The dwarf known as Rhatigan, leader of the surfacer Carta, fell on his knees before Clarissa Hawke, blood rushing into his lungs and forcing choking sounds as he tried to breathe. Dark crimson stained the ground as blood flew from his lips, the silent movements of his mouth persisting until he fell over, dead. She had wanted to interrogate the doomed dwarf, and perhaps gain some insight as to why Tainted Carta and Darkspawn would, peculiarly, want her family's blood. The satisfaction of laying his throat open would have to do.
A gory explosion caught the corner of Clarissa's vision as Bethany rent a Hurlock in half, her crushing prison's shackles elongating to impossible lengths as she silenced the Darkspawn's defiant screech. Isabela landed next to her in a puff of smoke, twirling her wicked daggers as her foe, a burly Bronto, toppled over, a nasty gash laying its skull open.
"Show off." Varric scoffed as he descended the short flight of stairs, returning Bianca to her place of rest with a single, practiced motion. Isabela chuckled, wiping her daggers clean on a Carta rogue's leather armor as Clarissa approached, sheathing her sword and readjusting her bracer. "What was that dwarf talking about? That Corypheus? He certainly sounds like someone we shouldn't trifle with." Bethany said, regaining her composure after her physical and magical exertion. She sighed in relief as her Mana returned to her, a stream of gentle, cool water soothing her heightened senses.
"Names can be deceiving, and I'm going after this Corypheus person, frightening name or not." Clarissa said, looking Bethany in the eye.
I cannot let him be. Not after what he's done to you.
Bethany averted her gaze. Isabela, ever on the lookout for shiny objects, crowed happily as she pulled on the one lever that didn't trigger the multitude of traps hidden beneath the dirt. The sound of grinding metal irritated their ears as one of the majestic stone pillars at the center of the room slid open. The hidden panel had been well disguised, painted dusty brown and adorned with unassuming flakes of dirt, belying the object it concealed.
Isabela grunted as she wrapped her hands around the hilt, pulling it out of its hiding place and laying it on the ground with a dull clatter. The racket attracted her companions, and soon they were gathered around the source of the commotion.
A one-handed longsword lay on the ground, at least four feet long, consisting of an ornate hilt, a gracefully curving crossguard, and a balanced, rugged blade that hummed softly in resonance, as if delighted as its jagged edges came into contact with the world once more. Under the flickering orange light, the blade seemed to shimmer and warp, losing form and coalescing hypnotically as if conjured from thin air.
And all of it was gold. Pure, glittering gold wearing scratches and blemishes that told of its hardiness and warned of its lethality, casting blinding light that outshone the sun. Varric whistled, Isabela beamed, while Clarissa and Bethany looked on in wonder.
As the shifting candlelight hit the reflecting surface, Clarissa caught a glimpse of telltale lines etched onto the center of the crossguard in the form of a indiscernible symbol. Bending down to get a better look, she saw that a hawk was carved onto the crossguard with its wings spread wide, its shining silver eyes transcending the monotonous gold, surveying the world with a pristine vigil. The symbol was oddly familiar to Clarissa, as if she had once known it well. She looked to her side and saw Bethany's pensive expression mirror her own. The blade hummed at her hesitation, impatient to be wielded once more.
No guts, no glory.
Swallowing heavily, Clarissa allowed her sword hand to slowly approach the gilded hilt of the sword, feeling the faint resonance in the air intensify with her proximity.
A current of electricity ran through her when her palm closed around the hilt, jolting her into standing up. An icy coldness passed along her sword arm, making her gasp and go numb. Her grip on the sword loosened, the whole of her forearm becoming alien to her body. Blinding light exploded from behind her eyes, drowning out the world save for the gleaming gold in front of her. A waterfall of sound assailed her, multitudes of voices whispering in unison, yet speaking different words into her ear.
Clarissa crumbled before the monumental assault. Her left hand pressed itself against her temple, only to be torn away by her as searing heat, radiating from her bracer, burned her cheek. All the while, she felt a singular but powerful presence seeking entrance into her mind, batting at the feeble barriers she put up. Just off the edge of her consciousness, she felt her sister funneling her strength into her through their bond, determined to help her any way she could.
The pressure increased once. The world went white.
Clarissa held on. Feebly.
The pressure increased twofold. The voices blotted the concerned shouts of her companions.
Still, Clarissa refused to bow to the foreign entity. What she did do, however, was to push Bethany away from her mind. Gritting her teeth, she cordoned off her mind to Bethany's, knowing that if she failed to defeat her adversary, Bethany would be at risk as well.
What felt like a mountain slammed into her, driving breath from her lungs, making her arms go wide and her body stagger backwards. Her very blood boiled.
Clarissa felt the supporting touch of Bethany's hand on her arm fade away, signalling the crumbling of her senses, and she buckled. Her one tether of strength and solace was gone. Whatever the entity desired, she was no longer capable of denying.
The voices ceased their cacophony at once, as if hushed into silence.
The world slowly returned to Clarissa's senses as her eyes readjusted from blinding white to ambient gloom.
The golden sword hovered in mid-air, shimmering as its icy chill altered the very flow of air around it. Slowly, Clarissa turned her head to look at her side, where her sword arm lay limp.
All query from her thoughts were washed away as she felt the alien presence press into her mind, as a blood mage would when plying his wicked craft. The hollow in her thoughts moved back and forth in the recess of her consciousness, as if examining her every aspect, peering into the very fiber of her being. Curiously, the touch of her intruder's mind mirrored her impressions on the golden sword, utterly alien yet deceptively familiar, like what one would feel when greeting a long-forgotten friend.
Regardless, she remained stone-still as the intruder sifted through her memories, peeked into her emotions and examined her actions. It sped through her childhood with remarkable speed, perhaps because of its relative unimportance. Faintly, she was aware of it glancing at the part of her that harboured her infatuation towards Bethany, and she thought she felt something akin to surprised amusement slip out of its thoughts. She protested against its prying tendrils weakly and, curiously enough, the intruder's thoughts turned apologetic, and its probes withdrew from that particular domain.
When it seemed that the intruder was satisfied with its tampering, it backed away. Its foreign thoughts ebbed like a serpent slithering its way out of Clarissa's mind as she struggled not to shove it out, not to tear her very hair out to rid herself of its influence.
Clarissa sighed as the presence vanished from the confines of her skull, her eyes regaining their sight and her ears sensitive to the cave's creaks and scuffles once more. The sudden withdrawal left her taxed, however, and she blacked out for a moment. When she came to, she was half- sitting, half-lying on the cave floor, a protective cradle wrapped around her shoulders. As her eyes searched for a place to regain its focus, it landed on soft brown orbs that flickered with concern, full, pale lips that bent in a familiar frown, and scattered strands of black curls that framed a shapely face. A rotund figure stood some distance away, holding a gleaming rectangle in its arms and pointing it at the dark hallways that led from the room they were in. Sounds of something heavy being overturned and whistles of delight reached Clarissa's ears, and she felt a smile touch her lips.
After waving off Bethany's offers of healing magic, Clarissa grunted as her sister helped her up. Her back felt sore as if she had endured a day's work, and every bone in her body ached. "I'll live." She muttered, standing upright once again.
A flash of reflected light caught Clarissa's attention, and she turned around to better visualise the source.
The golden longsword hovered in the air, its tip pointed downwards. It shivered and wavered as Clarissa's eyes settled upon it, and seemingly of its own accord, the flat of the blade turned towards her, revealing the same seal that had piqued Clarissa's interest. Only this time, there was something different. Clarissa's eyes narrowed as she tried to make out the subtle, but obvious changes made to the marking, her effort bringing her closer and closer to the hovering blade. She was aware of the sword's hazardous nature, as the imprint on her mind was still vivid, but something about the wavy outline of the blade comforted her, drew her close, and made it easy for her to overpower her own reservations and approach it without fear. It was like the whispers of a familiar voice, long-forgotten but reassuring. It unnerved a small part of Clarissa, but she pushed that small part away as she beheld the altered seal on the crossguard.
The hawk was now accompanied by an eagle, twined intricately with deep-set golden lines as their proud silver eyes gazed into each other. What had once been the hawk's wings in the background was now a separate but whole pair, with the hawk contributing its right wing, and the eagle gracing the seal with its left wing. Their sharp beaks met each other in the dead center of the seal, as if sharing a soft kiss as their talons clutched each others' in an intimate embrace.
Clarissa raised her bracer arm, and saw the identical symbol on the tempered steel.
With a sudden movement, born of confidence she didn't know she had, Clarissa took hold of the sword with her outstretched hand. This time, there was no surge of electricity. This time there was no intruder worming its way into her mind. There was only the feeling of the handle, the balance of hilt and blade, and the feeling of long-awaited reconciliation as the blade pressed itself into her hand. A faint light, cast from matching lines on her sword and her bracer, illuminated her face as a thought hit her, unbidden and without warning.
This is my sword.
Her longsword had served her well, of that there was no doubt. She had cut down many a foe with sure strikes and practiced blows with it, carrying it for nigh on ten years. Somehow, she knew that its time was up. All doubt of that was swept away as she swung the golden blade in an arc, satisfied as it took her almost no effort. She then proceeded to twirl and flourish the blade around her in a flurry, knowing that the complex set of movements would put pause to even her most skilled enemies. The walls shone with savage golden light as the blade flew from one position to another, until Clarissa was finished with her experimentation. A satisfied smile on her face, she turned around to find Bethany walking towards her, happiness for her evident on her face as well. "It's like you have this new toy and," She giggled, "you just can't get enough of it."
"Aw, are you jealous?" Clarissa teased as Isabela nudged Varric to watch the banter unfold. Not wanting to disappoint, she ran a hand down Bethany's back as she settled next to her. "Don't worry, you'll always be my favourite."
Something flickered across Bethany's eyes so fast that Clarissa barely had time to catch it. She had meant it in jest, but despite the mirth that completed the honey brown eyes, she saw something else flash past, something... emotional. Curiosity got the better of her, and she was just about to ask after Bethany when she saw her gasp.
Bethany grabbed hold of her in an instant and pulled her towards herself.
A moment later, a serrated blade cut the spot where Clarissa had been moments before in half.
A dozen Darkspawn materialized out of the shadows, catching the group by surprise. Scanning the snarling beasts, Bethany caught eye of a Hurlock that towered over its comrades, the normally bare and unarmored skull featuring a ghastly helm with horns jutting out to the sides.
After that, there was no time for thoughts, no room for decisions. The Darkspawn fell on them like crows on carrion, separating the group by strength of numbers. Clarissa beheld the familiar sound of Bianca's bayonet sliding out of its concealed slot, moments before the first high-pitched scream hit her ears.
Clarissa blocked a savage sideswipe from a charging Hurlock with her new blade, a resounding pingmaking its way across the chamber. Drawing momentum from the creature itself, Clarissa let her arm fly back, taking her body in a whirling spin before bringing the honed edge through the Hurlock's neck. It passed with little resistance, as a hot knife would when passing through butter. She could not contain her laugh as the dark crimson laced on her blade sliced through the air once more, this time striking another Hurlock on its battered shield and blasting it apart with unparalleled ease. It was as if the blade was in tune with her every movement, privy to her every whim as she swung, cleaved and fenced with unnatural clarity. Every time she brought it round for a deathblow, the blade accentuated her already formidable force, removing second thoughts and making her fight with feral bloodlust; Every time she jammed her heels into the dirt while parrying a Hurlock's frenzied attacks, the blade made her senses crystal-clear, her vision razor-sharp as she took notice of every twitch and shift in her opponent's pose and making it all the easier for her to dispatch her quarry.
A guttural roar caught her attention as she nimbly sidestepped a headlong cleave from the lone, horned Hurlock. A quick scan of the chamber told her that her foe was the only one of the opposition still standing, as corpses bearing burns, stab wounds and arrows through their skulls littered the floor. The Alpha engaged with bestial abandon, battering Clarissa with brutal swings and whooshing blows. The ferocity of its blows put pause to Clarissa's companions- Bethany could not engage the Alpha with her magic, for fear of injuring Clarissa in the process; Isabela's quick, daring strikes were at a loss in the confrontation, as the Hurlock's attacks made it difficult for her to find an opening from which to attack; Varric could not even find a trajectory for Bianca that would not include Clarissa, courtesy of their personal engagement. They could only watch as the deadly dance of pitch-black against rugged gold unfolded before their eyes.
Their blades locked as their eyes met, forcing warrior and Darkspawn into a match of strength. While Clarissa had the advantage of the blade's intangible aid, the Alpha responded with its unnatural strength, borne of its Tainted blood. They held in such a position for some time, neither side willing to budge as their eyes engaged in a clash of will. The Hurlock glared at her with single-minded determination, bloodlust fueling it to press and press until she yielded in the straight-up match of muscles. A plan formed in Clarissa's mind.
Time to turn the tables.
Without warning, Clarissa adjusted the angle with which she applied force to, forcing the blades to go sideways and straining the Alpha's thick wrist to twist to the left. The Alpha growled and tried to respond, but it was too late. It grunted heavily as Clarissa's bracer, hard and unforgiving, smashed across the side of its helmet. The helmet displaced, the left-side horn now facing Clarissa as the plate metal obscured the creature's vision. For a moment, the Alpha disengaged, the darkness in front of its eyes confusing it momentarily. Its other hand reached up to readjust the wayward helmet just as Clarissa, without the luxury of planning, stabbed the golden sword deep into the Alpha's abdomen.
A roar of pain and anger echoed as the Alpha swung its sword sideways blindly, making Clarissa duck, prance backwards and take her blade with her. With its helmet back in place, it snarled evilly at Clarissa, taunting her and chuckling. With a swift, perhaps planned, motion, it picked up an intact shield and retreated down a flight of stone stairs. Frustrated at letting her prey taunt her and escape her at the same time, Clarissa took no heed of her sister's warning and bounded after the fleeing Hurlock with her companions tailing her.
The fleeing Hurlock led Clarissa on a merry chase, clambering down flights of stairs and leading her deeper and deeper into the labyrinthine catacombs. Left and right the passages went, amazing Clarissa with their complexity and undermining her hopes of retracing her steps back to the surface. With detached interest, she saw that the Hurlock had led her past a grand arch that signalled a change in her surroundings from narrow passageways to a comparatively larger hall. Three stone doorways, all leading to different directions, stood on the far end of the hall. They were the only way out of the hall, and the Hurlock was nowhere to be seen. Behind her, she could faintly hear the multitude of footsteps that heralded her companions' arrival.
The very air shifted as Isabela's boots crossed the threshold, as the trap sprung to life.
A golden curtain coalesced in the high arch, shifting and translucent as a hiss of compressed air squeezed past the curtain, sealing the doorway from which Clarissa had just come. The yellow light solidified into flowing canvas just as Clarissa pounded her fist on the barrier, trying to break through. To her disappointment, the barrier was as stalwart as thickened steel.
They were trapped.
Clarissa swore loudly as chain of events unraveled itself.
The more-than-useless ambush.
The fleeing Alpha.
The downward spiral.
She bought it all. Hook, line, and sinker.
She bought it all, and now they were trapped.
A rumbling roar shook the hall, reverberating off the stone walls and the tall pillars that lined the center. It carried with it the long-forgotten menace Clarissa had tried so hard to forget, making old fears return and an all-too-familiar chill to run down her spine, even after it faded into nothing. A quick look back at dwindling brown eyes told her that she was not alone. Wordlessly, she walked up to the leftmost end of the hall, where a patch of the wall was missing, a tear in the very fabric of the world revealing nothing but black as she weighed her options. She grasped her sheathed sword tightly, futilely seeking comfort in the soft, worn handle as fear and anger waged war in her mind.
"We'll... uh, we'll just set camp here. I need a breather anyway." Murmured Varric, who knew better than to disturb Clarissa. Isabela started after her but was held back by a short arm and a curt shake of Varric's head.
Fingers, soft and cool, wrapped around Clarissa's shoulder as Bethany appeared to her right, startling her with silent footsteps and calming her with soothing touches. There's something about her younger sister that brought complete peace to her, emptying the world and its worries in her sincere, warm gaze until there was nothing left except for her, and her alone. Still, she let her duty overrule her and her lips moved of their own accord.
"It's my fault. I led us into this." She lowered her eyes, not wanting to meet Bethany's. Her body was beset by multiple strains of thought running through her: Her fists clenched and unclenched in frustration; Her eyes averted others' apologetically; Her legs trembled unwillingly out of fear that her worst nightmares would come true. Of all of them, her fear unnerved her the most- She needed to be strong. She and Bethany were the only ones who have truly faced Darkspawn in bulk, and even so the ones they had fought were merely roving bands of stragglers and scouts.
Now they were in their territory.
She's already lost once. How can she endanger her again? What more must she lose?
"Don't give me that." A soft voice cooed, bringing Clarissa's eyes level again. "Don't shut me out." Bethany said, as if she was the older sister consoling a frightened sibling. With her words came a silent promise, a soft-spoken guarantee that everything would be all right. An overly optimistic prospect, perhaps, but the way it was veiled gave Clarissa courage. She beat away the coldness clawing at her limbs, taking back the tears of despair and letting ones of gratitude spill over as she smiled, grateful that she had Bethany by her side.
Together.
The word shook with power in her mind, repeating itself as it echoed away. Clarissa searched Bethany's eyes and found the same word veiled in determined brown eyes as the bond between flared to life, accentuating the one word that meant the world to them.
Always.
Clarissa felt herself edge forward, as Bethany's cool fingers left trails of fire across her cheek. Not once did her gaze flinch from Bethany's, as the distance between them closed. Slowly. Surely.
Brown eyes flickered as tears welled, reflecting violet-blue orbs that was her own. She was so close, closer than she had even been before. Full lips beckoned to her like never before. Want, desire and unbridled affection, towards the only one she loved, the only one she wanted to be together with, the only one she cherished always. She whispered her name, softly, in askance. There were no words in response, no words that could convey. Her eyes said it all.
Forever.
Bethany's lips were soft and welcoming as she softly brushed a kiss onto them, her eyes closing in rapture at the feeling she has longed for eighteen years. It was as if her very soul opened to Bethany, all of her emotions there for her taking. She let out a small moan as she parted, stiffening in fearful surprise as Bethany's bewildered eyes, blushing cheeks and half-open lips greeted her vision.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean t-" Her next words were cut off as Bethany stepped forward and claimed her in a long kiss, her soft, cool fingers twining behind her head as dizzying passion swam through their lips and into hearts that burned with desire. Clarissa absently felt her back hit cold, hard stone, but she didn't care. All she felt was the numbing fire running through her limbs as Bethany pressed herself against her, every inch of her exposed skin coming into contact with the silken, perfect curves she had lusted after for so long. She didn't want that moment to end, as her arms reached behind Bethany and pulled her close. Bethany's lips tasted of honey, sweet, addictive honey that had Clarissa moaning in pleasure as their kiss deepened, eliciting similar moans from her sister.
Her sister.
Oh Maker, no.
Arms untangled, bodies pushed apart and lips were forced away as Clarissa gasped for breath, the sudden conflict of her heart and mind beginning all over again. She knew not why she pulled away. She knew not why she should have. Her whole self was in a jumbled mess as she tried to compose herself. She felt her sword trembling of its own accord in its sheath.
Lips pressed tightly together. Fingers intertwined in her hair. Bodies melding into one.
"I'm sorry. I-" Words could not serve her. Not after what her sister did to her with only her lips, setting her ablaze and her heart go wild.
"I need... time..." She felt torn in half. Again, as she backed away, leaving Bethany, her sister, her lover, alone amidst the lonely stone pillars.
/Have you all been waiting for this? I hope you have, for I, for one, have been waiting to write this scene for some time! I hope I don't disappoint, but if I did, please point out what you'd like me to improve upon. The next chapter will be forthcoming in no time, and perhaps with some bumps along the road for our Clarissa as well.../