Tales of a Child Eternal [NSFW]

[Helene Dakesh]

Helene winces, shaking their head. They reach for their sketchbook, flipping it open and turning to a page: a small child hunches, hands over ears, while a large, aggressive dog barks. The bark is portrayed as a series of jagged, angry lines, surrounding the child, pressing in on them, filling the available whitespace. 

[Tethras Clan]

"He... was too loud? Is noise bad when you're... not able to talk?" Zevran asks gently.

[Helene Dakesh]

Helene nods, rubbing their left earlobe gently. "Sensitive." Always sensitive, but it's particularly hard to bear when they're already overloaded. 

[Tethras Clan]

"But soft, soothing talk is okay? Like what I did? That... seemed to help?" he asks tentatively.

[Helene Dakesh]

Helene nods again. "Words are hard," they manage, sentences coming easier now that they've started thinking that way, started putting their feelings into words again.

[Tethras Clan]

"It's hard for you to find the words you want, in order to talk to people?" Zevran nods slowly, having seen similar in abused and traumatized slaves. Clearly a different reason, but the behavior is somewhat familiar.

[Helene Dakesh]

Helene nods again, too tired to try and find words to explain how sometimes there aren't any words, how under the latticework of words there is a soothing, comfortable space where there aren't any, where images and feelings exist in their raw state, unlabeled and unspoken, how sometimes the latticework cracks like spun sugar candy and only the raw feelings remain, how the art of spinning words out of images and feelings is the hardest part of prophecy. Hard to find words isn't wrong, exactly, so they let it stand. 

[Tethras Clan]

"Alright," Zevran says gently. "Is there anything else we can do or not do that helps?"

[Helene Dakesh]

They shake their head; after a moment, however, they flip through the sketchbook again. They go back a number of pages; when they find a painstaking drawing of a falcon, they tap the image twice, then look up at Zevran again. 

[Tethras Clan]

"Fal- ah, you're worried about Hawke?" Zevran sighs a little. "She is... she is going to have a long, hard recovery," the merikos drow admits. "Varric is taking her to the SummerHill annex, away from the city. Most of us plan to go- you are welcome as well, of course. I need a few more days to tie up affairs here, but I will be following shortly, if you wish to travel with me. Or you can leave tomorrow with Varric and Hawke. And Merrill, Silence and Anders."

[Helene Dakesh]

Helene looks down at the sketchbook, weighing their options. Finally, they nod, and say quietly, "with Varric."

[Tethras Clan]

"Can I talk to him? Tell him what to do in case this happens again? Or do you wish to do so?"

[Helene Dakesh]

Helene nods, tapping Zevran's hand. "Thank you," they manage, a moment later. It is important to be polite.

[Tethras Clan]

"I'm glad I can help." Especially after feeling so useless these last six months. And even more the last few days. "I am always pleased to be able to help my loved ones."

[Helene Dakesh]

There had been one other thing recovered from the tunnels under the Ciren quarter, tucked under the little wooden bed Tamika had been using during her captivity: a metal lock-box, locked with an elaborate puzzle, tarnished with age. As their fingers slid the pieces back and forth, watching the different shapes the engraved bits could make, something nagged at Helene, something almost familiar. Something they couldn't place, but something they almost remembered.

It was a common feeling here in Drasslina. They would turn down the wrong street on autopilot, or smell a food that nagged at something in the back of their mind. With a city this size, and with this many tourists flowing through the place year after year, it was inevitable that some things would remind them of Dakesh, and yet, nothing had called to them as strongly as this lockbox. They had hidden it away in their chambers, determined to crack the mystery.

Closing their eyes, they slid the pieces by feel, refusing to think about what they were doing -- just letting their fingers guide them in what felt like the right pattern. It wasn't exactly first try, but before too long, they heard and felt a familiar click.

Inside lay a journal, worn with age, full of writing in an unfamiliar hand. Helene's breath caught in their throat. Dakesh.


I have hidden the latest set under the streets of Nyra, the journal read. You shan't guess where. It's really quite ingenious. Dogsbody was appalled, and for good reason. Ah well, off tomorrow, best get some sleep.

Helene's fingers traced the sentence over and over again. What was here for them, after all? What could they learn about Alydra that they didn't already know? What could they do here that they couldn't do anywhere?

The next morning, they turned up at the Temple of Alydra, asking for a job as a clerk. "This one is saving funds for a journey to Nyra," they announced firmly. "The next stage of this one's life begins there."