Chapter 5
Then-Justinian
The cinnamon and honeysuckle field greets Meryn as she enters the Fade that night after being cleared by the healer. She can't help but groan, throwing her hands up.
"Is one night off too much to ask for?!" The sound echoes through the valley, bees stirring lazily from the wildflowers.
"You just get back to me on that alright?" she continues to shout to the sky, arms crossed over her chest. Meryn shakes her head realizing she is alone in her dream-and therefore literally yelling at no one but herself.
...Silence peasant.
Or maybe not as alone as she thought.
Confused, Meryn searches the field, looking for the owner of the voice. "Hello?" she calls out. A shuffling in the bushes announces Tadwinks presence as the Fade fennec bounds into the field, hopping cutely around her ankles as his chocolate eyes look up at her, yipping all the while. Meryn smiles, reaching down to scratch his ears.
...Peasant. Leave the rodent be. It's dirty.
Meryn shoots up-nearly cuffing the fox-spinning around, wildly searching for the voice. She's positive it's not the terror demon-his voice is reedy and thin. This one is deep and authoritative, oozing the surety and confidence that only comes with old age and experience.
...I would certainly assume so, the voice says with a definitively masculine ring, sounding grumpy.
Excellent. She'd managed to offend something she could only hear in her head-
Wait.
Voices in her head...
"...hello?" Meryn-somewhat meekly- questions, eyes looking upward even as she's focusing internally.
...Yes rube?
With a squeak, her legs buckle and she falls (more like collapses) gracelessly to the valley floor. She scuttles backwards, hands and feet digging into the dirt, eyes sealed shut as she tries to get away before realizing that:
1.) She looks utterly ridiculous. Tadwinks is starting at her with his head cocked so far to the side Meryn's positive the fox thinks she's insane.
2.) She's trying to run away from something that not only doesn't have a body but only exists in her...head...
3.) Well, mostly just 2. Kind of all number two.
...Are all the Elvhen of this time like you churl? So...
The voice searches for a word, muttering something in High Elvish. Or she hopes its High Elvish because in the modern tongue it's far from flattering.
...Peace. She is the Vessel. We are bound to offer our aide.
If Meryn wasn't already in the dirt, she would have been-her head feeling even more over crowded then usual. She has enough errant and frivolous thoughts for a multitude of people-she doesn't need them developing personalities.
Or talking back.
...Please, calm yourself da'len. Settle your mind.
The second voice is kinder and gentler then the first, and if sound could be represented as color, this voice shimmered like silver. Meryn can practically see the voice's owner and the image is remarkably similar to her mother-tall and willowy with bright lilac eyes and glorious silver hair strikingly curling down the length of her back. (Meryn can't help but feel jealous of the voice- even in her imagination the voice's hair is superior to her own limp and boringly straight locks.)
Plus, the ethereal feminine voice of the second got that pompous one to shut up. Meryn prefers her already.
...Bah! This just proves Elves of this time are fools-
"Stop listening to my head!"
...Stop shouting them for all to hear. An errant thought flits through Meryn's mind.
...Choking yourself is not sufficient to silence me. Peasant.
If she could glare into the back of her own head she would. The little fox watches, ruby eyes locked and intent on her, seemingly enraptured by the one-sided conversation he's watching.
"Who are you?" Meryn questions as the alarmed bees settle back into their flowers, gathering pollen.
...I AM- he seamlessly switches back to High Elvish, ostentatiously rambling off what sounds like a litany of titles and names, none of which Meryn can actually make out apart from the odd syllable.
"Sael? The First?" The voice instantly deflates, insulted that her inferior Dalish intellect is only capable of grasping the least impressive of his titles.
...You know us da'len. You came to us to aid you against the Tainted pretender, but you were not ready to listen.
"You're-wait- the Well?" Meryn asks. She feels a positive affirmation in her head. "And what does 'not ready to listen' mean exactly?"
...You were denying your birthright.
"My birthright? What birthright? Stop talking to in riddles!"
She hates riddles. Iron Bull asked her one once- Often will I spin a tale, never will I charge a fee. I'll amuse you an entire eve, but, alas you won't remember me. She'd stared at him stupidly for twenty minutes before he took pity on her and just told her the answer-a dream.
Ironically fitting for the moment- she'd just met Sael and Meryn is already wishing she wouldn't remember him.
...Magic, you shemlen twit.
"Hey!"
...It, along with our language, is innate to all inheritors of the Elvhenan, but one must be willing. In your desperation to save your friend, you stopped denying an integral piece of yourself, and the magic was able to answer.
"But why can I only hear the two of you now? Before it was like-" Meryn puckers her lips, blowing out a whooshing sound as her hands run over the air, trying to say that the babble of the Well used to remind her of a thunderous river, but it's not coming out as she wants it to.
...Peasant. Are you a fool as well?
Definitely not coming out the way she wants it too.
"Let's just say it was loud," she finishes lamely, oversimplifying.
...You hear us for we are the most prominent. If you are to know him as Sael-the First- know me as Fel'ala, the Last.
"Hello again then? I guess?" Meryn greets them awkwardly. "Wait- so does this mean I can finally get a night off and a good night's sleep? I don't have to worry about the Anchor acting up or that stalker-demon?" Meryn's excited now, and not the least bit smug her pleas to the sky were heard.
...Pft. If the Elvhen of this time were not so clearly inept you would have been sleeping already. The glare she imagines shooting into the back of her head is so sharp Tadwinks runs off into the field.
Fel'ala pauses, ignoring the First, and when she answers, it's with a regretful tone.
...Not exactly. The Key of Fen-
...CEASE.
Sael issues the command so swiftly and surely without the usual trace of surliness that both Meryn and Fel'ala do not question. They merely obey.
...Get up.
Meryn rises quickly, brushing the dirt off as she tries to determine what Sael's detected. She locates Tadwinks in the center of the field, ruby eyes locked on the forest behind her. The bees are no longer buzzing contently around the flowers, but have swarmed together in a cloud, flying lazily in a loose formation above the fox.
"What is it?" she murmurs, making to move toward Tadwinks but wary of the insect cloud.
...Useless. No wonder you are being consumed.
"Excuse me?!" she whispers heatedly.
...Even a child could detect the belligerent force in those woods.
The demon's back. Of course.
"So instead of insulting me and my ancestors- let's not forget you're insulting yourself there old man- you help me find him so we don't get possessed?"
...Pft. Meryn takes the scoff as acquiescence.
...The ripple of mana is unique to every individual- human, elvhen- even those horned cattle from the north- it is a mark you can use to identify your opponent. Sael explains as she tries to mimic the images and impressions he's suddenly flooding her mind with.
...Only the most gifted can mask or alter theirs. He must have detected an unvoiced question because he continues- It should not concern you here. Only the most talented of the Elvhen could so do in Arlathan.
"Oh thank you Sael. I hadn't noticed yet how inferior I am compared to the rest of you," Meryn says indignantly as she loses concentration.
...You are welcome peasant.
Meryn closes her eyes, trying to focus as Sael showed her. Calming her breathing, she focuses on her other senses- picking up the now familiar scent of honeysuckle and cinnamon from the breeze. Sshe hears the sound of the bees as they hover over the fennec. She can feel the tingle of magic across her skin as the Fade moves and shifts around her, accommodating the small details it finds from her mind and the minds of other dreamers.
Focusing on the tingle opens her senses up deeper, allowing her to hear the hum of the Fade as it moves- the song of the raw Fade. She follows it, listening until the notes sour when they come to the forest.
There.
When she opens her eyes she sees him. Or rather her this time. And not really her so much as the hazy outline of color around her- a dark, putrid olive.
...Congratulations. You saw your first Fade aura. Finally.
Choosing not to rise to the bait Meryn responds with a simple 'Thank you', squinting her eyes to try and see the olive aura and it's owner more clearly.
...Of course if we were in Arlathan and this were a duel you would have lost multiple times over and been pressed into servitude.
"And if you were here you would be pressed into servicing the halla pen," she snaps back, rolling her eyes.
...Hallipin? What is this hallipin?Fel'ala subtly clears her throat, ending the conversation before Meryn can flash the proper images.
...What do you see da'len?
"Um...she's definitely a she-a man can't pull of those hips."
...No peasant. What does the mana radiate to you?
"The aura? It's green-well a kind of sick looking olive?"
...Then your initial assumptions were correct. You face a terror demon. Remember the color however rube. Demons are not unique enough to have differing auras-once you see one you will always be able to identify its brethren. She files the information away for later as Sael gives her a new set of marching orders.
...Now. Arm yourself.
With nary a thought, Syl and Targen appear on her back in all their polished glory, as well as her favorite serpent stone armor. Proud of herself (since she'd been practicing nearly every night since coming to the Plains) Meryn waits for Sael's acerbic comments or accolades from Fel'ala.
...Accolades? Fool. To me your kind are as infants playing with sharp sticks and rocks- it is merely a matter of time before a grievous injury. Now go.
Protesting, Meryn walks to the center of the field, but her toe catches on a sharp rock and she trips, falling face first in the dirt.
...As I-
"Stuff it!"
Cursing her deplorable timing and Mythal for allowing Sael to be her High Keeper in the first place, she trudges to the center of the field and stands next to Tadwinks.
The fennec is standing rigidly, eyes still locked on the forest, ears upright and alert. He hisses loudly at the woods, and as the feminine figure emerges, he whines pathetically, shaking himself. He blinks up at her, fear and confusion in his chocolate eyes before scampering up her legs and settling himself on her shoulder, trying to bury his head in her hair. Meryn shushes him, focusing on the figure.
"Oi! Inky! Where you been at? I've been waitin' for your elfy ass all night yeah?" Seeing the demon chose Sera this time, Meryn groans, imagining all the possibilities of death and dismemberment the demon might conjure up in Sera's name.
"Oh shut it! We both know who you are you lunatic, so stop pretending and get on with it." Not-Sera cackles.
"Clearly not if you're thinkin' little ol' me is an insanity demon. I'm nuffin' like those nasty blighters."
"Really? Are you sure about that? Because I've seen you and you look like something that got dropped off June's left nut-and trust me, he was far from the prettiest of the elfy elfs," she fills her insult with a false sense of bravado, hoping to cover her nervousness.
Meryn can feel Fel'ala's shock at her blasphemy and hears the Last rattle off something to Sael.
...Why would I? The peasant is accurate for once.
The Inquisitor's not quite sure how to feel when Sael agrees with her, but Not-Sera chooses that moment to respond.
"You wound me," Not-Sera says in mock indignation. "But very well," and then he is on her- knocking the fox from her shoulders- wasting no time in a showy transformation, opting instead to change in an instant. One second Sera, the next as the familiar slack-jawed terror demon.
"Why do you resist?" he taunts as he swipes at Meryn's face with his claws- his thin, reedy voice echoing in her head. (Great. As if she needed another occupant up there. Maybe Sael could just wrestle him to death for her.)
"You will submit eventually- and I will rip the secrets from your flesh."
"I don't have any secrets- unless you want to know where the good cookies are- that's all I got." Meryn dodges his swipe, rolling to the side so she can flank attack him. He is faster then she expects, and before her daggers can connect he knocks her aside.
Dazed, he grabs her by the throat, lifting her off the ground, but before he can squeeze and cut off her oxygen Meryn wraps one leg around his forearm to anchor herself and kicks out his bottom jaw with the other. He rears back in pain, dropping the elf.
"Gotta watch them jowls Jowly," Meryn sings out as she recovers, pouncing on him. She goes on the offensive, using Syl and Targen to cut-unsuccessfully- through his chitinous armor.
"Fool," the demon laughs at her. "Weapons are only as deadly as the magical intent behind them- you are powerless here."
"Any suggestions?" Meryn questions the Well, pulling the Twins up to block Jowly's next attack as her mind is bombarded with a flurry of images; the images lacking any real context or explanations- though the picture of her tripping and falling after stubbing her toe on a rock is easy enough to interpret.
"You guys are terrible teachers you know that right?" Meryn yells as she dives back into the fray, shoving the Well to the far corner of her mind while she tries to think of something that doesn't include using the Anchor.
If she was back in Skyhold she wouldn't have hesitated- well she would have, but only because she feared Josie's wrath. She still can't control it, and if the Fade knife caused an explosion Meryn could kill someone in the close quarters of the camp.
"I tire of this," is the Inqusitor's only warning before the swarm is on her, Jowly commanding Sera's favorite tool to attack her.
They go for her face first, managing to land a few stings before Meryn can pull down her leather hood and pull the mask up over her nose, obscuring everything but her eyes. It helps at first- the bees unable to get through her armor- until they start landing on her, crawling through the small gaps at the elbows and knees, a brave few crawling down her hood. She screams, dropping the Twins, trying to squash wherever she feels a sting- but there are to many- and the stings make her body feel slow, lethargic, even as her mind is fully active and screaming in pain.
She falls to her knees in the dirt, paralyzed. Jowly approaches her slowly, his too long arms dragging behind him, and if his bottom jaw wasn't broken somewhere around his chest Meryn would have sworn he was grinning at her. He drags one of his emaciated arms forward, using his hand to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes in an obscene perversion of a lovers touch-
-and when their eyes meet, he throws his head back and screams.
Not a normal don't-tickle-me-there-scream.
A blood curdling, toe-curling, a hide-your-children-hide-your-wives, see-your-life-flash-before-your-eyes-before-you-die-scream.
And that's what happens. The latter of course, as Meryn doesn't have any kids. Or wives. But the flashes she sees are not anything she remembers.
In one, a man paces before a beautiful black mirror until a dragon falls out of it, gently holding a chestnut-haired woman.
In another, two women stand over the body of a third, older woman. The smaller of the two bends toward the body, avoiding pools of blood, removing something from around the older woman's neck which she hands it to the taller, and this woman flees- the golden orb of the necklace's amulet flashing.
The memories keep coming, there for a moment and gone the next.
When she starts seeing images she recognizes-her mamae's horrible scars, her father's back- Solas. Solas dying, Solas leaving, Solas, Solas, Solas- she understands what the demon is doing; breaking her down with an onslaught of her worst nightmares, her greatest fears come to life.
And it's working.
"Stop it!" Meryn pleads as she has to watch her mother burn again and knows it's her fault. Jowly cackles as he screams again, the pulse echoing across the field, causing everything in the dreamscape to tremble, except for the little fox whose crimson eyes are flashing as he hops around her hissing at the bees.
"You can end your torture at any time elf. Tell me where-"
A humongous black wolfy blur appears out of nowhere, knocking the demon over onto it's back. The wolf- the size of a horse with sleek, sable fur-lands on it's chest, and in a rage tears at Jowly's throat. The demon twists, throwing the wolf off him before disappearing in pool of acid green.
Tadwinks, terrified, flees into the woods.
Body still paralyzed, Meryn can barely move as the reassuring wolfy presence comes right up next to her, closer then ever before. She should be terrified- the beast did just try to rip out the throat of a demon- but she's not. The wolf is a frequent presence in dreams- having made appearances in every one since Jowly first started showing up.
Meryn images he's a spirit of some kind- maybe Valor, Courage, or Fortitude- who felt the need to look after her. She assumes the same for the spirit that appears as her little fox as well.
The wolf approaches her slowly, pacing around her in an agitated circle, as if worriedly assessing her condition. He stops in front of her and sits down, yet even this way his size is enormous; Meryn's head only comes to his chest as she kneels in the dirt. He lowers his head, sniffing delicately at her neck, pausing ever so slightly to inhale deeply, his grey eyes closing as he analyzes the scent.
Then, rather grossly, he licks the side of her face, and whatever magic is in it frees her from the bees' poison. Meryn falls forward, flexing each of her muscles experimentally, finding everything sound.
Immediate concerns abated, the terrible images suddenly replay across her mind, overcoming her. Meryn tries to hold the feelings back, to shove them to a far corner of her mind, but she can't. And the consequence of her failure is immediate- she sniffles.
Meryn pounds her first into the ground, trying to control herself. (She is a woman. Women cry. It's okay if a woman cries- that's what she tells herself anyway). She hears a gentle snuffling above her, and a soft wet nose touches her cheek, catching the first tear before it falls. Meryn looks up, violet meeting gentle grey that surprisingly remind her of Solas.
He always did have an appreciation for wolves- she understands it now. Wiping her face as she stands up, she comes eye to eye with her savior.
"You did it again you know. Saved my life and all that. Thank you."
Raising a hand slowly, gauging the wolf's reaction, she asks permission to touch him. Grey is wary as it bores into her, but he leans down slightly. She scratches his ear- hesitant at first- but when the wolf closes his eyes, releasing a deep sigh (as if he'd been holding it for months) and pushes into her hand, Meryn commits, touching her forehead to his, intending to give the wolf the best ear rub of his life.
A shudder passes through him, and his eyes open in bliss, grey looking at Meryn as if she's the only thing he ever wants to see, and she's pleased with herself, grateful she can do something for him after he's saved her life yet again.
"It won't always be like this you know," Meryn tells him. "You won't have to go all howly and attack things for me," she's not sure if she's trying to convince the spirit or herself.
"Someone's coming to teach me all this Fade and magic business." The wolf goes rigid under her hands and Meryn halts the ear worship.
"Don't be upset- it's a good thing. You can still come and visit all you want but it'll be without all the-" she pauses, thinking and settles on "ARGHH!" mocking Jowly's scream and crab walk.
"It works out for you-no demon blood in your mouth. That has to taste nasty," she adds, laughing up at him.
The wolf is not amused-standing up suddenly- eyes hard as they stare down at her, and he takes off, heading to the crumbling ruins.
"Hey wait!" Meryn calls after him. She remembers what Sael said about demons and their auras- curious to see if it applied to spirits as well. She focuses on the wolf's, hoping to use it to determine what spirit he truly is and learn more about it.
The wolf is already fading when she manages it, the stunning blue-green of his aura one of the brightest things Meryn has ever seen.
That morning, when she finally woke up she felt rested for the first time in months. Well rested, and for some strange reason-
Completely whole.
A day and a half later, the well rested-ness flies out the window as Meryn Lavellan storms through the Inquisition camp, seeking out a certain Tevinter mage. She pauses outside of a small tent on the edge of the encampment, listening.
"Oh yes. Very original."
A pause, then a muffled voice.
"Ah and there it is- a wildly inaccurate assumption about my mother. How quaint."
A tingle of magic followed a slight groan of pain.
"That was for my mother- who is quite the fashionable lady. If you're going to insist on sounding like a two bit doxy fresh off the wagon from the bannorn, at least be creative about it. Honestly."
Taking that as her cue, Meryn moves the tent flap aside, catching the eye of Dorian Pavus, the mouthy red-head's "interrogator". She flicks her head towards the entrance, gesturing outside.
"Anything?" Meryn asks the mage as he follows her a short distance away.
"Nothing yet. She keeps insisting they tripped and fell." Rage burns through the Inquisitor, and Meryn's about to storm in there and see how the red-head looks after she "falls" around the Twins, when Dorian grabs her around the shoulders.
"I'll keep at it. Go check on Cole and those Keepers of yours." Grumbling out 'fine' even as she sees the prudence of her friend's request, Meryn back treks across the camp to the medical tents, lost in her thoughts.
Looking back, she really shouldn't have made that Venatori joke to Leliana before she'd left Skyhold, but how was she to know it was actually true?
The "looters" turning out to be a sect of Venatori who broke away from Corypheus' main force sometime before the Temple of Mythal. This conclusion based on information from papers- signed by the mysterious "C"- the Venatori left lying around on their desktops.
When the Inquisition raided the cave, they found the Dalish leadership locked in a cell, both unconscious-nearly exsanguinated- their bodies covered in cuts and bruises. The worst gashes were located on their arms, legs, and neck- essentially the easiest locations to access blood.
The injuries brought the previous night's dream ( and not the good bits) to the forefront, when Jowly was showing Meryn her mother's scars-all of which were located exactly where the worst injuries on the Keepers were. All the evidence the Inquisitor needed to conclude the Venatori were using the Dalish as blood slaves- using Elvhen blood to power blood magic rituals.
What exact ritual Meryn isn't sure- nor why they stole the Keeper and First specifically- but she can only imagine what a crazed blood mage would do when given access to Old Blood- the blood of the elves believed to be more powerful and contain more magical potential then that of other races. The older the bloodline, and the purer the connection to ancient Arlathan, the better.
Meryn reaches the medical tents, the situation unchanged from when she left- the reclaimed Keeper Hawen and Taven- his First- are on pallets on the ground, clinging to life, with Cole aside them, arms locked around his knees, rocking forlornly back and forth.
Meryn enters quietly, touching Cole gently on the shoulder. He startles, looking at her with despair in his eyes.
"They're hurt. I want to help, to heal, but I don't know how."
The depth of his compassion never ceases to amaze her (even while Meryn acknowledges the redundancy of finding a Spirit of Compassion compassionate).
"I know Cole. Dorian's trying to figure out what they're poisoned with but he's not doing well," Meryn says in a low voice. "What about you? Any luck?"
Cole's eyes close as he focuses, his hat wobbling weakly on his head.
"Blood. So much blood. Blood for dark magic and a dark purpose but why-" He cries out in pain suddenly, clutching his head.
Meryn grabs his shoulders, forcing the spirit to look at her. Cole's pupils are fully dilated, leaving his normally cheery blue eyes as black pits. His brow furrows as he concentrates, trying to stay in the Keeper's mind from whatever is trying to force him out.
He starts whispering rapidly, so fast Meryn can barely make it out-
We are here.
We have waited.
We have slept.
We are sundered.
We are crippled.
We are polluted.
We endure.
We wait.
We have found dreams again.
We will awaken.
-and with a gasp, he's back. Sort of.
"Enchantment?" he looks up at her, blue eyes confused. Perplexed, Meryn can't help but shake him a little.
"Cole! Are you alright?" The spirit blinks a few times, seemingly confused at his name, then squeezes his head in his hands.
"Mer...yn...?" Cole questions slowly elongating the syllables as he draws his hands back to his sides; the relief she feels is evident on her face as Meryn repeats her question.
"I think so," he says, eyes clearing. "What were we talking about again?"
"You don't remember?" she asks, disturbed. These new Venatori are even more sinister then the last batch-blood sacrifices, forbidden magic, and a creepy new theme song/poem thing.
"Remember what?"
"Maybe it's better this way. You were sounding a like a nutter- said some real crazy stuff," she says affectionately, taking his hat off to ruffle his feathery blonde hair.
The Inquisitor realizes she worries over him like a mother hen, but Meryn can't help it- the boy can talk to those who couldn't and it was a troublesome ability at the best of times-
Her head snaps up at the errant thought.
Talk to those who couldn't talk...
...Talk to those who wouldn't talk? Maybe?
"Cole- I have an idea how you can help," Meryn moves quickly, grabbing the spirit and pulling him to his feet. "Come on."
They race back to the red-head's tent, Cole barely able to keep up with her pace. She sets him up outside the tent, far enough away that the tent's occupants won't hear what they say but close enough for Cole to pick up the Venatori's thoughts. Telling Cole to wait, she heads towards the tent, pausing at the entrance.
"...eady done that. And with a qunari too. Try again."
Not wanting to hear the end of that conversation (though she can only imagine if the rumors of Iron Bull's predilections are actually true), Meryn shoves the flap aside, barging in, grabbing Dorian by the arm and pulling the mage outside.
"Careful, careful- I'm having an excellent hair day today," Dorian says as he holds his hands around his head trying to block the slightest breeze.
"That you are. Anyway, I've had an idea." She goes the safe route, choosing to ignore a long winded conversation about Dorian's favorite subject- himself.
"What is it today? And before you ask I will not participate in another round of Lets Poke the Bear. I told you the last time was my last time. You never did replace those boots- and they were my special going out boots with an extra water proof lining in the sole." He seems only slightly disappointed Meryn doesn't want to have a long, detailed discussion about him and his marvelous hair day.
"Just get her thinking about the Dalish- Cole should be able to pick up the rest- or at least something we can use."
Dorian pauses, thoughtful. "You know, you've had a lot of truly deplorable ideas- adopting that beastie of yours, letting Sera do the decorations for All Soul's-" he shivers, and for a split second Meryn thinks the mage may actually compliment her. "-But this has to be the absolute worst one yet."
Or not.
"I do aim to please," she finishes dryly, attempting to hide her dashed expectations.
"Truly. Just dreadful."
"Yeah, yeah, I get it. But you'll do it right?" she asks as Dorian starts walking away towards the tent.
"Might as well," the mage says throwing his hand up in acknowledgement. "Nothing else worked."
Trusting Dorian's silver (and barbed) tongue, she heads back to Cole, who's looking anxious.
"I don't like her- she's not kind."
"I know Cole, but if you do this we may be able to find out exactly what happened to Hawen and Taven- then we can help them. Can you do it?" He nods his head, resolute. Meryn looks away for a moment, hearing a laugh from the tent.
"Stupid knife ears, thinking they're better then us." Whipping around at the insult, Meryn realizes Cole has the red head- and this whole mess might actually work.
"Blood. Blood everywhere. Why I ask. Boss says 'For answers' and keeps cutting them. She throws blood into the fire, asking it a question-seeking something-someone. But who?"
Cole has seemingly entered a trance, unwaveringly focused on the task at hand- to glean as much information as possible. Meryn, meanwhile is trying to stay detached, to merely absorb anything Cole manages to find without running into the tent and throttling the other woman.
"Useless. Not pure enough- we'll have to ask. Wake them up; be careful with the shards she says. A shard for each cut- I wonder if the knife- ears can hear them whisper? Can they hear them sing?"
The more Cole says, the more Meryn fills with fury, her entire being quivering with rage over the treatment of her kin- but at least they know what the Venatori were keeping them comatose with.
She stops Cole quickly with a hand held to the side of his face, forcing a small smile on her own so he knows he was successful.
"Did I help?" He asks, blue eyes eager for approval.
"You did Cole-quite a lot. A lot a lot."
"Good." Meryn leaves him then, running back to the infirmary, and as she tells the healers the new information they spring into action, a pair with Keeper Hawen and another pair with Taven. They make her wait outside, but she stays, keeping a silent vigil.
The canvas tents do little to muffle sounds, so Meryn can hear nearly everything they do, her mind supplying the images- vividly. The tears she hears are the healers removing outer clothing, a soft splitting sound (which makes her wince) as one uses magic to reopen the wounds while the other halts blood flow.
Meryn blocks out the rest, preferring not to imagine the healers rooting around for red lyrium shards- though for some reason she pictures the shards having evil faces and really, really pointy teeth- and sealing everything back up. She prays to the Creators more out of habit then belief at this point, lost in her thoughts until a loud gasp and a small scream reach her ears.
Meryn's inside the tent with blades drawn in seconds, but the scene before her confuses her, and she relaxes marginally.
Keeper Hawen is sitting straight up, deathly pale, but his eyes are alert and locked on her. (If the first thing he says is Ghilan'asan En'an'sal she's swears she's going to shave her head. To the Void with her crook face.)
She rushes to his side, ignoring the protests of the startled healers. Grabbing him, Meryn tries to ease him back down, but he fights her- as much as someone who's lost nearly their entire blood volume can fight. She finally gets him down, but his eyes remain tortured- like he's trying to tell her something.
She gets as close to him as she dares, tilting her head towards the Keeper so her pointed ear is near his mouth. Hawen's whispers are broken, but Meryn doesn't know if it's due to thirst or his voice being destroyed from screaming for weeks.
"Ev...un..." he starts, running his tongue over his lips to soften them. She tries to soothe him, to tell him to relax, but he persists.
"Only way to stop..." Here he pauses, drawing in a deep breath and centering his thoughts.
"Find...evun..." he's getting weaker now, the determination in his eyes fading along with his voice.
"Save...evun'elan..." and forcing out a last word of High Elvish, Hawen Seithan- a revered Keeper of the Dalish- closes his eyes and passes into the Beyond.
About chapter titles:
The titles are based around the Tevene calendar on the Dragon Age Wikia. Firstfall (the first chapter) equates to November for us, the other chapters starting in Bloomingtide (May) and go from there.
Next Time: Taven wakes up and Meryn gets a dream visitor- surprisingly enough it's not Jowly.
Quotables: "You have no idea what you're getting into. Kind of like the time my friend Dorian stumbled into a ladies only bordello."