Liminality

Chapter 3: Thedas

Jolina came to with a gasp and looked up, just in time to see the claws of a rage demon descending towards her head. She rolled, hissing as her back and head throbbed, and propelled herself into a crouch.

The world felt wrong. Too heavy. Too bright. Too loud. She instinctively tried to will herself a pair of daggers, but nothing appeared, and Jo was forced to jump out of the way as spikes of ice shot out of the ground in front of her. Slowly sound gained clarity, and she heard fighting- the clink of blades, the screams of demons, the grunts and yells of people. People.

People?

Her vision cleared and she saw a small group of people attacking the demons in earnest. She recognized Solas, his bald head gleaming in the sunlight, swinging a staff around his body in a way that seemed almost majestic. There was man decked out in heavy metal, wearing a helmet in the shape of the griffon, and swinging a large one-handed battle-axe. Jo could not help but spend a moment appreciating the fantastic facial hair. Blackwall, she thought to herself.

She looked for the Inquisitor, curious who it might be, and saw an eleven women yielding a sword, her left hand glowing slightly green. A female Lavellen, then? The woman's dark auburn hair swirled around her as she spun and flung her shield in the way of another bolt of ice, only to parry and send her sword through a demon's neck.

A figure darted in front of her and shoved her slightly to side, interrupting her moment of appreciation, and she saw a blur of a young man flip over the demon that had been about to attack her as he plunged twin daggers into the demon's back. It screamed in rage, but slowly dispersed into space, and Jo was able to more clearly see a wide-brimmed hat hiding shaggy blonde locks. His head lifted far enough that Jo was about to catch a pair of murky grey-blue eyes looking at her curiously.

He…

It was this that prompted her panic. He felt right and wrong at the same time. Pieces of her familiar Fade clung to him, but that is not what he was. Was not all he was. He was more than her spirit friends, and that difference seemed to highlight everything that was wrong with this world. The too-bright light of the sun overhead, the too-gritty feeling of sand pressing into her legs. The too-loud sounds of everything- birds chirping, trees rustling, people moving… She watched the Lavellan woman close the breach with an elegant twist of her hand and felt panic swamp her senses.

The connection was gone. She assumed the familiarity of the Fade coming in through the Rift had left her with a few moments of reprieve, but now that it was gone… She struggled to breath, pulling at her hair. This couldn't be real. Why was she here? She didn't want to be here. Just when she had been able to create some feelings of companionship. Just when she was getting used to the conversations. Their strength, their comfort, their presence. She couldn't do it without them. She thought she might be strong, that they might have made her into more than she was, but now she knew. She was never meant to be anyone in particular. She was never meant to accomplish anything. She was meant to die, insignificantly, just as billions had before her.

Tears fell as she hyperventilated, the wrongness and hopelessness pervading her senses. But her breaths didn't seem to be enough, and soon she was gasping. Someone pushed her hands from her face, and she dug her fingernails into her forearms in an attempt to feel something. Pain was something, right? She gripped harder, and blood pooled underneath her fingernails, before someone made a noise of disapproval and tried to grab her hands from her arms.

No. It felt wrong. Just as wrong as she was used to people feeling, but it hadn't felt like this in the Fade. She had forgotten how it felt when touch seemed to inspire shivers and claustrophobia and disgust. She started shaking as sobs turned into moans of pain, and then terrified shrieks. She heard people around her arguing, dragging things through dirt. Light was everywhere. Sound was everywhere. Too much, too much, too much…

She was lifted and carried for a few steps, and then set down somewhere dark. Her bag was removed from her back and set down on the ground beside her. The sounds were muted. A warm pair of arms came around her small, shaking frame, and all Jo could think was 'Compassion'. He started humming as more broken sobs burst forth as that thought led to her current predicament.

'I am alone.'

"No. You're not," a voice responded, a young man who sounded mellow, if a bit sad. Jo could feel the sleeves of his long-sleeved shirt, patched but soft. She gripped his forearms with her fingers, and thought in response.

'Of course I am. What will I do now? I can't help people anymore.'

The person behind her shook his head. "A sound without sound, a presence without purpose. She thinks of herself as a stain on the wall that festers. But you can help."

'How? I am nothing without them. I relied on them too much. Now where will I find wisdom, or valor? Faith and hope?'

His arms tightened. "Remember."

The tears continued to fall, and Jo tried not to cling to the pieces of fade clinging to the young man's skin. Compassion, once upon a time? It still felt wrong, but not like when she had been touched a few minutes ago. He had started humming again and she was able to breath. A sliver of light appeared in front of her, and Jo realized she had been placed in a tent. The tent-flapped continued to part, and the elven apostate stepped through.

Jo looked up at him with shuddered eyes. "Solas," she muttered.

The elf's eyes widened in brief surprise, before narrowing. "Yes. And you are?"

Jo thought the name Jolina, but couldn't seem to make herself say it.

"Jolina," the young blonde answered for her from behind, and Jo felt down his sleeve to grip one of his hands in thanks. He squeezed back.

"Jolina." The elf sighed loudly, before sitting down on the ground across from them. "I admit that I have never come across your circumstance before. Wisdom said you spent years with her in the Fade in your physical form. As far as I know, this had never happened before. I cannot be sure yet of the consequences."

"Y-years?" Had it really been that long? Not that she had anyway to tell, but years? How many? What did she look like now? Was she considerably older? It was then that she looked down at her clothing and saw the age. Her casual button-up shirt that was obvious fraying at the edge, dust clinging between the creases. Her tank-top underneath had holes and was covered in grime and blood. Her shorts had worn the best, but even they were faded in color, the thread rubbed raw in a few spots. How?

Fear and panic once again started to boil over, and she heard a growling sound come from behind her. She twisted anxiously to look at the young man, who was openly scowling at the elf. "You are scaring her," he reprimanded, before looking down at her.

When their eyes met a second time Jo remembered. 'Cole' she thought. Cole who had once been a spirit of compassion. Cole, who had born from the death of the real Cole in the White Spire. Cole, who wanted to help but didn't always know how to go about it.

Cole's head cocked curiously. "You know me?" he asked. Jo didn't answer.

"Cole?" Solas asked with curiosity, but also an obvious sense of apprehension. Cole didn't respond, although his hand had tightened around hers. The elf sighed again, then stated, "We are going to bring you back to Skyhold for now until we figure out what to do with you."

Skyhold? Jo remembered flashes of the building from the game. The undercroft, sounds of heated metal crafted beneath a waterfall. The prison a gaping hole in the side of the massive fortress. The throne standing imperiously behind stained glass windows. A room tucked into the corner of the Chantry garden that contained a mirror that reflected like polished gold, but gleamed blue when the time was right. 'Eluvian' she thought to herself.

Cole frowned down at her. "Images like reflections, but not. A memory inside of a memory inside of a dream. The glint of the eluvian shines gold outside embriem blooms, but the witch stands possessive. Have you been there before?"

Jo couldn't answer. It felt like a dream, at this point. Her life before the fade. A time of hurt and spilled coffee and kittens abandoned, pouncing in cardboard boxes. Of the ruins. But what was real, then? It all seemed to be a dream.

"Cole?" Solas asked again, his voice harder this time.

"Dreams," Cole answered, his brow furrowed as he attempted to make sense of Jo's thoughts.

Solas' eyebrow quirked. "You dreamed inside of the Fade?"

Jo frowned. Of course not. She couldn't remember sleeping. She couldn't remember eating. Why would there be dreams for her? But she saw the dreams of others in the Fade. Not that this is where she got these glimpses, but… she couldn't be sure, could she? Perhaps her previous life had been someone else's dream?

Cole's frown deepened, and he looked back at Solas. "The dreams of others. Remembering."

Solas' forehead crinkled in thought. "What of Corypheus?"

Jo heard the name and started. Image flashed of what she remembered, and what others had dreamed. The man standing at the cliff facing Haven, red lyrium growing from his body, his mouth fixed in a malicious sneer. Startled desperate Grey Wardens as their blood was spilt and demons formed in their wake- for Corypheus, a man stated. Clusters of villagers shivering in cages, being led inside caves in shackles to mine red lyrium outside Sahrnia.

Cole's arms tightened around her almost to the point of pain as he saw these images. "Tall, imposing his will, but they hurt. Death, torment, possession. Discarded bodies that thrum with pain, the color a jittery red."

Jo leaned back to see him again, curious. His phrasing sounded almost beautiful, despite the despair and anger she could feel behind his words. How did he do that?

The young rogue didn't answer, instead reaching behind him to grab her bag, which he set inside of her lap.

Jo exclaimed with a gasp. Her backpack! Then maybe her past wasn't a dream? A figment of her imagination? She clutched it to her chest, her smile wobbly. But then what did that mean for her? Everything about her situation seemed an impossibility. And it seemed far too easy for the disassociation to grab hold and alter her reality. What was there to grab onto?

Cole reached around her once more to clutch her hand, and she felt herself relax slightly. She would figure this out. She would. For the sake of her spirit friends. For the sake of the people in this new group who had already invested time and energy into helping her out. She looked up into the eyes of the elven mage, who was giving her a look of consideration. "To Skyhold?" she asked.

"To Skyhold," he repeated in affirmation, a solemn look on his face.

Jolina thought that the individuals in this group were extremely accommodating. The first day of travel Jo could only manage to follow at dusk and a few hours into the night. Unable to sleep (did she forget how?), she sat around the fire with Cole close by. Eventually relaxing, staring into the campfire, Jo was caught by the way the fire seemed to turn all of Cole's features a golden red, and had gotten out her sketchbook to draw the different shades. He had tried to move to see what she was doing, but she encouraged him to stay seated with strong thoughts and weaker hand motions. The young man sat back down in confusion.

After adjusting to the world all night, she could handle dawn. The next day was overcast, rain showers falling sporadically, but it was enough that she felt comfortable traveling during the day. Slowly, but surely she became used to the brightness.

Noises were harder to get used to. Cole had found a spare scarf, which he had wrapped around her head, covering her ears, with a smile. She could tell from the look of amusement on the face of the others that it looked ridiculous, but noise became so much more manageable, and she was grateful.

The Inquisitor introduced herself as Ariya, and looked at her curiously as Solas explained her circumstances, eyes bright. Jo and Ariya had had a stilted conversation, in which Jo felt much too overwhelmed to actively participate, but the elf just smiled kindly at her, her vallaslin glowing slightly in the moonlight.

They had three tents set up the second night they stopped to rest, and Solas had insisted that she share a tent with him. He stated that he was concerned about how her resting form might interact with the Fade, and wanted to be there just in case to prevent trouble. He healed whatever bruises Jo could still feel on her back and head, and then settled down to watch her fall.

Cole could tell blankets comforted Jo, but he drudged up a few too many in his enthusiasm. She was soon tucked and nestled in a too-warm cocoon, watched by the vigil that was Cole and Solas as she closed her eyes and drifted away.

It felt as natural as breathing, which was unusual from what she remembered about her life before. One second she was sweating almost uncomfortably, a hand wrapped in cotton moving strands of hair from her face, and the next she was in the Fade.

It was almost frightening to be there as a Dreamer. She possessed none of the same control, her will operating differently on the space in front of her. But she was able to reign in any apprehension, comforted by the familiarity of the plain. She wandered, coming across a familiar ball of light, and began chatting with the sparkling wisp.

Solas found her shortly after that, and Jo instantly quieted. Letting out concerned trills, the wisp came over and nudged gently against her face. She couldn't help but laugh, stroking the wisp and smiling with happiness. She did not feel comfortable attempting to actually do anything in front of Solas, whether that meant conjuring materials or calling out to Wisdom. Instead, Solas sat with her on a group of rocks and they watched a faraway ghost mutter and grip transparent sheets.

"Jolina," the elf eventually addressed. She turned to look at him. "How did you experience others' dreams?"

She didn't know how to describe it. She could just feel it. Intuitively understand their emotions and circumstances. Their struggles. But not their thoughts. Images would form in her mind, imprinted from their experiences, but that was all. The word imprint stuck out as being the most appropriate, and she offered it to him.

"Imprints?" she stated, unsure.

Solas seemed to consider that. "So you never entered their dreams?"

Jo's eyes widened in surprise. "You can do that?"

Solas nodded, and then stood. "Come," he stated, holding out his hand. Jo took it with less suspicion this time, jumping up curiously. He took them a few paces until she noticed the familiar light of shuddering translucency and grasping fingers. Still holding her hand in his right, he grasped the fingers with his left. The moment he touched she could feel their joint connection, and an incredible pull. Black, blinding space, and then…

She looked around and saw a field of green, an interplay of weeds and flowers, that stood in front of a homestead. A young man was positioned in front cutting tree chucks into pieces of wood. He turned as he heard a call, and a women wearing a flowing red skirt came out to meet him. They shared a kiss, both grinning tumultuously, as a stray breeze came and blew their hair to the side.

"A memory," Solas elaborated from beside her, "the way she remembers her youth."

Jo sighed. It was such a lovely image. Which, from her experience, had not been the norm in a majority of the dreamers she had come across.

Another breath and they were back in Fade, and Solas noticed the woman visibly relax. "Have you attempted to shape the Fade before?"

"Shape?" she asked, slightly tilting her head as she contemplated what he was referring to. Like creating things from the ether? She summoned her daggers with barely a thought, and held the objects out in front of him as if attempting to answer with them alone.

Solas nodded. "Have you attempted anything more than objects? Could you craft a memory like the one we just witnessed?"

Craft a memory? Jo had never considered trying such a thing before. Was that something that was possible in the Fade? Jo thought about what she wanted to see. Reassured of the existence of her old home, she thought about one of her favorite memories, concentrating on remembering the whole as much as the details. It was difficult because it felt so long ago, an impression within a dream, but… It took barely a second before, once again, Solas and she were pulled into a new space.

Jo's great uncle had a cabin in the northeast part of New York, far away from the city. They arrived in the winter, the surrounding woods covered in snow, and looking into the cabin Jo could see a lit Christmas tree twinkling in front of the window. Presents were stacked around it, and a fire glowed soft embers in a fireplace opposite the window. The snow crunched under her boots as she took a few involuntary steps forward, and she could practically smell the burning wood and taste the spiced hot cocoa. This Christmas had been special- an unusual gathering of cousins and extended family, and it had seemed more somehow. It wasn't the gifts, or the decorations, or the music; something about family and warmth and acceptance.

Jo turned to Solas to find him looking around curiously. Frowning, suddenly feeling self-conscious, she let go of the memory and they were once again standing in the Fade. Solas pulled his hand from hers, and looked down at her solemnly.

"Are you a mage?" he asked with no preamble.

Jo thought of her pathetic attempts to recreate magic in the Fade, even with the help and guidance of Hope, Valor, and Justice. "Not at all," she responded, shaking her head.

Solas' brows furrowed in thought. "Another peculiarity," he stated. "I have never met anyone who was capable of manipulating the Fade as easily as you who was not a mage."

Jo thought about that for a long moment. "Does magic enhance their presence in the ether? Or facilitate their ability to create? Or have they already practiced magical application that called for manipulating material in space, and so it was simply a matter of applying the same training in a different context?"

Solas stared at her for a few moments in what Jo felt was surprise, before answering with an approving nod. "A little of all three, I suspect. Although most do not bother to question the intricacies. And the result differs depending on the power of the mage, which adds to the complexity."

Jo nodded. "How long have we been here?" she asked, looked up at the gleaming green ambience that made up the sky. Before he could answer, however, the world faded as she took a breath, blinked, and saw cloudy grey-blue eyes peering at her underneath a too-large hat inside of a dark tent.

"Jo," the blonde rogue stated with a worried eyes and pursed lips. She didn't understand why until she looked down and saw sweat pouring profusely from her body. All at once, she realized she was sweltering.

Solas stood up from a nearby cot, and once he could take in the situation, began removing blankets. Cole started a muttered refusal, but stood back to watch Solas work. When all of the blankets were removed and she still felt hot, Solas put his hand on her forehead and hummed in disapproval. He left the tent, and Jo audibly appreciated the burst of cold air that entered the tent as he did.

"I'm sorry," Jo attention was immediately drawn to the blonde rogue, "I did this wrong. Burning, sweaty, sticky, sick. Everything is still too much."

Jo saw that he was still frowning, and smiled. His worry was incredibly endearing. "Don't be silly. This was perfect." This was hardly the first time she had gone to bed with too many blankets. She loved blankets. Especially fuzzy ones. And the way he had tucked her in made her feel safe and cared for. Jo knew from experience that those feelings were to be treasured.

Cole's lips lifted a bit in response to her smile, but they were interrupted as Solas and Ariya entered the tent. Another burst of cool air settled over her arms and legs, and Jo sighed in pleasure.

"You are ill?" Ariya asked with a concerned frown. Jo blinked at her, unsure of what to say. Was she?

The inquisitor sighed. "There will be talking later," she warned, before sitting beside her cot. "Luckily for you, the rides we requested from Horsemaster Dennett have arrived, so we should be able to carry you back to Skyhold."

It was only an hour or so before dawn, and they made quick work of putting away the tents and consolidating supplies. Jo stood off to the side clutching her backpack, feeling a bit useless, but unsure how to help. She was eventually fed a potion that tasted like death, wrapped in a few blankets by an insistent Cole, and tossed onto a horse sitting behind Blackwall (who was quickly established as the most skillful rider after a small debate within the group).

This actually turned out quite well for Jo. When the sun came out of the clouds and the light became glaring, she bunched up the blanket edges around her head and leaned into Blackwall's back. And as they steadily rose in elevation and the temperature dropped, she was able to stay warm. It took the whole day before they were able to reach Skyhold just as sun was setting, and Jo felt herself suck in a breath as the fortress came into the view. The game could hardly do the structure justice; it was much larger and more imposing in person, and as she came closer she could see it was much better put-together (Jo assumed they were more proactive about covering holes in the ceilings and walls in real life).

Jo took a deep breath against the sudden nerves that were threatening to pour from her body (What it they thought her a spy and tortured her? What if she was too useless to keep? What if she couldn't manage this new place, meeting these new people?)- breathe in, breathe out. In. Out. She tried her best to draw on the strength of her old friends, needing them, but… It was just her here. So she would have to do the best that she could.

Disclaimer: Bioware and its affiliates own Dragon Age. Not me, unfortunately.