War and Tranquility

ten

She followed in his bare footprints. Rihari couldn't imagine that would be comfortable in all this mud and muck, but he didn't seem effected by this in the least.

It started to rain. At first a lazy drizzle, and then fat drops rocketed towards the ground in a hurry to meet the ground. Solas tugged his wrap up to cover his head, still aching from the overindulgence of alcohol.

So they didn't find Harea. Of course they didn't. Spirits that powerful aren't found, they find you. Solas knew this, but had came anyway.

They were approaching a crossroads, the same one they had come across on their way in, but now the strange rock held a different mystique. One of himself, and that was not a mystery he wanted to delve into.

He reached inside his backpack and tugged out a dusty bottle of brown liquor. Raindrops pelted the old glass, smearing the dust in streaks as he popped it open and took a swig.

He winced, then coughed, then winced again. It was a truly terrible brew, whatever it was. He took another gulp and then pushed the cork back in and shoved it back in his pack. Little hair of the dog, he joked to himself.

"We should be back by nightfall."

Solas cringed at her voice, he had almost forgotten that she was behind him. He felt his cheeks flash red hot with embarrassment. Deep breath.  She doesnt care if you become an alcoholic, she doesn't care about you at all. She can't.

He remembered the kiss once more, shuddered and pushed it away. "We should, yes."

He started off again, passing the rock. He could feel the prod of spirits as they shoved against the confines of the rock, begging in distant screams to taste the power. He could feel their feeble attempts to reach out, to touch him. They screamed in agony as they writhed against each other and against the confines of their stony prison.

He stopped a few feet after passing, cocking his head to the side as a single voice peirced out into his mind. It's voice a serene lullaby, in contrast to the otherwise harsh screams of the demons that clamored to sample his breath.

The voice seized his muscles as it breathed out a song, soft and melodic, the words tickled his ears. Realization dawned. It was his mother, or her voice at least.

After all this time, her voice sounded the same. He could almost feel her soft hands on his cheek as she whispered a song so sweet it lulled him to sleep.

"No." He snarled. It wasn't her. She was far, so far, removed from some disgustingly mediocre swamp. Unless..

"Hmm?" The sound of her voice jolted him from his trance.

"Shh!" He silenced her with a wave of his hand and she fell silent again. His ears pricked against the sounds of the spirits as he held his breath, waiting, wishing, that he would hear her again, but all he heard were the spirits.

His breath came out slowly and he continued his stride, pretending this small inconsistentcy didn't bother him in the least. The cries of the spirits slowly faded away the further he got. He sucked in another big breath, and another. Each one felt heavy with the humidity of the swamp, and he found it hard to get his fill now that he had held it for a few moments.

After a few moments he was able to get the rhythm right again and picked up his pace.

"Do you think I will ever be normal again?"

He stopped in his tracks, his breath caught roughly in his throat and he coughed, the breath he had finally just captured strangling him. He turned to face her. "Why would you care?" He asked, then after a moment of staring at the mark between her eyes, his eyes began to burn and he turned away. A different emotion replacing his sudden anger; pity, longing.  "I hope so."