Chapter Text
4th of Bloomingtide, 9:31. Haven.
It’s been awhile since I’ve had the time to write something down in my journal. These last two weeks have been busy and stressful and I’ve honestly been too tired to sneak in here and jot down a few words. It wouldn’t look very good to pass out in the dragon pens, I bet.
Since I came into Thedas last month, it’s been nothing but hard work and little fun.
Just like Mauve had told me, I was eventually booted out of my room by some older cultists and escorted down to Haven. The rooming in the temple and inner sanctuary were only reserved for inner cultist people apparently. The cultists that had lacked the aptitude in combat or couldn’t handle dragon rearing remained in Haven. They spent so much time working you could almost mistake them for normal people, honestly. Farming food and producing clothing and other basic necessities for the people of Haven and the Temple.
Living in Haven is surprisingly simple and easy, actually. I wouldn’t mind it if they didn’t, you know, kill people.
I ended up bunking with a quiet couple-who gave me dirty looks on the side when they thought I wasn’t looking-and their daughter who carried around a dirty ragdoll most of the time. The father was an older man with a scruffy beard and yellowed eyes that followed you around the room quietly. His wife was younger than him with a pale complexion and glossy long golden hair. I think she was supposed to be a few months pregnant from the noticeable bulge within her dress.
They were both awkward around me and obviously felt uncomfortable even being in the same room. Their daughter, Clara, didn’t mind me at least and actually was nice to me on occasion.
One time after dinner, I saw her playing with her toys, you know, as kids do. She invited me over to play with her and graciously accepted her offer with smile. I joined in on her game with one of her other dolls which was a poorly knitted knight of some kind and a wooden painted mabari.
I thought up a quick adventure for them unlikely trio-the knight had been held captive by a horrible demon and the mabari had found the maiden to embark on a journey to save him-and we spent a good while playing this out. I have a big number of cousins within my family, younger and older, so I like to think I’m particularly good at keeping children occupied and having fun. Playing with Clara reminded me a little of being home.
The little blonde child was laughing at a humorous antic of the mabari companion when I noticed her ragdoll was getting even more filthy as we played.
“Clara, your Maiden is dirty! Why haven’t you cleaned her?” I tutted at her.
A flush grew on her freckled face and she played with her hands in embarrassment and told me her mother had been too busy to clean her since she first got it. That was pretty understandable, the people of Haven spent a good portion of their time working and praying to Her. Deciding to be nice, I offered to take it down to the lake and scrub it down for her.
“Really?”
“Yeah, really! Hand her over!”
Clara quickly shot up and handed me the doll in a rush of eagerness. I laughed at her excitement and turned the doll over in my hands to examine it. It had a mess of red stringy hair and a tan dress. It’s button eyes and knitted smile flashed up at me. It was covered in a mass of dirt and a large stain that reached from her dress to her face. Clara shook my shoulder and told me to hurry up so we could keep playing before we had to go in for the night. I chuckled and shushed her.
I had no idea what that stain was and I was wondering if I would need to use soap to scrub it out or not. I picked at the dark brown blotch that resided under it’s right eye and brought the doll up to my face to sniff it.
Dirt, grass, her mother’s overburdening perfume and-oh.
I recognized that smell. It was like a handful of dull pennies had been thrown in my face. Blood.
This was blood.
I was thrown back to my time in captivity. The sharp stench of blood that had dried on the floor. I could feel the heavy metal boots kicking me again and the shouting that ringed in my ear. The floor was rocky and cold and everything hurt so much. Why hadn't anyone come to save me? Why was no one coming to stop them? I just wanted it all to STOP.
Terror began to pool in my stomach and I could feel myself shaking. The food I had just ate threatened to come back up and I couldn't breathe. My eyes started to prick and ache and I felt the familiar urge to cry again. But I couldn’t cry in front of Clara, she would know something is wrong and tell someone and my cover would be blown and I would killed they would kill me oh god
“Are you going to clean it?” Clara inquired in a innocent tone. I couldn’t stop myself from envying her for a quick second.
I had to stop myself from throwing the ragdoll back to her and rushed into the house with the excuse of suddenly not feeling too well and a quick promise of cleaning it up another day.
I think I’m done writing for tonight. I’m so ready to go home.