He would, even years after this when everything was mostly forgiven, think he was not entirely in the wrong. He would never ever, emphasis on never, say that out loud.
She had come out of nowhere; there was a red light before his parked car!, he should have been looking, but biker's needed to follow the rules of the road as well! Why wasn't she following proper biking safety? She had no helmet. She had headphones on that were blaring. She was smoking a cigarette while riding a bike, with one hand on the handlebars! Her cigarette wasn't even just a cigarette; he had definitely smelled what she mixed in. It was not entirely his fault she even admitted it!
When she slammed into his door he immediately held her up and off the bike. He felt a rush of panic and guilt, but years of being in life and death situations kept him calm. His daughter was asleep in the backseat, and somehow stayed that way. The girl really could sleep through anything. He asked the young, and now he could see elven woman if she was OK, but the shock had stunned her for a second. He looked her over, she had some cuts on her face, and her body would definitely be bruised up, but she was standing fine now. He was going to bring her to the hospital; she would need to be checked out. He was just thinking of how he was going to apologize and obviously fit the hospital bill and the cost of fixing her bike, when he realized he recognized her.
Her face was so familiar, even if the pink hair was not, and he was trying to place it when she came out of her shock like water on a hot pan. She pushed him away and started laying into him with barrage of insults and curses. She was somewhat right, but she certainly didn't need to speak that way and she was in the wrong too. He tried explaining to her how she was also at fault, and to keep her language clean for his child's sake. He noticed her leather jacket, septum piercing, and those two things with the pink hair led him to believe she was just another hipster who thought they could bike like a lunatic and then blame cars for accidents. She probably doesn't wear a helmet to because, Maker forbid, you not look stylish when traveling with high speed cars.
The woman really didn't like his comment about the bad language, and she reacted by angrily throwing her cigarette on the ground to stomp on. He should have let it go and not said anything, it was pure reaction and he didn't even recognize himself reprimanding her for it. When had he turned into…that guy.
He tried to get a word in after that to apologize, but she started to just sprint away from him. Where the hell is she going? Is she on drugs? I thought I smelled something on that cigarette… It dawned on him then, as she ran away without a glance back, that Maker's Breathe, that was Afie Surana.
Afie Surana.
Afie FUCKING Surana.
He had just hit Afie Surana, with his car, or she hit his car with her bike…it didn't fucking matter it was Afie Surana! It all came back to him then, his years at Kinlock School. Afie was…she was a big deal back then and from what he heard she still was in Val Royeaux. She was the Captain and President of too many sports and clubs. She practically ran the library and could silence any giggling underclassmen with one glance. She was in the top five of her graduating class. She was on the Royal Court during the Spring Gala for each year she was in school. She won Most Likely to Succeed and the unofficial superlative, because it was an Andrastian school, of Desert Island Dream Date. She was a year below him, but he still knew all that about her…because he had possessed the biggest most obvious crush on her from the moment she offered him her piece of lasagna after getting the last one. The memory started to come back to him.
They're both in line in the cafeteria and it's his second week at Kinlock, the day wasn't going so well. He transferred there for an extra year of preparatory school as part of a scholarship program for rural Ferelden kids. He's glad for the opportunity, but as one could imagine, it's hard to start at an elite school so late when most of the other students have been attending since age ten. He's way behind academically, and socially isn't faring much better.
He's actually feeling a little bit happier that day because lasagna is on menu. He loves lasagna; it's a staple of his family's dinners back home. He needs the comfort of obscene amounts of cheese and ground meat.
He senses the universe wants him to be unhappy when the lunch worker announces that they are all out for the day. He's the only person left in line. He can't help it; he actually bows his head in misery. That's when he feels the tap on his shoulder. He looks up to see a girl wearing a high bun and tartan headband that matches the school uniform skirt. She has a restless but not unkind look on her face. He doesn't notice she is elven first, that is maybe the fourth thing, he first notices the lasagna she's holding up.
"Hey," she says plainly when he looks at her. He again notices the lasagna and with the day he's having, half expects her to throw it at his face.
"Would you want to take this off my hands? I shouldn't be eating it really. I just have to fit into my dress for the royal court." She speaks with an obviously fake dramatic whine in her voice. She twirls her fingers in the air during the last part.
"I can't…" he begins to stutter out, but she places it on his plate anyway.
She raises her eyebrows at him, with eyes full of pity and amusement. "You're new right? Trust me new kid, here at Kinlock, accept non-self-serving gifts of kindness when given. For scholarship kids like us, they are few and far between."
She smiles slightly and turns around to start walking back towards a table of friends. He cringes remembering this part.
"My name's Cullen," he practically yells at her after she's almost ten feet away. He had really tried to say that when she was still standing next to him.
"Woah," she says, accompanied by a chuckle and her hands put up in mock defense. "No need to yell. It's nice to meet you, Cullen. I'm Afie. Enjoy that lasagna."
And on this day, he had almost killed his lasagna savior.
By the time he realized it was her it was too late. She had left the bike on the side of the damned road and was about to enter the subway opening.
He started to yell her name, "Afie! Afie!"
This was ridiculous after remembering their first meeting, again he had the delayed response with her!
She didn't even turn around, was it really her? What in the hell was Afie Surana doing in Kirkwall? Wasn't she marrying an Orlesian politician? And how with all of the cars in this damn city did she manage to hit or get hit by his?
"Daddy, what's wrong? Is the lady Ok?"
His attention came back to the present. Violet had woken up, and for what part he didn't know. He hoped she hadn't seen him yelling. It was not a good example to set and he regretted his outburst now. Afie, or whoever it was, was in shock and pain when she spoke while he had no such excuse. He was having a stressful day, but it seemed everyone was these days.
He got back into the car and put on his seatbelt. "I think so honey, but we will find out, OK?"
"She seemed mad and you were mad. She was mean, but you were mean."
"Yes, I was," he said, turning his head towards her in the backseat. "I will apologize to her that's not how we should talk to people."
"She did swear though, and she was smoking, isn't smoking bad?"
"She did swear, but she was scared. And yes, smoking is bad for you, but it does not make you a bad person to smoke. I am sure she's a good person."
Was he sure? He hadn't seen Afie since Kinlock. He had no idea what she was like, but apparently she now was into unnatural hair color and facial piercings. And recreational drug use. That said nothing about her moral character, but it was not the Afie Suruna he remembered.
He got back in the car and knew the best thing to do would be to visit nearby hospitals. He might have called the police station before, but in his new profession, knew many people did not want the police in their affairs and often with legitimate cause. He not only had to apologize, but take of her of any expenses. He would have never thought Afie for someone who would ride a bike with no regard to traffic laws. She had been a Prefect, and from what he remembered, one of the stricter ones. Now she was smoking spliffs while biking through traffic in Kirkwall?
He threw her bike into the backseat of his min-can. He had no idea whether it could be salvaged, but from how she almost cried over it he figured it at least had sentimental value.
Afie Surana, it had to be her, and Andraste's fucking ass, he almost killed her.
One day all bicyclists, car drivers, and even pedestrians will be at peace with one another. Because infrastructure for bikes and walking will have improved in most major cities, maybe.
