Chapter Text
This is your second and final chance, Mayara- don’t fuck it up this time. You’re welcome for the Internet connection, by the way.
I regained my senses and the only thing I could think was ‘Shit, that hurt’. I don’t know what hurt or even how it started hurting, I only know it hurts. Not a very precise way of describing, but there you go. Where am I? What happened? I feel like I’ve been run over by a horde of horses on steroids.
I groaned loudly, feeling a weird and sharp pain in the back of my head. I opened my eyes only to be greeted with the bright sun frying my eyes. Shielding them with the back of my hand, I told myself to seat up. It took a while to sit up, because I was pretty disoriented.
I was sitting down in some pretty uncomfortable rocky floor, and when my eyes adjusted to the lighting, I realized I was in the middle of a dark, gloomy wasteland. I couldn’t see anything in the horizon except the dark dirt floor, fallen rocks and smoke.
I’m confused.
So many things went on inside my head, yet so clear, I had doubts on what was real and what was not. Something in the back of my head told me I was not dreaming. But if this isn’t a weird dream, what is it?
I touched the floor with my hands and gathered some dirt with them. The dark dirt felt rough against my skin. I’m having too much control over myself.
What happened, though?
I remember a shady deal, a man, and falling but nothing else.
“Puta que pariu…{literally 'the whore who gave birth' but can be translated as 'holy shit'}” I cursed. I’m dead, or this is a weird dream, mainly because I rarely dream, and when I do, it’s this weird sequence in which I’m a hostage in Atlantis with a bunch of dolphins and Gordon Ramsay for some reason. I couldn’t see any dolphins, though, and unfortunately not Gordon. I take it’s a good sign.
However, I’m pretty much in control of what I’m doing for it to be a dream. What was it called? Lucid dreaming? I don’t know.
So, the only other logical explanation would be that I died and this place must be Satan’s realm. Literal fucking Hell. Sure looks like it. Where’s my boi Satan with the welcome party? I deserve nothing less than a party to celebrate me coming home. Really, I didn’t laugh at all those dark humor jokes for nothing. I always thought I’d have a place lined up for me in Hell, and that would be the throne.
I’m dead, and my first act as a dead soul in Hell is looking for Satan for instructions for my eternal suffering. Doesn’t look all that bad- this wasteland, I mean- math class was much more like ‘eternal suffering’ than this shitty place.
Where are all the lava pits and fire, people screaming and all the sort? Wasn’t that what Hell was supposed to be about? Yet I don’t see anything other than space. Shabby.
I tried to stand up and hopefully make some sense of this stupid situation, but for some reason my legs felt like jelly. Thankfully, I could find my balance and not fall down flat in my butt.
However, upon standing up, I noticed I was wearing my pink flip-flops. And not only that, I also wore nothing but my grey pajamas with Minion print I don’t remember putting on… Better yet, I don’t even remember owning such clothing. I hate Minions with all my heart.
Shit.
I dead? Maybe? And if did I not only die in the best clothing possible, but in the best footwear for a trip to Hell. Fantastic. I noticed my phone was inside my left pocket in my pajama pants, and that was something. Can’t go to hell without my phone, yeah? I have to take selfies with the devil and post them on Hellbook, Devilgram and Snapchatan. “Você só pode estar de brincadeira comigo…{You've got to be kidding me}”
I look around, shielding my eyes from the bright light and I noticed there was a foul stench in the air. I could recognize smoke in the air, but not much else. There was another noticeable smell I couldn’t recognize, but it smelled dead somehow. Anyway, I spotted a worn out path in the dirt, leading to a sort of hill area. I don’t have any other good leads so I might as well explore a bit until I find someone.
I cupped my hand around my mouth in order to amplify the sound, “Oi? Tem alguem ai? Satanás? {Hello? Is someone there? Satan?}” There were many loose and pointy rocks in the path, probably best if I don’t step on them with my flip-flops, can’t go around my new home with ugly feet. Squinting my eyes a bit, I saw a rather odd assortment of what I assumed were people, far in the distance. Halfway to the top of the hill.
My eyesight is kinda shitty for long distances which means I couldn’t see very well, so the people’s details were blurry- if the silhouettes are even people. Maybe they will know where I am, though! “Heeeeyyyyy!!! Vocês ai!! {Heeeeeyyyy! You there!!!}” I called out, waving my arms in hopes to call their attention. I hate calling attention to myself, especially in places I shouldn’t be, but that was my only option to find what the hell is going on.
The people suddenly stopped upon hearing my call and I could distinguish a tall man as he took a step towards my direction.
My heart skipped a beat as I wondered what the man would do. Would he drag me by the hair and take me to my final resting place? Would he sing obnoxious K-Pop music until the end of time? Who knows?
“Ei! Ajuda aqui, tio! {Hey! Help me out here, dude!}” I called out, a bit louder this time, taking a few steps closer to the group, waving my arms frantically. They didn’t look like denizens of Hell from where I was standing, however. But I don’t give too much credit to my shitty eyesight. Their spiky tails and horns could still be there.
“Look out! Behind you!” The man shouted at me. I noticed he shouted in English. Not my native language, but I’m decent at it, at least. I’m not surprised the language of hell is English…I mean, look at the United States. I understood what the man said, and turned around-
-only to find a fucking horde of skeleton things with weapons screeching like a ruined disk, just some two hundred meters from me or so. I stood there motionless for a few seconds, with an eyebrow risen, wondering, until the things started chasing me. Holy shit I’m not waiting around for those shits to get me. “Ai caralho! {literally 'oh dick' but can be more accurately translated as 'oh shit'}”
“RUN!” Someone shouted.
Bitch, don’t need to tell me twice!
I ran with all I had and as fast as I possibly could while with flip-flops. I’m surprised at how fast one can run while being chased by hellish things.
My feet didn’t move as fast as I wanted them to, and at every step I took my flip-flops gathered tiny pebbles inside them, cutting and scratching all over my pretty feet.
Ignoring the sharp pains in my feet, I ran screaming towards the group, looking back at my shoulder every second to seeing if I was running fast enough and keeping enough distance from those things.
Flip-flops are utter shit for running, and I don’t recommend them at all. Why do I say that? Because even in dream-land I can trip over myself and fall down into the dirt. Which was exactly what happened.
No matter, for I scrambled up and kept running, ignoring everything wrong with my body.
The people now were closer and therefore less blurry. My eyes adjusted and I could distinguish them.
The tall man from before had ran towards me, wielding what I assumed were daggers- accompanied by three other individuals running behind him. He became clear in my view as I approached him and he did me, and I realized knew his face. An all too familiar face- amber eyes, short black hair, spiky looking beard that needed some trimming… it was a face I’d seen so many times.
Hawke. Default male Hawke. He looked handsome, even- something I did not think while playing the game. To me, Default M!Hawke was bland as fuck, while F!Hawke was pretty.
So, if that’s Hawke…the others must be Carver and Bethany, and then Aveline- of course.
Damn, Satan, the graphics you created are amazing. I applaud you, truly. And the way you came up with my personal purgatory was pretty creative, kudos for you.
That was not something supposed to happen if I died, right? So I must be having some kind of Dragon Age-related dream. Not a surprising occurrence due to the insane amount of hours I’ve spent on that fucking franchise, but wouldn’t it make more sense if it were Dragon Age Origins? I had been going through my 7th play through with a Dwarf Noble… I don’t get it. Maybe my alarm will go off soon?
Despite all that, I knew now where this was supposed to be in this dream. I’d played through this scene too many times not to recognize it now. Ferelden. But not normal, simple Ferelden (of course not, why would it), I was in the middle of the fucking Blight.
Which would make those things behind me…
Darkspawn.
I suddenly stopped walking, figuring out I didn’t need to move an inch more because nothing could really harm me in my own dream. I was surprised, yet in shock at the same time.
I stood there motionless as the four individuals ran past me- not even stopping for a second, Carver almost bumping into me- and into the horde of darkspawn almost catching up with us.
I gave up running altogether, close to the two remaining people atop of it, which I assumed were Leandra and Wesley, Aveline’s husband, since both twins and the Templar were still alive meant Flemeth hadn’t shown up yet. If she ever will, that is, because I honestly have no idea about what is going on here anymore.
Are those dream-people even following the game script? Hard to tell, really. I for one am not waiting around to see if they are.
The sound of steel in steel, and magic in flesh were agonizing. I don’t remember dreams being so unpleasant, however.
Trembling a bit, I took out my phone from my pocket and observed there was signal available as well as data, for some reason? It’s probably weird dream shit.
I used my phone to check my SimCity town, because why the Hell not? I’m going to wake up at any time now, and it’s not like I can feel that much. I’m actually pretty invested in that game not to open the app in the middle of a dream. Fucking EA finding their way into my subconscious is probably a marketing tactic.
I wonder when they’ll start charging for micro-transactions inside my dreams.
I opened my game and managed my city like I normally would. Building new edifications and whatnot.
I managed even to ignore the very loud cries of battle over the other side of the wasteland. Kudos for me.
Distracted by my phone and oblivious to everything else, I didn’t quite notice as Dream-Hawke and Co. came close to me after killing all the horde of darkspawn. I had forgotten how Hawke was a freaking tank.
“That’s an interesting outfit choice,”
I let out a nervous chuckle, turning on my heel, “Excuse me, sir, but Minions are the latest fashion.”