AN: A shoutout to all those that have faved and followed! An even louder one to all those that suffered to comment. It is the lifeblood of my enthusiasm, knowing that others care to take an interest in how I see things.
Legends of the Sky Chapter 6
Blind Sight
Legends of the Sky is a Mass Effect and Dragon Age Fanfiction Crossover by Eisen. Mass Effect and Dragon Age belong to Bioware.
"Maferoth's Molars, Hawke. I swear I'm beginning to see the outline of your footprint getting indented on that door."
Hawke managed to pull off a laugh so classically evil that Shepard had to wonder where she had managed to pick it up. She doubted her...acquaintance would understand the reference to classic movie villains. Then again, if there were dwarves there might be vampires as well, accompanied by Frankenstein's monster and all. Perhaps an Igor or two.
"All is going according to plan! Soon, the entire city's entrances will be branded by my heel!"
Varric just sighed and covered his eyes with a gloved hand at her response to his comment. Shepard for her part had picked up that there was more to the dwarf and Hawke's relationship than they were portraying. Varric's complaints and arguments were mostly feigned, intended more for entertainment than any true malcontent.
A pang of jealousy mixed with homesickness hit her. Come on Shepard, stop mooning like some hormonal teenager. You've survived the majority of your life on your own, this should be old hat.
If only it were as simple as that. Press a button and revert emotional requirements back to state saved on 08-03-2183 and carry on as if nothing was wrong. Instead, she had been reduced to a cripple. She had been as one blind from birth - ignorant of the beauty that was absent in her life, incapable of missing it. But her eyes had been opened and she felt the yawning loss keenly.
Theirs had never been a fair lot in life, to first only realise what they had in each other towards their promised end. The desperation to make that short time count had flared powerfully, only to leave them almost lost when the end did not come. Then, as if Fate itself was conspiring against them, the galaxy tore them apart again, thinly veiled under a veneer of duty. It was almost laughable how it was that they were flung together again, once more with the promise of death at their heels. Death that had caught up to her. Death that she had embraced. A respite that had once more been stolen away from her. What must Garrus think? The errant thought interrupted her fatalistic musings.
How would his turian-trained mind see things? Which thoughts would his 'bad turian' nature reject...which would they keep? She had come to rely on his outlook, using it as a crutch and bulwark against the depression that would loom every time the state of affairs became apparent. His view of just how grim things were, but then the almost casual denial to allow those same views to influence his principles.
She wondered where Garrus was. If he was...had he survived his wounds? Had he been spared whatever the Crucible had done? Had that been mere hours ago? Or years? How far apart were they? Was he unconscious or sleeping? Was he thinking of her, mere hours after the Crucible had fired? Or had decades already turned her to a passing memory, or centuries his remains to dust? Was he was already waiting for her at that bar?
"-me? Shep! Helooo?"
The Spectre came back to herself as she realised that Hawke was waving at her and making faces. She blinked several times.
"Uh, oh, yes? What?"
"Andraste's ass, Red, you space out worse than Daisy," Varric chuckled. "Get your bearings quickly; Aveline sets a lunatic's pace when something's ruffled her feathers and I don't want to leave her alone with the giant ox men for any time at all if it can be helped. There are only two things so much stubborn can lead to if confined to one place."
"Yeah, sorry about that. I was just...reminded of someone." Hawke raised a brow at that, but did not probe. "And do you have to use that ridiculously cliché name? I'll have you know that only two people have dared to call me anything but 'Shepard' throughout my entire adult life."
"Well, I guess you could bump that up to three then," Varric stated, smirking. "Out of curiosity, what were you called those two times?"
"Well…'Shep' and then one particular jarhead decided I was a 'Lola'."
"Hmm, I think I can see why," the dwarf replied, sounding thoughtful.
"Don't," Shepard warned, "even think about it. You don't have half the required ethnicity."
"You're no fun."
"You haven't used some strange nickname on Hawke."
"Ah, but you see, Hawke is Hawke. The person and the name are synonymous."
Shepard smiled, "Well then, you've made my argument for me."
"How so?"
"I would need to explain a crapload of cultural and historical references before any of it made sense…"
"Oh no you don't!" Hawke cut in, "I may not give a damn about what Varric calls who, but you're not getting out of that one."
"Can we at the very least put it on hold for now?" Shepard tried to reason, "Unless our destination is hours away, I can't see us having enough time for me to do an explanation justice."
"You're really good at trying to get out of something you don't want to do, aren't you Red?" Varric laughed.
"Stop...calling...me...that," the Spectre demanded through clenched teeth, secretly enjoying herself.
Hawke laughed, "Yes Half-pint, stop calling Red that."
-III-
Shepard could not be entirely sure, but it seemed like the stench was getting even worse, a clear indicator that they were getting closer to the city's harbour, where, Varric had explained, the Qunari compound was located.
The heavy humidity of the lower city, coupled with what was no doubt the final outlet for any functioning sewage systems, lent even more flavour to the air. It reminded the N7 a great deal of Omega, Tortuga of the stars. The only place on that station was lacking a stench that could only be attributed to a communal cesspool of dozens of species' filthiest examples, was Afterlife. Shepard was sure Aria had invested in state-of-the-art air recyclers and perhaps even discreet decontamination fields at the entrances. The asari may have been a ruthless bitch, but even she had standards; or perhaps, she in particular had standards.
I only take the best; you're it.
The Commander was curious about these Qunari. Varric had described them as a race, that while not possessing any true bovine relations, were most easily described as 'ox men'. Most towered over the average human at about nine to ten feet and sported an impressive set of horns. Of course, for a humanoid body to support a pair of horns, quite a few other physical attributes would have needed to adjust. The Qunari were extremely muscular by nature, in addition to a thicker bone density, to endure the practical application of the protrusions. Another curious outlying attribute was a resistance to most naturally occurring poisons and venoms, their skin hardening into a leather-like state if any toxic substances came in contact with them externally.
At least, that was what Shepard had interpreted from the expletive rich descriptions of battles with Tal-Vashoth Hawke gave. Varric occasionally stepped in to correct her, although Shepard wondered whether he was not simply embellishing the dark woman's already far-fetched tales.
"Varric, you did not pin three grey bastards together. Bianca's quarrels aren't even long enough to pin two together," Hawke denied after the dwarf had attempted to add to another of her retellings.
"Are you questioning Bianca's ability, or my honesty?"
"How are those even mutually exclusive?"
"You risk her ire, Hawke. It's a thin line between friend and foe."
"No it's not, you bare-chinned...face! There is a massive stretch of acquaintance between the two."
"Speaking of foes. Where do these Qunari stand in regards to, well you, and by extension, me?" Shepard interrupted, looking at Hawke questioningly, since Varric was too busy trying not to laugh at Hawke's attempted jibe.
"They stand at 'no, with a chance of pashera'."
"What Hawke is trying to say is that the Qunari seem to tolerate us slightly more than anyone else. Their philosophy really doesn't allow for much interacting with us bas."
"Bas?" Shepard asked, a brow slowly rising. Her experiences had taught her that Ideologists were always a pain to deal with. Like almost every bastard out there, they were predictable; the only problem was when it came to trying to understand what pattern would need to be used to do the predicting.
"The Qunari make labeling difficult as fuck for everyone who's not them. Non-cow Qunari are Viddethari, yet still Qunari, somehow. The cows were descendants of the kossith but they really don't like to be addressed as such. Those that leave the Qun are Tal-Vashoth and the cow-men that were born and raised outside the Qun are Vashoth. Otherwise, everything is bas. Or if you're special and good looking, bas-saarebas."
"They name people by their role, opposed to a...what did that one call it? 'Meaningless string of syllables'," Varric added.
Shepard grinned. "You seem awfully eager to impart all this information."
"Yeah well, the first time I went into that place I had to stop myself from running around screaming 'What the fuck?' At the top of my lungs while setting everything in sight alight," Hawke explained, not betraying a hint of the smile Shepard was expecting to see accompanying a statement like that.
Varric gave an understanding and confirming nod.
"I...see. That may have complicated matters. Back home we'd have called it a 'diplomatic incident'."
Varric barked a laugh, "Incident indeed. I like it!"
They reached the bottom of another flight of stairs when Aveline hailed them, standing near what was Shepard's first example of a Qunari. The large, grey-skinned, horned man standing in front of a rough iron gate with his arms crossed over his bare chest, which was marked with startling red paint. He looked to be frowning at Aveline, but Shepard wondered if that was not simply his natural expression.
"Finally Hawke," the armoured woman sighed; it seemed she was equally relieved and annoyed; something Shepard could understand after having dealt with her two companions for a few hours. Oddly enough, Aveline reminded her of Ashley, when the marine had spoken of her younger sisters. Aveline was sisterly, but in the same you're-annoying-but-will-deck-anyone-who-messes-with-you kind of way that Ash had been. Minus a whole bunch of insecurity. Aveline did not seem like a woman who doubted herself.
"Aveline! Care to share why you wanted us to come?"
"I asked for you, but I suppose the dwarf and your new friend can come along." Aveline folded her arms and eyed Shepard's armour warily. "Just...please be careful. The situation's delicate."
"Good, good. Think the Arishok will have tea and crumpets waiting for us?" Hawke asked conversationally as she approached the Qunari standing in front of the gate, seemingly oblivious at how the giant's expression came ever closer to a point where his brow resembled something used beat an anvil into shape, rather than to convey expressions.