Liquid Crystals
A/N: I must give credit to Rose Tinted Contact Lenses for this brainstorm (so to speak ;). In Chapter 29 of her fantastic story "Armour", she mentioned a prompt she posted at the DAWC forum: "Write a story from the perspective of someone discovering rain for the first time." After reading the excellent responses to the challenge, including hers, I came up with my own, belated idea. So…for you, Rose, and those writers who gave such wonderful answers of their own. :)
Disclaimer: All I own of Dragon Age: Origins is a copy of the Ultimate Edition. I would say Anais (minimally), but like my other Wardens, she belongs to no one. ^_~
"In the hour of adversity, be not without hope, for crystal rain falls from black clouds."
~ Nizami Ganjavi
The clouds were rolling in, veiling the fading moon and stars. A storm was coming.
Anais Aeducan did not sleep well that night. No matter how tightly she pulled her thin blanket around her, a draft always found a way to slip in, and she shivered for what must have been hours. At least, after more than a week on the surface, the air's cold purity no longer choked her.
Still, she preferred the cramped closeness of her tent to the vastness of the world outside. At night, cocooned in her bedroll, she felt safe, secure. Even when she couldn't sleep, she preferred to huddle next to the fire, trying vainly to shroud herself in its warmth. Walking outside, as she and Duncan had done from nearly sunup to sundown every day since leaving Orzammar, she felt swallowed up by the sky, the air, the light. The first time she had set foot above ground, she had nearly collapsed, stunned by it all – she, a child of House Aeducan, its newest commander, its brightest spark.
Not anymore, she thought bitterly. Her brother had seen to that. Now here she was, in a land that had always been right over her head, but felt as distant and foreign to her as Kal-Sharok. With every step, she felt she might either sink into the ground or fall up to the sky – and often secretly wished for the former. She had never known whether to think surface dwarves brave or foolish, and was beginning to decide perhaps they were both. How could they – and now she – live in a world without a ceiling or walls, without boundaries, without end?
When at last she fell asleep, curled into a ball, her thoughts were not of the one who had betrayed her, but the one who loved her, who had been exiled for her. Ancestors, protect him…
o~O~o
She woke to the soft sound of tapping on her tent.
She stirred, puzzled. Had she overslept? Was this Duncan's method of rousing her? In the days previous, he had simply let her be woken by the sunlight streaming through her tent – an odd enough phenomenon as it was.
Another beat. Then another, and another. No, these were lighter, less insistent, and yet somehow harder, firmer, than a tapping finger.
She sat up, rubbing the remaining haze of sleep from her eyes. The patter grew steadily persistent. It surrounded her, sending gentle vibrations through the cloth walls.
Carefully moving her cast-off armor aside, she pushed the tent flap open and tentatively stretched out a small, callused hand.
Something cold, and wet, splattered into her palm. She instinctively shut her fingers, jerked her fist back inside. Slowly, deliberately, she opened it again. Cupped in her hand, cool and trembling, was a single drop of…water?
She slid the crystalline bead around her fingers, tasted its subtle sweetness, even rubbed her face in it. Yes, this was water. But where had it come from?
The patter was louder now. Flicking her hand dry, she reached for her armor and pulled it on. She hesitated, just a few moments longer, then took a deep breath and stepped outside.
Water was falling all around her, not just on her tent, but everywhere in sight. She looked up, wincing as icy drops landed on her face, clung to her eyelashes. Where was it coming from? Not the sky, surely, the sky without end – but where else?
She remembered what Duncan had told her the night before, while he doused the fire. "It feels like rain tomorrow, Anais, so we may not get far."
"Rain?" She looked at him, perplexed. "What's that?"
He had explained, as best he could, what was second nature to him, as it were. She had nodded and mostly grasped what he was saying, though not what he was talking about. He had patiently answered her questions – where did the water come from? How long would it fall? Was it safe to drink? – and told her it was something she would have to experience for herself.
Now, alone under layers of clouds, with water trickling down her skin, she finally understood.
She took a few steps, still mesmerized by what she saw above her. The sky, the endless sky – it was not blue, nor black, nor layered in pink and orange. Instead, it was gray. Gray, like stone. She found that comforting, in a way she could not explain. For once she was not blinded by its brightness. The misty air soothed her lungs rather than seared them.
She held out her hand again, caught a few more droplets. They glinted, just a little, like uncut gems. The drops still falling gleamed even more brightly, hitting the pools and streams they formed with tiny, shimmering bursts. Like lyrium, she thought, with its otherworldly glow and winding, dazzling veins. Or like fluid crystals, alone and in clusters, catching the smallest ray of light and beaming it back.
For the first time since the door to the Deep Roads had closed behind her, she almost felt as if she were home.
Her gaze fell to the ground. She touched it, delicately, the glistening grass flowing through her fingers. As she did, she inexplicably found herself longing to feel it between her toes.
Cautiously, she drew off her boots and tossed them into her tent. As the grass squished beneath her feet, she reveled in the odd sensation. It wasn't like stone, or soil; it was solid, yet it rippled. She realized it was the first time she had been barefoot since the Deep Roads.
As her eyes were drawn upwards again, something else struck her, along with the drops.
The rain – it came from somewhere. It meant the sky had an end. Where it was, she did not know, but that did not matter. The void didn't go on forever, as she had often felt it did. There were borders to this world, though compared to Orzammar they were still well beyond her mind's reach. But she could comprehend it. Maybe not now, maybe not in a year, but she could try.
She still felt insignificant against the enormity of it all, but instead of being overwhelmed, she found herself growing excited, at the sheer number of possibilities before her, of the journeys she could go on, the discoveries she could make, things she would never have dared even dream of in her old life.
And she would not be on her own in these ventures. For now, she had Duncan, and soon, she would have the other Wardens. Maybe there would be other dwarves among them, or at least people worth getting to know.
Her excitement faded as she thought of the only dwarf in the world who still mattered to her.
Gorim. Was he outside now, alone, in this rain? Had he felt the drops with the same sense of awe as she had? Had he seen their shimmer, their splash? Was he thinking of her, wishing he could share this surface world wonder with her?
She did not know if the water that ran down her face at that moment was hers or the sky's.
As she drew her hand across her eyes, pushing back her soaking bangs, she remembered one more thing. A name. A place.
Denerim.
Her sadness gradually gave way to hope. If the ancestors favored them, she would see him again.
She felt her anticipation resurge. She couldn't wait to tell him everything she was learning.
All around her, the liquid crystals glittered like beacons in the gray.
o~O~o
Duncan woke to the sound of falling rain. Mixed with it, however, was another sound, a slightly louder one. It was unfamiliar, and he needed a moment to figure out what it was.
Laughter.
Sitting up, he moved the tent flap aside and looked out.
He did not see the wary dwarf he had met again by chance in the Deep Roads, exiled princess and sheltered noble, capable yet uncertain.
He saw instead a young dwarven woman, armored while barefoot, hair plastered to her skin, eyes wide and bright with amazement, water cascading in shining rivulets down her small body, lips stretched in a bewildered, yet brilliant smile.
His own, softer smile curved his mouth, as the last of his worries washed away.
He knew, then, his newest recruit would be all right.
A/N: When it comes to imagining a dwarven perspective of growing up and living underground (messy politics aside :P) – well, once you've spent an afternoon inside an old Welsh coal mine, some 300 feet beneath the earth's surface, further extrapolation in that area isn't that much of a stretch, so to speak. ^_~ (If you're not claustrophobic, and ever find yourself in or near Wales, I highly recommend the experience.)
If you'd like to read the other stories inspired by Rose's prompt – and I highly recommend all of them – check out chapter 29 of "Armour" for titles and authors (and the rest of the fic while you're at it ;), linked in my favorites.
My thanks to the following:
Once again, the awesome Rose Tinted Contact Lenses, and the other writers she challenged, for the inspiration. Much obliged :), even if it did strike at a rather inconvenient hour (1 A.M., to be precise ;).
BioWare, of course, for the wonderful world and equally terrific characters populating it that we fans are so kindly allowed to have our fun with. ^_^
RainyMood, for the perfect writing soundtrack accompaniment – especially for this story. ^_~
Ray Bradbury, for the image of a young girl holding a single raindrop in "All Summer in a Day."
You, as always, for reading. I hope you enjoyed. :)