#and kassaran can start writing books

[justanartsysideblog]

“We live in adjacent apartments and our bedrooms are on opposite sides of a very thin wall and one night I heard you crying and talked to you through the wall” AU

Oh my, look who finally finished an ask that was sent probably half a year ago? The writer’s block is strong, but I managed something, and that’s the important thing right?

TW for mentions of abuse.

Kassaran and Qal belong to @scurvgirl.

---

It begins as a small, soft whimper.

Melarue pauses, but goes back to their book a few moments later as the silence stretches. It’s the first night in their new apartment; laying low, after having to leave their last home and identity behind when an overzealous Templar mage-hunt had been set off, and Deceit had decided it was too close for comfort.

It has been a long while since they have had to leave so quickly—pack up and go and burn their trail and disappear. This city isn’t one they’d originally pick for a new beginning, but it’s a good interim home while they weave a new identity and decide their next move, moving money between bank accounts and making certain they’ve severed all past ties that anyone could try and follow.

They’ll be out of this place and on a plane to their new home in a month, two at the most.

Maybe I’ll go back to teaching, this time, they think as they turn another page. I enjoyed that job.

Another whimper cuts through the silence. This one is louder and followed by another soon after.

The walls are thin it seems. They glance at the fading wallpaper and frown. Deceit leaves them with the impression of a body pressed against the other side of the wall, curled in on itself, face pressed into a pillow as they shake.

It is…it is not their business, they know.

They listen for a few more minutes, but there is no other sound. They read for an hour more and then go to bed themselves, and think nothing more of it.

---

Three days later the crying starts again, not as muffled as the time before. The only light in their room comes from the glow of their laptop screen, as they look over the houses near Val Chevin that had piqued their interest.

They place their wine glass on the bedside table and lean closer toward the wall. They can hear shuffling, and the tail end of a sob.

They know the cause this time. They’d heard the raised voices, a male barking in qunlat, and the words had not been kind. They snuggle themselves into the corner and reach for their wine glass again, and lean their forehead against the wall.

“…are you alright?” They ask into the silence.

There’s a sharp intake of breath, and some sniffling.

They wonder if perhaps the other person does not understand the trade tongue, and repeat their words in qunlat. “Are you alright?”

The silence stretches uncomfortably, and Melarue sighs. If the person does not wish to talk there is no reason to continue. It had been a whim, really, to do this much. They glance back down at their laptop screen.

“…are you talking to me?” a whisper, but Melarue hears it clearly. Low and hoarse, but with a lovely lilt that has them tilting their head to hear better. They smile to themselves, “Of course,” they reply, “A pleasure to meet you.”

---

Her name is Kassaran. She enjoys reading celebrity tabloids, and sci fi books. She likes gardening, and has an aloe plant on her windowsill. She can’t afford anything else at the moment, but she talks of all the yellow chrysanthemums she wants to plant in her yard, if she were to have one.

And she’s pregnant. 

A worried mother, unsure if she is going to do well, and marveling in the feel of a life growing inside of her.

Parenthood has always seemed such a distant and obscure topic to Melarue. And yet they find themselves oddly fascinated with the stories Kassaran tells them, as they lean against the faded wallpaper and listen to the soft cadence of Kass’ voice.

They love the way she says their name, the stress she places on the a, and the sharp and hard r. The confusion at first, “What kind of name is that?” “It’s elvhen.” “You speak Qunlat so well!”

They are lonely, they know that very well. Deceit is a poor conversationalist and feels more like an aspect of themselves than a separate entity. They have kept themselves from simply having a friend for…they can’t remember how long it’s been.

They can’t remember a time when they’ve ever had a friend, to be quite honest.

So it isn’t difficult to imagine, a lonely soul reaching out to another, as if the wall between them both is some kind of protection against getting too attached. As if somehow that will keep them from liking her as more than just a pleasant diversion while they wait for their new passport photo to arrive.

Deceit even believes it, for about a week.

---

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Melarue pauses, and closes the book they were reading, and leans closer to the wall with a smile. “Good evening, Kassaran.”

“Hello Melarue.” Kassaran greets, and Melarue can hear the springs of her bed creaking as she shifts closer to the wall. “It’s late. Why are you still up?”

I sleep only when I must is the truth of course. Instead they glance at the time on their phone—3:02am—and then back at the fading wallpaper. “I was finishing the book you recommended. It is very good.” Also not a lie, they have quiet enjoyed it.

“See? Not everything written after the Dragon Age is garbage,” Kassaran teases. “Just because something is a classic doesn’t mean it’s good. You need to read more modern pieces.”

They think about the trashy beach novels they often pick up at airports before a long flight and shake their head. But they know she has a point. Kassaran’s suggestion was a wonderful distraction in between job applications. Perhaps they should give more modern books a chance.

“Most of the classics written by men, I agree. Humans tended to write with a singular direction back then. I cannot claim they’ve all veered from that path yet.” Melarue replies, “I would like to suggest, however, that you find a copy of Solaros’ Rebels of Silver. That is the title in the common tongue, I believe. It has been translated from elven, and is a wonderful epoch about several Dalish followers of The Cunning One. It was not a popular text, for obvious reasons. It was banned by the Chantry for a very long while. But it is still in circulation.”

“Is it difficult to find?”

“Most libraries have a copy,” Melarue answers, “And if not there are alternatives. Solaros also wrote several codexes on the life of Tyrdda Bright-Axe that are nuanced, informative, and relatively easy to follow. Historical codexes can oftentimes be quite dry, but he manages somehow.”

Kassaran laughs softly. “You sound like a teacher.”

“I do enjoy hearing the sound of my own voice,” Melarue quips. They can’t quite describe the warmth in their chest, or the smile still tugging at their lips.

There’s a pause then. Long, drawn out, and then a whisper so soft Melarue wonders if they are supposed to have heard it. “I like your voice.”

The warmth in their chest flares a bit, straight down to their toes.

Their new identity was finished days ago.

---

Melarue hears the horrible things that Kassaran’s husband says to her. They hear what he promises, and what he doesn’t, and they hear the soft tremor in Kassaran’s own voice when she replies.

Mostly they hear the tears, as Kassaran cries herself to sleep, and Melarue tries to ease her suffering by talking about everything and nothing at all. They paint pictures of far off countries that Kass has never visited, spinning tails of color and beauty that they don’t believe in themselves. They recite some of their favorite books from memory, old tomes that no longer exist save for faded pages behind museum glass.

They’ve seen how cruel and callous the world truly is, and yet…somehow, when they describe the good things to Kass, they can almost believe them.

“I’m leaving in three weeks,” Melarue whispers against the wallpaper. There is no answer, and they knew there wouldn’t be one, as they give a soft sigh, and close their eyes.

“…would you like to come with me?”

---

They do not ask Kassaran again, as Deceit whispers in the back of their skull. Do not get attached. It will cause us pain in the end. You can’t change anything. The only person you can protect is yourself.

Sometimes they wonder what the use of living so long and having so many gifts is, if not to protect the ones they love. If they had someone they loved, they would surely keep them safe. But it’s harder to stay safe when one is worrying about others. The more people they care for, the more emotional they will be.

Emotional abominations die quick, and painfully.

Melarue is, if nothing else, a coward. The uncertainty of death has always frightened them and kept them from ending their eternity themselves. And there has to be something more, something worth living for, worth the sacrifice they made.

They’re still searching…but sometimes in the soft silence, with the taste of wine in their mouth and Kass’ soft voice curling around them like a warm blanket, they think they may have found a start.

---

He’s yelling.

Obscene things, hateful things and Kassaran is pregnant.

They hear the screeching of the bed being pulled across the floor, and Kass’ plea, and they move before they know what they’re doing, the wall disintegrating beneath their hand, black flame tearing through wallpaper and wood and insulation until they can step through into Kassaran’s bedroom.

Deceit flings him across the room and away from the prone figure on the ground, and Kassaran collapses with a gasp as Melarue rounds on him. They wrap long fingers around his neck and lift him up easily with one hand, ignoring his flailing arms and guttural gasps.

Their nails grow longer, and sharper, and cut into skin. Hot, slick blood slides down their arm as they watch him through narrowed eyes. “You will never touch her or anyone else again.”

“…Melarue…?”

She’s cradling the rounded swell of her stomach, eyes wide in shock and fear. Melarue hopes the fear is not directed at them.

They look back at the monster who has caused Kassaran so much pain…and know that if they kill him here and now, Kassaran might never forgive them. So they release him and watch him fall to the ground gasping, and when he looks up to meet their eyes they lick the blood off one of their fingers and smile.

His blood is thick, and sour, and disgusting.

“I know what you taste like now. Now I will always know if you come near her or myself. And I am going to leave you with another parting gift,” They crouch down, and he flinches, tries to move away as they place a hand on his chest and let the blood stain the stitched-in pocket.

“I am going to curse you. Any time you hurt another person you will feel it as if the pain is your own. Never again will you have the opportunity to lay a hand on another person. Remember that, the next time you try.”

“…sa…sarabaas…”

“Something along those lines,” Melarue agrees, and wipes the rest of the blood off on his sleeve in a mocking, friendly pat on the arm.

Kassaran is standing now—of course she is, because even if Melarue hadn’t been there she would have saved her own child from this creature, because she is strong. Melarue did not need to do this at all.

They’ve only ruined things, made them worse, as they are want to do.

Deceit hisses at them. It is time to leave, time to get away. Their own bags are packed already near the door for tomorrow’s flight. Kassaran is still watching them, blue eyes shining in the dimly lit room. Her eyes never leave their face, even as her husband continues to whimper at Melarue’s feet.

Melarue swallows.

“If you…if you would like to come with me, I would make certain you are safe. If not, I can supply you with the means to leave and thrive on your own. You need not feel indebted to me for this.” It is not the most eloquent of lines, Melarue knows, but they need Kassaran to know she is no longer in danger…and that she no longer needs to remain with him.

FOOL, Deceit rages. We need to leave now. Kill him and be done with this.

No, if they kill Kassaran’s husband she will think them more a monster than she already does. Melarue can see it in her eyes. She’s afraid, and confused, and Melarue can almost hear her thoughts as she tries to put everything together, tries to decide what will be safest for her unborn child…tries to decide if the voice she heard on the other side of the wall and the elf standing in front of her are one and the same and if they can be trusted.

Melarue isn’t certain how long they stand there, as the last bits of black fire flicker to nothingness, and Kassaran’s husband starts crawling toward the door, coughing up a mouthful of blood. Melarue hopes he chokes on it, though they know they didn’t cut him deep enough.

“…ok,” Kassaran finally says, but her voice wavers a bit as she glances over at her husband. Then her eyes flit back to Melarue’s, and their heart skips. “Ok,” a little firmer now, as she steps toward them.

Melarue smiles, as that odd warm swells in their chest, and Deceit’s warnings fade, “Grab what you need.”

[scurvgirl]

I'm gonna prompt Wall AU because I love it and miss it.

Wall AU coming right up!

It started with the range. For some unknown reason, it wasn’t working. Melarue had sniffed all around the house and did a vaguely creepy thing where it looked like a shadow extended from their body and into the range to check fro a gas leak. But there wasn’t a leak, the range just wasn’t working.

Melarue decided that this was a good opportunity to go try this new restaurant one of the other professors was raving about the other night. Translated, the restaurant’s name is The Golden Fountain, which sounded fancy and a little pretentious to Kass but Melarue wanted to go, so they go.

When they arrive at the restaurant, Kass must correct herself. It is a lot pretentious and very fancy. She feels self-conscious in her over-sized purple plaid maternity shirt and jeggings. She’d dress nicer if anything actually fit, but finding clothing for her body size is difficult even when she’s not pregnant. Naturally, now almost in her seventh month, few clothing outlets sell clothes that come close to fitting her.

Melarue seems unconcerned as they help her out of the car, allowing the valet to park the car. Valet, and she’s in jeggings. She can feel the fancy people staring at her and it makes her tug at her hair a bit in a vain attempt to downplay her horns.

She can’t prove it, but she’s pretty certain Melarue bribes the hostess to take them quickly to a secluded table on the terrace overlooking the pond in the back. Thankfully there is almost no one else on the terrace to stare at her. She settles into a chair and begins to peruse the menu.

She tries not to spit out her water at the prices. Look, she may be living with Melarue, and they may cover all of her expenses, but that doesn’t mean she goes out of her way to bleed them dry of money. These prices though… even the cheapest option, an appetizer salad, is running twenty sovs.

Melarue orders a glass of wine to go with their appetizer - something said in Orlesian too soft and quickly for Kass to catch. She orders a water.

“This place is really nice, what kind of professor recommended this place?” She asks partially because she didn’t think normal professors could afford a place like this.

“Dr. Faucheux of the biological sciences,” they say, setting the menu down. They’re ready to order, probably, no definitely no worried about cost because really their funds are endless. No matter how many times they have told her this isn’t a debt to them, they’re not keeping track, they’re just…helping, she still feels like she needs to be careful.

Qal was nice too at the beginning. Not that she thinks Melarue is like him at all, but…caution is not something so easily won over.

She worries at her bottom lip and wonders if the seven extra sovs for chicken is worth it. She is ravenous, and the chicken will be good -

The waitress walks by with a plate with a giant steak to nearby table. The people ooh and aw over the steak and from the smell, she can tell why.

The baby kicks as if deciding that’s what they’re going to have. Alright, she can take a hint - and promptly widens her eyes in horror. Fifty sovs for a sixteen ounce ribeye! Salad it is, then.

She sets the menu aside to stop despairing over the prices and to actually talk with her…roommate? It’s been almost two months and she still isn’t quite sure what to call them. They’re certainly more than a roommate, she would dare-say they’re friends, but at the same time both sentiments seem lesser than what they are.

They talk about the day and it eases much of her discomfort. She’s almost forgotten the menu prices when the waitress comes back to take their orders. Melarue places their order, some fancy chicken, she thinks. Maybe…duck?

The waitress turns to Kass with a smile, “And what would you like?”

Kass smiles back, trying to seem as natural as possible, “May I have the house salad? No olives, please.”

The waitress blinks and she can feel Melarue’s frown across the table.

“Just the house salad?” The waitress asks, clearly confused.

“I’m not that hungry.” It’s a blatant lie that has Melarue lifting their eyebrow. Shoot, they always know when she’s lying, it’s like she’s got this big neon sign that flashes above her head - LIAR! LIAR! Looky here, we’ve got a LIAR!

“And what will the baby have, Kassaran?” Melarue asks before the waitress leaves.

“Wh-what?” Kass asks, face heating from the attention. They nod towards her mid-section.

“You said the other day it’s as if the baby has their own preferences, so what does the baby want for dinner?”

She knows they’ve got her with this one, and by the way their eyes gleam, they know it too. She sighs and glances over at the other table. They’ve got one of those blooming onion things too, which gets her thinking. The baby kicks again.

“The baby…wants a steak, medium rare,” she says in a soft voice. Melarue nods, prompting her for more, “And onion rings, lots and lots of onion rings.”

The waitress looks worried for a moment before she writes the order down and heads into the kitchen.

“Do they even serve onion rings here?” Kass asks, suddenly feeling terribly imposing. “Maybe I should call her back and -

“They serve onion rings, it’s not a difficult food to prepare,” Melarue cuts in quickly, though it does little to ease Kass’s worry. She absolutely hates to inconvenience anyone, particularly staff at a restaurant or a store. She’s the kind of person to wander around a store for hours without asking help because she really doesn’t want to bother the retail workers, they’ve got enough happening.

“Kassaran, it is the not the worst off the menu request they have received, I assure you. Places like this cater to people who will not be denied. The baby wants onions, the baby gets onion rings,” they say and she supposes they’re right. Still, when the waitress returns with her sparkling water (she doesn’t care what anyone else says, the bubbles are nice), she slips the woman a twenty and tells her to bring Kass’s apologies to the chef.

Melarue most definitely sees this but doesn’t comment, instead they smile softly at her.

The baby kicks again, Kass makes a noise of discomfort in response.

“Are you alright?” They ask quickly and she waves them off.

“The baby likes to jump on my kidneys, it’s not particularly comfortable.” She runs a hand over the swell of her stomach in an attempt to calm the baby. It won’t do anything, if anything she thinks the attention just encourages it - already.

Kass sighs and settles in, the baby will do whatever it wants to do in there, so might as well get on with her life as much as possible. She asks Melarue about their day and they talk about the various goings on with the university in the history department. Melarue even has her practice her Orlesian with them and they compliment her on being a quick study. She doesn’t know about being a quick study, but there is something to be said about necessity to learn the language when immersed in it.

The food arrives and Kass’s stomach grumbles expectantly at the sight of the steak and onion rings. The salad is also there, set beside the meal “the baby” ordered.

It’s only nice to feed the baby first, right? Right. Kass digs into the steak and the rings with restrained gusto. The steak is juicy and perfectly medium rare while the onion rings are just the right amount of crispy but still juicy.

Halfway through the steak, conversation resumes. She tells Melarue about some ideas she has concerning her writing that she has recently rediscovered. They listen and offer their thoughts, but they never impose those thoughts on her - they’re merely suggestions or observations that she perhaps did not notice at first. It’s such a stark contrast to how Qal thought of her ideas that it seems almost inconceivable. There is no belittling, no “leave that to someone who knows what that’s about” or dousing her aspirations with an eyeroll or a barely attentive nod.

They don’t ever say, “That’s nice, Kassaran. So what happened today was…”

She says, “I know it’s silly, but…”

“Even so, I’d like to hear it,” they reply. It���s an answer she hasn’t gotten before and she’s not sure where to begin, but she tries, telling them about how she wants to write books for vashoth kids. Especially for vashoth girls who just don’t have any representation in a lot of southern Theodosian media that doesn’t frame them as either comedic relief or worse. They compliment her ideas, another first.

“Would you like dessert?” The waitress asks upon return. The steak and onion rings are gone. Melarue has eaten their fill of their meal as well. They look to her in question and she blushes.

“I-I think the baby could go for dessert, yes.” She doesn’t know why this method helps, but it does. The baby wants it, the baby gets it. She orders a chocolate lava cake as the waitress takes the untouched salad away.

[selenelavellan]

Hogwarts AU

Or 

Oh Gods What Have I Done

Featuring

@feynites Dirthamen, Falon’din, Uthvir, Venavismi, Tasallir and Haninan

@scurvgirls Adannar, Serahlin, and Kassaran

@justanartsysideblog‘s Victory, Aelynthi, and Melarue

@elalavellas Ela

@lycheemilkart‘s Ana and Vitality

TW For Mentioned Abuse, and Fire

“I hope Dirthamen Evanuris takes a long walk off of a short dock!” Selene huffs.

“Ah, he's not such a bad guy, Sel.” Says Adannar from beside her as they stride through the halls and towards the Great Hall.

“You don't think anybody is 'such a bad guy' Addy,” Selene sighs dismissively “So that hardly counts for anything.”

“You aren't normally so quick to dismiss people, either,” he points out. “What is it about this guy that bugs you so much?”

“Who's bugging Selene?” Pipes in Serahlin as they join her and the rest of their group at one of the long wooden tables to eat lunch.

“Dirthamen Evanuris,” Selene mutters back before going into a poor impersonation of him “ 'Oh look at me, I have so much money and free time that I know every vague reference to everything ever and everyone else is always wrong because I know everything and blah blah blah.'”

Serahlin just gives a nod and a soft “Ah” while exchanging a look with Adannar. “I take it something in particular happened in class then?”

Selene throws her arms up in the air, frustration returning “He corrected the professor! 'Oh Professor Vitality I'm so sorry but did you know that according to Brother Genitivis writings in some obscure book that only exists in my personal collection, the dates you're giving us are inaccurate' like-like-UGH. What a pompous-STUCK UP, NUGHEADED-UGH!”

“Did he really say that?” Ana asks as she bites off the end of a piece of celery.

“No.” Adannar corrects.

“He may as well have!” Selene fumes as she stabs a fork into the salad that appears before her. “So sorry the rest of us peasants don't have access to every book in existence!”

“I think you're exaggerating,” Venavismi chimes in “He's a pretty quiet, docile guy. I think you two would get along if you just got to know each other.”

Selene levels a glare, fork pointed directly at Vena, one carrot matchstick dangling off the end. “That's traitor talk.”

“It's not traitor talk,” Vena laughs. “He's my roommate! And you're my friend! One people, one love, etc etc.”

“No, it's definitely traitor talk.” Ana says, scooching to sit besides Selene, who indicates towards the redhead with a 'See???' motion.

“Banana's just mad because I got the snitch before she did in the last match.”

“You cut me off!”

“From my perspective, you tried to cut me off.” Vena points out. “Selene, help me out here.”

“Oh no,” Selene says “I'm not a traitor.”

“You're a Ravenclaw! I won the match for our house!”

Selene just shrugs and plunges the fork into her salad with a quiet muttered “It's also that bourgeois nughumpers house, so you're on your own.”

“He's still leagues better than his brother,” Serahlin tuts. Her brother Tasallir nods in agreement beside her. “I hope he wanders into the forbidden forest and doesn't come back.”

“He still giving you problems?”

“He's giving everyone problems,” Serahlin nods. “I'm surprised Professor Melarue hasn't expelled him yet.”

“I heard they tried,” Uthvir says. “Headmaster Haninan said this place was his best chance to 'improve' though.”

“His potential improvement shouldn't mean the rest of us have to suffer.” Ela pouts.

“I'm sure they're doing the best they can,” Aelynthi points out. “If Falon'din crosses a major line, even Headmaster Haninan won't be able to stop Nanae from doing what they have to to keep the rest of us safe.”

“They should just get rid of the whole family,” Selene mumbles. “Save us all a lot of headaches.”

“Doesn't work that way,” Victory says, tapping her shoulder reassuringly “You'll just have to put up with him a while longer.”

“Five more years,” she groans. “I'm not gonna make it.”

–

“Your measurements are inaccurate,” Comes a voice from behind Selene. She jumps, having thought she was alone in the Ravenclaw Common Room this late at night. Or early in the morning, depending on your perspective.

“My measurements are fine,” she insists. Dirthamen scrunches his eyebrows together, moving closer to her and picking up the parchment with her experiment written on it.

“You have too much mandrake root for this desired effect.”

“It's fine.”

“Your antidote could kill the person you give it to. Is that your goal?”

Selene sighs, and snatches her parchment back from him. “Of course not.”

“Then I must re-advise; you are using too much mandrake root.”

“I'm really not.”

“Are you also using dragons breath? Selene, this potion is liable to-”

There is a small explosion then, an eruption of fire from her portable cauldron as a large draconian growl fills the common room. Dirthamens arm wraps around her shoulders, yanking her back and away from the worst of the flames.

The two of them cough, one of the windows flying open to let the smoke out of the room. Selene re-opens her eyes, blinking away the spots after the too bright flames nearly seared them out of her skull.

She sits up, pulling herself out of Dirthamens grip.

“Well,” She says, patting some of the ashes off of her cloak. “I will admit that there was, perhaps too much dragons breath in that particular attempt,”

Dirthamen nods, but Selene continues as though he hadn't “But not too much mandrake root. So you were wrong, too.”

He frowns, at that.

“You nearly blew the two of us up.”

“I didn't ask you to come down here.”

“If I had not, your face would be suffering severe burns.”

“Or, I wouldn't have lost my concentration, and would have noticed the excess dragons breath in time.”

“That seems unlikely-”

“But not impossible.”

Dirthamen sighs. Stands. Brushes some of the ash off of himself.

“I suppose that is technically true.”

A few other students start coming down the stairs to see the commotion, and Selene hurriedly packs up her things before they can ask her any questions.

Vena comes down the stairs too, noting the scorch marks and smoke still in the room, and makes note of Selenes absence from the room. He shakes his head, arms crossed over his chest as he looks at Dirthamen. “No luck, huh?”

“It appears not.”

–

The following years schedule brings with it several classes that Selene has to share with her self-appointed rival. She is not thrilled to find him in her Arithmancy class, Study of Ancient Runes, and Defense Against the Dark Arts.

She is even less thrilled when she is paired with him for Advanced Potions.

“Perhaps this way you will be less likely to set fire to the classroom,” He points out as they set up their station.

Selenes shoulders raise as she bites her tongue; she has to work with him for the rest of the year after all. Perhaps calling him a nughumper to his face isn't the best way to kick off the year.

His brother glaring daggers at her from the table behind them isn't helping things, either.

Selene does feel a pang of pity for Tasallir, who seems to be carrying the two of them throughout most of the assignments while Falon'din complains about smells and sticky substances on the floors potentially staining his boots.

But mostly she's just ready to smack Falon'din when he grabs her arm after class.

“Hey, bitch,” he sneers. “Stay away from my brother.”

Selene raises an eyebrow. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, I know about you two. I hear about you both getting all cozy and shit in the common room, I saw you cuddling up during potions. Its gross, and you need to stop. He's not gonna give you any money or whatever, so just leave him the hell alone.”

Selene frowns, and slowly pries his fingers off of her arm. “Listen,” she says. “I have never once, ever, sought out your brother. Apparently, someone on the school board seems to think its funny to throw us together at every turn, but rest assured, I'm not after any 'money or whatever'.”

“Then why'd you partner with him?”

“We were assigned partners you daft elf.”

Falon'din lets out a heavy breath through his nose and straightens.

“Fine. Whatever. Just remember, he's my brother.” he sneers before walking away.

Selene just shakes her head and mumbles. “They were right; you are worse.”

–

The next day in the Common Room, Dirthamen has a dark bruise covering much of his left cheek.

Vena stays at Dirthamens side for breakfast, and he joins the group for most of the morning.

Most of them stick to awkward conversation, trying not to mention it, or the way his eyes never seem to leave the bowl of cereal in front of him.

Selene feels a sting of guilt. Of course she had thought he needed a slap, but not...not like this.

“What happened?” She finally blurts, staring straight at Dirthamen.

The rest of the table goes silent, as he slowly glances up at her, rather than into his bowl of what by now is just soggy wheat with sugar and milk.

“I upset my brother,” he admits. “More than usual.”

“This is a usual thing?”

“Normally he is more careful not to leave a mark. Yesterday he seemed to be...particularly incensed, however.”

Selene drums her nails on the table. “Have you told anyone about this?”

“Our father believes we should 'sort it out' ourselves.”

“What about a teacher?” Aelynthi chimes in.

Dirthamen shakes his head. “It is a family matter.”

“The hell it is,” Selene says, standing abruptly. She holds out a hand for Dirthamen “Come on. Aelynthi, you come too.”

He nods, and the three of them make their way into Professor Melarues office, where Selene knocks thrice on the door before it swings open.

“Come in,” they call without looking up from their papers.

“Nanae,” Aelynthi responds, and that, at least, gets their attention. “We need you to do something.”

Selene nods, and carefully pulls Dirthamen forward towards the head of Slytherin house. “Falon'din did this.”

Melarue frowns at the large purple mark on the young boys cheek. “Your brother struck you, Dirthamen?”

He hesitates.

Selene squeezes his hand reassuringly in her own as he looks to her, and gives a small nod.

“...Yes.” he admits.

Melarue seems to become very still for a moment. As though running through a long line of possibilities in their head. “I will bring this up to Headmaster Haninan,” They assure him. “For now, please head to the infirmary. They will give you something there that will help.”

Dirthamen swallows and nods, but mostly seems thankful just to leave their office.

Selene follows him to make sure he actually goes to the infirmary, while Aelynthi heads back to the Great Hall and their friends.

One of the nurses ushers Dirthamen into a cot, and carefully applies some foul smelling salve to his cheek. He winces at first, but as the color starts to lighten and return to his usual skin tone, Selene can see some relief seeping into him.

“You do not have to stay.” Dirthamen informs her.

“I want to make sure you're ok.” She shrugs.

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“You do not...” he pauses.

Selene waits.

He sighs before continuing “You do not like me.”

“Who told you that?”

“It is apparent.”

Selene raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“...Vena may have mentioned it once, when I asked if I could join you all for breakfast in the past.”

“Well...he's not wrong.”

Dirthamen seems to sag a bit at that. “It is true, then.”

“You seem upset.”

“I thought...I had hoped, perhaps, that you and I could be friends.”

“Am I even up to your standards?” Selene scoffs.

Dirthamen blinks in confusion.

“Because you're so...” She gestures vaguely “Like, rich? And you know everything? And you've got all these rare books memorized and stuff? I'm sure you have tons of people lined up to be your friends.”

“I do not,” he informs her. “My brother is more talented at creating bonds with people than I am.”

“Your brother is a jerk.” She says bluntly.

Dirthamen blinks again. “He is my friend.”

“No,” Selene says, leveling a finger at him. “Friends don't hit friends unless it's Quidditch. Like when Victory accidentally got Aelynthi in the face with the quaffle? They're friends, but Victory still had to apologize. A lot.”

“My brother often hits people in Quidditch.”

“Well, yeah, he's a Beater. Probably a good outlet for him, honestly. But you don't play, so there's no reason he should hit you.”

“But I had upset hi-”

“Ever.” Selene emphasizes.

Slowly, Dirthamen nods.

She lets out a breath. “Ok. Alright, fine.”

Dirthamen tilts his head, eyebrows scrunching together as he waits for her to elaborate.

“We can be friends,” She says. “Most of our classes are together, anyways. We can walk together or whatever, and you can eat with us, and at the end of the day, you and I can go back to the dorms together. So that you aren't alone with Falon'din again. Ok?”

“I do not wish to be a burden on you.”

“It's fine,” Selene shrugs. “I just want to make sure you're...safe. We're friends now, right?”

Dirthamen nods again, his disposition becoming a bit cheerier at the title.

“Ok then,” Selene nods in return. “And just so you know, I kick the ass of anyone who hurts my friends. So if your brother tries to hurt you again, I'm gonna kick his ass.”

“I believe that is against school policy.”

“Then I'll duel him or prank him or curse his broom or something! I just...” She traces her fingers carefully over Dirthamens cheek, now back to its normal size and color, but still buzzing lightly with the recent healing, and whispers “Family isn't supposed to hurt you.”

He swallows, and nods again. Her hand lingers just slightly over his cheek before Selene clears her throat and stands. Offering her hand to him again, she helps him to stand, and they make their way to Study of Ancient Runes.

“Did you do the homework?” he asks, trying to ease some of the awkwardness between them.

“Yeah, but the one from page 238 tripped me up, I couldn't find it in any of my reference books, I'll have to ask Professor Kassaran about it.”

“It is from a harder to find collection,” He nods. “I have a copy in my room.”

Selene resists the urge to roll her eyes.

“You could borrow it, if you'd like.” he says.

She blinks, and looks over at him.

“Really?”

He nods. “That is the sort of thing friends do, yes?”

Selene swallows and nods. “Yeah. Thank you.”

[scurvgirl]

What’s Normal Anyways?

More Wall AU!

Melarue belongs to @justanartsysideblog

They end up closing on the “modest” chateau quickly, and Melarue is quick to bring in contractors to get the work done in the house. The kitchen needs updating and a powder-bathroom needs to be added to the first floor as well as other general fixes around the house. The initial quote involved a six-week timeline that Melarue was not happy about. There were discussions that Kass was not a part of but the time has been halved and they will be moving in in three weeks. In the meantime, they live in the swanky apartment in the heart of Old Val Chevin.

There was a very polite argument on who should have the actual bedroom. Melarue won the argument and now Kass begrudgingly wakes up feeling ridiculously pampered in a gorgeous room bathed by warm morning sunlight. It’s not right, it’s their apartment, their money, they should be waking up in the gorgeous room bathed in warm sunlight, not lounging in the office that doesn’t even have a window.

They dedicate the rest of the house hunting day to procuring furniture and things to live by until they can move into the house. Among the things Melarue purchases are a TV, a large couch that she’s pretty sure they only purchased because she mentioned how nice it cushioned her back, and two thousand dollars’ worth of knives because “one should never skimp on proper cutlery.” By the end of the shopping trip, Kass felt sick – sticker sickness, she’s decided to call it, because it’s just…so much. Halfway through, they just started concealing price tags from her and always sent her on errands while they paid so she wouldn’t see how much they were spending.

It’s just another slap in the face of how ridiculously wealthy they are and how there is no way she is ever going to repay them. She locks herself in the bathroom that night and cries as quietly as she can, entirely too overwhelmed. It’s not that she isn’t grateful, or that she wants to leave them, just…she wants to know what it’s like to be completely free, to not be tied down by someone holding a chain or by guilt through a checkbook. And she knows that it isn’t going to fix itself immediately, that she needs to work and incur as few costs as possible, pay rent, her share of the utilities, buy her own food…but right now she feels like she can cry about it a bit. Also, she’s pregnant, she gets some leeway there she thinks.

To their credit, they don’t confront her about the crying and let her go to sleep without fuss. When she wakes up, she finds they’ve set the TV up. They smile at her and show her how to work the thing and together they find a movie they both like. They curl up on the large couch together and end up watching movies for the rest of the day, eating sandwiches for lunch and ordering cheap pizza for dinner. And by the end, she feels calmer, less shocked and more comfortable. They are wealthy, but not lofty, and they hold no ideas of keeping her captive or indebted.

The Monday after they arrive and settle on a house, Melarue’s job begins. They are bustling through the house, gathering their things, and eying her as they move from room to room. Kass sips her tea, curled up on the couch, trying not to chuckle.

“The first day is always the scariest, imekari. You’ll do fine,” she chides playfully. She sees them rolls their eyes as they pull out a pad and begin to write on it.

“I have a class from 10:30 to 11:30 then a class from 1:00 to 2:45, then I have office hours and meetings until six. Feel free to order any food you want, if you need me, you have my number, and my office is in Ameridan Hall, third floor, room 316.”

“I’ll be fine, Melarue,” she says, trying to ease some of the tension in them. She doubts they are nervous about their work which means they are nervous about her. For what? She is used to being left at home to her own devices. They went grocery shopping the other day, there is food and with the phones they just bought, she can order anything so…everything will be fine.

She has things to do, like job research and potentially looking into learning Orlesian. Still, Melarue pauses at the door.

“Have a good day, I know how to reach you if I need you. Go, mold the young minds of tomorrow!” She encourages them. Their lips twitch upwards.

“Alright. Do call if you need.” They turn and leave, taking a significant presence with them.

The apartment feels very, very large suddenly. The ceilings are impossibly high, the fireplace is too fine, and when she sneaks a peak at the street below from a window, she’s reminded very much of how she’s in Val Chevin. Adjustment is going to take an annoying amount of time.

Kass retreats from the window to the computer resting on the dining table and begins her search. She runs into the problem of not knowing Orlesian much more than she was expecting. Also, qualifications…she basically doesn’t have any. When she initially moved south with Qal, she worked at a sandwich shop. Then she got pregnant and Qal got a promotion at the same time, so…he wanted her to stop working.

Former Tamassrans don’t work in sandwich shops.

But now she needs work, but she doesn’t know the language, she doesn’t have a bank account, she doesn’t have really anything. Is she even here legally? She doesn’t know.

Panic tries to well up in her, but she squashes it quickly. Not the time, not the place. Instead, she pokes around until she finds the Qunari, Tal-Vashoth, and Vashoth Cultural Community Center of Val Chevin. It’s a mouthful, but everything on the website has Common and Qunlat translations available and they advertise aid in job finding, language courses, and even counseling.

Her day is decided then. Kass showers and dresses, then heads out with the directions to the community center written on a page from the notepad. Google told her that walking would only take twenty minutes, so she goes on foot, heading towards the university campus. The center is located across the street from the main library. It’s a beautiful area, with old roads and trimmed trees that are beginning to change in color with the season. There are students milling about, some are splayed out in the grassy areas with books surrounding them.

The center itself is slightly underwhelming. It’s a small white building with a modest sign out front declaring its name. She heads inside, a bell clinks announcing her presence and a cheery looking person pops up behind the welcome desk.

“Hello!” They say in accented Qunlat, “welcome to the together center!” They’re clearly vashoth, Kass thinks, with their accent and using the wrong word for ‘community’. That is a common mistake though, qunlat has roughly twenty different words surrounding the concept of community.

“Hi,” Kass replies and their eyes widen a bit.

“My name is Kassaran,” she says in Common. Qunlat, or at least the Qunlat she knows, doesn’t have phrases for names.

“A pleasure to meet you, Kassaran. I am Kalit, are you new to Val Chevin?”

Kass nods and her hand lands on her stomach, “I am. I um…it’s a bit of a complicated story…I was really just hoping to get some help with a few things?”

“Of course! What are you looking for?” Kalit shuffles over and sits expectantly at a computer.

“I need a job, but I don’t know Orlesian, and I don’t even know…” she purses her lips and wonders what she can and should not say. Her pause is long enough that Kalit stands up and comes around from the desk. They’re very short for a qunari, and they have exceptionally round features, she wonders if one of their parents is a dwarf.

They gently take her hands and smile up at her.

“You’re Tal-Vashoth, right?”

Kass nods.

“We don’t get many who have actually left the Qun, mostly we get vashoth students trying to find a place in a university that largely still doesn’t get it. But we can help, Shokrakar is in her office, who is really the best when it comes to counseling people on this.” Kalit releases one of Kass’s hands but holds the other as they lead her down the hall to a room with the door propped open.

“Dr. Valo?” Kalit says, pushing the door open.

“Yes, Kalit?”

“There is someone who could use your counseling services. This is Kassaran, she’s Tal-Vashoth.” Kalit guides Kass into the room. It’s a nice room, painted a soft blue decorated with black and white photos of various happy qunari people. Behind the large white desk sits an impressively tall qunari woman. Kass guesses her to be from Seheron, rather than Par Vollen with her black hair and dark eyes, the low-riding horns.

She looks up from her computer and smiles immediately Kass before rising.

“Hello, Kassaran. I’m Doctor Shokrakar Valo, please call me Shokrakar.”

“Nice to meet you,” Kass replies, shaking her hand. The doctor gestures for Kass to take a seat, thanks Kalit who leaves, shutting the door behind them.

“So, Kassaran, what can I help you with today?”

Kass swallows and fidgets with the hem of her shirt, “I really just need a job but I’m finding that to be unrealistic?”

Shokrakar nods, “Yes, unfortunately in Orlais, ninety-five percent of jobs require you speak Orlesian. But there are a few that don’t require it. I have a checklist of things I like to give people when looking for work – things like a bank account, payment plans for any debts, financial planning, those sorts of things that I have found many Tal-Vashoth specifically have a harder time with.”

“Yes, I…don’t really understand any of it. You know, under the Qun, everything is taken care of – you have your role, your monthly stipend dependent on your role that is attached to your citizen ID number, and that’s it.”

“Right, but it isn’t as different here as you think it is.”

For the next thirty minutes, Shokrakar explains as much as she can about the financial system in Orlais in how it will relate to Kass, even with the baby. There are apparently things like tax breaks for having children, and even programs for single parents to help support them – all dependent if she is here legally of course. Kass still doesn’t know, and she explains as best she can that this all happened in a way that she still doesn’t fully understand. The thirty minutes after that, Kass finds herself telling Shokrakar about how she left the Qun with Qal, to start a life happy and free from the toxicity plaguing their souls in the Qun.

“It wasn’t even a week ago that I was with my husband, locked in our apartment, and now I’m here and it’s great, but it’s just…”

“Overwhelming. You went from the Qun to Qal, that must have been…”

“Difficult, yes.” Kass rubs her stomach where the baby presses against.

“But I’m here now, and my…” what exactly is Melarue to her? Her friend? Rescuer? Roommate? None of the words seem right. Friend and roommate feel small for what Melarue is, and rescuer makes them seem like a superhero. Which…maybe they are, they have the aloofness of one, and the potential required tragic backstory – why else would they have their passenger? But friend…friend is closest.

“My friend, Melarue, they are very kind and are helping me.”

“So, you have a place to stay? Food? What about doctor appointments?”

Kass nods to the first two but pauses on the last. Doctor appointments, right. She shifts around and Shokrakar clicks around on her computer.

“I have doctor recommendations for you – when was your last appointment?”

Kass bites her lip. About that.

“Um. Qal said that women have been having babies since the beginning of time without doctors so…after we got the confirmation, he just said to keep indoors and eat well and I would be fine.”

Shokrakar blinks then nods very slowly, “…Alright. Well. That dathrasi can’t hurt you or your baby anymore. This is the information of a very trusted OB/GYN in the community. I will tell her to expect your call, she works at a clinic on the other side of campus that offers affordable care.” Kass takes the note, reading the name of the doctor carefully. Her brow furrows and while it seems like such an odd thing to be able to pick out….

“Forgive me, and you don’t have to answer, but…were you trained as a priestess?” She asks softly. Priestesses always had very specific looking handwriting, it was supposed to mirror that of Koslun’s.

Shokrakar pauses for a moment then smiles the sort of smile that Kass knows too well.

“Yes. But I loved science and the Qun and the priesthood…you know. I left to pursue science. I got a doctorate in sociology and now here I am, guiding people like a priestess would.” Her face is sad for a moment before she shakes it off.

“I think that’s good. The rest of us…we still need guidance, and while you aren’t serving the Qun, you’re still serving, you’re being true to yourself, and no matter what the Qun says – that’s good. You make the community strong.” It is a favored saying in qunlat to describe one who is valued and good. While it’s a remnant of the qun, she can see it light Shokrakar’s face up.

“Thank you, tama,” she replies. Kass’s face flushes, not in embarrassment but in acknowledgement of what she was. She knows that certain habits die hard, and some ways of being never change.

The rest of their talk goes well, she gets some information on how to enroll in Orlesian classes and some places that will hire her. Shokrakar tells her about a support group she has for specifically Tal-Vashoth persons. There is a qunari women’s support group as well, though it isn’t specifically Tal-Vashoth.

After their talk, Shokrakar decides to take her out for lunch. Because she has a class after lunch, they head to a café attached to the library where Kass orders a large spinach salad.

By the end of lunch, Kass feels like she’s made a friend and promises to keep in touch. Shokrakar suggests that perhaps Kass and Melarue come over for dinner some time. Shokrakar’s wife, Aada, would be more than happy to have them.

“It’s been great meeting you, Kassaran, feel free to call or text or email me any time – Tal-Vashoth have to stick together right?” Shokrakar jokes and Kass nods.

“Definitely. Thank you for everything!” Kass replies. They part ways, Shokrakar heading to her class and Kass heading back to the apartment. It is a beautiful day, the sky is filled with soft white puffy clouds, barely concealing any of the sun’s light. There is a gentle breeze rolling through the streets, ruffling Kass’s hair.

Today’s already been a good day, and it still has hours left! Speaking with Shokrakar has made her nostalgic for the better parts of the qun. Like the food. Kass believes that everyone is preferential to the food native where they grew up, there’s emotions and flavors there that other cuisines don’t have. And while the qun didn’t work out for her adult life, it wasn’t bad for her childhood. Like most children under the Qun, she enjoyed the feeling of having many children her age to play with, all under the care of the same Tamassrans.

When Kass arrives back at the apartment, she sets to work to creating a dish that takes hours upon hours to make. Not all the ingredients can be found at Orlesian grocery stores, she found, but she makes do with what was available.

She turns on some music and dances along as she cooks, feeling light and bright and happy. The apartment is filled with music and the smell of spices by the time Melarue arrives home. She hears them stop and pauses her singing before leaning over the kitchen island to wave at them.

“Welcome home! I hope you don’t mind, I went to the Qunari, Tal-Vashoth, and Vashoth Cultural Community Center today and it made me miss traditional foods so much. I hope you like spice!” She declares happily, dancing back to the large pot on the stove. She stirs the pot then tosses in the chicken that had been previously pan-frying. She covers the pot, checks on the rice, then sets to heating up some bread to go along with it all.

She turns to see Melarue’s wandered into the kitchen, sniffing the air with a smile.

“That smells delicious,” they say and she beams in return.

“Good! I hope you like it, if you don’t that’s fine though! Qunari foods tend to be polarizing for non-qunari,” she babbles, reaching up into the cabinets, pulling out several dishes for them to use.

“Normally there are several other spices, but I understand that Par Vollen doesn’t quite like letting them go. If you leave the qun you shouldn’t have any of its comforts – as if the qun owns the plants on the island as well,” she continues, bitterness lacing her tone. She blinks then shakes her head.

“It still has fifteen more minutes, if you would like to get changed into something more comfortable.”

“I can help, if you need. I was not expecting you to cook dinner,” they tell her, rolling up their sleeves, revealing long elegant hands.

“Um,” she hums, trying to think of things for them to do. She ends up handing over the warming of the bread which is busy work at this point. She apologizes though, it’s just that this last part is really nothing – the chicken just needs to simmer in the pot with the sauce for a bit. They seem understanding enough about it though, which is reassuring.

They do end up changing before dinner and by the time they’re back, she’s making their plate. They take a bite and hum in happiness.

“This is delicious, Kassaran, thank you.”

A small flicker of pride and happiness flares up in her chest, as well as some surprise. Qal had always expected dinner when he came home. But Melarue seems surprised and to be genuinely enjoying what she’s made.

Worry and tension eases from her shoulders as she digs into her own food.

“What did you do at the Community Center?” They ask.

“I talked with a Dr. Valo? She’s a sociology professor at the university. I wanted to see if they could help me find a job. Um, I…don’t think it is going to be simple? A lot of jobs require proficiency in Orlesian, which I am going to learn. Dr. Valo said she could get me enrolled in language classes at the university, so…hopefully I’ll be able to get a job and start maybe paying you back for everything you’ve done and that’s a lot and I am so thankful for everything really and I want to pay you back but it’s probably going to take some time and I am really rambling, I’m sorry!”

Melarue blinks then wipes at their mouth a napkin, “Kassaran, you don’t need to feel indebted to me. If you acquire a job and find means to leave and that is what you want, I will not stop you. I will not hold any debt over you. But thank you, you are very kind to want to pay me back.”

“I want to pay rent,” she blurts.

They pause then nod, “That is fine, as long as it is proportional to your income and does not impair you.” That is more than fair and she bows her head in thanks.

“I-I also need to go see the doctor.”

Their attention snaps to a point at that, “Is something wrong? We can go now.”

“No, no, everything is fine right now, I just…haven’t been able to go since getting the pregnancy confirmed…” The concern in their face does not wane, if anything they look even more concerned. After a moment, they release a long breath.

“Did Dr. Valo give you any recommendations?” Their voice is even but there is a sharpness to it and Kass wonders if their passenger is responsible for it. But there aren’t any cloying shadows or anything and their nails a normal length, so…maybe not?

“She did. A Dr. Merev – she works at the clinic on the south end of campus?”

“Alright. Do you know if you’ll need payment for it?”

“Probably, Shokrakar, uh Dr. Valo, said that she is affordable but probably still needs money, I’m sorry.”

Melarue waves her off, “It is no trouble, you and the baby need care, I’m more than happy to help.”

“Do…do you want to go with me then? Since it’ll be your payment information. I-I wouldn’t feel comfortable just using it myself,” she says, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

“I can go depending on the time.”

“What time would work for you?”

“I have nothing on Friday after three.”

“I will shoot for something after three on Friday, then.” Kass smiles and they both return to their food. After a few minutes, the silence draws on for what feels like a damning amount of time.

“How was your first day?” She asks.

Melarue shrugs, “It was good. I’m excited to be teaching again, even if some of the professors are…well let’s just say not all of them are aware of their history as they should be.”

“Oh dear.”

“It’s nothing dire, more annoying than anything. I’m afraid I frightened some of my human students off already,” they chuckle in a way that say that they are not in fact afraid about anything, or annoyed, but delighted at their current state of affairs.

“Well it sounds you are where you’re supposed to be. Those kids are lucky to have you,” as am I, she thinks.

“What classes did you have today?”

“Introduction to Elven History and a seminar course – The Dales: An Elven Perspective. The introduction course is the one where I am sure some of the human students are less than pleased, but then if they want their human-centric and friendly history they can take that oaf Dr. Renaudin’s class.”

Kass chuckles, they are so passionate about it!

“They would be fools to miss out on your class. But then, oafs do tend to attract fellow fools.” She tears her bread and begins to sop up the sauce, spooning some chicken along with it.

“What makes him oafish?”

They finish chewing and sigh, “Where do I start?”

As it turns out, there are many things that make Marcel Renaudin an oaf – an ignorant, racist oaf at that. Kass is by no means an expert on history, particularly elven history, but she knows that marginalized populations often get their history…reworked to fit in with the oppressors’ history. It happens in the Qun, even, mostly erasing the legitimacy of rebellions lead by Tal-Vashoth and Saare – mages.

This Marcel Renaudin is the sort of historian to endorse such…revisionist history as far as Kass can tell. Sure, Melarue is biased but Melarue is also sharp and Kass suspects they have lived through a lot of the history they’re talking about. So…she’s going to take their word over his.

Their conversation lasts past dinner, and they help her clean up. They’re rather insistent about it since she cooked. She “needs to get off her feet”. It is…a very different change of pace. She’s used to cleaning up. Qal would sit in the living room, winding down from the day, watching TV, and then she’d slip into the bedroom to read.

But Qal isn’t here and Melarue is kind. Kass sits down on the couch and clicks on the TV. There is…a ridiculous number of channels. How does she even choose? She settles eventually on the Home and Gardening channel. There is a show featuring a couple searching for a home in Denerim, Ferelden.

After Melarue finishes with the dishes, they take a seat next to her with a stack of papers.

“You already have things to grade?” She asks incredulously.

“No, I took a survey in the classes on some of the common misconceptions about elven history. I’m going through them, taking notes to see what I need to focus on.”

“That’s clever,” she says. They smile and they fall into a companionable silence as Kass watches her show and Melarue works through their papers. Every so often she looks over at them, sometimes their face is relaxed and simply reading, nodding along and making marks on a little notepad, others their brows are drawn and their lips are pursed. Sometimes they look to be incredulous, pen hovering indecisively over the notepad.

Their eyes flick up to hers behind their glasses, and she blushes. She quickly turns back to her show – the couple picks the second house, which seems silly to Kass since it was so out of budget.

The night continues quietly like that until Kass decides to head to bed. Melarue smiles at her and tells her to sleep well. For the first time in forever, Kass sleeps diagonally on a bed and it is glorious. She wakes up with a smile, stretching her body out over the bed. It is her domain! Her little kingdom of sheets and blankets and pillows – and she is the queen of all things soft and happy…for all of five minutes before her bladder screams in protest.

She relieves herself, showers, then heads into the kitchen for breakfast and her morning tea. Melarue’s nose wrinkles at her tea and she cocks her head.

“Do you not like tea?”

“No, it is odorous leaf water.”

She laughs at that, “It can be stinky, this is true. This blend is supposed to help the baby though, so, down it goes.”

“Well, of course if it’s for the baby,” they reply, reaching for their travel mug of not-tea.

“Did you eat breakfast? I’m going to scramble up some eggs if you’d like some,” she offers.

“Not this morning, I have early class, but I will be home earlier.”

“Alright, I was thinking maybe pasta for dinner?”

“Sounds delicious.” They grab their bag and wave bye to her as they leave, much easier today than yesterday she notes. Good, she doesn’t want them to worry.

The rest of the week follows in a similar pattern – she wakes up in time to tell Melarue to have a good day, she has breakfast, then leaves to go explore the city. She finds she really likes the university campus and a small square that’s a five-minute walk from campus. She enjoys getting all the fresh air and she spends a fair amount of time of walking through the university’s gardens. The house has such potential for a truly lovely garden, she needs ideas of what grows well down here.

She brings up the gardening ideas with Melarue who seems very eager to begin their garden. Wonderful! It’ll be a good weekend activity, and if she stays with them, the baby will have a gorgeous garden to grow up in and hopefully tend to themselves.

Kass makes dinner each night and Melarue cleans up. She begins to explore more of the channels and finds some programs she likes. It is amazing to her that there is a section dedicated to being ‘on demand’, full of shows and movies that she can just say ‘I want to watch this’ and boom – she can.

She discovers the amazing terrible-ness of Lifetime movies and honestly? She’s hooked.

The only day that ends up being a bit odd is Friday when she heads to the clinic with Melarue for her 3:30 appointment.

She wasn’t nervous before about it, partially because she hasn’t felt bad because of the pregnancy. She had some morning sickness at the beginning, but everything she read said that was normal. But now she keeps fidgeting with her sleeves, her purse, nibbling on her lip. The baby moves, seeming to know that their mama is nervous.

They take a seat in the waiting room and Melarue sets to filling out financial information.

She’s called back at 3:45. She stands up but Melarue does not, she looks at them quizzically.

“Do…would you rather not come back?” She asks. She knows that it is a bit…out of the ordinary to ask a friend to come back with her, but, well…she could use the support. But only if they don’t mind!

“I can come back if you’d like,” they offer carefully and she bites her lip before nodding wordlessly. Asking for help is difficult, particularly after everything else. But Melarue doesn’t hesitate – they grab their things and step up next to her. They follow a nurse back into a room where various measurements are taken. Blood pressure, height, weight, oral medical history (that is difficult to give since she has to translate everything from qunlat and medical terminology is always weird with that).

She changes into the typical paper gown for gynecological visits.

“Why are these offices always cold for these visits? Like they know we’re going to be pretty much naked, why is it cold?” She bemoans, pulling the robe closer to her body in a vain attempt to feel warmer.

“Like they expect me to expose myself not just their prying eyes but also to the cold air? They are asking too much,” yes she is whining, and no she doesn’t care. She’s cold, she’s pregnant, and she’s freaked out. She can whine.

“It is oddly chilly in here,” Melarue murmurs, looking up. They cock their head and their eyes flutter shut. After a moment, Kass hears something shift in the ceiling. Melarue opens their eyes and warmer air begins to flow out from a vent in the ceiling.

“OH!” She turns to them, “you’re too sweet! Thank you…and thank you for coming back, I know it’s weird but…we’re not exactly normal.”

“I do not mind, Kassaran. I’m…glad you feel comfortable having me here.”

There is a nervousness to them that has been present all week. As concerned as she has been about them letting her stay, she’s beginning to think they’ve been equally concerned on her leaving or somehow rejecting them over their condition. And her insistence on getting independent can’t be helping that.

“I really appreciate it, everything. You’re a wonderful friend.”

The doctor of course decides to come in before they can reply.

“Hello! I’m Dr. Merev.” The doctor billows in, quickly shaking Melarue and Kassaran’s hand. She looks down at Kass’s belly and glances at Melarue.

“Is the baby –

“Not theirs! Um, I mean…I have, had, a husband and he’s qunari so the baby is on a total qunari baby track. Ten months.”

“I’m a friend,” Melarue clarifies and the doctor nods, going along with it while she pulls on some gloves.

“That’s fine, I was just checking because elven-qunari children usually have different gestation than a qunari-qunari baby. Normally shorter with more heartburn for some reason, but that’s not the case. So, how far along are you?”

“Twenty-one weeks and…six days,” Kass answers. Dr. Merev goes through several more questions and it doesn’t take long before Kass has to explain that no, she hasn’t had doctor appointments because of Qal. Like Shokrakar and Melarue, Dr. Merev pauses for a moment and Kass shifts around awkwardly.

“Alright, you’re here now and we’re going to make sure you and the baby are healthy.” Dr. Merev goes through what feels like pages of questions, everything from diet to lifestyle to how easily Kass conceived, if she’s noticed anything unusual, as well as any pre-existing conditions she’s aware of.

Then comes the joy of having cold goo being squirted onto her abdomen.

“Since you haven’t had any doctor appointments, I’m guessing you haven’t heard your baby’s heartbeat.” Kass shakes her head. She knows that it’s normal to have heard the heartbeat months before now but then again, ‘normal’ doesn’t include Qal, she guesses. Dr. Merev moves the wand thing over Kass’s abdomen and then –

Wub wub wub wub wub wub.

“Oh,” she breathes. She’s not sure if the reaction is the same since she’s felt her little baby moving and kicking around already, so this isn’t the first real confirmation of life in her but it is…something else. That’s her baby’s heartbeat, a strong, happy heartbeat. She stares at the screen, watching her little one’s head and body and oh! There’s a little hand!

“Good news, everything looks good – ten fingers, ten toes, the skull looks good for proper future horn development. Your child is not going to be hornless,” Dr. Merev says, which Kass was expecting. Hornless children are rare for qunari, hence the stance that hornless children are ‘special’. She likes the horns anyways.

“A very normal looking baby, congratulations. Now, for some news you may not like – because of the lack of prenatal care, and because of the high stress environment you have been in, it has greatly increased the risk of this pregnancy. Your blood pressure is high, which is a risk factor for preeclampsia. Qunari pregnancies outside of the Qun are already higher risk pregnancies that human, elven, and dwarven pregnancies. So, you need to be in low stress environments. Not bed rest, but no strenuous work, low sodium diet, make sure you take your prenatal vitamins.”

Kass nods, she will make sure to take the vitamins, but the low stress environment…

“We just moved here and I don’t have a job, I wanted to get one, help pay rent, utilities, can I still do that?”

“I would strongly advise against it. If you need it to live, then do what you need to do.”

She leans back against the examination table and takes a deep breath. Dammit, dammit, dammit.

You can’t work while pregnant! Qal had yelled at her, demanding she turn in her notice at the sandwich shop. In some sick way, he was right – but because of what he has done. She knows that. It’s not…he’s…. Just dammit. Dammit it all.

She can just see her debt to Melarue, whether they recognize it or not, rising and rising. She’s not a small woman, she eats, and she’s growing a person, so she’s probably eating more than normal. She incurs a cost of utilities, shit they even bought a house because of her and she can’t even work to help them.

“Kassaran, there is no issue with this. Your and the baby’s health come first, I am happy to share my home with you,” Melarue tells her softly. She covers her face and works on breathing so she doesn’t cry.

“I know, and I am so, so thankful. I just…I’m this lump. I don’t want to be this burden that just weighs you down when you want to do things.” She sniffles and tries to hold the deluge back. It’s just not fair to them to have her laying around the apartment or the house doing nothing. Sure, she can cook and clean for them but she hardly sees that as enough.

“No, no, you are not a burden, Kass. The farthest thing from it. Even when we had that wall between us, you made every day better. I am more than happy to help you.” She feels their hand gently rest on her left horn, slowly running their hand back in a reassuring gesture. She leans into their touch for a moment before moving her hands from her face.

“…Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

They haven’t given her any reason to doubt them. From just taking her all the way here to buying the house to…every day, spending time with her.

She exhales a long breath and turns to the doctor.

“Alright, but I am going to take Orlesian classes, I might as well with all this down time for the next five months.”

“That is an excellent plan,” Dr. Merev says and proceeds to clean Kass up and revert the room back to normalcy. Kass is given a prescription for her prenatal vitamins and sets up her next appointments before leaving with a cute little sonogram of her baby.

She can’t work but…she’ll make it work. She’ll cook, clean, keep the house, and it’s just because it seems fair. If Melarue is going to be working and bringing home the bacon, so to speak, then she can keep a nice home for them.