I decide I ought go to Lanaya after I've visited the craftsman with everyone else. I blindly follow the others to the man at the Keeper and Sloane's behest, and now I'm wearing studded leather armor. I look... medieval now, I guess. Leliana cut my hair, it wasn't salvageable, but the pixi-bob she made it into is the shortest I've ever had it. And the sword I have strapped to my hip is awkward to have, but necessary. It has a rune in it to make it super light for speed, which is good since I have no muscle tone to speak of - even before the blood mages starved me and erased all marks from my skin to have a clean slate with which to inject their blood magic into. It's a bastard sword, I know at least that much from my weapons junkies dad and grandpa, and it's a split blade. A green blade. I'm a little afraid I'll hurt myself with it; it's also quite sharp.
The sword and armor are necessary now, because, well, I know how to use them. Just meeting one person changed me so much. Aereweld changed me. She's in my head now, but I'm not crazy. As funny as that sounds, her thoughts have granted me clarity. I can't think on it too much though, instead I'm focusing on the here and now, because if I dwell on it over much I may just have that psychotic break I had thought I was experiencing originally.
Shit. I'm thinking about it.
Will I ever find my way home? Aereweld didn't think it was possible. There's still a chance though, isn't there? No matter how slim. I'll never see my friends or family ever again then? I never even said goodbye. It's almost certain that I'll never see them though, right? I can't even fully grasp that, as I've been surrounded by those people practically every day of my life. I can only imagine what my sudden disappearance would've done to them. It would've been confusion at the doctor's office when I didn't show up for work, and the doctor or his wife would have likely called my emergency contact, my mom, when they couldn't get a hold of me. Then it would've gone down-hill from there, and I can only imagine the desperation and shock that those I see or talk to every day would have suffered when I suddenly was gone without any explanation or possible reason. How soon would they call the cops and report me missing? How long would it take them before they gave up on finding me? Never?
I'd go back if I could. In a heart-beat. This might be some amazing, reality-defying thing that happened to me despite the blood magic, but I miss home. The constant, electrifying sounds of darkspawn and Blight-tainted animals always in the distance, the fucking trees everywhere that are so different from the city I'm from, and the simple knowledge that this is a war and there are people dying practically every minute. I can't get the sound of bone crunching beneath steel out of my head, or the sight of so much blood and black ichor smeared on leather and fur.
I'm forced to live this now - this is my reality. As much as I wish for things to change, they won't. I have to abide by Aerweld's knowledge and wisdom if I'm to have a chance at survival. I have to accept this. I have to wear the armor all day, I have to strap the sword to my belt, and I have to have my hair cut for helmet-wear. Just with these simple things I'm so different. I'm not me anymore, am I?
"It is a shame I had to cut so much," Leliana comments while she combs my hair. She's trying to style it. I told her it doesn't matter, because it'll just turn into a wavy mess in a few hours.
"Yeah, but it was gross," I look at her over my shoulder and welcome the distraction from my solemn thoughts. "It's seriously just going to get frizzy in this wind. You don't have to mess with it."
Her hands pause and she sighs while she removes the comb, "I had overheard what had happened to you," she confesses quietly. "The tent you were in was large – but it was still canvas. I would not be surprised if near half the camp knew of your... predicament."
"Awesome," I sigh in irritation. The last thing I need is a bunch of people looking at me strangely and pitying me over something that cannot be undone or changed. I don't want that kind of attention on me. I take a breath and squeeze my eyes shut to calm myself. I'm not close enough to Leliana to be bitchy with her. She wouldn't understand that I don't mean any of it – that I just need to vent.
"Just... know," she continues hesitantly, "that I am still sworn as a member of the Chantry, and can hold all you say in the highest confidence if you need someone to speak with."
"I'm going to talk to Lanaya," I say as I stand up abruptly, and when I do I realize that must've looked and sounded bad. "I mean, she just gave me all this stuff, and she... I'm, sorry," I fumble. "I'm a mess right now. Thanks for help with my hair. Maybe... maybe I'll talk to you later." I shift my weight uncomfortably, "You... remind me of one of my sisters," I confess in an awkward attempt to compliment the woman and soothe any feelings I may have hurt with my carelessness.
"Oh?" She raises a brow, "And how many sisters do you have?"
"Two," dammit. And now I'm thinking about them. I'm not going to cry again. "You remind me of the youngest one. She would cut my hair for me too."
"Ah," she smiles sadly. "Go and speak with the Keeper then. I will chat with you later."
"Thanks," I say quickly, before I hurry off from where we were sitting on a log on the outside of the camp.
"Falon," Lanaya greets me with a bob of her head once I find her inside the Dalish's camp. The elves that were infected with the lycanthropy still aren't feeling the best, and Lanaya is making potions with a few other elves to speed their healing. "You look well. How are you feeling?"
"Okay, I guess." I pause a moment before continuing, "I wanted to say thanks for... for everything. Aereweld, and everything."
"You are welcome," she bows her head. "Take all that you've learned from her to heart – it's a wonderful gift she's given you."
"Yeah," I agree and reach out to shake her hand in thanks, but she doesn't take my hand in turn. Dalish don't shake hands. I'm an idiot. I think I've offended her, and struggle to explain my actions even though I knew better. "It's just... Aereweld. I... I don't know how to explain this right." Without completely embarrassing the shit out of myself, I add silently in my head. I had known Aereweld for such a short period of time, but I know her better than I know most people. Lanaya helped set her free. It's almost too difficult to put into words just how important that is. "Ma serannas, Keeper. Emma sulahn'nehn. Enansal'nan." The shock of a human speaking elvish has passed on Lanaya, but the other elves around her look at me like I've sprouted wings. I try to ignore them the best I can when Lanaya speaks.
"Suledin, falon," she smiles and looks up to me from where she's sitting with a mortar and pestle in her hands. "Did Aereweld gift you the knowledge of Uthenera?" I nod. "Perhaps you would like to say it for her."
"I think I will," I smile a watery smile. "Good luck with... everything."
"Ma serannas. May the Creators guide you."
"Karie?" Sloane calls from behind me, and I turn to see him wearing dark, and hard looking leather armor. His leather cap has been replaced by an open faced helmet with hanging sides too. "We're all set to go."
I give Lanaya a quick wave goodbye, and Sloane thanks her again, before I turn to follow Sloane to the cart. Somehow the Dalish even found something for Sten to wear – it looks more like a barely held together padded vest, but at least he has more protection than he had. Everyone else has at least one thing new or repaired – Randall even has a collar now.
"Where are we going next lady seer?" Alistair asks while he puts an overstuffed pack into the cart.
"She's not really a seer," Sloane rolls his eyes. Everyone rolls their eyes at Alistair it looks like. "I thought I'd explained that to you all."
"She still knows how to end the Blight," the other Warden points out – literally with his finger wagging at Sloane. "Knowing the future still makes her a seer in my book."
"But she's not a mage," Sloane groans. "We have more important things to concern ourselves with then our companion here. Sorry, but it's true," he tugs at his packed belt. "We need to decide whether we'll go after one of the remaining treaties, or seek the men at Redcliffe."
"There's a civil war about to start in Orzammar because the king died, but I think he was murdered," I start listing off what I know and can remember as I'm trying to be helpful and distract myself all the same. "Blood mages are planning a coup at the Circle and 'll summon demons. And the village at Redcliffe is being overrun with walking skeletons. They're killing the villagers." I take a breath, "Arl Eamon is unconscious because he was poisoned by a blood mage hired by Loghain too." I scrunch my nose by the end of it. All the options suck.
"Arl Eamon was poisoned." Alistair looks pale. Oh... should I have just blurted all that like that?
"Why should we concern ourselves over one irrelevant nobleman when the Chantry's precious Circle is threatened? That sounds almost too good to be true, I dare say," Morrigan smiles a cruel looking smile. "I for one vote that we seek the treaty at the Circle next."
"How could you say such a thing?" Alistair quickly turns red in anger while facing Morrigan, "You don't know the Arl! He's a good man!"
"Calm down – all of you shems!" Sloane shouts. "You all made me leader, so let me think!" He runs a hand over his face and takes a deep breath while he visibly calms himself down. He is a very leader-y person, I think to myself. It's impressive how's he's adapted to this role given how he lived before. "If there are villagers dying at Redcliffe right now, then I think we should go there – quickly – and save as many people as we can."
"They are," I nod. "When we get there, they'll already be at their last leg."
"Why didn't you say something sooner then?!" Alistair growls at me... and I'd be lying if I didn't say it wasn't scary. His face is red and he looks so, so upset. He's pretty big too. Like quarterback sized. Have I mentioned how much I really don't like it when someone yells at me like this? It's even worse when it's a tall person doing the angry yelling.
I cower a little when I reply but hold my ground all the same, "I – the Dalish were dying too. Everyone's dying here. We can't – there's a Blight..."
"It's not her fault they're in danger," Sloane raps Alistair on the shoulder as if to physically keep him in check. "She's right though – everyone is dying. And we can't save everyone, but we can try to save as many as we can." He glares a little at Alistair until he looks away ashamed, and then looks to the rest of us. "Off to Redcliffe then."
A/N: Soooo sorry this chapter is a day late! I had to completely re-write the beginning because I didn't like it -and- I've digitally painted Aereweld! Her portrait is up on my deviantart account, musicalrain0, and there's a link to my deviantart account on my profile here. You'll still get two more chapters later this week though readers! :D
Translations:
Ma serannas - 'my thanks'
Emma sulahn'nehn - 'I am singing with joy' or 'I am rejoicing'. A Dalish expression for extreme joyfulness.
Enansal'nan - 'Blessing vengeance'. A Dalish expression honoring the God of Vengeance and the All-Father, Elgar'nan.
Uthenera - the Dalish euolgy.
Suledin - 'endure; strength to withstand loss'. In this context, a Dalish wish for luck or blessing for prosperity.
Extra note: I've made up several of these expressions. i.e. they're not strictly canon.
