Chapter Text
"We're going to...." she spoke in an overly excited tone, stalling for the answer. Varric already knew, which was why he was sitting there as if someone had just shat on one of his manuscripts. "The Fallow Mire!" She cheered loudly. There was a chorus of grunts and grumbles around the table, with Bull trying desperately to blend in with the table and Sera standing up violently, her chair falling backward "No, no, no, no. So not going. You can take care of those... weird things with their shite swamp all by yourself. I'm not going."
"But Sera, there's fun stuff, too! There's... Avvar women!" She cried at her friend. The only thing she got in return was a severely unimpressed look.
"...who would totally be shitting arrows at our faces."
"That's... true."
"Ugh." At that, she ran upstairs, all the while yelling "You can't make me!".
Well. That just left her Bull, Varric, and... hold on. Solas was nowhere to be found, as she'd checked earlier, though she had been finding him gone at rather odd times. She'd have to check up on that later. Maybe Bull had seen something. Dorian had mysteriously disappeared, and she had an inkling as to why. She was sure Varric had told the Tevinter mage.
That left her with Vivienne. Maker, why wasn't anyone of them a mage? She didn't want to take Vivienne. She was all about honour and skill and do stop dallying, dear. She had no sense of adventure in her, aside from the Game. However much she respected the woman for her expertise and skill, she couldn't stand sleeping in the same tent as her. Nine out of ten chances, she'd wake up to Vivienne freezing her to a statue because she snored. And she knew that she'd have to share with Vivienne, as Varric was scared shitless of the woman. Or....
"Bull?" That didn't really come out right. That sounded very pleading.
"Vivienne is out, inquisitor."
That... gave her pause. The Iron Bull smirked at her from his height, knowing all along what had been bothering her. She swore he could see the wheels of another's mind turning.
She was... at a loss, really. They couldn't go without a mage. They had to go find a mage. Without a healer, they would be dead, especially with the reckless way she fought. She really had to take Bull up on that training offer, sometime. Or Cassandra, really. But she couldn't be bothered at the moment. She did have to go to the Mire, however. Apparently, there was still a rogue apostate out there that needed to be dealt with. If Leliana hadn't pushed her into it, she would've just let the man rot in that swamp in peace. Ugh, she really needed Dorian.
"Bull..." She started again. She knew there was something going on between him and Dorian, surely Bull could convince him to come?
"Search the places with drink, Boss."
-xxxxx-
"Everything's soaked, I can barely breathe,
Maker knows what she's doing to me
If she doesn't have some wine to share, I'm sure I'll have to..."
"Dorian, you're fine, you're not dying, it's just fog."
"Says the person who dragged us here."
"-says the person who doesn't know that the person who dragged you here had been commanded to come here by our lovely resident Nightingale."
He held his tongue then. Everyone knew to keep quiet about Leliana - as much of a wonderful lady she was, she was also pretty ruthless and none of them where risking a dagger to the throat.
They had also been walking for hours now. It seemed as if the fog was just getting denser... or was that just her? The apostate had been dealt with ages ago, but somehow, they couldn't quite find their way back without stepping in a puddle with several corpses in it, alerting other, walking corpses. In Sera's words: "Those things are bloody shitty wrong, that's what!"
So now, they were out stuck who knows where in the Mire, still trying to find their way along. They couldn't light a fire, because they'd be assaulted by corpes. Couldn't call out, either, or the same thing would happen. She was sick of these things. She was sick of this place.
Even more so when there was a blur darting through the fog next to her.
She saw Bull stiffen up for a slight moment, and then it was gone. He'd have to teach her to control her emotions like that someday, too. Dorian and Varric were still blissfully unaware, walking a ways back from them, as they weren't the ones that had to keep the monsters of them with close combat.
"Boss." He mumbled in a low voice.
"Don't let them know we've noticed."
"I'm sure they already know. See, they're slipping by faster now... if this isn't some weird-ass magic trick."
She didn't know. Had no idea, really. The only people she knew of that could walk practically unseen like that where Cole and Sera. And a few of those bloody irritating rogues they'd encountered in the Hinterlands. She knew it wasn't a magic trick, per se... but then again, she had seen Solas and Vivienne flick in an out of a spot too, so who was she to know?
She held up a hand to signal the party to stop walking.
The longsword that was swung a hair away from her shoulder, she didn't quite expect. She ducked to the side, trying to see where it had come from, but to no avail. When she glanced at her side, towards Bull, she was rewarded with an irritated look, his eyes darting around everywhere to find whoever was out there. Well, they tried, until they heard a very distinct "Lethallan!" in a scolding voice off to her left. The fog was so thick, you could barely see your own hand if you held it out in front of you. As such, they didn't dare try to go towards the voice. Turned out that they didn't even need to. A male figure came striding through the fog, his face barely visible with how far he was still standing from them. He flicked a hand, and the fog around him disappeared. Neat trick, that...
"Who are you, and what is your business with us?" She called. Just in case, she had her fingers on the pommel of her sword, ready to unsheath it at any notice.
The man, now unveiled, stood watching them curiously. He was showing signs of a more mature age, with his hair greying at the temples. He was an elf, and a mage, as was apparent by his previous little magic trick and the staff he held in his left hand. It seemed as if he had to lean on it slightly to keep upright, which was odd, considering he did not seem that old.
The man obviously wanted peace, as he was keeping his free hand in the air and smiling apologetically.
"Peace, stranger. My daughter can be a bit brash at times... as I'm sure you noticed just then." He spared a glance behind him, seemingly trying to convey how displeased he was to the still invisible figure. "You do not seem to be the walking corpses or the apostates we've encountered before you, as my daughter thought you were. Really, the armour should have given it away." There was a humph in the fog behind him. "Honest mistake. A shem is still a shem." came the feminine voice.
The man sighed wearily. "My apologies. I am Zerithan,... previously from clan Lavellan. We mean you no harm."
Dorian perked up at that, as he does. "...previously?" He cocked his head in a very Mabari-like manner. Bull excuded complete calm when he warned him not to pry with a silent "Dorian."
Zerithan held up his hand again. "No harm done," he sighed as he looked at the mud his feet rested in. Maker, how awful it must feel to walk the Mire with only bandages around your feet.
"The Lavellan clan decided to throw us out. It's alright -"
"No it is not!" came the feminine voice from behind him. Presumably, his daughter. She darted forward through the fog to look at him. "You weren't thrown out! I was!"
"It is the same thing, lethallan."
"The hell it is! You're telling them you're an outcast when you are most definitely not. Have you forgotten that you carry a staff, Hahren?" She shouted. As her father looked at her with nothing but sympathy and shame, she sighed and turned to the party. With her arms folded, she surveyed the people before her. She had to admit, she demanded attention with just being there. Her red her coiled in tight braids on her head, her light armour and the knives strapped to her thighs and back told her she was everything but vulnerable. She looked like a hardened combatant. Her expression didn't leave anything to the imagination of what she would do to them, either.
"You know who we are now. Who the fuck are you, then?"
"Larya!"
"What? I'm only asking a question." She huffed, turning her gaze away from the group but keeping them in her sight in her peripheral vision.
Dorian laughed. Out loud. "Well, she sure has quite a mouth on her, doesn't she?" Bull shook his head, as Zerithan sighed and mumbled "That she does."
She took a breath and steeled herself for their possible reaction. According to Larya's belief, they would be able to send word to someone because they had found a wandering apostate. Zerithan was indeed an apostate at the moment, so she was right in her thinking. They could report him. But she wouldn't.
"I'm Rose Payne. This here is the Iron Bull, here's Dorian, and hiding behind him is Varric."
"Rosie, I am really not hiding." She threw him the most unbelieving look she could muster.
"And we're with the inquisition." she continued with a slight nod.
Whatever reaction she hadn't expected, it wasn't this one.
Larya ran towards her, all semblance of wariness and anger dissipated. Her eyes were huge, pupils blown wide with excitement and vigour. "You're the Inquisition?" She practically bounced on the spot. She was throwing her hands around in gesture as she went on with her excitement. If that wasn't called bipolar, Rose really wouldn't know.
"I mean, Nira joined you months ago, and she has been sending such exciting letters! But..." she trailed off, looking slightly confused as she took a step back and looked them over. "I expected...hm...a bit..."
"...less mud?" Rose supplied.
"...better clothing? Because really, I have been trying to convice them to wear something decent for so-"
"No." She cut him off. Probably a bit harsher than Rose had expected. "Less... diversity."
Rose looked around her. Sure, they had Bull, but....oh. For a Dalish, the must look quite the ragtag group, with their Qunari, dwarf, Tevinter mage and herself, a rather short human. Oh. Varric was the one who spoke up, however.
"Sweetcheeks, if that's the thing that displeases you, I'm not sure why you're so excited to see us. We do have quite a thing for collecting all kinds of diversity, thanks to our dear inquisitor, here." He winked at Rose, now standing behind him. True enough, she did collect diversity, in a way. First, there were the mages. She was also able to save a few Templars thanks to Cullen's help, and even one or two Qunari had dribbled in from the Free Marches. She even met a few sentinels a few weeks ago who returned to her previous offer and had decided to stay after all. Unless she sailed for Rivain or Antiva, she wouldn't really get much more diversity than this.
"Not at all. I am just suprised. I didn't expect a shem to accept that many people." And just like that, she looked wary again. Must've picked up on her being the inquisitor. Well, shit. A female noble, human inquisitor. If that didn't put Dalish off...
"Larya. This is no time for insults." Her father spoke up. However, his voice seemed weaker as he said it. Larya had picked up on it too. She whipped her head around to the man behind her. Zerithan looked pale and was leaning rather heavily on his staff. The first to move wasn't Larya, Rose, or Bull, however. It was Dorian.
"Here we are, chatting ourselves to death, without even noticing there's a man actually dying?" He humphed. "and you say I'm the chatty one." He was next to Zarithan at a moment's notice, drawing his arm over his shoulders to help him walk towards the party. Zarithan breathed in a very shallow manner as Dorian tried to examine him with a spell. Internal organs were never really her thing, so she had never asked how that worked. She just had to be stitched up or healed sometimes. Didn't need to know what was happening, exactly.
Dorian's face turned sour.
"He has an infected knife wound. Poison, from the likes of it. I can make the antidote, but we'll have to get to camp." He looked around, looking more worried than he was before. "If we can even find it..."
Larya spoke up. "We can see through this fog. You can't?"
"We know our way, but we've been lost for quite a long time because we can't see."
The woman obviously had a plan. "I'll lead you through it. Tell me what to watch out for, and we'll find one of your camps."
She paused before she added, "...only if you do not report him."
"I wasn't going to."
At that, Larya looked a little shocked. Why would she, when she had already seen what sort of group the inquisition was? Truth be told, however, they still had their fair share of templars. Rose couldn't blame her.
Larya exchanged her shocked expression with a determined glint in her eyes.
"Right then. Tell us were to go, and I'll lead the way."