#elvara

“I’m not one to argue with parental issues, so…fine. But only one!” Selene says pointedly and Serahlin nods. Yes, just one, it’s all she needs she just…her mother is coming to her college. Her and Adannar are still relatively new and they do not need the strain that her mother always brings to things.

Felena Elethari is…she’s….

She’s a lot of things. Serahlin takes cares to remind herself that first and foremost, she’s her mother and she loves her. She is family and clan.

Selene leads Serahlin back to her apartment. They talk idly about plans to study for political science together, and a social Serahlin’s sorority is throwing soon. It’s for the frats and sororities, but Serahlin is sure she can either swing it so that Selene can go or get one of the guys to ask her. Particularly a certain guy.

Selene sighs at her for that but doesn’t protest over much.

When they get to the apartment, Selene offers something to eat or drink, which Serahlin declines politely. She really just needs that cigarette. Selene disappears into her room and comes out with a single cigarette. She holds it from Serahlin for a moment.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, now please hand over the coping mechanism,” Serahlin instructs. Selene relents and hands it over. Serahlin holds it while she searches through her purse to find a light.

Dammit.

Her eyes plead with Selene and the woman rolls her eyes.

“Really?”

“If you knew her, you’d understand,” Serahlin pleads.

“Fine, but outside.”

“That’s fair.”

Outside, Selene ignites a flame at the tip of her finger and Serahlin holds the cigarette over it. It lights and she pulls it to her mouth to drag on it. She holds the smoke for a moment then lets it out on a long exhale.

“My mother is not a bad person,” Serahlin says.

“Didn’t say she was.”

“She’s just…very invested in herself.”

“That’s a polite way of saying selfish,” Selene argues. Serahlin goes quiet for a moment, wanting to argue but her chest feels too tight and her head too chaotic to form a coherent and convincing argument to say that her mother isn’t selfish.

She probably is. It’s one of Memae’s favorite insults for her. Selfish. Drama-queen. Narcissist.

Manipulative.

“It’s her birthday soon, which may be why she’s coming,” Serahlin says instead.

“I haven’t seen her for the last two, I’ve been too busy with classes and it’s bothered her.” Serahlin doesn’t mention the number of belated or absent birthday wishes she has gotten from her mother. She runs a free hand through her hair and tries to think how to deal with this.

“You don’t talk about your mamae a lot,” Selene says.

“Memae and Mamae divorced when I was five, it was not amicable. And because of Memae’s connections, she won custody over me.”

“What about your sister?”

“Mamae raised her. The clan made a fuss about Elvara being biologically Dalish, while I am not.” Another long drag on the cigarette. Serahlin doesn’t blame the clan, they’re mostly good people, but they fought harder for Elvara to remain with them than they did for Serahlin.

Selene lets out a long breath.

“But we spent summers switched. I love the clan, and when the time came to get my Vallaslin, I took it. Elvara has yet to do so.” Part of her thinks that she took the ceremony partially out of spite. Some of the clan doesn’t recognize her, but now they are bound by clan law to recognize her Dalish rite. And any children born of her are also given that rite.

Another part of her knows that she will not live with the clan after college. There is too much bad blood. But she’ll take her children, she knows. To visit the clan.

“I love my mother,” she says.

Selene looks over at her, eyes heavy, “It’s alright if you don’t.”

**

Serahlin spends the morning of her mother’s plane arrival cleaning her sorority house and switching between various outfits. Memae always liked modern, fashionable clothing and bought such clothing for Serahlin. She is largely responsible for Serahlin’s love of fashion. They have a tradition of catching the winter show in Val Rayoux. Mamae, however, is…different. She is at the point of looking attractive and traditional.

The outfit she eventually lands on is a pair of skinny jeans and a traditional blue blouse with a white coat. She matches it with a pair of leather footwraps, and a simple braid. Her makeup is almost non-existent, just foundation, nude eyeshadow, mascara, and some strategically placed highlighter to emphasize her vallaslin.

She doesn’t look so much like the self she is here at college, but that’s alright. She isn’t to be Serahlin the college student today but Serahlin the daughter, the Dalish girl.

The drive to the airport is long and when she gets there, Mamae is waiting with her bags. Rather than dress for Ferelden weather, Mamae is dressed in something more akin to a long summer dress that has a distinctly Dalish pattern on it. But her sunglasses are large and belong to one of the premier designers from Orlais. They are so large that they largely conceal the green lines dedicating her to Mythal.

Serahlin steps out from her car and rushes up to greet her mother.

“Aneth’ara, Mamae,” Serahlin greets, kissing her mother’s cheeks. Mamae laughs and hugs her quickly. She smells of expensive perfume and airplane, her hands are cold on Serahlin’s skin.

“Oh da’len it so good to see you! I just wish I had seen you sooner when my plane had landed,” she coos, smiling and squeezing Serahlin’s arms.

“There was traffic –

“Remember da’len, we don’t give excuses, just apologies for when we mess up.” Mamae pats her cheek then gestures at the bags at her feet with a long suffering sigh.

“The airplane was just awful on me, dear, could you get the bags? Ah there’s a good daughter, thank you,” she says before even waiting for Serahlin’s reply. She slips into the passenger seat and begins to touch up her makeup while Serahlin puts the bags in the trunk. Her arms strain at the unexpected weight and something pulls in her shoulder but she keeps her mouth shut as she returns to the driver’s seat.

Mamae packs away her compact and smiles at Serahlin, “It is so good to see you! It’s been so long! Thankfully the business understands me taking off time for my birthday. Though what a terrible thing to spend a birthday on a plane. There was a screaming baby not too far from me and someone had their dog aboard the main cabin. How can anyone be so inconsiderate? Common decency has left modern society, I tell you.”

It is over an hour of listening to her mother gab on about the plane and the travel and the tiny yapping bichon. Serahlin nods and interjects rudimentary pleasantries when she can. Mamae is always a bit testy after travel, but she’ll calm down. It is simply tedious in the meantime.

“I got us reservations at this delightful restaurant downtown. They serve the most amazing garlic knots and have a delicious chocolate cake that I think you will love,” Serahlin says when they edge closer to the college town.

“Oh dear, da’len, I forgot to tell you. I’m going gluten free now, it’s really the best medical policy. Have you heard that Dr. Boz? Well, he said that gluten is really just creating pockets in our bodies for impurities or something like that, and that just sounds like the worst thing. I am going to throw away all of your gluten-y things when get to your house, I’m sure your sisters don’t want impurities in them!”

Serahlin blinks for a moment.

“We can find a gluten-free restaurant just fine, I know of one and it is delicious. But Mamae, that Dr. Boz is a hoax. Gluten doesn’t…that’s not what gluten does, we don’t have impurities.”

“Now that’s just silly, he wants to help people! Otherwise he wouldn’t be doing what he’s doing, just because you disagree with him you shouldn’t call him such nasty names.”

“I apologize, but please don’t throw away people’s food, it’d be a bit rude.” She regrets the words almost immediately. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees her mother frown and her voice grows dark.

“Serahlin Elethari Mercier, are you calling your mother rude?” Her tone snaps up in a heartbeat and Serahlin holds her tongue again. She slowly inclines her head in apology.

“No, Mamae, of course not.”

“Because it sounded awfully like you were. Apologize, da’len, it is exceptionally distasteful to insult your mother like that.”

An uneasiness settles in Serahlin’s gut. She’s been away from Mamae too long, she’s forgotten herself, forgotten how to…say things. She lets her face go placid and misleadingly kind.

“Abelas, Mamae.”

And just like that the air shifts again as Mamae sighs, reaches over and strokes Serahlin’s cheek.

“This place has dulled your accent, you don’t sound like the sweet girl I know,” she complains. Serahlin doesn’t reply to it. Her accent is only slightly different, not enough to be worrisome, not even to the clan.

Her grip tightens on the steering wheel and she tries to change the subject to her classes. But no, that’s self-centered of her. Fine, what about the clan? Oh the clan is how the clan always is, reliant upon Mamae to make all the money with her business. Some of the clan feel like she’s selling out but they don’t complain when it’s her money that keeps the clan’s lands theirs and out of the hands of a giant company.

That…is legitimate. But Serahlin also knows that Memae donates to the clan’s coffers and holds fundraisers for them every so often in Montfort. But that is not to be mentioned. Mamae is clearly the hero here and any mention of her ex-wife is…not a good plan.

How is the business doing? Booming, apparently. Dalish styles are in-fashion which means her hand-crafted items are in demand, particularly for their branding of authenticity. As much as she makes herself out to be this sweet, kindly woman, Mamae is very much a shrewd business woman. She hounds those who produce fakes and wiggles her way into markets to show off her authentic merchandise.

Her aravel is barely considered an aravel by standards. It is large, unwieldy, and completely immobile. The hideously large structure is another slap in the face to the clan about their inability to be nomads.

And she tells Serahlin that her accent is changed not to be more Ferelden but Orelsian. Her makeup is on too thick and it’s hiding the extensive Vallaslin on her face. She slips her sunglasses on and Serahlin can almost pretend her mother is a city elf.

They finally reach Mamae’s hotel and quickly get her things up to her room. She requests a shower and takes over an hour, all the while Serahlin scrolls through her phone and tries to not make any noise. She scrolls through all the upcoming spring fashions. Pink pearls and lace, flowing tops and long skirts that will go well with ankle jewelry that Adannar seems to be enamored with currently.

Serahlin texts with her boyfriend and crafts a suitably reassuring text to Selene’s how is everything? She even corresponds with some of her sorority sisters, distracting herself further from her mother in the bathroom.

She loves her mother. She loves her mother.

She does.

“Serahlin!” Mamae calls after the water switches off, “be a dear and grab me my long pale blue dress?” For the next hour, Serahlin helps Mamae get ready for dinner. She goes on about the terrible airplane food and about the screaming baby and the inability of parents these days to keep their babies quiet.

“Don’t spoil your children, Serahlin, they’ll turn out insufferable,” she warns.

You spoil her, Janelle!

Your mother spoils you, Serahlin. Tsk, tsk, listen to Mamae.

Serahlin blinks and the moment passes. Mamae finishes putting her makeup on and taps on her phone for a long moment.

“Now what restaurant were you thinking about? Because I am looking here and…Fresh the Bistro sounds delicious, and it’s only fifteen minutes away! We should go there,” Mamae insists. It’s not the restaurant Serahlin was thinking of, but it’s her birthday so it’s not an issue.

They head over to the restaurant, Mamae babbling away on events in the clan. Something uncoils in Serahlin and she thinks that tonight can almost be pleasant. The food will probably be lackluster, but Mamae seems to be in high spirits and happy enough to simply gossip.

“Don’t dilly dally, da’len,” Mamae comments when they arrive and she quickly heads for the door. Serahlin’s brow draws together – she’s in a rush. Though she’s not sure why.

The interior is bland, mostly off-whites and beiges, but at least it’s not absolutely horrendous. Mamae talks to the hostess oddly enough and they are taken back to a table –

Where Elvara is sitting.

Serahlin’s throat closes up and her back goes rigid. No. What is she doing here? She’s supposed to be off on an island somewhere, modelling or tricking men into giving her money, not…here.

“Sit down, Serahlin, don’t be rude, say hi to your sister.”

“What is this?” Serahlin says instead.

“Sit. Down. Then we will talk,” Mamae says, her voice stern. Serahlin’s hands shake before she consciously stills them. Elvara looks…emaciated. Thinner than she was before and she was already a slender woman.

Serahlin grabs a seat and lowers herself to it. Her back remains ramrod straight and her heart hammers in her chest. It makes sense now, why Mamae went on about Dr. Boz and gluten. She doesn’t really think gluten does that, but Elvara may. And this was all just a ploy to get Serahlin here.

“Now, we are going to discuss how this can be fixed, but first, we need to agree on an appetizer. The…cauliflower bites sound good to me,” Mamae goes on.

“That’s fine,” Serahlin bites out. Elvara sighs and stares at her menu.

“Fine,” she says. Mamae nods then orders for them all. Cauliflower bites and water with lemon for all of them.

“Hold the lemon for mine, please,” Serahlin requests.

“The lemon –

“Sours my water,” Serahlin interrupts, unwilling to give any inch now. Her mother really…Elvara did this. She isn’t ready to forgive, she isn’t ready to talk about it. And yet she is forced to be here, sitting across from her sister who doesn’t give a shit about what she’s done.

Mamae purses her lips and the server leaves with the order.

“There has been a disappointing amount of communication, Serahlin,” Mamae says.

“I’ve been preoccupied with classes and activities,” she says.

“What did I say about excuses? You are just like your mother, work and other people are always more important to you than your family. It’s shameful. Your poor sister thinks you hate her because you refuse to return any of her calls.” E

Serahlin blinks, “What calls? She hasn’t called me once after she fucked –

“Watch your language!”

“After she fucked my boyfriend then told me he loved her and wanted me to hand him over to her on a silver platter. After she said that I’m an ice bitch that doesn’t deserve love. What calls? I haven’t gotten any. I did call, however, to warn her off of Darris, not because I want him, mind you, but because he’s scum. She called me a bitch then too and that I just don’t understand him,” Serahlin says, her voice growing darker more impassioned with each word. But of course, her ire is inexcusable considering, her mother’s scowl just deepens and Elvara’s face reddens in embarrassment and anger.

“Don’t lie!” Elvara shouts and shoves her phone in Mamae’s face, “look, this is what she said to me, I saved them.”

What? Serahlin blinks as she watches her mother read through texts Serahlin is sure did not come from her. She is not one to hold full conversations over text, particularly with her sister. She prefers the phone, they should both know that.

Mamae lets out a breath, “Serahlin, this is unacceptable. How could you ever talk to your sister like this?”

“Like what? I’m afraid I don’t know what imaginary conversation Elvara has come up with, so I’m at a loss,” she snipes.

“This lying of yours has gotten out of control, da’harel.”

It’s a slap in the face. Da’harel. Little liar or betrayer. Her own child. And it breaks something deep in Serahlin.

She calmly rises from her chair, grabbing her purse.

“Where are you going, we’re not finished,” Mamae warns. Serahlin takes a deep breath and smiles bitterly at her.

“Actually, we are. I am not going to sit around getting insulted for the rest of the evening. You won’t believe what I say, so there is no point in staying around for the emotional flaying I am sure you both want to give me for some reason.” Her voice is flat, uncaring, almost

“Serahlin! Is this how you treat family? With disdain and disrespect?”

“Funny, because that’s exactly how you treat me,” she replies. A bitter laugh escapes her and she shakes her head.

“I always knew Elvara was your favorite, I learned to live with it. But this…this I cannot. Goodbye Mamae, Elvara,” and she turns on her heel to walk out of the restaurant.

“You leave now and you’ll be expelled from the clan!” Mamae shouts. Serahlin stops, bites her lip, then turns to look at her. She’s taller than her, Serahlin realizes.

“I am full-fledged member in my own right. That is not your decision to make, as much as you wish it was.” She turns her back again and walks.

Their eyes bear into her back as she leaves, weighing down each step.

But then she gets outside and the fresh air surrounds her. The weight disappears. She could head back inside. She could leave.

Her eyes close and her fingers rest upon the lines of her Vallaslin. It had hurt, getting it. Memae had supported her all the way through it. Mamae had practically demanded it. At the end of the day, it had been Serahlin’s choice though. Keeper Banalaris had spoken with her at length about it, she had bonded with many in the clan to the point where it wasn’t just her mother that connected her, but the clan itself.

It isn’t Mamae’s decision.

She gets in her car and drives fifteen minutes until she comes to a familiar building. Her throat is thick with emotion that threatens to spill to the surface. Normally, she’d recede and wait for it to pass, afraid of anyone seeing it. But now….

The ground is cold against her feet and it urges her to move quickly up the steps to knock on the door. Selene opens it a minute later, blinking in surprise.

“Serahlin? Is everything okay?”

Her face twists into confused sadness as she shakes her head, “I love my mother. But I don’t think she loves me.”

Selene’s eyes widen briefly before she pulls Serahlin inside and into a hug.

“I am so sorry.”

Tears slip out of her eyes and onto Selene’s sweater but Serahlin finds she can’t stop it. Selene guides them both to the couch and Serahlin is vaguely aware of her ordering a pizza. Good, food…actual, gluten-ridden food is good.

Selene runs her hand through Serahlin’s hair and lets her cry. There are no demands for an explanation or need for gossip. She’s just there, no questions, no pressure. Bottled up emotion spills over, and for the first time in a very long time, she lets it happen.

Her mother doesn’t love her, not like she should. And it’s hard to think that she ever did care like she should.

But sometimes the bitterest pills are the ones you need to take. She swallows the truth down and it spills out in tears. Mamae never loved her like a mother should love her daughter. Serahlin isn’t loved like Elvara. And Elvara hates her for some reason that she can’t discern.

All her perfectionism did was hurt herself. It didn’t prove to Mamae that was worthy of love, because at the end of the day – she was always worthy of it. But it hurts all the same, her heart straining under what she always knew but never admitted to herself.