Chapter Text

Evelyn never thought moving into another state was an issue. When she planned the date, the exact place, called the owner and made the deal, she actually felt excitement of a change, of independence from the Trevelyan family business that awaited her. She ignored the pleas of her mother to stay at least within reach, she refused to acknowledge her father’s jaded remarks of how she couldn’t even buy proper food for a week that wouldn’t consist of crackers, sweets and apples, or cook for herself. She turned down offers from her cousin Lotharn to come live with her in Nevarra and thought it was amusing when her great-aunt Lucille called the other day to ask if Evelyn was actually moving in with her lesbian girlfriend.

Evelyn didn’t know until now who exactly Lucille meant, nor where her being lesbian came from. She left her to it though, much less of an amusement of her mother (she actually thought of Isabella but didn’t really remember Lucille ever meeting her Rivain friend).

Maybe it was the pressure of her family who tried to dissuade her from the moving that kept her going with such vigour, not caring about their opinions – or consequences on that matter. She didn’t stop packing, making calls to make sure her new home was ready to use, her new work prepared for her arrival, the movers scheduled to the exact day and hour. All her belongings were neatly folded in boxes and bags, labelled for easier unpacking, protected with a bubble foil or polystyrene. Her mother commented with snide remark of her not being able to keep her room clean ever, but suddenly packing so strategically but she just ticked patiently finished tasks on her list and didn’t react.

Her father wasn’t talking to her since the moment he realized she couldn’t be swayed. The last thing he said was solemn you’ll crawl back soon enough, and then decided to ignore her very presence. She couldn’t say she wasn’t sad about it, but her father was always a hot head, who thought tough love worked on everyone.

Well, it probably worked on her, usually. But not now.

She was ready for this.

It all worked out – the movers arrived in time, her ride picked her up only few minutes late, her family mostly kept the glares to themselves and several long, tiresome hours later (four and half, she was counting minutes at the end because Philliam decided to play his favourite music on repeat and quite frankly she wasn’t really that big on Country to being with) she found herself in Ferelden.

In very cold, very wet and very rainy Denerim city, inviting her in with grey sky and chilly weather, and at first she thought it was a bad dream because she accidentally fell asleep in the car after fifth heeeey, brotheeeer and she needed to wake up.

“Well,” Philliam tugged his coat closer to his body the moment he got out of the car, squinting against the drizzle that was falling from the sky. “Nice place, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she squeezed out of her, checking one more time if the address of her new home was correct, and looked at the building that corresponded with the right numbers.

It was old as balls.

“Have fun, I guess,” he patted her on her shoulder and it was apparent he didn’t like the place, nor the weather, or the country, and just wanted to get away as fast as he could. She understood, but for a moment a swell of panic raised in her, once all the responsibility issues crashed on her shoulders like a heavy weight and she didn’t want him to go.

Of course she hadn’t expected a palace. She didn’t even think it would be anything close to the house her family owned in Ostwick – spacy, bright and, well, rich. But even though she kept low, believable hopes for her new home, this wreck made her unsteady and kind of desperate. The house had peeled plaster all over it, she would even swear she saw cracks – or maybe it was just ivy crawling here and there. The stairs leading to the main door were unsightly, obviously ignored during the onslaught of the unsavoury weather, and she could almost see herself hurting her feet on it during winter. One of the railings on the left side of the stairway was broken and it apparently had been for some time since weed was poking out of the broken stone.

“Want me to help you unpack or something?” Philliam asked and she could tell from his tone he was actually begging her to say no so he could run away. At first she thought of not letting him, to keep one known face around her, even though he would probably hate her for it, but then she just mutely shook her head and offered a weak smile.

“Kay,” he bowed his head a little and threw one more glance at the shabby building Evelyn was now ought to call home. “Take care, Eve.”

“You too,” she whispered and he probably didn’t even hear her in a flurry of motions of kissing her cheek, hugging her fast and storming back into his car. She watched him starting the engine and driving off almost in a trance, with a luggage and two bags resting next to her, slowly getting wet, and the more she was breathing in the different air than she was used to, the more despair she felt.

She was not ready for this.

***

She knew Ferelden was cold and smelled like wet dogs, it was a common knowledge, similar to the fact everybody in Orlais was pompous and had a mask fetish. The Ferelden reputation also consisted of a belief that about everyone living in this country had at least one dog at home, in the garden, around the house or a tiny flat. It was a must when you were a Fereldan and she couldn’t shake the feeling that her neighbours were eying her with suspicion every time she passed them during the moving in, while they were walking their own dog (a goddamn huge dog on top of that – its barking sounded like a thunderstorm coming).

The first hour in her new home was atrocious. The heating in her attic flat didn’t work because the heaters were full of air, water had been rather yellow at first thanks to old pipes and there was a wet spot forming on the ceiling in the right corner of her living room. The flat was dirty and dusty, apparently nobody had the need to clean it up a little for the new tenant, and when she walked in, an evident smell of staleness hit her like a fist.

She tried very hard to ignore the pitying looks movers were giving her while pulling up all the furniture and boxes, probably thinking she was scammed into taking this place to live in. But really, the photos were fine, she got promised the flat was renovated – and, well, it didn’t look old or anything, there were plastic windows and the kitchen definitely had to be new (and dusted). She actually liked the bathroom; it had a big bathtub and made her feel warmer thanks to the yellow-orange-red colouring. It just didn’t feel like somebody lived here for a long time – or they did and they made it look like shit.

She planned everything she needed to do in very near future to make the place more habitable and made another list that consisted of buying cleaning products and scented candles or at least oils and aroma lamps to get the terrible smell out of here. It reminded her of a secondhand shops full of clothes that smelled like somebody died in them, staleness and dirt clinging to it, and despite the cold it made her open the windows to full blast to get some fresh air in.

She kept on fretting over the place the whole time while the movers were working, the stress dropping off her under the onslaught of duties that kept on piling up, and it made her kind of relieved, since the helplessness almost crushed her for a moment. She unpacked some necessary things when she found the right box with it and even scrubbed part of the bathroom clean so she wouldn’t feel opposed to at least wash her hands or go to the toilet.

It wasn’t bad. She could make it work, she thought, while finally smiling at the movers when they announced they were done and she was giving them money. It was fine – she was fine.

Well, until the movers left.

When the door closed and she found herself alone again in the midst of boxes and wrapped up furniture like Christmas presents while the cold was sweeping through the windows unmercifully, she realized one thing.

She was alone.

There was a leaky ceiling. Rusty pipes. Non-functional heaters. Smelly rooms. Dirt everywhere. And she couldn’t call anyone she knew to help, because there was no one around. She was so, so alone. She could hear her mother’s I told you so in her head as if she was standing next to her, and there was this foolish thought of calling the movers again to pack the things and get her back home.

She had to sit down on the bubble-wrapped sofa and remained that way for half an hour, breathing in and out the weird air around her while trying to calm down her nerves. It didn’t really work. She held her phone in her hand, ready to dial the company number, and there was just something really small screaming at her not to.

Probably my shattered pride, she thought bitterly. If she returned after all these months of bragging how independent she was going to be, how she didn’t need them to fret over her anymore, how she could deal with life like a proper human being, it would only prove their point.

She didn’t want that. It was just a moment of weakness, a shock, she told herself. If the flat was nice and cosy, she wouldn’t be this devastated, she knew it. It wasn’t even that bad, just… needed a bit of adjusting.

She took another long, deep breath and got back up. Her phone was burning in her hand and she put it away, just in case, out of reach. The clock was already showing something past seven in the evening and she knew there was no point in leaving the flat right now. So she unpacked only those things she needed for sleeping (dragged the bed where she needed it, pulled out her blanket and pillows and put on clean sheets and then only pushed other stuff out of the way so she wouldn’t kill herself on a trip to the bathroom during the night) and then curled up on the mattress, took a laptop and tried not to think of anything.

“Oh thank god, there really is a wi-fi as promised,” she breathed out in relief when the network worked when she put in the password she got from the owner. Several e-mails popped up at her immediately, new work related and from friends inquiring how her new home was, and she wondered if she really was going to be alright here.

Sender: <GayLord>

Subject: Loser!

Hey Trevelyan! Heard you quitted LoL, loser! Got tired of Platinum? Anyway – I’ve found something more sissy for you to keep your free time occupied, interested? Well, of course you are, what an irrelevant question. Try Dragon Age! It’s not rly like LoL, but since you kept on whining about needing a story, you can cry about this one. It’s pretty new and I like it so far, so either join up or we are not friends anymore. Lol jk, add me as Kirk_Champ there, k? Inquisition server. Cuz nobody expect the Spanish Inquisition.

Cheers, Hawke

“Oh my god, Hawke…” she pinched the bridge of her nose while re-reading the e-mail with a cringe. She quitted League of Legends because she was moving, getting a new job and seriously thought she was going to change her lifestyle, finally. The game was eating so much of her free time it made her parents mouthy - but nope, here was Hawke, dragging her into another game she was probably going to love to death, because quite frankly she and Hawke had pretty similar tastes in games and it was an unshakable fact, so she didn’t even try to fight it.

“Maybe I need it… for a while,” she looked around the messy place and bit down her lower lip. Another addiction versus insanely rough reality? An easy choice.

She clicked the link Hawke sent her and let the game download in the background while going through the rest of her e-mails.

***

“So not only that you moved to another country, you also decided we have to assume you’re dead?!”

“Hi mum,” she sighed into her phone and cringed when her mother’s voice got even louder. “I’m sorry, I was busy unpacking.”

Unpacking the game and creating a character while my flat still looks like a bomb exploded here.

She picked a human race, probably out of habit – she rarely started with a different race in any MMO she had ever played, so she was able to understand the rest and then maybe start with another. Out of the race options human seemed the most normal choice anyway - elves seemed super thin, especially females, that wind would break them in half. Dwarves were never her forte in any game and a race called Qunari was… intimidating and huge. Although she kind of liked that, just not really something she would want to play as. The hairstyle option sucked though, there was not a single long hair one, probably to avoid clipping with the armour.

“I don’t know why you bother, just buy a dog and that’s all you need in that blighted Ferelden,” her mum didn’t disappoint and Evelyn rolled her eyes while watching the game unfolding. The graphic side of it looked awesome. It had a nice, thorough customization (apart from the hair choices, obviously), apparently several initial story options – it reminded her of Guild Wars 2 – and complex class/job system. Her human had two choices of the starting background, where one was a noble and other more of a working class, and it apparently changed with the class she picked too. Every other race had their own perks and starting areas – it made sense why Hawke liked it, as much as he was fine with story-free killing for fun; he was also a slut for complex lore and mysterious storylines. This game seemed to have both and she made a mental note to get back to it once she would have more time.

“Not everyone has a dog here,” she protested. At least she didn’t have one, that also counted.

“Philliam said the house was a disaster!” another rant and Evelyn groaned. Of course Philliam couldn’t keep that to himself. Definitely didn’t tell her how he ran away as a frightened chicken, did he.

Wait, was she already in the game for this long that Phililam made it home? She quickly glanced at the time on her notebook and pinched the bridge of her nose. It was already ten, of course he did.

“The house is alright,” she lied. “It just looks shabby from the outside. The flat is renovated and everything, it’s fine.”

Well, it wasn’t a complete lie – the flat was renovated. Just dirty. And half functional.

“Send me a photo of that fine flat,” her mother didn’t disappoint and Eve glanced around, cringing a little. If she sent a picture of this, her mum would probably hire somebody to kidnap Evelyn and bring her back home right that moment.

“After all is unpacked,” she told her resolutely. Her mother didn’t have any power over her now, no matter how much she raised her voice. It was Eve’s place, Eve’s home and she ruled here. Even though she always had a deep respect of her mother’s strict nature, she moved to be free of the influence – and not just hers, but the whole Trevelyan family. No chance she was going to give in at the first sign of trouble and the raised tone her mum used.

“You said you were already unpacking,” another jab landed and Evelyn frowned – more at the screen than what her mother just said. The game wasn’t overly difficult or anything, but she paid only half of her attention to it and apparently picked an option that changed the storyline a bit too drastically. Since started up as a mage and her story began in a Circle of Magi, the sudden explosion of a temple she got in when the story led her to it and demons being spewed all around while her character was frantically trying to get away until the screen went black, was a little frightening.

“I was, but I’m not done yet,” she responded back while trying to read the text that appeared on the screen. “Naturally.”

“So what have you been doing all this time?” of course she would ask. “Losing time on your notebook I assume?”

“Mum, stop trying to guilt-trip me,” she grumbled into the phone. She gave up the reading and just clicked yes. It apparently meant joining a mercenary group or something, which was not exactly the fairest choice of them all. “I’ll send you a photo after it’s presentable, deal?”

“With your sense of tidiness it translates to never,” the older woman sighed. “You’ve made a mistake. I’m sure you know it by now. You can still come back, I’m sure your father would be happy as well.”

A little part of her probably wanted to – even though playing the game lifted her mind from the worry with a successful rate. But being reminded of it stung a little, almost making her say yes, bow down to the Trevelyan influence and come back. It would be easier, right?

“You must know very well you can’t take care of yourself,” her mum continued sternly. “You don’t even know how to wash your clothes so it won’t get shrunk, or how to cook a proper meal!”

The hell I don’t!

“I’m not coming back, mother,” she gritted her teeth. At least she made it easier. “Tell Philliam he’s a chicken wuss. I’m going to sleep now.”

“Evelyn-!”

She ended the call abruptly and tossed the phone next to her on the blanket. This was what she needed – to be reminded why she left them.

Self-centred pricks.

***

Eve wasn’t surprised when she found out Hawke was still in-game when she could finally add his nickname and write to him. The game kept her from the rest of the community until the story picked up even more speed and she could find herself in a strange village where her title changed to Herald, probably thanks to the pick she made while her mother called. She wasn’t entirely sure what happened, except that she was excluded from the Chantry, like a heathen, because the storyline led her into a temple where shit broke loose and she survived. It almost seemed like she had been a villain. Because of the temple, her left hand was glowing venomous green but she had no idea what it meant.

Thanks mum.

[Whisper][Kirk_Champ]: oh god no you just HAD TO pick the lamest sub class everrrrrr >.>

[Whisper][Rosecult]: What do you mean, lamest? My hand glows, it’s original!

[Whisper][Kirk_Champ]: sure it is cuz it glows with all the LAME

[Whisper][Rosecult]: shut up, I’m in distress. I haven’t paid attention to the storyline when my mother called, so now I’m Herald and that’s about it.

[Whisper][Kirk_Champ]: enjoy being disliked pretty girl. herald is like saying OH IM A NOOB THE HAND GLOWED I THINK ITS PRETTY while it means you can do shit except maybe a nice addition to party disco lights while the rest of your squad is getting eaten by demons yayayayay SO NOT IN A SQUAD WITH YOU

[Whisper][Rosecult]: You’re an asshat.

[Whisper][Kirk_Champ]: go make a new character xD

[Whisper][Rosecult]: NO! ALL THE GLOWY! I’M GOING TO GLOW MY WAY TO VICTORY!

[Whisper][Kirk_Champ]: no wonder you quitted LoL………… loser xD

She snorted and ignored his threats altogether. Well, the Herald seemed weak, kind of, and slightly repressed with all the Chantry antipathy against her, but she always loved challenges – especially when they came from Hawke. It was enough she beat him in LoL, getting to Platinum before he made it. She earned no life label, but she won anyway.

She was going to keep this character and win with it, no matter the obstacles.

***

She considered changing her mind another hour into the game later where she found out there was PvP implemented and being against the Chantry earned her a prey title for some other classes. Especially the heavy armoured classes really liked to kick her ass.

[Whisper][Rosecult]: There is forced PvP?

[Whisper][Kirk_Champ]: for herald yeah xD jk, there are just classes that don’t bode well with the other so yeah there is pvp. templars don’t like enchanters, seekers don’t like heralds, spies are generally taken as a threat once they use certain skills, champs don’t fancy templars and enchanters in overall

[Whisper][Rosecult]: how do they even form squads then? There is like… squad only from Templars and Seekers or…?

[Whisper][Kirk_Champ]: nah squad is alright like a safe zone. also alliances work – like guilds there are treaties and mutual trust so you can’t kill your alliance mate. or maybe you can but you know – consequences and shit

[Whisper][Rosecult]: I see.

[Whisper][Kirk_Champ]: hunted I assume? xD

[Whisper][Rosecult]: Yeah, there is one Seeker that keeps on coming at me, like, literally camping me, I can do anything as long as he’s there.

It was slightly annoying to be this cut off. A Truth_Seeker player apparently noticed her during her quests in the mountains, and to Evelyn’s dismay she couldn’t do much against him, especially when she was a mage and Seekers apparently could deal with her kind fast and easy. She still was able to delude some Templars before, but this concrete Seeker had been relentless and apparently really skilled. Probably higher level as well.

If the game hadn’t been so fun, Eve would turn it off and let her hunter lose interest overnight. But it was only midnight and she felt the well-known excitement in her that wouldn’t let her sleep anyway. So she waited, then tried to go out from the safe zone, just to be killed again, and waited some more. She noticed this certain Seeker had been aiming only at her during the past half an hour – other mages were free to go. Well, maybe because they weren’t Heralds, she assumed.

[Whisper][Rosecult]: Look, I’m new to the game, can you let me pass? You’ve killed me like ten times already, don’t tell me it’s still fun for you.

She sent the whisper and didn’t get any negative system message that she couldn’t send it to an opposite factions, so she assumed the Seeker got it. She watched her enemy pace a little in front of the safe line and then stop.

[Whisper][Truth_Seeker]: not really fun, no.

“Cool, then why are you still doing it?” Eve shook her head and re-seated a little to get more comfortable.

[Whisper][Rosecult]: So you can let me go? It’s not like I’m hunting other Seekers or anything.

[Whisper][Truth_Seeker]: I’m just wondering how patient you are. People normally log off when somebody is camping them.

[Whisper][Rosecult]: I told you. I’m new, I like the game, I want to play.

[Whisper][Truth_Seeker]: then I have to inform you that you’ve picked a wrong character. As a Seeker you’re my prey.

“Oh great, a nerd,” she sighed and looked at the clock again. It was half past midnight, still not that late for her to go to sleep. The easiest way would be making a new character and start again with something stronger and less hunted – but then Hawke would win and laugh at her.

[Whisper][Rosecult]: How fun is the Seeker?

She decided to start a talk if nothing else. It often made people less careful, so maybe she would be able to slip past him at some point.

The Seeker stood still again, as if he was watching her through the eyes of the toon, and the idle animation made the character cross his arms on his chest and tilt his hips. A woman then, judging from the posture – she couldn’t really tell with all the heavy armour on.

No answer came and Eve wondered if the player had been AFK, so she tried her luck – only to be killed again in a swift flurry of blows.

“Okay, just don’t want to talk then,” she got the memo and respawned again. The Seeker remained on her spot, sheathing the sword, and continued to guard the line like a watch dog.

[Whisper][Kirk_Champ]: you know why are you so hunted? rarely ANYONE plays the herald xD you’re like an unicorn!

[Whisper][Rosecult]: Must be why the Seeker called a friend here. Now there is a Seeker AND a Spy. Both waiting for me to come out.

It was an archer and Evelyn was pretty sure the Seeker called her here as well, since they both stood there, waiting for her to come out. The archer even menacingly flexed her bow several times and aimed it at her behind the safe zone, like she was daring her.

[Whisper][Kirk_Champ]: just give up princess. make a normal character. or find a very good alliance that would protect you.

“An alliance?” she watched her two hunters with a raised eyebrow and couldn’t overlook the fact they both had the same sign on the armour. The same alliance then. She didn’t even look up how the guild system worked in this game, this was a good chance to do so.

[Whisper][Rosecult]: Do you have a Herald in your alliance?

It wasn’t like she expected the Seeker to answer, but it was worth a shot, wasn’t it?

[Whisper][Rosecult]: I’m sure there are some bonus points for having one, right? Plus I’m a mage, I can heal and all.

[Whisper][Nightingale]: Are you asking us if we will take you into our alliance?

She blinked in surprise, seeing a different name in the chat log all of sudden, before realizing the Spy next to the Seeker had that name. She didn’t hesitate with the response – she didn’t have much to lose anyway. Either they would take her or not. If not, she would just go to sleep and hopefully they wouldn’t camp there the whole night.

[Whisper][Rosecult]: Yes?

[Whisper][Nightingale]: And what can you offer?

[Whisper][Rosecult]: Magic stuff, I suppose. Some novelty? Jokes? Obsessive need to play for days straight?

[Whisper][Nightingale]: A hardcore player?

[Whisper][Rosecult]: Sort of.

[Whisper][Nightingale]: Age?

[Whisper][Rosecult]: Is that relevant?

[Whisper][Nightingale]: Very much so. Our alliance is not big, but we are growing. You must understand having Herald in it makes the approval of the Chantry drops immeasurably, and we don’t want to risk not getting it back for a ten years old brat.

[Whisper][Rosecult]: Fair enough. I’m 24.

[Whisper][Nightingale]: Working?

[Whisper][Rosecult]: Yes.

The chat didn’t change until then and Eve stared at the two unmoving forms in front of her with raised eyebrows. The alliance sounded full of adults, which seemed promising. She had the pleasure of playing with kids, and it usually made her lose the temper, especially when they were spoiled brats that have plenty of time to bother you during the day and night. Some were alright, of course, but the experience with 12 years olds grew painful over time.

When the silence lasted for a bit too long, she started typing another inquiry and pressed enter, but nothing happened.

“Huh?” she tried to press any skill, but the game remained frozen solid. “Oh no.”

A DISCONNECTED message flew over the screen and everything turned black.

“Nooooo…”

She scrambled to reboot it, but one look to the right low corner told her it was no use. The wi-fi signal died.