Fic Teaser: Asit Tal-Eb (A Legend of the Seeker/Dragon Age AU)
So, occasionally I have the urge to do this thing, where I post some of what I have written of something even when it's not entirely finished. I usually try to resist, because OMG do I hate it when writers post the beginning of something that I really want to read, and then never post anything again ever.
This time, I can't resist. I have every intention of finishing this, though, and soon, so hopefully I will not become one of ~those writers. I just feel this burning need to share, and my muse isn't being cooperative enough for me to actually write it at the moment. Also I'm just really, really excited about this. It's going to be epic.
Notes: This is a chunk of what will be my exploration of Cara's backstory in the universe I created with The Tides Go In, The Tides Go Out. It's Cara/Dahlia, although with vastly different histories due to it being entirely in the Dragon Age universe. Obviously, Cara and Dahlia are not mine, nor are the Qunari and their culture. I think I've done a decent job with providing context for the Qunari terms I use here. If not, well...I plan on having a glossary included with the completed story, so hopefully that won't be a problem.
"Won't the Maker be mad at me if I turn my back on Him?"
The noonday sun burned bright overhead, its rays warming the two children as they sat among the tall grasses. They were close enough to hear the people working in the center of the compound: blacksmiths hammering at their anvils, farmers talking amicably as they worked the fields, and above it all, the ever-present sound of clashing steel and crisply shouted orders from the training yard.
She was the younger of the two, only ten summers. Her light brown hair was pulled into the customary plait of Qunari children, and it tickled her back where it brushed against the bare skin. She sat with her knees pulled up to her chest, still unaccustomed to being without a shirt. It had all been explained to her, how it was foolish to waste resources on unnecessary clothing; it made a sort of sense, but it had only been recently that she had been taken by the Qunari, and she still carried the weight of her old life with her. She was glad that at least she was given soft doeskin pants to wear, and simple sandals for her feet.
Her question was only half-serious; she may be new to the compound, but she had learned quickly that the Maker had no dominion here. The Qunari spoke of duty as reverently as she had ever heard anyone talk about Andraste, but they didn't seem to trouble themselves with where the world came from. All that mattered was that it was there.
"Didn't your Maker already turn His back on you?" Her companion raised an eyebrow, green eyes glittering with amusement. The older girl, a blonde of eleven, was far more comfortable in her skin. She sat cross-legged and straight-backed, arms resting casually in her lap. She had been at the compound much longer, and it showed; her skin was golden-tan all over, so unlike the pale porcelain of the younger girl's. “How could He know which way you were facing?”
The younger girl smiled a small smile and shrugged; she didn’t have an answer for that. She’d only ever believed in the Maker because her parents told her He was real. Now they were gone, taken away to be trained by the Ben-Hassrath, and she followed the Qun because the Qunari told her that was what was real. Her smile faded as her mind wandered. "What if I don't like the role they choose for me?"
"The Tamassrans do not choose your role," the blonde said, rolling her eyes as she stared out across the grassy hills. "They merely identify it. You are what you will be." She turned her head to look at her companion, a smirk playing at her lips. "Besides, you have a long way to go before your role becomes clear. You are still kabethari, and a child besides."
A frown tugged at the younger girl's mouth. The Qunari's words still sounded strange to her. "I'm still scared," she said stubbornly.
"Asit tal-eb," the older girl said, smiling reassuringly. "It does you no good to worry about what is to come. If it comforts you, I do not yet know my role either."
It was comforting, at least a little bit. The blonde had been the one good thing she had found among the Qunari. Everything else had been taken from her; her home, her belongings, even her name. After her parents were taken away, she had thought she was completely alone. The kossith children didn't speak the common tongue, and there weren't very many humans or elves at all in the compound she'd been taken to. The older girl still remembered enough from her former life to communicate, though, and she'd been teaching the younger girl to speak Qunari as well.
But the blonde’s twelfth nameday loomed on the horizon, and soon she would know her role, and no longer be Imekari. She was smart, and kind; she would end up in the priesthood, probably, teaching other girls the path of the Qun. Of course, the younger girl was no Tamassran, and could not presume to know what another's role would be.
The younger girl rolled over to lie on her stomach; the grass tickled her bare skin, and she flattened it with her palms before propping herself up on her elbows. "It feels wrong to call you Imekari," she said, idly playing with one of the colorful flowers scattered among the grasses the field.
Her companion peered at her over a tanned shoulder. "It is what I am."
With a sharp flick of her wrist, the younger girl plucked the flower from the ground. Twirling the stem between her fingers, she rolled her eyes. "But that's what they call me, too."
"It is also what you are," the blonde replied with an impish smirk.
The younger girl narrowed her eyes, but there was no venom in her glare. "I think I'll call you Cara."
"That is not wise."
"Just think of it as a nickname, silly. Or are those forbidden by the Qun?" She lifted the blossom to her nose; it didn't smell like much of anything at all…dirt and leaves, maybe. Nothing like the roses her mama used to grow. "It means 'friend', you know."
"The Qunari have a perfectly functional word for that. Kadan."
"But you're not just any kadan," the younger girl said, tapping the blonde's bare shoulder with the flower. "You're special. You're my Cara."
The girl who was now Cara frowned, all traces of amusement gone from her face. "Just don't let the Tamassrans hear you do it."
Smiling, the younger girl rotated on the ground until she was lying back against her companion, using a strong thigh as a pillow. “It’ll be our special secret,” she said, looking up into her friend's face. "You can come up with a name for me too, if you want."
Cara scoffed, rolled her eyes; it looked as though she was about to reject the idea outright, but her eyes flickered to the sweet smile on the younger girl's lips, then to the flower she was still idly waving back and forth. "What is that flower called?"
"Um…" She thought hard, trying to remember what her mama had told her about it. Her mama had loved flowers. Then she remembered. "It's a dahlia."
"Then that's what I'll call you," the blonde said decisively. "Dahlia. You're always playing with those things; it's fitting."
A bright smile sprang to the younger girl's lips, and she pushed herself up to her knees. She tucked the flower she was holding behind one of Cara's ears, leaning in to kiss her sweetly on the cheek. "I'll be Dahlia, then. And you'll be my Cara."
Cara rolled her eyes, but Dahlia could see the smile that tugged at her lips.
to be continued.
This time, I can't resist. I have every intention of finishing this, though, and soon, so hopefully I will not become one of ~those writers. I just feel this burning need to share, and my muse isn't being cooperative enough for me to actually write it at the moment. Also I'm just really, really excited about this. It's going to be epic.
Notes: This is a chunk of what will be my exploration of Cara's backstory in the universe I created with The Tides Go In, The Tides Go Out. It's Cara/Dahlia, although with vastly different histories due to it being entirely in the Dragon Age universe. Obviously, Cara and Dahlia are not mine, nor are the Qunari and their culture. I think I've done a decent job with providing context for the Qunari terms I use here. If not, well...I plan on having a glossary included with the completed story, so hopefully that won't be a problem.
"Won't the Maker be mad at me if I turn my back on Him?"
The noonday sun burned bright overhead, its rays warming the two children as they sat among the tall grasses. They were close enough to hear the people working in the center of the compound: blacksmiths hammering at their anvils, farmers talking amicably as they worked the fields, and above it all, the ever-present sound of clashing steel and crisply shouted orders from the training yard.
She was the younger of the two, only ten summers. Her light brown hair was pulled into the customary plait of Qunari children, and it tickled her back where it brushed against the bare skin. She sat with her knees pulled up to her chest, still unaccustomed to being without a shirt. It had all been explained to her, how it was foolish to waste resources on unnecessary clothing; it made a sort of sense, but it had only been recently that she had been taken by the Qunari, and she still carried the weight of her old life with her. She was glad that at least she was given soft doeskin pants to wear, and simple sandals for her feet.
Her question was only half-serious; she may be new to the compound, but she had learned quickly that the Maker had no dominion here. The Qunari spoke of duty as reverently as she had ever heard anyone talk about Andraste, but they didn't seem to trouble themselves with where the world came from. All that mattered was that it was there.
"Didn't your Maker already turn His back on you?" Her companion raised an eyebrow, green eyes glittering with amusement. The older girl, a blonde of eleven, was far more comfortable in her skin. She sat cross-legged and straight-backed, arms resting casually in her lap. She had been at the compound much longer, and it showed; her skin was golden-tan all over, so unlike the pale porcelain of the younger girl's. “How could He know which way you were facing?”
The younger girl smiled a small smile and shrugged; she didn’t have an answer for that. She’d only ever believed in the Maker because her parents told her He was real. Now they were gone, taken away to be trained by the Ben-Hassrath, and she followed the Qun because the Qunari told her that was what was real. Her smile faded as her mind wandered. "What if I don't like the role they choose for me?"
"The Tamassrans do not choose your role," the blonde said, rolling her eyes as she stared out across the grassy hills. "They merely identify it. You are what you will be." She turned her head to look at her companion, a smirk playing at her lips. "Besides, you have a long way to go before your role becomes clear. You are still kabethari, and a child besides."
A frown tugged at the younger girl's mouth. The Qunari's words still sounded strange to her. "I'm still scared," she said stubbornly.
"Asit tal-eb," the older girl said, smiling reassuringly. "It does you no good to worry about what is to come. If it comforts you, I do not yet know my role either."
It was comforting, at least a little bit. The blonde had been the one good thing she had found among the Qunari. Everything else had been taken from her; her home, her belongings, even her name. After her parents were taken away, she had thought she was completely alone. The kossith children didn't speak the common tongue, and there weren't very many humans or elves at all in the compound she'd been taken to. The older girl still remembered enough from her former life to communicate, though, and she'd been teaching the younger girl to speak Qunari as well.
But the blonde’s twelfth nameday loomed on the horizon, and soon she would know her role, and no longer be Imekari. She was smart, and kind; she would end up in the priesthood, probably, teaching other girls the path of the Qun. Of course, the younger girl was no Tamassran, and could not presume to know what another's role would be.
The younger girl rolled over to lie on her stomach; the grass tickled her bare skin, and she flattened it with her palms before propping herself up on her elbows. "It feels wrong to call you Imekari," she said, idly playing with one of the colorful flowers scattered among the grasses the field.
Her companion peered at her over a tanned shoulder. "It is what I am."
With a sharp flick of her wrist, the younger girl plucked the flower from the ground. Twirling the stem between her fingers, she rolled her eyes. "But that's what they call me, too."
"It is also what you are," the blonde replied with an impish smirk.
The younger girl narrowed her eyes, but there was no venom in her glare. "I think I'll call you Cara."
"That is not wise."
"Just think of it as a nickname, silly. Or are those forbidden by the Qun?" She lifted the blossom to her nose; it didn't smell like much of anything at all…dirt and leaves, maybe. Nothing like the roses her mama used to grow. "It means 'friend', you know."
"The Qunari have a perfectly functional word for that. Kadan."
"But you're not just any kadan," the younger girl said, tapping the blonde's bare shoulder with the flower. "You're special. You're my Cara."
The girl who was now Cara frowned, all traces of amusement gone from her face. "Just don't let the Tamassrans hear you do it."
Smiling, the younger girl rotated on the ground until she was lying back against her companion, using a strong thigh as a pillow. “It’ll be our special secret,” she said, looking up into her friend's face. "You can come up with a name for me too, if you want."
Cara scoffed, rolled her eyes; it looked as though she was about to reject the idea outright, but her eyes flickered to the sweet smile on the younger girl's lips, then to the flower she was still idly waving back and forth. "What is that flower called?"
"Um…" She thought hard, trying to remember what her mama had told her about it. Her mama had loved flowers. Then she remembered. "It's a dahlia."
"Then that's what I'll call you," the blonde said decisively. "Dahlia. You're always playing with those things; it's fitting."
A bright smile sprang to the younger girl's lips, and she pushed herself up to her knees. She tucked the flower she was holding behind one of Cara's ears, leaning in to kiss her sweetly on the cheek. "I'll be Dahlia, then. And you'll be my Cara."
Cara rolled her eyes, but Dahlia could see the smile that tugged at her lips.
to be continued.