Chapter 20: Thnks fr th Mmrs
AN: So I personally love the Hinterlands. Out of everywhere they could be (swamp, desert, tundra, demon and red lyrium-filled frozen taiga), they should all be savoring time somewhere temperate. Swamp, next chapter then. I broke everything up again. :X
Words: ~4,300
xXx
"How much you think he saw?" Bevin glanced icily at the elf who rode a couple yards in front of her.
The spirit sighed. "Would it not be best to assume that he saw everything available?"
She could feel her face heating again at the thought, keenly aware of what was in the conversation that her phone had powered back on to. The other dozen-odd apps trying to run background processes and bitching about lack of network connectivity leant to the idea that he was being snoopy - giving him the benefit of the doubt, 'explorative' at the least - and maybe hadn't known exactly what he would find. But still.
Jenn was an old fling and before she found herself here, they still occasionally sexted. Thankfully, it didn't look like he had found any of the other messaging apps.
She considered introducing him to the trove of dating app screenshots she had. Maybe the inundation of terrible pickup lines and dick pics would teach him better. Bevin rolled her eyes - he'd treat it like some study of human mating habits.
She put an application lock on the image gallery. And the other messaging apps.
Bevin wasn't sure if she wanted to call him on it or ignore it and pretend everything was still completely normal.
"I do not see why you are so upset," the spirit hummed. "Why does it matter if you are not interested in pursuing him? And since you are, now he knows what a lovely body you have."
"That doesn't even deserve an answer," Bevin grumbled inwardly.
"Answer me this, then, child. Should he make his interest known would you reciprocate?" To emphasize her point, the spirit drew forth recent memories. She warned, "You may want to give it serious consideration."
She hated to admit it, but the spirit was right. Solas' recent behavior was...different. While subtle, she doubted it hadn't been purposeful. It couldn't be missed that he was initiating closer contact on his own - at least while they were alone.
"Again: terrible idea."
"I am sure that the same things that concern you have already occurred to him," the spirit pointed out.
That was true. With the Breach sealed, everyone - not just Solas - was treating them as permanent residents. There seemed to be an unspoken trust that they would not be forcefully whisked away anytime soon. Maybe that was what triggered the change in him, too.
"You're awfully contemplative this morning," came a voice from beside her. Looking over, she noticed Kremisius watching her. No, he asked to be called Krem.
"How do you know I'm not like this every morning?" Bevin asked. It was hard to see the lieutenant the same way that she saw the Iron Bull. He came across almost jovial and light-humored, though very devoted to his leader. Granted, she was trying hard not to let prejudice color her judgment. The Iron Bull being the Iron Bull intimidated her enough that she feared she was being unfair. So far, the qunari had shown that he had a keenly sharp mind behind the brute force of his body and ax - a deadly combination. He cracked jokes as easily as he cracked skulls.
Krem shrugged. "Fair." He glanced back to her. "So the Herald tells us you're both from the same place."
Bevin made a sound disagreement. "We're from the same country, but different states. And they're fairly different."
"Ah, that explains the accents." Krem pondered more questions to ask. "How does-"
But Bevin felt it then - that sudden nausea as her vision began to swim. Why couldn't it choose more convenient times? She gripped the saddle tightly, feeling herself slump forward. Krem distantly called her name.
Within the new scene, shadowy figures dance in front of her eyes, slowly becoming clearer. A man is standing before her, watching something beyond her shoulder. His lips move, speaking, but it is still hazy. Eyes narrowing, he turns his attention to her and looks expectant.
Her own mouth moves, but she can't make out the words. They are wispy and foreign on her tongue. Bevin felt confused and detached - far more so than she typically did in a vision. Her gloved hand reaches out to settle on his arm in a soothing manner.
The man is elven, but unlike any she had seen. He stands regal, eyes severe, and blond hair woven beneath a fine crown of glinting gold. Decorated robes hang from his shoulders.
Her head turns to look back at what he had been watching. People are dancing across a wide floor to music on the air. To either side are placed tables filled with food and drink. The hall is quite majestic and open.
They are approached by another elven man - though by the looks of things, everyone here is elven. He is dressed similarly to the other man, though what stands out are his bright blue eyes and blinding smile. Arms wide, he seems to be greeting them jovially. She speaks again, without a doubt now, it is elven - but she didn't know elven well enough to pass more than a few words. The man laughs heartily at whatever she had said and makes a summoning gesture.
A young girl, doe-eyed beneath the stark vallas'lin upon her face, rushes to his side with a platter of chalices, and he bids them partake. Though his face is already aglow with drink, he takes a deep swing of another before turning away and flitting his way through groups of people.
Was this in some distant future?
Several minutes seem to pass as she speaks further to the man and occasionally watches the dancers. There is a raucous at one of the tables where a man is seated cross-legged on a cushion at the end. The man from before is near him, gesturing down the table to where others are laughing and tittering. Even from here, she can tell that the man seated is dressed very differently with far more bronzed skin showing. His face is partially obscured by his cup as he drinks, though long dark hair is loose down his back in many braids.
She feels herself laugh along at the scene and begins stepping closer. With a glance over her shoulder, she sees the first man roll his eyes and wave her on with a shake of his head. The vision melts away as she walks.
"That's gotta be annoying," she heard Krem say as she came back to the waking world. "I'd have so many trust issues," he chuckled. His hand steadied her as she sat back up.
"Don't remind me." She shook her head of the last vestiges of fog in her mind.
"What did you see?" Krem asked.
"Dunno. This one was...foggy. It was hard to make anything out." A partial truth. She wasn't about to say that she'd watched a bunch of noble elves at a party.
"You're face didn't get as glowy this time," Nikki spoke up from further ahead.
"Perhaps there is a correlation," Solas suggested from her other side.
Bevin can only shrug. "I'll have to reflect on it." With that, they largely left her alone to her thoughts until it was time to make camp that evening.
"That wasn't a vision," Cole stated, very sure of his words. He was suddenly beside her as she helped search for wood and kindling for the fire.
"Then what was it?" She didn't think it was a vision as she normally had, but the other options only confused her.
"Dancing and drinking, yet another celebration of status. Her own does not wish to be here, but only because he is not the one hosting. He disapproves of the entertainment. Pride draws her eye. He tells jokes at the expense of the nobles, equally not desiring to be here, though required to for appearances."
What started in Cole's poetic winding of speech, turned into a near clinical observation of...whatever she had seen.
"A memory," he finally clarified.
"A memory?" she parroted. Then it clicked. This was a memory from the elven spirit, who was being oddly silent. Though she seemed to slink away regarding anything that actually pertained to her.
"It wasn't supposed to start this soon." Cole worried empathetically.
Bevin had no idea what he was talking about. "What wasn't?"
Cole became solemn, his voice nearly a whisper, "Your souls are starting to settle together."
"Compassion- leave us, please, dear."
"You need to tell her," he demanded, frustration creeping into his tone. Cole stared at her face a moment longer, seemingly seeing past her, then disappeared back to camp.
The spirit took her time before explaining. "Yes, that is a memory of mine. From quite some time ago. June was taking a turn hosting a party of extravagance." She laughed knowingly, following the odd tangent of thoughts that arose from Bevin. "Yes, that June."
The other god-Mages were supposedly banished, locked away in the black city of madness. All save for two. The one who betrayed his people, and the one slain by his hand.
"Fen'Harel did not kill me," the spirit was quick to correct. "He took revenge on the others for their part and complacency in my death. There is much you and my own People do not know about what really happened. And much that was forgotten with time." She sounded mournful. "The Wolf is a dear friend of mine."
That left, "Mythal."
"I have intended to tell you, though not so soon. You were not ready for what it will overturn on your path." The spirit, Mythal, regretted this. Had she not seen the memory, this would have continued to have been kept from her.
Bevin's mind was swarming with thoughts, each battling to be voiced. "Why?" "Why me?" "What did Cole mean about our souls?" "Why am I seeing your memories?" She slid down a tree to sit among its roots, no longer trusting her feet to keep her standing with her head reeling.
"Your soul is bright - much stronger than mine is or will be. And this is good! Ultimately, yours will take over. You have so much potential to do great things here…" 'Potential' - the spirit always spoke of her 'potential.' "I did not wish for knowledge of me to become a further danger to you." And Bevin knew that Mythal was right in this. Even with as little as she knew now, it had almost gotten her into deep water before. She had to separate what she knew and what she actually knew only through her. This was the reason Mythal was always so reluctant to show her new magic. They didn't need someone grilling her on how she knew something when there wasn't another viable source.
Voices from the others nearby broke her from her thoughts. Bevin scrambled back up the tree and dusted her robes and leggings of dirt.
"But you are worthy of me," Mythal soothed. "I will assist where I can as you traverse the road before you. I shall leave you to your thoughts for now. We will have time to speak further later."
Her mind quieted. Bevin found herself asking for the last watch shift so that she'd have time to be alone with her thoughts and not have to face Solas in the Fade right away. He would quickly catch on that something was bothering her.
xXx
Little had changed in the Hinterlands since she was last here. Things were maybe a bit warmer and drier as the year had progressed from the apparent Winter she had first arrived here during.
They stopped by the Cross Roads to replenish supplies. A few new merchants had set up shop, feeling at ease once more with the increased presence of Inquisition soldiers ensuring the safety of the area. An unfamiliar face selling a selection of robes and cloaks drew her gaze.
Her clothing was mostly new now, fitted to her person far better than before. In lieu of full length robes, she now wore a tunic and leather enforced leggings, both in much more subdued colors - slate and cobalt - than the pale blue Mage's robes she had worn. The cloak about her shoulders was a leftover, however, grabbed out of need for the journey. While she could make it suit her needs, it wasn't ideal.
Bevin thumbed a thick cloak, fur-lined and dark. The material would likely even keep rain repelled for a time - a great thing to have for the ever-storming Fallow Mire they were travelling to next. It seemed a little big but sizing it down some wouldn't take her much time. After selling a number of unneeded materials and trinkets they had found and gathered over the months, she had a decent store of money now.
Bartering was very new to her, and she had no idea how she'd fare. Hesitantly, she made eye contact with the merchant. "How much for this one?"
He looked her over, then canted his head as he took hold of the cloak and held it up. "This one's five-hundred gold." His eyes met hers as she was immediately put off by the price. She didn't have anywhere near that much to even talk him down to. "I have another one - quite similar. Pro'ly fit ya better, too. Hold on." He bent over and flipped the latch up on a chest. He took a moment to sort through his wares, then came up with another cloak in hand.
"Lightly used. Made it for ma daughter, but she decided she wanted a brighter colored one after one of those flashy Mages came through here." The man rolled his eyes with a chuckle. "You can have it for a hundred an' fifty. Can try it on, if ya like."
Bevin removed her current cloak, setting it aside, and reached for the one he held out. This one was slightly lighter in color than the last, though still a dark grey on the outside. Same outer material. There was slight ruching and decorative stitching near the collar - a personal touch. The fur lining was just as plush - rabbit maybe - trimmed with what was probably wolf or dyed fennec. It was a good length, coming to hit at her calves. There were pockets within the lining that would be of use.
Doing the math, she determined that the purchase wouldn't leave her completely broke with another eighty or so left over. "I think you have a deal, sir." They finished the trade, and she scooped up her old cloak to drop off at the Inquisition supply caravan for someone else to use or pass out if needed.
She met with part of the group waiting on the other to finish up.
Nikki made a face. "Aren't swamps kinda hot?"
"Not all. Temperature doesn't really matter to me much, though. Staying dry is a little more effort," Bevin explained. She could alter the temperature around herself very easily with a few strategically placed glyphs, but keeping the rain off meant keeping a barrier constantly active. "I grew up in the middle of the Louisiana marshes, and those are more what you're imagining. But swamplands can occur in colder areas, too. Depends more on drainage levels."
The Herald frowned. "I thought you said you were from Michigan?"
Bevin nodded. "I moved there during high school. It was where I lived when…" she shrugged, letting her implied words hang.
"You called Texas crazy!" Nikki exclaimed. "Texas ain't got nothing on Louisiana, Bevin!" She threw her arms up. "Gah, this explains so much!"
"What? Explains what?" Bevin asked, exasperated.
Nikki only shook her head with a grin and turned to wave over the last of the stragglers. She ran a gloved hand through short locks that were looking in need of a wash.
Bevin still found herself ever envious of Nikki's shorter and shorter haircuts. She didn't want anything near that but really wanted to hack hers off at her shoulders or so. One of these days she was just gonna do it and let everyone complain their asses off. While she normally preferred it long, it just wasn't practical while travelling about like this. She had to keep it up or plaited in some manner to keep it clean and free of tangles as long as possible between opportunities to wash up. All for some maidenly image. She didn't entirely disagree with them, though...
Gathered again, they followed Solas' lead to the east.
After a bit of wandering and rehashing what they were looking for, again, they came upon an elf Mage entangled in battle with rift demons. The group was quick to join in and made short work of the rift.
The elf, Dalish by her appearance, eyed them all warily. "By your weapons, I see you come ready for battle. Perhaps we face a common enemy in these demons."
Bevin discreetly looked about for any others. Was she really out here alone?
Nikki's skeptical words echoed her thoughts, "Are you taking on demons by yourself?"
The elf scoffed and shook her head. "Fighting the demons is pointless. There will always be more, and I have no means of closing the rifts. But I have heard of Elven artifacts that measure the Veil. They may tell us where new rifts will appear." So she was here looking for the same thing Solas was. "I was not expecting so many demons, however, and I believe one of the artifacts is nearby."
"I think we're looking for the same thing," Nikki stated. "You should come with us! Would make it a lot easier."
She looked taken aback, but nodded. "Thank-you. I do not think I could do this alone."
"Great! Well, I'm Nikki," she introduced herself.
"I am Mihris." Bevin squinted. She knew a Mihris. Maybe it was a common Elven name. She wondered how he was doing.
"What brought you here?" Bevin asked, foregoing an introduction herself. Something felt...off about this Mage.
Mihris took her in, eyes settling longer than would be coincidence on the amulet corded around her waist - though Solas did say that clan leaders and their Firsts could potentially recognize it. The woman gave her a strained smile. "I was -am- First of Clan Virnehn. I left in service of my clan and saw that great tear in the Veil on my journey. I know more of magic and the Veil than any shemlen, so I hoped to help."
"Ma harel, da'len." To say that Solas' response was cold and rather out of character would have been an understatement. No-one else seemed to catch it, though, perhaps unused to the language's tones and canter.
"I- We should keep moving." Mihris was quick to disengage and bid them on.
"He just said she was lying or being deceptive, right?" She hoped to confirm with Mythal.
"You are correct. Not to miss that he is speaking down to her with the entitling. There is some one-sided familiarity there." Mythal was right. This was far from the banter that he'd tease her with.
Something about the woman made him leery. What was she lying about? Why she was here? Who was she, really?
They continued along the slight path to what looked to be the remains of some kind of temple or building carved into the cliffside. Solas readily stepped forward to clear rubble and fallen pillars from blocking the entrance.
Bevin gripped her staff, sensing the demons within before seeing them. As soon as they were visible, she barriered the entrance to allow those with ranged weapons to pick them off with ease.
The hall beyond was mostly bare stone, broken up occasionally by overgrowth. At the end was a...bizarre looking headless statue. Bevin glanced curiously at a grouping of candles, one lit with a green flame.
"What kind of fire's that?" she heard Blackwall ask from behind her.
Solas offered an explanation of the phenomenon. "I have heard of this but never seen it before. It is called veilfire - a form of sympathetic magic. A memory of flame that burns in this world where the Veil is thin."
She blinked. "Bullshit. That's the magic he used to light my room at first when we were doing those glyphs. Like, a week ago. And I'm pretty sure I've seen him use it other times, too." Bevin was careful to keep her face neutral to the others. Why was this something he'd lie about?
With a wave of his hand, he lit a nearby torch with veilfire, setting the room aglow in green. He met her eye as he reached to take up the torch.
'Ma harel, hahren,' she mouthed with a quirk of a smile, raising an eyebrow in question. The barely perceivable stutter in his step as he continued through the archway to a set of stairs was enough to satisfy her for now.
Bevin could safely say that she had never expected to see piles of skulls casually lying around outside of video games. Grimacing, she followed the others into an open cavern long surrendered to disrepair. The stone tiles were severely broken and uneven beneath her feet. This place had clearly been raided in the past, likely more than once.
The few low-level demons that appeared as they made their way in were brushed aside, barely an obstacle for them anymore.
Solas lit more of the torches around the room with veilfire, aiding in their search in the dim light. He and Mihris clued on the sought artifact at the same time. After taking his time to analyse and activate the odd, spherical device, he deemed the Veil strengthened here and made safe for future travellers.
They soon parted ways with the elven Mage as she bid them go with Mythal's blessing before making haste to leave them behind. Bevin got the distinct impression that said god was shaking her head in amusement.
They spent a bit of time going over the rest of the room for anything of value. An old rune was found by light of the veilfire, but there was little else to be found.
With the artifact found, they could make haste now to the Fallow Mire.
xXx
When Bevin opted to take the last watch shift from their normal first for the third day in a row, he found himself accosted in turns by other members of the group.
The Herald had been first, stating her worry over her friend, who had seemed distant and upset by something in the recent days. "She's avoiding you - what did you do?" Eyes were narrowed on him as she scrutinized his face from much closer than he was entirely comfortable with.
He claimed that he was not aware of anything that he had done to cause her unease. But had she been put off by his stating to be unfamiliar with veilfire? He had not been thinking when he had stated that, worried only over how it may seem to be familiar with something that he personally had not seen occurring naturally in Thedas since awaking. In select locations, it was effortless to summon.
However, he was less surprised that she had honed in on this deception, and more in awe that she had thrown his own words back at him. He had restrained his laughter in the moment. In all his dreams, he had never thought that a human would be his undoing in so many ways...and he enjoyed it.
"I'll talk to her. But if I find out that you did something to hurt her…" the threat was left on the air, the Herald showing an oddly protective stance.
The Warden he had not expected to approach him, let alone over Bevin. "She gets clingy at night, which I am sure that you're aware of, being as how you typically share a tent with her." Ah, he saw what Blackwall was doing. With the change in shifts, Bevin wound up sharing a tent with whomever else became her watch partner. Jealousy was a clever tactic to invoke.
The Iron Bull made it clear that there was an undercurrent to their concerns that was less than pure. "Look, I have gold riding on you two."
"Oh, for…" Solas openly glared at the man sitting close. He had not thought that his affairs were so...openly regarded. They were taking the first watch together. This was going to be a long night.
"Now, you did something that she's been giving you nasty looks over since we hitched up from Skyhold," he gestured towards her tent, "but I don't think that's actually related to...this." Since they left Skyhold? She had seemed quite at ease the night prior to their leave. Did she somehow know that he had taken liberties with her phone device? Considering that he was not familiar with all or even most of its capabilities, this was not out of the question.
The Iron Bull leaned into him. "So you make nice, or I make nice."
He fought back the growl in his voice. "I hardly think Bevin would have any interest in you." He did not wish to speak for her or make assumptions, but the very thought of the qunari being so familiar with her made him bristle.
"I think she'll come around," the Iron Bull chuckled. "And I have a thing for redheads. Either way, it's a win-win for me." The other man grinned, then stood and walked off to speak with his Chargers.
Solas sighed. He resolved to speak with her on the morrow, after he had time to consider his approach. If only there was a way to get her alone more inconspicuously. Everyone was far too keen on his actions. He did not need their gazes passing judgment.
xXx
Translations:
"Ma harel, da'len." - elven, "You lie, child."
"Ma harel, hahren." - elven, "You lie, elder."
Comments and feedback welcome!