A.N. OK. So this is hopefully going to be my longest Author Note in the beginning. Just have to do some housecleaning...
1) This collection is a companion to my main story, Always Comes the Dawn. I will update it as that story proceeds...with several updates within the next couple of weeks (hopefully week) to bring Devona up to where I am at in ACTD. ACTS will make references to what happens in that story, so if you want to just read this collection, you may be a little lost. Sorry, but I wanted to use Devona CousCous as a way I can focus on honing my ability to capture emotion, while ACTD is to practice novel-writing apparently. XD
2) I've become convinced that my muse is a goth. Srsly. She likes dark and depressing and will only rarely give me the inspiration to do something that can bring a smile to one's face. Especially with Devona's story - expect a long, cold winter of bitter and tragic events and emotions...but be rest assured that always comes the spring!
4) I don't *know* if my muse got this idea from reading about Miri1984's "Caged", but if you like the idea of a non warden CousCous whom Howe tortures, and want a more in depth (and I'm sure better written) story, I encourage you to check that story out. I know I will be as soon as I get through this first part and can be *pretty* sure I can't be accused of stealing ideas! XD
~V~
Her world was falling apart in flames.
Her mother, Eleanor, was cradling her dying father's head, singing him a song Devona recognized from her youth. Eleanor had told her once that the song was one she had sung to Bryce while huddling close to the small fires they built during Maric's campaign to reclaim Ferelden from the Orlesians. She called it her song of victory.
Devona clasped tightly onto her father's hand as she tried to fight off the tears. Tears will only get in my way. I need to have my vision clear to if I am to kill that bastard. A dry hand wiped her eyes before returning to her father's hand. His scarred but much loved hand soon glistened with her tears.
Cala, her beloved hound, whined behind her, sensing the grief she felt, and anxious that there was nothing she could do to aid her. She gently pressed her muzzle against Devona's back, and whined again before sitting beside her mistress and giving her something solid to lean on.
Her mother's voice stopped suddenly and the tears flowed freely as she caressed a face now devoid of pain. Devoid of life. Devon let out a haggard cry and brought her father's lifeless hand to her lips, kissing it gently with both her lips and her tears.
"We're on-on our o-own, pup." Her mother forced out in between her heaves of loss, using the pet name her husband had used to call her only daughter.
A name, a voice, Devona would never hear again.
The two women wept for their husband and father, their training partner, their adviser, their friend. Eventually Eleanor took in a deep breath and gently took her husband's hand from her grieving daughter and placed both his arms clasped across his chest while murmuring his favorite verses from the Chant. Devona let her mother do what she could for a proper funeral, weeping into her hands before she fell upon her Cala, wrapping her shaking arms around the ever-steady mabari and burrowing her face into her most loyal friend's grey fur. Cala lightly nuzzled Devona's shoulder, trying to comfort her as best the hound could.
~V~
Stomp.
Wailing turned to muted cries.
Stomp stomp
Tears are wiped from grief-worn eyes.
Stomp shuffle stomp.
Prayers are said for their foes quick demise.
~V~
Mother and daughter clutched their swords in their hands as they both brought themselves to their feet, each slowly bringing their breathing back under control using the method taught to them as warriors. At her mother's nod, Devona took up a position right beside the barred door and raised the sword to her face, pressing it against the cool metal, and forcing herself to forget all that had happened before that moment and focus on the battle that was to be. Her mother also pressed her back against the cool stone wall right beside her. Nothing was said. Nothing needed to be said.
~V~
SLAM!.
They were outside.
SLAM SLAM!
They wanted in.
SLAM SLAM – CRACK!
They were here.
~V~
As the first man plunged into room Devona brought her sword down with enough force to cleave the man's foolishly held out sword arm from the rest of his body, which she kicked hard against the opposing wall, a sharp crack resounding in the small room as he collapsed. As Devona recovered her stance, Eleanor threw herself at the next man of Howe unfortunate enough to make his way into the room. He took his eyes off his fallen comrade too late to repel the blade as it slammed down into his shoulder plate, bringing him to his knees. Eleanor took a step back and let her daughter finish the man off, which she did with relish, her sword arcing towards the man's exposed neck with all the rage she felt at the bastard who had betrayed her family. His head went flying behind him, splattering the men who had been ordered to kill them with their comrade's blood.
As Devona readied herself for her next swing, Cala launched herself at the next man, causing him to fall back in fear. A wicked grin played across her lips and she took a step forward to end his despair herself- when suddenly her back arched and she heard the most horrific scream come from the very depths of her soul. PAIN.
"Devona? Devona!" she thought she heard her mother scream out, but her eyes could see nothing but white light as her limbs jerked of their own accord. Perhaps there was the sound of metal clashing against metal, more growls and howls, but soon enough there was naught but silence.
As suddenly as the pain had begun to ravage her, it stopped, and she collapsed with closed eyes onto the stone floor with heaving breathes, trying once more to perform the meditation exercise she had had drilled into her so many years ago. As she gained control of her breathing she slowly she became aware of a warm sensation enveloping her right hand. She brought her trembling hand to her still weak body and cracked an eye open before she became frozen with shock. Blood. Darting eyes soon found its source and she cried out as she flung herself back, trying to get as far away from this reality as she could.
Her head cracked against the solid wall behind her and she collapsed to her side, looking into the dead gaze of her mother before her world faded to black.
~V~
"Oh. What a good girl she is, knocking herself out for us. I've always admired her for her sense of courtesy- her father raised her up so well. Tomas will be disappointed, of course but such is the way in the world...Well then, tie her up! I want her delivered to my estate as soon as possible."
"As you wish, Arl Howe"
~V~
Reviews are always welcomed... XD