The musty air of the ruin was cloying, clogging her nostrils and crushing her, pushing her down as if it wanted to bury her. The thought was unnerving, though she had faced worse these past few days. Not that she relished it. The place was a tomb enough, without adding her bones to the pile.
Pushing such morbid thoughts from her mind with a shake of her head that sent brown hair flying about as much as it could in the restraint of its bindings, Virevas kept a hand on the wall, allowing the cold, hard stone to support her. Once or twice her hand slipped in the damp, but otherwise, she was well enough. The worried gazes of her clanmates probed into her, invading her privacy, taking in the sickly hue of normally vital, olive skin, and she resented every minute of it, no matter how much the logical part of her screamed that it was entirely justified.
The awful familiarity of this place brought bile to her throat, though perhaps it was just the illness that she was supposed to have beaten. That was wat the Keeper said, but she didn't believe it. She could feel the slippery black tendrils grasping for her soul, her heart, her mind, trying to drag them to their deep depths. She denied them, however, and instead turned to that cursed door, stepping over the corpses of those monstrous things, the ones that had attacked her and her companions and invaded the peaceful quiet of the wood.
Perhaps complaining of that was hypocritical, considering that she had done her own damage, but it was yet another distracting thought to lead her mind from the awful things it wanted to focus on, so she couldn't be too upset with herself.
She was procrastinating and she knew it when a heavy hand placed it on her shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze. Whirling to face the heavily tattooed face of a friend whose name she had to search for- Fenarel, she knew this, why did she have to think so hard?- Virevas jerked herself from his reach, pressing forward and planting a palm on that hateful door. She pushed it and, with a groan, it swung wide open.
Though she would never admit it, the mirror was the first thing she saw, and it terrified her. A tremor ran through her body, and she had to fight with herself to not take a step back, instead swallowing, pulling up the tattered shreads of her dignity, and forcing herself to walk.
That was when she truly saw the human.
To her eyes, he must have been Rivaini, with dark skin and hair- and hairstyle, though the beard she wasn't so sure of, perhaps he was a sailor with gold glittering in his ear, and the weapons matched up as well, those two blades strapped to his back were mismatched and obviously well used. His attire, though, that did not fit in with that roguish people. The white leather hung down nearly to his ankles, and was too plain, too concealing. She turned to examine the faces of her companions, seeing awe and recognition marked too plainly, as well as respect. That was what got her the most. Why did they respect a simple shem?
"So, you were the one fighting darkspawn," he said as he turned around, uncrossing his arms and observing her with a steady, stoical expression. "I thought I heard combat." Virevas opened her mouth to reply, but he simply continued, approaching the trio. "You're the elf I found wandering the forest, aren't you? I'm surprised you have recovered." She snapped her mouth closed and gave him an indignant look, clenching her fists.
"I don't know you, human," she curtly responded through clenched teeth, earning her a gasp from Fenarel. "Nor do I owe you anything."
"Even if you didn't owe this human your life, a Grey Warden deserves respect," Merrill admonished, furrowing her brows and giving Virevas a severe look. The effect was somewhat lost, with the First being behind her and Virevas occupied with fixing the Warden with burning glare, not to mention how terribly young she looked, but it was a valiant effort.
"She owes me nothing," Duncan said, repeating her words for her. Virevas hated him already. The man continued with his righteous speech, and she listened, heeding the woman's warning. "It was my duty to return an injured Dalish to your clan; your people have always been allies with the Grey Wardens."
"An understanding human?" she inquired in a voice too sweet to be real, switching tactics of mockery. "How nice for you." The tone was matched with a grin that didn't reach her cold, green eyes. He was unfazed, however.
"My name is Duncan, and it's a pleasure to finally meet you," he said with his expressionless face, although Virevas would have sworn that she caught a glimpse of amusement in his eyes. Perhaps she was simply being paranoid. "The last time we spoke, you were barely conscious." Virevas winced- that one hurt, it really did, and she allowed Merrill to speak while she brooded on that one
"Andaran atish'an, Duncan of the Grey Wardens. I am Merrill, the keeper's apprentice." Her greeting was met with a simple bend of her knees and bow of her heads, though that alone was enough to disgust Virevas. The huntress crossed her arms over her chest, sticking her hip out to the side and tilting her head.
"And I am Fenarel." The blonde introduced himself, and did not hesitate to continue, asking questions with eyes only for the Warden. "Did you… did you come here alone, human? Battling all these creatures?"
"Yes," the tall Warden humbly confirmed with a nod, and a grateful glance to all of them. "Though I must admit, you took a great deal of pressure off me." Virevas recognized the simple trick for what it was, dismissing it as flattery with a quiet scoff and a roll of her eyes. Duncan conspicuously forced a chuckle down, humor hidden in the lines of his face. "Your keeper did not send you after me, did she? I told her I would be in no danger."
"Nae. We are not in the habit of rescuing wayward humans." Virevas prayed her thanks to whatever god might govern such a thing for passive aggression. Fenarel groaned.
"It's a good thing I don't return that feeling, don't you say?" And at last he cracked a smile, giving her a wry look to accompany his dry humor. Virevas flushed under his gaze and fought to not stomp her foot in the manner of a spoiled child, only barely winning that battle. In a few short moments, however, he turned serious. "So, you and your friend Tamlen both entered this cave? And you saw this mirror?" Virevas was glad that they were getting onto a more useful topic, nodding in confirmation, a hopeful look in her eyes.
"Yes," she replied, carefully keeping her eagerness from her voice. "We fought some… twisted, wrong beast, but it gave us no real problems, not even a wound. We came in here after that, and Tamlen touched the mirror. I blacked out." Words took so much effort, she thought. More than they should. The reminder of her clanmate kept the stakes in her mind, though, and she waded through the haze to find language.
"I see," Duncan said with a grimace, giving her a pitying look. "That is… unfortunate." He cleared his throat and continued, though he still looked unhappy, and sorry for her. Virevas absolutely hated that, almost as much as she hated him. "The Grey Wardens have seen artifacts like this mirror before. It is Tevinter in origin, used for communication. Over time, some of them simply… break. They become filled with the same taint as the darkspawn. Tamlen's touch must have released it."
Virevas wanted to shout that he was not worthy of saying his name, demand a reason why he was simply standing there and not looking for him when she had arrived, but then found the thought irrational and was embarrassed by it. She held her tongue and gave her clanmates a cautious look. It took all of her strength to keep fear from her face.
"It's what made you sick- and Tamlen too, I presume."
Something in her fought this, hated this, hated everything and whirled with sharp claws to fight the idea away, out of her mind and any part of her that wanted to believe it, no matter how small. The pounding of her head, soreness of her body, and bad taste in her mouth argued with those thoughts, though the idea still remained, despite the other side's best efforts.
"We… we need to take it to the Keeper…" she murmured, putting a hand over her forehead and looking drained. "She will…" Duncan cut her off with some vehemence.
"The darkspawn are drawn to the mirror," he said loudly, voice echoing in the cold quiet of the ruins. "Do you want to lead them to your clan?"
"I do not fear this sickness," Merrill spoke up. "The keeper knows how to cure it." Fenarel nodded in agreement, which dislodged the blonde braid he always had tucked behind his ear. He pushed it back into place.
"She may have weakened it, but she cannot cure it," admitted Duncan with a pained expression. He turned to Virevas. "Your recovery is only temporary. I can sense the sickness in you, and it is spreading. Look inside yourself and you will see."
She didn't need to look. Even as she tried to find the words to deny it, she could feel it, slippery black tendrils lapping at her soul and fighting to reach her heart. It was an even more terrifying thought than the oppressive aura of the ruins.
"Perhaps there is… something to what you say." Virevas spoke warily, still looking defiantly up at him, glad for the vallaslin that would help hide the worried lines of her brow and tight lips. She knew that they were visible, but perhaps they were lessened beneath the curling vines. The thought of her tattoos brought Tamlen back to the forefront of her mind, and she struggled not to physically recoil from them.
"Confirm it with your keeper later, if you like," he said, allowing some irritation to flash through his calm façade. "For now, we must deal with the mirror. It is a danger." With that, he turned, walking up those steps- those damnable, terrible steps- and drew his blade.
With a quick movement, he shattered the mirror.
The room was filled with noise and light, one that sent Virevas stumbling backwards into Fenarel with a hand shielding her face and left a ringing in her ears. Perhaps it was a part of her imagination, but she thought that she heard a guttural voice, speaking in complaint. Duncan turned back to them.
"It is done." Merrill blinked at him, astonished and offended. "Now let's leave this cursed place. I must speak with the keeper immediately regarding your cure." Virevas swallowed.
"What about Tamlen?" She hated herself above all, for letting her voice sound so small, barely above a whisper. Once again, Fenarel reached out, offering support, and she let him rest his hand on her, though she clenched her fists and jutted out her chin. The look on her face, she hoped, dared the human to say anything about her weakness.
"There is nothing we can do," he replied calmly with a tilt of his head.
"I'm not leaving!" she shouted, stepping forward and clenching her fists. "Not until I find him!"
"Let me be very clear," Duncan began, gently but firmly. "There is nothing you can do for him. He's been Tainted for three days now, unaided. Through your keeper's healing arts and your own willpower, you did not die, but… Tamlen had not had that chance." Through it all, he steadily meets her gaze, and Virevas wonders how he manages to do such a thing, while speaking his lies. "Trust me when I say he is gone! Now, we should return."
"No! Nae! Din'dirth, shem!" she shouts, shrugging her shoulder to free it of Fenarel's grip. "Venan'vhen! Lan'ar!" The elven man made a grab for her arm, but years of hunter training had sharpened her reflexes, and she easily twisted from him, gritting her teeth to swallow her sick.
"No," Duncan said, sounding weary, lifting his hand to dismiss the pursuit that Fenarel had begun. "I cannot deny you the chance to look. I will wait outside of the cave. Come out when you are finished." Virevas allowed him a look of acknowledgement and perhaps just a bit of gratitude before she set out.
She fought the shaking of her body, instead moving to the center of the room and seeking signs of passage. The battle, however, had erased it beneath the corpses of those beasts, their slick, black blood, and the resulting scuffle, sending tracks wildly everywhere to conceal nearly everything. With a huff of frustration, she instead resorted to circling the room, slowly, starting very near to the mirror and slowly making her way outwards.
Duncan was gone. He was not in the room, and Merrill had joined him. She realized this when she bumped into Fenarel, causing her to look up and break concentration. He reassuringly smiled at her when her panicked gaze flicked around, before the two went back to their work. It was tedious.
When Virevas shouted, he looked up, rushing over to see what she was investigating. A shoulderpad, with a broken strap, was on the ground before her. She looked up, brow furrowed in intense concentration, and strode forward. They both froze when they saw dusty, sickly flesh.
They moved again when they saw it shift, both of them hurrying to clear away leaves, bits of rubble, and other such things. Virevas almost sobbed when she saw the dirty, blonde mop of her friend, but instead looked to Fenarel both gratefully and pleadingly. He got the message, gently picking up the prone elf and throwing him over his shoulder. And then, they left.
A/N: Ah, story time! Let's try to keep to the schedule this time, yes? My plan is to post by Sunday every week, unless I absolutely can't. I'll post elvish down here for the people who aren't as nerdy as I.
Nae - no
Din'dirth, shem! - Do not speak, human!
Venan'vhen! - Let me find him!
Lan'ar! - Allow me!