Well, hello again :)
So, it turns out, trying to write a bit every day is a lot harder on holidays when projects and papers are due in every class o..o' That's my excuse for lagging (this time), and I'm sticking with it.
This chapter is more dense, there's a lot more of it... I figure as we go though the story, that's expected. You need to know more, so I can't afford to be vague.
But enough prattle! Please do enjoy...
Haven's fucking cold.
And miserable.
Everyone knew it.
You knew it in Origins, you remembered it in Dragon Age 2 (hey, Kirkwall's a shithole, but at least it's not fucking Haven), and it was a swift upper-cut to your jaw in Inquisition.
In the seven days she'd spent getting her feet firmly back under her, she'd come to two possible conclusions.
One: She was dead, her twisted brain had hallucinated being in Haven, and this was actually the ninth circle of hell. Evidence: It was colder than Lucifer's armpit.
Two: She was crazy. It's the only way for all of this to be happening and her not be dead.
Three: ….this shit was real. Evidence… it felt real. Like, not a polished daydream or fantasy, but gritty, and horrible, and real. And that… well that was terrifying. This game was her jam, and now it wasn't a game anymore. And speaking of game, she was off hers.
Speaking of the things she knew, she knew her name. It was Amy. Amy McManus…and she was the wibbily-wobbliest insane inter-planer hell-mate ever.
"Balls." She grunted to herself. It was some strange twist of irony that profanity was something that was easier to pronounce.
She barely made it out to the training yard before needing to rest and breathe… Haven was a little different from in-game Haven. The layout was mostly the same, but everything seemed…. Much larger.
She really had no way of telling how far along they were in the timeline, and people didn't just linger outside. If you wanted to find Solas or Varric (or the Groundscrapers), they were probably indoors. So even if Dorian or Cole were here, they weren't where she could see them.
The dull roar of the men almost gave her a bit of hope. Cullen had so much more to work with than she'd assumed. Rows and rows of soldiers in different divisions practicing different techniques.
He even had some out on the ice practicing, which she assumed was reserved for more veteran fighters. You could spot the ones that had just moved into that sphere of training. The older soldiers could keep their feet, but the new guys were a little more wobbly.
It was exactly what she needed. To get back into a routine again. She was going to get soft and flabby if she kept snoozing in the spare rooms of the chantry. As it was, she could barely do her regular work-out routine with a simple set of 30, and God (or the Maker as it were) only knew when she last went on a run.
…What did it say about her that she missed her routine more than her family? Here she was in Haven or Hell, and she was more upset over loosing the chance to fully master Aikido than over never seeing her brothers or her parents again.
"Are you well, stranger?" this question came form an elven girl. Amy looked at her momentarily registering her features. Pretty brown hair held back in a thick braid, soft brown eyes, almond shaped, and vallaslin… whose vallaslin was that?
"Nahh." Amy's jaw flexed, her teeth bearing. She knew it wasn't pretty, but sometimes it helped to work the kinks out, so to speak. "Naht well." She said at last. "Speak. Bad." She shook her head.
"Oh." The woman surveyed her again. "You poor thing. Is it an injury of some sort, or are you cursed?" she inquired in such a concerned yet clinical fashion that Amy couldn't even be very angry at her.
"In….Injuh."
"Injury?"
Amy nodded. She pointed to the elf's forehead. "Sigh." She felt a strange tremor down her spine. "Sigh. Lay…lacccce."
The woman blinked before realizing what Amy was trying to convey. "Oh! Yes!" she absently traced a finger across her brow. "This is the mark of Sylaise." She eyed Amy with confusion. "Most humans don't know that."
"Know." Amy said, looking down at her shoes.
The woman stared at her before smiling again. "I'm Elossa." She said, gaining Amy's eye contact again. "Elossa Ghilain."
Amy blinked, recognizing that name but not remembering where from. "Ay me." Elossa cocked her head to the side, her wide eyes uncertain. Amy tapped her chest. "Ay.. Amy"
"Ayme? Your name? Oh. It's…different." Amy only shrugged. "Uh, I'm just… lingering away from the Mage's tent." She said gesturing over her shoulder.
There was a large tent, like the one the game had for Leliana, with about thirty or so mages huddled under it. They were all just gathered in the sunniest spot, because evidently the tend did block some of the wind. Amy blinked at that dumbly. Why in the world were the mages congregated here?
"My brother, Atrahel, he's right there." She said pointing towards the field. Amy followed the direction to find a dual dagger elf that looked so like Elossa, it was uncanny. Well. He looked like her, except for his vallaslin.
"Eheh…Ehhheel gar…nayhn." She said, as she noted the severe mark of Elgar'nan on his face.
"That right!" Elossa said with a nod. "You know vallaslin well." Amy shrugged, looking down again. "So…" Elossa began, obviously trying to keep conversation going. "If you could pick a vallaslin for yourself, which would you pick?"
Amy blinked. This had been crucial to at least 3 of her characters. She'd had a Dalish Warden and two elf Inquisitors. She knew the major players but…as much as she wanted to proclaim kinship with a fighter, the closest that they had to that was Elgar'nan or maybe Andruil…if hunting and fighting were at all similar. But… those didn't really fit her.
"Dirhh.." She ground her teeth together, trying to focus on saying the word without having to take short cuts or slur. "Dirth. Ah. Men."
"Dirthamen?" Elossa looked momentarily confused, but then Amy put both hands over her mouth and she giggled. "Oh. I see." She smiled.
"Excuse me, Miss?" A soldier interrupted, putting a hand on Elossa's elbow. "You need to get back in the tent."
"It's a little crowded in there, soldier." Elossa explained, trying to draw away without actually yanking her arm from his grasp. "And I can see my brother better from here, better." She motioned towards where the rogues were sparing.
His grip tightened. "That's not up to me. You need to get back where you belong." Was his response.
Amy. Was. Pissed.
She didn't have anything against touch, but this guy was touching someone he had no business touching. It was obviously making Elossa nervous, and it was setting Amy on edge. So she did exactly what she would've done if she'd been back home, and Elossa were Jamie.
She strode forward, rocking him back just by stepping into his person. Then she stretched out her leg, nudging the instep of his foot with her own and lengthening his stance so that he would be off balance. She leaned forward grabbing his breeches just above his knees and at the same time, she pulled up on his clothes so that his feet were dislodged and shoved her shoulder into his belly. He toppled over with a grunt, hitting the ground hard. Still, it was covered in snow, and it's what he got for wearing that ridiculous breast plate.
Amy glared down at him. "Piss. Off." She thundered in that 'oh no you don't, sir' voice that made all the men in her father's dojo wince. If spoken to properly from a woman, it directly translated to 'You have behaved inappropriately, and I will take you to task if it means taking it out of your person'. He actually flinched back and scrambled away, crab crawling backward till he could get enough traction to stand and flee.
She twisted to look back at Elossa. The elf hid a smirk behind a hand, her eyes wide as and shining as she looked at the soldier in the snow.
"Kay?" Amy asked, and was relieved to see the elven woman nod. But then her expression lost its joy and looked a little frightened.
Amy screeched as she found her waist caught up in an inescapable grip, her arms and legs hanging down as her waist was pinned to someone's side.
"Whoa, there little spit-fire." She relaxed the instant she heard Bull's voice. "Gonna have to keep an eye on you."
"Ha. Eye." She huffed. She eyed the broad stomach next to her, patting it as if to see if it were real. It was. At least as real as she could tell. "Buuuull." She whined. "Doooown."
"Not sure that's a safe bet yet. Especially if you're gonna be grappling with soldiers."
She whimpered. "Bull." She tried again. "Hurt."
He sighed, setting her on her feet grumbling 'alright, alright'. She put a hand against his side to steady herself. Maybe it was the blood flow… yeah. The blood was rushing to her head when he had her, and now it was all migrating to the right places. She shook her head.
"Thanks…Bull." She said, still hissing out the s in the thanks a little too much for her own approval. She just hoped she didn't sound like she was panting.
He had a hand against her lower back. "You're still not well." It wasn't so much a question. The Ben-hassarath had a damn good eye after all. She nodded. "So why are you picking fights with soldiers?"
"Not. Pick." Amy grunted. "Take." She did not pick fights. She simply practiced, went to the occasional sparing match, and took the fight to anyone that thought they could take from her or anyone she cared about.
"Are you alright?" This came from Elossa, who was hovering just out of the Iron Bull's reach, nervously wringing her hands.
Amy nodded. "Bull good." She was surprised to see Bull quirk a brow at that statement. She huddled against his side. "Bull waaaarm!" She felt Bull chuckle, felt one of those massive hands caress the back of her head.
"I am." He gloated. She didn't see him eyeing Elossa. "You could tuck in here if you wanted to, little lady." Elossa hovered for a moment longer, staring back at Bull like he was a demon straight from the fade. She looked to Amy who smiled. She gave a nervous little smile and pranced up to Bull's other side. He chuckled, deep and rolling, and Amy felt the need to nuzzle against his side.
"I suppose that's one way to get rid of a pestering soldier." Elossa said.
"Mh-hm."
"Where'd you learn that, anyway?" Elossa's question made her feel the cold that much more.
"Fahh." She grit her teeth. "Faahhh tha. Fahther. Father."
"Your father?" Amy nodded miserably, still humiliated at the ridiculous sounds she was making. She was shocked when she felt Elossa reach across and take her wrist. The elf placed her Amy's fingers against her lips. "Father." She said. "Father." She repeated, and nodded.
"Father." Amy said, blinking when it didn't slur out half so much.
"That's hot." Bull half grunted, and both women half jumped away from him. "Whoops. Blew it." He smirked.
Amy swatted at him and leaned back in. "What..?" Amy pointed to Elossa's hands and then to her lips.
"Oh, it's something we do to teach the littles how to speak properly…or, well, we did." She said, slowly drifting back against Bull as well. Bull looked entirely too smug, but honestly… Amy couldn't be bothered to care. As far as she was concerned, he deserved some smug. "If you're so ill, why are you out here?"
"Good question." Bull seconded.
Amy shrugged. "Tah.. Traah…" She wallowed hard. "Traaayen."
"Train?…Training?" Elossa said, before repeating the process of pressing Amy's fingers to her mouth and saying the worlds again.
"Training." Amy said.
"Training?" Bull repeated. "For what?"
"Stuh…Strahg."
"Strong?" Elossa, always helpful.
"Stronger." Amy clarified.
"But why?"
Amy looked up at Bull. "Father." She said. How best to get him to understand…what was it that they'd called Hawke? "An…an…" She tried to think about the word…what was it? "Basalit-an." He stared at her, almost solemn.
"One of these days, little spitfire, you're going to have to tell me how you know so much." He said, and she felt his gargantuan hand trail up her back, her neck, his fingers skimming her scalp as they formed into her hair. As power plays went, it was pretty docile. In fact, it felt kinda nice.
"Yeaaaaaaa." She murmured, closing her eyes and leaning back against his grip. She didn't see the tiny smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. "One…day."
"Compliance." Bull murmured, with a chuckle. "That's a refreshing find."
"Really, Chief?" The terse comment was not enough to pull Amy away from Bull, even if he had let her go. Though, Elossa was carefully keeping her hands to herself.
"What?" Bull asked, looking up but not quite letting go of Amy.
"Just had to deal with Lieutenant lion-heart. One of his soldiers scurrying ass over….he kept saying something about a girl and you, and…" Bull finally let go of Amy's skull and she blinked at the brightness, letting her eyes readjust before staring at the newest addition to their discussion. "What's going on?" Krem finished at last.
Amy drifted away from Bull and slowly circled Krem, eyeing him as if he were completely alien to her. The man watched her for a bit, then his eyes darted back to Bull with a 'is this safe' look before she circled him fully.
He nodded at her, looking utterly out of depth with whatever he should do or say. "Miss." He said with a nod.
Amy looked back at Bull and Elossa. She gestured to Krem and asked, "The fade?"
Bull blinked, but Elossa nodded. "He is very attractive." She said, which reset the tone entirely. Krem stood up straighter, his chest slightly more forward. Presenting, preening, nodding as though he couldn't agree more.
"Yeah, yeah. Yuk it up." Bull groused. "You're not as warm as I am."
"I cannot confirm or deny this…." Elossa said. "But it is awfully warm here… It's like the cold just stops here."
Amy giggled. "Bull. Wark." She felt her shoulders shaking uncontrollably. "Ha! Bulwark."
Bull was squinting at her, skeptical and appraising. "You feeling alright?"
"White." Amy said, staring around. "Ehhh." She swallowed. "Why ever…white." Why was everything so white?
"Maker's breath." That was a different voice. "Why is she out here?"
"Good. Gold." Amy said, turning towards the approaching wall of armor and Ferelden. "Cullen. Gold. Good."
Cullen drew closer, concern etched onto every feature. "She looks about ready to keel over."
"Wasn't a few minutes ago." Bull murmured. "Took out your guy over there with calculating efficiency, I might add."
Cullen's gaze snapped to Bull before coming back to Amy. "I heard something about that." He muttered before letting out a ragged breath. "She needs to get off the training field and back to the chantry. She looks like she may fall over at any moment. I will not be responsible for any harm she should come to here. A training yard is enough of a madhouse without an actual lunatic here."
Amy stared at the ground. It was so white. Everything was so white… it made things seem so sharp and edgy against the blur of snow.
She wondered if Cullen was right. If she was crazy. She didn't feel crazy. But crazy people didn't think they were crazy, did they? But she was wondering about it, considering it, weighting the options… Did that mean that she was or wasn't crazy? She was a little confused, not just on the crazy issue, but in general.
She felt a touch to her elbow, but didn't pay it any mind. There was a particular pattern in the snow that she couldn't quite make out. It was too far away, and the white-white-white snow was too blurry.
She took in a deep breath, her eyes widening as she looked up into Krem's face. She looked to Cullen and then to Bull and Elossa who were still huddled together.
"Cat?" She asked, wondering if that's what was imprinted in the snow.
…Well, that was just fantastic. Now they were really going to think she was crazy…. Maybe she was. Maybe it was maybelline. She chuckled at her own inner joke.
"Exactly my point." Cullen looked to Bull.
"Relax, Commander." Bull said, sounding both calming and somewhat derisive at the same time. "We'll make sure she gets back to the chantry."
Without any sense of time, Amy found herself being shepherded (Ha! Mass Effect Pun! Oh, no one would get those jokes now) back through Haven. She kept half wondering what happened to Elossa and whether she'd said goodbye or not.
"Don't coddle her, she's probably fine." Bull was saying.
"What the fuck happened to her?" She heard Krem asking. "It was like she shut down and then switched back on again right in front of us."
"Dunno. She's the one they found next to all that red lyrium crap. Solas 'theorizes' that it's the reason she's so weak and warped, but… he still isn't sure about much else."
…Red lyrium? Holy Christ on a Bike. Was that what was wrong with her? She felt so sick to her stomach just thinking about Bartrand, and Dragon Age 2, and oh my god, poor Varric. Oh, Buddah weeps at my misfortune.
"Hey now, easy there." Krem was saying, taking her arm in his. Such a gentlemen.
"Smooth. Krem." She said feeling like the tie to him was all that kept her from reeling out. It didn't make any sense. She'd felt mostly fine when she'd worked as a bouncer for Elossa. But now everything was starting to strain again. "Krem of….the crop."
"Ho!"
"Oh for the love of…" Krem muttered. "Don't give him ideas." He grunted.
"That's a good one!"
"Krem. Bull's best man." Amy said, half resting against Krem's arm.
"Not if he's stealing my red-head, he's not." Bull grumbled, albeit good-naturedly.
Amy tried to glare at Bull. "Not. Yours. Not. Belong." She grumbled. "Not eeeee. Ezzzz. Not Eaahzey." She ground her teeth together. "So. Bad."
"Ok, ok. I get it. You're not easy." Did Bull have her other arm? What was going on? What happened to her legs? Were they there?
"Legs?" she said.
"They appear to be tripping over themselves." Krem responded.
"Cats!" she spat.
"There aren't any cats here." Bull informed, bending down to pick her up. "And I get to carry you so Krem can be a gentlemen and open doors." Amy didn't bother fighting because she couldn't. Not that she'd actually want to fight Bull…even the thought of a simple sparing match scared the hell out of her. And not just because he'd kick her ass. "Easy there, little spit fire."
"Amy." Amy said, curling into Bull's chest and carefully notching her head beneath his chin.
"Amy? That your name?"
"My name." She said.
"Well, you just sleep some, Amy. We'll take care of you."
It had been the most eventful morning she could remember since waking up here… So, Amy did sleep, utterly heedless of the reproachful stares of the chantry sisters.
