Slight trigger Warning of the implied non-consent variety toward the end.
The apothecary was not located in Hightown, or Lowtown, or even in Darktown. It was located between Lowtown and Darktown through an alley way you could only access from a staircase down from Hightown. To any casual observer it was just another potentially dead end alley but once you slipped in, it opened up into a small street between the back of the staircase and the tops of the buildings of Darktown. It was an entire small line of homes built into the cliff and yet over Darktown and below Hightown. Yet technically it was not a part of Lowtown. It was hidden from view.
Lena slipped after Denier who ducked into a small shanty shack that appeared bigger than it looked on the outside. The inside was lined in shelves and racks of all manner of herbs, spices, and animals skins. There was a sparkling purple fire at a makeshift hearth with a pot held up by what looked like blackened femur bones.
There was a swirling mixture of scents making the air heady and thick with oils and moisture. It made her eyes reddened and watered and her rethinking her plan to create scented soaps, especially as she was dimly aware she'd have to hang her peppermint leaves to dry if she wanted any hope of extracting oils.
There were a few darkened stone tables covered with straw mats and yet on only one lay a seemingly normal woman with a large puff of fuzz for hair that curled and kinked in waves and coils. She sat up and turned to them, her gold and blue ringed eyes were sharp and mismatched. As she stood, the words tall, dark and handsome were the only other descriptors Lena could think. And while typically reserved for men, they fit this woman for she was was every one of those words as she stood and towered over them and peering down as she crossed her arms, assessing them.
Lena's mouth went dry and watered at the same time.
"My my…" Her hoarse voice was tinged with age. Smooth skin crinkled and wrinkled as crow's feet lined the corners of her eyes and lips stretched wide. When she had no emotion the woman was smooth as undisturbed water but once lively her age showed greatly. Yet rather than detract from her allure, she was ever more appealing.
"You're… gorgeous." Lena managed to utter.
Denier snorted but the woman tossed her mane of wily hair back and cackled in large heaving breaths and guffaws. She calmed as her hand covered her mouth, hips propped against the stone table as she slouched and pinned Lena with her undivided attention.
"Oh Tita likes you." The way she said that made Lena's spine snap straight. The inflection, the tone, and the way she smirked screamed a resemblance to a certain Witch of the Wild but then her eyes gleamed in kindness and she glided to Lena. She knelt down to grab her hands. "Tell Tita what ails you, and let Tita help."
"Tita?" Lena looked to Denier who shrugged and turned his back to sit on a barrel and wait.
"Who did you think Tita was?" The woman's lips stretched wide, displaying gleaming white teeth which was unusual considering everyone else in Kirkwall had yellowed, brown or black teeth. Or even sometimes no teeth. Tita's teeth were whiter than even Lena's and she'd had a toothbrush and toothpaste for at least three months before the toothpaste ran out.
"Uh...I don't really know? You're Quintus's cousin, right?"
Tita cackled again, only this time with a bitter sharp edge. "Is that what that boy calls Tita? Tsk tsk. Tita will have to send him a reminder." Tita referred to herself in the third person, it was unnerving and humorous especially as the woman began humming. Her fingers pulling at Lena's cloak until she let it slide off, muttering small compliments of the colors of the bruises on her flesh. She did not fight it as the bruised flesh became visible to Tita's gaze who did not bat an eye.
"Tita has seen many a woman come here, but not with spark. What is you called?" Tita's dual colored eyes stared at her, wide eyed and curious.
"Selena er… Lena." She stammered out, unnerved by the direct look.
"Selena." She said it with a squint and shook her head. "Tita calls you Lena. no. no not right . Tita does not like. You are. Sela. Yes better. Tita likes." The willy woman continued humming and patted the mat she had been resting on. "Tita asks you lay."
Lena laid as instructed. "Are you a mage?"
Denier snorted again but said nothing.
"Tita is no mage. Magic this magic that, Chantry think they know everything. Life… life is everywhere. Life is a song, it swirls and soothes, Tita listens. Dwarva hears the song, real dwarva anyway. Tita is more dwarva than you." Tita sang.
"What?!" Lena's stomach dropped and she sat up to stare at the shuffling bustling woman.
"She's half dwarf." Denier explained from his perch. "Born in Orzammar. You can imagine how that went."
"Oh." She eyed the woman as she set small stones on the table around her body. Upon closer inspection, each stone were etched with some kind of rune and each were differently colored. Raising a finger to touch one, it came to life sparking and jolting with lightning and it shocked her. Snatching her hand back, she swore. It was as if she had touched a live outlet back home, the powerful surge of energy rushing through her hand and making it numb and tingly from being exposed to electricity. Electricity. They had runes of lightning and thus runes of electricity, runes of energy. The way her fingers and arms tingled after it reminded her of being shocked with 120 volts from an exposed outlet. Not that she was drawing from prior experience because who would be stupid enough to touch an exposed live outlet? Certainly not Lena.
I wonder… Her hand reached out again.
"Sela don't touch." Tita chastised as she pulled a large darkened glass bowl out and set it on the table by her head. It was filled with water and then a shiny glowing blue dust was sprinkled and swirled as it sparkled in the water.
"Is that lyrium?"
Tita smirked and then thrust the small pouch of lyrium dust underneath Lena's nose. "Tita say breathe." Blue smokey dusty plumes rose from the pouch. Yelping at lyrium's proximity, she couldn't help but inhale. Her vision swam as it filled her lungs, cooling her throat and blossoming warmth and a lightheaded swirl that she could only compare to inhaling too much helium.
Thwump, thwump, her heart thrummed and beat against her ribs, the sound reverberating through her bones. Though her body lay prone on the table, her soul- spirit swam and grew. She felt more and big, tall and everywhere for a moment. She was in the sky and in the dirt and then she was coughing, watching as Tita sprinkled more dust into the water and it grew thicker and brighter. Her hands dipping into the liquid, hands that were aged and old, scarred and marred by time and sickness.
"Tita sorry, Tita knows this will hurt." Tita whispered as she dipped her hands further into the blue liquid and raised them up. The liquidized lyrium settled onto her palms, collecting in deep rivets in her flesh as though carved with a blunt knife. The shimmering blue liquid formed their own runes on her palms, crackling and glowing as the magic in the blood of the titans ignited. "But it will hurt Tita too."
She thrust a hand hard on Lena's bruised flesh, pinning her legs down with the other. Something electric and warm flooded her and she coughed- howled as whatever runic magic this was worked. It seemed only a second passed when the same lyrium engraved hand touched her face and too bright gold and blue eyes gazed her brown ones.
"Hmm…" Tita's voice hummed and soothed words she didn't understand in a language that resonated inside her but not. "Old… so old but young." She mouthed something that made Lena shiver and beg with reddening eyes for her to be quiet. Don't tell. But before she could be sure the woman understood she was snapping awake as Denier pulled her tunic over her head. On swaying feet, she saw the table had been cleared and all trace of the runes and lyrium were gone.
Exhausted, she tried to help pull her clothes back on but her arms were heavy with ants marching underneath skin and igniting her nerves. She eyed and gaped at the disappearing bruises along her wrist and no longer did her bones scrape and grate against each other as she turned her joints. "What? How?" Her tongue felt heavy, dry, and cotton mouthed.
The not mage chuckled as she prepared some herbs. Her once smooth yet lively face was now bruised, one eye swollen and puffed and her hands shook as she held a medium sized glass decanter out for her. "Tita has more for Sela." Her voice croaked as though her throat had been crushed.
"You…" The woman hadn't healed her, she took her injuries for herself.
"Tita notices Sela's sickness." She continued, nonplussed by the horror on Selena's face, shaking the bottle to get her attention. It was filled with a viscose white pulpy liquid inside.
"What is this for?" Denier asked for her, as she tried to wrap her brain around how Tita had absorbed her injuries. Tita tapped her throat.
"Tita hears Sela's heart, too fast and too hard. It will help. Coconut oil. Sela sips once a day. Yes? Good." The woman turned toward the racks and eyed them up and down. "Tita say you eat fish, will make Sela stronger." The woman turned and grabbed what looked like dry seaweed from one of the racks. The scent had her reeling back and scrunching her nose.
"Ugh… kelp."
"It will help Sela." Tita bundled them and took payment. One whole sovereign that lena knew she was going to pay Denier back for.
"You didn't tell me you were sick." Denier hissed at Selena as they made their way back to Hightown. The coconut oil and kelp neatly wrapped and tucked into her cloak.
"Did I have to? I was practically running on fumes." Sighing, she braced against a wall. Sometimes the stairs were too much but right now it was difficult after the strange healing she had received flushed through her, tingling beneath her skin "Not like you could have done much."
"I could have helped."
"Like you helped with Varric?"
"Yes!"
"I don't need your charity just because you feel sorry for me. I don't need your pity."
"Pity's got nothing to do with it."
"What does it got to do with then?"
"You should know by now!" Denier hovered close and growled into her ear. It wasn't sexual, but it certainly screamed protective and overbearing. "There's not many other dwarves in our business."
"With good reason. You should reach out to the Pearl in Denerim, I hear they've got dwarva there too for you to fret over." Lena pushed him away with ease and continued back toward the Rose.
"Unbelievable. You're like a sister to me, Lena. I care, alright. Happy?" Denier grumped and stormed past her. She would have felt bad for rebuffing his platonic affection, but she was feeling more like herself the further she pushed what happened away.
"Aww." She cooed, teasingly as she pushed herself to keep up with him. "So we're family now? Isn't that cute. Brother and sister in thefamily business." She snickered as Denier shot her a disgusted glare.
"Despicable."
"You love it."
"Let's get back to the Rose before I vomit from your insinuations." Denier dragged her up another staircase as girlish giggles spilled out.
"Don't be too disgusted. Humans do it all the time." She gave a wolfish grin.
"Do be quiet, dear sister. "
"It's called incest… or some would even say wincest."
The alleys of Hightown echoed with a long suffering groan and a high pitched cackle. Several guards a few streets away looked up as it flowed but none approached the two dwarva as they darted into an alley and slipped into the Blooming Rose.
Lena groaned as they pushed into the main floor, where Quintus was already serving the early birds.
"I'm surprised you can keep yourself standing, I imagine you haven't slept?" Denier took ups his usual spot, fixing his shirt to display his chest. Lena noted there was no chest hair and she frowned disappointed.
"Please… a couple days staying awake, this isn't even the longest I've stayed awake." She yawned and set her head down just as the other ladies and gents made their way down, presentable for the evening.
"Selena!" A shrill voice called from the fourth voice. Even patrons glanced up as Madame Luisine eyed the female dwarva who groaned.
"Right… have to go see her about-" She was cut off by a yawn and didn't bother to finish as she made her way up. "Too many friggin stairs in Kirkwall." The stomps she made purposefully alerted the Madame to her presence.
Luisine stepped up, her hands tipping her face this way and that. Had Selena not been working in a brothel where people touched her whether she wanted them to or not, she might have been offended but it was so commonplace to her now it was downright normal. If Luisine was pleased her face was no longer bruised as heavily as it had been, she didn't say. What her dear employer did do was pull her closer, almost protectively and drew her toward her chambers. Chambers Lena had only ever been inside to empty the hearth of ashes.
"What's happening-"
"Harlan requires your assistance." Luisine's voice was tight and terse. Her grip tight but not in her usual angered miserly state but in a grip and shake that belied fear.
"What for?"
"The man knows better than to tell me what for or else I'd refuse him." Luisine huffed, her hand pressed to her temple as she opened the door and shuffled the both of them in.
Harlan sat at the sole table by the hearth, the windows uncovered allowing the setting sun's light in and casting deep dark shadows over the corners. He was eating with his feet up on the only other chair as though he owned the place, and he did actually own the place. Well co-owned but the percentage was not fifty-fifty as Lena had originally thought considering how often she saw Coterie traipsing about the Rose.
"Lena!" The man looked up with a malicious grin and gestured to the chair, taking his feet off. He sliced the chicken he was eating with a fork and knife, the spoon unused at his place. He used the knife to point at the chair, all manner of friendliness gone. "Sit."
"What did I do?" Lena sputtered, fearful of taking a step further than was necessary. And she did not sit.
The scrape of metal on ceramic stopped abruptly and even Lusine drew back away from her as the look Harlan had became dark. He chewed what was in his mouth, eyeing the fork in his hand and set it down gently. "I like this fork. Had it specially made. Know why?"
Lena gulped, shook her head.
"Sit." He spat, teeth flashing dangerously.
"Fuck you." Stupid, stupid, stupid. She shouldn't have said that. She should not have said that but she'd had it already with Harlan and his antics. First with being wrongfully saddled with this debt, then forced into giving up her maidenhead, which to be fair was a lie, and now this shit.
"Fuck me?" Harlan sat straight, teeth gritting as a chuckle rumbled its way through his chest. "Oh you couldn't afford me." Harlan snarled and laughed. He didn't ask again, the way he gleamed it looked like he wouldn't but he still expected her to sit. So she sat, keeping her hands in her lap and away from his utensils. "Each prong of this fork has been sharpened, so all I have to do would be to…" Harlan used the fork to cut through the meat on his plate, slicing thin and neat slabs and then used it to stab the meat and hold it up. "If I wanted to I could use this on flesh," Harlan scraped another piece of meat up and chewed it. "Living flesh."
"Pretty sure the Chantry would frown on that and call it blood magic." Lena hissed, not seeing where he was going.
"Blood magic, you'd know all about that wouldn't you."
"I'm a dwarf, I wouldn't know about it."
"Oh I think you do."
"What are you-"
"Athenril." Harlan said, as he continued to eat. The rogue elf took one step out of the darkened shadows holding a hefty and wet bag.Drip drip drip , the bag leaked. Drip, drop, clunk, it was dropped on the table. A putrid smell wafted from it and the buzzing of flies made Lena's stomach churn. Harlan was unaffected and even grinned at her, cruel and mocking. Athenril opened the bag.
Luisine gave a gasp of horror and left the room.
But Lena...Lena stayed staring at the decapitated head of the man she had killed, a man who would have raped and killed her. His two useless eyes, one with a large puncture point and the other whited over, stared back. Guilt, horror, and fear churned in her stomach. A spike of disgust as the smell of putrefaction became evident and the flies that had been freed lingered. Lena looked up at Harlan who was unaffected, even Athenril stood by like it was nothing.
"You did a number on him." Harlan spoke and drained his wine glass.
She was afraid to open her mouth. Not because she'd throw up, oh no she would definitely be throwing up, but because of what she might say.
"Had anyone from the chantry seen the mess you left, they'd be on a hunt for a blood mage right about now." Athenril spoke up. "As it were, I was nearby."
"And you didn't hear my screams?!" Lena snapped, glowering at Athenril.
"It was Darktown." Athenril replied, as though that absolved her for her lack of involvement.
Lena had a retort, but she swallowed it. She couldn't blame Athenril, she really couldn't. It was the same reason why no one ever helped those being attacked in rougher neighborhoods, hell even in nice ones as well on Earth. The damn Bystander effect. This is Kirkwall, there are no good samaritans. She laughed, bitterly and slumped in her chair.
"You're laughing." Lena had nearly forgotten Harlan's presence. "You shouldn't be." The head of the Coterie wiped at the knife with a cloth, making it clean and shine. "His name was Viktor. My right hand man."
All the blood drained from Lena, her head light. Shit.
"Ah, there's the reaction I wanted. Fear, finally some damn respect from you." Harlan sighed.
"I didn't mean to…" Lena tried. This time it was Harlan that laughed.
"Oh I dare say you meant to."
"He was going to rape me!" She frantically added.
"So you accuse him of stealing from me?" Harlan smirked.
Stealing? STEALING?! She snapped and grabbed the forgotten spoon. "Steal?! Raping is stealing to you?!" She roared, pushing the decapitated head off the table and all but climbed over to grab at Harlan's neck. Short chubby fingers gripping, thumbs pressed into his adam's apple. "You son of a bitch, I'm a fucking person ."
"What do you plan on doing with that spoon, Lena?" Athenril asked, but Lena didn't look her way. "It's not sharp enough for anything useful."
"Weapons don't have to be sharp." She seethed, her shoulders tense. "I'm sure I can think of something to do with a spoon given the right amount of force. I wonder how many scoops your cock would measure out." Lena growled bitter and low. " Probably no more than five."
"Magnificent." Harlan replied, a large grin spread across his face and completely unaffected by her threat.
"Do you think this is a fucking game?! Don't think I won't." Knuckles white, she wasn't sure if she could follow through.
"I have no doubt you can, but I have Athenril here." Harlan gestured to the elf who had pulled her daggers out yet hadn't moved to remove her. "This is why I prefer having women work for me. You lot can get real creative and it's beautiful." He pried her fingers from his throat. "Be a little civilized Lena, your knee is in my dinner."
Coming down, her eyes glanced at Athenril and then at Harlan who weren't making threats. Even Athenril slid her daggers back to their hidden spots. So against all better judgements and instincts, she slipped back into her chair.
"I'm not mad- well yes I am mad. Not because you killed him. Actually I'm rather impressed. But, see he was investigating something for me. He was good at that, investigating . His techniques never failed to get the information I wanted. And well now I'm down aninvestigator. " Harlan explained continuing to eat his food, unfazed by the smell of the head. He eyed the rocking head and then eyed Lena. He nodded his head to Athenril who rolled the head back into the bag and dropped it by Lena's feet. "Consider it a trophy, and..." Here he dug around in his jacket and dropped a small purse of coin. "This is an advance."
"An advance?" She picked up the coin purse and eyed the gold coins, fingers quickly counting seventeen sovereigns. "An advance to what?" Voice pitched high in fear, she stared wide eyed. What would she have to do for this kind of coin?
"In a week's time, you're to accompany Athenril to Sundermount." Harlan continued, unfazed by her outburst. "Viktor had a lead on a thief amongst our ranks. You're to find the thief and get all information you can out of them. Their accomplices, who they were selling the lyrium to, and find their stashes and where they've been keeping the gold."
"I'm sorry, what?!" Lena gaped and he peeked at her. "You want me to what ?!"
"I don't want you to do anything." Harlan said as he pushed the mostly empty plate away. "I expect you to do it." Harlan didn't have to try to appear sinister, it was all in the way he presented himself. "Do a good enough job and you may just have a new position in the Coterie."
"And if I refuse to do this?"
The sharpened fork slammed into the table, the metal ringing and shaking. "I don't like being disappointed." Harlan got up. "Oh and I haven't taken a cut to pay off your debt from the advance. You still owe me… what was it..."
"Nine sovereigns, ser." Athenril finished.
"Right." Harlan patted Lena's stiff shoulder on his way out. "Athenril, make sure she gets proper leathers. And for maker's sake take her to get a decent dagger or two."
The door shut behind him and it was just Lena and Athenril.
Silence stretched between them, until Lena blinked. "I'm going to sleep."
"No you're not. We're going to get you measured. Best to do it now." Athenril went to snatch the coin purse but Lena slammed her hand over it. She'd gotten paranoid when it came to coin nowadays.
Athenril first suggested she do something with the head, which all Lena could think to do was drop it on the roof for her to deal with later. With any luck it will be maggoty and most of it rotted out but she knew that would take days, maybe even weeks to achieve and the smell would just nauseate her.
Once that was taken care of her brain effectively shut off for the duration of the early evening. So numb was she, that she didn't even notice where they had gone to get her measured and outfitted. She only remembered saying she wanted a fur lined hooded jacket and six sovereigns being deposited. Lena did take note of the sign on the Darktown shop, but she could barely read it without her glasses.
Another four sovereigns went to a decent pair of daggers and sheaths that she holstered to her waist and hid with her cloak. They weren't fancy, but they were enchanted. One had a heating rune and it glowed red with heat when she rubbed her thumb over the rune and the other had a frost rune to it and the metal slicked with ice when activated. She didn't name them.
The leathers wouldn't be ready for another day, which meant Lena was free for the night If she didn't have to work, she wasn't going to. Especially if she did this right. I can do this. She could do this. Pay off her debt and have coin to spare. She could. It just meant potentially torturing someone for information.
Her body halted. Killing someone was one thing, especially in self defense. But torture? Human suffering like that? Sure she could writeabout it in her stories but doing it? She didn't think she had the stomach for it. Then again she never thought she'd have the stomach to kill someone let alone be forced into a situation where it was necessary. Kill or be violated and then killed.
It was a grim reality but the one she lived in now. If she was being honest with herself, which she almost never was, it was the reality she always lived in but home had far more barriers between that kind of mentality. There was layers of comfort and luxury she enjoyed. She gave up certain freedoms in hopes of the government keeping her safe. She trusted in the police, she trusted the system. She had always been aware law and order sometimes failed but she never suspected it would fail for her. She had been privileged, while technically she shouldn't have as she is of Latina heritage but she was white passing. Lena was never targeted, never pulled over, and never truly victimized by the law or order. Certainly she was victimized by other means, but not in the way so many of her home were targeted and kept down.
Here, she was a dwarf. While she wasn't an elf or a mage, thank the Cosmos for that, it still wasn't a favorable position race wise. Or gender wise. Was there ever an instance where being a woman meant you were in a position of power? The Chantry perhaps but even then she remembered how some of the brothers of the Chantry and the Templar Order behaved in game.
The humans were the privileged of this world and she could not rely on being able to pass as one because she was short and stout. I'm not a fucking teapot.
The only law and order here was the Chantry and city guards and almost everyone knew both were corrupt and easily swayed by those with coin and influence. So the only law and order that truly mattered was the law of the streets. Reputation and favors or violence and force. You either accrued enough reputation and favors, similarly coin, to sway people or you had the strength and propensity for the latter to bully the matter. Neither of which Lena currently possessed.
She gave a low somber laugh as Chantry bells signaled the sixth hour of the day post meridiem and thus the last of the day's service.Speaking of the Chantry. Gaze drawn to the large opulent structure over the tops of the Hightown buildings, she veered off course and headed that way. The exhaustion made her vision blurry but she knew the way, didn't need to take any special roads.
Some of the dwarves she had met used the Chantry as a placeholder for their temples down in Orzammar, when they used to be in Orzammar before exile or being forced to leave. Who is to say she can't use it as a place for mental cleansing in a similar fashion? Or more accurately, cleansing of her mortal soul.
There were still a few souls milling about the Chantry, hunched in prayer. Some sisters offered guidance and she spied the confessionals. She wasn't religious, hell she wasn't even spiritual, but if this place could offer some comfort for her, some peace of mind for the thing she had to do, then let it. Even if it meant lying to herself and to a cleric.
Lena didn't go for the confessional, instead she knelt at the pews and let the ambiance wash over her. Churches back home held a comfort and beauty and even in the Chantry it was no different, despite the corruption. The problem however came with her no longer moving. As soon as her eyes closed with the smell of incense and the soft chanting rolling over her, she was out. Her body slumping and eventually dropping to the floor as she slept.
The Chantry cleared and no one paid much mind to the lump covered by a grey cloak that practically blended with the Chantry floor and pews. She curled into herself, the cold winter air settling into her bones as a small puddle of drool formed beneath her head.
It was the slamming of a door that jolted her awake. Blearily she sat up, slipping on her own drool once and then gripping the pews.
"- know what you've been doing."
"Sister, what are you talking about?"
With her record involving eavesdropping, you'd think Lena would get up and leave but her ears pricked. She knew that second voice.
"I know what you sneak out to do."
"You must be confused."
"Tell me, does Elthina know her golden boy sins so frequently?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh but you do. Every whore this side of Kirkwall knows your voice."
"Stop it."
"Isn't your propensity for the sins of the flesh the reason you were sent here?"
"Please, Sister, you don't understand."
"Oh I think i do understand. You're quite naughty, for a Prince."
"How did you-"
"You think we didn't know?"
"Stop- what are you doing."
"I want to hear what those whores heard, how your voice sounds when you groan to completion."
"Stop it sister. Please."
"Why are you fighting, you so clearly want this."
"No," his voice whimpered. "I don't."
"Then why are you so hard? Be good now, I'll take care of that problem."
"Stop it."
"I said be good," There was a slap of flesh against flesh. "Or do you want Elthina to know?" There was a giggle. "You can confess your sin later."
"No… please, maker no," Came his cries.
The two hadn't noticed the hooded figure grab the closest blunt object, a statue of Andraste, as she drew closer and closer. The image of Prince Vael, culled and blackmailed, forced into this encounter left the figure furious. Her exhaustion and rage at the tipping point. Sebastian was hers. Not as her lover, but one of her own. One she took care of in a safe manner, in a safe environment and with consent .
This was not safe. There was no consent in this. His expression twisted in pain and revulsion, tears pricking at his eyes as the Sister knelt, bobbing her head.
She waited. She wanted to stop her then, but she didn't want to cause harm to such a delicate area. It pained her to not jump in but what little clarity she had, forced her to pause. Too long she watched the exchange until the offender was mounting him and she lashed forward.
The statue was heavy in her grip as she bashed her away from him. The woman, who she noted was blonde, flew to the side and Madame River didn't wait as she pounced. Anger at her own almost violation days prior, anger at the murder she had to commit, anger at Harlan forcing her into a task she was terrified of, anger at having to watch her pet be violated, and anger at Kirkwall and the shit fest that it truly was flowed through each swing of her arm. Tears burned but they did not fall as she raised the statue again and again, each squish letting her know she hit her mark until it was metal on bone that clanged in the empty Chantry. The face of Sebastian's attacker was an amalgamation of flesh and blood.
Notes: Lets see. Lena's crimes thus far are prostitution and two counts of murder. And conspiracy to commit murder and/or torture. Kirkwall is a fucked up place guys. It brings out the absolute worst in you unless you're an inherently good person, of which Lena is not.
Let me know what ya'll thought this chapter?
Ioialoha: ANOTHER fav/follow?! Yay! Thank you! I'm glad you're liking this one. And you explained yourself well! The stream of consciousness was a stylistic choice because as she remembered the details sort of got less and less and it was just key words and feelings that flowed out.
Jemstone6259: Thankfully Varric will never see those bruises, but I'm sure he'll hear about them through his spy network.
debatable-cerealkiller: Yeah I wanted to give a little insight to Lena's background without doing too much exposition. So this was a good way.