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Dorothea stopped in her tracks. She'd never been particularly against staring, other than needing to be to navigate the web of social mores and ritualistic norms involved with being a woman who knew how to get what she wanted, but she was rarely ever embarrassed by it.
She’d never seen a woman like the one standing across from her in the market, talking to Anna. She looked unreal - she had to be seven feet tall, with muscles the size of her head, and the way that comically tiny breastplate barely covered her legs, her abdomen, her, well, breasts ...
It looked so obscene that Dorothea slightly understood why the Church refused to allow women to become brawlers. Not that it seemed to have stopped whoever this was.
Dorothea thought to shake off the warmth of her cheeks, but thought better of it. Perhaps it was a bit presumptive of her, but she somehow suspected subtlety wasn't going to be the winning strategy here.
As she approached, Anna smiled slyly at her, and Dorothea politely returned it. She never could tell if Anna was judging her, but she struggled to read Anna more than she did just about anyone. Either way, the mystery woman caught the gesture and craned her head to look down at her, grinning.
“Ah! Stranger!” she announced. “Perhaps you can assist me?”
Dorothea attempted to place the woman’s extremely thick accent, but totally failed, which immediately threw off Dorothea's script. It sounded very vaguely Leicestrian, but closer someone was doing a middling impression of what they thought people from there sounded like. And she should know, since as an actress, she’d practiced middling impressions of what people thought people from Leicester sounded like.
“Here,” said the woman, extending one of her massive hands and opening her palm. Dorothea blinked several times at what she’d presented to her. It looked impossibly small in her palm, but there was no mistaking a ring. The craftsmanship, though... even without looking closer, it was astonishing. The design itself was unique, the band split into the shape of parallel spears, the heart-shaped topaz jewel in the center surrounded by a simply decorated, convex circle...
It was beautiful. And incredibly expensive looking. Far too expensive for even a good soldier’s salary.
“I have been offering a reasonable price, and yet, this tradeswoman refuses my offers,” said the woman, although she didn’t sound angry about it as much as puzzled. “It’s worth any price, wouldn’t you agree?”
Dorothea, for the first time in her life, attempted to find her voice.
“Well,” she said, smiling as she looked up, and up, and up, at the woman’s face. “I certainly think so, but paying it... you wouldn’t want a poor, innocent businesswoman to go into debt, would you?”
Anna smirked wryly. Dorothea turned to her without batting one of her well made up eyelashes.
“Well?” Dorothea said cheerfully. “How much is she asking for?
“Ten thousand,” Anna answered. Dorothea thanked years of acting lessons for holding back her instinctive wince.
“Now, now,” said the woman, turning back to her and chuckling. “I did offer eight-thousand! Seventy-five hundred, even, if I recall!”
“Well, I’m... reasonably sure that can be bought,” Dorothea said, truthfully. “But she’d have a hard time finding a buyer.”
“I find that hard to believe,” said the woman, with a shake of her head. “I have sold my works for five, no, ten times as much! My offer is a steal, really.”
“I’m not saying you stole it,” lied Anna. Dorothea could tell by the way she’d daintily placed a finger below her lip - apparently Anna had decided subtlety wasn't a winning strategy either. “But unless a very generous very rich noble happened to walk by, I’d be a vagrant overnight.”
Dorothea got the hint, although she didn’t know how she wouldn’t have, since Anna might as well have spelled out B-U-Y-I-T like she was speaking in front of a small dog. She briefly considered her budget, considered the small irony of what she was actually buying considering what she’d spent a lifetime being accused of, and made her decision.
“Now, Anna,” she said, tilting her head just so. “I’m sure a master businesswoman such as yourself can see the craftsmanship of this ring can’t be given a mere price. It’s not like you to give up so easily, is it?”
The woman laughed boisterously, tossing her head back. Dorothea glanced over, and then went back to looking at Anna so she could stay focused.
“Exactly!” the woman said, waving her hand towards them before clenching it into a fist. “Now, this girl, I like! A woman of taste!” She laughed again, and for the same reason, Dorothea tried to ignore the vibrations along her extremely visible abdomen. “Bwahaha!”
“Well, if you're not interesting, I will gladly pay full price for it,” Dorothea continued, dragging her eyes up to her face. “Although, I’m afraid, I... don’t carry that much coin on me. You understand, I’m sure.”
Dorothea somehow doubted the stranger did. The woman shrugged lightly, nothing more than a rolling her shoulders.
“But, I’m sure you know that I was a rising star of the stage,” Dorothea continued, smiling. “If you’ll come with me to my room... I’m sure we can make some arrangements.”
Anna whistled in a way that made it very clear that she was judging, but to Dorothea’s surprise, the woman didn’t bat her very well made eyelashes either.
“I see!” she said, exaggeratedly windmilling her arm and cracking her neck from side to side. She extended her other gigantic hand towards Dorothea. “Then lead the way, yes?”
With a nod, Dorothea wrapped her arms around the other woman’s... or attempted to, since the woman’s arms were so absurdly thick that she couldn’t actually reach them around her biceps. She settled for leaning against her, in the world’s most difficult dance of walking arm in arm with someone and not tripping over your own two feet.
“I hope I can make it worth your while,” Dorothea teased.
“Ha!” barked the woman as they walked. “I look forward to it!”
As Dorothea nestled against the strange woman’s shoulder, she felt strangely lightheaded, and for many more reasons than just the obvious ones. She’d heard a lot of jokes about “bigger up close” directed her way, but she’d never experienced a woman with this much... bulk.
But that wasn’t actually what was making her feel almost dizzy. As she laid against her, she couldn’t help but admire the shape of the woman’s head, every part of it sharp and pointed from her jutting chin to her blade-like noise to even her perfectly helmet-shaped hair, somehow without a drop of sweat.
The woman grinned, chuckling again. Dorothea felt every decibel reverberate through her body.
“What a ride!” the woman said admiringly. “You know how to treat a woman!”
“I think I was the one doing most of the riding there,” Dorothea smirked.
The woman laughed again. It was such a sharp, loud laugh. Powerful but gentle, shameless and unafraid.
“Very true!” the woman said. “Not just anyone can handle a woman like me. You have talent.”
Dorothea’s brow furrowed.
“I’m flattered, but... I’m not sure if that was actually a compliment.”
The woman turned her head to look at her, looking vaguely confused.
“Hm?” she said, raising one of her long, thin brows. “I didn’t mean to be insulting. Or was that arrogant of me?” She shook her head slightly and rolled back over to look at the ceiling. “Ah, I see. ‘Talent’... that’s the wrong word.” She raised a bare arm and waved it at the ceiling, extending one of her gigantic fingers. “Yes, skill! You have skill.
Dorothea laughed softly. “And that’s an improvement...?”
“Well, of course!” said the woman, turning back to her and grinning. “Anyone can have talent. But hard work, effort, dedication... that takes true strength, no?”
“Is this still about sex?”
“Yes!” said the woman, with zero hesitation. Dorothea was struck by her makeup, especially her eyelashes - she’d noticed it before, but it was so perfectly done it rivaled her own. It must have taken hours. “The streets, the sheets... only some learn to dance, but anyone can do a few blows, am I right? Bwahaha!”
Dorothea laughed.
“Yes, that’s certainly true,” she said. “And I must say, I did enjoy our little dance.”
Dislodging herself from the woman’s side, she started to sit up. She’d made the wise decision of being on the side of the bed that allowed her to still get off, so to speak, since the other woman took up every square inch even when she wasn’t lying next to her.
“I believe I owe you for the ring, though,” she said, turning her legs over the side to stand.
A huge hand, gentle as a feather, laid itself over her shoulder.
“Wait.”
Dorothea’s cheeks burned in a way that felt totally unimaginable. If she didn’t know exactly why, she would have been confused.
She knew why. She just didn’t want to admit it.
“What’s your name?” Dorothea heard from behind her. Even with that deep, gravelly rumble, it was the most gently she’d spoken.
“Ah, you really are new here,” she replied lightly, despite her heart pounding. “I am Dorothea Arnault. I take it you’re not a fan of the opera?”
“A fan?!” said the woman, and Dorothea did her best to keep her balance as she felt the entire bed literally bounce , her mattress groaning from the effort. “You must be joking! I love opera! The passion... the romance... the history! Ah, it is divine!”
Dorothea tried to process what she was hearing. The Mittelfrank Opera Company was one of the greatest sources of musical talent in the entirety of Fodlan, and she was not so above tooting her own horn, if one would pardon the wordplay, to not admit she’d been largely responsible for it.
“But you haven’t heard of me?” Dorothea said, becoming increasingly annoyed. “If you’re trying to get on my good side, I’m afraid you’re wasting your time. I’m not as easy as people like to think.”
“Hmm,” said the woman, the sound again reverberating through Dorothea’s skin. “My nonna raised me not to lie, so I will be as bare to you as this body.”
Whatever protest Dorothea might have given stopped when she realized that, in all her life, she had never heard the word “nonna.” It was enough to get her to turn her head to face her. For the first time, the woman looked completely serious. Her total undress only had the effect of making her look like a painting or a statue, a great masterpiece of a mythical hero, her arm crossed casually over one raised knee, her shoulders as firm as her steely expression.
“I am Marisa,” she said. “I am not of this world.”
“Oh?” Dorothea said bitingly, instantly annoyed again. “What a plot twist! I would never have been able to tell.”
Marisa shook her head slowly.
“You are a clever woman,” she said, waving her hand towards her, pointer and thumb extended. .“Surely you have noticed the number of strange people of late?”
Dorothea considered it. She certainly had - who couldn’t? There’d been a number of people in Garreg Mach with behaviors ranging from eccentric to bizarre, suddenly asking questions, offering to be mercenaries. Nobody had been able to figure out where they were from.
She’d dismissed it. The war had brought with it a lot of people of that nature, so it hadn’t seemed worth concerning herself with. Even if it wasn’t for the war, she wouldn’t have bothered making plans with any of them, and none of them even looked particularly interested in anything she would have had to offer.
“Out here, you’d be stranger if you didn’t stand out, I think,” Dorothea replied with a smirk.
Marisa grinned.
“Yes, so it seems,” she replied. “So, then, have you heard of Greece?”
“Can’t say I have, no.”
“Perhaps Italy?”
“Now you’re just making sounds.”
Marisa laughed, gesturing towards her with her palm.
“Then we are even!” she announced. “I have not heard of your history, you have not heard of mine. So, you see, we are of different worlds. Literally!”
Dorothea was an extremely good judge of when people were lying to her face. She looked for some kind of tell, but there was nothing, and as much as she’d underestimated this woman so far, she somehow doubted she was that good at improv.
“Well, if I might be so bold as to pry...” Dorothea replied. “What would possibly bring you all the way here?”
“Simple,” Marisa replied. She adjusted herself into a seating position - Dorothea didn’t attempt to hide her gaze any more than Marisa attempted to hide herself - and raised both hands. Extending her palm with one and making a fist with the other, she slammed them together with a sharp clap. “I must swat down a bothersome fly.”
“How... menacing,” Dorothea replied. “Not someone I know, I hope?”
“I have my doubts!” Marisa laughed, putting her hands behind her head and leaning back against the wall. “Unless you’ve seen any old men wriggling around of late?”
“Too many for my tastes,” Dorothea replied vaguely, smiling. “But not anyone I’d consider a friend, no.”
Marisa’s huge grin faded into a smile. “I like you, little songbird. If this was to be our last meeting, why, I must say that even I could not hope to express my sorrow!”
Dorothea turned her head from her and sighed deeply. She stood up, took a breath, settled herself. This part was familiar, even if she wasn’t usually on this side of the equation.
“You’re certainly candid, Marisa,” she said, walking towards the other side of the room, where a mountain of unwanted gifts, letters, and more gold than she ever could have imagined growing up all stared at her. “But I’m afraid that part of my life is long gone.”
Marisa was completely silent as Dorothea looked through everything. Gold by itself seemed, well, not exactly blasé, but at least unsatisfying. She did feel she owed this woman something a bit nicer, at least.
“I spent a long time looking for partners, yes,” she said, settling on a ruby necklace that she’d placed around the neck of yet another giant stuffed bear. It was the most expensive thing in the lot, even though she had to wipe the dust off on the bear’s fur. “But this is a war. Any one of us could be killed tomorrow. I’m not sure I’ll be around nine days, nine weeks, nine years...” She gripped the necklace’s chain in her fingers, then breathed out. “Nine months. I’m not sure any of us will.”
Turning back towards the bed, she walked to Marisa, who had moved to sit at the edge and was staring at her seriously.
“I hope this suffices,” she said, handing out the necklace with all the pomp and circumstance she felt it deserved.
“For...?” Marisa said, raising an eyebrow.
Dorothea suspected she knew the answer, but answered anyway. “The ring.”
Marisa laughed so loudly and sharply Dorothea almost jumped.
“Bwahaha! So you think my love is transactional, is it?”
Marisa grinned from ear to ear.
“Keep it. And the ring. You owe me nothing, little songbird.”
Slowly, she stood to her feet. Dorothea, startled, took a step backward, but all Marisa did was put one hand on her hip and stand tall. Just like before - powerful but gentle, shameless and unafraid.
“Allow me to give you some advice,” Marisa said. Dorothea’s heart pounded in her chest, but... not for a reason she was very familiar with at all. “None of us know if we will live nine more years, nine more months... even nine more seconds!”
Marisa took a deep breath, and then raised her head towards the ceiling before spreading her arms out wide. In the thin light of the dormitory, she somehow looked more like a goddess than Rhea had ever pretended to.
“And yet, here we are, living! Why should we live in fear? In this wide world, why should we not go wherever our heart takes us?”
Marisa laughed deeply, her voice reverberating from every corner.
“I will not let fear decide who I am, or who I offer my heart to!” she said, like a declaration to the heavens. “I am Marisa, the strongest woman in the world, and my heart knows no bounds! I will love whosoever I choose!”
She glanced down again. Physically, Dorothea still felt like a mouse next to her, a mouse in front of a lion. But, now, suddenly, Marisa didn’t feel as tall.
“The choice is yours too, little songbird,” Marisa said, smiling. “But do not let fear make it for you.”
Dorothea swallowed the lump that’d formed in her throat. She felt strangely naked, even considering that, literally, she was. And not even the sort of way that she’d felt so many lifetimes ago. She felt like Marisa could see right through her, right into a part of herself that, for the last five years, she’d locked even further away.
“You’re kind, but... you can’t promise me a future,” she said, softly, wrapping an arm over her chest and gazing down. “No matter how many speeches you make.”
“No person can promise the future,” Marisa said, shaking her head. “And, if anyone says they can...” She slapped her fist into her palm again. “Show them for the fools they are for me, yes?”
Dorothea smiled, shaking her head.
“You remind me of someone I knew.”
“In a good way, I hope!” Marisa said.
Dorothea breathed out. She tried not to think of specifics, even though thinking of the lives lost in the war of people she hadn’t considered her friends wasn’t any better. But...
“Yes,” she said, looking into her eyes and smiling wider. “I think so.”
“Hhm,” Marisa said, chuckling. “Well, as I said... the decision is yours.” Dorothea watched as she looked around the room, then started to gather her clothes. “But let us at least meet again, no? I would love to learn more of your history!”
Dorothea watched for a few moments, feeling strangely awkward. Somehow, in all the time she’d spent preparing for a moment exactly like this, she’d forgotten her lines.
As Marisa finished pulling her comically tiny breastplate over her chest, Dorothea decided to stop thinking about it. She tossed the necklace underhand towards Marisa. Marisa, without blinking, snatched it out of the air like an arrow and stared quizzically at it.
“I told you, little songbird...” she said, turning back to look at her.
“Oh, come now, Risa,” Dorothea said, putting her hand on her hip. “‘Little songbird?’ I’m sure you agree there’s nothing little about me.”
Marisa laughed, loud and sharp.
“Bwahaha! Then I accept this gift!” she announced, raising the necklace high. “From Dorothea, mighty robin of Fodlan!”
Dorothea giggled, snickered, and then laughed herself.
“We’ll work on it,” she said.
Marisa grinned wide.
“And our future.”