Where Home Isn't
by Cryptographic DeLurk
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The door broke open after only a few raps against its wooden panels, and Marian Hawke was left wondering if she'd really knocked so hard, or if the hinges simply were that fragile. She hesitated, hiking the paper bag she held in the crook of her shoulder, before deciding Merrill would probably wouldn't mind the intrusion. Or would mind it less than coming home to a broken door and empty room at any rate. So she angled the door aside, balancing it against the frame, and entered.
She assumed, after all that commotion, she wouldn't walk inside to find the room occupied. But Merrill was there – latching a large chest in the back left corner and hurrying to plant her behind atop it and hide whatever was inside.
Merrill turned her head up and blinked at Hawke with wide, green eyes and an aloof expression. And Marian thought again that Merrill's neck was rather long, and matched something long and gangly about her limbs. And perhaps elves were just like that, because it wasn't as if she'd had cause to spend much time with any of them in Lothering. But there were something oddly likeable about it, if not exactly pretty.
Merrill blinked a few more times. "Oh, I did invite you to visit, didn't I?" Hawke watched the moment she began to fret. "I didn't think you'd come. Especially not so soon. I'll find something relatively clean for you to sit on."
The room was empty in its entirety, but for the chest and thin walls of painted plywood that separated this from the next room over, but did a poor job holding back the draft.
"There's maybe a clean bit of floor," Merrill was saying. "Or…" She let out a sigh and scooted sideways on the chest. She patted the space next to her. "You can sit here. If you like."
Marian came and sat.
"Can I get you something to eat or drink? I have…" Merrill's eyes scanned the room, and flitted to closet where Marian assumed the spigot was. "...water," Merrill concluded uneasily. "Oh, my first guest and I'm already a terrible host… I wanted to thank you for bringing me here, but I'm making a mess of it."
"It's alright," Marian said. And then grimaced, because she hadn't meant to agree with Merrill by implication. Nothing for it but to blaze forward. "I brought food," she said. "Just some fish sausage and pickles they were selling at the dock. I haven't tried it before. But I thought we could share."
Merrill smiled – a small limp thing – and nodded as Marian dug through the paper bag and offered her a sausage and pickled cabbage wrapped in wax paper. It was a strange thing to eat with no utensils, and Merrill picked them up by long nails that had scabs in the corners.
Merrill got through about four bites with an increasingly pinched face, before she gagged and let the rest of the sausage fall to the floor as she covered her mouth.
Marian had to agree, as she swallowed the rest of her own sausage whole to avoid tasting it. "I hadn't quite expected it to be so salty… or smelly… We didn't get much fish in Lothering, or from the other farmsteads."
Merrill coughed. "I suppose you don't get the freshest food here… It's alright. I appreciate the thought."
Marian shuffled the paper bag in her hand. Now unsure what to do with it. The neighbours next door were having an argument. And there were footsteps on the ceiling from the elves upstairs. The alienage tenements were not very quiet at all.
"I broke your door," Marian said.
Merrill blinked. "Oh? What? Oh!" Merrill's eyes finally latched onto the entryway, and she seemed to calm. "I'm used to not having one anyhow."
Marian was not quite sure what to say to this, but Merrill seemed sensitive to her unease.
"It's not too broken anyhow," Merrill hurried to reassure. "Not so broken that someone wouldn't know how to fix it, right? Not like some things."
This, if anything, seemed to leave things on a more uncomfortable note. Marian thought she might change the subject.
"Do you like Kirkwall so far?"
Merrill's cheeks puffed. "Oh, well… Not really…" she admitted. "But that's not very fair. I haven't really had the chance to look around yet. And making friends is… tricky…" She lifted her legs so they were off the floor, and stretched. "I haven't got an appointment with the Hahren, or what they call a Hahren here, until next week. And every day I think I'm going to unpack and go look for food and furnishings. And then I'll notice a mouse in the wall or a shadow outside the door, and half the day is gone and the sun is setting and the neighbours are shouting and I haven't done anything."
Marian thought about this and then, quite suddenly, came to a decision. "We should go out," she decided, dropping the paper bag and grasping Merrill's arm. "Kirkwall's not so bad, really. You'll see that, once you've been around a bit. And maybe unpacking will be easier, after that."
Merrill seemed rather startled, but she eased herself off the trunk and let Hawke pull her to the broken door. It wasn't until they were out into the hall that she protested. "Wait!"
Marian dropped her arm, hit suddenly with her own self consciousness. She had been too forward, and she should have known, and-
Merrill bent down to observe the floor by the door jamb and, after a moment reached for the knife at her belt. She cut into her fingers and drew symbols into the wood and whispered in her own language, until vines sprouted and a shining barrier shimmered and faded across the entrance to the room.
"There are wards that a Keeper knows." Merrill's gaze was rooted to the floor as she stood and replaced the knife at her belt. "It would be bad if someone found the Eluvian… Only, oh, I probably shouldn't have said that. If you don't mind putting it out of your mind."
"Alright," Marian said, because she didn't mind. And, after a moment, Merrill turned her great green eyes back up, and offered Marian her arm again.
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.
"This is the Market District," Marian said, spreading the arm that wasn't latched to Merrill ahead of them at the crowd – all haggling, bartering, yelling. "You mentioned needing to look for food. Well, you can always find some here." The lie made Marian sweat. "On Tuesdays and Thursdays after the big shipments from Ansburg and Ostwick come into the docks, at least," she amended. "Flour and fruit run out the quickest. And everything else is thin on the ground by Monday."
Marian turned to look for Merrill's reaction.
It was a difficult thing to discern. Merrill had turned her head down to the ground, and was scratching under where Marian had grasped her arm. She lifted her head, and blinked at the crowd – slow at first and then with increasing rapidity – before looking back down again.
"Here," Marian said softly. "I'll show you around."
She walked Merrill through the crowd, pointing out different merchants and stands – Martin and his contraband, the Weaponsmithy, Virginia's stand with the earrings and other trinkets. Marian's eyes passed a bit wistfully over Lirene's Ferelden Imports, which she liked and disliked because it reminded her a little too much of home and heartbreak. In the end she failed to mention it to Merrill.
She hadn't realised there was a problem until she had a dwarf practically shouting down her ear. She looked back to find Merrill with an orange clutched to her chest with a startled expression.
"Oh, no, you can't get away with playing stupid now!" the dwarf was saying. "It's ten coppers if you don't want me to call the guard! Not the first sticky-fingered knife ear they'd have to detain today."
Merrill's face was blank.
The dwarf opened his mouth to yell. "Guar-!"
"Now, there's no need for that," Marian said hastily. "Coppers, Merrill?"
"Copper – it's a metal in your language, right?" Merrill asked, seeming more comfortable to speak with Marian than the angry dwarf. "Are there multiples of them?"
"Coins," Hawke clarified.
Merrill's lips pursed into a small 'o'.
Marian let go of Merrill to dig for her purse, which had nowhere near the fifty sovereigns she needed for the Tethras family and would now have ten coppers less.
The dwarf took the coppers with a fierce sneer and a comment under his breath about soft-headed dog lords.
Marian walked them further through the market, in silence this time, but she couldn't help but look back to where Merrill dawdled behind, frowning down at the orange. And, finally, Merrill looked up and caught her at it.
"I'm not a fool. Or a child. I know what coin is," she said defensively. "Only the Keeper told us that if we ever found any, we were to bring it straight to Master Ilen. So I've never really handled any before… I didn't realise people used it for things as small as…" Merrill held up the orange and named it in Elvhish.
"Do you not have any coin?" Marian asked.
Merrill's ferocious pout seemed to answer that question.
"It's alright," Marian hurried to assure. "We'll find you some work, so you can earn some."
Merrill did not seem entirely satisfied with this. But she relaxed a bit as she followed Marian around the Market District.
"Oh, it's so big, and all the white clay look the same," Merrill fretted. "How does anyone find their way?"
"Well, you see it's-" Marian bit her lip. "I'll show you."
She pulled Merrill through the rest of the Market District circuit, and then walked partway back the way they came. "This is the way back to the alienage, where we came from," Marian said. "And this…" She pulled Merrill brusquely a few blocks northeast. "And this is only a few blocks away from the alley next to my house."
She pulled Merrill into the alley, where a few human children were playing ball – supervised by a man in a mossy green tunic.
"See?" Marian smiled. She let go of Merrill's arm and collapsed against the wall on one side of the alley.
Merrill leaned against the opposite wall, and Marian watched her as she unpeeled the orange and pulled the segments apart with delicate movements of long fingers.
They watched one another, and the game of ball ricocheting through the alley. And it was peaceful for a moment until a hooded figure approached the man in green and, without any warning at all, drove a knife through his stomach.
The man screamed and collapsed. The children screamed and scattered.
"Oh, shit! Oh, shit!" Marian said, as she hastened to grab Merrill's arm and drag her away from the hooded figured and towards the relative safety of Gamlen's hovel.
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"Did we just see someone get shanked?!" Merrill seemed unusually bubbly. "Oh, this is very exciting!" She looked down at her hand, where she had dropped the orange peel and squeezed the remainder of the fruit to a soggy lump of pulp. "Oh, Creators. I've made a mess." She began licking the juice off her fist. "I was going to offer you some, but I suppose it's too much of a puddle now."
Marian was busy trying to catch her breath and regain her composure. She watched Merrill, who was humming a bit to herself as she licked the sac of pulp off her palm.
Yes, Marian could still salvage this. She reached up and brushed the hair out of her face.
"So this is my place… My home is yours," she laughed awkwardly. "You're free to drop by if you ever need anything. Or want anything. I mean-"
"More letters came while you were out!" Gamlen interrupted, shouting from the side room. "Is this my home or yours?!"
Marian let out a weary sigh. "Not now, Uncle! I've got company."
"Oh, do you?!" he continued to shout. "Why don't you move in your whole company?! Sure that would please your mother!"
"Uncle!"
"I suppose you always were popular, Sister." Carver had to duck down to fit under the bedroom door frame. "I hope you haven't brought-" he looked up and promptly cut off. "Oh, Merrill…"
Merrill smiled slightly.
Marian glared as Carver ducked his head and scratched sheepishly at his hair.
"I- I didn't expect you'd be by Merrill," he was saying. "Not that I'm not happy you're here!"
"Not that I'm not happy to be here," Merrill replied in a tone Marian couldn't quite decipher.
It seemed Carver couldn't quite figure it out either. He laughed anxiously, puffed up his shoulders, and then seemed to deflate. "I just- You're always welcome, if you need anything… My house is your house, you know."
"Hawke said that, too," Merrill said.
"O-Oh," Carver grimaced. "Did she?"
"Oh, no," Merrill hurried to assure. "I only meant-" She muttered something in Elvhen. "You're very like one another. All the same habits. It's cute."
"Cute?" Carver flushed a terrible red.
"It's cute," Marian repeated. "'It's cute,' she said. Not 'You're cute'."
"Right," Carver said. "Because actually I'm much more suave. Or- or-" He seemed to lose steam halfway through his bragging.
"Eloquent?" Marian filled in.
"How about handsome?" Carver glared.
"I wouldn't think you'd want your sister calling you handsome." Marian tisked.
"You know that wasn't what I meant."
"I wouldn't pay him too much attention, Merrill," Marian said breezily.
Merrill seemed confused, and she blinked rapidly between them. She seemed to disregard this last statement. "Hawke was showing me where all the carts with the food and the shouting people were, and how to find her house from there."
Carver squinted. "Are you talking about the Market?"
"I showed her the Market," Marian agreed.
"Oh, well, I could show you the Market," Carver hurried to say. "Or, um, wherever. Since you've already seen it." He worried at his lower lip. "I know! You asked about 'swording' earlier, right? I don't mind showing you."
"That's our little, Carver," Marian said. "The 'swording' master. Always 'swording' in the middle of the night when the rest of us are trying to sleep."
"Maker! It was one time, Marian!" Carver hissed, before quickly turning back to Merrill. "I mean if you'd like to handle a sword?" he asked.
Merrill's eyes panned sideways inscrutably.
Carver seemed to take it as encouragement. "I mean- Right? Shall I? Ow!"
Marian jabbed a hand up under his chin. "What are you doing?!" she demanded.
"I'm just being friendly," Carver whined.
"Well, you weren't being all that friendly the other day, where her magic was concerned," Marian said under her breath.
"Maker, what's your problem, Marian?!" Carver pushed her away.
Marian decided to go for the jugular. "How about my problem is a little someone called Peaches?!" she hissed.
"You wouldn't," Carver said.
They each ran for the writing desk, where Hawke had stashed the letter from Peaches, and were so busy bickering, they missed entirely that Gamlen had strode into the room and sauntered up to Merrill.
"So it's elves for them, huh?" He looked Merrill up and down, as Merrill stared blankly back at him. "With the tattoos and everything…" His face broke into a lecherous grin. "I've heard the Dalish don't wear underthings, right? Any truth to that? I've always wondered."
Merrill looked down at the floor, and shuffled on her feet as Gamlen drew closer. She picked at a fingernail, until the cuticle bled.
Gamlen became entranced on the drop of blood, and turned his head to follow it up as Merrill raised her hand.
"If you really want to know about the People," she said guilelessly, "I could teach you a few things. If you'd like."
Marian pushed Carver aside, and rushed to grab Merrill by the shoulders before things could get any worse.
"On second thought, don't come by my place," Marian said, as she steered Merrill back out the door. "We'll be leaving," she decided. "Don't wait up."
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Marian was panting by the time she reached the top of the steps. She stepped to the side, out of the way of the passers-by in Viscount's Way, and braced herself against her knees as her lungs shuddered for air.
Even if the steps to Hightown never failed to wind Marian, she had thought herself in pretty good shape. But Merrill soot beside her waiting, breath even and mild, and Marian felt very embarrassing and uncool by comparison to her companion. She wondered if there was some trick to it, or if Merrill really had just been walking back and forth forests and up and down mountains for longer than Marian could understand.
Marian forced herself up. "I think I'm good. Alright. Ready to go!" she announced, between deep inhales.
Merrill startled a little, like her mind had been far off, and gave Hawke one of those ever-so-slight smiles.
"It's just a little further," Marian said, stepping forward. She tucked Merrill's arm under her shoulder, because it seemed right to shield her from the critical stares of those in Hightown. "You've met her before, when we came to Sundermount. But I thought it would be good if you knew where she was in case-" Marian floundered for the words. There were a lot of reasons a guard might be good to know, but none of them seemed like cheery scenarios to entertain. "Just in case," Marian decided.
There was an entrance to the guard barracks at the rear of the Keep. Marian wiggled the handle to the ladies' wing, and then wiggled a knife in the lock, and then pounded on the door until someone came to answer.
The answering guardswoman seemed wary. "Hawke," she identified.
"Sergeant Melindra!" Marian beamed. "Is Aveline in?"
"Yeah, you'll find her by her bunk." Melindra stepped aside and nodded her head to the back. "She's getting ready for her shift though, and in a mood." She watched Marian hurry inside and narrowed her eyes at Merrill following at her back, but said nothing as they made their way through the barracks – successive rooms of nothing but bunk beds and wardrobes against opposite walls, making implicit corridors down the centre of the room.
Aveline was by her own bed and wardrobe. She had donned her plate armour, but for her gauntlets, and was tying her long, red hair back. She looked over her shoulder. "Hawke," she acknowledged brusquely. "My shift's about to start."
"Aveline," Marian smiled wryly. "I know. Melindra already told me."
Aveline huffed. "I didn't send for you, Hawke."
"I was just showing Merrill around Kirkwall." Marian stepped to one side of aisle, so Aveline might see Merrill better. "You remember her, from Sundermount."
Merrill startled to attention, face snapping forward from where it was gazing over the rows of bunk beds. "Oh," she blinked. "It's good to see you again."
"Likewise, Merrill," Aveline said. Although she did not sound entirely enthusiastic about it.
"I like how you have the bedrolls," Merrill said. "All stacked… It reminds me a little of the forests in Ferelden. It wasn't the same in the plains, or like here at Sundermount. But in the forest sometimes we would string bedrolls up into the trees – the healthiest ones whose branches weren't too brittle – and then you had to climb to get in and out of them." Merrill made a sound that wasn't quite a laugh. "The children always really liked it…" Something uneasy crossed her face. "So did I."
"…Right," Aveline acknowledged awkwardly as she tucked her hair into her bandanna.
Marian nodded excitedly. It was good everyone was getting along. "Aveline is a member of Kirkwall's Guard," she informed Merrill. "That means it's her job to set things right, in case anything goes wrong. So if anyone gives you any trouble here in the city, you can run to Aveline and she'll set them straight."
"That's, er, very-" Merrill smiled a bit sadly.
"Hawke, can I speak to you privately for a moment?" Aveline said.
"Um, alright," Marian agreed.
Nobody moved for a moment, and then Aveline levelled a frown sideways at Merrill.
Marian felt a little confused, looking between them.
"Oh!" Merrill startled. "Oh, I- Don't mind me then. I'll just be…" She stepped a few paces back, and then turned around to give them privacy.
Aveline sighed. "Hawke, I didn't send for you."
"I know," Marian said, "but I just thought-"
"You thought nothing," Aveline interrupted. "I told you not to show up when I haven't sent for you and it's not an emergency."
"It's kind of an emergency," Marian disagreed. "I needed to show Merrill-"
"You're an apostate," Aveline hissed under her breath. "You're an apostate, and only a week out from under Mereen besides. And I've told you before – it's not safe."
Marian looked down at the floor of the guard barracks – cold, swept tile. She knew that already. She did-
Aveline sighed. "I owe you my life, Hawke. But I don't know if I can protect you if Jevan finds out. And I certainly can't promise to protect her."
Aveline's eyes flicked sideways behind Marian, and Marian turned to look.
Merrill had climbed up the ladder to a second bunk, and appeared to be spying at some guardswoman's romance novels laid out over the sheets.
Marian turned back to Aveline. "Look, she's harmless! You can't-"
"She's not, Hawke. You saw her fight those demons at Sundermount, and you know she's not." Aveline sighed again, and reached for her gauntlets. "I have my shift… Look, I like her. I like you," she reassured brusquely. "I do what I can. Wait for me to send for you."
Marian sighed. "We'd best be going, Merrill."
Aveline shooed them forward out of the barracks, and parted ways at the entrance with only a brusque nod.
Marian was left scuffing her shoes against the pavement, as she walked back to the stairs down Kirkwall.
Merrill lingered behind, and Marian hadn't quite expected her to say anything when she very suddenly did. "Sorry," she said, in a clear chiming voice. But she winced, when Hawke looked back at her. "It didn't go how you'd have liked, lethallan…"
Marian sighed. Hands in her pockets. Sulked. "No."
Merrill nodded understandingly.
"I'm the one that should be sorry," Marian said. "I thought she'd-"
"It's alright," Merrill said. "I'm an elf. So I didn't really expect anything, but-" She bit a worry line into her lip. "Humans really don't get along with their mages, do they?"
"No," Marian agreed. But that gave her an idea. Maybe there was someone else she'd be better off introducing Merrill to. "I know who might be of some help," she announced. "Let's head back down the steps."
.
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"He's a bit unkempt, I know," Marian said. "And smelly… But he's a really good healer. With a strong sense of… justice…" Marian bit her lip. "And he's a friend to all the mages in Kirkwall. And the poor. So you can always come here for healing or if there are problems with the Templars. Even if he's a little…" Marian fluctuated her spread hand back and forth a little to indicate a general defect of personality she didn't otherwise know how to convey.
"You know I can hear every thing you're saying?" Anders said.
"Hi, Anders," Marian acknowledged.
Anders grumbled moodily, and went back to washing his hands in a basin of muddy grey water. He worried a washcloth over the bony joints of them, set it aside, shook his hands dry, and then let them burst momentarily in a blaze of flames. Whether to dry them or kill the last of the germs, Marian wasn't sure.
It was something Marian had decided she liked about Anders, same as Merrill. The way they reached for their magic second nature – like it never occurred to them to hide it or that it could be hidden. Not like Marian, who had shrouded herself in a whole host of identities to detract from mage.
"I thought it might be nice if you knew there was another mage you could go to in the case of… magey issues," Marian decided.
"You're a mage?" Anders's left eyebrow arched with interest, as he turned to study Merrill more acutely.
Merrill pursed her lips, said something in Elvhish Marian wasn't able to catch, and then in the common tongue. "Yes, I was first to the Keeper in my clan."
"I haven't seen a Dalish elf since I came to Kirkwall," Anders said ponderously, stroking at the stubble on his face. "Do you know a Velanna?"
Merrill's expression was uncharacteristically stern. "We don't all know one another."
Anders didn't seem to be listening. "Velanna used to toss fireballs at me whenever I asked questions." He was gathering a set of herbs and tonics from beside the washbasin. "Maybe you can tell me – is it true the Dalish don't wear anything under-?"
Anders startled as Marian let out a manic fit of laugher, entirely for the purpose of covering up whatever he intended to say next.
Merrill frowned and reached up a hand to pinch her nose shut.
"So..." she seemed to force herself to say, "you're a student of the Vir'Hanines? A healer?"
Anders's lip wobbled and pulled into a confused looking frown. "I'm a Spirit Healer, yes. With secondary focus on Creation and Primal magic."
Merrill looked at him with wide eyes and a blank expression.
"He's a healer," Marian clarified.
"It's too bad that man in the alley didn't know where to find him," Merrill mused absently. "The one with the beautiful green cloak."
"Find me?!" Anders seemed a little panicked, as he balanced tonics and salves on a small tray. "Why?! Who was looking for me?!"
"Oh, no one, Anders," Marian hurried to reassure. "Just someone we saw get stabbed earlier."
"It was very exciting!" Merrill nodded eagerly. "But a little sad."
Anders snorted a sound between relief and irritation. "Just another gang war in Lowtown, for all we know. Kirkwall might be better off without him."
Marian smiled. "Harsh words for someone who will treat anyone who comes to his door."
Anders flushed and grumbled as he lifted the tray. "What about you?" he directed at Merrill. "Are you a healer?" He seemed to perk up at the thought. "If you are and have the time, it might be nice to have another mage to help at the clinic. Or fight the injustices of the Circle."
Merrill said she wasn't a healer.
"Oh." Anders frowned. He took a moment to balance his tray against his hip. And as he took this time to ponder, his frown slowly turned to a scowl. "Would you quit that?!" he said irritably, pointing to where Merrill had pinched her nose shut. "You're being very rude, you know. It doesn't smell that bad in here."
Merrill blinked disbelievingly, either from the implication that she was the one being rude, or the implication that the Darktown clinic didn't smell like vomit, rancid seawater, and chokedamp long since settled into the walls.
"I had better get these to my patients." Anders nodded. "Always a pleasure to see you, Hawke." He didn't say anything more, before striding out to the main part of the clinic.
Marian waited a few moments before speaking. "That could have gone better," she admitted, more to herself than anything.
Merrill had left her nose pinned shut, and one of her eyes had begun to water from the fumes. At least Marian didn't think she was distressed. She hoped.
"Can we leave?" Merrill whispered. "It really does stink down here."
"Like a flatulent Mabari?" Marian asked.
"Like a bog." Merrill smiled, a real one, behind stinging eyes and the hand pinching her nose.
"Yeah," Marian agreed, a little breathless. "Let's get out of here."
.
.
They took the mine shaft from Darktown up to the docks, which stank only a little less, but had a much clearer view of the sunset and the Waking Sea.
This was bad because it was almost nightfall, and Marian had walked Merrill around all day and, in doing so, failed to connect her with any resources or show her anything good about Kirkwall. But it was also maybe good, because this view was perhaps the best thing Marian had to share. She directed Merrill forward, and they leaned against the side of a warehouse and looked at the sun splintering across water as it sunk low in the sky.
And Marian was just about to ask Merrill what she thought of the view, when Merrill spoke up herself.
"Do you think they're meant to be elves?" Merrill was squinting at a particular point in the harbour, by the entrance to the Gallows.
Oh, no.
"Do you mean the-"
"The statues," Merrill clarified, pointing so that there could be no mistake she was talking about The Twins. "It doesn't look like they have pointed ears. But they're slaves, so you'd think it would make the most sense if they were elves."
Merrill said this as if it were a point of cultured debate, rather than another symbol of how deeply unwelcoming this place had been and continued to be for the both of them and-
"Alright. You're right. You're right." Marian buried her face in her hands. "I wanted to make you feel comfortable and help you settle in. But- But Kirkwall really is that bad. It's a terrible city. It doesn't get better. And- And-" Marian let her hands down and screamed. "I hate it! I hate this city! I hate Lowtown and Hightown! I hate living with Uncle Gamlen! And I hated working with Meeran! I hate how everyone is treated! And I hate that I have to pretend to like it for Mother, or for Aveline, or the dwarf sponsoring the Deep Roads Expedition!"
When Marian turned, Merrill was looking at her with rather startled expression. And Marian should have stopped, but instead she sniffled and kept going. "I miss Ferelden. I miss Lothering. I miss Bethany."
Something like determination set on Merrill's face. "I know, lethallan." (Which was a blighted stupid thing to say, Marian thought, when she had never even told Merrill about Bethany.) "I know," Merrill said. "I miss it too. But we can't go back."
Marian sniffled. "Yeah…" she agreed.
Merrill looked down at her hands and picked at her nails the way she did. And Marian mirrored her image for a moment.
"I'm sorry," Marian said. "I wish I could have brought you some place nicer than this… I wanted to cheer you up, not-" The words caught in Marian's throat.
"Oh, no, lethallan. I'm-"
Merrill rushed in, and it wasn't clear to Marian if she'd leaned down, or Merrill scrambled up her side, clawing at her biceps. She pressed a quick kiss to Marian's cheek, before settling back down on her heels.
Marian felt herself flush and lifted a hand to cup her cheek.
"I think-" Merrill's voice was determined again. "I think I'm finally ready to go home and unpack my things," she said. "This is a bad place but- I think I can do it." She smiled again, slight and soft. "Even the worst of it seems less terrible, when you're there with me."
Marian hesitated. She felt worried that Merrill would pull away. But, when she thought about it, Merrill hadn't pulled away from her all day. Marian reached out, wrapped her arms around Merrill, and rested her head against her shoulder.
"Yeah," Marian agreed. "I feel the same."
And, slowly but surely, the anxiety left Merrill and she reached up to return the hug.
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Fin.