Her movements are wooden as she gets up, her limbs stiff. She takes her sweet time sitting up, then slowly pushes herself up and away from the bed and just stands there for a moment. The air is cold and goose bumps crawl up her spine, it makes her shiver slightly. There is a throbbing pain in her shoulder and her hip hurts as she shifts her weight a bit. She accepts that as what it is, just another well deserved lesson. It will take some time, but eventually the pain will fade.
As her gaze lands on the mirror, she takes a deep breath and resists the urge to look away again.
Once upon a time...
Reluctantly she raises her hand and trails the long silver scar that runs from her shoulder down to the swelling of her breast, the scar tissue only a thin line that belies how close she has been to death. Her fingers move to the ugly ragged scar at her side and she rubs her thumb over it in remembrance. As she reaches the intricate pattern of marks at her ribs, her belly and finally her legs, she lets her hand drop away suddenly. The bruise on her hip is still an angry purple, a sharp contrast to the usually pale color of her skin. The dark rings under her eyes do nothing to help her look a bit less battered, less crumpled.
The woman in the mirror looks foreign and her pale grey eyes are measuring, analyzing every inch of skin. She sees the scars on her skin and even those that have melted into her flesh and vanished with a touch of magic. Worst of all, she sees what is beneath them.
Once upon a time in a faraway land...
A sigh escapes her lips as she runs a hand through her hair and averts her gaze from her own reflection and pushes the mirror aside. She takes a deep breath and then starts to bend this way and that, to stretch her muscles and allow them to relax. It takes some time for them to unknot and even longer for her movements to become more fluid. Only then does she take up her tunic and slip into it, each movement executed with great care. There are stains of glaring green right next to rusty red ones despite the fact that she had been scrubbing it for almost an hour the day before. It is patched in several places and there is a hole at the back she didn't have time to mend yet. It doesn't matter much anyway.
Then she dresses in her simple leather armor. She pulls on her trousers and her boots and fastens the gauntlets with quick moves of her fingers, closing the buckles and sashes that are holding the leather in place. After that, she dons the coat of plates she has grown to like. The simple silver plates sewn into the leather are not too heavy and the armor itself not noteworthy. Each piece brings back familiarity and comfort, bit by bit, and that makes it easier to forget the woman in the mirror. As she pulls up her hair and twists it into a tight bun, she does so without really thinking about it. The movements are committed to memory and almost mechanical.
It is just a fairytale.
She is tired, but there is no time to rest now. There hardly ever is. So she crouches down and touches her hand to her dog's head. He opens one eye and looks at her sleepily, his tail wagging ever so slightly. With a groan he gets up and stretches and then he puts his head in her hands. She runs her hands over his head and his body, feels the scars under his thick brown fur and finally lets them glide back to his ears to rub them between her fingers. The mabari utters a blissful sigh and licks her hands as she pulls away.
When she moves through the room, he is a mere step behind her and that, too, makes everything a bit better. She grabs her backpack and pulls out a poultice of elfroot, quickly and carelessly drinking some sips, before she offers the rest to her companion. He gives her a dubious glance, but then he relents and licks the slightly bitter liquid from her palm.
She turns around to the leather pack and unrolls it and the weapons it contains with a metallic clinking sound. Her hand touches each of them, fingers caressing the designs on them. They feel versant, a perfect fit against her palm. After short consideration she chooses a slim stiletto and straps it to her thigh, then she takes the long, slim dagger and the short sword before she covers the rest with the leather and lets her hand rest on top of the pack for a moment..
Then she slips out of the room with her mabari and they leave the dark and still empty house and walk through the streets of Lowtown.
She is wary as she moves through the shadows of the streets, placing her steps carefully. There is something about Kirkwall that makes her skin crawl. Its shadows are vast and deep and there is a tension in the air, that doesn't even fade at night. It is easy to hide here, to be just one of many lost souls. It makes life a bit less complicated, but at the same time it makes her uneasy, it keeps her from sleeping. It would be as easy to lose herself in the shadows as it is to hide in them and somewhere deep down she is afraid she won't find the way back once that has happened.
It has started to rain and the streets are emptying, merchants are collecting their wares and fleeing from the downpour, passersby hurry along. She doesn't mind the rain that much. It washes away the stench of the streets a bit, sweeps at least some of the city's rats from the streets for a little while. The drops are warm and soft as they fall upon her skin and soak into her hair. One catches in her eyelashes and she blinks it away as the sparse light of the day reflects off the droplet and paints surreally colorful rainbows before her eyes.
There is a loud splash and a happy bark and then her mabari is at her side, little tail wagging enthusiastically as he jumps around her. His nose feels cold as he pushes it against her hand and she cannot help but reward him with a small smile as she strokes her fingers over his forehead and up to his ear. He is covered in more mud than should be possible, considering that it has only rained for several minutes, and his thick fur is wet already. Despite this or maybe because of it he seems absolutely delighted by the rain and soon leaves her side again to follow one of the many invisible trails that call on his attention time and again. He never goes far and always returns in a matter of moments, circulating around her like she has her own field of gravity that never fails to pull him back. She looks after him for a moment and scans the alleyway behind him, almost expecting the glint of light on metal or the sound of weapons being drawn. Today there is none, however, and she is thankful.
It doesn't take long to reach the Hanged Man and when she does, she stops and listens for a moment. There is the low murmur of voices, but other than that she can hear nothing. She taps her hand against her leg and her hound joins her. He cocks his head to the side as he looks at her.
"Be careful and keep your head down", she tells him and he utters a quiet grunt. She enters with him close at her heels and pushes through the crowd of people flocking together at the entrance. Tables are pushed over and bodies are being dragged away. There are blood stains in the middle of the room, slowly seeping into the wood, right next to older stains that are already beginning to fade. Nobody seems to care particularly much. Money exchanges hands and a waitress scowls at the crowd as she tries to pull a table upright again.
The air is filled with the stench of blood and stale ale and somewhere underneath it all the sweet scent of death. She puts a hand on her mabari's head and moves past the people and leans against the bar when she reaches it.
"Varric Tethras?", she asks the man behind it and he looks up, barely registering her. "Up the stairs to the back", he answers and she nods her thanks. While she walks towards the stairs, she pulls climbs the stairs and watches a mouse scurry away. When she reaches the door at the back, she pauses and knocks and waits until it is opened for her. As she steps into the room, she looks around. She registers the crossbow sitting on the table, bolts lying all around it, and the staff leaning against the wall just to her right, then her eyes fall on the beardless dwarf in front of her. He doesn't seem surprised or curious at all, he just looks at her calmly and with a smile. "I've heard you've been looking for me before?", he asks and walks back to sit down again. He puts his chin in his hands and looks at her with the most unnerving look in his eyes, but she just nods. He looks like he knows.
Once upon a time in a faraway land there was a little girl who loved the sea...
"I need information", she says quietly and closes the door behind her.