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Chapter Text

Flemeth cut me off, "See you later~" She snapped her fingers, and some weird purple mist formed around us, just like that, as quick as you could sneeze. And as quick as I could realize what the fuck was going on.

I felt dizzy, and had a sudden urge to cough. I closed my eyes for a second, and when I opened them again, I was no longer in the outskirts of Lothering, but somewhere else I didn't recognize. I looked around and I noticed we landed in a wooden platform, in the middle of a crowd of people, overlooking the vast blue ocean. I was almost at the edge of the platform, so I had to keep my balance in order not to fall into the ocean, while being pushed around by people. 

I didn't know this new place could be as crowded as the São Paulo metro during rush hour. Ahhhhhh, now I just need some corrupt politicians, cheap illegal Chinese trinkets, crappy motorcycles running amok between the cars and high crime rates that I'll feel just like home. 

But I was not at home, I knew that much. Even in dream.

However, in this little port we are, there were boats all around, but I couldn't distinguish much else.

I shielded my eyes with my hands, because the sun was pretty bright, but I could not believe them. 

Where am I?

How did I get here??? The witch-? How? 

Is there even supposed to be a 'here'?

"At least the creepy witch kept her promise," Hawke commented, between awkward coughs, "She took us to Gwaren in one piece."

Oh, there's a helpful sign written 'Welcome to Gwaren'.

I'm kidding, there's no such sign. But I wanted one, brain.

Shitty jokes aside, Gwaren doesn't even appear in the games???? How can I imagine this shit?

Alright, I really gotta wake up now.

"Move it!" I heard someone behind me shout, "Maker's sake! If you are not going to buy a ticket, make room for the ones who are!" The platform was too crowded to identify someone in there. The amount of human heat there was intoxicating. There were people coughing, screaming, sneezing and crying. I then realized we were not in a simple crowd, but in a line for something.

"Ticket to what?" Bethany asked the crowd. Not even Hawke, who was not a small dude, got pushed around by the crowd. If even my man Garrett got treated like that, imagine how a relatively small girl like me would be! We need some room to breathe and I need some room to pinch myself for the third time in hopes of waking up- you know what they say, third time's a charm.

"Out of this hole!" Came the reply...from somewhere.

I chuckled, but it was out of anxiety, rather than amusement, "Very precise, thanks a lot, fam." 

"Fuck you!" Alright, then. Dream People are rude, damn.

"The Witch could at least have brought us somewhere less crowded in Gwaren, it's not like the entire city is like this." Hawke complained, almost taking the words right out of my mouth.

I stood on my tiptoes in order to see better, and noticed there was a fat guy seated by the platform to a ship, by a large table. There was where the crowd of people was heading. The guy had to be particularly huge for me to be able to see, given my shit eyesight and the amount of heads in my front, "That fat guy looks like he's in charge. Can you see him?"

"It's hard not to." Hawke, who was the tallest of the group but himself in tiptoes and tried to look where I was looking, "He's fat, and fat people are normally in charge."

"Everyone seems to be reporting to him. Maybe he is the one selling tickets to Kirkwall in one of those boats." Bethany clanged onto her mother, trying not to let her slip away, as Leandra's stare was blank. Even in dream, I can't blame a mother for grieving her son's death, even if he kinda deserved. Okay no, I'm not that heartless, it was not deserved.

Aveline pushed a guy away from her, in order to make room to breathe, "We should find out as soon as possible." ASAP. Finally someone used the expression 'asap' in real life! Technically not real life but you get it.

"How will we get there?" Bethany asked, progressively annoyed at the crowd, "We can't move past this crowd!"

I was the one who was less annoyed by the crowd of people in the platform. Please note the word less here. I was annoyed at it all, for obvious reasons, but I'm used to them, because in order to get to University, I had to get the crowded metro at prime rush hour at home (which I'm definitely not looking forward to waking up and taking that route to Uni today in the morning). And also, most importantly, I know how to get out of them.

"Hey, I know how." I announced, a bit too proudly. After all, I'm the queen of crowds. I know how to contort myself in order to effectively maneuver myself out of them, and take other people along. What can I say, I've had much practice at home. "Hold on into each other tightly- like your life depends on it, that's crucial- and follow me!"

Aveline seemed to doubt my abilities, "Are you sure?"

"I was born and raised in São Paulo, if I know anything is how to handle a crowd." I smiled, despite having being poked in the ribs by some random person. "Caralho [dick], that hurt."

"Lead on," Hawke looked at me and nodded, grabbing my left arm with his hand. His hand was surprisingly soft to the touch, considering that 1- he's a guy, 2- he's a rogue and 3- we are in a medieval scenario. But whatever, since this is my dream, Hawke can have soft hands. 

I trusted the rest of the gang was doing the same as him (I mean, holding into each other, not having soft hands, but that wouldn't hurt), so I proceeded to do my thing. I mentally rubbed my hands together like a villain in a crappy 60s cartoon.

"Hold on tight, Mother," Bethany told Leandra. Yes, great, we can't afford to lose anyone in this mess. Due to my experiences with crowds, that's the easiest thing to happen.

I took a deep breath and began pushing away the people. Gently, of course, it wouldn't be a master's work if it were not gently.

True enough to my word, I contorted myself in such a way around the crowd, and the gang followed my movements, and by the time I had started to picture the song 'The Sugar Plum Fairy Dance' from the Nutcracker ballet while we waltzed about, we had already magically arrived at the edge of the platform, where this big fat ginger haired guy was seated by a table, taking notes in a book with a pen-thing made out of a feather.

I was actually surprised at the fact that a crowd of refugees trying to flee from the Blight could be this organized. Like, no one tried to storm pass the ginger haired man and into the shit behind him. I don't know about you, but sure as hell that I would make a run for the boat without paying, if I were in fact living this.

His 'table' was nothing more than a large wooden box, however, and there were many little brown pouches placed on top of it, filled with coin, I'd wager. The fat man wore greasy clothing to match his greasy hair. He hadn't seen a bath in weeks, it seemed.

He also seemed, like Hawke assumed, to be in charge, allowing people to enter the big wooden ship behind him. Not before paying some unknown amount of dream-money. Kudos for capitalism!

The gang and I were practically pulled into the table, and we were awfully close to the guy. I narrowed my eyes as I noticed some smudge in the guy's face. I cringed internally.

Hawke is very charming, and he smiled at the distracted man before saying, "I understand you are the one selling tickets to Kirkwall-" The rogue man started talking to the man, but someone behind us yelled,

"Hey, don't cut the line! Stay back and wait for your turn like the rest of us!" Cutting the line is something I kinda despise? Like, if I'm the one cutting then there's no problem, but when someone cuts in front of me, then I get pissed.

This time, however, it was the former. Not to mention the fact that I couldn't care less about this other dream people.

Just like myself, the gang ignored the protests. 

Without taking his eyes from his notes, and giving even less fucks about the yelling crowd, the man replied to Hawke's implied question, "Yes, I am. Yes, the ship leaves tonight. Yes, you'll have two meals a day while on board. Yes, the price is 5 sovereigns per person. No, I won't let you in the boat if you have no money." The greasy man sighed heavily, annoyed, as he finally looked up from his notes- green eyes scanning the five of us, before locking briefly with my blue ones, "Now, pay up, I don't have all day, and the space is limited inside." He extended his hand, waiting for money, before returning to his notes. 

I'd give my left arm to know what he is writing- I bet it's smutty literature.

The man screamed 'asshole'. Oh damn, why do I have to put up with those types even in dream? Ahh, what won't I do for Varric.

Not even Bob the fucking Builder can fix this guy's attitude for fuck's sake. Everything about him screams 'I wasn't loved by my parents as a child and now my wife wants to leave me'.

I raised an eyebrow at that. The man was rude, sure, but how could I even create such a person? One that seems so real in his assholeness, and the fact that I had zero money with me, and I absolutely would not trade my phone for this. 

I decided to wait and see what happens next.

For some reason I had the song 'Strangers Like Me' from Tarzan playing in the back of my mind, but it was just the chorus playing, like a ruined disk.

I observed Hawke take a pouch from his pocket (don't ask me what pocket because I'm just as confused as the rest of you), and before he could hand it over, his mother, in a move pulled straight from Naruto, grabbed her son's wrist, "15 sovereigns is all we have, Garrett."

I didn't know people were allowed to refer to Hawke as Garrett though.

I get it would not be the best to spend all the money like that but Leandra, my girl, but it has to be like this if you want to reach Kirkwall. As much as I wanted to just tell them everything would be okay, I felt like I shouldn't.

"Mother, we need to get away from Ferelden." Bethany urged.

But her mother is stubborn, as I would (arguably) be in her place, I mean, so many things could happen and they would give up all their money for a chance of escaping, not even knowing if those people will actually take them to Kirkwall, "There must be another way other to get out without spending all of our money!"

"You heard the witch, we are on our own now, we need to go." Hawke gently removed his mother's hand from his wrist, "We don't know if another opportunity will ever show up."

"I don't trust that witch,"

"Then trust me, alright?"

The greasy fat man sighed loudly, gathering the Hawkes' attention, "I don't have all afternoon, and the crowd behind you doesn't either." He then glanced at Hawke, then at Hawke's purse, "Pay up or beat it."

I wondered if I should go with them, stay here, throw myself in the water or do something else...

The rogue nodded, and deposited the pouch on the table, "Here, 15 sovereigns- all we have."

Don't worry, Garrett, you will be rich in a year's time. I mentally reassured my virtual cinnamon roll.

Greasy boy opened the pouch and let all its content fall into his table. He carefully counted the coins and then said, "You may pass. Follow the platform into the ship and my mate will take care of the rest," I honestly didn't know people in this particular medieval scenario could do simple math- I know I can't.

The three Hawkes managed to get pass the crowd and into the entrance of the ship, but instead of entering it, they waited. Waited for Aveline and me, I suppose. 

Then it hit me: I had absolutely no money, and apparently no one else had any to spare, which would make my situation pretty difficult. Something tells me I should stick around with following Hawke, though, I know that much. Meanwhile, the crowd grew restless and I wondered if I would be beaten up for taking so long to do this.

Aveline and I exchanged quick glances, and I automatically knew she didn't have much money as well, so, in mutual understanding, I nodded, allowing her to pay her part.

The ginger haired woman's pouch was bigger and heavier looking than Hawke's and I wondered why. I got my answer when Greasy boy started counting the coins and I realized the pouch was bigger because Aveline had more silvers and coppers, unlike Hawke who had just golden coins. "Everything set, you may go."

Green eyes connected with my blue ones for a second, but unlike the Hawkes, she remained by my side. I wonder why that is? Maybe she doesn't want to leave me alone with the crowd and Greasy boy? "How about you, girl?" Greasy boy asked, impatiently.

"I have a total of zero." I stared at him, losing my anxiety while faced with the situation. I began to concoct a plan B, and if there's something I'm good at is with plan Bs. "I suppose you wouldn't let me in if I asked you nicely?"

The man looked up at me, and practically ate me with his eyes, "No."

"How about I sing you a song? I'm an opera singer and I know many arias-"

"I only accept palpable items." The man's grin was outright predatory. Aveline took a step closer to me, as she fiddled with the pommel of her sword. 

But I am not scared- far from it in fact, "Haven't you heard that a well sung song is worth way more than a pile of gold?" 

"No, and I don't intend to." The man continued, as someone yelled something in the back, "I accept items though, any chance this necklace you're wearing is made of gold? 

"What necklace-" I reached for my neck and my fingers brushed against a thick metal chain- I don't remember putting that on. I traced the chain and found a pendant on it. It had a thick golden medallion as big as my eye with a golden Christian cross engraved beautifully, along with rose flowers adorning it. I knew that necklace, and I always wear it on religious occasions, I don't remember this dream being a religious occasion, however. "Oh, of course it's made of gold." I was given this item by my grandparents in the day I was born, and my parents insisted in my wearing it, because it was, indeed, made of gold. I'm not a religious person by any means, but that necklace was expensive, sentimental as well as extremely pretty. I've had this all my life, after all, "I...can't give you this," 

"That is such a shame- no Kirkwall for you, then," The man grunted, before looking at me from head to toes, I'd like to think he did so because he was surprised at my odd choice of clothing. I know, right, Minions are not for everyone, and only some people- like me, of course- can rock this look, "Unless," He grinned. Well, now I'm kinda freaked out, "If you prefer, we can go somewhere private, you are pretty enough-"

That's it. 

Does he think I'm a prostitute? For this? Holy shit, if I were to sell my body, it would be for something nicer than a ship ticket. Like a Nintendo Switch, for example.

Some voice in the back of my head keeps telling me to give my necklace in exchange for this opportunity to go to Kirkwall. I don't know...

Well, you know what, fuck it. This, this right here is a damn long dream, so why the fuck not? when I wake up I will look inside my jewelry box and see my necklace there, because, after all, I don't even remember putting it on in the first place. 

"Ew! Here, take the necklace." I said, quickly tucking my long brown braid to the side and quickly worked my way to the pin that held the necklace together. Removing it, I deposited the item in the man's greasy hands.

"What is this symbol?" He admired the golden pendant, as he held the necklace by the string and stared at the medallion. 

I thought for a second on how to reply, "It's...ah... An old Antivan symbol for... good luck. Yes, yes, good luck." I wasn't going to say it was a cross where a guy had been crucified to save everyone from their sins, because it would be weird, and even in dream, those people believe in the Maker, not in Jesus. "Such medallions are quite rare, as I understand."

Greasy boy then did something I definitely wasn't expecting. He bit the medallion and tried to bend it, with no success, obviously. The thing was made of gold, and might have cost a fortune, so it wouldn't simple bend. And here I am, selling it for the mere prize of 5 gold coins. In dream or not, it's not a good deal for me. "This necklace seems valuable enough- you may pass, girl," He then added, softly, so that no one would hear- but I did anyway, "Maybe if I give her this she won't want to leave me anymore."

That's so petty it hurts. 

Regardless of the pettiness of Greasy boy, I was now free to go to Kirkwall. Before he changed his mind, I followed Aveline to where the Hawkes were, and consequently, inside the ship.

I didn't look back. Neither did anyone.

~*~

As Greasy boy said, the ship left later that day. 

Well, it turns out that it was almost dusk when we showed up in Gwaren, and the lil ship left a couple of hours into the night. The boat was crappy and I thanked the superior government lizard people for the fact that I didn't have any kind of boat sickness, because damn this shit moves a lot.

And one thing I concluded early on: this trip wasn't worth my necklace. For many reasons, but mainly because we were packed in the hold of the ship- so many people in one place. 

The Hawkes, Aveline and I managed to secure a little spot at one of the far off corners of the hold, but it was far from comfortable. I was basically pressed against the wall made of wood, resting my head there, close to the rest. The hard wooden floor and the excessive human heat were making me dizzy. Not to mention the swinging of the ship. 

The only non-artificial light we had was the moon, that creeped into our dark hold from a metal grid on the ceiling, separating the people from the upper floor. I don't envy the sailors working topside, but it would be neat if we had some more space to breathe. 

I asked Hawke how long it would be until we got to Kirkwall, and he sighted before replying that it would take us about two weeks. Two weeks?! Shit. Thank goodness I'm bound to wake up soon.

I mentioned the moonlight was the only non-artificial light, because I used my phone to illuminate us a bit, so that Bethany could heal my hand with her magic- in secret, of course. I, being the skeptical soul I am, retorted and announced that magic didn't exist. Instead of turning her nose to me being an ass, the mage just smiled and told me to relax. Just like that, with a bippidi-boppidi-bitch, Bethany Hawke closed the open wound on the back of my pale hand. She was spooked by my phone, asked what it was, and I replied 'it's a phone, duh!'. She probably didn't understand what I meant, but asked no further questions, which I was glad.

Anyway, I was leaning against the wall, braiding my hair as I watched the others. Hawke was lost in his thoughts, Leandra was asleep, Aveline petted Summer and Bethany looked up to the grid, hopefully to see the night's sky.

There were many other people with us- hardly any spot where there wasn't a family. You can hear all sorts of sounds, like coughs, crying and other human sounds, you name it.

I was bored.

I thought about playing Morgan Freeman dress-up but I figured I wasn't in the mood for it. I then thought about practicing the latest song I've been studying, which is 'Frühlingsstimmen' which is a very famous piece of classical music by my hero Johann Strauss, but since the soprano voice is optional, it remains a bit in obscurity. The way the vocals capture the song is magnificent. I'm glad the director of the singing segment of the music’s department at my University chose me to perform this song in the recital in the end of the semester. In my many years of singing, I've encountered many beautiful and challenging songs, ranging from deep to sharp notes. However, few compare to the sheer beauty of this one. How can I say? It sings (pun 100% intended) to me in such a way. It's not my favorite however, but it's at my top 10, definitely.

Before I knew, I had started softly singing the first few verses, without even having done the correct voice warm-ups... This would make any professional singer cringe:

Die Lerche in blaue Höh entschwebt,

Der Tauwind weht so lau-

"For the love of the Maker, could you please stop!" Someone from somewhere shouted. THE FUCKING GALL!!!! WHO DARES INTERRUPT? I AM ONE OF THE GREATEST SINGING PROMISES OF MY GENERATION!!! WHO ARE YOU TO TELL ME TO STOP!

I instantly jolted my head up, searching for the owner of the voice, with no result, so I just yelled back, "Well, I'm sorry if you dream people can't appreciate good music even if it's handed to you in a silver platter!!"

Hawke chuckled lightly, amused by the situation, "I wouldn't keep singing if I were you- who knows if you'll wake up tomorrow with a knife on your neck- or wake up at all," 

I sighed, defeated, because I realized it isn't worth it to keep arguing with dream people. The only ones who need to know how amazing I am at singing are me, my voice teachers and the numerous professional critics who will undoubtedly watch my performances. I don't need to please them. 

Alright, I get it, I'm being obnoxious and people are getting jealous of my talent. This may surprise you but it happens a lot.

However that has nothing to do with Hawke. He is just being friendly, and as usual using humor to distract himself from thinking about his brother.

"I'll keep that in mind, thanks." I smiled back at the man.

"No problem." He replied, "Say, for 5 sovereigns one would expect a better voyage, right?"

"Tell me about it," It was my turn to giggle, "Had to give up my pretty necklace for this- well, I'd rather sell my soul, but unfortunately I don't have one anymore," I never had one, actually. And even if I did, Satan wouldn't want it because my soul would make him sad, to be honest. I'm an edgelord. I talk blasphemy and say Satan's name too many times for someone who got upset after trading their Christian cross necklace for a shabby boat ride. 

"That makes two of us," The man said. I had to keep my composure not to laugh with him- not at him, "However, you know that if we had anything to spare, we would help you,"

"I don't doubt it," And I really don't. Despite this Hawke being purple, he is a good person at heart, only a little mean at times but mostly good, "I'll miss you when I wake up, though," I smiled. Yeah, true. I don't know, but I feel like I've connected so much with this fictional character from my dreams in a time span of like a couple of hours than with most people I've met face-to-face. It is weird. I'm more lucid in this dream than I am normally. "You're quite rad,"

"Are you touched in the head or something?" This is getting awkward, because I'm real as fuck and my boy Hawke is just a manifestation of my unconscious and I'm talking to him.

"What? No! I'm just dreaming this all up, but it'll pass soon." I finished up the fishtail braid I was working on just in time to feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. When Hawke wasn't looking, I took a peek at it and I noticed that it was an unknown number calling. Not just this time, I had 6 missed calls from this random person, which is weird because I didn't feel it vibrate.

I don't know how it works in other places, but there is a way to block your number ID from the call identifier in Brazil, making the screen show only a ‘unknown number’ instead of the actual numbers. And this sneaky dream-person did just that. Which is weird. People only do that if they are calling to sell something or if they are calling from inside one of the many jails in the country, trying to trick you into giving them ransom money even if no one had been taken hostage.

If I were to guess, it would have been from jail. 

But why would someone from jail call me 7 times in a row? They normally give up after two or three attempts. This inmate seems pretty invested in trying to trick me, it seems.

Well, sometimes when those people try to call me, I like to pick up the call and then talk to them in a really weird manly voice. It usually scares them and amuses me to boot. If this dream fucker tries to call again I'll be more than prepared. 

"It just seems...odd to me that a singer from Antiva- out of all places- would somehow end up in Lothering in the middle of a Blight," Hawke continued making small talk, trying to fill the silence.

To perform in an opera with the required emotions, one needs to perfectly embody the role, and right now I'm embodying the role of everyday me, if I were blissfully unaware of the fact that this right here is a dream, "Extraordinary bad luck?"

"I was going to suggest just that," He scratched his beard, "You are quite alright, you know. You should stick with us for a while, as well as Aveline. I'm sure no one will object,"

Even though he is a creation of my mind, I can't help it but feel warm inside. He doesn't think I'm insufferable! "I'm flattered,"

"I'm just charming like that-," He started, but just as he did, my phone started to vibrate once again. I mentally patted myself in the back for turning off the sounds and only leaving the phone on vibrate, because it would have been kind of ridiculous if everyone here knew that my ringtone is in fact Smash Mouth's All Star. And before anyone asks, yes, it's definitely because of Shrek.

I'm going to pick it up this time, just for the LoLs, "It's my phone- excuse me... I'll be back in a sec," I made an effort to stand up quickly, and calmly dance my way into the back of the hold, (careful not to step in anyone sprawled on the floor) where I knew there was a flight of stairs, and beside it, a little storage door, (how do I know this? The thing is, I pay very close attention to our surroundings, and when we passed through the stairs, I noticed the door) where I'd hopefully would have more privacy and be able to shout. Because one thing that my hot Italian blood likes to do is shout, and I intend to honor my ancestors by doing just that. And by staying a bit away from the people, I can do it without objection. 

I had to dodge the sleeping people (almost stepping in some people in the process) before I actually was able to get to the flight of stairs. I ignored anything that could compromise my little operation and entered the small storage room. 

After I closed the wooden door behind me, I noticed that the room was dark as your mom's chesthair and full of barrels of what I assumed were stinky fish. Ew. Whatever-- I accommodated myself in between the barrels, my back leaning against one right across the door and planned my course of action. I was going to answer the phone with a fake voice, just to annoy the caller, "It'll show those stupid prison people not to mess with my dreams,"

Once I got there, I answered the call, "Hello?" They said, in English, for some reason. I'm going to reply using the deepest male voice I can make, and repeat everything the guy says. When I was a kid I would repeat everything my older sisters would say, just to annoy them, so now I'm using the same tactic. If it annoys my siblings, it will definitely annoy the prison guy.

"Hello?" I said back, pressing the device against my right ear.

"Is this Ms. Mayara Antonella Rosso Rossi?" A weird somewhat ethereal voice asked. I don't recognize the voice, which is not a good sign. And the fact that whoever is calling knows my name indicates that either this is a very elaborate scheme from guys in jail or some guy in telemarketing trying to sell me shit.

I continued with my plan of repeating what the other person said, "Is this Ms. Mayara Antonella Rosso Rossi?"

"Hello, it's me," Adele? Is that you?

"Hello, it's me," I raised an eyebrow. I'm honestly not understanding anything right now. The telemarketing or jail dude is clearly crazy or on some powerful drugs.

"Don't you remember our deal?"

"Don't you remember our- wait what?" I cursed myself for not being able to repeat everything and instead messing the plan up. I don't remember any deal, lest of all with a guy from prison. I know pretty well that getting involved with drug dealing is not for people who want to live long lives. I suppose the person in the line got the wrong number? But why would they know my name? Uggghhhh this is boring.

"Your little joke of repeating everything was amusing, I'll give you that," I live for my fans, of course. All future stars should be like this. I always reply to my fans on Twitter and Instagram, and when I get famous and rich I'll have people doing that for me, though.

Jokes aside, I'm pretty scared because this guy apparently knows who I am and I made a deal with him I don't even remember??? Might be a prank, but I don't have many friends in the first place, let alone any who would prank me? Who could it be? Well, guys in jails can also be pretty resourceful and found out who I am- not that any of this is real, mind you, "Go back to jail and selling some drugs for fuck's sake and leave me alone!"

"Dearest," The voice sighed, quite annoyed, "Stop shouting. You'll wake up the other people who also payed 5 sovereigns to be there," What now? How could this weird dream person know about that? "How do I know? I know everything about you- the youngest daughter of Anna Rosso and Artur Rossi, aspiring to fame in the opera world, soprano, your favorite opera is Carmen, but your favorite aria is Largo al Factotum-"

"Okay now, stop," This is creepy as fuck, even for a dream, "Who even are you?" Telemarketing from hell?

"I'm...what would you people call it? A friend. I helped you overcome that pesky dying you mortals have to deal with often,"

"Dying? Seriously dude what drugs are you on and where can I get some?" Dying? I'm still alive (unfortunately) as far as I know. And friend? I don't remember having friends in jail?

"Death, dear. You died, but with my help you are not dead anymore- in this world, anyhow."

I swapped my phone from my right ear to my left, "Care to elaborate?"

"Sure, everything for you, Mayara." The voice kept talking and I kept walking back and forth out of nervousness- the wooden floor cracking softly as my feet touched it, "Well, you- how you died is not important, but what is in fact important is to say is that you died, but before your soul could leave your body, I just had the time to propose a deal to you: you'd sell your soul in exchange of a second chance at life in another world of your choosing. Simple as that,"

I didn't say anything. Not that I didn't want to, because I wanted to tell this person to go fuck themselves in the ass with a pineapple. I just wanted to listen in a bit more. Nothing made sense. What a messed up dream. It was not like I had a soul to sell to even begin with. And even if I did I wouldn’t sell for it for this.

"But you still think this is a dream, yes? Even after cutting yourself? Aren't you a skeptical one? Let's not live in doubt any longer: if you yet don’t believe, watch as your flip-flops will get stuck on the floor in three seconds,"

Before I could react to that, the flip-flop in my left foot magically got it's front part stuck in one of the cracks in the wooden floor, barely missing my toes. Holy shit. "What kind of sorcery is this?"

"Ancient magic, my dear friend Flemeth mentioned that to you, as I recall."

"Stop! You're creeping my out! Leave me alone, creep!”

"Ahh, dear soprano, you can't end the call so abruptly! Didn't your parents teach you manners?"

"What do you want with me?"

"Good question! What do I want with you? Amusement! You make me laugh, which was why I proposed this deal for you."

"What kind of amusement?"

"Simply by you existing in this foreign yet so familiar world provides me with that." Suddenly I felt an urge to throw up, even if I hadn’t ingested anything. This doesn’t make sense, how would this magic phone guy know I would get my flip-flop stuck in between the wooden planks like that? "I'm a slut for the trope of a modern day girl learning how to live in a medieval scenario."

I had to keep trying to find out what the hell is going on in this shit, "Let's pretend I believe this made-up dream bullshit," I started, "Why did you call me?"

"I imagined you didn’t read the terms and conditions of our little arrangement, so I decided to ring you up just to remind you of them,” It’s so like me to not read the terms and conditions of a contract lol. The accuracy is painful. I squinted my eyes for a bit and was glad that no one showed up in this hallway, because if anyone did they would be creeped out by the scenario. Not that I’m not creeped out by this. Weirdly, as my phone rested on top of my ear, I felt it vibrate, as if I had just received a text, “I’ve just e-mailed you a copy of our agreement, for further consultation if need be, but knowing you as much as I do, I’m sure you’ll see it only once and completely forget about it,”

So this person is probably not from prison, but where are they from? Does this person seat in a bureau somewhere with headphones and a PC in front of them e-mailing shit to clients? Perish the thought.

“You’ve…e-mailed me…a copy of the contract I *signed* with you?” Who even uses e-mail anymore? I know I don’t, (even though the account is linked to my cheap phone, because I fear that if I try to remove it, it'll mess up my mobile) and my only e-mail address was the very embarrassing ‘[email protected]' I used as a kid. I cringe just by thinking about it.

If they actually sent an e-mail to me with this deal I’d definitely like to look at it, so I decided I would open it and read everything throughout.

“Well, yes. I work like that. I don’t know how other deities perpetuate their deals but I’m practical and I enjoy having everything organized for future consultations.” The guy on the other line giggled lightly. I assumed it was a guy because I like working with genders and this caller seems like a man to me. Men are stupid as fuck. “Go on, check the message. I’ll wait.”

Holding the phone tightly in my trembling hands, I tentatively removed the mobile from its place in my left cheek so that I could open the e-mail. I got the notification of a new e-mail in the top of my screen and I clicked it. The system brought me right to the page and there I could see the message. Not paying attention to any other details, I opened it and there was nothing more than an attached file to it. No subject, no sending address, just one single attachment.

This is an open invitation for viruses, of course. But whatever my phone is shit already from all the illegal music I’ve downloaded so what’s another virus, right?

I opened the attachment and it was an official looking contract-thing. One would not expect a 19 year-old singer with as much life experience as a peeled plum would know an official-looking contract when she sees it, yes? But I know. And how do I know? Well, I’ve watched plenty of movies.

 ~*~

Under the Metro, State of São Paulo, Brazil

Revision 666

Soul Bill of Selling

I, Mayara Antonella Rosso Rossi, hereby sell, transfer and convey all rights, title, and ownership of the following described soul to Lucifer (the Devil), His Unholiest, Prince of Darkness, becoming soulless, in return for another chance in life because I've already fucked up once, inclusive of all sales tax, paid in the form of one of the following methods: the receipt and sufficiency of which is hereby acknowledged. This sum represents the mutually agreed upon purchase price of the soul, between both the Seller, Mayara and the Purchaser, Lucifer (the Devil), Prince of Darkness.

*Soul Information*

Name: Mayara Antonella Rosso Rossi, the greatest soprano to ever live;

Gender: Female

Age: 19

Price OR Traded Item: Another chance at life in another world;

Religious Affiliation: No religion (baptized Catholic, however);

Soul Purity: (mostly) clean;

Mean Annual Sin Rate (MASR): Chose not to inform (known only to the Devil);

Nation/State of Origin: São Paulo, Brazil;

Notes: ‘I'm such an edgelord that my soul will make even the Devil himself sad.’ Rossi, Mayara;

Soul Condition: Worth a lot to be honest.

*Seller Information*

Salutation: Ms.

First name: Mayara

Last name: Rossi

Cause of death: Trauma by being run over;

Address: São Paulo metro system, line 1-Blue, under cart L;

Telephone: 1234-5678

E-mail:  [email protected]

*Purchaser Information*

Salutation: Mr.

First name: Prince

Last name: of Darkness

Address: Pit of Eternal Damnation, 4th Floor, Hell;

Telephone: 6666-6666

E-mail:  [email protected]

*Additional Observations*

By signing this contract, the Seller also compromises with all the below listed set of rules and observations that should be followed by anyone and everyone who ventures in a new- already established- world:

• By agreeing to this, the Seller compromises with not interfering with the final outcome of the story in any circumstances.
• The Seller must not tell anyone about this contract, the deal itself or her status of soulless.
• The characters must not be steered away from their designated paths, by the Seller or a third party, for it would cause immeasurable issues with the complexity of the multiverses. The Seller is, however, allowed to help said characters to achieve their goals, if she so desires.
• The Seller is permitted to engage in rivalry, friendship or even romance with the people around her, comment on current events and live her life just like any other, person, for she is essentially part of that world, now.
• As something that would personally amuse the Purchaser, the Seller has been granted with unlimited Internet connection on her phone, and may utilize it in any way she pleases, in accordance with the other rules, of course. However, the Seller doesn't need to bother trying to reach anyone in her previous world, for they will be permanently blocked and therefore unreacheable.
• The Seller’s voice and singing abilities have not been altered.
• Because of the Seller’s unusual circumstances of being ‘soulless’, she is more sensible to the Fade, thus becoming an easier target for demons and other creatures that would try and possess her body.
• Magic has limited effect on the Seller due to observation VII.
• If the Seller breaks any of the observations for any reason at all, the Purchaser shall forfeit her life and turn her in for an eternity of pain and suffering in the deep and darkest pit of Hell.
• If the Purchaser finds that the Seller has been amusing enough and she had not broken any rules, he may grant her final peace when her body finally dies of natural causes (or not).

1. Certification. The Seller certifies to the Purchaser, that the Seller is the legal and rightful owner of the soul and has full right and authority to convey the same.
2. Seller’s Declaration. The undersigned Seller agrees with her status of soulless and declares under penalty of perjury (and eternal torment in the bowels of Hell) that the statements herein contained are true and correct to the best of his or her knowledge, information and belief.
3. Seller’s Acknowledgements. The undersigned Seller is fully aware that upon departure from the mortal coil their eternal afterlife will be spent in damnation in Deepest Hell Most Foul, the Eternal Inferno and Realm of Lucifer (the Devil), Prince of Darkness, unless if the terms of observation X are fully completed. The Seller will be subject to the sadistic and murderous whims of Satan and his minions, including but not limited to: eons boiling in a vat of human excrement, Sisyphusian boulder torture, and having one’s liver removed daily by a demonic vulture while chained to the side of a freezing, impossibly high crag.
4. Purchaser’s Acknowledgements. The undersigned Purchaser accepts receipt of the soul described herein and understands and acknowledges that the soul is sold in “as is” condition without any guarantees or warranties of any kind, either express or implied.
5. The undersigned Purchaser agrees to return the eternal soul of the Seller if and only if the Seller amuses him enough, as explicated in the observation X.
6. Breach of Contract. Should the Seller attempt to unlawfully break the Bill of Sale agreement, their soul will be forfeit and subject to eons of unspeakable torture and violation before being jettisoned into eternal oblivion where the forsaken party shall be consumed by the fiery pits and face terrible things so unspeakable to be put into paper. Should the Purchaser attempt to break the Bill of Sale agreement, they will be subject to divine judgement and retribution.