эээ, ну ладно, не совсем съебал
В общем, чудесный, дивный, прекрасный человек shi-no-dairinin, в этой обители порока под назвванием дайри известная также как Эрго злая, пошлая и прокси, играет в драгонэйдж. И персонаж ее вместе с другим персонажем, суровым мужиком с огромным мечом (кодовая кличка - Няшка Стен) - это такое отп, что ощыыыы, на уровне ТемаШики просто.
Это была присказка. Сказка в том, что я из любви к этому отп написала что-то вроде... фика. Того. Про них. Про кунарероманс и путь Кун как единственно верную философию мира, что нам будут доносить кунари во втором драгонэйдже, кстати говоря. В общем, это смишно, кое-где глубинно и наполненно грамматическими ошибками, но коммандеру нравится, и я рада.
Джеричка и Стен. Не мои.
читать дальшеSlice 1.
It was rather spontaneous decision, as Jerry recalls later.
Being one of the VERY FEW Grey Wardens with the Blight at hand doesn’t imply considering plans for your future. You are too busy surviving, helping your comrades, fighting everyone beginning from darkspawn and up to stubborn noble bastards; trying to remain yourself after everything you have done… after all the choices you’ve made. Oh, and saving the world.
And then it’s just over. The Heroine of Ferelden saves the day; The Mighty Redeemer sacrifices himself, and whatever bards are going to sing. In reality you are getting dragged out of bed, not to mention terrible headache, and during the celebration ceremony you are praised by the Queen (whose husband looks wherever possible but not on you, and that doesn’t help) and you don’t know how to answer her question.
Return to an Alienage to help Shianni rebuild it? Why not? Alienage was home… long ago. Well, not so long ago, to come to think about it, but it seems like in different life.
Travel? Yes. Traveling is a good answer. Freedom for some time, freedom she had never ever had – nor wished for - in her life. At least others call it freedom. She wishes for peace.
And besides, that naive little girl Aljeres, i-wanna-know-all Jerry, the girl who spied on elders and absorbed every information she could get, wakes up within her screaming something like “Faraway countries! Leggo!”. It’s almost like meeting long time not seen younger sister, Jerry snorts, but that’s… not an unpleasant feeling.
And then she wanders around the Throne Room, trying to realize it – everything IS over, and everybody is leaving, leaving her, and Sten goes like fare you well, and she feels like oh hell, and five minutes later two heroes of Ferelden discuss upcoming journey.
Slice 2.
She saw him first. Sten was talking to a dark man, who looked like every image of a pirate you can see in children’s tale books. Tall, sinewy, long-haired and bearded, the only thing he lacked was bottle of some oghren-smelling brew.
Instead of it – calmness in eyes and “anaam ensaam Qun” as a good-bye.
‘Rivain he is, from the family of ashkaari, but he had made another step on the path of enlightment. He is our captain. It’s good to see you here, kadan’.
You can never tell with Sten, Jerry thought, but if I turn my head just a little bit, and look in his eyes, it seems he is actually smiling.
I am becoming really good at this, ain’t I?
‘Do you have anything with you? We should inform the captain’.
‘Only my backpack and daggers. Nothing special’.
‘True warrior’s attitude’ Sten nodded with approval. ‘We are to wait a bit, kadan, loading is carried on. I chartered the ship which doesn’t stay at Kant’aar, but still there are a lot of goods to be shipped for Par Vollen’.
‘It’s alrig…’ Jerry began. And was interrupted by another long-haired bronze-skinned man.
‘I’m sorry, ser’ he said respectfully. ‘Is this all actually yours? Can you please sign here?’
‘Yes. And… be careful with it’.
She turned around and gazed in disbelief as two men towed a little wagon filled with various sacks, boxes and even with bottles made of multi-colored glass.
‘Ehr’ she said. It was unresistable.
‘What?’ Sten was talking with voice suspiciously similar to his ‘i-wasn’t-picking-flowers’ one. ‘I was sent to investigate, I can’t return with nothing! These are the results of my research’.
It took Jerry five seconds to come up with one rather amusing idea. She grabbed one of the bottles and read the scripture. It read ‘best ginger cookies from Uncle Bevi!’.
‘There are some things’ Sten mentioned, looking somewhere around the sun. ‘That even my people have to acknowledge’.
Jerry was pretty much wondering what place will cookies achieve in the way of the Qun, but she preferred silence.
Slice 3
‘You never call me by my given name’.
‘That’s indeed true’.
‘Why?’.
That was a reasonable question. She had never liked her full name, and she was also kind of person to despise all unnecessary officialism. Warden worked fine, but she treasured the possibility to be called Jerry. Name was…erh… just name , when it was screamed all over the alienage, usually along with ‘…you brink come over here!’; name became important, when only a few people around the world used it.
Sten never did.
It wasn’t a matter before – there was no time, and it was just one of… sten thing to do, there were a lot of them. But as Jerry found out soon after beginning her first voyagee, there wasn’t much to do onboard besides talking. The whole crew accepted Qun too long time ago to have any wastable minute in their timetable, so it was pretty much Jerry and Sten. And they talked.
Sten was conversable person. He really was. Not talkative, but conversable beyond anyone’s imagination. He would usually ask a few questions about Ferelden or fereldian, and that was enough for Jerry – not a very loquacious person, mind you – to wind up. For the first few days onboard she talked more than for three previous months’ (except for bloody days before bloody Lansmeet with all that running around bloody nobles). Sten listened with attention. Every time. It seemed that he thought – if it’s generic necessity to spend ten days doing nothing, let’s make use out of this time.
Or probably he was just interested.
And about the best thing about these conversations was that you could always say – or feel – enough, and the silence wasn’t less comfortable.
Oh, and they also got up very early every morning to have a bit of on-deck-practice, but let’s get back to the subject…
It took Sten a few seconds to consider a question.
‘I call you the Warden, because that’s what you are; I call you kadan because of who you are; everything else is… unnecessary’.
‘Qunari don’t use names. Yes, I remember. And Zevran once mentioned that’ she sighed. ‘I can’t say I agree with that. I am not very fond of my name…’
‘See? You already get unnecessary’ he emphasized it ‘negative feeling’
‘but I would rather have it than nothing at all. What would I be? Just a warden? And you? You’re Sten. I think about you as that. I can’t imagine you just being one of five hundred stens. The name should be something… recognizable’.
Sten silently rose up from his chair and stood by her side. His gaze fell upon northern horizon.
‘Par Vollen is near, kadan. Think about it, and you will understand, now or then. You are capable of’.
Slice 4
She was standing alone mindlessly watching waves. It was… calming. Reassuring. Ocean didn’t give a damn about darkspawn, politics of Orzammar or Loghain Mac Tir. It lived its life, so tranquil and so mighty at the same time.
Jerry could say she liked the sea.
And then somebody touched her shoulder. Well, nearly touched. She evaded the contact reflexively.
She may have known it’s safe, but, as it turned out, her body wasn’t so sure.
‘Ehr. We are sorry, Warden, ser. Ehr. Won’t you mind talking to us?’.
It was undoubtedly an interesting sight. The captain of the ship and five crewmen were standing in front of her, looking somewhere behind her left ear. Their faces expressed shame, fear, humiliation and around five thousand similar feelings. In short, they looked like mabari hounds after unauthorized visit to kitchen.
‘You see. Ehm. We wouldn’t dare to bother you with our problems, it’s, ehr, our duty to bring you to ParVollen, but the situation is, hm, dire’.
‘Yes?’ she checked her daggers. The say that you are your habits, and she half-expected to hear something like ‘we are getting overwhelmed by darkspawn who were hiding in the hold, and the couple of dragons is attacking from above, would you mind saving us please?’.
Reality was much more fucked up. Well, just as usual.
‘You see…’ the captain murmured. ‘Our cook fell ill… and his apprentice too… ehr doc says they will be fine in two days, but, hmm, no one here understands a sod in cooking… it’s very humiliating… ehm, but we thought… since you are a woman…’
Jerry sat on the deck and laughed as hard as she never did. Then she proceeded to cook-room, just in time to stop the captain from committing suicide.
The story continued at evening meal.
‘Do you like it?’
‘It’s… interesting. AND tasty’ Sten announced ‘never tried anything like this’.
‘Really? It’s just fish fried with eggs. We ate it a lot at SummerFeast back at alienage. Hated cooking it back then, but really enjoyed now. Odd, isn’t it’.
They were silent for a moment.
‘It is very encouraging to see that you exceed in cooking, too. But why did you do it?’
Telling him wasn’t the best idea ever. Jerry really wouldn’t. But captain, who was eating with them, suddenly decided it was time to recant his sins.
Sten’s reaction was… picturesque. Not a single muscle on his face moved, but fire in his eyes, one that had always been there, appeared to be taking over the best of him.
It’s time to interfere, Jerry decided.
‘It was really fine’ she said joyously ‘It’s good to try some cooking after the year of fighting. I am a woman, after all, and I was considered a good cook! Hey, and doesn’t the way of the Qun imply that everyone shall help the whole when the need comes?’
‘It does’ Sten said gloomily. ‘But first of all, the way of the Qun demands perfection in doing your work. Such failures are… humiliating. For all of us Qunari’.
Captain murmured something. Sten suddenly smiled.
‘But you are an excellent cook. Do you know how to bake cookies?’
Slice 5
She had found Sten in the cabin polishing his sword. She nodded silently and sat down beside him. Minute or two passed.
‘Why won’t you teach me your language?’
His hands stopped moving.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course. I thought about it a lot. You are not going to stick around me the whole time I am there, yes? All I can say are about ten phrases’ she sighed ‘it’s not only going to be practical problem; it’s that I want to know. Do you understand?’.
‘Yes. Yes, I do’ Sten paused ‘but I am no teacher, kadan’.
‘Well, I have no choice. I am sure you can do just fine’.
She was very persuasive person. Had always been. And very soon the captain while passing by the door of the cabin heard the following:
‘it’s eesh, kadan. Not aaash’.
He didn’t ask.
Slice 6
‘It’s ‘sttrugle’’
‘Isn’t ‘shok’ struggle?’
‘No. That’s “struggle against”. No, not that. It’s… repressing against something. With pain. With fear. Do you understand?’.
‘I do’ she smiled and stared at him attentively ‘repeat, please’.
‘You seem tired, kadan’ he said suddenly. She was amazed.
‘So what? Do you suggest a break?’.
‘Yes, if you want. You’ve already learned a lot. You are working hard’.
‘It’s not only your people who can demand perfection, Sten. Repeat, please’.
‘Tamassrans will be encouraged to see such enthusiasm’.
‘What do you mean?’.
He blinked.
‘Everyone who comes to our land willing to understand the Qun is given the chance. Especially you. My people are not fond of being saved without doing anything, but they will respect you, no doubt’.
‘Well you can’t say qunari did nothing. They had a perfect representative’.
‘Thank you.
I suppose you will be given… the room. As long as you are doing some amount of work and not being… suspicious, I think you will be free to live amongst us and visit our… I don’t know, how to translate…’
‘Services?’
‘No’ he pursed his lips ‘we don’t have such a thing. I suppose you would call it… lectures. Lectures and public meditations’.
‘Sounds good enough. I was really wondering what my life at your land will be like’.
‘You should have asked’.
‘Yes’.
‘I do really look forward to accompanying you. I wish I witness you finding enlightment’.
They were silent for a moment.
‘Anyways, let’s return to the task at hand’.
‘One moment, kadan. We are short on power-restoring supplies’.
‘That’s sad. Wait, didn’t we open a box just an hour ago?’.
‘Well, you consume a lot, kadan. Not that I blame you – lessons are hard’.
Slice 7
‘Holy… holy… ‘she tried to find the world, which wouldn’t be too bad, but will express her feelings. ‘Holy archdemon!’
Sten snorted.
‘I suppose your reaction should make me proud. Yes, this is how OUR ports look like’.
The port DID look impressive. Giant, half-covered with fume, but still very clean; lots of ships, beautiful pyramided building, fish and burnt odor… yes, very impressive indeed. That, however, was not the point.
‘These are qunari, right? I mean, your kind’ her voice had already calmed down.
‘Of course’.
‘I am not sure if you have ever noticed, but they are horned’.
‘Really? You’ve opened my eyes, kadan’.
‘Sten’.
‘What’s so surprising? Elves have that famous pointy ears, dwarves are short, and my kind has horns. We are proud of it; the tal’vashoth remove them to show out their abandonment.
He sighed, meeting Jerry’s expecting gaze.
‘Sometimes qunari are born without horns. Wasn’t it obvious?’.
‘Don’t you think you should have told me?’.
‘What for?’.
They left the ship.
The most interesting thing about the port of the Quanandar was how (relatively) quiet it was. Jerry walked besides Sten, trying to see-notice-remember everything. Sometimes she would ask and Sten would answer.
The big pyramid was the registry. The long single-floor white buildings on the right – some sort of tavern, in qunari fashion. The giant ship made of sparkling metal – the future steamer (what the hell?) ‘Will-2’.
The objects of her eager interest, however, were qunari themselves. It was easy to differentiate them: some were very tall, nearly as tall as Sten, all muscles, dressed in dirty greyish clothes similar to that of rivain crew; some were skinnier – if you can apply that word to qunari - and wore black robes – Sten explained they were the clerks, doing all paperwork in the port; there were also few qunari women, especially near the “taverns”, and they were nothing she expected them to be, strangely attractive with their dignity so unusual for ‘merchants and managers’.
The feature uniting all the qunari was how busy they looked. It didn’t mean, however, that they ‘ran around like bugs’ (Zevran’s words, which left Sten furious for about an hour): sometimes they would stop and exchange a few words, or shoot an interested glance upon Jerry and Sten (unhorned warrior dragging enormous package and tiny armed and armored woman – that WAS a sight); she also noticed two (supposedly) elder male qunari sitting in front of a big tree discussing something, though there were a few papers covering their table, and no doubts the Qun would somehow benefit at the end.
She had expected going to “registry” and dealing with all that bureaucracy stuff, but Sten explained that ‘clerks’ had already visited the ship, took his and the captain’s report and did everything required. He didn’t explain what that ‘everything’ was. He probably didn’t even now. Why should he?
‘What will we do then?’ she asked in qunari language, earning an approving nod from Sten, another glance from nearby qunari sailor and feeling of the deep self-satisfaction.
‘I shall talk to the sten of the port, he will send the arishok a note. Then we will leave for the city. I will guide you to tamassrans and go to the arishok’s place. You will be ordered as you should and sent to your place’.
‘So I am on my own?’.
‘No, of course not’ he seemed shocked ‘I told you you will be ordered’.
And then – brief smile.
‘I shall see you as soon as I can, kadan’.
‘I am looking forward to it. To everything’.
Slice 8.
The tamassran was very tall. Very. Taller than Sten, for sure. Twice taller than Jerry.
Thank Maker, Qun, or whoever, that she was sitting in the armchair. Well, thank her, probably.
And she was speaking excellent fereldian.
‘Why are you here?’ that was her first question. And Jerry suspected it was the most important.
‘To understand the way of Qun’.
Tamassran’s dark eyes narrowed.
‘Tell more’ she ordered. It’s astonishing how easily one can move from commanding to being commanded, Jerry thought.
‘I am the Warden’ she said. Wonderful beginning, do they even know what it is? ‘I’ve encountered the qunari, Sten.. the sten, the one sent to Fereldan during the Blight…’
‘The sten’s and yours exploits will be discovered in an appropriate way’
‘eh yes. So he is my friend; and I wish to learn the ways of qunari and offer myself as the payment for explanation’
‘There is no ‘payment’ for being enlightened. It’s simply that you wish to serve and find your way’
‘Yes. I do’.
Well, it was pretty lame, but it worked out.
‘So you are the warrior. Rogue-type, right?’
‘Yes. But I can also cook’.
Tamassran smiled.
‘No need to waste your talents. I am no fighter, but I can see you are formidable. You’d probably turned your… size to your advantage, and that means you can understand’
‘Understand what?’
The question was ignored.
‘What do you think of the sten you know? Are you a better fighter than he is?
‘I suppose we are on par’
Tamassran’s smile widened, and somehow it didn’t feel like a good sign.
‘You must tell the truth when you are asked. Learn that, if you wish to accept the Qun. Now leave. The shopkeeper runs an apothecary near the small waterfall. She had written request for a warrior to accompany her daughter in her trips to the jungle, where she collects her herbs. There’re a lot of dangerous animals, and her previous guard was grievously harmed. You will substitute him’.
‘I will do my best’.
After leaving the tamassran’s quarters Jerry had realized that she hadn’t got a single idea where ‘the small waterfall’ was. So she had to enter a shop and after a brief conversation which included ridiculous hand-waving as attempt to represent the waterfall she had received a small piece of paper (actually, it was a backside of… whatever document) with a map on it.
And at that moment nobody could tell her concentrated firm face from that of qunari around her.
Well, apart from the color of the skin and the couple of tattoos, but that didn’t really matter.
Slice 9
The shopkeeper wasn’t really happy to see her. She had no problem with someone finding enlightment, but it was obvious she had been expecting somebody more… impressive. Still, it was the decision of tamassran, and hence – undiscussable matter.
Without much thinking Jerry offered her help with the dinner to get on the shopkeeper’s good side. She should have known better. Her help was refused with a bewildered stare and simple explanation “you are the warrior”.
The shopkeeper’s daughter, the herbalist (there was no blood relations between them, but everyone who thought that qunari are monstrous feelingless giants should have seen the soft look they gave each other upon meeting), was totally different. Young and quick, with a calm smile and friendly attitude, she greeted Jerry happily and ate nearly twice as much as her guardian and the shopkeeper together.
And then they were visited.
‘May the inhabitants of this house always walk the right path. It’s great to see you are already working for the Qun, kadan’
The shopkeeper seemed a bit surprised upon the visit. However, it didn’t sway her ways.
‘May you, too. I am sorry’ she added ‘I would greet you properly and ask you to dinner, but that’s meditation time in this home’.
Jerry remembered Sten once explaining it to her. Every qunari had half an hour in their timetables cut out, the one when it was the least likely to harm their work. They meditated, thought about the Qun, their paths, and how they should serve, and so on, and basically relaxed. Warriors and suchlike professions could skip, move or abandon meditation, if it was necessary, but that wasn’t welcomed.
So the sten and the warden moved to the little backyard. They watched “the waterfall” for some time.
‘I spoke to the arishok, kadan, about you and everything. He was glad to know that human hero wishes to accept the Qun’.
It was becoming a little annoying. Probably I will end up qunned or probably not, I didn’t tell them I am going to do anything, so will they please stop being so sure?
‘There will be a lot of meetings held these days, a lot of decisions made. My reports will be discussed and I have to be present; BenHassrath wish to talk to me. I will visit you next week, kadan, because I was allowed to accompany you to the lecture. It’s… outstanding.
You shall also expect that arishoks will want to speak to you. We wish to learn about the Blight and the Grey Wardens, even though there is no urgent need. To prevent it’.
‘Oh. Great. I mean…’.
‘I know, kadan. You are tired, and that isn’t surprising. Do you have a work tomorrow?’.
‘Yes. We leave in the morning’.
‘Then I suggest you go to rest in half an hour. Do you mind if I join you?’
He speaks about meditation, Jerry realized. Am I to forcedly meditate?
And then it was like – why not? To relax, to feel clear in mind, to think about what her life will be like… she thought about all that surviving-fighting-dying-fighting-whatshallido-fighting months and smiled.
Yes, it was over. Or let’s at least think so until the nightmares come.
‘Of course not’ and then she failed epically.
Sten watched in awe as she tried to achieve the perfect Lotus pose. Then he asked:
‘Why are you doing that, kadan?’
“Well’ Jerry felt lame ‘Isn’t that required?’.
‘You can do it in whatever pose you find suitable. It looks… a bit strange, but if that’s what you want’ he shrugged.
Then he slumped on the ground and moved very carefully, until they were sitting back to back so she could lean on him to finally achieve the damned Lotus.
Jerry closed her eyes.
Slice 10.
The arishok summoned her in a few days.
Her life that far was… calm. Fine.
She accompanied the herbalist in her trips, and after fighting off several beasts without being scratched she earned respect even from the shopkeeper. The woman’d heard (anyone’s guess where) that Jerry is ‘the Warden’, but kept calling her the berashok - ‘the guardian’. Jerry didn’t protest. First, it would have been useless; second, she liked it. It suited everything she has done in her life.
The herbalist was kind enough to show her a book“shop”. After explaining the situation she got some textbooks and spent her evenings dealing with qunari language. She also went out one night and even enjoyed a fine song sung by female bard, but goalless wandering she had always liked seemed disgustingly… out of place here.
Sten’d explained her before leaving for his quarters, that the tamassrans will talk to her after she had heard her first lection. That was understandable. What she didn’t understand, however, was why qunari venerated some kind of awful, awful, AWFUL juice they drank all the time – you could even find a kiosk with unlimited free supply of the bloody brew on every street. Hopefully it wasn’t a part of understanding the Qun, otherwise she could just leave – no way she ever accepted THIS.
One day she was in the backroom of the apothecary polishing her daggers when the young warrior came. He treated her with respect, interest and suspicion, and so did the arishok.
The arishok had the biggest horns in ParVollen. It wasn’t her guess – she heard the soldiers joking about it. And he had a lot of question, which, thankfully, didn’t include anything about the way of the Qun.
She told him about the Blight. She told him about the darkspawn and the archdemon. She told him about Fereldan army and politics, because she didn’t really care, about dwarves, and, with little evasion, about the Dalish.
She had realized that he is using her as a tool to extract information, and that he is probably going to invade Thedas, but there was nothing wrong with letting him know everything she told him – it was just basic information, he was too smart to ask anything else, and she actually enjoyed giving geography lesson to big armored man who could order around an army capable of overwhelming any other.
Then the problem arose.
‘So you are the grey warden. The sten told me about your order as much as he could, but he could a little’.
Jerry sighed. And smiled, remembering.
‘We exist only to fight darkspawn. Not to meddle in politics, earn gold or rearrange eternal justice. We don’t care if you are a merchant prince or gaddling beggar, if you are of noble birth or from barbarian tribe, as long as you fight for us. That’s what the man who recruited me told me, and this is pretty much it’.
The arishok pursed his lips.
‘I don’t get it. Everyone can join you?’.
‘Yes. Qunari, too, Your women, too’ she thought about Duncan, again, and cited ‘We are the Grey Wardens. In war, we strive for victory. In peace, we keep vigilance. In death, we make sacrifice. Join us’.
Arishok seemed surprised.
‘Are you actually suggesting it?’.
I wonder how he will react if I tell him I have a right to conscript him here and now.
‘but what if the recruit is… not strong enough? Do you really accept everyone? That’s highly impractical’.
‘Well, it’s not like we have lots of enthusiastic recruits storming our doors. And unfit ones don’t make it through’.
‘Through what?’
‘There is a lot I can’t tell you, the arishok. I believe qunari know of oaths’.
For a brief moment she remembered ‘we are very persuasive people’ line, and it wasn’t a very pleasant feeling. Then the arishok smiled back. Almost unnoticeably, but she had some good training with the sten.
‘Qunari know of oaths and respect them. Now qunari know of Grey Wardens and respect them, too. Am I to understand, that you are the only living fereldian Grey Warden?’.
‘Yes’.
‘Good luck to you, The Grey Warden. May you find you place here. We will meet again’.
Well, Duncan, she thought. Did I make a fine representative for us?
You will tell me the day I join you.
Slice 11
‘What are you doing, the berashok?’
She smiled with embarrassment.
‘Painting. Well, trying’.
The herbalist carefully took the paper out of her hands and inspected it.
‘That’s… a waterfall?’ she asked.
‘Yes’.
‘It’s awful’.
‘Well thank you!’ yes, it was her weak point from a very young age. All her friends were good with pencil and paints, while she…
‘That’s because you are not a painter. You are the warrior. That’s what you are good at’ the herbalist said, a bit frustrated with having to explain such an obvious thing.
It was obvious. It was simple. It was…
Jerry leaves her pencils and never ever touches them again.
Slice 12
There was a lot Jerry could say about the domes qunari services – or lectures, as they preferred to call it – were held at. But, to save the time, she could simply use two words: ‘stunningly beautiful’. And, by the way, the services weren’t obligatory even more surprising.
Well, at least regular ones, which were held once in ten days and were generally the tamassrans reading the extractions from the Qun for those, who were new to the righteous way, or who couldn’t read it by themselves, or who were asked by BenHassrath to visit. Better go while they ask, the shopkeeper said. It was rare for faithful qunari to feel the urge to abandon their work and listen to the words which they already knew better than anything in the world. Of course, such rules couldn’t apply to special services held by ariquns themselves, and any religious celebrations.
‘Impractical’ Sten explained ‘And attracts attention. If you truly wish to serve the Qun, no need to spend the time in the dome; get back to your work and be useful’.
Sten, by the way, was ordered to stay in Quanandar for a time, and visit a few regular lectures. Got off lightly – the BenHassrath, as he said, had every right to doubt his faith in the Qun now.
Jerry just couldn’t get it. The man saved the world, and you are going around being harsh with him just because he was a bit late?
But still, it was good to know he wasn’t leaving just yet. After all, she came here because she didn’t want to part with him.
Anyways, it was time to hear the Qun.
The silence which fell upon the appearance of the tamassran was already impressive on its own. Jerry felt that childish feeling of something grandiose about to happen. Female qunari sitting beside her had to hide her smile as she crossed her hands and stared at the pulpit with attention of a schoolgirl.
And then the tamassran spoke.
It was the words of the Qun, words known for centuries, but she didn’t read or cited them. She talked, and you had to be blind and deafened not to understand they came from her heart, every single one, forged out in pain, grinded with wisdom.
She spoke of struggle, and pain of being lost, and the tragedy of being useless. She spoke of joy, and destiny, and uniting. Of admitting, and fighting, and illusions, and freedom.
Her eyes glowed as she continued. Powerful and obviously a bit mad in her faith, her voice raising and raising as she went from calm confidence to fanatic rage so unusual for qunari who were famous for their coolness.
Impression was a little spoiled, because Jerry couldn’t understand half of the words, but she couldn’t resist the admiration and, suddenly, she felt… belonging.
Until the silence fell again.
‘She is famous’ she heard the sten talking ‘Even the ariqun respect her. Outstandingly talented’.
Oh yes, totally true.
He touched her shoulder.
‘She would wish to talk to you, kadan. Go’.
Slice 13
The tamassran had two questions. Well, one of them was pretty much rhetorical.
‘Do you understand how much chances you are given?’ she said harshly. ‘I think – and not only I – that too much attention was given to your personality. Normally you should have made your choice long ago or… other means had to be used to enlighten you’.
Okay, Jerry thought, I am fed up.
‘The decision had been made’, she answered respectfully ‘until it’s changed, I shall obey to it. You are the one I expect to teach me’.
The tamassran snorted. Then she rose from her chair and reached for the window.
‘Do you know why qunari never thank each other? In everyday life, at least’.
Jerry shrugged.
‘The same reason why your heart never thanks your veins for the blood it receives. Sit down, bas, listen to me. Listen to the words of the Qun’.
Slice 14.
It was OUT OF NOWHERE, really.
She was approaching the dome’s door, and suddenly small unhorned woman grabbed her hand. Stern face, narrow features and white eyes.
She is blind, she has to be, Jerry thought, following the woman to the closest bench. How the hell can she move so confidently?
As it turned out, she was blind. And she was the ariqun.
She stuck to the local tradition of starting the conversation with strange question.
‘Have you ever wondered why people think 21 is a lucky number?’
‘What, qunari, too?’
‘Yes, yes. Because 7 is a lucky number, and 3 is a blessed one. So, what do your Chanters say about that?’.
‘I am not sure, but I suppose they think it’s wrong’.
‘They call believing in lucky numbers blasphemous and disapprove of it, and so does the way of the Qun; but the Chantry says ‘forget the numbers, everything is supposed to be as the Maker wants’ (not to mention this doesn’t make sense, because, according to the andrastians, he doesn’t care about you); we say ‘you can believe in whatever you want, but it isn’t going to help; nothing determined will change, anything else you can change yourself’ And what do you think?’.
Jerry bit her lips.
‘Never thought 21 is something special. Having 21 arrows in your quiver won’t help you with 22d enemy’.
‘That’s indeed true. You are a warrior, I recall? You do understand your current place is temporary? It amuses me to suspect the woman can enter the army, but you, I suppose, are happy to know you can be accepted as you are’.
‘I do… but, isn’t the point to accept whatever I am made to do?’.
The ariqun snorted.
‘You are trying to understand, but you are in the very beginning of the way. Of course formally you are true, but the whole thing about the Qun is how we make the right choice. It’s not ‘we are short on bakers and we have bunch of guys not fearsome enough to enter soldiers’ rank’. It’s careful decision tamassran make fully realixing their responsility, decision based on years and years of tests. That’s why everyone is happy within the Qun’.
Her eyes flush up.
Jerry wanted to ask about the tal’vashoth, but suddenly decided against it. The tal’vashoth were hated bastards; it’s not like the ariqun could tell her anything new.
Slice 15
‘You have lived in Quanandar for nearly twenty days’ the sten said as they left the dome. ‘What do you think of it?’
‘About the city itself, you mean?’
‘Yes’.
‘It’s… beautiful. To say the least. I have seen a lot – just as you did – but nothing can equal to this. Dalish ruins were probably comparable, long ago, but I didn’t see that...’.
He snorted.
‘Our Quanandar will never encounter such a fate. We built it well and we protect it better’.
‘I didn’t say anything about Quanandar being destroyed, did I?’.
They strolled side by side across the grass. Something bothered the sten she knew, something made him uncertain.
‘I’ve got something for you’ he said suddenly. ‘I just thought I was… greedy? You are probably missing them a lot’.
‘Oh, chocs? Wow, thank you’.
‘I think they are the tastiest’ the sten said, and waved his hand ‘We can equip them with peach juice, if you wish’.
‘NO. I mean, thank you, but NO’.
He smiled. For real. She nearly wondered if he had lost his sword for the second time and now remembered where it is.
‘You dislike this thing, too?’
‘Good grief!’ she was ready to hug him ‘I knew there would be SOMEONE…!’.
His smile widened. Someone, please, report to the arishok – the sten has gone mad.
‘Don’t scream that loud, kadan. People will think there is a fire somewhere’.
‘Ugh. Sorry’.
They kept walking in silence for some time. The rainfall season was about to start, and the sky was covered in dark-grey clouds. Jerry felt water scattering across her cheeks – they were passing the big waterfall.
‘Kadan?’
‘Yes?’
‘You are the warrior I respect the most. Tell me, what do you think - is a fear a shame for a soldier?’.
She considered the question.
‘There are many things to fear, the sten. And if the soldier doesn’t acknowledge some of them, he is but a fool. The main thing is to have your fear serve you, not to rule over you’ I have just cited Chant of Light?! Cute. ‘Why do you ask? Of all people you are the last I can imagine worrying about fears’.
Well, Jerry thought as her companion leant upon the Great Asalit Tree, I didn’t think this one through. Heh, come to think about it, that’s exactly what Loghain said about his alliance with Howe…
‘I feared, kadan’ the sten said after a pause ‘I feared meeting you at the field, having to lift my sword against you. But now I do not, because I believe one day we shall fight for the Qun together, and that thought alone can guide me. The arishok may send me wherever he wants – I will win every battle, because I refuse to die until I reach the battlefield by your side’.
There was a moment she couldn’t breathe and couldn’t say anything, and, out of need to express her feeling more than anything else, she touched his palm.
His hand was warm, his skin – rough, and she felt the mark Asala’s hilt left on it over the years. This…experience seemed to finally release her tongue.
‘I would very much appreciate if you don’t die the first time we reach the battlefield together, o-okay?’.
She had never thought sten’s touch could be so… gentle. Smooth. Caring.
For a moment, their fingertips connected.
‘I will try my best, kadan. I won’t even lose my sword, I swear’.
What will happen if I tell him everything I think… I feel now? she thought. And then realized she needn’t to.
The sten looked on the sky.
‘Sunset is near, kadan. There is work to be done, for you and me’.
‘Let’s go, then’ she grabbed the jar ‘cookie for good-bye?’.
Slice 16
They were coming back from one long trip. The herbalist, scratched and pissed off after falling into thorny bushes, stroke her steps with an astonishing speed. The berashok, who somehow ended up carrying all the herbs they have collected, sweating and swearing under her breath, ran after qunari.
They passed big building painted in dark-green and, suddenly, pink, just in time to see a few VERY excited qunari teens running in.
The herbalist stopped, smiled and nodded to attract her guardian’s attention.
‘This is the smithy of the First Weaponsmith. Very good place, very happy’.
‘First Weaponsmith?’.
‘Yes. He forges and repairs the weapons for our future soldiers, that’s why he is called the Forger of the Souls. For centuries our boys have come here to receive them and hence mark they are not an imekari anymore’.
Jerry eyed the smithy with great interest. What a place, really…
Then she imagined young sten drawing Asala for the first time and couldn’t resist giggling. Thankfully, the herbalist had already started moving.
A few hours later the shopkeeper entered the berashok’s room and… and, well, had to wait for about ten minutes, because she was meditating.
‘I am leaving for the hospital’ she explained ‘I know you are not very strong… physically, but there’s an awful lot of poultices I have to take with me and my daughter is busy. Won’t you help?’.
‘Of course!’
The hospital of ParVollen consisted of a few relatively small buildings. Qunari were one of the first to find out that keeping contagious patients, pregnant women and contused soldiers together wasn’t a really good idea. The shopkeeper headed right to the pharmaceutic and returned very soon.
‘Sad news, very sad’ she sighed ‘there was an explosion at one of our factories. The whole wing flew away, lots of workers injured, many lost their arms. It means no powder for the following week…’
‘And what about the workers?’
‘The workers? Oh, some of them will probably return to work, or teach the children, I don’t know. But the rest… well, tamassrans will see the matter. Poor things! It makes me shiver to even think about being separated from my shop. Thankfully, it isn’t going to happen. That’s why I always say that our, women’s, position in the Qun is safer… Well, it sort of doesn’t apply to you, the berashok’.
She didn’t have to close her eyes to imagine them – lost, bleeding and calling for death, unfortunate ones, as qunari named them, those who couldn’t fulfill their function anymore. It made her shiver, too. The dead trap – that’s what the way of the Qun could sometimes be.
They will overcome it, they MUST!
The fury of this thought had surprised even the berashok herself. But…
They are Qunari! The people of the Qun! They are strong and determined! They will recover, they will find the way to serve, otherwise what was the point of… everything?
When they came back, she said:
‘I had a lot today. I shall retreat to my place’.
‘Really?’ the shopkeeper sounded surprised ‘and I have made fish in orange mousse’.
It was a seducing thought, but Jerry settled for another meditation instead.
Slice 17
There were quite a lot of humans at ParVollen – the Fex, the native inhabitants, who lived in their separated districts; Seheron and Rivain, mostly sailors, scientists and traders; and even a few fereldian. And once she spotted someone very elf-like running down the street. Jerry would like to go after him and ask a few questions, but then the berashok remembered it’s only half an hour before the arranged leaving time and her daggers are still at the smithy. She rushed her way.
She knew, of course, that there were others, those who resisted enlightenment, disobeyed the orders and offended the Qun. Most of the working camps were situated in Thedas or Seheron, but there was also one well-known at ParVollen’s mines.
She pitied them.
Slice 18
Meanwhile, the BennHasrath had finally left the sten alone. Some decisions were made in his behalf and he was ordered to stay in Quanandar and lead the arishok’s guard, which was a great honor for a warrior. It did, however, also mean that the sten wasn’t to visit Seheron in months to come. He didn’t seem very upset, though. They made a promise to go there once, together.
That implied he didn’t have to visit ‘the lectures’. So she went alone. Not that it was a big deal – why should it be?
The famous tamassran left for her home, the Kont’Aar. Her successor was… different, but good as anyone with her job. The main thing Jerry missed, however, was that feeling of belonging she experienced the first time around. Sometimes it would come, but it was never that strong. And never stayed.
And then they were out in the woods with the herbalist and the berashok’s keen eye had noticed the falling branch. She was quick enough to realize that there was no way the herbalist could evade it on her own and that the chances of her 100 pounds striking 300 pounds of her companion down in a jump are… low. So the berashok did the only thing she could think of – she threw her dagger with as much brute force as she could. It stroke the branch and both landed a couple of meters away from the branch’s initial landing spot – the herbalist’s head.
She seemed frightened for a moment, but then pulled herself together and said ‘thank you’.
‘You are welcome’ the berashok said automatically, but deep inside, she felt different. What for, she thought, for doing my job, for protecting my sister?! And then, suddenly as hell, the berashok realized, that the feeling of belonging she was looking for was within her all that time – time she spent working, and running around the city, and eating the dinner at the apothecary, and watching the waterfall with the sten she smiled thinking about.
The Quanandar, she thought, I may one day call ‘home’.
Slice 19
Once she was in a port and witnessed the following: two male BennHassrath in their ridiculous red armor were ‘escorting’ black-haired elf woman in the Tevinter dress. Their eyes met, and woman waved her hand desperately.
She never thought about it as a weakness – she made the right choice, and anybody who could dare to try to prove her otherwise would get… a lot. Probably up to dagger in the shoulder.
Using the moment when the BennHassrath were distracted by an accident (they wasn’t really very careful; the appearance of anyone wishing to stop BennHassrath from fulfilling their duty IN THE MIDDLE OF QUANANDAR PORT was highly unlikely) Jerry approached the woman using her not-quite-forgotten rogue-skills.
‘Do you speak fereldian?’
Elf’s eyes widened.
‘Please, don’t scream!’.
‘I do! I do!!’ the woman grabbed the guardian’s shoulder ‘Please, help me!! I’ve come here as trader, sneaked here to see my son. I… I left him at the village and those beasts took him by force during their attack! He is but a boy of two!! Or, what should I do?! They discovered me… oh, my poor Jike… please, please, help me!!’
And she started crying. One of the BennHasrath returned (it was a close touch; Jerry managed to escape in shadows, though) and said something harshly.
For a second, the guardian really felt for a poor woman. She reached for her hand once again.
‘There is only one thing you can do’ she whispered ‘I can assure you that your son will be happy, and there is one paath for you to walk towards him – accept the way of the Qun’.
Slice 20
I tend to be here a lot, she thought, entering the port for the second time in two days. This time it was a matter of finding a fine armorsmith because, truth be told, her poor felon’s coat didn’t take the climate well. She crossed the road leading from the docks and…
Something skinny, dirty and very noisy rushed to her from the docks. It took a second for the creature to leave the guards – who seemed to know it well – behind and to knock Jerry down in one huge jump. And she didn’t resist. She couldn’t.
For the second time in the Quanandar she experienced the feeling too deep to be expressed.
‘Are you alright?’ one of the guards asked, helping her to stand up, while the other wiped a net. ‘What the hell is this? We were trying to catch this bloody thing for a month now and then it just goes out all of sudden!’
‘It shall pay’ the second one declared, but Jerry stopped him by simply taking the net out of his hands. Then she turned around and groaned:
‘You bad, bad, BAD DOG!!!’
The Dog barked happily, totally agreeing. With anything.
‘I am SO MAD at you!’ Jerry shouted, trying to fight the happiest smile ever which seemed to conquer her face. She thought a bit and added ‘and the sten is going to be VERY MAD at you, too!!’
The Dog barked remorsedly.
‘How the hell did you get here? I didn’t leave you at home for nothing! You had half of your bones broken!! No way you could sneak here on the ship!!’.
The guard decided to interfere and was shut up by the wave of the hand.
‘Oh my, puppy, you can really use some help… a few crunches, probably, and proper food… yes, that will save the situation… and then, I suppose… what do you think of joining the qunari army? The tamassrans are bound to understand the benefits of having mabari hound by your side’.
The Dog’s stare was easy to interprete – he didn’t give a damn about qunari army or tamassrans; but he totally wasn’t going to let his master leave him anymore.
The berashok smiled and scratched his ears.
One day, I may call this place home…
‘Don’t worry, boy, I will join you as soon as I can’.
Slice 22
It took her about five minutes.
She went to the ariqun and expressed a wish to serve the Qun. She had expected some kind of… a-la Joining speech, but the ariqun simply said ‘the qun accepts everyone, who accepts the qun’, cited a few phrases and redirected her to the tamassrans. The tamassrans (their face expressions read ‘finally’) told her to come tomorrow to pass a few tests on order to determine her rank within qunari army. The evening she was free to spend with her first family, or packing her belongings, or meditating, or whatever.
So she left the tamassrans and met the sten. He told her some news, she told him about the tests, he expressed confidence in her skills.
They shared nearly identical half-noticeable smiles.
They never ever looked back.
эээ, ну ладно, не совсем съебал
В общем, чудесный, дивный, прекрасный человек shi-no-dairinin, в этой обители порока под назвванием дайри известная также как Эрго злая, пошлая и прокси, играет в драгонэйдж. И персонаж ее вместе с другим персонажем, суровым мужиком с огромным мечом (кодовая кличка - Няшка Стен) - это такое отп, что ощыыыы, на уровне ТемаШики просто.
Это была присказка. Сказка в том, что я из любви к этому отп написала что-то вроде... фика. Того. Про них. Про кунарероманс и путь Кун как единственно верную философию мира, что нам будут доносить кунари во втором драгонэйдже, кстати говоря. В общем, это смишно, кое-где глубинно и наполненно грамматическими ошибками, но коммандеру нравится, и я рада.
Джеричка и Стен. Не мои.
читать дальше
В общем, чудесный, дивный, прекрасный человек shi-no-dairinin, в этой обители порока под назвванием дайри известная также как Эрго злая, пошлая и прокси, играет в драгонэйдж. И персонаж ее вместе с другим персонажем, суровым мужиком с огромным мечом (кодовая кличка - Няшка Стен) - это такое отп, что ощыыыы, на уровне ТемаШики просто.
Это была присказка. Сказка в том, что я из любви к этому отп написала что-то вроде... фика. Того. Про них. Про кунарероманс и путь Кун как единственно верную философию мира, что нам будут доносить кунари во втором драгонэйдже, кстати говоря. В общем, это смишно, кое-где глубинно и наполненно грамматическими ошибками, но коммандеру нравится, и я рада.
Джеричка и Стен. Не мои.
читать дальше