Merrill doesn't believe in shoes (little_elf_lost) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-09-06 08:25:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, bethany hawke, frodo baggins, merrill |
Who: Frodo, Merrill, and Bethany
What: Bethany comes to heal Merrill
When: Wednesday Morning, right after this log.
Where: Merrill's Home
Ratings/Warnings: R for Not so Glossy Descriptions of Injuries and Blood
Status: Complete
Merrill was sitting on the edge of her bed, her forearms resting on her lap. She looked down at her cuts, a bit dazed. She half-listened as Frodo talked to Bethany over the phone. “Is she coming?” she asked. She found herself hoping Bethany wouldn’t bring Hawke. She’d managed to stay relatively calm up until that thought. “I don’t want Hawke,” she told him, vaguely aware that he’d already hung up the phone, so there was little to be done now.
Frodo nodded a quick bobbing motion. “She’s coming.”
Bethany hadn't called Hawke, because something told her if Merrill wanted to see her sister she would have called her. This mirror thing struck a worrisome chord in Bethany and she wanted to see for herself before she brought anything else in.
She didn't drive, normally, but she borrowed Carver's car anyway, and managed to make it to Merrill's without any major incidents. She wrapped on the door with her staff, feeling silly in sweat pants and a hoodie with a mage staff.
The normally bright, cozy suburban home was cold and dark. The light from the kitchen filtered into the living room. In the corner, the eluvian stood, smeared with blood. There was also a pool of dark blood on the carpet in front of it, and a thin trail leading to the kitchen, then a few drops led back across to the bedroom.
Merrill wasn’t sure she could make it to the door. She knew Frodo didn’t want to leave her side, but someone needed to let Bethy in. Merrill waited in the bedroom, trying to push away thoughts of the eluvian.
Bethany waited, leaning on her staff as mages typically did since time immemorial. It was something that was second nature to her - with one or two gaps, her memories were complete. She wondered if this mirror would be one. She was certain her sister knew more - she would have to ask, some other time. Right now her friend needed her healing.
She rapped on the door again.
All of those raps were necessary to get Frodo from the bedroom to the front door. He opened it and was somewhat surprised to see such a simply dressed woman, and one so young. Then again, he was not sure what he ought to have expected. “Bethany?” he asked.
The staff was a convincing detail, though, and he ushered her inside, even before she confirmed who she was. Time was not their friend at the moment. “I’m Frodo,” he said. “Merrill’s in her bedroom.”
"I'm Bethany," She replied, in that odd accent between Bostonian and Ferelden. Ferelden sounded oddly English, which only made it stranger. She thought before long she'd sound completely British. She pushed her hood back, dark hair pouring down her back.
She summoned up as much authority as she could, and for a moment her eyes took on an eerie grey glow. Not of the mage, but of the Gray Warden she'd become, "Lead on."
The glow that flashed in her eyes was startling at worst. Frodo was well into a state of mind that would not allow himself to be distracted by anything. And although he was de facto helpless to fix any of this himself, he could scarcely remember a time when he had felt a greater sense of purpose. He was also grateful she seemed eager to get straight to it. He walked with Bethany back into the bedroom.
“Bethy?” Merrill called weakly, looking up. Bethany didn’t appear in Merrill’s dreams; she’d died before Merrill met Hawke. Now the girl seemed so Ferelden, though. She would’ve easily fit into the dreams, sweatpants or no. She carried herself well.
“Your staff is nice,” Merrill commented, hoping to avoid more topical subjects. She didn’t want to answer questions, or receive a lecture in front of Frodo. She didn’t think that was likely from Bethany, but she wasn’t sure.
The cuts in Merrill’s forearms were deep, and the floor around her was scattered with blood-soaked rags that Frodo had been trying to stop the bleeding with.
Bethany had known Merrill. A Merrill. Her Merrill. She'd simply accepted the fact that she dreamed of a Kirkwall where Carver had died instead of she. It was the only thing that made any sense, even if it was depressing to think she was alone here. At least most everyone was similar - Garrett seemed to be entirely alone, and she wasn't sure she liked that much, either.
She smiled at Merrill, "It destroyed a coffee maker, I gave it a proper scolding."
Expression hardening, Bethy propped the staff next to, ironically, a coffee maker, and gently took Merrill's hands. There was dismay and worry in her voice, but no judgement, "Oh Merrill, what did you do?"
She held a hand over the cuts, a warm green glow spreading from her fingers to envelope her hand and Merrill's forearm.
Frodo had moved to Merrill’s other side, resting a hand on her shoulder to maintain his presence and comfort her. His eyes widened and reflecting the green light that began to fill the room. His pulse quickened.
“I was trying to fix the eluvian,” Merrill said softly. “I guess it’s a little.. different here.” She shouldn’t have expected things to work like they did in her dreams, her body healing quickly as soon as she was out of combat. It was ridiculous. She hadn’t been thinking clearly. “Thank you for coming,” Merrill said, relaxing a little as she felt the magic beginning to work.
Frodo felt the energy pulse through Merrill’s skin beneath his hand. He lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed beside her, never breaking contact.
"I'm glad I did." Bethany moved between both of Merrill's arms, staunching the flow of blood, "I need some water and more cloth..I want to clean the cuts before I seal them..just in case the magic doesn't deal with infection well enough here."
She was reluctant to make Frodo move, but she didn't want to risk any problems for Merrill later on down the road.
Frodo realized it was on him they were waiting. His eyelids fluttered, and though his hand detached from Merrill reluctantly, he did rise back to his feet. “Of course,” he said, his voice low. He disappeared from the bedroom and returned a few moments later with a bowl of warm water and a few clean dish towels. They would be replacing a lot of blood-stained textiles, once this was over.
"I'm not ready to talk to Hawke," Merrill confided to Bethany. "We had a fight. I don't--" she shook her head, struggling to find the words. "I'm not ready."
"It feels better," Merrill told the other mage when Frodo returned, hoping he would worry a little less. "I think maybe you're better at this than Anders was," she said with a shy smile. She was certainly being nicer than Anders.
Frodo handed everything over to Bethany and returned to Merrill’s side. There did seem to be a change about her already, not that she was out of the woods, but at least she no longer seemed hanging by a limb.
He sat down on the bed and pressed his lips to her temple. His breath trembled as he exhaled. He was cool under pressure, but that did not mean he was any less frightened. Frodo looked up at Bethany with a pleading gaze, silently begging her to confirm that the woman he loved would be alright.
"He's really sweet," Bethany said under her breath. About Frodo, and to lighten the heaviness in the air. She nodded her head at Merrill, "I won't tell my sister. I'll let you do that. And you should, just when you're ready. Okay?"
Bethany rolled her eyes, "Anders could probably heal this faster and with less effort." She took cloth and water from Frodo, "And this might hurt a bit."
As gently as she could, she washed out the cuts, before putting her hands back over them to try to close them. There might be scars, she didn't know. Maybe Anders could have done it without scars, but he also had a lot more experience healing. Bethany had some, and had chosen to focus on those skills here rather than on throwing fireballs.
Seemed more useful, when there weren't Darkspawn about.
The amount of blood loss was worrying, but Bethany could feel Merrill's thread growing stronger. She gave Frodo a reassuring smile, "If you were the one helping to keep the blood in, you probably saved her life."
A shiver went down his spine. He did not exactly like hearing it put that way, but he nodded. “I’m just glad everything’s okay. Honestly, I was worried you were not a real person when Merrill described you. Or she might have thought she was dreaming...”
"Oh, my family and I are quite real." Bethany smiled. The wounds were almost closed, but her stamina wasn't what it was there. She called upon the Taint in her blood, that thing that was uniquely hers among those here. She hadn't heard of any other wardens. She used it to buoy herself and by her more time to finish the process. She'll be damned if Merrill had scars.
"That place we dream of, I'd rather it not be real, though."
Merrill leaned against Frodo, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “I was a little out of it,” she said, not surprised Frodo thought Bethany might not have been real. “I asked for Anders, too. He wouldn’t have been so nice, though,” she told Bethany. She would’ve had to deal with a lecture about the horrors of blood magic, which made her dizzy even thinking about. This incident had put her off wanting to play with any more magic.
Merrill still felt a little shaky. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do. Frodo was being so strong for her. She was used to taking care of other people, it was strange being on the other side.
"I can think of some of the lectures he might give you, but I'm going to let this sink in a bit," Bethany replied, sounding remarkably like her mother. "I hope you learned your lesson, though."
She sat back, wiping sweat off her face with the back of her arm, "I think..I need a break...I don't know how badly it will scar, Merrill."
Merrill quieted, nodding solemnly. She was right; Merrill needed time to process this. But she wouldn’t be trying anything like that again anytime soon.
“I’m okay now. Please don’t hurt yourself,” Merrill said, worried for Bethany. “I don’t care about scars, it’s fine.”
"Maker..." Bethany sighed, patting Merrill's hand, "I know, but I did want to try to..make them as light as possible. We won't know if I've succeeded until they fully heal."
Frodo wanted to gulp. What a shame, he thought, to carrying around the wounds of an unfortunate incident for the rest of one’s life. He lifted his hand and rubbed the scarring on his bare chest. In his haste, he had forgotten to cover himself before answering the door. He moved his hand and regarded it, as well, regarded the missing finger.
He kissed Merrill’s temple again. “Maybe you should try and get some sleep. I’ll get you some water.”
Bethany hadn't noticed. Though now she had and she wondered if it was possible to heal the scars. Or if he'd even want it. A lot of people viewed them as part of themselves and might even resent the scars being gone - even if they agreed to it. She decided not to offer. She didn't know if she could anyway, unsure of Merrill would scar, and didn't want to get any hopes up.
"That's a good idea, Merrill."
Merrill nodded. She was still a little dazed, and probably would have agreed to any number of things. Sleep sounded like a very good idea.
“Thank you, Bethy,” she said, taking Bethany’s hand in both of hers.
Frodo stood up and guided Merrill to lie down with a gentle hand. He would take care of the blood on the sheets later. “Everything’s going to be okay,” he said, giving her a final kiss goodnight, as it were.
Merrill settled on the pillows and smiled up at Frodo. His reassurance meant a great deal to her. She was still a little worried for him, but she was also very tired..
Bethy kept her 'awww' to herself, but she did allow a tired smile, "You're very good for her. That means my sister won't have to turn you into a newt."
She didn't know if they could turn people into newts, but it was a dire threat, anyway.
A genuine grin appeared on his face then, for the first time that night. He was not a very self-conscious man, and it seemed like an opportunity to show Bethany his gratitude by embracing her, so Frodo did. “Thank you,” he said.
He began to lead the woman out of the room, so that Merrill could get some sleep. He would fetch her some water, he would probably pass out beside her in short order, and then tomorrow they would begin to clean up the mess.
She hugged him back lightly. She had to get the car back before it was noticed missing, but she didn't regret what she'd done. For the first time in recent memory she really enjoyed her magic.
Maybe something good could come of it, after all.