Imprints in Stone [AU]

[Tethras Clan]

There are as many ways to help someone out of a nightmare as there are people having them- more than that really. The one Zevran goes for is to toss a handful of water in the girl's face. "You are free. The demon is dead. The collar is off. You are yourself once more."

[Marian Hawke]

It freezes as soon as it touches her skin, and she bursts into sobs, hugging her knees and rocking back and forth. 

[Tethras Clan]

Unexpected... Interesting, but unexpected. Some kind of magical talent, untrained but lashing out? "Hush now," he says gently. "Hush now. It's okay, you're safe. The demon is dead, the gem destroyed. You're safe."

[Marian Hawke]

"It's not, I'm not, it will come for me, I," she chokes off, shuddering.

[Tethras Clan]

"No it won't. We killed it, ma'bela and I. Demons are sent back to their hells for lifetimes after being killed here, everyone knows that." Not sure 'whose' lifetimes, exactly, but it hardly matters, now does it, not for us. "You're safe, little one."

[Marian Hawke]

Safe. The word barely seems to have meaning: for so long, 'safe' has meant only 'safe for now'. Anything else remains a distant memory, buried under a pile of regret.


In the daylight, they get a better look at her. Her dark hair contains streaks and swirls, the night sky made manifest; her face and arms are scarred, marked with abstract swirls of tattoo, and she's missing the little finger on her left hand. Her ears, nose, and lip are pierced, though the nosering is missing; her ears are pierced repeatedly and asymmetrically, and her canine teeth have been filed into fangs, her nails into points. She would look fearsome, if her eyes weren't so broken and lost.

They have plenty of time to examine her up close: she refuses to leave the tent. The daylight hurts her eyes, drives her back inside in fear. 

[Tethras Clan]

"We need to get her to a healer. A good one, a kind one," Zevran murmurs softly in auran. He and Isabela are just outside the tent, the flap open enough that they can just see one of the girl's legs. "She needs as many of her scars and wounds taken care of so she can heal clean."

[Isabela]

Isabela nods. "I agree. It's... what I did was... I don't expect anyone else to be able to follow the path I forged. She'll need care, and I doubt if she has any money for it, but what else can we do?"

[Tethras Clan]

Zevran winces, a pang of guilt stabbing him at Isabela's words. Seeing her, seeing the amazing woman she's made herself into, had greatly lessened the guilt and regret he'd carried for years after leaving her but there's still that echo of it left. "Quite so. Unless you know someone, then Sweetwater is the closest city-state. They're mostly Valshathe there but I'm sure we can find some kindly Bastionites."

[Isabela]

Isabela nods slowly. "I've heard of places in Glaley that take in... it's just, mental trauma is difficult than physical trauma. For mental trauma, you either want the Alydrans in Drasslina, or there's a place in Glaley. Both are state-of-the-art, I'm told." I couldn't go in, couldn't bring myself to ask for help.

[Tethras Clan]

Zevran purses his lips, not being overly fond of Glaley. "Draslina would have Bastions for her body and Aldyrans for her mind," he says slowly. "No, it's too far to wait. We should find a local healer to at least address her body, then poke around for transport."

[Isabela]

Isabela nods. "That finger will be expensive. We'll need to pull at least one job on the way if we're to pay for it all. Any luck with her name? I tried to get it out of her, but I suspect the demon threatened her family, so..."

[Tethras Clan]

"Possibly starts with an 'm' or 'n' but she could have been moaning," Zevran replies with a shake of his head. "I was thinking perhaps asking if she would not mind a nickname."

[Isabela]

Isabela nods, thinking of Nyra. "I wonder if she'd object to 'Beth'?"

End of Act 1

[Carver Amell]

Carver's first birthday present is given to him just after midnight -- which is why he's late for breakfast, coming downstairs with his hair still uncombed and Merrill clinging too tightly to his hand. "Happy birthday, Beth," he says anyway, smiling at her as if he wasn't late.