An old soul

Likes will be ignored.

It was getting closer.  Too close.  Soon Mareloen will leave and she will be left to take care of the estate.  Gone to Tevinter without her.  Just as she wished…  

But now things were different.  There was no one keeping her here.  There was Leon but well… 

Her heart still aches thinking of such things.  She was silly to think that it would lead anywhere.  Even if he made her believe so she should have known better.  And yet… 

It was far too easy to get caught up in the fantasy of it all.  She used those words once with Mareloen and he didn’t seem to favor them all too much.  Her fantasy and his nightmare if she recalls correctly.  Something about how Leon would have succumbed to mortality in half a century and the problems it would have caused.  Genevive wonders… Sometimes it seems like Mareloen forgets that she too is mortal.  That she too will fall ill to the fate of humanity.  Half a century… To her it seems like a long while away but to Mareloen it’s not much more than a blink of an eye she’d suppose.  They are so different…  One day she will be gone and he living as if she never had existed.  Perhaps not at first but after a couple decades or centuries surely her memory must fade from his mind.  And there’s a pang in her chest at such thoughts.  A sadness to it all.  When will it end?  All the hurt…  Genevieve remembers a time all she really felt was joy.  A time she was able to find the positive of even the most negative but it seems as if the tide has turned and such things are becoming harder and harder.  A certain despair…  A hopelessness to the future.  

But alas… Best not dwell on such.  She can still put on a smile and pretend everything is alright.  For now that’s all she can do…

Like now!  Grabbing the basket of goodies she puts on a smile and greets Mareloen as he enters the kitchen.  She was going to find him but this works too!  

“Goodmorning,” she greets all too cheery, the sound dancing off the walls to an almost eerie tune.  “I made you some muffins.  They’re fresh, straight from the oven.”  Recently Genevieve has taken up baking as a way to pass time when she wasn’t studying or training.  It was always easier to go to the market and buy her morning treats but now the market has become a place she avoids, everything reminding her of him.  “I’m hoping they turned out better than the last batch.  I couldn’t even get Hawke to swallow one and that man will eat anything.  But I’m fairly certain I used the sugar instead of salt this time around.  It’s not my fault they look deceptively similar.  Quite suspicious if you ask me,” she jests, holding one out for him.  “I used blueberries and lemon this time.  They smell quite good, hopefully they’ll match in taste.”  But her eyes shine, a sorrow laden deep within.  “I know it probably won’t be as good as the ones I’d bring from the market but hopefully they aren’t too disappointing.”  Looking up at him she waits for him to take a bite, a tad nervous for some reason.  “I hope to perfect them before your journey.  I wish to slip a few in your pack.  Something to remember me by.  There are only a few days left before you leave…”  

Things were hectic to say the least.  Tevinter was no small journey after all and they needed to make sure Mareloen left with everything he needed.  If only he needed her as well…  But alas.  It was her choice.  Her decision.  And she doesn’t have the heart to ask to come with.  Not when they spent the past couple of weeks going over her tasks and duties here while he was away.  There were too many responsibilities that needed to be taken care of and there was no one else to do them but her. 

“Ah!  Not so tight Desdemona!”  Genevieve gasps as the other woman, well, abomination, tightens the corset.  “How I pity the prey of snakes, nothing could be worse than a fate such as this.”  Though the desire does not heed her wishes and pulls harder, further securing the structure in place, resulting in yet another pained yelp.  “Maker help me, Desdemona if you make it any tighter I fear I’ll die before the ball.  I’m not turning blue yet am I?  I can barely breathe.  Or move.”   

“If you are I wouldn’t know the makeup is doing a good job covering it up.  The mask will help too.  And don’t blame me for your faults, if you didn’t slouch so much I wouldn’t have to wind you up so tightly,” she nonchalantly replies, pulling a little too harshly on the strings.  “There.”  Taking a step back the desire admires her handy work.  She really went all out on this one.  The beading, the lace, the color; it was perfect.  “Now your hair.” 

—

Three more torturous hours pass before Desdemona deems her presentable.  Three more hours until they head to the carriage and make their way to the event.  It was very important things go well tonight.  Mareloen made that certain.  For what he still has yet to fully explain but she assumes it relates to Tevinter in one way or another.  Or the forgotten ones.  Or the ancient elves or something along those lines.  She honestly can’t keep up anymore.  It’s been hard on her since his departure.  The woman was so used to having him by her side she forgot what it was like without him.  Lonely.  That was the best way to describe it.  She hasn’t even been able to see Paien or any of her other circle friends.  All she had was Snickerdoodle and while great for company the not so little anymore nug doesn’t provide the best conversation.  And for the bird, well he looks upon her differently ever since that whole ‘cheating’ fiasco.  He may be stealthy about it but the change is still noticeable.  

And as the carriage comes to a sudden halt and the sound of horns play a proud tune she knows she’s reached her final destination.  Her heart beats out of her chest, the nerves settling in all at once.  The last time she went to any event close to this stature she was with him…  Her Mareloen.  No.  Just Mareloen.  He wasn’t hers.  But still… It didn’t feel right.  She didn’t know how she was going to do this without him.  

Meanwhile Mareloen found himself wondering whether he was wasting ink... and paper ... and time... It has all been going quite well so far, even the experiments proved to finally show some progress with drawing back the red lyrium. A method seemed to have started emerging and most remaining test subjects didn’t seem to be dying off so far. But should he really be recording it or was this merely a way to get his mind of other matters?

His thoughts jumped back to Genevieve. Not that he wasn’t getting some reports on her wellbeing, but demons were not the most reliable source of information when it came to ones happines. Not to mention her first ball was tonight... well... first ball alone in the midst of all those pretentious shems. Not that she wouldn’t manage to uphold appearances, but still... He was worried.

It was getting closer.  Too close.  Soon Mareloen will leave and she will be left to take care of the estate.  Gone to Tevinter without her.  Just as she wished…  

But now things were different.  There was no one keeping her here.  There was Leon but well… 

Her heart still aches thinking of such things.  She was silly to think that it would lead anywhere.  Even if he made her believe so she should have known better.  And yet… 

It was far too easy to get caught up in the fantasy of it all.  She used those words once with Mareloen and he didn’t seem to favor them all too much.  Her fantasy and his nightmare if she recalls correctly.  Something about how Leon would have succumbed to mortality in half a century and the problems it would have caused.  Genevive wonders… Sometimes it seems like Mareloen forgets that she too is mortal.  That she too will fall ill to the fate of humanity.  Half a century… To her it seems like a long while away but to Mareloen it’s not much more than a blink of an eye she’d suppose.  They are so different…  One day she will be gone and he living as if she never had existed.  Perhaps not at first but after a couple decades or centuries surely her memory must fade from his mind.  And there’s a pang in her chest at such thoughts.  A sadness to it all.  When will it end?  All the hurt…  Genevieve remembers a time all she really felt was joy.  A time she was able to find the positive of even the most negative but it seems as if the tide has turned and such things are becoming harder and harder.  A certain despair…  A hopelessness to the future.  

But alas… Best not dwell on such.  She can still put on a smile and pretend everything is alright.  For now that’s all she can do…

Like now!  Grabbing the basket of goodies she puts on a smile and greets Mareloen as he enters the kitchen.  She was going to find him but this works too!  

“Goodmorning,” she greets all too cheery, the sound dancing off the walls to an almost eerie tune.  “I made you some muffins.  They’re fresh, straight from the oven.”  Recently Genevieve has taken up baking as a way to pass time when she wasn’t studying or training.  It was always easier to go to the market and buy her morning treats but now the market has become a place she avoids, everything reminding her of him.  “I’m hoping they turned out better than the last batch.  I couldn’t even get Hawke to swallow one and that man will eat anything.  But I’m fairly certain I used the sugar instead of salt this time around.  It’s not my fault they look deceptively similar.  Quite suspicious if you ask me,” she jests, holding one out for him.  “I used blueberries and lemon this time.  They smell quite good, hopefully they’ll match in taste.”  But her eyes shine, a sorrow laden deep within.  “I know it probably won’t be as good as the ones I’d bring from the market but hopefully they aren’t too disappointing.”  Looking up at him she waits for him to take a bite, a tad nervous for some reason.  “I hope to perfect them before your journey.  I wish to slip a few in your pack.  Something to remember me by.  There are only a few days left before you leave…”  

Things were hectic to say the least.  Tevinter was no small journey after all and they needed to make sure Mareloen left with everything he needed.  If only he needed her as well…  But alas.  It was her choice.  Her decision.  And she doesn’t have the heart to ask to come with.  Not when they spent the past couple of weeks going over her tasks and duties here while he was away.  There were too many responsibilities that needed to be taken care of and there was no one else to do them but her. 

Not again…

But there really wasn’t much he could do, was there?

Mareloen took a bite out of the suspiciously vibrant purple muffin shaped torture device and nodded, jesting and making noises to compliment Genevieve on the exquisite taste…

Why did this feel like more of a lie than anything else?

After juggling the ongoing experiment on her traitor friend, the prisoners … and some other prisoners… and Leon’s soon-to-be tragic ending, an estate full of demons and their pet “ Bird” getting more and more nosy by the day, we’ll… lying about a muffin shouldn’t have been this hard.

Mareloen forced a miserable smile and swallowed, trying to ignore the overwhelming sweetness and crack of eggshells on his teeth. What was little suffering next to seeing Genevieve happy again? Or perhaps a little further from the verge of tears?

“ Wonderful… thank you…” he finally muttered, trying to slip the rest of the muffin into his pocket, - “ Ah… I wanted to talk to you, but… Do we have tea? Or something to drink?”

Anything. Now. Please.

Suddenly he felt a pull on the sleeve - it was Granny Screech holding up the infamous tea. Mareloen hesitantly accepted the cup, but suddenly felt much less thirsty.

But he wishes to speak to her?  About what she wonders… 

Genevieve accepts the cup from screech and unlike Mareloen takes a sip, quite surprised by the taste, finding it quite pleasant before the drink deceptively warps in her mouth, turning sour, sweet, and tart all at once before an encore of mouldy cheese follows, assaulting her poor taste buds.  Alas, the drink leaves her mouth and ends up back into the cup, some of the tea not so gracefully dripping down her chin as her mouth turns a scowl.  Well… That was something else entirely.  But regardless she politely nods at screech assuring it that her palette was just not dignified enough to indulge in it’s creation, it was her fault and not the despairs.  

“Oh?  Is that so?”  An uneasy feeling arises, Genevieve unable to wash it away.  She never went to an event alone before.  Was this to be the first time?  “I suppose I’ll have to make an appearance all by my lonesome without my handsome husband there by my side.  Quite scandalous, but also bold.”  She wishes that’s not the case.  A room full of shem nobles is the last place the woman would wish to blend into on her own.  “I hope they have tiny cakes there.  The ones with chocolate icing!  Those are my most favored.”  While she speaks with ease the conversation is almost forced on her end, Genevieve nervous of what such an event might entail.  But it’s best she not get herself too worked up about it until she knows just what Mareloen is talking about.  

It’s going to be hard without him here.  Yet she also finds it hard with him here for some reason.  Things… they just aren’t the same.  Not like they used to be.  Not like they were before Leon…  

Letting out some muffled happy sounds the despair grabbed a tray with more tea and hurried of with a noticeable bounce in each step.

“ .... I think we broke that demon,” Mareloen noted when it was finally out of the room and moved to empty his cup into the nearest flower pot. “ Ah... maybe it will work as a fertilizer? Or a herbicide... Are you alright, lath? Seriously, you shouldn’t drink the stuff.”

He only wished he could do the same with the muffin - Mareloen could feel the soggy stickiness spread from his pocket. Great. Now he would need to go change and possibly enchant a few pockets in case Genevieve firmly decided to take after her fictional mother.

“ Now, about that event... I do not think mother dearest should come along. I am a little worried about both the illusion and behavior. Being out on the street is one thing, drawing attention to yourself in the middle of a party is another,” Mareloen began. He’d been thinking about it for the past few hours and couldn’t really come up with a proper solution, “ The desire triplets could pull it off, but if you are not strict enough, your staff will wonder seducing both guests and hosts. If it was about sex, I would not be worried. But some servant may lust to see their masters severed head on a silver platter.... and let’s face it, Gem, you are terribly soft with all of them. Now, Hawke is not an option either. Not yet. We will need him a little later.”

Then there was the abomination...

#austen or #tolkien

“ I am not a good man. My family are good people, so trust me - I know the difference. I’ve tried to be one, but there is blood on my hands and….” - he caught his tongue before he could say something that could potentially hurt his family if Iveani was to return to her people.

“ … I am weird… I constantly run from demons in my nightmares. I can’t stand crowds and I see things that are not there. Things that can’t be true… Some places make me feel like I am clearly loosing my mind! … And yes - you’re not the first person to think I’m a mage. But that is the one thing I’m not.”

There, he said it. She wouldn’t want anything to do with him now… not anymore - Daime was sure of it.

It didn’t seem possible to feel his heart ache more than it already did, but just now it completely fell to pieces… But it was better this way - to just get it over with now and be done!

“ I….”

He didn’t know what else to say.

“ I’ve nothing left to say. You really don’t need me, Iveani… there’s already too much on your hands,” - he added very quietly, - “ I’ve made it here… I’ll make it there.”

“I’ve killed people, too, Daime. I want to be with you. Whatever the problem is, I’m sure we can work through it together.”

Sure, she’d never killed anyone before the Inquisition, but since then, who knew how many lives she’d taken? She liked to think everyone deserved it, but could she ever really know for sure? It’d be hypocritical of her to refuse to be with someone just because of that.

As for the rest… they had the Inquisition. If he wanted to find a way to get rid of the nightmares, they could try their best. If not, she also got nightmares. They could live with them together.

“ Mother!...” - a second voice tried to object, but the first woman would have none of it.

“ I haven’t spent a week fighting his fever for him to jump up on that horned thing and break his neck somewhere.”

Daime took a deep breath. Privacy on the farm was nonexistent. The shabby walls weren’t helping much...

“ I am quite well...” - he tried to object, Dennets wife Elaina would have none of it.

The elf’s eyes widened as he looked down at the girl who just seemed to come crashing down from nowhere and landing at his feet. He would’ve been so much more surprised had he not been this hungover.

Alright, so this would be the first and last time he’d trusted a Shem on the matter of alcohol...

She stretched out her arms backwards, causally, as if she wasn't talking about life and death.

The whole situation started him on thinking in a whole new direction - with this girl unexpected possibilities began springing up from the ground like nugs on a spring day.

The elf’s eyes widened as he looked down at the girl who just seemed to come crashing down from nowhere and landing at his feet. He would’ve been so much more surprised had he not been this hungover.

Alright, so this would be the first and last time he’d trusted a Shem on the matter of alcohol...

He pondered over something for a bit and then added.

She gave him a sly smirk. "I don't think it matters wether you try to get rid of humans or elves, either party will revolt. And despair is a powerful motivator to do extraordinary things."

“ Do you really? Because I would much rather hear you change your mind now, then lather,” - Daime paused for both to try letting the message get across and gather his thoughts - the second half was easier said than done.

“ You have been honest with me, but I can’t claim to have ever been equally open with you fearing I’d loose you… but what can I say, I have always been weird. My entire damn clan knows it and I’ve been on this ice with them for years.”

He looked at her wondering whether she’d walk out at this point.

“I’m not going anywhere unless you want me to go,” she assured him. She instinctively reached out to touch him, but thought better of it. She didn’t know if he was ready for that yet, or if he was still too angry at her.

“You’re a good man, Daime. If the rest of the clan doesn’t recognize that, that’s their fault.”

“ ... I am weird... I constantly run from demons in my nightmares. I can’t stand crowds and I see things that are not there. Things that can’t be true... Some places make me feel like I am clearly loosing my mind! ... And yes - you’re not the first person to think I’m a mage. But that is the one thing I’m not.”

There, he said it. She wouldn’t want anything to do with him now... not anymore - Daime was sure of it.

It didn’t seem possible to feel his heart ache more than it already did, but just now it completely fell to pieces... But it was better this way - to just get it over with now and be done!

“ I....”

He didn’t know what else to say.

She thought about Iveani’s question.

“ Start by saying - andaran atish’an. It’s a greeting in our language…. Our clan doesn’t use it as much as we’d like, but try your best to learn as much as you can,” she suggested as they entered the arravel. Once back in the space, she heated for Iveani to sit on the couch and walked over to what seemed to be a large stone surface. Taking out 2 rocks from a small wooden box she began working on extracting some sparks right onto the surface. For a few moments nothing seemed to be happening, but suddenly the dark stone came aglow with hundreds of small runes.

“ My grandfather, Daime’s great grandfather, was clan keeper. He made this for grandmae…” - she explained, deciding to entertain the girl to make her feel a bit safer, - “ He would enchant things so everyone could use magic and what is left of his creations works to this very day… He was also a great mage that drove our people away from the shemlen. And gave his life so we could all live in peace. So if anyone gives you a hard time because of your origin, you straight up remind them that their great grandparents went through the exact same thing.”

Picking up a pan and some eggs, she began working on a quick non dairy snack.

“… Just a few more minutes.”

“Andaran atish’an?” she repeated, wanting to make sure she pronounced it correctly. The last thing she wanted to do was get thrown out for something so little.

Iveani sat down on the couch, feeling bad that she was making something new. She’d only meant it to explain why she’d feel sick later, so no one would have to take her to a healer. The last thing she wanted to do was inconvenience anyone more than absolutely necessary. They wouldn’t turn her away over this, would they? Still, she was already cooking.

“He’s sensible when it countd and I guess that’s what matters... I just don’t understand why he can’t be more like Bow.... I mean Adri..Adrian is our eldest. You’ll meet him and Naeth when the hunters are back.”

It wasn’t long before the woman returned with some scrambled eggs served with herbs and spices and some funny looking bread. She seemed to be caught up in thought, but as she places the wooden plate in front of Iveani, she ave finally looked down at the girl.

“ I am quite serious. If you find yourself unable to sleep or need me for whatever reason… just one rule…no wait - two. You knock and you tell me if you are upset before passing through the door - I drop my wards in there and if for some reason you are unhappy, I need a moment to get them back up… or it feels like waking up from hearing a despair scratching a chalkboard,” - Mareloen chuckled at the comparison he come up with. Not that it felt exactly like that, but he wanted to give her a relatable image.

“…. and one more thing…” - he added suddenly, a little surprised at himself for opening his mouth about… but perhaps it was something he’d dreamed of himself when he was still very young, - “ I may know who your father is… But considering keeping you safe was his responsibility and that was a major fuck up on his behalf… I do not know if you would want anything to do with that man.”

Mareloen paused, considering whether to continue or not - he did.

“ I probably would have strangled him on sight, but they tell me he was looking for you. It is only fair that you decide whether you would like to know him.”

Iveani nodded to show her understanding, but she was more concerned with the news about her father.

“How do you know?” she asked.