Right, then. This is Twili, reporting back from No-Man's-Land. I'm BACK, BABY. YEAH.
(dude. Now watch this story peter out and die by the third chapter. Don't worry. It won't.)
Anyway, hopefully this will pull through. I won't be as elaborate as I was on Carpe Diem, because that was just a special case (in the Author Notes, I mean). However, let me explain to you the nature of this story:
Firstly, don't judge me from this. This is my OMGZZORS-I-THINK-I'LL-BE-MATURE-AND-WRITE-A-SERIOUS-ROMANCE-THAT-ACTUALLY-MAKES-CHARACTERS-MULTI-LAYERED-AND-BIPOLAR-and-all-that-goodness story. It won't be my normal writing, but it will be rated M (in future) for a reason: interesting stuff ahead (no lemon, you pervs), language (for the milder souls-I don't curse that much when I talk), and in-general practice. I'm all right for now with where I am as a writer, but I'm really working on making my characters truly grow and change-not just that surface stuff. You know, the girl-is-selfish-then-she-meets-smoking-hot-guy-and-realizes-her-life-is-worth-living stuff. No. WE WILL BE DEALING WITH AN IDENTITY CRISIS OR TWO AND ISSUES WITH CORE VALUES AND MORALS.
Overall, it's gonna be a bumpy ride. But I think it'll be fun. (the first chapter might be a little slow-it always is in third person, with me. I like first person better, but third person has its merits)
BEFORE WE BEGIN: Nesiria is my first character. Elf mage. Experienced. In a romance with Alistair. Don't let that deter you.
Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age. At all. From this point on, though, my disclaimers get kind of strange. Random and whatnot.
x.X.x
"All right. We'll stay at the Gnawed Noble."
"Oh, joy," Alistair muttered in Nesiria's general direction, and she turned sharply. The lantern light glimmered in her eyes, though, and the elf gave a small half-smirk.
"All right. You can set up camp in the back alley, hm?" she asked, giving him an innocently inquiring look. He recoiled and put his hands up in front of his chest.
"Oh, no. No, no, no, no. I'm staying here," the Templar insisted, and his favorite Grey Warden-the only other one, really, though she had said before that he was narcissistic enough to like himself just as much-smiled.
"I'll be the judge of that." She gave her hair a mock-flip and opened the door of the tavern, gesturing for the others to follow. Wynne, the gentlest mage of the group, sighed contentedly. Young love, she thought. I hope they never lose each other.
The bartender raised a dirty rag at the party's entrance, and Nesiria nodded in return. A woman standing near the bar, shifting her weight absently with her arms folded across her chest, glanced at the group and waved cheerily.
"Welcome to the Gnawed Noble!" she said with a lilting voice, slightly accented with hints of Orlesian. "How many rooms will you be needing?" She glanced again at the size of the group, and before Nesiria could answer she continued, "And do you have any need of a few...special services? We have men, women, and both!" The elf shook her head quickly, and answered the first question.
"I think we'll need three. Three rooms." Generally, the males and females in the group separated and had their own quarters-less than four to a room, though it had been known to get awkward-but they tried to get an extra when they had the gold. Mostly it was an issue of comfort, and someone always objected to sharing a room with Bear-the Mabari hound that insisted he have his own bed.
"Right, then. I'm Edwina, and-really..." She lowered her voice, her eyes darting to one side of the room. "...if you do need anything by way of special services, ask Ara over there. She hasn't been doing too well lately, what with the lack of customers." Nesiria followed Edwina's gaze, as did almost everyone else. Ara was perhaps in her twenties, one leg propped up on the chair opposite her and listlessly tracing knots and patterns in the wood table. Her eyes were dreary and gray, though she glanced toward them when Nesiria stared for a moment too long and sat up, her dress sliding farther up her leg. The elf looked elsewhere and turned to lightly slap Alistair's face away, muttering only half-jokingly, "Shame on you." He smiled hopelessly.
"I am male, you know."
"Then you aren't a mature male."
"Oh, ouch." Nearby, Wynne had done the same with Zevran-though she had her staff pointed threateningly at his face so that he had gone cross-eyed trying to watch it, eyebrows furrowed at awkward angles. Leliana studiously kept her gaze on the ceiling, and Sten...well, Sten was more interested in the rather expensive-looking painting on the wall above Ara. He decided that it was a fake-the brushstrokes were far too even to be natural-and looked back at Nesiria.
"I will find our rooms," he told her, and she nodded absently.
"Thanks." She looked pointedly at Alistair, and he jumped.
"Right, well...I'll just...go with him, then...?" he said, phrasing it like a question. The elf nodded with a smile, grasping his hand for a moment.
"And Zevran will accompany you," the Antivan spoke up, shying away from Wynne's staff and tiptoeing over to the Templar.
"All right. Anyone else who wants to can go up. I'll be there in a minute." She turned to Ara and started toward the girl, who straightened. Morrigan rolled her eyes and followed the others upstairs, Wynne trailing with Leliana tagging along behind so that Nesiria was the only one left. Not that she minded much, really.
She plopped down next to Ara, introducing herself.
"Need anything?" the girl asked, giving the elf a well-practiced alluring stare. Nesiria shook her head, smiling.
"Sorry, no." The stare disappeared.
"All right, then. You could have bought me dinner, you know. But fine. I've gone without it before." Her voice was dry, and cracked. Nesiria felt a spasm of pity, but it must have been too obvious in her face-or far too predictable-because Ara's expression sharpened. "And I don't need your help."
"Then don't consider this help," the elf answered, sliding a sovereign across the table. She stood, smiling lightly, and thudded back up the stairs. Ara's hand closed over the gold coin, eyes widening. Don't consider this help.
Morning came, though it came incredibly late. Everyone had finally gotten to sleep at the wee hours of the morning from twenty four hours of journeying and walking and walking and questing, so they found themselves snoozing until incredible times. As Nesiria rolled over she nearly bumped into Bear, who had snuck into her bed in the middle of the night and practically shoved her to the edge. Wishing he was Alistair-partly because she would never be shoved to the edge with him-she swung her bare feet onto the floor and buckled and laced and snapped her armor on. Leliana was swinging her bow across her back on the opposite side of the room, and Morrigan leaned by the doorway and sighed every now and then.
"Oh, patience, girl," Wynne chided when she exhaled rather loudly for the fourth time. "We're moving."
"Not fast enough to stop the Blight," the mage snapped.
"Go cry to the Templars, then. As if you even care about the darkspawn eating us all," Alistair intervened, poking his head inside the doorway. A pillow hit him in the face.
"I'm dressing." Nesiria chucked another pillow.
"Yes, but you sleep in your clothes," he answered, catching it. "Unless that dog somehow got them off, I don't have any reason to put my innocence in jeopardy."
"Innocence," the elf muttered. "Innocence! I'll show you how much innocence you have, young man."
"Ooh, scary." He ducked out of the room just as a blast of icy air froze the humidity in the air around the doorframe.
"Yeah, you better run," Nesiria growled, but she smiled as she spoke.
"Ready?" Morrigan asked, somehow fitting a sigh into her question.
"Nah, I think we'll just stay here for the day."
"You don't want to mess with me like that."
"I probably don't."
The elf finally slung her staff over her shoulder, leading the way into the hall where Sten, Zevran, and Alistair were already waiting. Bear trotted out behind them, tongue lolling out, and shoved his face into the Antivan's crotch as a customary greeting. Zevran yelped, pushing the dog's head away and backing into a wall, and Alistair snorted.
"At least he's found a new friend."
"Hush, because once he was doing it to you." Zevran's eyes narrowed, and he turned away to evade the huge dog-unsuccessfully.
"Right, then," Nesiria interjected, clearing her throat. "Shall we?"
"We shall. Where to?" the Templar inquired.
"Perhaps we can talk to Sergeant Kylon today-I know he said that he had a few propositions for us. Good chance to help the needy and poor, hm? And, you know, get some practice." Sten suppressed a sigh, but Morrigan let her feelings be known.
"Can we please just get out of Denerim? I am sick of this place."
"That's nice. You can stay in the inn all day, if you'd like." Nesiria smiled to take the sting out of her words, and the other mage looked away absently. Her argument had been halfhearted, anyway.
"Fine. Only because I don't like you."
"Thanks." The elf unrolled a map of Denerim borrowed from the Chantry, finding the Sergeant's place and nodding to herself. Right in their region, next to the market. She stuffed it back in her backpack. "Let's go, team."
They reached the man, hair graying, right by the pavilion. He recognized the group immediately, throwing his arms out.
"Ah, you're back!"
Nesiria nodded politely.
"Well, I have been thinking, and I believe-if you're willing-that you would do best to start with the White Falcons. They're a band of mercenaries causing trouble, sucking some of my men along with them, but we don't have enough to spare to fight them all. Can you handle it?"
"You want us to kill them, fight them, or scare them off?"
"Don't kill them if you can help it, but make sure they don't return. And if they do, then I'd say you cripple them. If they keep coming back, you didn't cripple them enough. Then you kill them." Kylon grinned. "Easy as that."
"Sounds simple enough. Where are they?" Nesiria, of course, couldn't say that she liked the idea of killing anyone, because with the Blight they needed all the help they could get-though it was because of the Blight that taking life became a necessity sometimes, however much they hated it.
"Last I heard, they were drinkin' their lives away at the Pearl. I'd start there."
"Right. Thank you, and we'll return soon."
"I might have more work for ye' if you come back."
They turned and charted a course for the next district, through the back alleys and to the docks where Isabela's ship floated. Alistair didn't like the "if" in Kylon's parting sentence, but he said nothing.
The bartender didn't look up when they entered the Pearl, and Isabela waved from a back hall, a straight shot from where Nesiria stood. The elf nodded good-naturedly, but the smile on her face disappeared when she saw the White Falcon mercenaries. She walked up to the man who was clearly the leader, wanting to get this over with quickly, and asked quietly, "What would it take for me to get you to leave?" He turned in surprise, took her in and registered her question, and raised an eyebrow.
"A helluva lot, missy." A small, self-righteous smirk spread on his face.
"A fight?"
"I wouldn't want you to fight me."
"I would." She sometimes enjoyed putting on a bravado-these comebacks didn't show themselves often. Mostly she just cast the first spell because she had nothing left to say.
"Oh, ye would? Well, then..." He crossed the room and held the door open for her. "Why don't we take this outside?"
Nesiria didn't kill them, though they were heavily outmatched with the mages. Immobilizing every man was no problem for the three magic-users in the party, and then it was a simple matter for Alistair and Sten to knock them down, Leliana to plant a few arrows in their armor, and Zevran to somehow drop from the very sky and scare the Maker's wind out of anyone-his allies as well. From there, the mercenaries left without a problem.
"Well..." she sighed, dusting her armor off. "I suppose we go back to Kylon now." She had had fun in the thick of it, she had to admit, but now that it was over she realized-as always-that she would rather have never injured anyone. It was just a matter of ignoring the feeling.
"I suppose we do. Shall we take a different route back?" Alistair suggested, and the elf nodded.
"Probably a good idea."
As it turned out, it probably was.
They wove through a few alleyways, dodging bandit groups with magic for the most part, and nearly reached the market district without event. It was Bear's sharp senses that prevented that, though, and he stopped and held one paw suspended in the air. Nesiria halted as well, waiting and wondering if he would find another rotten cake for her to present to Alistair and claim to have made it. He brushed his nose against the ground in a few circles before following a distinct trail behind one of the shacks and eventually into it.
Nesiria and the others tailed behind, and paused in the decrepit doorway. There, shafts of sunlight falling over her face and forcibly-bleached hair so that it grew out brown near the roots, was Ara. Her eyes glinted from under her arm, and she uncurled and pulled her locks out of her face when she recognized the elf. Her right hand was gouged and bloodied, unwrapped and still bleeding, but other than a few minor bruises on her jaw and forearms she seemed all right. Her eyes narrowed.
"What happened?" Nesiria asked, a hint of urgency in her voice.
"Your damn gold." Ara paused, squinting up at them. "Following me now?"
"No...the dog found you..." The elf trailed off. "The gold?"
"The sovereign you so kindly gave me." Her voice was layered thick with sarcasm. "Not everyone in Denerim is peachy, you know. I swear by Andraste they can smell it. So they came after me, and I didn't let go until I couldn't keep my hand closed 'nymore. Always said it was safer to be damn poor and starve than filthy rich and be murdered for it."
"You gave her a sovereign?" Morrigan asked, throwing her hands up in frustration. "What are we, a charity? That's the Chantry's job, not ours. We don't hand out gold because we have more than she did. And you got her into trouble, to boot."
"All right, fine," Nesiria snapped. "I didn't know."
"Damn right you didn't. Leave me alone." Ara turned away, and the elf hesitated.
"Wait. At least let me help you."
"You already did."
"I told you not to think of that as help. Just..." She cast around for something. "Your hand. That won't...raise suspicion or anything, would it?" She was, undeniably, out of her league. Compared to this, the Mage's Tower was a safe haven. This was tooth-and-nail for a few silvers. For dinner. For food.
"What can you do?" Ara asked, shielding it. In truth, she was doing her best to ignore the gash-it had made bile rise in her throat three times already, from either the incessant pain or the look of it. She hadn't known that there was so much more than just blood in her palm: tendons, capillaries, the whole lot. And it was revolting when it was oozing out and she could pluck her tendons like a harp. Or, at least, she imagined she could. Not that that made it any better.
"I can heal it. Then wrap it, so no one knows it's healed. You might have to be a bit of an actress about it, though-pretend like it hurts and everything." Nesiria shrugged. So tempting.
"Pretend? Why? I'm never going back out anyway."
"Of course you are. No one lives in a shack their whole life."
"If I went back out, I wouldn't have much of a whole life to live."
"Fine. Just let me heal it."
Ara hesitated, hearing some reserve gone in her voice and, despite herself, wishing it had stayed. "Okay."
With surprising experience, Nesiria took her fingers and turned her palm up, gripping her staff and letting the currents of magic flow from it. Ara shuddered, a feeling like rubber bands pulling at each other beneath her skin, and when she looked down again there was nothing but a pink, shining scar. She flexed her fingers, using her tattered shirt to wipe the blood off and trying to keep from gagging-though she failed-as Nesiria stood with a strange expression.
"I'm going to stay here tonight," she announced. "Anyone who wants to stay can: anyone who doesn't can go back to the Gnawed Noble."
"Oh, come on," Morrigan muttered. "And I'm going to be the only one with enough sense to sleep in a bed while I still can."
"I think I will accompany you in selfishness." Zevran spoke. "We will be leaving Denerim soon, I assume." Bear got up and followed the elf, who groaned but carried on behind Morrigan as she swept out.
"All right," Nesiria said, almost to herself. "Can't say I didn't see that coming." She sank down next to Ara, and Wynne, Alistair, Leliana, and Sten threw out a few blankets outside of the shack. Knowing his favorite elf well, Alistair hurled a rolled-up blanket into the doorway, then another.
"Have fun playing House," he called, and she smiled.
"We will."
All through this, Ara had remained silent, pondering her hand. Now she looked up. "What exactly are you doing?"
"I don't know. I just felt like staying here."
"Protecting me or something? You feel bad?" Some cynicism was leaking into her voice again, and Nesiria shrugged.
"I kind of wanted to get you talking. I'm curious. You know, about you and why you're here in the market district instead of having fun at your job in the Pearl. Other things, too."
"What is this, a diversion? Slipping me more gold or something?"
"No, not a diversion. You mind telling me?"
"Very much, actually." Ara grabbed a blanket and threw it out over herself, drawing it around her shoulders and hunching away from the imposing elf, cast in shadows now that the sun was beginning to sink.
"All right. I can wait."
"I doubt it."
In truth, she couldn't. Nesiria dozed for awhile, and jerked awake at Ara's sudden voice come midnight. She rubbed her eyes, then registered what was happening and sat up.
"I won't tell you everything," the girl was saying. "Just the answers to what you addressed. For example, my father is still alive somewhere in Denerim, though I don't know him anymore and he never knew me, and my mother...well, I don't know where she is. As soon as my brother was old enough to take care of us both, she upped and left. So there's my orphan sob-story. We had a messed-up family, anyway." Nesiria blinked.
"Then some things changed, some didn't, and I ended up able to take care of myself all right but with no means of doing so. My brother was...somewhere else, though I still...saw him, and there wasn't any way of making money in Denerim. I wasn't going to steal yet, because there were plenty of people that needed their things as much as I did, so I visited the Pearl after Isaac gave me the idea of...their jobs. It didn't work out for awhile, and I ran out of resources. I couldn't sell anything, I was too old to become an apprentice, and I had already had people ask me why I wasn't working with Sanga already. So, finally, when I was on the verge of stealing everyone blind, I went back." Ara shrugged. "One thing after another, and I ended up leaving the Pearl and finding better business at the Gnawed Noble with Edwina's regulars. So far it's worked all right, but I still don't see how they're so happy about it with Sanga. That's it."
"Oh." Really, Nesiria didn't know how anything else she said would make a difference. Oh. It made sense. She nodded. "Okay, then. I'll talk, if you'd like, or we can just sleep."
"Sleep."
"Wait-one more thing."
"What?"
"How long since you started that?"
"Being a hooker?"
"Um...yeah, I suppose. Prostitute sounds too saintly, huh?"
"That's why I say hooker. Awhile. More than, say, four years. I lost count."
"Oh." Okay. Nesiria yawned and slowly dropped off again when it was clear Ara had nothing more to say, back into sleep with a new story circling in her head. It was true, she thought idly. Hooker sounds so much more badass.
x.X.x
So, if you've never read anything of mine before (and I doubt you have), I almost always do A/N framing my chapter. Generally they comment or explain something you wouldn't otherwise understand had I said it at the beginning, and-of course-I always need to thank you and then beg for reviews.
Questions? Things that I missed? This'll be kind of a jacked-up story, because we'll be going out-of-order and in circles rather than the linear game path (which, for me, goes like this: Redcliffe, Mages' Tower, Sacred Ashes, Brecilian Forest, blah blah blah and crap, and Orzammar. Wooo.)
BUT.
WE WILL BE CIRCLING AROUND. Say, starting with Redcliffe and then going to the Mages' Tower and then stopping and doing some crap and wasting a bunch of chapters on an entirely different journey that actually directly involves our main character (who, if you haven't figured out, is Ara). Then we go back to the game path, then leave it, then go back-etc. It might take awhile.
Okay! Thanks!