he had in weeks and great company on top. He enjoyed working with Ryder and he enjoyed this new undiscerning, casual and joyful side he witnessed. Since their first meeting she was all work, serious, considerate, tense. 'My people come first!' she once said and by my people she not only meant those from the Masaaf Shell, she included his people as well. Jaal was happy to see that she could divert herself from her life as pathfinder and that doing handicrafts on her new gun gave her at least some peace - a small sanctuary in between everything else. And he was happy to see that she could relax with him by her side. That she trusted him enough to show him this gleefull side of hers. She already must see him as a good friend (a revelation that made Jaal feel relieved and really happy). Seeing Ryder like this, one could mean the dark shadows under her eyes, the worrylines on her forehead and the distressed expression she sometimes wore on her face when she thought nobody was looking were all just imagination.
Time passed and it could have been mere minutes or several hours they spent together as Ryder reluctantly straightened up and streached her upper body. "Puh, I think that the shorter barrel you suggested substantially adds to the damage output and the scatter effect is reasonable - at least for me. But I'm worried about the recoil. Any thoughts?"
Jaal straightened up himself and in doing so his spine snapped and he could feel the stiffness in the muscles of his back from sitting bent forward for a long time without moving much. His face contorted in mild pain and he unvoluntarily groaned. Ryder therefore gave him a pity look. "Ohhh, Sorry big guy. I seems angaran physiology dosn't fit initiative furniture all to well. We should take a break."
"I agree." Jaal nodded and tried to loosen his shoulders by rolling them back and forth while Ryder cleaned her hand from weaponoil and carbon dust with a rag she digged out of one of her pockets.
Surveying the result of their work, Jaals gaze wandered the perimeter of the workbench and finally landing on something a bit out of place. He picked up the two little white plugs and rolled them between his fingers while eyeballing them. He would have liked to take them apart and see how they functioned...
"What you got there?" Ryder turned to him and put the cloth aside on the table. Jaal carefully let the plugs roll into his open palm and showed them to her.
"These tiny reproducers are interesting. I assume they transmit sound by converting electrical energy received from the sound source into sound waves? Our headpieces have a similar function integrated for intercom. I assume the sounddevice of the omnitools works the same way."
Ryder took the earplugs from Jaals hand and thoughtfully examined them herself. "Hum. If I remeber correctly you're right. Inside the headphones the transmitted electrical signals were converted to sound waves. A small diaphragm that is attached to a tiny copper coil produces the sound waves. The coil is suspended in a magnetic field of a permanent magnet. Now, if the device recieves an electrical signal or current the copper coil gets charged and turns into an electromagnet and makes the diaphragm vibrate. The diaphragm is in contact to the air, the air starts vibrating follwing the rhythm of the diaphragm and taaaadaaa - producing actual sound. Right, SAM?"
"Your explanation basically is correct, Sera. If you wish, I could relay more detailed descriptions and diagramms containing the exact explanations of the mode of operation of wireless speaker systems and electrical generated sound to Mr. Ama Daraav." The bodyless voice of the AI eminated from Ryders omnitool.
"That would be much appreciated. Thank you SAM." Jaal answered. "But please, just call me Jaal."
"As you wish, Jaal." And with that the AI was gone and silence laid upon them once again.
But eventually Jaals curiousity got the better of him, again. "You used this plugs earlier to listen to something. Why did you not just use your omnitool for that?" In principle, he could picture why she preferred these 'headphones' but he wanted to see if he was right and he had a plan to get behind her cover.
Ryder looked away from him and nervously rubbed the back of her neck. "I... I didn't want to get on anybodies nerves with the noise and my likes of music. You know?"
Jaal made a rumbeling sound in the back of his throat. "Hmm. That's very considerate of you. But you've been alone until I came in, so that was unnecessary?"
Ryder fiddled with the earpieces, then sighed defeatedly. "It seems like, dosn't it? But... for me it's sometimes necessary... necessary to block out the silence." She didn't eleborate further and seemed lost in thought. She put away the plugs in her pockets and absentmindly rubbed the plam of her right hand with the thumb of the other. There were slightly red, halfmoon shaped marks on her palm.
To be continued...
You can also read it at ao3: Symphony of life
For any other of the thind I wrote, go and see my account: Chullia
Took me long enough to get myself together. It’s not complete complete, but I’m almost there. Like with chpt. 2 I’ll give you a sneak peak. Here you go....
“Why? Why was he still looking at her like like this with this stunning galaxy eyes of his? And why the bloody hell had she said that? Urgh.
Ryder absentmindly rubbed her hands while staring into nothingness. Well aware of the lilac-coloured angara sitting right next to her and watching her closely. She really had ejoyed the last hour with Jaal modding and assembeling her new gun, talking mostly about tech stuff and momentarily forgetting about all the drowning thoughts and self-depreciation.
She went to the tech lab to sidetrack her mind but that hadn't been the sole reason. She just as well could've went to the cargo bay working on the nomand and messing with Gil a bit but she choose the tech lab instead - for a reason. What had happend days prior at that forsaken facility on Voeld had left all of them shaken, sure - but for Jaal? Seeing his own people being tortured so cruelly and turned into mindless abominations? It must've been so painfull and devastating, to say the least. Therefore Sera kind of hoped running into him. She wanted to look after him, offering him support if needed and appreciated. Coming here and seeing he was not there disappointed her at first but she was a little bit relieved, too. It gave her the opportunity to get rid of her own fretful thoughts and calm her mind down before having a pep-talk with one of the most emotional beings she knew.
Sera felt like a great load was taken from her mind when Jaal told her that he actually was coping well with the revelations they came upon on Voeld. If it would have been her she would have locked the doors to her cabin, turned on her music at high volume and beat the living shit out of her pillows before defetedly crushing into them headfirst. She would be crying and shouting until exhaustion would get the better of her and she would fall into a comatose-like state of sleep. It wasn't the best tactic of dealing with traumatic events but it helped - most of the times.
Maybe Jaal had done something similar, secretly had let out all his agony and therefore felt better now? No, that wasn't at all angaran-like and certainly not Jaal-like. Again, Jaas was the model angara in being free with his feelings. He surely wouldn't hide and suffer for himself. Jaal must've done the one thing she was never able to - he must've talked with someone. He most certainly talked about it with the Moshae which really was a good thing and the elderly woman was the obvious choise. She seemed to be very wise and well respected and she was angara, too. She could understand his struggels the best and give helpfull advice. Nevertheless Sera felt a bit disappointed that he won't talk to her about Voeld.
There was the possibility that he didn't talk to her because he doesn't want her to be concerned about him. If he really was still upset than maybe in not telling her his true state of mind he wanted to be thoughtful? Maybe he wanted to talk about it with her but didn't know how to approach? He was such a nice and considerate guy. Therefore he certainly thought it best not to weight her down with the stuff going on in his mind. Maybe he thought she would feel sad or distressed because of him, that she would took his feeling to her heart too much? The thought was heartwarming but doesn't really fit either. Botteling up because you don't want others to be bothered by your emotions was more a Sera thing. Jaal was an open and truthful person once he trusted you. And Ryder was sure that by now and with all they had been through together the relationship between them had evolved from a sole working partership to a dearly friendship for both of them.
Or was it the contrary? What if he thought that she wouldn't care at all? What if he took the Moshaes words by heart and believed that her sympathy was empty? If that was the case then Sera really had done a terrible job as a person without even noticing it. She never ever wanted to make the impression of being abrasive or cold towards others. She cared about her friends wholeheartedly. They already had become kind of a family to her. No, that could not be it - that must not be it! Maybe she was just jealous that he was fine and she was not?
Sera screamed inwardly. Her nerves were getting the better of her again. Yeah, she was just overthinking. Like always, right? Jaal told her that he thinks she is kind and he would never lie about his feelings, would he? Get yourself together, for gods sake! If he told her he was fine than she should be happy and believe him. And if at some point he would want to talk things out with her than she would be there to listen.”
This morning the early fog lay heavy over the still frozen ground. The thick wall of mist covered all of the surroundings like a blanket pulled over your head because you're not willing to wake up yet. The sounds of nature were dulled and the warm orange light of the rising sun fought its way through the cold-damp and annoyingly persistent banners of dust. But as time proceeds the warmth of the sun would gather more and more strength and slowly drive off the cold grasp of winter’s dawn.
The cool and stiff breeze which blew down the Frostback Mountains let shivers run down Maras body so that she reflexively had to wrap herself more tight into her dark-green cloak. Her cheeks were constantly reddened due to the omnipresent, biting cold and she had to squint if she wanted to see anything through that damn clouds of mist - let alone the path they were supposed to follow. The moist air clung to her warm skin and slowly crept under her armor and clothing. Mara could feel the goosebumps rising on her arms, her back and slowly creep all over her body. She involuntary shivered again and trembled slightly to fight the freezing chill from settling into her muscles. All together: It was fucking, annoying cold! Damned Ferelden winters! Sadly Mara knew that there was really nothing that she could do to change the weather no matter how much she pitied herself or complained about it. Besides, there is no point in complaining about matters that lie beyond your powers.
Mara and her small entourage were headed to the temple of Sacred Ashes which lay at the perimeters of the Frostbacks in Ferelden. There she, or furthermore her companions, would be attending the holy conclave of the revered mother and divine Justinia V. Mara - that much was clear - had really no intentions to take part in the boring political and religious peace-talks. She wholeheartedly wasn't interested in listening to all the big-headed representatives and officials from chantry, order or circles going on and on with their political nonsense and pompous bumbledoom. Nevertheless Mara was well aware of the global reach and topicality the outcome of the conclave could have - good or bad. Eventually, the results of the negotiations would have an impact on her imminent future as well. She just didn't know how much it would in the end. Her reason for coming to the conclave in the first place was the only thing on her mind.
She was lucky enough that she was given the opportunity to come to Ferelden. Officially she acted as a representative to house Trevelyan, to display the solicitousness and (not so altruistic) support of her family to the divine. But it has been hard work for Mara to get her family to agree to her request of sending her to Ferelden in the first place. But she had two good reasons to convince then to her favor: First of all, due to her military past and abilities and her status as noblewoman she was predestinated to lead the convoy - after all she was an expert fighter, distinguished chevalier and was experienced in leading troops. Second she was a 'neutral' representative with no relations to any party present and therefore could advocate the family matters without any bias. It was a win-win situation for house Trevelyan and Mara. At the end the patriarch Sir Trevelyan reluctantly approved - under one condition: Mara had to prove to her father that she was ready to leave again and that her physical and mental condition was recovered enough that she could weather the exertion of what would be to come (One could say a lot bad and defaming things about her father and how he ruled the family business but he will always care about his favorite little girl - even if he wouldn’t admit it openly).
But to stick to her father’s wishes was easier said than done and only because he had made it unnecessary exhausting for her. It has been a back and forth for days and a lot of convincing words from her elder brother on top to finally get the patriarch to agree to letting her go and lead the delegation to Ferelden. Besides, Mara would've left Ostwick anyways – even without the permission and official documentation. Furthermore, Mara was sure her parents knew that much. So they sure thought it better to give her the formal OK and send her out on official business rather than dealing with the inevitable consequences of her insubordination and runaway afterwards. The only daughter of Sir Walter Alarik Trevelyan and Lady Catharina Trevelyan always had been a sullen pighead and no other member of the family could be as stubborn her (At least that is what her mother always said). If she got something into her head she would make it happen no matter what.
Right now, she needed to be in Ferelden, at this special conclave. Mara could feel it in her bones, every fiber of her body itched with the need to go. It made her restless, this feeling consistently pushed her forward. It was like the steady and insistent drift of a mighty river that safely brought an unguided boat towards its final destination.
The young woman thought back to the days right before her departure. She remembered her mother being totally giddy with excitement, now that, after all those years, her daughter showed somewhat interest regarding the family and aristocratic duties that eventually would make her a real lady of house Trevelyan. Her mother has been so happy and eager to make sure everything was perfectly arranged for Maras journey and her stay in Ferelden - the memory of her otherwise self-controlled and reserved mother excitedly bustling about made Mara smile. Mara loved her mother and it gnaws at her conscience hat her mother's work would be fruitless after all because Mara never intended to comply with her duties - neither aristocratic, politically nor religious. As soon as possible after dropping her companions at the conclave Mara would extract herself and would pursue her own, personal matters. The others would be alright even without her and truth be told, even if she would show presence at the talks it wouldn't have any influence regarding the outcome. In any case, Mara would find out the results - good or bad - sooner or later. It doesn’t matter if she was there or not. Maybe her father would be furious with her and her delinquency but that anger would subside over time adn long been forgotten the time she eventually came back. She intended not to go back to Ostwick for a while… That was for sure, no matter what was going to happen at the conclave.
Before thinking of ducking out of the peace talks and starting with the task at hand, she and her little delegation from Ostwick had to arrive at the temple first. They were a small group containing two representatives from the chantry of Ostwick, two servants and three additional soldiers from Ostwick garrison. The two revered ladies had been Maras grandaunt mother Florentina and her cousin sister Johanna. Mara had met them once or twice while staying in Ostwick but up to now never had to deal with them or talked much with them. But she was sure both women were kind and good souls even if they complained a bit too much about the weather or the cart for Maras likings. The group traveled already much to slow even without the permanent stops on their behalf.
Maras shoulders dropped a bit and she let out a frustrated sigh before turning around in her saddle to make sure her companions would keep up with the brisk pace she was setting. Her plan was to arrive at the temple before nightfall if possible (they had been behind the original time schedule anyways). The conclave would start early the following day and no one wanted to be late - not even Mara (she had a responsibility toward her companions after all). To her relief everything was fine. The others still were right behind her. The revered clerics travelled together with their servants in a simple open cart, pulled by two large, dark-brown Ferelden Forders. The carriage was encompassed by all together four heavy armored and armed chevaliers on their Free Marcher Rangers - she at the front, one soldiers on each side and the last one at the back. Mara knew the three soldiers well from her past at Ostwick garrison und she was sure that she could trust every single one of them without thinking. They followed orders but didn't hesitate to advance their opinion if needed and they all were well versed fighters and enjoyable, uncomplicated company.
Ser Harris was a huge and broad man in his fifties with a thick, black beard and short black hair that began to grey heavily. He had a gravely, deep voice and his leathery, weather-beaten skin crinkled around the corners of his nose and steel grey eyes. He favored fighting with a longsword and a kite shield, was happily married, had two gorgeous daughters and held a fondness for the dark and strong ale they brew back in Markham. Ser Harris has been, by all means, a big, hairy teddy bear with a very winning character. He was candid, warm and humorous - always a witty saying or joke on his lips and deep laughter lines across his face. His bright laughter was like a conteminous virus infecting everyone in ears range. You just had to like this man even if sometimes he could a bit too caring and protective of his younger colleagues.
The second one, Ser Killian was about Maras age (nearing thirty summers) and a talented marksman. He had a rather lanky figure and at first you would mean wrongly his bow is holding him and not the other way round. This impression vanished the instant Killian laid an arrow alongside his bow. You could see every muscle in his body tense to its utmost and the inconsiderable, slender man was replaced by a wiry and surprisingly sturdy fighter. Every time Ser Killian was shooting his arrows the gaze of his clear, blue eyes became hyper focused and his face contorted with a devilish smile playing across his thin lips. Outside a fight Ser Killian appeared to be shy and didn't talk much except you were talking about herbs and plants. The man was a walking lexicon regarding flowers, herbs and other flora. Back home he had a huge garden around his small hut that he cultivated with great care and dedication. He never tired of recounting his recent acquisitions or telling you of the many purposes of elfroot.
The name of the last one was Ser Liam. He was a rather small man (about one foot less then Mara herself), had shoulder long blond hair he wore in a sloppy ponytail and a prominent hooknose. He made a very inattentive first impression on most people. But if you watched him closely you could see his eyes bearing a strange restlessness, as if his thoughts were running a hundred miles per hour whereas his body remained still. Mara always called him a little daydreamer although this was kind of an oxymoron because he always noticed everything that was going on around him. He was always alert and this high awareness of his surroundings in combination with his speed and composure made him the highly dangerous and effective swordsman he was. He was so precise and fast with his two short swords that the most of his foes only recognize him when it was already too late. Besides his martial art Mara appreciated his wonderful sonorous singing voice very much. Some night they all would sit together at the campfire, Liam singing an old tune while Mara played along with her lute.
They were good men, strong fighters and old friends. Mara would trust every one of the three with her life and she knew this based on mutuality.
She searched eye contact with her men to make sure everything was all right so that she wouldn't need to slow down. They all gave her a sharp nod as answer to the unspoken question. Pleased with that, she turned back towards the still clouded path in front of her.
The path to the temple was well worn due to the many travelers using it and muddy and slippery because of the damp snow. Therefore they had to be cautious and only advanced slowly. They now were near the Frostback Mountains and the fir trees next to the road cracked under the weight of the fresh snow. The temple itself was to be deeper into the perimeters of the mountains which meant even more snow and cold weather. In general, Mara wasn’t bothered by hibernal weather - quite the contrary. In fact she liked the winter. Wintertime always meant dancing snowflakes, riding through glistening landscapes, crackling hearth fire and steamy hot beverages. She closed her eyes and called forth the memories of winter days long gone at the family estate back in the Free Marches. The thought of hot mulled wine and the sweet smell of oranges with a hint cinnamon warmed her soul and body.
She opened her eyes and sighed heavily. What were the odds of getting hot beverages at something called the holy conclave? Regarding her luck? Presumably next to nothing. She shook of the thought and concentrated back to their journey. Without interruptions they would be able to arrive at the temple by nightfall. That said, IF they were to be lucky. At the tavern they last stopped they heard of marauding bandits that allegedly roamed the region, hijacking clueless travelers.
An assault was the last thing they would need right now and Mara nervously checked her weapons what seemed the hundredth time. Sensing her discomfort her Freemarcher Ranger Dandelion gave an irritated snort which conjured little white steam clouds into the cold air. Mara softly tapped his broad neck to calm him (and her) down. She bent down and softly whispered into the horses ears.
"We almost made it, big guy. Just a few hours more and I will get you a well-earned massage and a sack full of carrots. How does that sound, huh?"
As if catching the meaning of her words the horse fastened his steps a tad more, seemingly encouraged by the prospect of food.
*** *** *** ***
The entourage arrived at the temple of Sacred Ashes just as the dawn settled in. While climbing the path up to their destination, eventually Mara could lay eyes upon the holy temple which appeared out of the nothing between the flanks of two steeply rising mountain sides.
She gaped in awe at the sacred building revealing itself and just couldn’t contain the silent "Woooow" that came out of her open mouth. She was overwhelmed by the sight. But neither the brilliant white and smooth stonewalls of the structure nor the intricate architecture left her fascinated – it had been the sheer monstrosity of the overall building she saw that made her feel small and intimidated as well as respectful and humble at once. The temple was truly magnificent.
A huge façade, peppered with large and equally manifold windows made of noble stained-glass that shimmered in various colours in the light of dawn, eased itself into the otherwise rough and unwelcoming mountainside. The outlining of the façade with its many elaborate, large pinnacles and peaks resembled a flame that seemed to grow into the sky above it – nearly as if the temple itself would touch the clouds. But there was more; seemingly everywhere small figurines were embedded into the stone walls, decorated delicate stone arches stretched between single towers and side buildings, some sort of gargoyles crowned some of the pinnacles and right on the large front of the temple set the symbol of the prophet herself – a huge red and golden sun. All in all very pompous yet beautifully so. This undoubtedly looked like a worthy place to worship the makers bride. Although the remains of the prophet surely were nowhere to be find here anymore.
The closer they approached the more of the sacred building was revealed. Numerous side buildings were nuzzled seamlessly to the sides of the seemingly endless nave, all of them peppered with small alcoves. They all were made of pure white stone in which the orange, red and yellow light of the descending sun was captured and covered everything in a warm and welcoming atmosphere. It felt like the whole temple itself would be shining. It took some effort for Mara to break away from the stunning sight. With renewed vigor and with a warm and hopeful feeling in her chest she turned around in her saddle to address her companions.
"Ay!" She raised her voice and again searched eye contact with her men.
"We’re nearly there. Look, there it is: The Temple of Sacred Ashes." She was well aware that the others must have seen the building by now as well as she has but still she couldn’t hold back her excitement. She waved her arm in an excessive gesture toward the impressing building and was somewhat relieved to see that her companions shared the same overwhelming impression of the sight. They all were perplexed and wide-eyed upon the magnificent and reverent display of religious power.
Mara slowed her horse down and let it fall back to the side of the cart to address the clerics occupying it. "Miladies, I will ride ahead and announce our arrival at once. I will see to it that proper accommodations and a warm meal are prepared upon your arrival so that your excellencys may be able to rest outright, if so wished." Mara tried her best to sound as courtly as she could while talking to her grandaunt and cousin. Both women smiled at her warmly and with relief, seeing that their exhausting journey would soon find its end. Mara answered with an implied bow and quickly spurred her mount to head up to the position Ser Harris was riding. She brought her horse to side with his and matched his tempo to talk with the man.
"The three of you stay close to our charge while I ride ahead and arrange everything at the temple. As soon as you arrive I command you and Ser Killian helping our dear companions with their luggage and unload the aid supplies we carry with us. Make sure they land in the right hands. And before you ask, I mean both clerics AND goods... Ser Liam will stay with the ladies until they are at their quarters, just to be safe. After that, he is to report back to you. I’ll get our horses cared for, find ourselves some cozy cots for the night and something to eat."
Ser Harris nodded after receiving his orders but looked at her with a sheepish grin and a mischievous sparkling in his eyes, raising one hairy eyebrow in question before drawing out a long and rumbling "Aaaaaaand…?"
Mara rolled her eyes at him. He sometimes was insufferable and any other subordinate of her would be scolded for this lack of decency and protocol but he was like a big fluffy and armored teddybear and they were amongst themselves so she didn’t mind nor care to much.
"Aaaand I will fetch some strong ale for us…"
Ser Harris’ smile grew bigger under his thick beard and he hummed overjoyed. "Ay, ay captain Trevelyan! But make sure you’re not going to get lost with our well-earned drinks in that big’ol chantry. You know how Killian gets when he’s send to bed without having his goodnight beer. He'd be pissed for a weeks’ time, at least." He now looked at her with a stern look on his face and seemingly tried and failed to act like this was serious buisiness. The mask broke the moment Mara over-dramatically rolled her eyes at him once again. They both spurted out a deep, body-shaking laughter. After she got herself together again she addressed Ser Harris once more, her face and her tone both serious now.
"I told you I’m not your captain anymore, Harris. This time is long but gone. I’m just in charge of this little entourage for the time being, so please…" She made a pause to see the lines of his face somewhat harden and she thought to see a flicker of regret or something crossing his features. Eventually he nodded to her without saying anything more and averted his gaze. Clearly he thought that conversation to be over but Mara was not done.
"Besides, how dare you think I could possibly deny you your precious afterwork-ale? Who am I to do such a cruel thing? Tse… Okay, maybe I would thin it down a bit just to annoy you but that would be about it." Mara gave him a impish smile and reached over to playfully clap him on his broad shoulder. Before Ser Harris was able to react she flicked the reigns of her horse to settle into a harsh gallop and headed her way onward to the temple of Sacred Ashes. She couldn’t see her man shaking his head mildly at her and smiling to himself.
Spurring her horse to a high speed she felt the cold air hurtfully nagging at her face and her scrunched eyes began to water. The biting wind caught beneath her cape, letting it flutter behind her and letting the cold find its way under her armor and clothing. It may have been an unpleasant ride but Mara scarcely could feel any of it. She was all to motivated and full with excitement and adrenaline. Her thoughts began to race due to the impending events and possibilities. The conclave may become a turning point for the ongoing civil war between mages and Templars but for Mara it was more. For her the conclave symbolized a turning point in her life, an end and a beginning, an alpha and an omega that she eagerly had waited for a long time. Her new path was clear to her, a path no one could dissuade her from. She was going to find him, to finally see him again after all those years…
It won’t be long and Marcus will be there somewhere. I just know it. I… I can feel it! … I will find you, Marcus. Just wait for me. We will be together again and everything will like old times. No, better! You will be free. We will be free together…
I’ve got a question for you, especially for ME:A fans. Its less a questions per se but I would like to read your suggestions and thoughts.
Here’s what I was wondering *clears throat*: If the pathfinder aka Sera Ryder would’ve been a hobby musician in her past, played piano and enjoed singing and if she would hypothetically get the opportunity to sing a song infront of her crew - what would she choose to perform?
I’ve some ideas about that but I’m not quite sure if they would fit... So what do you (And by that I mean YOU. Yap, YOU right there in front of your desktop reading my post) think?
I’m already curious about your thoughts...^^
(And yes, I'm planning on writing a chapter in Symphony of life about that)
Anyway - stay strong and clear u guys and always remeber even whole New York was once New Amsterdam (why did i write that?)...
as u all know, this sunday we celebrate 1st advent. This means having some homemade cookies, hot tea and wrapping yourself into a cuddly, warm blanket on the couch while watching some classic movies with my husband. The whole living room smells like a composition of sweet, warm bakery, cinnamon and honey weaving over from the kitchen as well as candlewax and the fresh smell of pine and fir from my little advent wreath. Everything is just warm and comfi and relaxing... I’m soooo looking forward for the weekend.
And as a cherry on top it started snowing today.
This is winter at its best and I love it! ♥ ♥ ♥
I hope u guys have a wonderful wintertime youselfs, despite the whole pandemic and are able to enjoy this magical season as you like it best.
the second chapter of Symphony of life is ready for you and posted on AO3.
If you like, go and check it out. Send me your comments, ideas, suggestions or whatever comes to mind, I’ll be waiting and happy to get some reactions.
Now it’s my job to get my brains togehter and start the next chapter. I have some ideas spinning around in my head - just have to sort them out, order them and bring them to paper in a compliant way.^^
Love u guys, love ur faces and stay safe everybody
