DAWC=Dragon Age Writer's Corner, a forum to discuss any and everything about writing and Dragon Age and even beyond! We've started coming up with some creative challenges. One was to write about rain from the perspective of a character who's never experienced it before. And the term 'sky water', I got from my best friend when her cat ran away for a few days to see what it was like, then went all prodigal kitteh and came home during a rainstorm.
Sky Water
You've lived your whole life with the weight of the world pressing down on your shoulders. You're used to pressure. You're used to being surrounded even when you're completely alone. The stone has always been a comfort, though since Branka up and left, you find more comfort in ale. Who cares if it tastes like dragon piss? It keeps you from feeling.
But up here? There is none of the comfort of the stone. It is below your feet, and somehow that does not feel like nearly enough to anchor you. You keep looking up at the endless blue and you trip because you're not looking down at the ground. You blame the alcohol, though you're more sober than you've been in years.
You follow behind the Wardens and their unruly retinue and wonder how they can be so comfortable; so relaxed when all you want is to turn back to the comfort of the surrounding stone. The female Warden revels in the sunlight, which is too bright for you after the soft orange glow of Orzammar. She laughs and points out a shape in the clouds and her male companion, the Pike Twirler, you've taken to calling him (because you were too drunk to remember his name when he told you) chuckles and squeezes her shoulder. You dare a glance up at the white thing she points to. Maybe it could pass for a nug. After it had been dropped down a chasm, run over by a bronto, then dragged back up to Orzammar proper by its tail.
As the days pass the color is sucked from the sky. The perky Chantry sister with the great rack and cute accent says it is "cloud cover" and that it will likely rain before the end of the day. Pike Twirler and Girl Warden sigh and begin discussing their supplies and gear while the giant Qunari watches them. The elven assassin comes back with a brace of rabbits, which he describes as 'furry nugs'. Fur doesn't seem too appetizing. In fact, nothing about the surface world does.
They set up camp a short way off the road and you realize you don't have a tent. You don't have much but the armor on your back, your weapon, and a supply of alcohol you hope to replenish at the next village. Pike Twirler builds a rough stone fire pit; Girl Warden and Chantry Sister stack kindling while Elven Assassin peels the skin off the rabbits with one of his daggers. He was right; without the fur they do resemble nugs. Perhaps you can handle this.
And then something hits your head. You glance around, but no one has the smirk of a prankster tossing rocks at you. Another gentle plop on your head, trickling through the matted flame-red hair to tingle, chilly, on your scalp. You glance around nervously. The roasting semi-nugs crackle on a spit; the bitchy mage has set up her own camp a short ways away from camp proper, which is just fine by you. You take a swig of dragon piss from your flask and then the cold wetness plops on your hand. You glance around. No one's looking so you sniff. Nothing. You look up and all at once several droplets shower down on your face.
"Of all the sodding nug-humping ancestors!" you exclaim, and Elven Assassin is about to chuckle when water begins dropping onto the campsite in earnest.
There is a scramble to reach for the food as the water douses the fire. Girl Warden laughs and spins under the shower, her dark auburn hair plastered to her head. How she can look up and not fear drowning is beyond you. Everyone else runs for the shelter of a tent, but you stand there in the cold water falling from the sky. It scares you, but leaves you paralyzed with fear. You've spent the last days fearing falling up into the sky; and now the sky lets things fall down.
The water soaks through your hair and beard. It runs down your face and over your armor in rivulets. You flick your gaze around to realize you are alone beside the dying fire. And then Girl Warden drops her hand on your shoulder. "Hey, Oghren. We set up a tent for you earlier. Go on, get out of the rain."