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Diary of a DLC Companion

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This is your second and final chance, Mayara- don’t fuck it up this time. You’re welcome for the Internet connection, by the way.

I regained my senses and the only thing I could think was ‘Shit, that hurt’. I don’t know what hurt or even how it started hurting, I only know it hurts. Not a very precise way of describing, but there you go. Where am I? What happened? I feel like I’ve been run over by a horde of horses on steroids.

I groaned loudly, feeling a weird and sharp pain in the back of my head. I opened my eyes only to be greeted with the bright sun frying my eyes. Shielding them with the back of my hand, I told myself to seat up. It took a while to sit up, because I was pretty disoriented.

I was sitting down in some pretty uncomfortable rocky floor, and when my eyes adjusted to the lighting, I realized I was in the middle of a dark, gloomy wasteland. I couldn’t see anything in the horizon except the dark dirt floor, fallen rocks and smoke.

I’m confused.

So many things went on inside my head, yet so clear, I had doubts on what was real and what was not. Something in the back of my head told me I was not dreaming. But if this isn’t a weird dream, what is it?

I touched the floor with my hands and gathered some dirt with them. The dark dirt felt rough against my skin. I’m having too much control over myself.

What happened, though?

I remember a shady deal, a man, and falling but nothing else.

“Puta que pariu…{literally 'the whore who gave birth' but can be translated as 'holy shit'}” I cursed. I’m dead, or this is a weird dream, mainly because I rarely dream, and when I do, it’s this weird sequence in which I’m a hostage in Atlantis with a bunch of dolphins and Gordon Ramsay for some reason. I couldn’t see any dolphins, though, and unfortunately not Gordon. I take it’s a good sign.

However, I’m pretty much in control of what I’m doing for it to be a dream. What was it called? Lucid dreaming? I don’t know.

So, the only other logical explanation would be that I died and this place must be Satan’s realm. Literal fucking Hell. Sure looks like it. Where’s my boi Satan with the welcome party? I deserve nothing less than a party to celebrate me coming home. Really, I didn’t laugh at all those dark humor jokes for nothing. I always thought I’d have a place lined up for me in Hell, and that would be the throne.

I’m dead, and my first act as a dead soul in Hell is looking for Satan for instructions for my eternal suffering. Doesn’t look all that bad- this wasteland, I mean- math class was much more like ‘eternal suffering’ than this shitty place.

Where are all the lava pits and fire, people screaming and all the sort? Wasn’t that what Hell was supposed to be about? Yet I don’t see anything other than space. Shabby.

I tried to stand up and hopefully make some sense of this stupid situation, but for some reason my legs felt like jelly. Thankfully, I could find my balance and not fall down flat in my butt.

However, upon standing up, I noticed I was wearing my pink flip-flops. And not only that, I also wore nothing but my grey pajamas with Minion print I don’t remember putting on… Better yet, I don’t even remember owning such clothing. I hate Minions with all my heart.


I dead? Maybe? And if did I not only die in the best clothing possible, but in the best footwear for a trip to Hell. Fantastic. I noticed my phone was inside my left pocket in my pajama pants, and that was something. Can’t go to hell without my phone, yeah? I have to take selfies with the devil and post them on Hellbook, Devilgram and Snapchatan. “Você só pode estar de brincadeira comigo…{You've got to be kidding me}

I look around, shielding my eyes from the bright light and I noticed there was a foul stench in the air. I could recognize smoke in the air, but not much else. There was another noticeable smell I couldn’t recognize, but it smelled dead somehow. Anyway, I spotted a worn out path in the dirt, leading to a sort of hill area. I don’t have any other good leads so I might as well explore a bit until I find someone.

I cupped my hand around my mouth in order to amplify the sound, “Oi? Tem alguem ai? Satanás? {Hello? Is someone there? Satan?}” There were many loose and pointy rocks in the path, probably best if I don’t step on them with my flip-flops, can’t go around my new home with ugly feet. Squinting my eyes a bit, I saw a rather odd assortment of what I assumed were people, far in the distance. Halfway to the top of the hill.

My eyesight is kinda shitty for long distances which means I couldn’t see very well, so the people’s details were blurry- if the silhouettes are even people. Maybe they will know where I am, though! “Heeeeyyyyy!!! Vocês ai!! {Heeeeeyyyy! You there!!!}” I called out, waving my arms in hopes to call their attention. I hate calling attention to myself, especially in places I shouldn’t be, but that was my only option to find what the hell is going on.

The people suddenly stopped upon hearing my call and I could distinguish a tall man as he took a step towards my direction.

My heart skipped a beat as I wondered what the man would do. Would he drag me by the hair and take me to my final resting place? Would he sing obnoxious K-Pop music until the end of time? Who knows?

“Ei! Ajuda aqui, tio! {Hey! Help me out here, dude!}” I called out, a bit louder this time, taking a few steps closer to the group, waving my arms frantically. They didn’t look like denizens of Hell from where I was standing, however. But I don’t give too much credit to my shitty eyesight. Their spiky tails and horns could still be there.

“Look out! Behind you!” The man shouted at me. I noticed he shouted in English. Not my native language, but I’m decent at it, at least. I’m not surprised the language of hell is English…I mean, look at the United States. I understood what the man said, and turned around-

-only to find a fucking horde of skeleton things with weapons screeching like a ruined disk, just some two hundred meters from me or so. I stood there motionless for a few seconds, with an eyebrow risen, wondering, until the things started chasing me. Holy shit I’m not waiting around for those shits to get me. “Ai caralho! {literally 'oh dick' but can be more accurately translated as 'oh shit'}

“RUN!” Someone shouted.

Bitch, don’t need to tell me twice!

I ran with all I had and as fast as I possibly could while with flip-flops. I’m surprised at how fast one can run while being chased by hellish things.

My feet didn’t move as fast as I wanted them to, and at every step I took my flip-flops gathered tiny pebbles inside them, cutting and scratching all over my pretty feet.

Ignoring the sharp pains in my feet, I ran screaming towards the group, looking back at my shoulder every second to seeing if I was running fast enough and keeping enough distance from those things.

Flip-flops are utter shit for running, and I don’t recommend them at all. Why do I say that? Because even in dream-land I can trip over myself and fall down into the dirt. Which was exactly what happened.

No matter, for I scrambled up and kept running, ignoring everything wrong with my body.

The people now were closer and therefore less blurry. My eyes adjusted and I could distinguish them.

The tall man from before had ran towards me, wielding what I assumed were daggers- accompanied by three other individuals running behind him. He became clear in my view as I approached him and he did me, and I realized knew his face. An all too familiar face- amber eyes, short black hair, spiky looking beard that needed some trimming… it was a face I’d seen so many times.

Hawke. Default male Hawke. He looked handsome, even- something I did not think while playing the game. To me, Default M!Hawke was bland as fuck, while F!Hawke was pretty.

So, if that’s Hawke…the others must be Carver and Bethany, and then Aveline- of course.

Damn, Satan, the graphics you created are amazing. I applaud you, truly. And the way you came up with my personal purgatory was pretty creative, kudos for you.

That was not something supposed to happen if I died, right? So I must be having some kind of Dragon Age-related dream. Not a surprising occurrence due to the insane amount of hours I’ve spent on that fucking franchise, but wouldn’t it make more sense if it were Dragon Age Origins? I had been going through my 7th play through with a Dwarf Noble… I don’t get it. Maybe my alarm will go off soon?

Despite all that, I knew now where this was supposed to be in this dream. I’d played through this scene too many times not to recognize it now. Ferelden. But not normal, simple Ferelden (of course not, why would it), I was in the middle of the fucking Blight.

Which would make those things behind me…


I suddenly stopped walking, figuring out I didn’t need to move an inch more because nothing could really harm me in my own dream. I was surprised, yet in shock at the same time.

I stood there motionless as the four individuals ran past me- not even stopping for a second, Carver almost bumping into me- and into the horde of darkspawn almost catching up with us.

I gave up running altogether, close to the two remaining people atop of it, which I assumed were Leandra and Wesley, Aveline’s husband, since both twins and the Templar were still alive meant Flemeth hadn’t shown up yet. If she ever will, that is, because I honestly have no idea about what is going on here anymore.

Are those dream-people even following the game script? Hard to tell, really. I for one am not waiting around to see if they are.

The sound of steel in steel, and magic in flesh were agonizing. I don’t remember dreams being so unpleasant, however.

Trembling a bit, I took out my phone from my pocket and observed there was signal available as well as data, for some reason? It’s probably weird dream shit.

I used my phone to check my SimCity town, because why the Hell not? I’m going to wake up at any time now, and it’s not like I can feel that much. I’m actually pretty invested in that game not to open the app in the middle of a dream. Fucking EA finding their way into my subconscious is probably a marketing tactic.

I wonder when they’ll start charging for micro-transactions inside my dreams.

I opened my game and managed my city like I normally would. Building new edifications and whatnot.

I managed even to ignore the very loud cries of battle over the other side of the wasteland. Kudos for me.

Distracted by my phone and oblivious to everything else, I didn’t quite notice as Dream-Hawke and Co. came close to me after killing all the horde of darkspawn. I had forgotten how Hawke was a freaking tank.

“That’s an interesting outfit choice,” 

I let out a nervous chuckle, turning on my heel, “Excuse me, sir, but Minions are the latest fashion.”

Chapter Text

Distracted by my phone and oblivious to everything else, I didn’t quite notice as Dream-Hawke and Co. came close to me after killing all the horde of darkspawn. I had forgotten how Hawke was a freaking tank.

“That’s an interesting outfit choice,” 

I let out a nervous chuckle, turning on my heel, “Excuse me, sir, but Minions are the latest fashion.”

There stood a smiling Hawke in all his magnificent splendor. He was pretty detailed, I could even see the tiny sprinkles of blood around his face. His amber eyes and spiky weird beard were pretty distracting. Oh, and his daggers- great, my Dream Hawke is a rogue- it's actually cute when Hawke's a rogue, because that way each of the Hawke siblings has a different class. Behind him were his siblings and Aveline, all looked puzzled, unlike Hawke, who looked pretty amused. Behind them still, there was a literal pile of corpses being sniffed around by the family's faithful Mabari. The dog was almost as tall as my elbow. Fucking hell, I had no idea those dogs were so huge (or that I was so small).

The smell of blood and burnt flesh were sickening and I had some bile coming up to my mouth and a strange urge to vomit. I managed to contain myself, swallowing hard the acid liquid. I mean, who do you think I am to vomit in a dream?

This dream is pretty rad so far, it even has smells. This is legit 5D stuff. I'd give myself a 7/10 overall, for the details and for the atmosphere. I'd very much prefer to be dreaming during Dragon Age Inquisition so I could have some Commander ass, but whatever, take what you can get I guess. At least my version of Dream Hawke is cute.

Carver grunted, putting away his massive Final Fantasy sword, "Come on, Brother, we can't pick up everyone who crosses our path." Amazing how Hawke's warrior sibling can still be a massive dick even in one of my weird dreams. 

Why are they speaking English? Isn't this supposed to be, I don't know, my dream? Normally people in my dreams, regardless of origin, speak my native language, Portuguese. This is definitely weird, but there's no actual harm in that, since I'm pretty decent at speaking and understanding it, due to the fact that if you want to be anyone in the lawless wasteland that is Brazil, one needs to speak English. True enough, being an opera singer of all things, one would expect I spoke Italian, German and French as well, but bitch ain't nobody got time for that.

Hawke let out an overdramatic hurt sigh, "What about chivalry? Don't tell me you wouldn't want to rescue the pretty damsel in distress!"

Oh my God, Hawke is Purple. This dream just gets better. Imagine having to cope with Red Hawke? Plus, if Hawke is a rogue and we're currently in the outskirts of Lothering, that means Carver won't make it. That's also great. Not that I expect this dream to last long enough until I meet the God of this game series, which is Varric, by the way.

"That's not the point-" Carver started, again, but I cut him off. Gosh do I hate that fuckboi.

"So, this is a dream." I suddenly announced, locking my phone and putting it inside my pocket, "You are not real." I pointed at the four people, "This place is not real." I gestured everything around us, "Nothing here is real. How do I know that? Because you are all from a game. I know this cutscene all too well. I'm going to wake up any second now, so if you would be so kind as to excuse me while I pinch myself." 

I grabbed a tiny patch of skin in the back of my hand and squeezed it really hard, softly closing my eyes in the process. That hurt. I blinked them open, but Hawke, his siblings and Aveline were still there, eyeing me like was being the weird one.

I started laughing nervously. This is not supposed to happen. I'm supposed to wake up. Pinching usually did the trick for me. WhAt Is EvEn HaPpEnNiNg? This is starting to get out of control. I need to wake up as soon as I possibly can.

I tried slapping myself in the face- right across my left cheek. Owww...That hurt like SHIT. Still not waking up----- wait, wait, in no time I'll be waking up to my alarm, drenched in sweat, so I can get ready for singing practice at college. Yes, breathe, Mayara, everything will be fine. Just play along for the meantime.

Aveline in particular raised a ginger eyebrow at me hitting myself. She looked like she was about to literally drag me out of there right into an asylum for the mentally insane.

"Are you...alright?" Hawke's mage sister Bethany asked, clearly weirded out by my clear insane display of confusion. Same. I'd be confused too if I was a weird dream manifestation of my imagination and some odd girl wearing Minion pajamas slapped herself in the face.

I rubbed my cheek to help ease the pain, "Is anyone ever alright?" I smirked, after taking my messy brown bangs out of my face- they more often than not kept falling in front of my eyes, ahhh what won't I do for aesthetics. True enough. I might be dreaming but my mind is clear as day regarding my dark humor. At least I'm cool™ in my dreams.

"Good point." Hawke acknowledged. I'm beginning to like this dream version of rogue Hawke. He seems super rad.

"Let's go," Carver frowned, "She's clearly insane." He turned around but he was the only one who did. Serves you right prissy boy. 

"I've been called many things back in the day, but insane is new."  I felt mildly offended by that. By all means, I'm not the sanest person around, "Oh no, my mistake, there was this one time my parents called me insane for deciding to become a singer." That was true. I was basically alone ever since I decided I would follow my dreams. It wasn't by all means easy, but I was accepted into public University (because mother and father refused to pay for any singing course- they'd only pay if I wanted to be a doctor) and I am confident in my abilities. I'd be lying if I said I was all without support, because my grandparents were the only ones supporting me through and through- they were the only ones who actually showed up to my recitals.

Enough self-pity. This is a good dream (so far, at least. I wonder when it will turn sour like everything else in my life), and I won't spoil it with my sad backstory™.

The ginger haired woman looked pretty surprised, "You're a singer?" Why does everyone find that unusual? Singers are pretty, and I sure am pretty, smart, funny and an overall amazing person with an amazing personality, why can't I be a singer too? Geez. 

"Not a simple singer like most simpletons, I'm a performer of the highest form of singing- I'm an opera singer." I threw some of my hair to my back in order to create drama. This is my dream, I can do whatever I want.

"Do you know a song that can shoo Darkspawn?" Hawke's humor is still spot on, even in my dream. "Can you teach me?" I bit my lip trying not to laugh and his sister snickered cutely. 

"No, but I can sing 'Der Hölle Rache'." Lie, lie, lie. I still can't sing that one properly. The high notes are quite tricky. My teacher keeps insisting that song is not for me, and that I won't ever be the Queen of the Night, but what does he know? I'm the best at what I do. As soon as I complete my studies at University, I'll definitely conquer the stages worldwide and be invited to sing with Andrea Bocelli in Vienna. Plus, it's not like the dream-people would want to know about that, "I could maybe teach you that one, but it's best suited for a soprano like myself, Hawke." 

The second I uttered the name 'Hawke', it looked like I had fucking said it was okay to murder children. Bethany was exceptionally mortified, however her older brother took a while to catch on.

The man eyed me for a second, before frowning his eyebrows suddenly, as if he had just discovered the sky is blue, "Wait, how do you know my name?"

"I thought everyone knew who you were? You're Hawke, those are your siblings Bethany and Carver, this one here is Aveline, and the two back there are Leandra and Wesley- " I started, but was unable to finish my line of thought because the little party was starting at me like I was being the crazy one in my own dream. Speaking of which, I should really wake up, before this gets even more weird. Wake up, wake up! Where is the dream nerd from Inquisition when I need him to land a hand? Come the fuck on, Mayara, make something up- anything! "Why are you looking at me like that? Oh, you guys, I...ughh...simply know you from... Lothering." I chuckled falsely, giving the impression of confidence. You know, one of the perks of being a performer is my ability to improvise, "Yes, Lothering. Before the Blight, of course. I had been staying there for a couple of weeks before heading to Orlais I'm originally from Antiva, you see." I randomly spouted names of places I could remember on the spot. Although I don't think it's unnecessary to mention that I always thought my name sounded Antivan, as well as my accent.

I'm very proud of myself for coming up with all that while dreaming and in another language to boot. Actually, it would've been more fun if I said I was a princess or something. I like to be worshiped.

"Funny, I don't remember ever seeing you there." Bethany observed. Oh boo hoo, dream-people are now confused about me. I wonder, however, when will I gaze down and notice I have no clothes on? It's taking a while.

I waved a hand, casually, "I don't really like people." Not entirely a lie.

"Really? We have so much in common already!" Hawke commented. 

Carver rolled his eyes, "Garrett." Default Hawke name? I wasn't expecting that due to my compulsive need to name my Hawkes things like 'Assfarts' or 'Tunak Tunak Tun'. 

"What? I'm just trying to say that excludes the drama of introducing ourselves, since our new friend apparently already knows who we are...?" 

"You dream people are weird. If you want to know my name, all you need is ask!" I caught on, he wanted to know my name, and I am happy to oblige, "Hi my name is Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way and I have long ebony black hair (that's how I got my name)-" 

Bethany looked confused, as she interrupted, "But your hair is brown?"

You bitches thought I'd waste a perfect opportunity to quote the most amazing fanfic in the history of ever? Alright it's past the time for in-dream jokes. 

"I prefer 'chocolate brown', it gives a more distinctive touch," I commented, "But yeah, you got me" I made finger guns at her, "I wish I was Ebony- well, no, the fanfic was too creepy anyway...I suppose I’ll introduce myself: I'm Mayara Antonella Rosso Rossi- soon-to-be the world's greatest soprano with slight superiority complex, at your service." I replied, accentuating my name in all the right places and doing a small curtsy. I've always wanted to do that in real life, but this will have to do, I guess. I'm super proud of being able to say my name in one breath, by the way.

I thought it wouldn't be there much of a big deal to tell random dream people my name. Sure, stranger danger and all but I'm dreaming, so what's the harm?

The rogue patted my back for some reason, "With that out of the way, we should keep moving. The Blight won't outrun itself." 

My eyes widened in surprise. Did Dream-Hawke invite me to flee Lothering with them? I'm honored. "Wait, you want me to come with you?"

"Well, yes," The black haired rogue replied, "Singers aren't notorious for their ability to kill Darkspawn, after all."

"About time we left," Aveline observed, clearly annoyed that we wasted so much dream-time with pleasantries, "The horde won't wait for us much longer- let's get your mother and Wesley and go south." 

"Summer! With us, old boy!" Hawke called, to his hound- I assumed, at first. I was certain it was his hound Hawke had called because the animal ran back to its owner on the spot. Summer is such a cute name for a dog, I love it. Actually, one of my Hawkes at some point had a dog named Summer, during my Game of Thrones phase.

"Aren't you coming?"

"Yeah, yeah, in a sec," I was distracted by the doggy, and how cute it was and the way its little feet went all like 'tap tap tap' and I didn't even notice when the three siblings and their warrior companion made their way uphill, towards the spot where an injured Wesley and a scared Leandra waited. 

I didn't follow at first, since I thought it would be a good idea to snap some cute pictures of Hawke's dog from a distance, and when I noticed, the gang was already in the plateau where they would meet Flemeth and Carver would- oh shit. "Wait for me!!"

I know I said I was relieved Hawke was a rogue so that fuckboi wouldn't make it but...well, this makes me sound heartless. Not that I'm miss sunshine by all means, but that just sounds...wrong, I guess.

I ran as fast as my flip-flops allowed me, my long black braid swinging in my back, also annoyed at the fact that my bangs kept disrupting my sight, "Don't touch the ogre, Carver-!!!!" 

"You soulless bastards!!" I heard the warrior's voice.

I eventually got to where the action was happening- right in time to watch the big ass ogre turn up and grab the young man- like he was as light as a feather-, and proceed to bash his head into the hard rocky floor. 

I watched with my eyes widened in horror as Carver's head tore open by the sheer brutality of the thrushes- the young man's blood and other things were flying everywhere, even splashing some into me. Into my Minion print pjs.

The monster, after tearing apart the warrior's head to the point I couldn't even recognize it, then threw Carver's limp body away, leaving behind a trail of fresh blood on the floor. 

10/10 graphics. Better than most games out there to be honest. I guess all the times I played games did something to my imagination. "Mano do céu... {literally 'dude of the sky' but can be translated as 'oh my God'. What are you looking at me like that? We actually do say that in real life!!}" I'll admit I was a bit grossed out by the entire event.

"CARVER!" Leandra's familiar scream I had heard countless times somehow hurt me even more this time in my dream. The scream felt heart wrenching. I have no clue why that is, however.

The woman ran to her dead son, and the ogre for some reason directed its gaze to me. There was blood dripping from its hands, and some vile looking liquid coming from its mouth full of decaying sharp teeth.

I gulped and just stared right back at it. Should I run? Should I fight? Should I shit my pants and cry? A legitimately scary dream, this.

Involuntarily, I started trembling like a goddamn leaf, and everything else seemed to have stopped around me. This isn't normal, one doesn't tremble while dreaming, right? I assumed it was my mind regaining its control over my dream, which usually happens when I'm about to wake up. I'm half expecting to wake up drenched in sweat after all this.

Either way, I'm waking up shortly, so I needn't worry. Which means I shouldn't worry about the ogre charging up to me-

I heard Hawke yelling something at me, but I could only see the big ass ogre chasing towards me. I told myself to keep calm, keep my cool. Nothing can hurt me.

Something took over me, and I thought it would be a good idea to put out my phone and turn out my very bright flashlight- right into the ogre's eyes. And so I did. 


I don't know what made me think the flashlight trick would work but to my surprise it did. I guess everything is possible in a dream.

The monster shrieked as the bright light came in contact with its eyes. It covered its eyes with its claws, too distracted to keep on charging to me, and before I was aware of anything else, I saw Hawke climbing in its back with his daggers drilling inside the grey flesh of the ogre.

Bethany and Aveline joined in, the first throwing some fireballs and the former charging and hitting the ogre's legs with her sword.

I impersonated that cape and mask guy of the meme from the anime Sailor Moon, I believe, where he says while twirling his cape dramatically 'my part here is done' and a blond girl goes 'but you didn't do anything'- by not doing anything else at all, just standing there, playing The Sims as Hawke & Co. finished off the ogre.

With a loud thud on the floor and a small earthquake, I was sure the ogre had been killed. Also, the stench of ogre-blood could have helped giving that away. I looked up from my phone and was greeted by the sight of Hawke removing one of his daggers from the monster. The man was drenched in sweat and dark blood, but man did he look majestic as fuck. Bethany cleaned a bit of blood from her face disgustingly and Aveline sheathed her sword.

Yawning, I watched Hawke do a flip and land right perfectly on the floor, beside the ogre corpse.

Instead of I saying anything, the man came up to me and exclaimed, "What- How did you do that!?"

Oh shit, I just broke my dream-people. I know this is not real but hear me out here, dudes from a medieval setting shouldn't see a phone, like ever, and I just showed one to them. Hawke was confused as shit, to the point of forgetting his dead sibling for a second.

I thought it was my duty to keep the game script going strong, eventually we will get to Kirkwall and I'll meet Varric, or not, but who cares, this place is boring as shit, "Oh, this?" I waved my phone around, "Nothing you should worry about- there are more important things to do right now." I subtly gestured the fallen warrior across the terrain with my eyes.

"Carver," the man mumbled, probably realizing just now his brother was gone, and quickly ran towards his mother and sister grieving beside a dead Carver. I took timid little steps towards the rock wall where the ogre had thrown the young man (and avoided breathing the stench the dead ogre exhaled, which is unbearable, by the way). I kept my distance, like the ghost of communism in eastern Europe, lurking in the shadows, just at an earshot, so I could maybe confirm the dream versions of DA2 characters are following the script. I made sure to be close because my eyesight is shit. Bad idea, however, because the scene was pretty graphic- Craver's head torn open, blood everywhere, his...brains...coming out from the open wound. Eck, not describing the rest.

I heard Hawke and Leandra give their usual speeches of 'we can grieve when we're safe' and the Hawke matriarch saying the classic line 'don't speak to me of grief'. It's not that I don't feel bad for the whole scene, but I've seen this so many times I became numb to it. That's not true about Leandra's death, because I cry every time I play through that part. 

Plus, it's just a game.

I ignored the rest of the familiar cutscene with my boi Wesley commending the young man's soul to the Maker, and focused on a pretty sharp rock lying on the floor close by. 

Maybe if I try to cut myself with a sharp rock inside the dream I'll wake up? It's not like anything can harm me, right? Something tells me I'd regret this life choice like I always do, but I collected the rock from the floor nonetheless, and played with the pointy end for a second. 

This dream seems so livid however, it makes me think it could be part of something far more sinister.

Ah, but what do I know? Probably something bad I had at lunch today. That hot-dog I ate really looked shady, with that glowy cheddar cheese. Ewww.

I brushed the sharp edge of the black rock into the back of my hand and let a small groan of pain as the rock drilled inside my hand, ripping apart my perfect skin for about five centimeters, letting out a tiny stream of blood. It burned a bit, like I had actually cut myself in real life.

"Oh, uh." Why am I not waking up? WHY WHY WHY WHY????? Could this...? No, no, no! Everything is fine, eVeRyThInG iS fInE. Breathe in and breathe out, Mayara. This is not real, this is not real. I told myself angrily to wake up.

I started to get nervous and cold sweat. Cleaning my blood in my pajama pants, I continued paying attention to other thinks other than myself, because I realized the game script is kinda broken because Flemeth is nowhere to be found. Isn't she supposed to show up right after one of the twins' death? I looked around, but saw anything but the usual wasteland. I could hear some sounds in the distance, and I couldn't distinguish what was making it, which sent shivers upon my spine.

I tried not to look at the grieving family, because it was just awkward enough for me to just stand there already not being part of cutscene and not wanting to interfere too much with the cript.

"Mother, please, we have to go." Bethany urged her mother. From the her tone of voice, I noticed she was holding back tears. Yes, yes, I remember that part, "Carver wouldn't want his sacrifice to be meaningless,"

"I will never forget you, Carver." Leandra cupped her dead son's bloody cheek as the remaining children stood up from the floor.

I was mistaken, Flemeth would show up after another mini fight with the 'spawn which would happen after the mourning scene. I'm actually pretty disappointed at myself for not remembering that correctly, given my absolute obsession with the series. Oh well.

I threw the rock I cut myself with towards the distance, only for it to hit the head of the foremost member of a huge group of monsters apparently no one had noticed coming. "Puta merda, {literally 'whore shit' but it can be used as 'holy shit' in this context}

The thing growled at me and I shrieked in fright, running and hiding behind Hawke like a small child afraid from nightmares hiding behind their mother.

"We are too late!" Aveline exclaimed. Soon enough, everyone realized there were Darkspawn all around! How did they...? Never mind. 

Oh well, if I'm staying here for a while until I wake up, I gotta make the best of my dream time. I know it's scary and shit but I'm a brave girl- I survived 7x1 from that fateful soccer match my country played against Germany, so I can survive this stupid dream.

Bethany held her staff tightly, "There's no end to them!"

I smiled, throwing another rock at the horde that didn't seem to have moved an inch for some reason. I assumed that I broke the game script while in my dream, or that even though DA2 is Hawke's tale, somehow in this dream it's my tale, "Don't worry, Flemeth will show up just in time to save our asses!"

I instantly regretted saying that, because the icy glare Aveline shot me was chilling. It was very real. "The Witch of the Wilds?"

"Only a witch to save our asses now, it seems," Hawke announced, unsheathing his daggers and jumping into a Hurlock, cutting off its arms before it could understand what was going on. Black liquid pouring and splashing into our hero.

Bethany joined it, throwing an ice projectile at another one of the Darkspawn, going right through its middle. Aveline, on the other hand, charged like a bull, sword and shield in hand, pushing and flanking the monsters. The Mabari had been quiet for a while, and instead of charging with its master, he stayed behind with Leandra.

Mayara, for one, stood there throwing rocks at the Darkspawn, praying to every God she knew that she wouldn't hit anyone on her side. 

Third person narration gag aside, I was impressed at myself though, never thought I could hit more than one lucky shot with those rocks, but apparently I am a natural. Thank you for that, Zelda games. 

Everything was going smoothly enough, our little team was almost turning the tide of the battle, only a few Darkspawn left to kill, and I was counting the seconds for when Flemeth would show up in dragon form, roasting the baddies and so on, so I wasn't at all surprised to hear her dragon screech from the top of the rocky wall behind us.

Everyone present immediately stopped whatever they were doing and looked back, only to see this massive fucking purple dragon unfold its wings and take off flying, roasting everything on its path.

Hawke, Bethany and Aveline all jumped down and pressed their bodies against the floor, to avoid the flying dragon, and I did the same for the sake of continuity. 

The dragon grabbed some of the monsters with its claw-things, soaring to the skies and throwing them away like a sack of raw potatoes. After roasting some more of the spawns of evil, the dragon eventually landed close to us, making some wind around, before shapeshifting into an old woman I knew all too well.

"I told you guys she would come!" I announced proudly. That was not quite fair, given the fact that I already knew everything that was going to happen. 

Everyone was jaw dropped at the unusual occurrence to even bother replying. I didn't notice Aveline going back to where Leandra, Carver's corpse and Wesley were.

Flemeth walked towards us in some dramatic slow motion for drama, her cape-thing flying behind her and her cool™ hair looked pretty smooth and well-kept for the time period.

I was prepared to be ignored for the entire cutscene, because I essentially wasn't part of the game. It was weird for Hawke and Co. to interact with me the way they did, because that was not supposed to happen in the game script, now that I think about it.

"My, it used to be we never got visitors to the Wilds, but now they seem to arrive in hordes." The classic remark was as iconic in dream as it was in-game. "Hmm, and I can sense some forgotten magics at work here, it's a lucky day indeed." She glanced at me briefly with a smile on her face.

Oh, I don't remember that part being in the game. Up until now I hadn’t interfered with anything, it was Dream_Hawke who came to me to hang out, but for all I knew, Flemeth shouldn't be able to know I'm here. 

I guess this should be a concern.

Chapter Text

"My, it used to be we never got visitors to the wilds, now they seem to arrive in hordes." The classic remark was as iconic in dream as it was in-game. "Hmm, and I can sense some forgotten magics at work here, it's a lucky day indeed." She looked at me briefly with a smile on her face.

Oh, I don't remember that part being in the game. Up until now I hadn’t interfered with anything, it was Dream-Hawke who came to me to hang out, but for all I knew, Flemeth shouldn't be able to know I'm here. 

I guess this should be a concern.

But she's not talking about me, right?

No, really. And, is it just me or is some of the dialogue missing? I might be unconsciously deleting something, oh well.

I decided to stay quiet for the meantime, maybe if I wish hard enough this glitch will pass without any major occurrences and I will wake up a bit scared but fine. Mostly fine, because the place where I cut myself is hurting like shit.

Hawke, as the cocky bastard he is, completely ignored everything else regarding his dead sibling and just focused in the fact that the creepy old woman showed up like a dragon, "Impressive... Where did you learn how to turn into a dragon?"

I actually wonder about that myself. Lore-wise, I remember during Dragon Age: Origins that Morrigan or someone else mentioning something about Flemeth consulting with spirits, so maybe she got it from them? I have no idea. When I wake up I'll pay more attention to those details when I play.

If I wake up at all, that is.

What are you saying you dumb bitch of course you'll wake up.

"Perhaps I am a dragon." Flemeth's voice sounded a bit more chilling for some reason, "If so, count yourself lucky- the smell of burning Darkspawn does nothing for the appetite." She added, staring at one of the random burning Darkspawn corpses close by, and then glancing every once in a while at me, making my anxious ass think she was seeing something in my face or my teeth, like a piece of the hotdog I ate earlier, "If you wish to flee the Darkspawn, you should know you're heading in the wrong direction."

I almost said something in the lines of 'everyone knows that, but the horde is at the north and the only option to not immediately die is by going south towards your fun hut in the Wilds', but luckily I was able to contain myself.

The witch dramatically turned on her heel, making her hydrated and seemingly soft hair flow with the wind as she almost waltzed away. I'd give up my right kidney for hair half as good as hers to be honest. My shitty frizzy hair is as wild as hair can get.

"Wait!" Bethany waved her staff around, trying to catch the witch's attention, "You can't just leave us here!"

She can but she won't, dear, sweet, Bethany. Do not fear. You are doing great. I may be biased when it comes to the mage Hawke twin but have you seen her? If my siblings were half as supporting as she is I'd be a happy girl. I'm positively sure they are at 100% rivalry with me.

I calmly watched the witch turn her head back to us, slightly, over her shoulder, "Can I not-?"

Everything was going on as planned, and I couldn't make out any major differences my mind could have conjured (although the lack of subtitles made everything a bit more difficult for my Brazilian ass).

But I spoke too soon, because as everyone's second favorite Witch of the Wilds spoke, a loud and obnoxious 'Ca-ching!' sound echoed from my Minion pajamas, making Flemeth stop talking. I had totally forgotten about the fact that I didn't even own such clothing, but I wore them nevertheless in this weird dream. However that's not the point. 

I felt everyone's eyes fall into me as I quickly pulled my phone and found out the sound was coming from my phone- and it was a notification. 

'The items in production are ready. Come pick them up!' It said, in the locked screen that had a picture of the Colosseum. "Sweeeeeeet, my nails are ready!" I mentioned, suddenly, before unlocking my phone. I once again felt the eyes of everyone present on me, so I tried to mend it, "Oh! Don't mind me...just...keep on talking."

I had to check my city, people! Plus, I already knew the cutscene almost entirely by heart. I also turned off the sounds from the phone, leaving it with the vibratory function, just in case.

Flemeth was the only one who didn't act surprised with my high-tech gear, for she was the one to continue, not paying much attention to what had just happened, she just rolled her eyes and continued right where she had stopped, "-I spotted the most curious sight- a blinding bright light, then a mighty ogre, vanquished! Who could perform such a feat? But now my curiosity is sated and you are safe...for the moment. Is that not enough?"

Between tending to my SimCity and being aware of my surroundings, I could almost see Hawke's dialogue wheel popping up in front of the rogue, and I mentally wondered if he was choosing between the different replies, hovering the mouse cursor between them like I did when I played. "You could show me the trick of yours. It looks useful." He said.

Flemeth let out a hearty laugh, "If only a clever tongue could make it so. Tell me, clever child, how do you intend to outrun the Blight?"

At that point in the cutscene, I was barely paying any attention anymore, because my virtual town needed my attention more than anyone else. The sims in my town called me mayor. I've never been worshiped that much in my life! It really helps inflate the ego.

"We need to get to Kirkwall, in the Free Marches." Bethany explained.

"Kirkwall? My, it is quite the voyage you plan." The Witch seemed surprised, "Your king will not miss you, hmm?"

I lifted my eyes from the screen for just to be able to see Hawke putting his hands on his waist and replying. "I'm sure he'll miss his life more." 

Classic. If I were half the jokester Hawke is, I'd be a happy girl.

Flemeth and I alike are fine appreciators of Hawke's spot on humor, because the Witch laughed,  "Ha ha ha ha, oh you I like!" I decided it was time to stop playing SimCity (and that decision had nothing to do with the fact that in order to continue building I needed to make more iron, but it would take me 2 hours in real time, unless I paid to win and that was not going to happen- EA is not going to have this girl's credit card) and pay attention to the amazing cinematic cutscene my brain was conjuring, just for me. "Hurtled into the chaos you fight and the world will shake before you." The Witch continued, as she calmly turned around, thinking, staring at the distance, "Is it fate or chance? I can never decide. Sometimes neither, sometimes both." I put my phone away, as I observed Flemeth turning around once more, apparently now sure of her decision to help the gang, "It appears fortune smiles on us both today. I may be able to help you yet."

"There must be a catch" Hawke crossed his arms, frowning. Well, yes. My people have a simple saying that can reflect this situation: não existe almoço grátis- which means 'there is no such thing as free lunch', everything, absolutely everything has a catch.

"There is always a catch! Life is a catch! I suggest you catch it if you can!" Nice wording, Mythal's vessel, ever thought about becoming a poet?

Unfunny jokes aside, the way the Witch keeps glancing at me every now and again makes me really uncomfortable, even more so than by wearing this Minion pajamas I don't even own.

"Maybe we shouldn't trust her. We don't even know what she is!" Bethany asked no one in particular. Flemeth smiled, and once again I told myself to stay out of it, because I had disrupted the natural order of things enough already. 

"I know what she is," Aveline answered the question, "She's a Witch of the Wilds." The woman just turned into a dragon, of course she's a witch- you don't need to have played the game to realize that.

"Some people call me that, also Flemeth, Asha'bellenar... an old hag who talks too much." The witch added, "Does it matter? I offer you this: I will get your group pass the horde in exchange for a simple delivery to a place not far from your way. Would you do this for a Witch of the Wilds?"

I know I would. I've always loved a bargain with mythical creatures. There was this one time I sold my soul to the boogeyman in the sewers. 

Hawke glanced at me, then at Aveline (who was holding her husband still, as he thrashed with what I knew was Darkspawn corruption), "What is a Witch if the Wilds, exactly?

I noticed he clicked on the '?' sign in the dialogue wheel. I love those small lore moments.

It was Aveline who replied, as she was coded to do, and mainly because I was keeping my mouth shut, even though I knew her dialogue by heart, "A Chasind legend. Witches that steal children,"

"Bah," Flemeth waved her hands, as if insulted, "As if I had nothing better to do!" If I were a witch, I would most likely use my power just to terrorize villages and steal riches because there isn't anything else to do, honestly. However that lifestyle wouldn't last long, because I would be bound to labeled 'the village witch' and be hunted until caught and then burned at a stake. Ahh, good times. 

Bethany was surprised, as I would be in her place, "So you're an apostate?"

"Yes. Just like you," All the drama with the entire endless bickering between mages and templars is a bit too old now. We know templars are assholes sometimes but we also know some mages as evil and sacrifice innocents for power, which is very unoriginal. The dilemma will never ever be solved.

And as much as people say it was Anders who triggered the war when he went ballistic and exploded the Chantry, I say he was just the last one to take a wooden piece of the giant Jenga that is Thedas, causing it to collapse. Much like the beginning of World War I, archduke Francis Ferdinand's death was just another piece taken from Earth's Jenga. Not that I approve of his actions, by any means.

"You've almost convinced me," Hawke took a step closer to the Witch, "I want to know, however, how much trouble will this delivery be? We don't need any more trouble than what we are already ass deep in,"

"About as much trouble as my saving your lives not five minutes ago" the witch responded. Fair enough. 

Hawke acknowledged, "Good point,"

"If you knew my daughter, you'd know how seldom I hear that." What does 'seldom' mean, though? I have no idea. Remind me to check it later in a dictionary.

After Flemeth's reply, there was an awkward silence between everyone, and I thought that it was because Hawke was hovering over the different replies in his dialogue wheel, so I took the extra time to check out the time on my phone.

It said 02:37 a.m. 

That's understandable, since I'm supposed to be fast asleep right now. And you know, that's not an issue because I'm lucid dreaming. However it was also pretty weird because it is clearly day in this dream.

The rogue finally made his choice of dialogue, and it didn't surprise me at all when he chose the icon that triggered the companions' opinion. I always choose that one because I like to bribe my companions into liking me, "Should we trust her?" Hawke turned tot he rest of us, waiting for the comments.

I was going to make the following comment: everyone knows witches, some of them turn a rabbit into a bouquet of roses, and some are shady and their plan is to take over the world with an old god soul. This witch is the latter. 

But I'm a cautious girl so I didn't say anything, and let my good old Aveline say her part, "Wesley is injured, we'll never escape the Darkspawn." We all turned to her, and it was very visible that it had become harder to hold on Wesley still. The corruption is working faster than I remember... But then again I'm not a very reliable narrator, especially in dream. 

Her husband looked awful, his skin was grey-ish, full of stains and popped out veins. I couldn't see anymore because I was quite far from them, and as I said before my eyesight is shitty. "If you need to, leave me behind." He said.

"No!" The ginger haired woman objected, holding the man down as he squirmed, "I say I would drag you if I needed to, and I meant it."

Everyone fell quiet. Even Leandra looked up from her dead son at that, but I of course was unaffected by this scene, since I've seen it multiple times before (and not even the first time I've seen this it affected me). I was staring at the floor, and played with a tiny rock with my feet and flip-flops.

However, my lack of emotion caught Flemeth's attention- something I definitely didn't want, "You have been awfully quiet so far, my dear singer," How does she know I'm a singer? How could she know? If anyone wishes me to sing Tatyana's 'Писма' from Tchaikovsky's Evgenij Onegin, all they need to do is ask! But since no one did, she couldn't have know. That certainly caught my attention, because I stopped playing in the dirt and looked up at the Witch.

"What? Me?" I played dumb, so that my dream creations wouldn't try to outmaneuver my questionably superior intellect (and clearly superior vocal chords). I smiled falsely and pointed at myself.

"Don't you have any insightful commentary to add to the discussion?" At that point, Hawke, Bethany, Aveline and even Leandra and Wesley looked at me, questioning looks on their faces. The Witch had not interacted with anyone without being triggered first. I suppose I should be concerned about that, even in dream. Why would I have any insightful commentary on this event? Because I know what will happen? If so, that's a shitty excuse.

I had no desire to take up more time from this seemingly endless fucking cutscene. I want to meet Varric already, goddamn it.

"Nah, not really," I replied, waving my hand casually, "The Mabari ate my tongue." I gestured the dog with my eyes.

Summer, Hawke's dog, barked loudly in objection. 

Help me out here, boy!

The Witch smiled, "I am not at all surprised to see you here, then."

What is that supposed to mean? Surprised to see me where? In my dream? As far as I'm concerned, there was no mystery magical shazzam or whatnot, I just remember falling and shaking hands for some reason. But I'm not at all reliable... I don't even remember what I had for lunch yesterday.

Ughh, what to do, what to do??? The dream version of Flemeth went out of her script to ask if I had more commentary on the situation... So maybe my brain is glitching out? Well whatever, I'm gonna talk my ear off just because the dream witch said so. I turned to Hawke, and imagined the game camera was on me, "So, even if no one else other than the Witch asked for my humble opinion I'm giving it anyway: you should do as she says, Hawke. It's a simple enough amulet delivery, considering the circumstances, it could be much worse." That was actually exactly what I thought while playing. In a way, this dream is cool, because I can express myself, just like Madonna, "Trust me when I say it's the only way you- ahem, I will make it to Kirkwall and you'll head off to..." Become the Champion, "...Do your thing."

How do I know this? Why, I've played Dragon Age 2 countless times, of course I know that. Some minutes ago I thought I was dead in a personal purgatory with the DA2 setting...

But now I'm positively sure I'm dreaming, so because of that, it would be weird to talk about the future of Dream Hawke to him. I just imagine if someone came up to me someday dressed in Minion pajamas and told me I'd become the Champion, lose my mother to a blood thirsty magical freak, defeat a huge horned giant and whatever. Maybe it wouldn't be nice to even break this and make this sequence take even longer, so I'm not talking anymore. 

Hawke opened his mouth to say something, but the Witch cut him off,  "You speak with such determination, child, it's endearing." She told me- wAiT wHaT? "It's almost as if you are aware of things you shouldn't be." Alright, alright, this is getting ridiculous, "Like the fact that the delivery I want to be made is, in fact, one of an amulet."

Maybe I shouldn't have said that. Spoilers are not cool.

This is ridiculous, I don't care about any of this, I just want to move with the story, "It's a pesky thing to deliver amulets yourself when you can have other mere mortals do it for you, right?" I gave a small chuckle, but the Witch wasn't amused, "Don't look at me like that! It was just a lucky guess, you know!"

"Both you and I know that's not the case."

"Do we, now?" This I'll have to hear, "And please stop with the talking in riddles, they give me a headache." Do you know how hard it is to translate riddles?

"Maybe we do know? Maybe we don't? Maybe I do know things you don't and I won't tell simply because it amuses me to confuse little girls like you."

Confuse little girls like me? What does this hag know? I'm a proud 19 year old young woman, I ain't no little girl, bitch. I'm two years older than Tatyana was in Tchaikovsky's opera 'Evgenij Onegin'.

"What's your point, here? You can't possibly know anything I don't." Yes. She is essentially a dream version of herself, and she wouldn't know anything I don't, because she is essentially a part of me. Dreams are manifestations of my own unconscious. And they are nor real, like any of this. Eeeek, the cut in my hand is itching, what the hell?

"You'd be surprised with how many things I know." The witch smiled. I'm not at all surprised, given the fact that you know how to secure an old god soul inside your grandchild. Not judging anyone here, because frankly 9/10 of us would do the same. I know I would. 

"Alright, this is getting creepy," I crossed my arms and looked away, like a small spoiled child, "I'm not even supposed to be here talking to you dream-people!" 

"How much do you want to get turned into a toad?" The Witch smiled creepily, "It would be hilarious for me but extremely painful for you."


"Ewww! They are slimy and gross! Nobody likes them...except the French, I guess." 

"Even given your special situation, you should watch your words. Ancient magics protect oneself just enough." The old hag continued, "My friend would hate to see his investment go to waste."

If I wasn't confused before, I definitely am now. "Your...friend? Friend who? The Hero of Ferelden? The creepy clown from the sewer? Because if it's in fact the clown, tell him that if he ever invites me to the sewer I'll be very happy to go."

"What I mean is that you don't know nearly as much as you think you do." 

That's where you are wrong, kiddo. 

I know everything about this series. I know many things aside from that as well, I'm a cultured woman. What's the capital city of Bangladesh? It's Daca bitches. And I'm cocky, yes, of course, but this is my dream so fuck it all, fuck it all, I don't give a shit anymoreeeeeeee, "I'm honestly feeling so attacked right now," I uncrossed my arms and narrowed my eyes at the woman, "Why am I even listening to you? You should be talking to them not me!" I pointed to Hawke and Co, who were extremely spooked by my boldness to speak to a fabled ~~~Witch of the Wilds~~~ like I owned the place, "I don't exist in this world, but they do! Follow the game script!"

"There is no such thing as that." She replied. Hawke's eyes widened in surprise, and I think he was the only one who was actually paying much attention at all, "You exist as much as they do." She pointed at Hawke and Bethany, who were closest to me, by my left, with her pointy metallic gloves.

"This is not real, nothing is real, least of all you, Dream-Flemeth!!" I grunted, impatient, I just want this to be over with! "Velha louca! Não é à toa que eu sempre te mato em Origins! {Crazy hag! No wonder why I always kill you in Origins!}"

The woman laughed so hard it sent shivers upon my spine, "You think this is not real? Would you bleed if it weren't?" That certainly is not what I had in mind when I showed up here, this conversation was a ride from start to finish, "Only a fool doubts what is right in front of him."

What a load of nonsense. 

This doesn't even make sense, what the fuck?

Good, Brain. You're great. You made me create this amazing masterpiece of a dream and you help me control my vocal chords, but you're getting out of control. Please stop. 

This is all my own brain playing tricks. I don't remember smoking that much pot, however.

Even if I'm not dreaming, how would my being transported magically into Dragon Age 2 even be possible? Exactly, it wouldn't. Even if I did, it would sound so...fanfic-y.

"I don't need to debate philosophy or anything with you," I sticked my tongue at the witch. After I had done it, I realized I shouldn't have done that because damn that is unprofessional and childish of me. The Witch laughed. I was sure she wasn't laughing with me, but rather laughing at me. Alright, time to leave this creepy hag and continued with the story, before I lose interest at all- oh well, I'd rather be watching 'The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy', "But whatever, just do as she says, Hawke. There, I've given my wisdom." I took a step back and avoided further eye contact with Flemeth.

Something in the back of my head kept pestering me, telling me I was a stupid bitch and should think about everything for a change. My mind essentially left my body, and inside my empty head that water level tune from Mario 64 played nonstop. Awfully specific, I know.

I felt a bit dizzy, and the urge to throw up came back. Again, I managed to swallow the acid bile, but I didn't feel any better. I seized another tiny patch of skin, on top of the place where I had cut myself minutes before, and pinched it as hard as I could. The pain stung so much that soon after I had tiny tears forming in the corner of my eyes, and the cut started bleeding out again- the wound even opened some more. Why do I feel so much pain? How can I feel so much pain? 

What if...? No. This is just a dream, just a dream. 

I sniffed and cleaned my tears with the back of my not wounded hand.

Hawke replied- I even had forgotten I had addressed him in the first place, "She roasts a few more Darkspawn, and I'm hers." 

I decided I would keep up with the Kardashians----ops, keep up with the cutscene and see where it would take me, and hopefully wake up soon from this nightmare. Hey, look on the bright side, soon I'll see my dream version if Varric and I can give him a hug and buy him a drink at the Hanged Man. Ohh, how could I forget my girls Isabela and Merrill? They are powerful women.

"Sadly my charity is at an end," The Witch joined in this time, returning to her rather cold normal behavior. She walked up to Hawke, and deposited a black amulet aka Horcrux that held a piece of her soul in his hands, "There's a clan of Dalish elves in the outskirts of Kirkwall. Deliver this amulet, as your friend so luckily guessed, to their Keeper, Marethari. Do as she asks with it, and any debt between us is payed in full." When will this be over? Shouldn't she bitch about Wesley dying or something...? "Before I take you anywhere, however, there is another matter." She looked over at Aveline and Wesley. Consequently, Bethany, Hawke and I looked over as well.

Oh. There it is.

"No! Leave him alone." The red haired woman growled, protective, over her wounded husband. Hawke followed Flemeth as she calmly walked towards the man. Bethany however, went to her mother and held her tightly, as she still held Carver's corpse.

I stayed where I was, because I was now trying to make the bleeding stop, and I honestly didn't want to get too close to Wesley, given his...situation. Even in dream that seems nasty as fuck. "What has been done to your man is within his blood already." She looked at Aveline, emotionless yellow eyes glittering.

The woman protested, looking away, "You lie!"

"She's right, Aveline. I can feel...the corruption...inside me." The templar pulled Aveline's clothing, making her look back at him. She touched his hand gently before kneeling back down.

"This...corruption, is the permanent sort, I take it?" Hawke, sensible as ever, asked.

Flemeth looked briefly at the couple, then at Hawke, then at me for some reason, "The only cure I know of is to become a Grey Warden."

Hawke sighed sadly, "And they all died at Ostagar."

"Not all, but the last are now beyond your reach." The Witch added, softly. Alistair and the Hero of Ferelden, of course. 

"Aveline, listen to me-" Wesley was struggling to speak, he was clenching his middle, where he had- oh shit. In the small opening of his armor, right in the side of his waist, there was a red bloody stain, which his hands tried to hold something in, keeping something from falling out. The man's hands were trembling like leaves and were coated in a thick layer of blood. Aveline would hold his hands, but being careful not to touch whatever was coming out of his wound.

Odd, I don't remember this part being so graphic.

The red haired soldier cut her husband off, her voice cracking with tears, "You can't ask me this. I won't." Her soft green eyes wouldn't leave Wesley's grey, almost dead ones.

"Please... the corruption is a slow death...I can't..." The templar clutched his wound a bit tighter, the pain visible in his face, even if he tried to hide it. Aveline squeezed her husband's hands tightly, fighting back tears.

She glanced at Hawke, hopeful he would have an answer. "He's your husband, Aveline. I can't decide his fate." Hawke kneeled beside them, and unsheathed one of his simple tier 1 daggers, handing it to her, silently telling her it would be the best, "I'm sorry it had to come to this," 

Despite his pain, Wesley nodded faintly, "Be strong, my love." 

The soldier clasped the dagger, her red hands trembling, "I will always love you, Wesley," her voice was barely audible, given the tears she now let loose.

The templar smiled faintly at his wife one last time.

His smile didn't fade when Aveline gently carved another smile, in red, across his throat, with the dagger Hawke lent her. The crimson liquid was thick, and as quick as the cut was made, life drained from Wesley's already half-dead face.

Wait, Wesley didn't die like that..? The knife didn't slit his throat! The dagger went into his stomach! Well, I never understood what actually happened during that scene, because as I understand it, the dagger would have gone into his armor (???).

At any rate, my boi Wesley was dead and the story could continue normally.

"Without an end, there can be no peace." Flemeth glanced over at Aveline, who now cleaned a few tears with the back of her hand, after gently closing her husband's eyes with her fingers. The 'cleaning' left a faint trail of red in the warrior's cheeks, because her hands were bloody already, "It gets no easier. Your struggles have only just begun..." The witch started, turning around and waltzing dramatically away.

The screen was supposed the fade to black like, right now, yes? Why isn't it fading???  Fade to black then cut to Varric's narration... With those cool art sequence as well. What even? We should have showed up in the cargo hold of a ship heading to Kirkwall!

Hawke received his dagger back from Aveline and stood up, following Flemeth with his eyes, I watched the rogue closely, waiting for his leadership, "So, what happens now?"

"It seems I shall fulfill my end of the bargain by taking you to Gwaren. As soon as you get there, I'm not responsible for anything else," Flemeth explained, "Oh, how I hate having to be the first to fulfill a promise..." I wonder why? Maybe because you can have her killed by your Warden in DAO because Morrigan asked? "Now, you all gather in a single horizontal line..."

What on the...?

She's gonna sacrifice us all.

Why didn't she say so? I have some neat ideas of chants to sing and how to draw pretty pentagrams.

Hawke remained skeptical, as would I in his place, "How is this going to work?"

"If you keep talking, it won't." Flemeth closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, mildly annoyed, "Certainly you wouldn't want to have pieces of your body scattering about elsewhere, I suppose? It would be extremely amusing for me, but extremely inconvenient for you." Again with this shit? Someone lacks originality! And one thing I despise is being a copycat, that's why I'm unique as fuck! Tell me, how many aspiring opera divas do you know? Not so many, am I right? Yet here I am, bringing the truest and most up-class form of art known to mankind.

"Point. Taken." The rogue acknowledged, "I...I'll just shut up now, I guess."

"Very wise," the Witch smiled, finally getting what she wanted. Maybe Hawke can get annoying sometimes? Not to me, however, because I think that Purple Hawke the best Bioware protagonist in the history of ever, "As I was saying, in a horizontal line, everyone." Flemeth pointed at the floor, then made a horizontal line in the air, serving for guidance to the rest of us.

Was I really going to follow the instructions of a dream version of a Witch? Meh, whatever, I just want to meet Varric. Or wake up. Whatever comes first, I suppose. For the meantime, I shall stay quiet, don't want to get harassed by a certain witch. 

I did as she told me, positioned myself where she had pointed, and being the unsociable and meme loving fuck I am, I stayed as far as I could from the rest. However, avoiding more unnecessary drama. The only other one who obeyed was Aveline, and I stood beside her, again, not very close.

I got distracted by some sounds at the distance. That is probably not a good sign. This little odd event in Hawke's life seemed like a bubble of calm in the sea of Darkspawn. I like to think that Flemeth, being the badass witch she is, somehow could stop the 'spawn for a while, so she could talk to the guy who killed the ogre that murdered his sibling.

"We can't leave Carver's body!" Leandra's tearful complaints was what brought me back to reality. I looked over at her and could see she clenched to her son's corpse, as both Bethany and Garrett tried to remove her.

"Come on, Mother, we can't. We will die if we stay!" The mage urged her mother, forcibly trying to make her stand, "Please," 

I'm somewhat resentful of Leandra. You know, she blamed her eldest child for the death of one of the twins (depending on Hawke's class, of course) for over a year, and that breaks a person. Not that I have a tragic backstory™ as tragic as Hawke's, but I understand what that must feel like. She does have redeemable qualities, like her love for her children and such but whatever, like, no one is obligated to love toxic people, even if they are family. 

The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb, after all.

The eldest Hawke sibling helped his sister put their mother up to her feet and in line with Aveline and I, as the older woman finally understood that the fate of her still surviving children was more important, especially now that Garrett agreed to sell his soul to the witch basically, "I...understand." 

Hawke and Bethany both wanted to appear brave, for their mother's sake, keeping their heads high waiting to see what the Witch would do next. I'll admit, I am curious to what will happen, since this all is my brain's original work.

One thing my people also say is: keep your head up high, princess, otherwise your crown will fall. 

Hawke snapped his fingers and his Mabari promptly made its way to his side. Sk the display was like this, from left to right: I, Aveline, Hawke, Summer, Leandra and Bethany.

"Wonderful, now that everyone has agreed to move on, we can continue. In order for the spell to work and not strand anyone, you should stay as close to each other and as still as possible- just the smallest movement could ruin everything- no need to deliver the amulet then." I honestly didn't listen to her say that, because my mind was too worried about the sorry state of my nails.

But nevertheless I made q comment, mainly because I was kinda impatient and wanted to skip all this and head to the part where Varric is, "Alright, what now-?"

Flemeth cut me off, "See you later~" She snapped her fingers, and some weird purple mist formed around us, just like that, as quick as you could sneeze. And as quick as I could realize what the fuck was going on.

I felt dizzy, and had a sudden urge to cough. I closed my eyes for a second, and when I opened them again, I was no longer in the outskirts of Lothering, but somewhere else I didn't recognize. I looked around and I noticed we landed in a wooden platform, in the middle of a crowd of people, overlooking the vast blue ocean. I was almost at the edge of the platform, so I had to keep my balance in order not to fall into the ocean, while being pushed around by said people. 

I didn't know this new place could be as crowded as the São Paulo metro during rush hour. Ahhhhhh, now if I could just find some corrupt politicians, cheap illegal Chinese trinkets, crappy motorcycles running amok between the cars, people killing each other over soccer and high crime rates, I'll feel just like home. 

But I was not at home, I knew that much. Even in dream.

However, in this little port we are, there were boats all around, but I couldn't distinguish much else.

I shielded my eyes with my hands, because the sun was pretty bright, but I could not believe them. 

Where am I?

How did I get here??? The witch-? How? 

Is there even supposed to be a 'here'?

"At least the creepy witch kept her promise," Hawke commented, between awkward coughs, "She took us to Gwaren in one piece."

Oh, there's a helpful sign written 'Welcome to Gwaren'.

I'm kidding, there's no such sign. But I wanted one, brain.

Shitty jokes aside, Gwaren doesn't even appear in the games???? How can I imagine this shit?

Alright, I really gotta wake up now.

Chapter Text

Flemeth cut me off, "See you later~" She snapped her fingers, and some weird purple mist formed around us, just like that, as quick as you could sneeze. And as quick as I could realize what the fuck was going on.

I felt dizzy, and had a sudden urge to cough. I closed my eyes for a second, and when I opened them again, I was no longer in the outskirts of Lothering, but somewhere else I didn't recognize. I looked around and I noticed we landed in a wooden platform, in the middle of a crowd of people, overlooking the vast blue ocean. I was almost at the edge of the platform, so I had to keep my balance in order not to fall into the ocean, while being pushed around by people. 

I didn't know this new place could be as crowded as the São Paulo metro during rush hour. Ahhhhhh, now I just need some corrupt politicians, cheap illegal Chinese trinkets, crappy motorcycles running amok between the cars and high crime rates that I'll feel just like home. 

But I was not at home, I knew that much. Even in dream.

However, in this little port we are, there were boats all around, but I couldn't distinguish much else.

I shielded my eyes with my hands, because the sun was pretty bright, but I could not believe them. 

Where am I?

How did I get here??? The witch-? How? 

Is there even supposed to be a 'here'?

"At least the creepy witch kept her promise," Hawke commented, between awkward coughs, "She took us to Gwaren in one piece."

Oh, there's a helpful sign written 'Welcome to Gwaren'.

I'm kidding, there's no such sign. But I wanted one, brain.

Shitty jokes aside, Gwaren doesn't even appear in the games???? How can I imagine this shit?

Alright, I really gotta wake up now.

"Move it!" I heard someone behind me shout, "Maker's sake! If you are not going to buy a ticket, make room for the ones who are!" The platform was too crowded to identify someone in there. The amount of human heat there was intoxicating. There were people coughing, screaming, sneezing and crying. I then realized we were not in a simple crowd, but in a line for something.

"Ticket to what?" Bethany asked the crowd. Not even Hawke, who was not a small dude, got pushed around by the crowd. If even my man Garrett got treated like that, imagine how a relatively small girl like me would be! We need some room to breathe and I need some room to pinch myself for the third time in hopes of waking up- you know what they say, third time's a charm.

"Out of this hole!" Came the reply...from somewhere.

I chuckled, but it was out of anxiety, rather than amusement, "Very precise, thanks a lot, fam." 

"Fuck you!" Alright, then. Dream People are rude, damn.

"The Witch could at least have brought us somewhere less crowded in Gwaren, it's not like the entire city is like this." Hawke complained, almost taking the words right out of my mouth.

I stood on my tiptoes in order to see better, and noticed there was a fat guy seated by the platform to a ship, by a large table. There was where the crowd of people was heading. The guy had to be particularly huge for me to be able to see, given my shit eyesight and the amount of heads in my front, "That fat guy looks like he's in charge. Can you see him?"

"It's hard not to." Hawke, who was the tallest of the group but himself in tiptoes and tried to look where I was looking, "He's fat, and fat people are normally in charge."

"Everyone seems to be reporting to him. Maybe he is the one selling tickets to Kirkwall in one of those boats." Bethany clanged onto her mother, trying not to let her slip away, as Leandra's stare was blank. Even in dream, I can't blame a mother for grieving her son's death, even if he kinda deserved. Okay no, I'm not that heartless, it was not deserved.

Aveline pushed a guy away from her, in order to make room to breathe, "We should find out as soon as possible." ASAP. Finally someone used the expression 'asap' in real life! Technically not real life but you get it.

"How will we get there?" Bethany asked, progressively annoyed at the crowd, "We can't move past this crowd!"

I was the one who was less annoyed by the crowd of people in the platform. Please note the word less here. I was annoyed at it all, for obvious reasons, but I'm used to them, because in order to get to University, I had to get the crowded metro at prime rush hour at home (which I'm definitely not looking forward to waking up and taking that route to Uni today in the morning). And also, most importantly, I know how to get out of them.

"Hey, I know how." I announced, a bit too proudly. After all, I'm the queen of crowds. I know how to contort myself in order to effectively maneuver myself out of them, and take other people along. What can I say, I've had much practice at home. "Hold on into each other tightly- like your life depends on it, that's crucial- and follow me!"

Aveline seemed to doubt my abilities, "Are you sure?"

"I was born and raised in São Paulo, if I know anything is how to handle a crowd." I smiled, despite having being poked in the ribs by some random person. "Caralho [dick], that hurt."

"Lead on," Hawke looked at me and nodded, grabbing my left arm with his hand. His hand was surprisingly soft to the touch, considering that 1- he's a guy, 2- he's a rogue and 3- we are in a medieval scenario. But whatever, since this is my dream, Hawke can have soft hands. 

I trusted the rest of the gang was doing the same as him (I mean, holding into each other, not having soft hands, but that wouldn't hurt), so I proceeded to do my thing. I mentally rubbed my hands together like a villain in a crappy 60s cartoon.

"Hold on tight, Mother," Bethany told Leandra. Yes, great, we can't afford to lose anyone in this mess. Due to my experiences with crowds, that's the easiest thing to happen.

I took a deep breath and began pushing away the people. Gently, of course, it wouldn't be a master's work if it were not gently.

True enough to my word, I contorted myself in such a way around the crowd, and the gang followed my movements, and by the time I had started to picture the song 'The Sugar Plum Fairy Dance' from the Nutcracker ballet while we waltzed about, we had already magically arrived at the edge of the platform, where this big fat ginger haired guy was seated by a table, taking notes in a book with a pen-thing made out of a feather.

I was actually surprised at the fact that a crowd of refugees trying to flee from the Blight could be this organized. Like, no one tried to storm pass the ginger haired man and into the shit behind him. I don't know about you, but sure as hell that I would make a run for the boat without paying, if I were in fact living this.

His 'table' was nothing more than a large wooden box, however, and there were many little brown pouches placed on top of it, filled with coin, I'd wager. The fat man wore greasy clothing to match his greasy hair. He hadn't seen a bath in weeks, it seemed.

He also seemed, like Hawke assumed, to be in charge, allowing people to enter the big wooden ship behind him. Not before paying some unknown amount of dream-money. Kudos for capitalism!

The gang and I were practically pulled into the table, and we were awfully close to the guy. I narrowed my eyes as I noticed some smudge in the guy's face. I cringed internally.

Hawke is very charming, and he smiled at the distracted man before saying, "I understand you are the one selling tickets to Kirkwall-" The rogue man started talking to the man, but someone behind us yelled,

"Hey, don't cut the line! Stay back and wait for your turn like the rest of us!" Cutting the line is something I kinda despise? Like, if I'm the one cutting then there's no problem, but when someone cuts in front of me, then I get pissed.

This time, however, it was the former. Not to mention the fact that I couldn't care less about this other dream people.

Just like myself, the gang ignored the protests. 

Without taking his eyes from his notes, and giving even less fucks about the yelling crowd, the man replied to Hawke's implied question, "Yes, I am. Yes, the ship leaves tonight. Yes, you'll have two meals a day while on board. Yes, the price is 5 sovereigns per person. No, I won't let you in the boat if you have no money." The greasy man sighed heavily, annoyed, as he finally looked up from his notes- green eyes scanning the five of us, before locking briefly with my blue ones, "Now, pay up, I don't have all day, and the space is limited inside." He extended his hand, waiting for money, before returning to his notes. 

I'd give my left arm to know what he is writing- I bet it's smutty literature.

The man screamed 'asshole'. Oh damn, why do I have to put up with those types even in dream? Ahh, what won't I do for Varric.

Not even Bob the fucking Builder can fix this guy's attitude for fuck's sake. Everything about him screams 'I wasn't loved by my parents as a child and now my wife wants to leave me'.

I raised an eyebrow at that. The man was rude, sure, but how could I even create such a person? One that seems so real in his assholeness, and the fact that I had zero money with me, and I absolutely would not trade my phone for this. 

I decided to wait and see what happens next.

For some reason I had the song 'Strangers Like Me' from Tarzan playing in the back of my mind, but it was just the chorus playing, like a ruined disk.

I observed Hawke take a pouch from his pocket (don't ask me what pocket because I'm just as confused as the rest of you), and before he could hand it over, his mother, in a move pulled straight from Naruto, grabbed her son's wrist, "15 sovereigns is all we have, Garrett."

I didn't know people were allowed to refer to Hawke as Garrett though.

I get it would not be the best to spend all the money like that but Leandra, my girl, but it has to be like this if you want to reach Kirkwall. As much as I wanted to just tell them everything would be okay, I felt like I shouldn't.

"Mother, we need to get away from Ferelden." Bethany urged.

But her mother is stubborn, as I would (arguably) be in her place, I mean, so many things could happen and they would give up all their money for a chance of escaping, not even knowing if those people will actually take them to Kirkwall, "There must be another way other to get out without spending all of our money!"

"You heard the witch, we are on our own now, we need to go." Hawke gently removed his mother's hand from his wrist, "We don't know if another opportunity will ever show up."

"I don't trust that witch,"

"Then trust me, alright?"

The greasy fat man sighed loudly, gathering the Hawkes' attention, "I don't have all afternoon, and the crowd behind you doesn't either." He then glanced at Hawke, then at Hawke's purse, "Pay up or beat it."

I wondered if I should go with them, stay here, throw myself in the water or do something else...

The rogue nodded, and deposited the pouch on the table, "Here, 15 sovereigns- all we have."

Don't worry, Garrett, you will be rich in a year's time. I mentally reassured my virtual cinnamon roll.

Greasy boy opened the pouch and let all its content fall into his table. He carefully counted the coins and then said, "You may pass. Follow the platform into the ship and my mate will take care of the rest," I honestly didn't know people in this particular medieval scenario could do simple math- I know I can't.

The three Hawkes managed to get pass the crowd and into the entrance of the ship, but instead of entering it, they waited. Waited for Aveline and me, I suppose. 

Then it hit me: I had absolutely no money, and apparently no one else had any to spare, which would make my situation pretty difficult. Something tells me I should stick around with following Hawke, though, I know that much. Meanwhile, the crowd grew restless and I wondered if I would be beaten up for taking so long to do this.

Aveline and I exchanged quick glances, and I automatically knew she didn't have much money as well, so, in mutual understanding, I nodded, allowing her to pay her part.

The ginger haired woman's pouch was bigger and heavier looking than Hawke's and I wondered why. I got my answer when Greasy boy started counting the coins and I realized the pouch was bigger because Aveline had more silvers and coppers, unlike Hawke who had just golden coins. "Everything set, you may go."

Green eyes connected with my blue ones for a second, but unlike the Hawkes, she remained by my side. I wonder why that is? Maybe she doesn't want to leave me alone with the crowd and Greasy boy? "How about you, girl?" Greasy boy asked, impatiently.

"I have a total of zero." I stared at him, losing my anxiety while faced with the situation. I began to concoct a plan B, and if there's something I'm good at is with plan Bs. "I suppose you wouldn't let me in if I asked you nicely?"

The man looked up at me, and practically ate me with his eyes, "No."

"How about I sing you a song? I'm an opera singer and I know many arias-"

"I only accept palpable items." The man's grin was outright predatory. Aveline took a step closer to me, as she fiddled with the pommel of her sword. 

But I am not scared- far from it in fact, "Haven't you heard that a well sung song is worth way more than a pile of gold?" 

"No, and I don't intend to." The man continued, as someone yelled something in the back, "I accept items though, any chance this necklace you're wearing is made of gold? 

"What necklace-" I reached for my neck and my fingers brushed against a thick metal chain- I don't remember putting that on. I traced the chain and found a pendant on it. It had a thick golden medallion as big as my eye with a golden Christian cross engraved beautifully, along with rose flowers adorning it. I knew that necklace, and I always wear it on religious occasions, I don't remember this dream being a religious occasion, however. "Oh, of course it's made of gold." I was given this item by my grandparents in the day I was born, and my parents insisted in my wearing it, because it was, indeed, made of gold. I'm not a religious person by any means, but that necklace was expensive, sentimental as well as extremely pretty. I've had this all my life, after all, "I...can't give you this," 

"That is such a shame- no Kirkwall for you, then," The man grunted, before looking at me from head to toes, I'd like to think he did so because he was surprised at my odd choice of clothing. I know, right, Minions are not for everyone, and only some people- like me, of course- can rock this look, "Unless," He grinned. Well, now I'm kinda freaked out, "If you prefer, we can go somewhere private, you are pretty enough-"

That's it. 

Does he think I'm a prostitute? For this? Holy shit, if I were to sell my body, it would be for something nicer than a ship ticket. Like a Nintendo Switch, for example.

Some voice in the back of my head keeps telling me to give my necklace in exchange for this opportunity to go to Kirkwall. I don't know...

Well, you know what, fuck it. This, this right here is a damn long dream, so why the fuck not? when I wake up I will look inside my jewelry box and see my necklace there, because, after all, I don't even remember putting it on in the first place. 

"Ew! Here, take the necklace." I said, quickly tucking my long brown braid to the side and quickly worked my way to the pin that held the necklace together. Removing it, I deposited the item in the man's greasy hands.

"What is this symbol?" He admired the golden pendant, as he held the necklace by the string and stared at the medallion. 

I thought for a second on how to reply, "It's...ah... An old Antivan symbol for... good luck. Yes, yes, good luck." I wasn't going to say it was a cross where a guy had been crucified to save everyone from their sins, because it would be weird, and even in dream, those people believe in the Maker, not in Jesus. "Such medallions are quite rare, as I understand."

Greasy boy then did something I definitely wasn't expecting. He bit the medallion and tried to bend it, with no success, obviously. The thing was made of gold, and might have cost a fortune, so it wouldn't simple bend. And here I am, selling it for the mere prize of 5 gold coins. In dream or not, it's not a good deal for me. "This necklace seems valuable enough- you may pass, girl," He then added, softly, so that no one would hear- but I did anyway, "Maybe if I give her this she won't want to leave me anymore."

That's so petty it hurts. 

Regardless of the pettiness of Greasy boy, I was now free to go to Kirkwall. Before he changed his mind, I followed Aveline to where the Hawkes were, and consequently, inside the ship.

I didn't look back. Neither did anyone.


As Greasy boy said, the ship left later that day. 

Well, it turns out that it was almost dusk when we showed up in Gwaren, and the lil ship left a couple of hours into the night. The boat was crappy and I thanked the superior government lizard people for the fact that I didn't have any kind of boat sickness, because damn this shit moves a lot.

And one thing I concluded early on: this trip wasn't worth my necklace. For many reasons, but mainly because we were packed in the hold of the ship- so many people in one place. 

The Hawkes, Aveline and I managed to secure a little spot at one of the far off corners of the hold, but it was far from comfortable. I was basically pressed against the wall made of wood, resting my head there, close to the rest. The hard wooden floor and the excessive human heat were making me dizzy. Not to mention the swinging of the ship. 

The only non-artificial light we had was the moon, that creeped into our dark hold from a metal grid on the ceiling, separating the people from the upper floor. I don't envy the sailors working topside, but it would be neat if we had some more space to breathe. 

I asked Hawke how long it would be until we got to Kirkwall, and he sighted before replying that it would take us about two weeks. Two weeks?! Shit. Thank goodness I'm bound to wake up soon.

I mentioned the moonlight was the only non-artificial light, because I used my phone to illuminate us a bit, so that Bethany could heal my hand with her magic- in secret, of course. I, being the skeptical soul I am, retorted and announced that magic didn't exist. Instead of turning her nose to me being an ass, the mage just smiled and told me to relax. Just like that, with a bippidi-boppidi-bitch, Bethany Hawke closed the open wound on the back of my pale hand. She was spooked by my phone, asked what it was, and I replied 'it's a phone, duh!'. She probably didn't understand what I meant, but asked no further questions, which I was glad.

Anyway, I was leaning against the wall, braiding my hair as I watched the others. Hawke was lost in his thoughts, Leandra was asleep, Aveline petted Summer and Bethany looked up to the grid, hopefully to see the night's sky.

There were many other people with us- hardly any spot where there wasn't a family. You can hear all sorts of sounds, like coughs, crying and other human sounds, you name it.

I was bored.

I thought about playing Morgan Freeman dress-up but I figured I wasn't in the mood for it. I then thought about practicing the latest song I've been studying, which is 'Frühlingsstimmen' which is a very famous piece of classical music by my hero Johann Strauss, but since the soprano voice is optional, it remains a bit in obscurity. The way the vocals capture the song is magnificent. I'm glad the director of the singing segment of the music’s department at my University chose me to perform this song in the recital in the end of the semester. In my many years of singing, I've encountered many beautiful and challenging songs, ranging from deep to sharp notes. However, few compare to the sheer beauty of this one. How can I say? It sings (pun 100% intended) to me in such a way. It's not my favorite however, but it's at my top 10, definitely.

Before I knew, I had started softly singing the first few verses, without even having done the correct voice warm-ups... This would make any professional singer cringe:

Die Lerche in blaue Höh entschwebt,

Der Tauwind weht so lau-

"For the love of the Maker, could you please stop!" Someone from somewhere shouted. THE FUCKING GALL!!!! WHO DARES INTERRUPT? I AM ONE OF THE GREATEST SINGING PROMISES OF MY GENERATION!!! WHO ARE YOU TO TELL ME TO STOP!

I instantly jolted my head up, searching for the owner of the voice, with no result, so I just yelled back, "Well, I'm sorry if you dream people can't appreciate good music even if it's handed to you in a silver platter!!"

Hawke chuckled lightly, amused by the situation, "I wouldn't keep singing if I were you- who knows if you'll wake up tomorrow with a knife on your neck- or wake up at all," 

I sighed, defeated, because I realized it isn't worth it to keep arguing with dream people. The only ones who need to know how amazing I am at singing are me, my voice teachers and the numerous professional critics who will undoubtedly watch my performances. I don't need to please them. 

Alright, I get it, I'm being obnoxious and people are getting jealous of my talent. This may surprise you but it happens a lot.

However that has nothing to do with Hawke. He is just being friendly, and as usual using humor to distract himself from thinking about his brother.

"I'll keep that in mind, thanks." I smiled back at the man.

"No problem." He replied, "Say, for 5 sovereigns one would expect a better voyage, right?"

"Tell me about it," It was my turn to giggle, "Had to give up my pretty necklace for this- well, I'd rather sell my soul, but unfortunately I don't have one anymore," I never had one, actually. And even if I did, Satan wouldn't want it because my soul would make him sad, to be honest. I'm an edgelord. I talk blasphemy and say Satan's name too many times for someone who got upset after trading their Christian cross necklace for a shabby boat ride. 

"That makes two of us," The man said. I had to keep my composure not to laugh with him- not at him, "However, you know that if we had anything to spare, we would help you,"

"I don't doubt it," And I really don't. Despite this Hawke being purple, he is a good person at heart, only a little mean at times but mostly good, "I'll miss you when I wake up, though," I smiled. Yeah, true. I don't know, but I feel like I've connected so much with this fictional character from my dreams in a time span of like a couple of hours than with most people I've met face-to-face. It is weird. I'm more lucid in this dream than I am normally. "You're quite rad,"

"Are you touched in the head or something?" This is getting awkward, because I'm real as fuck and my boy Hawke is just a manifestation of my unconscious and I'm talking to him.

"What? No! I'm just dreaming this all up, but it'll pass soon." I finished up the fishtail braid I was working on just in time to feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. When Hawke wasn't looking, I took a peek at it and I noticed that it was an unknown number calling. Not just this time, I had 6 missed calls from this random person, which is weird because I didn't feel it vibrate.

I don't know how it works in other places, but there is a way to block your number ID from the call identifier in Brazil, making the screen show only a ‘unknown number’ instead of the actual numbers. And this sneaky dream-person did just that. Which is weird. People only do that if they are calling to sell something or if they are calling from inside one of the many jails in the country, trying to trick you into giving them ransom money even if no one had been taken hostage.

If I were to guess, it would have been from jail. 

But why would someone from jail call me 7 times in a row? They normally give up after two or three attempts. This inmate seems pretty invested in trying to trick me, it seems.

Well, sometimes when those people try to call me, I like to pick up the call and then talk to them in a really weird manly voice. It usually scares them and amuses me to boot. If this dream fucker tries to call again I'll be more than prepared. 

"It just seems...odd to me that a singer from Antiva- out of all places- would somehow end up in Lothering in the middle of a Blight," Hawke continued making small talk, trying to fill the silence.

To perform in an opera with the required emotions, one needs to perfectly embody the role, and right now I'm embodying the role of everyday me, if I were blissfully unaware of the fact that this right here is a dream, "Extraordinary bad luck?"

"I was going to suggest just that," He scratched his beard, "You are quite alright, you know. You should stick with us for a while, as well as Aveline. I'm sure no one will object,"

Even though he is a creation of my mind, I can't help it but feel warm inside. He doesn't think I'm insufferable! "I'm flattered,"

"I'm just charming like that-," He started, but just as he did, my phone started to vibrate once again. I mentally patted myself in the back for turning off the sounds and only leaving the phone on vibrate, because it would have been kind of ridiculous if everyone here knew that my ringtone is in fact Smash Mouth's All Star. And before anyone asks, yes, it's definitely because of Shrek.

I'm going to pick it up this time, just for the LoLs, "It's my phone- excuse me... I'll be back in a sec," I made an effort to stand up quickly, and calmly dance my way into the back of the hold, (careful not to step in anyone sprawled on the floor) where I knew there was a flight of stairs, and beside it, a little storage door, (how do I know this? The thing is, I pay very close attention to our surroundings, and when we passed through the stairs, I noticed the door) where I'd hopefully would have more privacy and be able to shout. Because one thing that my hot Italian blood likes to do is shout, and I intend to honor my ancestors by doing just that. And by staying a bit away from the people, I can do it without objection. 

I had to dodge the sleeping people (almost stepping in some people in the process) before I actually was able to get to the flight of stairs. I ignored anything that could compromise my little operation and entered the small storage room. 

After I closed the wooden door behind me, I noticed that the room was dark as your mom's chesthair and full of barrels of what I assumed were stinky fish. Ew. Whatever-- I accommodated myself in between the barrels, my back leaning against one right across the door and planned my course of action. I was going to answer the phone with a fake voice, just to annoy the caller, "It'll show those stupid prison people not to mess with my dreams,"

Once I got there, I answered the call, "Hello?" They said, in English, for some reason. I'm going to reply using the deepest male voice I can make, and repeat everything the guy says. When I was a kid I would repeat everything my older sisters would say, just to annoy them, so now I'm using the same tactic. If it annoys my siblings, it will definitely annoy the prison guy.

"Hello?" I said back, pressing the device against my right ear.

"Is this Ms. Mayara Antonella Rosso Rossi?" A weird somewhat ethereal voice asked. I don't recognize the voice, which is not a good sign. And the fact that whoever is calling knows my name indicates that either this is a very elaborate scheme from guys in jail or some guy in telemarketing trying to sell me shit.

I continued with my plan of repeating what the other person said, "Is this Ms. Mayara Antonella Rosso Rossi?"

"Hello, it's me," Adele? Is that you?

"Hello, it's me," I raised an eyebrow. I'm honestly not understanding anything right now. The telemarketing or jail dude is clearly crazy or on some powerful drugs.

"Don't you remember our deal?"

"Don't you remember our- wait what?" I cursed myself for not being able to repeat everything and instead messing the plan up. I don't remember any deal, lest of all with a guy from prison. I know pretty well that getting involved with drug dealing is not for people who want to live long lives. I suppose the person in the line got the wrong number? But why would they know my name? Uggghhhh this is boring.

"Your little joke of repeating everything was amusing, I'll give you that," I live for my fans, of course. All future stars should be like this. I always reply to my fans on Twitter and Instagram, and when I get famous and rich I'll have people doing that for me, though.

Jokes aside, I'm pretty scared because this guy apparently knows who I am and I made a deal with him I don't even remember??? Might be a prank, but I don't have many friends in the first place, let alone any who would prank me? Who could it be? Well, guys in jails can also be pretty resourceful and found out who I am- not that any of this is real, mind you, "Go back to jail and selling some drugs for fuck's sake and leave me alone!"

"Dearest," The voice sighed, quite annoyed, "Stop shouting. You'll wake up the other people who also payed 5 sovereigns to be there," What now? How could this weird dream person know about that? "How do I know? I know everything about you- the youngest daughter of Anna Rosso and Artur Rossi, aspiring to fame in the opera world, soprano, your favorite opera is Carmen, but your favorite aria is Largo al Factotum-"

"Okay now, stop," This is creepy as fuck, even for a dream, "Who even are you?" Telemarketing from hell?

"I'm...what would you people call it? A friend. I helped you overcome that pesky dying you mortals have to deal with often,"

"Dying? Seriously dude what drugs are you on and where can I get some?" Dying? I'm still alive (unfortunately) as far as I know. And friend? I don't remember having friends in jail?

"Death, dear. You died, but with my help you are not dead anymore- in this world, anyhow."

I swapped my phone from my right ear to my left, "Care to elaborate?"

"Sure, everything for you, Mayara." The voice kept talking and I kept walking back and forth out of nervousness- the wooden floor cracking softly as my feet touched it, "Well, you- how you died is not important, but what is in fact important is to say is that you died, but before your soul could leave your body, I just had the time to propose a deal to you: you'd sell your soul in exchange of a second chance at life in another world of your choosing. Simple as that,"

I didn't say anything. Not that I didn't want to, because I wanted to tell this person to go fuck themselves in the ass with a pineapple. I just wanted to listen in a bit more. Nothing made sense. What a messed up dream. It was not like I had a soul to sell to even begin with. And even if I did I wouldn’t sell for it for this.

"But you still think this is a dream, yes? Even after cutting yourself? Aren't you a skeptical one? Let's not live in doubt any longer: if you yet don’t believe, watch as your flip-flops will get stuck on the floor in three seconds,"

Before I could react to that, the flip-flop in my left foot magically got it's front part stuck in one of the cracks in the wooden floor, barely missing my toes. Holy shit. "What kind of sorcery is this?"

"Ancient magic, my dear friend Flemeth mentioned that to you, as I recall."

"Stop! You're creeping my out! Leave me alone, creep!”

"Ahh, dear soprano, you can't end the call so abruptly! Didn't your parents teach you manners?"

"What do you want with me?"

"Good question! What do I want with you? Amusement! You make me laugh, which was why I proposed this deal for you."

"What kind of amusement?"

"Simply by you existing in this foreign yet so familiar world provides me with that." Suddenly I felt an urge to throw up, even if I hadn’t ingested anything. This doesn’t make sense, how would this magic phone guy know I would get my flip-flop stuck in between the wooden planks like that? "I'm a slut for the trope of a modern day girl learning how to live in a medieval scenario."

I had to keep trying to find out what the hell is going on in this shit, "Let's pretend I believe this made-up dream bullshit," I started, "Why did you call me?"

"I imagined you didn’t read the terms and conditions of our little arrangement, so I decided to ring you up just to remind you of them,” It’s so like me to not read the terms and conditions of a contract lol. The accuracy is painful. I squinted my eyes for a bit and was glad that no one showed up in this hallway, because if anyone did they would be creeped out by the scenario. Not that I’m not creeped out by this. Weirdly, as my phone rested on top of my ear, I felt it vibrate, as if I had just received a text, “I’ve just e-mailed you a copy of our agreement, for further consultation if need be, but knowing you as much as I do, I’m sure you’ll see it only once and completely forget about it,”

So this person is probably not from prison, but where are they from? Does this person seat in a bureau somewhere with headphones and a PC in front of them e-mailing shit to clients? Perish the thought.

“You’ve…e-mailed me…a copy of the contract I *signed* with you?” Who even uses e-mail anymore? I know I don’t, (even though the account is linked to my cheap phone, because I fear that if I try to remove it, it'll mess up my mobile) and my only e-mail address was the very embarrassing ‘' I used as a kid. I cringe just by thinking about it.

If they actually sent an e-mail to me with this deal I’d definitely like to look at it, so I decided I would open it and read everything throughout.

“Well, yes. I work like that. I don’t know how other deities perpetuate their deals but I’m practical and I enjoy having everything organized for future consultations.” The guy on the other line giggled lightly. I assumed it was a guy because I like working with genders and this caller seems like a man to me. Men are stupid as fuck. “Go on, check the message. I’ll wait.”

Holding the phone tightly in my trembling hands, I tentatively removed the mobile from its place in my left cheek so that I could open the e-mail. I got the notification of a new e-mail in the top of my screen and I clicked it. The system brought me right to the page and there I could see the message. Not paying attention to any other details, I opened it and there was nothing more than an attached file to it. No subject, no sending address, just one single attachment.

This is an open invitation for viruses, of course. But whatever my phone is shit already from all the illegal music I’ve downloaded so what’s another virus, right?

I opened the attachment and it was an official looking contract-thing. One would not expect a 19 year-old singer with as much life experience as a peeled plum would know an official-looking contract when she sees it, yes? But I know. And how do I know? Well, I’ve watched plenty of movies.


Under the Metro, State of São Paulo, Brazil

Revision 666


Soul Bill of Selling

I, Mayara Antonella Rosso Rossi, hereby sell, transfer and convey all rights, title, and ownership of the following described soul to Lucifer (the Devil), His Unholiest, Prince of Darkness, becoming soulless, in return for another chance in life because I've already fucked up once, inclusive of all sales tax, paid in the form of one of the following methods: the receipt and sufficiency of which is hereby acknowledged. This sum represents the mutually agreed upon purchase price of the soul, between both the Seller, Mayara and the Purchaser, Lucifer (the Devil), Prince of Darkness.


*Soul Information*

Name: Mayara Antonella Rosso Rossi, the greatest soprano to ever live;

Gender: Female

Age: 19

Price OR Traded Item: Another chance at life in another world;

Religious Affiliation: No religion (baptized Catholic, however);

Soul Purity: (mostly) clean;

Mean Annual Sin Rate (MASR): Chose not to inform (known only to the Devil);

Nation/State of Origin: São Paulo, Brazil;

Notes: ‘I'm such an edgelord that my soul will make even the Devil himself sad.’ Rossi, Mayara;

Soul Condition: Worth a lot to be honest.


*Seller Information*

Salutation: Ms.

First name: Mayara

Last name: Rossi

Cause of death: Trauma by being run over;

Address: São Paulo metro system, line 1-Blue, under cart L;

Telephone: 1234-5678



*Purchaser Information*

Salutation: Mr.

First name: Prince

Last name: of Darkness

Address: Pit of Eternal Damnation, 4th Floor, Hell;

Telephone: 6666-6666


*Additional Observations*

By signing this contract, the Seller also compromises with all the below listed set of rules and observations that should be followed by anyone and everyone who ventures in a new- already established- world:

  • By agreeing to this, the Seller compromises with not interfering with the final outcome of the story in any circumstances.
  • The Seller must not tell anyone about this contract, the deal itself or her status of soulless.
  • The characters must not be steered away from their designated paths, by the Seller or a third party, for it would cause immeasurable issues with the complexity of the multiverses. The Seller is, however, allowed to help said characters to achieve their goals, if she so desires.
  • The Seller is permitted to engage in rivalry, friendship or even romance with the people around her, comment on current events and live her life just like any other, person, for she is essentially part of that world, now.
  • As something that would personally amuse the Purchaser, the Seller has been granted with unlimited Internet connection on her phone, and may utilize it in any way she pleases, in accordance with the other rules, of course. However, the Seller doesn't need to bother trying to reach anyone in her previous world, for they will be permanently blocked and therefore unreacheable.
  • The Seller’s voice and singing abilities have not been altered.
  • Because of the Seller’s unusual circumstances of being ‘soulless’, she is more sensible to the Fade, thus becoming an easier target for demons and other creatures that would try and possess her body.
  • Magic has limited effect on the Seller due to observation VII.
  • If the Seller breaks any of the observations for any reason at all, the Purchaser shall forfeit her life and turn her in for an eternity of pain and suffering in the deep and darkest pit of Hell.
  • If the Purchaser finds that the Seller has been amusing enough and she had not broken any rules, he may grant her final peace when her body finally dies of natural causes (or not).


  1. Certification. The Seller certifies to the Purchaser, that the Seller is the legal and rightful owner of the soul and has full right and authority to convey the same.
  2. Seller’s DeclarationThe undersigned Seller agrees with her status of soulless and declares under penalty of perjury (and eternal torment in the bowels of Hell) that the statements herein contained are true and correct to the best of his or her knowledge, information and belief.
  3. Seller’s Acknowledgements. The undersigned Seller is fully aware that upon departure from the mortal coil their eternal afterlife will be spent in damnation in Deepest Hell Most Foul, the Eternal Inferno and Realm of Lucifer (the Devil), Prince of Darkness, unless if the terms of observation X are fully completed. The Seller will be subject to the sadistic and murderous whims of Satan and his minions, including but not limited to: eons boiling in a vat of human excrement, Sisyphusian boulder torture, and having one’s liver removed daily by a demonic vulture while chained to the side of a freezing, impossibly high crag.
  4. Purchaser’s Acknowledgements. The undersigned Purchaser accepts receipt of the soul described herein and understands and acknowledges that the soul is sold in “as is” condition without any guarantees or warranties of any kind, either express or implied.
  5. The undersigned Purchaser agrees to return the eternal soul of the Seller if and only if the Seller amuses him enough, as explicated in the observation X.
  6. Breach of Contract. Should the Seller attempt to unlawfully break the Bill of Sale agreement, their soul will be forfeit and subject to eons of unspeakable torture and violation before being jettisoned into eternal oblivion where the forsaken party shall be consumed by the fiery pits and face terrible things so unspeakable to be put into paper. Should the Purchaser attempt to break the Bill of Sale agreement, they will be subject to divine judgement and retribution.




I blinked in surprise as I finished reading. I didn't even think before doing it.

Bellow all that shit, there was my signature as well as Lucifer's, apparently?

What the fuck! Did I...sell my soul to the Devil? No, no, no. I wouldn't have done that. I don't believe in the Devil nor God not even Cthulhu. Why? A better question would be 'how'. Assuming that selling your soul is something one can actually do. 

I wouldn't have guessed that one would need a bill of sale to complete the deal. Not surprising however, since Satan has the best legal advisors and shit, because all lawyers in the world work for him (what? I thought it was common knowledge already). 

I chuckled, coming to the realization that this e-mail was beyond ridiculous. Someone actually had the time to create this shit and send it to me. The whole thing was too funny. I mean, the Devil's e-mail is itsyaboyprinceofdarkness@gmail? However the most hilarious thing is that my soul is considered 'clean'.

"Aren't you a crafty one, m8!" I said, mockingly, bringing my phone back to my ear, returning to my conversation with the creepy guy, "You literally created a bill of sale and sent me. You, my boy, have too much free time on your hands. You need a hobby,"

"I actually used a template from a site I was simple, just fill in the blanks with the information and sign in a membership program for $29,99- why am I even telling you this!? You already know you sold your soul!" I didn't know you had those kinds of helpful templates. The more you know. 

"I don't remember that, but whatever. It was funny."

"I am not funny!" The guy's ethereal voice cracked as he lost his patience with me. Ooooh someone is pissed. "I am the prince of darkness! The morning star! The fallen angel!"

"And I'm Groot," I was holding myself not to laugh at this person, who I just now I realized that had some kind of superiority complex and think they can be Satan and shit. The real Satan (if he even exists, of course) would obliterate this shabby wannabe person.

"If you wanted to be Groot, you should've told me before I brought you to this mediocre fictional world. Honestly, you could have done better, Mayara."

"Who the fuck do you think you are to talk shit about Dragon Age like that? It's one of the best RPG franchises in the history of ever."

"I'm the rightful owner of your soul! You shall respect and fear me!" I stopped talking for a second and didn't reply to that.

You know that little voice in the back of your head that tells you to stop and get away from creepy people? Mine was throwing a tantrum and singing the anthem of the Soviet Union in hopes of making me hang up the phone.

"Alright, I think it's time to stop, you've wasted a lot of my dream-time already," I finally said, after some seconds of awkward silence, "I'm going to wake up soon, so all this is pretty much pointless."

"I'm quoting my friend Flemeth here: 'only a fool doubts what's right in front of him' (or her, in this case)," He said and I rolled my eyes, because it was ridiculous, "I know you just rolled your eyes, and that is not very polite," What? "Ah, you still believe this is a dream. Let me clear that out for you with a video."

A video? Clear out that I'm not dreaming? But that is not possible. I am dreaming. I will wake up soon and continue on with living my life wishing I was somewhere else, a feeling that only goes away when I sing. I'm a skeptical little shit, so let's see what this person brings to the table, yes? I want to see what else my mind can come up with, "Sure, show us what you've got,"

Like before with the e-mail with the bill of sale, I felt my phone vibrate again, but this time, instead of an e-mail, it was a text. From an unknown number again. I opened it and saw a 2 MB video archive, which I opened in a blink of an eye.

The video was of very poor quality, as if made by a 1998 security camera, but I could make out what was going on. It started with a crowded platform in the São Paulo metro (I recognized that specific station as the one I always take the metro to University), and I could see the hour and date in the corner- 06 of February, 06:12 a.m. 

Only the left platform was visible, and the people were pushing each other around, in hopes of being's the first to enter the train, securing a place. The train had no signs of coming yet, for the tunnel was pitch black. Those little people were so cute, and definitely didn't seem like they could murder each other in seconds. Watching those images gave me a weird feeling of nostalgia, because that was exactly what I did everyday in the morning. I could almost imagine myself there, in the platform, waiting for the train- 


Examining a bit more, I noticed something creepy.

That girl on the very edge of the platform, being pushed around by bigger people looks awfully like me, and she has the same neon green backpack I own and use to go to University.

I felt shivers coming through my spine, and the hairs on the back of my neck rose up.

I continued watching as a light on the end of the tunnel showed up, indicating that the train was close. My eyes followed the girl closely, as she struggled not to get pushed so much and fall into the gap. I mentally told the girl to watch out, and to get the fuck out of there, but as the train approached, the girl lost her balance and--

--she fell. 

I turned my gaze away from the video, already imagining the result. 

Suddenly, everything came back to my mind, and in a flash of memory, I remembered that the events in the video had happened, and that the girl- I- had met my ultimate and untimely demise. I remembered being pushed, then falling, then the sheer force of the train hitting my head and in the end, everything went black and cold, like the grave.

In other words: I died.

I died, I am now dead, and that creepy guy on the phone should be...

The Devil aka Satan aka Prince of Darkness.

As odd as this sounds, it makes some sense. Not complete sense, but some sense. 

I remembered falling, and that falling was falling from the metro platform, and the deal with the shady man...was the deal with the Devil so I could keep on living in another world. The bill of sale was the final proof.

The man in the other side of the line definitely wasn't from any type of telemarketing. Or even from jail somewhere. Oh goody gosh.

I brought my phone back to my ear, and said, tentatively, almost in a whisper, " are the Devil, aren't you?" 

"Such a clever observation, Mayara." He snickered. I gulped and steadied myself. I am strong. That explains why he was speaking English, at least, "Now, dear, you have all your answers and I've already accomplished what I intended, so you are on your own now beijos de luz, linda, [kisses of light, cutie]" 

This Demon asshole is not going to hang up on me.

"Don't hang up!" I yelled, desperately, as I understood that the man would hang up on me and leave me here. I have so many more questions! Like why didn't I sell my soul for something else and how can I even survive this place!? How does he know Flemeth? How did she know I was here? People can actually sell their souls now, apparently? "Puta que me pariu trinta vezes!![whore that gave birth to me thirty times!]"

But it was no use, for I heard the beeps my phone made, signaling Satan had hung up on me. The fucking irony. I was going to be the one to hang up on him.

I took a deep breath. Allowing everything that just happened to sink in, before I do anything harsh. The lone light from my phone in the room went off and I didn't move an inch. Just sat there in the dark. Oddly enough, the darkness all around me made my anxious self a bit calmer. Like the tight embrace and sweet release of death, ironically.

I sold my soul to the Devil. I can't believe I was that royally stupid. Well, I had to think on my feet and did the best I could in the situation. But that doesn't change what happened. I tried to process everything but it was too much.

I died. I lost everything.

Even my soul. Literally. I know I always joke about that but it's different to feel that emptiness inside me that wasn't there before. Sure, I was pretty much dead inside but I just said that because it helped me. Now it's completely different and much scarier.

Breathe, Mayara.

Instead of breathing, I ended up starting to cry. Like in movies, I leaned against the wooden barrel of fish and sled down more crying, my phone in hands.

I can't believe this is happening.


No, no, no. This is all just a bad dream, all a bad dream. I didn't die, I'll wake up feeling sick  and hug my little dog Canela {Cinnamon} and he will lick my tears away. Then I'll rush into my parents room and embrace them tightly so that the feeling will go away.

I kept telling myself it was not real, but it was real. Too real.

I cursed myself mentally in the darkness of the storage room for a while, and even cursed myself verbally- in my very colorful language- until I heard a knock on the door, which I definitely wasn't expecting. I wondered who it could be, some guy who works for the Greasy guy from before, but I wondered about that for just like a second, because I remembered I don't fucking care about anything anymore.

"Mayara?" A deep and very well known male voice called out, as he continued to bang the door. Hawke. How the fuck he found me here? I thought this place was supposed to be out of view? 

Oh damn how am I going to face him again? I literally told him he was a dream. He must think I'm raving mad. Which is not entirely false, but that's not my point. How am I going to keep going on with this now that I'm stuck here? How will cope with being forbidden to talk about my situation without being doomed to an eternity of pain and suffering by the hands of the Devil? I'm shit at keeping secrets. How am I expected to do so with such crucial information????

I made up my mind and said, "Go away and leave me to my misery!" I don't want to talk. I just want it all to go away. Or maybe cry myself to numbness. It works too.

"I can't do that," the man disregarded the fact that I told him to get out, because he simply turned the doorknob and entered the dark room, slowly, "Just what are you doing there? I hope that you are not trying to summon any demons-- Why is it all dark in here?" I heard Hawke sniff around, as I did when I first entered, "Ew! Is that fish?" The light coming from outside illuminated the room just enough so I could see his face, and he could see mine.

"Please, let me be." Let me cry about the fact that I'm dead, I'm soulness and I have no idea what to do next.

"People are complaining about the noise and I have no idea who told them I was the one to complain to when you started yelling by yourself but- oh," He noticed I was crying, "Why are you crying? Did you get hurt in the tossing and turning of this damn ship? It's bound to get worse when we reach the Waking Sea."

"I just... Can't believe this is real. But it is. Makes sense?" He shook his head in denial, and I keep on, "Don't know what to do," I sniffed loudly, as Hawke kneeled beside me, and looked at my face with a worried yet stern expression, "I lost everything," The contract said I couldn't tell anyone about the deal. Why am I even believing this? Well, the fact that I'm dead and in Thedas seemed real enough. 

"Hush...We all did," 

I started rambling in Portuguese, between my tears, so fast that not even I was understanding what I was saying anymore. Poor Hawke stared at me like I was being exorcised. Not too far from the truth, ironically enough. "Hey, hey, let's go a bit slower, yes?" He asked me, and I swaped back to English.

"You don't understand!" It hurt. I wanted to tell him everything that just happened but I knew I couldn't. My heart felt like exploding out of my chest. It hurt so much that I couldn't talk. But I didn't want him to go. Not really. I was glad he didn't leave when I asked him to do so. Hawke is quite comforting. I tried to say something, but the words were stuck in my throat, unsaid. 

"I'm terrible at this," He started, trying to say something that would maybe help. should be the one helping him. He lost his brother and I--- I can't believe I was glad Carver died. Because I was certain it wasn't real. But it was. I feel so much worse now, "Well... Ehrr... I don't need to understand you to try to make you feel better." You really don't understand, and you never will. I want to tell you everything, Hawke, but I cannot. I don't want to be dragged into an eternity of pain and suffering at the sadistic hands of Satan, "Everything will be fine, alright?" 

I shrugged,  "That was literally the most clichè thing you could ever say in this situation," I'm awful, I know.

"What do you want me to say? That we are all going to meet the sweet release of death soon? Well, that is too bad because I've run out of poetic ways to say I wish I were dead." I looked at him surprised, and he looked back at me, raising an eyebrow. After a second of contemplation silence, both of us chuckled at what he had said, because it was probably true for him, and it was for me as well, "See? Not that bad. Let's go back to the others. Summer will lick your whole face and you will feel better in no time." The rogue stood up and helped me back on my feet, "The bigger the hound, the gooder the boy, as they say,"

I'm dead both inside and out, but now I have a new and fresh chance at life- maybe it could be worse. Considering my shit luck, it definitely could.

And just like that, Hawke helped me through the worst of the trip, the best way possible: making me laugh through the tears.