The Amell Legacy: Transgressions

[Haliel Lightsong]

''Oh.'' Lightsong blushes again, somehow more touched by that simple pair of compliments than the odes and heaps of praise she has gotten in the past. ''Thank you. And, yes, I can sing, though not nearly as well as my Father.''

[Marian Hawke]

"Your name fits too," says Marian, looking down at the little bread frying on the griddle. Just like mine: Marian Hawke la'Amell, bastard elf, worthless gutter trash. A sea of bitter sorrows. "I like it."

[Haliel Lightsong]

''I like your name too. Marian... it sounds like merry and marry. It sounds... hopeful,'' Lightsong say softly, gaze on Marian. You're so sad... So very alone and without purpose.  Something firms inside the paladin and she nods a little. I will help you. I will help you smile.

I... I have no idea how to do that. Oh dear.

[Helene Dakesh]

Helene who was Dakesh, Oracle of Alydra, had woken in a cell.

It was meant to be accomodations, and to be fair, it was considered luxury -- the best accomodations for their star pupile. The heavy iron bed was bolted to the ground, and the closet had no door, letting a guard see through the barred window into every corner of the cell, but there was a little desk, also bolted to the floor and wall, which most patients did not have. The bed was larger, as well, not that the little Samsaran needed much room. There was a rug, and a barred window overlooking the garden. Luxury.

Helene had dressed in the outfits provided: dresses, always dresses, this one with pleats and stockings and a bow for her hair. Helene had eaten the porridge at breakfast without complaint, and had gone to the morning session.

'Why do we bother? She doesn't get better; if it were working on her, she'd be cured and stay out.'

'Helene is one of our star pupils. She just needs reminders from time to time.'

"Introduce yourself," Seeker Levi had said.

"Th-this one is H-He-"

"No." A sharp word, a sharp slap to the arm. "Say, 'I am Helene Dakesh'"

"This one--"

"No." Another slap. The words were getting jumbled, Helene's tongue feeling heavy and thick in her mouth.

"I am Helene Dakesh." The words felt like lead on her tongue, falling out of her, an echo of what was said, not connected to her feelings. I want to go home. I want this to stop. Those words were bad words, not to be said.

"Good." A pet to the head, her hair stroked gently. Don't touch me was bad words. Stay away were bad words too. Helene says nothing.

"Look into my eyes and introduce yourself."

Helene forced the unnatural eye contact, flinching away briefly. "This one--"

Another slap. "Say, I am Helene Dakesh. It is nice to meet you."

Helene knew well what would happen if she failed, if she were 'defiant'. She wanted to go home. So, gathering as much courage as she could, she lifted her head, letting her eyes fall on the face of Seeker Levi, blanking them, not letting what they see reach her soul, tucked away deep in a secret chamber of the fleshy prison her body had become. "I am Helene Dakesh. It is nice to meet you."

"Good. Now, this time, curtsey while you introduce yourself."


The words were gone by the time Helene was released to the play room. The words were gone, the sensation of the skin far away, like the world was veiled by a heavy curtain. Helene's motions were sluggish, the eyes focusing on nothing at all.

There was the newcomer again, the dwarf. The newcomer hadn't hit Helene yet. On instinct, Helene moves to sit beside him on the floor, the two Seekers assigned to monitor them stopping to chat nearby.

"I am Helene Dakesh. It is nice to meet you." The words were remote, faraway, empty of tone. Helene did not make eye contact. That was Bad, but the Seeker was distracted, did not see. Helene did not curtsey, but sat neatly on the floor, legs folded under the skirt, like a Good Girl, hands folded, still, quiet. Everything still, quiet.

[Varric]

The dwarf glances over, expression grave and bland. ''Varric of Clan FaKeads. Pleasure to met you, Seeker.'' Tiny rebellions, tiny victories. Just until I can set this prison on fire. No gods be damned right to- Focus, dumbass. Star Pupil Seeker Helene might be just another inmate or she could be a snoop. Contrary to Helene, Varric is lounging, posture deliberately slanted. Not enough that he looks abnormal, just... not proper. And hidden from the watchers, though not Helene, he silently taps a finger.

[Helene Dakesh]

Helene trembles faintly, an expression he knows well: the urge to rock, being repressed, denied expression. Helene opens her mouth, but the words don't come; the next bit of the script isn't fresh, is more loose, more free-form. No words, today, except the scripts they put in her mouth, make her speak like a puppet. 

The right hand twitches. Helene glances down at it, willing it still. Spies the finger. Helene mouths, 'quiet hands', but does not speak, does not give voice.

"I am Helene Dakesh," she repeats. Then, in a fit of inspiration, "Pleasure to meet you," she repeats.

[Varric]

His eyes narrow and a slight frown forms. ''Yeah... pleasure to met you,'' he repeats, lips twisting a little. Gods, her brain is fried, isn't it? Damned butchers is what they are. Seekers my arse, this is a temple of ol'Sharp and Rusty if there ever was one. ''H-ow long have you been a patient here?'' Short, simple answers. That seems to help most of the poor blighters here. Direct questions with short, simple answers.

[Helene Dakesh]

Helene shifts, uncomfortable, her whole body feeling...wrong. The rough fabric from the dress -- they told her it was fine linen but it felt rough against her skin, unpleasant. The strange, tight feeling of hair pulled back into a plait rather than left loose. The urge to rock, repressed. The urge to flap, repressed. The urge to write, to record every bit of her experience -- but the sketchbook had been taken away, to be earned back when she did not fight any longer.

"This one is a Seeker," she whispers, shame lowering her voice. The words are wrong. Use the right words. She flinches, expecting pain, but Seeker Levi is still distracted, still speaking to the other Seeker. 

"This one lives nearby. This one is s-studying divergences. Cultural d-divergences. This one--"

But that's wrong too. This one is a patient now. This one lost study privileges. 

[Varric]

''I know,'' Varric says softly, voice low and gentle. Was a bit taken aback. Heard about Seeker Helene-who-was-once-Dakesh (think that's how you put it), but they left out the little girl part. Rapid development? Or curse, maybe magical accident? Heard of weirder... ''Heard about you. Hoping to read your treatise on kender tribal exchange as they shifted from migrating after herd animals towards a more mercantile, caravan based lifestyle.''

[Helene Dakesh]

Relief washes over Helene then, and the words come flooding back. She comes to life then, hands lifting to gesture, looking more directly at him. "Yes. The shift in linguistics is the most interesting piece, the changing of pronouns for animals from sentience-pronouns to object-pronouns as they shifted from a cohabitation situation to a mercantile situation."

The words flow out, sentences, paragraphs, complex theories and cross-references, all from memory. Not once does she refer to herself, in any way. Not once does she ask for input. Just speaks, letting the information bottled up in her head flow free.

Seeker Levi comes over, then, frowning, and Helene stops speaking abruptly. "Are you dominating the conversation again, Helene?"

Helene looks away, eyes dull, unresponsive.

[Varric]

''Not a conversation,'' Varric says blandly as he leans back to look at the intruder ''It was a lecture. Interrupting the speaker as you did is considered very rude you know. Abnormal behavior in fact. You should apologize.''

[GamesMaster]

Seeker Levi glances to Seeker Renaud, Varric's minder. Levi was a large human man, but he was gentler, his tone softer; Renaud was a merikos goblin, a small, twisted man, and his mind was uglier than his face. 

Renaud smirks, reaching for the wand he keeps on his person. A second later, pain wracks through Varric -- a familar sensation, since he arrived here. "No," says Renaud firmly. "No backtalk."

Levi nods. "Helene, ask Varric about his day."

Helene swallows, the words vanishing as soon as they reach for them. Levi slaps Helene then, without warning, a firm, sharp slap. "Ask Varric about his day."

[Varric]

''It was great until- urrk- these two ass- urrrrr- holes keep interrupting my very nice- fucker!- personal lecture with a brillant-'' Varric finally has to stop after the fifth touch of the pain wand, hunching a little to ride the pain out. I swear by my ancestors, I will kill you with that wand one day.

[Helene Dakesh]

Please, stop! Helene's mind whimpers. Just do as they say. The pain will stop. Do what they want and the pain will stop (do what they want or they'll hurt you) do what they say and it will go well (do as they say or they'll hurt you) Don't make them hurt you (captors).

Helene lets out a low moan, and Levi slaps them again, harder this time. "Helene! Use words."

"No," Helene whimpers, earning another slap. 

"Use. Words."

I did! I just did! "Please," whispers Helene instead.

Levi nods, then, stroking Helene's hair. "Come on. You're overstimulated. Let's get you to your room for a nap."

But they're hurting him! Helene whimpers, but Helene is small, frail, and Levi large, and firm. Helene isn't given a choice.

[GamesMaster]

Dinner was a particular torment. 

Afterward, however, when he was locked in his cell, when the Seekers left him alone and the guards only came by once an hour, it was almost pleasant. He was still sore, of course. They'd gone heavier on the wand today, threatening him with loss of further privileges -- threatening him with total isolation, on top of reduced food and leisure time. It didn't matter. He could still wait them out long enough to get back to his cell, where after sunset -- when the sun didn't highlight how painfully white the walls were -- it was cool and dark and comfortable for those used to underground living.

Tonight, something different was happening. The guard had just come by to check on him, wasn't due for another fifty minutes, yet somehow, there was a scrabbling at the locked door. Was someone coming for him?