TW: racism, misogyny, allusions to SA
Continues here, halfway sun segment of agent Mojo, house of Fenris, city of Kirkwall, finishing operation Nap Time. Eyes of agent Mojo opening to surprise spoon attack. Lick, licking face. There, there, lonely boy. Agent Mojo here.
Face of angry boy immediate fashioning into frown, nose wrinkles, head shake, shake, shaking! Barking, "Venhedis." Mean paw pushing agent Mojo away. Jeezy Kableezy! Make up your mind!
Near-agent Fenris sitting up, inspecting mystery paper. Anger pure obliterate. Bed vibrating from laughter. Five out of ten sadness. Mission continuing success.
Sad eyes in a smile turning to agent Mojo, showing mystery paper. Drawing of agent Mojo supreme smile behind sleepy spit bubble boy. Barks, "What do you think?"
Happy barks. Sitting up, maximum pride pose. Handsomest boy. No competition.
Near-agent breathe scoffing. "Get on my level, mabari."
Elven symmetry overrated, drool boy. Too much of easy. Symmetry for puppies!
Near-agent Fenris maximum brooding. "I suppose you can go on the shelf."
Shelf? What shelf? Agent Mojo ready to investigate. Following sad boy to mystery shelves, watching him add picture. Rising up for examine. Too many smells. Overstimulation. Angry boy pushing snout of agent Mojo down. Smelling near-agent. Three out of ten sad. Interesting.
Mission success?
Maximum brooding continues. Agent Mojo major bored. Going home. See you later, happy boy.
"Bye," flat bark from afar.
Finally free from the needy dog, Fenris sat at his desk and opened his diary. He just didn't have words today. His brain was foggy.
Had good time with Hawke. Changed mind on birthday attire. Red band says nice things. Scared some racists. Pain flower dream, eaten by Patriarch. Fereldans obsessed with puppies. Dog keeps following me. Dying today.
Wonderful penmanship, a critical part of him thought.
What is he? A fucking poet? another gruff part said. What you should be more concerned with is how weak and stiff your body is right now. Can you even fight? What in the Void are you if you can't?
A whiny bitch, the critical voice said.
Not a man, the gruff voice said.
Not boyfriend material, the critical voice said.
Or father material. What can you even teach a child? To be like you? Maker help them, another voice said.
You barely joined the 'family' and you're already being played like a fiddle, another voice said. Everyone can see how desperate you are, puppy eyes.
Don't listen to them, a voice of willpower said. They're like the evil step-sisters. Like the mage and the pirate.
You're a great boyfriend; my mouth's been stuck in a smile for the last month, the red band said. Stop listening to these jagweeds.
The honeymoon period will end sometime, the gruff voice said. And then you'll just be your old, depressed, angry self again, with the new addition of being a crying, dizzy little bitch, and she'll get tired of it and leave you, and you'll be alone.
Are you seriously going to listen to this jerkface? the red band said, incensed.
Why don't you cry about it? the gruff voice said.
Fenris buried his face in his hands. Stop! Stop it! He needed silence!
Agent Mojo stopping in war-zone. Smelling of sad again! What? Going back. Booping near-agent Fenris at desk. Smelling eight out of ten sad. Sigh whimpers. What just happened?
This near-agent downright difficult.
Mojo rising up to brave overstimulation shelves. Detecting patterns. Dominant smells—
"Mojo, sit," sharp barking from near-agent Fenris.
Nice try, sad boy. Not my partner.
"Down. Now."
Dominance maximum fail over this agent. Detecting smell patterns:
One of: Partner Hawke
Two of: Nature
Three of: Rocks and things
"Stop that!" near-agent barking, coming to Mojo.
Ten out of ten anger, but sadness three out of ten. Interesting. Happy area of effect.
Agent Mojo going back on all fours. Idea. Follow Mojo, angry boy.
Afternoon, The Gallows
Thrask was exhilarated to be assigned sweeping duty in the staff quarters. It was a strange turn of events from Cullen, who, moreover, put a temporary ban on senior staff working the Tranquil floors. Unfortunately, despite his little demotion, Thrask was still senior staff and, consequently, was also banned. It stressed him out greatly. Young templars were idiots. Instead, he was going to be working with inductees, both mages and templar recruits. But not today.
Today he was going to toss Alrik's room like a roaring thunder, and he had one or two other jackasses in mind. He was so thrilled it gave him a semi, though he was ashamed to admit it.
Most templars were very clean. They rammed discipline and order into you from day one. But Alrik's room was… too clean. Neurotically clean.
He had a whole altar of peculiar paraphernalia. Proclamations of honour, strength and purity. A large metal pendant hanging on the wall, a seal of the Inquisition. Medals for bravery and antiquated figurines on display. Books like My Absolution and… The Turenstein Diaries.
My Absolution was an insane manifesto written by a former Knight-Commander, Adelbert Himmel, in the Anderfels. It was downright the most extremist Andrastian country in the world. The Divine had little reach there. There was absolutely no separation of Chantry and state. 'Absolution' was what the Crown called the rightful capital punishment of heretics. There was no freedom of religion there. Elves had it rough, and were few and far between. The Circle mage population was quite scarce as well. Many families took to fleeing the country as soon as their children showed signs of magic, while surviving apostates largely tried to go the Grey Warden route. The Grey Wardens held political power in Anderfels, and in the last decades were heavily criticising the inefficacy of the Crown. Then came Knight-Commander Himmel, who firmly believed that the Anderfels were being taken over by the mage-empowering Grey Wardens and by enterprising apostates who were experts at hiding their magic and infecting noble bloodlines and merchant networks. Of course, the best such covert 'experts' were half-elf mages who passed for human, but had evil, foreign elven blood. He thought a lot of humans were secret half-elves, and dedicated whole chapters to phrenological 'studies' of the races and tips on how to detect degeneracy. He loved women of the Chantry for their purity and rationality, and considered female mages their polar opposite. He had this whole theory that witches were inherently drawn to blood magic because of their monthly cycles. Not only did periods make witches unstable, but it gave them a powerful advantage by having lots of blood to use without having to dig into their life force. This was all pseudoscience, of course. Female mages had no inherent predisposition to blood magic, and their periods had no useable life force. If more women seemed to resort to blood magic, on the whole, Thrask thought, it was because of an increased everyday stress compared to men. They were by far the greatest targets for unwanted attention, coercion and blackmail. They were also far quicker to bend the knee, perhaps because they were taught to do so, or out of survival instinct. Of course, this was also just a theory.
Either way, Himmel caused a civil war that was swiftly ended by the Wardens, and his deranged fascist solutions never came to pass.
Our buddy, Alrik, apparently, was a big fan.
The Turenstein Diaries was another, truly unhinged book, this time of fiction, by a Marcher professor at the University of Orlais. It fantasised about a war like Himmel wished to carry out, but turned into a world-wide Chantry-defecting Templar revolution that, by the end of the book, exterminated all mages and non-human races in southern Thedas.
The Chantry did not issue a ban on these books. It did ban silly fortune-telling cards and poetry books with homosexual overtones. Priorities.
That a Templar in Kirkwall could freely display such affections and still hold a position in the Order disgusted and enraged Thrask to his very core.
Of course, what he was hiding, under his mattress, were various dirty magazines. Jokes, stories and crass depictions of young human and elven women in various stages of undress. This was all too common, of course. What was noteworthy and worrying was that the 'mage'-themed pages were dog-eared and rumpled like no other. There were all sorts of little illustrated short stories about Templars, Seekers, vigilante witch and demon hunters capturing sexy evil apostates and demons—
No, he had no more stomach to read.
This had to amount to something. Meredith… might not care, but Cullen never struck him as the kind of man who was comfortable with this kind of thing. In fact, he rather avoided doing sweeps or frisking women, which, though commendable in a way, meant people who did get a kick out of that got to do it instead.
The desk came next. He opened the first drawer. Out came two very concerning things…
Apparently, Alrik was an aspiring writer himself. Of course. He didn't write logs, he wrote stories. Stories similar to those in the problematic magazines, about vigilante 'heroes' serving 'justice' by doing… awful things to female mages. He didn't recognise any names, but some descriptions sounded awfully familiar. This had to amount to something. It simply had to.
The other major concern was Alrik had written his very own little insane manifesto. The Tranquil Solution. Laid out cleanly and professorially, all the benefits of tranquilising the entire mage population in Thedas…
If all this didn't get him fired, Thrask wasn't just going on the stand. He was going to the Divine. This was too much—
"Ser Thrask!" he heard Pérez shouting from another room. "Come see this."
"What is it?" Thrask said, joining her.
"Our boy Keran's too cute," Pérez said, laughing. She was throwing a stuffed bunny in the air. "D'you think that blanket's from his mama, too?"
Not one muscle moved on Thrask's face. "You should see Alrik's quarters."
Pérez's smile slowly died, and she followed him.
"Holy fuck," she said glumly. "Sorry, ser!" she said, tensing up and covering her mouth.
It was comforting to know that despite his demotion, a lot of them still saw him as Knight-Lieutenant Thrask.
"Oh, it's warranted," he said, shaking his head.
"Yeah…" she said, brushing at the back of her head. "This… isn't cute at all."
They couldn't find Cullen anywhere downstairs, so they went to the administration offices. They ran into Lucy on the stairs, in the inner yard, holding on a broom and looking up at the ceiling for no apparent reason.
"Lucy," Thrask said coldly.
"Hey, Luce," Pérez said with a smile.
It was interesting. Pérez's sentiments about the Tranquil largely amounted to discomfort and avoidance. Did he… change that?
"Am I clear to proceed with clean-up in the staff quarters, Ser Thrask?" Lucy asked flatly.
"Suspend all your duties for now, my dear," Thrask said softly. He gave Pérez a glance and sighed. "It's going to be a long day."
"The days are becoming shorter, as per the cold season in this moist subtropical mid-latitude climate," Lucy said emotionlessly.
Pérez chuckled nervously. "He meant that it's going to be difficult for us for the rest of the day."
Lucy stared at them. "There is a loud situation in the Knight-Commander's office."
"Huh. Some stars must be in retrograde, I swear," Pérez joked.
"Astrology is a pseudoscience," Lucy said flatly.
They moved past her and went in the corridor, where Guard-Captain Vallen and her guards were taking out a tall, dark man in their custody. Something about him was so, so familiar. Had they spoken before?
"Nothing to see here. Move!" Meredith growled at them, coming out of her office.
"Ser Thrask," Aveline said, clearly uncomfortable.
"Guard-Captain," Thrask said, making way.
"What was that about?" Pérez said, raising an eyebrow after them.
"If it's not a matter of life and death, leave," Meredith said sternly.
"Oh, you'll want to see this, Knight-Comm—"
An ear-piercing deep scream came from outside. They rushed out and saw the man in custody howling in anguish, no longer tall and stern, but barely able to stand.
"Ma filia! Ma filia innocenta! Ma culpa!" he cried loudly.
"Memento. Vocare te papa," Lucy said coldly.
"What is happening?" Thrask demanded.
"I think she said she remembers him as her papa," Pérez said quietly.
A stabbing pain moved through Thrask, strangling him. He stood there, frozen, staring at the father in complete and utter agony.
"I will kill you!" the man shouted, trying to get out of Aveline's grasp. "I! WILL! KILL YOU!"
"Serah, I suggest you take to silence before you add more evidence against you," Aveline said sternly.
But the father was looking above them, so Thrask turned his head. Meredith was standing in the doorway, trying not to make it obvious she was hyperventilating.
"Aveline, please, go easy on him," Thrask finally said. "His life just got destroyed a moment ago."
Meredith sat down quietly at her desk.
"What is the matter with you?" Thrask said, offended. "You couldn't order a lackey to take her away? She was standing outside all this time!"
"Your boy, Keran, was in charge of her," Meredith said, looking down. It didn't sound like an accusation. A twinge of guilt in her voice. "The… sweep on the mage quarters has been… unravelling."
He couldn't put his finger on why she looked so ashamed. He more than expected her to bite his head off for his insolence.
Thrask shook his head quietly. His insolence merely screamed inside him to continue. His fatherhood, doubly so. He raised his index finger with all the rancour of an accusation. "That man will be traumatised for life having seen his daughter like that."
"I know," Meredith said sternly, finally looking up. She looked towards the window. "I've instructed the Guard-Captain to signpost him to a support group for bereaved parents."
"A support group?" Thrask said, frowning.
Meredith looked strangely ashamed again. Thrask knew Meredith well. Neither of them would have admitted it, but they used to be friends. A long, long time ago. In another life.
"At the Keep." She grimaced a little. "Lady… Hawke… has been establishing a number of them." There was resentment in her voice, but she was trying to hide it.
He did get a letter from Hawke about something like that. But it was so incoherent and rambling it sounded like an invitation to a group for recovering alcoholics. He thought she should follow her own advice.
"What happened here?" Thrask said.
Meredith sighed, rubbing her forehead. "You're dismissed for today, Helena. Go rest."
Helena nodded. "It was a strange experience." She looked up at the ceiling, in the doorway. "I would have preferred not to have it," she said, leaving.
Meredith leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. "He wanted to see his daughter, which was, of course, impossible. After the umpteenth time I said 'No', the gentleman decided to engage in 'peaceful' protest, by chaining himself to my assistant. After a spirited debate on whether his actions were permissible, on whether Helena constituted 'property', I sent for the Guard."
Tranquil did constitute property. Mages were technically deemed as people in official texts, but they still fell within the definition of slavery. Every southern country and city-state had a decree or another in tandem with Chantry law, that stated slavery was not permitted except in the case of criminals. That is—non-mages who broke the law and were imprisoned, and mages, who became apostates the moment they showed magic. Nowhere did it explicitly state that Circle mages were carrying out a life-sentence punishment for being what they are, but that was what it amounted to, when you pieced the texts together. Tranquil, on the other hand, were no longer mages. But the Chantry retained them as a 'mercy' to protect them due to their lack of capacity. Despite this, in official texts they were often just referred to as 'bodies'. They had no rights to decision-making, forced to perform labour, almost the entirety of their salary getting taxed by the Chantry. Their finances were completely controlled by their appointed 'guardians', namely a templar. Thus, to Thrask, he was de facto a slave master. It embittered him greatly, but he tried to do his best. Tranquil just didn't constitute property when it was convenient.
Pérez puffed and suppressed her laughter. "Wow. That's… kind of impressive."
Meredith shot her a violent glare.
Pérez cleared her throat. "Not impressive, Knight-Commander."
Thrask crossed his arms. "And it didn't occur to you to send that person on a detour to make sure Lucretia wasn't in sight?"
"Get off my back, Thrask!" Meredith shouted suddenly.
They both steeled themselves.
"What do you want?" Meredith said tiredly, sighing and going over her papers.
"Justice," Thrask said, putting a sack of Alrik ugliness on her desk.
"What is this, then?" Meredith said, putting on her monocle and raising a book.
"Extremist political texts, mage-centred sado-masochistic pornography, his very own mage-centred sadistic pornography matching the description of several Tranquil and apprentices I know, and a Maker-damned manifesto calling out for the mass tranquilisation of all mages!"
"Oh," Meredith said, letting the book fall. "Ser Alrik."
"Yes," Thrask said, raising an eyebrow. "You don't seem very surprised."
"I've read his little 'manifesto'," Meredith said, making air quotes and rolling her eyes.
"He proposed it to you?" Thrask said angrily.
"Oh and how," Meredith said, pushing the book away. "He went over my head and sent it to the Divine herself." She mumbled something quietly to herself. It sounded like, "The little shit."
"He is a monster!" Thrask said angrily.
"He is… not all there, headwise," Meredith agreed. "I stamped a huge red 'No' on that, as did the Divine." She started mumbling. "Would have cherished the opportunity to stamp it on his pasty little head."
"Look at these 'stories'," Thrask insisted. "They match several Tranquil and apprentices I know, some of whom have already spoken out."
Meredith gave a good, long read. There was a twinge of guilt in there, but it vanished quickly. She took off her monocle.
"This is not evidence, Ser Thrask," Meredith said. "This is creative writing."
"But the Tranquil—"
"The Tranquil aren't fit to give evidence. Do you have apprentices that have spoken out?"
"Are you joking? Tranquil cannot lie."
"They also have no capacity."
Thrask's vein was popping. He flailed his arms. "Exactly!"
"I cannot commence disciplinary action solely based on this, Knight-Sergeant," Meredith said, raising her voice a little. "He is a highly accomplished lieutenant and a long-standing trainer. He is crucial to our education program."
"He is training recruits to be as insane as he is!" Thrask shouted.
"Is he?" Meredith said, throwing the other books away lazily. "I haven't heard of any recruits spouting extremist propaganda in my Circle."
Of course not. Extremist for her was only what was beyond her extreme.
"I cannot believe this," Thrask said quietly.
"Believe it," Meredith said firmly, putting her fist along the table. "Unless you can find me some actual evidence, my hands are tied."
Thrask grimaced and inhaled. "Actual evidence," he said sarcastically, faking a smile. "Very well, then."
He was ready to storm out.
"If you find someone of lower rank with more incriminating… possessions, Ser Thrask," Meredith said, folding her hands into an inverted V, "I would be more than happy to dismiss them in exchange for your silence on the stand."
Thrask turned around, squinting. "Don't play that game with me, Knight-Commander. Seniority does not excuse abuse. Seniority doesn't mean anything. Otherwise you wouldn't have given Knight-Captainship to a twelve-year-old," he said, storming out in the corridors.
"Should I have given it to you, instead?" Meredith shouted angrily after him, coming out in the doorway. "So I could hear your whining every day? So you can turn my Circle into a bloody Rivaini Circus?" That's what they called the Circle in Rivain, or lack thereof. "Get over it and do your job!"
"Kn-Knight Commander," Pérez said, stopping and turning around to bow. "Holy shit, ser," she whispered to him as they left. "Do you think it's wise speaking to her like that?"
"Wise? Necessary?" Thrask said nonchalantly. "Either way, she won't fire me. If that psychopath isn't getting the boot, I never will."
"Even if you testify?"
"I don't know. We will have to see."
He was still undecided, given the chance to do something good here, where it mattered more to him.
The truth was Meredith had tried to fire him before, plenty of times. She always withdrew her termination notice in the end, because, "I would rather work with a man of conviction, than a wishy-washy kiss-arse." She would never admit it in front of others. The truth, at least to Thrask, was that she really liked her wishy-washy kiss-arses. She just had a soft spot for him.
"Wouldn't it be better if we got rid of some arseholes instead? If not Alrik, then Vernhart or Pilsner. We haven't got to those guys yet."
Vernhart leaving would be a Maker-send, but he was senior staff. "Again, we will have to see."
Time 1÷0, Sundermount, The Fade
The meadow was a pocket of sunshine where the veil was very thin. Dark withering trees from the mortal world were streaking through rich green grass and thick flowering trees. The memory of an eluvian stood tall in-between. A huge comfort, this place was. A balm, forever protected from winter.
Firefly was a spirit of joy, who lived inside a tree. She wasn't exactly she. She had no gender. But things that brought joy were strangely imbibed with a feminine glow, and she liked to wear it on her sleeve. She adopted a feminine elven silhouette, her body made of leaves, her hair a canopy of crape myrtle blossoms, her body sash full of colourful butterflies, her green eyes sparkling with bliss and red eyeshadow. Happiness was the air she breathed, and happiness was everywhere if you looked hard enough. She breathed in the joy of mortals, and painted the Fade with as much of it as she could, until it shone bright in mortals' minds. She departed with her tree when her beloved called.
"Vhenan, a lost spirit is need of your council!" Kiss shouted melodiously. "But first—"
Kiss was a spirit of love. They were whatever gender they wanted to be, whenever, or none at all. At this time, he had an elven masculine silhouette, full of pink-red radiance in his wavy bob haircut and human gentleman's suit. He was taken with humans. They never tired of creating art dedicated to love, no matter how much pain and disappointment was collecting in the air. The fabric of love had many rips, and he was cheerleader to its seamsters.
He made his voice thick and deep, and started rocking.
Lord almighty,
I feel my temperature rising!
Higher and higher,
It's burning through to my so-o-oul!
Baby, baby, baby,
You're gonna set me on fire!
My brain is flaming
And I don't know—
"Kiss!" Firefly shouted happily, swirling out of the sylvian, leaving a trail of flowers behind her. She shot out and wrapped herself around him.
Pang was a demon of despair, and was too busy with all that to contemplate gender. They simply haunted the Fade, hiding and soaking in the cold springs of mortal tears. It was a terrible existence, even for them. For a long time, they convinced mortals to end all the pain, forever. It didn't leave them with many candidates for possession. Try as they might to merge with a mortal soul in the Gallows, most gave up on their life before striking a deal. Their mere presence was perhaps too convincing. Meanwhile, pricks of pride and dunderheads of desire dangled fear and hope in the eyes of mortals like professional psychopaths. With a snap of their long claws, they got to ride the mortal express. Pang had enough. It was too long a losing streak, even here, where time stood still. Fighting off all their natural instincts, Pang searched for a spirit of hope. It didn't go very well. Either spirits of hope were repelled by them, or there simply wasn't much hope around these parts. After much brooding and rumination and staring at slow drooping faucets, Pang said, "Fuck it" and paid a visit to Melancholy up the mountain, the only spirit they knew that would talk to them, because she did not give a fuck anymore. Like a cancer inside her, she was not quite demon, but demon enough.
"Melancholy," Pang said as they approached a big clump of dead leaves.
Melancholy did not wake. The dry and dark leaves merely willed themselves up into the shape of a sad and tired woman. She was in a deep fugue, and did not regard Pang.
"Wakey-wakey," Pang said, snapping their claw in front of her.
A cold gust of wind blew through Melancholy's dead leaves and Pang's thin rags. Melancholy stared up at the trees. Pang could feel the cold seeping in through the cracks in the Veil, through abandoned nests in hollows of trees, through the layers of clothing on nearby mortals. Winter was coming. There was going to be more work for Pang from now on.
"Do you remember the scent of your childhood?" Melancholy said, in barely more than a whisper.
"I… don't remember my childhood," Pang said. "I forgot all that nonsense."
"I am the opposite," Melancholy said with a little sad smile. "I remember everything. Even things I never knew."
"You mean mortals' memories?" Pang said.
"I remember the first slave I ever helped, a moment's respite with the one she'd always fancied, before they took up arms and joined the revolution. I remember the flowers in bloom at the first Divine's coronation. I remember the tears of joy in survivors' faces as they embraced each other, knowing they were no longer slaves. I remember the laughter of children in the streets of Kirkwall, before the ten-day civil war. I remember the warm winter night's fire in people's houses, crackling through the silence, when the bloodbath in the streets finally stopped. I remember the smile on Leandra Amell's face, when her lover showed up at the Docks, ready to flee with child. And… I remember the sadness in that grown child's eyes, when she landed in Kirkwall, surrounded by monuments of servitude and despair."
"Is that why you're like this?" Pang said, tilting their head. "Do you want to become a demon?"
"No," Melancholy said with a bitter chuckle. "I want to stay like this forever."
She would never let go of anything. What a strange way to spirit. But what did Pang know? They didn't remember how it was before, if there ever was a before.
"Until you become dust," Pang said, raising an icy eyebrow.
"Look at me," Melancholy whispered, shaking her head languidly. "I already am dust…"
What could Pang possibly get from this confused old spirit? It was just nostalgia. Cooped up under dying leaves, shaking… Terrible nostalgia. For herself. For mortals. For the world. It was too much to bear. She loved it.
"I am looking to… not be like you, or like me, possibly," Pang said unsurely. "If you remember your glory days, I am willing to listen."
"Leave me alone, spirit," Melancholy said, falling back into her pile of leaves. "I have to go to the parade with my girlfriends."
"What parade?" Pang said, confused.
"The Independence Day parade. Malcolm will be there, shooting spitballs into my hair-do," Melancholy said with a nostalgic smile.
She was just swimming in the past, in the deep; not living, but… living.
"Did Melancholy have any girlfriends?" Pang tried.
"Hm…" Melancholy said. There was a long, long silence. "I did… Her name was Firefly."
So, Pang gave Firefly a visit. She seemed friendly enough, as well as content and unburdened by the need to join the living. Pang resolved they could get something out of her. If not a chance to ascend, then at least some useful lessons about joy and how to use it in soul negotiations. Pang was nothing if not pragmatic.
Firefly and Kiss took a Fade minute to make out, hard. Rays of light and floating blossoms sparkled around them. Pang rolled their icy eyeballs.
"Miss," Pang said, popping their head next to them.
Kiss spun them, facing away from Pang, and dipped Firefly, continuing to plant his lips onto hers.
Pang went around them and loomed over her. "Miss—"
Kiss lunged them away again and raised Firefly.
"Miss," Pang said flatly, flying out in-between them. At this point, they were full of fallen petals sticking to their dark rags.
"Oh, hi," Firefly said, smiling. "I'm Firefly."
Kiss scoffed and crossed his arms. "Rude."
"Do not attempt to debate me on that, desperate prig," Pang said, looking over their shoulder. Their high-pitched voice left cold vapours in the air. "I am Pang," they said, looking back at Firefly.
Kiss shook his burning hand of love and obliterated the icy fumes like they were polluting the place.
"Perhaps we are all rude and should start again," Firefly offered with a giggle.
Kiss pulled up his sleeves exuberantly, taking a step forward. "With pleasure."
"No, no," Firefly said, raising her palm. Kiss slouched and pouted. "We can do that later," she said, her wink shooting a spark of joy flying to his lips. He was happy again. "What brings you here, demon?"
"I come in peace," Pang said calmly. "I was hoping to shadow you and witness your process."
"I admire your initiative, you sad shovel of snow," Kiss said with a smirk.
"Indeed," Firefly said happily. "If only more demons were like you, Pang."
"I am one of a kind," Pang said, curtseying with their filthy rags.
"There may be hope for you yet," Kiss said, winking. The pink-red sparkle of his eyelashes swirled around and gave Pang's forehead a kiss.
With a blank stare, Pang growled sulkily. They didn't know what they disliked more about Kiss—his sappiness or his 'humour'.
"Follow me!" Firefly said, flying into the middle of the meadow. With brilliant, graceful moves she spun around in the air. Slowly, the sunshine bowed to darkness, concentrating into tiny pockets of light everywhere in the trees. They started moving around, buzzing a melody with the sound of their flight. Firefly became adorned with them as she sang:
You would not believe your eyes
If ten million fireflies
Lit up the world as you fell asleep.
'Cause they fill the open air
And leave happiness everywhere!
You'd think me rude, but I would just stand and stare!
Some of the twinkly lights flew up and became birds, singing and dancing to her tune. The setting sun went behind her head like a halo, gleaming as she widened her arms apart. Kiss flew behind her, backing her song and dancing with her.
I'd like to make myself believe
That love and joy fly… freely!
It's hard to say that I'd rather stay a lady or a tree
'Cause everything is never as it seems!
Kiss spun her around rapidly, the fireflies exploding away into fireworks. They reshaped themselves into what they truly were—proto-spirits. A thousand wisps. The floating balls of light sent tethers to her leafy body like a flaring dress. They revolved around her, coming closer and closer, then rotating apart.
'Cause I'd get a thousand hugs
From ten million lightning bugs
As they tried to teach me how to dance!
A band of red-capped manakins started moonwalking down tree branches above her, while a peacock charmed Pang with his twirling tail below. The warm, dark light of the sunset enveloped Firefly and Kiss like a belt to join them together.
A manakin above my head
A peacock beneath my bed
A burning ball just hanging by a thread!
The lucent wisps rotated rapidly around them and exploded again into a soft, slow rain of fireflies. Some flew into the sky and became stars, while the sunlight dipped completely down below.
I'd like to make myself believe
That love and joy fly… freely!
I'd hard to say that I'd rather stay a lady or a tree
'Cause everything is never as it seems!
Then, an army of light came in the dark. The wisps shaped the Fade with happy memories of nearby mortals. The luminous silhouette of a pirate, having a mental orgasm as she sailed the open sea. A Fereldan knight tackling a young Templar to the ground with kisses, before he could finish proposing on one knee. A Dalish elf, taking flowers from a human garden in plain sight. A Chantry brother comforting those tormented by their sins. A Fereldan apostate letting a kitten climb on his head. A surface dwarf stealing kisses from a long-distance lover who will never marry him. Another dwarf crying with joy as he created a new and shiny rune while his father cheered him on. A mabari running wild with his partner. A noblewoman tripping and falling in a puddle from laughter, and a Circle mage joking that he made her swoon after all. A former slave dancing with a clown mage in a temple of colour. The same clown mage, surrounded by her friends and family.
To ten million fireflies
I'm weird 'cause I hate goodbyes
I got misty-eyed as they said farewell
The happy memories dispersed, and Pang's head fell back watching them fly away, warming the minds of other mortals.
But I'll know where several are
If your dreams get real bizarre
'Cause I saved a few and I keep them in a jar!
Firefly opened her jar of wisps and let them free. They lit the Fade with dreams of nearby mortals. The pirate getting her boat back, the knight, the lovelorn dwarf and the noblewoman moving on with their love lives, the Dalish elf getting back the lost remnants of her people. The Chantry brother unburdened by family problems, the cat-loving apostate seeing his people free, the happy dwarf making a perfect rune. The mabari living in a house made out of meat, the former slave truly free and happy with a family of his own, and the clown mage finding her lost daughter.
All of the fireflies dispersed again and rejoined the spirit's dress.
I'd like to make myself believe
That love and joy fly… freely!
I'd hard to say that I'd rather stay a lady or a tree
Because my dreams are bursting at the seems
And so, they did. With a shiver and quake, the dream wisps flew into the Fade, colouring it far and wide, until they were no longer visible.
Firefly and Kiss made out again, and forgot about their curious student.
"Ahem," Pang said, shaking a little so the remaining fireflies flew away from their frozen eyelashes.
"Right," Firefly said, flying back down in the grass. "What did you think?"
"A bit unoriginal, no?" Pang said, crossing their arms.
"Maybe mine is the original," Firefly said proudly, hands on her hips.
"Everyone knows it. It's a lullaby," Pang said, unimpressed.
"Well, I like it," Firefly said with a wide smile. She looked over her shoulder and applauded Kiss. He bowed proudly. "It brings me joy. What about you?"
Pang sighed, cold air coming out of their mouth. "I suppose it was pleasant."
"We'll take it," Kiss said, laughing.
"So nature and music bring joy to mortals," Pang said, brooding.
"Anything, really," Firefly said, shrugging. "The first warm day of the year, the first snow ever seen, the laughter of children, the comforting embrace of loved ones, the satisfying click when someone figures something out, the smile of the introvert when they get home."
"Or art," Kiss said proudly. "All manner of art based on the elements and on emotions."
"What about the darker emotions?" Pang said, chin in claw.
"If you can make something beautiful out of pain, why not?" Firefly said, shrugging. "Let me think…" she said, trying to remember a bittersweet song.
"My dear, do you feel it?" Kiss interrupted, raising his palm with his eyes closed.
Firefly closed her eyes and listened. "Yes."
"What?" Pang said, looking over their shoulder.
"A teachable moment!" Firefly said excitedly, flying away. "Follow me!"
Afternoon, Sundermount
Fenris threw the ball again tiredly, hiking up the mountain. He bought a boomerang too, and three back-up balls. He joked about it before, but he really did feel like Mojo was walking him. He didn't put up a fight, however. He needed the exercise. Sitting still only empowered pain, bodily or otherwise. That this crafty solution descended into workaholism filling his pockets with cash he could piss away on dog toys was merely a happy coincidence.
He reached a vast flat surface, where he remembered he did a silly dance with Hawke in the rain pretending to be children. Then they went to the edge of a cliff and shouted profanities. It was a bittersweet memory, given it followed the funeral. It felt like yesterday.
He threw the ball again, and started softly crooning the lizard song that had inspired this silliness in them. She liked it.
It's time I danced in the pouring rain…
Let that water wash my fear away…
It's time I let my little heart run wild…
It's time to love… it's time to love… just like a child…
There were two parts to this song, or two versions, sung one after the other. The first was sung in a melancholic key, the next in a triumphant one. It was more or less the same song, with slightly different lyrics. The first part touched a wound inside him. He wanted to do the second, happy part, but the way his voice decided to go, it just sounded too gloomy. He walked towards the cliff of profanities, defeatedly whispering the first melody. Mojo occasionally interrupted him so he'd throw the damn ball again, and he threw with as much enthusiasm as a wet towel. He was too focused now. He felt oddly fragile, letting those words come out of his mouth:
Can I forget just who I think I am?
Can I remember when I first dove in?
Can you believe I let my soul retire?
It's time to love… it's time to love… just like a child…
It took time to block out the sounds and feeling of the world around him, but once he did, it was like he was on a different wavelength. An inner wavelength, tied to something on the other end. His heart grumbled as he looked out on the vastness of the forest below. The look in his eyes was a mix of cartographer-like interest and the wonder of a six-year-old seeing the earth from below for the first time.
And what ever happened to the wilderness of my mind?
Where does the clover overgrow?
It was more than that. There was some kind of affection in him, resonating with the words. It sent a tiredness through his body, and he sat down on a tree stump. Mojo gave up on the game and sat down beside him like a wounded animal.
And why did I ever tell that little boy,
"Stop your crying!"
Wish I could go back and let him know…
Fenris bit his lip, overlooking the forest with longing and heartbreak.
It's okay…
It's okay…
It's okay, it's okay…
Unbeknownst to him, something otherworldly listened. Something resonated.
He rocked lazily, petting the dog. "I said dream… dream…" Fenris sang softly.
A sad softness caressed his heart. It didn't hurt so badly. It was comforting and bittersweet.
He looked down at the dog. Mojo looked so depressed.
"What did you think?" Fenris said.
Mojo whimpered loudly, and raised his head, letting his tongue out.
"Evidently… this is not your style," Fenris said. He groaned and smiled with saddened eyes towards the view, then decided to do the whole thing justice. He started tapping his thighs, and crooned the triumphant part for Mojo. And as soon as he did, the dog was up and jumping and barking towards the boomerang hanging from his pocket belt.
It's time I danced in the pourin' rain!
Let that water wash my fear away!
It's time I let my little heart run wild!
It's time to love! It's time to love! Just like a child!
It's time to love! It's time to love! Just like a child!
Time 1÷0, Sundermount, The Fade
"Kick it!" Firefly sang loudly, flying out from behind the mortal elf. Picking up on his happy memories, she reshaped herself into the elven man who sang this song, Merlin of Markham.
Kiss and Pang and the wisps followed her and picked up on the emotions too. Kiss turned into the other singer and human guitarist, Marion of Fereldan. Pang brooded for a while, then finally turned into the multi-instrumental elf, Poppy of Orlais, and the thousand wisps spun around and joined themselves into the Vashoth drummer, Neha of Ostwick.
All these people's lives, their emotions, their happiness and their hurt, were tied to a wondering fool on the outskirts of Kirkwall—Neha's bitter love for her betrayer, her struggle with her sexuality, her depression when she disappointed her parents by not securing the fragile Adaar line, the Vashoth line, in a human world. Marion's endless love for Poppy, her happiness in Orlais, her despair at the thought her and Poppy's dream of adopting wouldn't come true because the Chantry looked down on them. Poppy's love for music, her joy playing, her despair that she went so far, back in the day, into the aristocratic music scene, after so much work and training, having been adopted by a human violinist. She made it in the orchestras of Val Royeaux, and quickly crashed down and burnt out from how stressful it was to be an elf in a sea of nobles. They put her at the back, told her to hide her ears in her hair, made fun of her mannerisms, and never gave her the lead in any major production even though she was better than all those losers. Then there was Merlin—a true and total carriage-wreck of love, joy and despair. He needed this song. He needed to remember, every day, for the rest of his life, that despite the deep holes the people he had lost left inside him, there was so much good in there, in their memory. That he needed to love himself, and he needed to continue. For her, for them, for himself… maybe. One day. His hope was all there, in the music, beneath the pain of living, below all the apocalyptic feelings, in his vast and immense soul.
It gave Pang something to ponder on.
"Can I forget just who I think I am?!" 'Merlin' sang, backed up by 'Marion' and 'Poppy'. He walked alongside Fenris in silly swagger, who was busy finding the perfect spot to play boomerang.
"Oh!" the other 'members' sang.
"Can I remember when I first dove in?" 'Merlin' sang, spinning.
"Oh!"
"Can you believe I let my soul retire?!" 'Merlin' cried, widening his arms.
"It's time to love! It's time to love! Just like a child!" they all sang.
"Kick it!" 'Merlin' shouted, as Fenris threw the boomerang.
Mojo ran like the wind and jumped as high as a kite catching the boomerang.
"Good boy!" Fenris shouted, whose mortal light now shone bright in the Fade. He beckoned to him. "Come on. I will do you one better!"
This time he threw it so hard it landed past the river, past the stepping stones.
"Venhedis," Fenris said, darkness and rage painting around him.
Mojo did not give a damn. His light burned like a beacon. With a little slip, he jumped from stone to stone.
"It's time to dreaaaaaaam on!" they all sang, following the mortals. "It's time to dreaaaaaaam on, yeah! It's time to dreaaaaaaam on!"
"It's time I danced in the pouring rain…" 'Merlin' sang, making it shower in the Fade. "Let that water wash my fear away…" he sang, jumping on the stepping stones. "It's time to let my little heart… run wild…" He stopped in the middle, his hair wet in a beaming smile. "It's time to love! It's time to love! Just like a child!"
'Marion' and 'Poppy' surrounded him on neighbouring stepping stones and backed him up. They all became smaller and smaller, mere children versions of themselves. "It's time to love! It's time to love! Just like a child!"
"Kick it!" 'Merlin' shouted, and they all spun and danced stupidly, as the mortal elf jumped straight through them from stone to stone.
On the other side of the river, the mortal elf threw the boomerang very high, and it flew back in his direction. Mojo was running backwards and bulldozed straight into the mortal elf, and they both fell.
"Venhedis!" Fenris said, laughing. There was joy as well as rage shining out of him. Mojo licked his face and he kept trying to get him off. "Stop! Stop it! Bad Mojo! Maker, do you even have a password? Pftuh!"
It's time to play! It's time to play! Just like a child!
It's time to scream! It's time to scream! Just like a child!
The mortal elf stood up, wiping his face and shaking his head. He stumbled upon Firefly's meadow, and threw the boomerang so high it landed in her tree. A dangerous height to retrieve it.
"My dear, perhaps a shake of your tree is in order?" 'Marion' said in-between singing.
"No. Watch," 'Merlin' said.
The mabari was whimpering loudly, agitatedly. The mortal elf sighed and said, "If I die, it is your fault." He climbed up the tree from branch to higher branch, his anxiety palpable.
It's time to dreaaam on! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!
It's time to dreaaam on! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!
The mortal elf almost had it. He was on the branch below where the boomerang of dog happiness was stuck. He trembled as he rose on two feet and held onto the trunk, his other arm reaching for the boomerang. A gust of cold wind unbalanced him, and he fell. He caught onto a branch, swung all the way around it. A sudden light burst out of him. He swung again, stopping above to change direction with his arms. Another burst of light around him. He swung yet again, and landed on his feet, squatting on the branch.
"Oh, shit," Fenris said, his eyes big. His surprise and confusion were repelled by the sylvian, but the child-like shot of happiness seeped through it like tree sap.
"Oh, shiiit," Firefly said, becoming herself again on the stepping stones. Her eyes were coming out of her sockets. "Follow me!" she told the others.
Kiss and Pang followed, while the wisps outflew them and became women and girls of all races save dwarven. They wore flower crowns and flower necklaces, brown vests and skirts with red and blue piping, and wings made out of big leaves were attached along their arms. They started taking positions as they harmonised for Firefly, who was singing in a foreign language. No, not just one foreign language. There was Tevene, Elvhen, Qunlat and common tongue. They were all mixed into a foreign dialect. The spirits understood some of it, but on the whole, they understood it through the emotion behind the words. It sounded something like this:
Long live her majesty Mother Nature
Her daughter Seheron and her many isles!
Here on the Phantom Island she smiles
So widely it stretches for miles and miles
"Oh, I see," Kiss said, completely fascinated. "Let's go, Pang. Give into the flow."
"It's hardcore!" Firefly shouted.
"Super hardcore!" Kiss shouted happily.
Pang sighed. "Alright…"
Kiss turned into a human boy, a teenager, wearing the same kind of garments with trousers, except the crown and necklace were only made of leaves. Pang turned into a young oxman. Kiss went at the back of the dancers, on the left, while Pang went right in the middle, towering over the others. Firefly came in front, waiting for the mortal elf to get down from her tree.
Kiss and Pang war-cried to a building drum beat.
When the mortal elf got down, Firefly spun around, and became what she was vaguely aware of to be Rhys, a very tall elven man with brown hair in the same style as the mortal elf. He had kind hazel eyes, a big mouth and a tan complexion, as did most of them. He started singing alone to the mortal elf, each line followed by a war-cry from the boys:
Oh, boys and girls, look far and wide
We are free, we are the breath of the earth!
Look to the moons with thanks and pride
Look to the sun for all its warmth!
Everyone danced in unison with so much discipline it painted an illusion of smoothness and ease. They lunged and clapped and widened their arms; they tapped their thighs and spun around. The mortal elf was wobbling and staring up at the trees with a dumb-founded expression.
'Rhys' continued singing, with the additional war-cry from the boys, surrounding the mortal elf with a paternal smile. He took off his leaf crown, necklace and his wings and adorned the unwitting mortal, as new ones grew out and replaced his own.
Burning bright with peace and love
He watches and embraces his kids
Mother Nature below and above
And all our mothers amidst
The mortal elf closed his eyes, his foot starting to tap to the rhythm. The women and girls started singing triumphantly with the others, a strong wind animating the mortal to take his rightful place; the back right. Suddenly, a new reality was seeping out from the tall mirror. The fabric of the meadow was painted over by gleaming translucent façades wrapped in coiling vines and climbing ivy. Inside the tower, a huge replica of the sun hung in the centre, an elevator of sorts. The setting sun refracted through it, making it seem as though it was shining. They danced on a flat stone surface, in-between a vast trail of stairs leading up to the tower, and, below, to a mass of swaying people holding torches, behind myriad of treehouses.
Bring forth the new kingdom, the island of peace,
Adorn her in feathers of freedom far and wide,
In beautiful flowers and a thousand leaves,
In the embrace of the fog and the tide!
The boys tapped their opposite shoulders and held their wings wide as they war-cried. Then, slowly, they and 'Rhys' kneeled. The women and girls sang and danced alone, going around every male to adorn them with flowers in their leaf crowns and necklaces. An oxman in the crowd left angrily.
Oh, boys and girls, look far and wide
We are free, we are the breath of the earth!
Look to the moons with thanks and pride
Look to the sun for all its warmth!
After the first line, 'Rhys' war-cried. After the second, the human Kiss did as well. After the third, oxman Pang roared proudly, and with the last, mortal Fenris let a big one out. Only, by this point, he was no longer Fenris. His voice hadn't even dropped. He was a dark-haired pre-teen, trying not to smile.
Then, slowly, 'Rhys' and the boys got back on their feet and sang:
Long live her majesty Mother Nature
Her daughter Seheron and her many isles!
With a sudden clap and swing, they danced with the women and lifted up the little girls. Everyone did. They sang the chorus once more, putting the children on their shoulders, and coming together hand in hand. They shouted proudly and stomped their feet:
Long live our families! Stand tall!
And with that, there was a strange silence. A low hum crept inside. They saw the dust move from the memory of the eluvian. It was an inaudible song, inside them all. A great bass sigh in the basement of the soul. Slowly, it built, until the air around them started to vibrate. The mirror started shaking, glass shards peeling off from the top. The glass of the towers quaked too, shards crumbling down. In the distance, an enemy army was nearing.
"What's going on here?" Kiss said, afraid.
"I don't know. Something's not right," Firefly said.
The slight rattle of crystal clattering grew louder and louder.
"Despair," Pang said, unable to get their eyes off. "It will devour everything."
"You're doing this?" Firefly said, covering her ears.
"No," Pang said flatly, looking around.
All the dancers ran away, except for the mortal elf. He stood there, inside the looming wreckage, knowing what was coming. The darkness came out of the sky, swallowing the crowd, until nothing remained. Then, out of the blackness, young wolf-headed shadows came out. They ran up the stairs, and beat him to the ground. Then, out of nowhere, an oxgirl teenager with dark shoulder-length curly hair came and vanquished them.
"You shouldn't have done that!" the mortal elf cried and sobbed. "You shouldn't have done any of it!" he wailed in her chest, holding her by the waist as they sat on the ground.
"You can't change the past," the girl said. "This will always happen."
"It's all my fault!" he cried.
"It is," she said, parts of her crumbling down. "You did this to me."
With a screeching rattle, she cracked and fell apart.
Above and below them, the bass grew, like the jaws of an invisible giant, gnawing on the Fade. A great roar, the vault of the sky twisting above, glass shattering all around him… It was coming down.
"Mama!" he roared in agony. "Varania! You need to ru—"
"Forget," Pang said, touching the mortal's forehead.
And then it stopped. Totally and utterly—as if nothing ever happened. Only the spirits' ears rang from the shock. They stared at Pang.
"Sorry to interrupt…" Pang said, scratching their head. "It was getting… too hardcore."
Firefly and Kiss just stood there, speechless.
"No… uhm… you… you did well," Firefly said in a small voice.
"How much did you make him forget?" Kiss said, worried.
"Everything after he came in the meadow," Pang said.
"Thank you…" Firefly said, kneeling in front of the mortal elf, who was sitting up and getting licked by the mabari. He laughed and pushed him away. "Let this only be a happy memory."
Musical inspirations: Burning Love by Wynona, Fireflies by Owl City, Just like A Child (Piano Demo & main) by Mother Mother, and completely made-up lyrics on the score of He Mele No Lilo by mark Keali'I Ho'omalu (from Lilo & Stitch).