Abandoned Sanctuary
Chapter: Pathways
You cannot travel the path until you have become the path itself
~Budda
"Aslinn, can you answer a question for me?"
The feline rogue looked up from the leather armor she was repairing. "Aye,"
"Your accent," Leliana moved closer to her fellow rogue. "It's very similar to a country called Starhaven but I haven't heard many elves have it. Do all the in your homeland speak like you or just your race?"
The shorter rogue shook her head, "They have many different accents depending on which region they come from. I guess I sound more like Tressia, she had a thicker accent than me ."
"Was that your mother's name?" the bard had lowered her voice.
Aslinn stared at her fellow rogue debated whether she should open up. "She was the woman who helped raise me. I never know my mother," she said quietly.
"I thought you said you were a merchant's daughter?"
"Someone was paying attention to my mumblings. Tressia and Ardan been both raised me as their own when my mother died bring me in this here world, even though they were human and I a Miqo'te. Tressia was my mother's," the younger woman's eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "Damn what's the word for it in common." Aslinn was mumbling more to herself than talking to Leliana. "Bean ghlúine*, how do you say healer to mothers in common?"
"Healer to mothers?" The bard's face light up. "You mean a midwife."
"Thats it! Tressia was my mother's midwife and Ardan was her husband and a leather merchant. He's the reason I say I'm a merchant's daughter. He taught me his trade, I think he was of the Highland tribe. He's built like Sten, tall never said anything unless it was important." Aslinn's face became a blank mask, she was trying to remember exacted how her adopted parents looked and sounded but fifteen years were a long time and the memory had begun to become faded with time. "I haven't thought of 'em in long time, I don't remember much."
"My mother died when I was very young as well. I don't remember what she looked like now but I remember the smell of these flowers she would but in her clothes. Laurena found some for me while we were in RedCliffe." The older woman but a hand on Aslinn's shoulder. "Do you have something of theirs as a token?"
"Songs Tressia used to sing on the trail or playing on the fiddle and what Ardan taught me about leather." Speaking of her long since dead adopted parents made her homesick then a wave sadness hit her when she realized that she could never go back there…ever.
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Zevran had watched Leliana walk over to where Aslinn was sitting repairing some armor, he had been surprised to see her actually repairing the armor instead of just replacing it like any other rogue would do. Repairs look time and skill, both something most people did not have. He turned his attention back the two Wardens in front of him.
"And why do we need to say this? Explain it to me again." Alistair said looking at the assassin wearily. "It's not going to set off a trap will it?"
"You know what they say…life is full of surprises, yes?" the blond elf tried to get a rise out of the male Warden.
"See?" He said turning to his fellow Warden. "That evil sneaky assassin is trying to kill us again using ...sneakiness!"
"No he's not. Zevran stop provoking him, I'm trying to figure this out." Laurena sat cross legged in front of the fireplace (which currently was one of only sources of light in the quickly darkening Peak) with four pieces of paper scattered around her. "Speak your Oath to me...it says." The noble looked over at the former Crow, he was watching her while he leaning casually against the wall. "We need to discuss some Warden business in private Zevran, do you mind?" she said pointing to where the others were situated.
"Not at all, my Warden," the elf made his way over to Wynne and Laurena heard him say something about magical bosoms. She shook her head and would not be surprised if the elder mage decided to turn the elf into a frog and serve him as dinner.
"So did you really want to talk about Warden Stuff or was that an excuse to get him to go away," he smiled at her with a lopsided grin.
"Hmm, a bit of both," the noble woman said given him a peck on the cheek before turning back to the papers in front of her. "These mention an oath needing to be spoken."
"I can think of two, the one we say before each Joining, you remember that one?" Alistair sat closer to her, looking over at the seemingly innocent journal entries. She shuddered and he knew it wasn't because of his closeness, though a part of him he had hoped he caused her to shudder, or the cool night air.
"I'm still trying to forget that one." Laurena said shaking her head to get rid of the image of Duncan killing Ser Jory and Daveth choking on the darkspawn blood. She felt Alistair rubbing her arms gently and she was glad they had changed out of their armor so she could actually feel the motion instead of being encased in armor and more or less hearing awful noise of metal scraping alongside metal.
"Join us brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you." Alistair looked around. "Nothing happened."
"What was the other one?" She turned around and couldn't help but find the way his eyebrow furred together when he was confused or trying to concentrate endearingly cute to the point she had to cover up a giggle with a clearing of her throat.
"The other one...oh it's the Grey Warden motto."
"Do you know it?" she asked after a thick pause.
"Nooo," he stated plainly.
Laurena sighed. "Motto…motto," she said thinking out loud when a thought struck her…no it could be that simple. She reached up to take off the necklace she had been given after the Joining. "I remember seeing writing on the back of here," the noblewoman explained when Alistair gave her an odd look. She flipped over the pendent that held the blood that was given during the ceremony and clear as day it had an inscription on the back.
In war, victory.
In peace, vigilance.
In death, sacrifice.
When the Warden repeated the words there was a loud click that had Alistair unsheathing his sword. A chest popped out from an alcove to the right of the Wardens. Laurena walked over. Alistair gave her a look that said, be careful. The dark haired woman paused thinking better of it and called over to Leliana to come check for traps.
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"Here you are, my dear," the blond assassin said handing Aslinn a bowl of bean soup and she gave the bowl a weary look. "Wynne cooked so no need to fear having to choke it down."
She took the bowl and muttered a soft, "Thanks," before beginning to consume the bowl's contents. Zevran, being the ever observant person that he was, noticed Aslinn's sudden change in behavior. The feline was quiet and still, which was and unusual mannerism for her. She would normally be loud, playful and very active, usually stirring up some sort of trouble within the camp's confines. He typically played a big part in the trouble she stirred up, but that was beside the point.
"Zevs," Aslinn said in that submissive tone he was beginning to greatly dislike.
"Yes my delectable kitten." The blond elf said leaning forward and giving her his best, come hither look.
"Tell me about about your homeland," she said not even looking up at his face, which made her to miss his teasing look.
"Oh? You wish to know about Antiva, do you?" Zevran kept his voice light and she finally meet his gaze. "The only way to truly appreciate it would be to go there."
Aslinn's lips twitched slightly, a small victory for Zevran. "Try me," she challenged.
"Well its warm there, not cold and harsh like this Ferelden," he motioned to her and the fact that she had still had her cloak on and was wrapped in a blanket.
"If I don't see another snowflake for the rest of my life it would be too soon," the feline scoffed.
"I see you are agreement then." Zevran chuckled. "Ah let's see, In Antiva it rains often but the flowers are always in bloom…or so the saying goes." He was glad to see the light back in her eye. Not that he cared about her in general, he told himself, It'sjust that sulking did not suit such a pretty face. "I hail from the glorious Antiva City, home of the royal place." Zevran puffed out his chest in pride. "It's a glittering gem amidst the sand my Antiva City. Come, tell me about your homeland, you change the subject each time someone asks and you have me intrigued."
"I have many memories there I'm tryin to forget," Aslinn said ears dropping down.
"We all have things we regret, kitten, but that is for another time. For now we shall speak of the place we come from yes?"
She smiled at that. "I don't be know where to begin."
"At the beginning of course!" His ridicules statement caused her to laugh out loud.
"Gridina is a city amongst trees," she chewed on her bottom lip for an instant before continuing "I wouldn't call it my hometown per say but it's as close as I ever had I guess. It's warm, like your Antiva City, the heat wraps around you like warm blanket. The city itself is woven among the trees and some places actually within the larger ones."
"Within, you mean there are trees large enough to hold homes?" Zevran's mother may have been Dalish but it still was hard for him to picture trees so large. "Did you have such things as blacksmith? Surely they do not have their shops among the trees, yes?"
"By the twelve, no!" The feline looked horrified at the very idea. "The shops are carved out of rock in the far end town away from the trees."
"You have magic in your country yes? Given that you have several enchanted items, and you're sudden dropping of your jaw I will assume yes." The feline rogue had indeed dropped her jaw and stared at him with a mildly shocked expression. "I am curious is there a Circle like here in Ferelden?"
She shook her head violently. "There are guilds for each type magic but not like here," she glanced over Zevran's shoulder at what he assumed was the Templar-turned-Warden. "Things are a lot stricter here."
There was that tone again, he really didn't like it. Zevran had deduced that she didn't like talking about magic, for one reason or another, and speaking about it had undone all his previous efforts. Which really ticked him off, he would have to find a way to quickly cheer her up. "They have a Circle in Antiva and I've heard some rumors about some of the practices here. I was curious if they had such practices where you hail from." The elf laced his gloved fingers together and peered over them at her.
Her ears swerved forward giving the assassin her full attention, she was curious but at the same time cautious. She didn't want to hear about another "practice" if it was anything like the practice she had seen demonstrated earlier with Avernus. His death still nagged her, not so much because he died, but that he was killed for using magic. She kept her voice calm. "What kind of practices?"
"Orgies on top of the Circle Tower on moonlight nights."
Her hand flew to her mouth in order to keep a giggle from coming out but Zevran's faux serious expression was her undoing.
She laughed.
She laughed so hard she had rolled on the floor gripped her sides. When her fits of giggles subsided Zevran told her how he found out it was disappointingly only a rumor in Antiva. He had still been hopeful that it would be true in here in Ferelden and planned on asking Wynne about it.
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"Do you know what is most odd?" Zevran asked the woman lounging comfortable on her back seated on her bedroll across from him.
"What's that?" The feline yawned. It was well into the night, the two of them had been conversing for several hours lounging comfortably atop their bedrolls, while the rest of the members of their group had gone to bed. Leliana joined them briefly before retiring to own bedroll, not far away.
"We speak of my homeland and for all its wine and its dark-haired beauties and the lillo flutes of the minstrels…I miss the leather the most."
"Leather?" Aslinn rolled over to her side, facing him. "This I have to hear."
Zevran chuckled at her implications. "I mean the smell. For years I lived in a tiny apartment near Antiva City's leather making district, in a building where the Crows stored their youngest recruits, packed in like crates. I grew accustomed to the stench, even though the humans complained of it constantly. To this day the smell of leather is what reminds me most of home more than anything else."
" I know exactly what you're speaking of. The couple who raised me from a welp, one had been a leather merchant, he taught me how. I can make you something if you want." Her face softened, and some of the masks she put up were brought down for the briefest of moments.
"See not so different, you and I. Why is it we have not made love as of yet?"
"Snow for one thing!" She shoved playfully at his shoulder when he had moved closer to her, her masks back in place. "Been away long?"
Zevran turned to lay on his stomach, pillowing his head on his arms. "From Antiva? No, not so long. It is my first time away from Antiva, however, and the thought of never returning makes me think of it constantly."
Aslinn moved to lay on her stomach as well. "Your home still there, Zevs and least you can return to it."
"Not with without confronting a whole house of Crows. It is true, I can return and it is comforting thought. Not unlike yourself yes?"
She snorted. "I'm exiled, I can't go back."
"Exiled? What did you do, sleep with the wrong noble?" His tone was light and he meant it as a joke.
"Something, like that." Aslinn said turning away from him with a sour look on her face.
"Such a face does not suit you, my dear kitten," his voice was close to her ear that it nearly made her jump…nearly. "I have somehow offended you, my friend," she turned around to face him, he was within arm's reach. "Let me make it up to you yes?"
"Bed warming seems like a suitable punishment."
Zevran bent over to kiss her but she ducked her head and he got a mouthful of hair. He looked down at her confused.
"What? I told you're good for warming me, your body heat is doing that."
"You thought…you took it literally," he couldn't help himself and laughed at her.
"What! Why are you laughing?" She threw a pillow at him in frustration when he did nothing but laugh louder.
A/N
* Gaelic Translation: Midwife