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Merrill hasn't even pulled into the parking lot yet and faun's already halfway to a panic attack. Luckily, faun needn't worry about fauns shaking hands and fuzzy vision causing a car wreck since Fenris' sister is the one driving - if anyone can really be considered lucky in the presence of Varania, anyway. She's a cold one for sure, about as prickly on her best days as Fenris has ever been in its life.
Still, Varania's beat-up silver Pontiac isn't about to send the both of them careening into a ditch, which is good. It is, however, parking close to the curb outside the Wildervale Community Center, which is less good.
Merrill's breathing grows very heavy and very quick. Fauns stomach burns, a sour fist that grows and reaches up fauns throat, forcing faun to swallow down sick. Creators… Maybe Merrill shouldn't have stopped taking those anxiety meds. The world is spinning the wrong way.
"Are you-" Merrill turns fauns head to see Varania looking deeply uncomfortable. Her lip is pulled back, like she's offended that Merrill would dare to have emotions in her car. Then again, that may just be the natural resting point of her face. "Oh, you'll be fine . Stop that. Leto is already in there, if you need her."
It, faun wants to correct. If I need 'it'. Or 'reva', if you can't use 'it'. But Varania is already having a hard time accepting Fenris as it is, so faun's sure that anything else faun says will only worsen the issue. And re doesn't deserve that.
So, Merrill sighs shakily and nods. "Sorry," faun murmurs. "I'll, um. I'll be going now. Thank you very much for the ride."
"Mhm. If you two can't find a ride back, have Leto call me. I should be off work by then."
"Thank you." Faun hadn't expected that. Driving through the mountains just to get here is a long, annoying process, especially for those with weak stomachs (like Merrill), but there's nothing like this in Kirkwall. Merrill hadn't expected her to be so kind. "Thank you very much, Varania. Again."
And then faun's opening the door, stepping out on wobbly legs, and closing it behind faun. It barely falls shut and Varania shouts through the window to shut it again, so Merrill does. It's better this time. Faun almost wishes it wasn't - there's something so final about watching Varania drive away that really hammers home what's about to happen. What Merrill's about to do.
Why did that have to happen so fast? Nearly an hour's drive, over in an instant. And all Merrill can do is be pulled along forward by the passing seconds. Faun doesn't want to move.
Long after Varania's tail lights are out of sight, faun finally manages to turn faunself around. And there is it, standing tall and square: the place where dreams die.
You're being dramatic, faun tells faunself. It's just the Wildervale Community Center. It's a nice enough building, as far as buildings go, and there's rainbow flags up in the lit window, which usually means good things. This is fauns road to good things - a stepping stone! An important one. This can lead to so many good things if faun just walks through those heavy-looking, glass-windowed double doors.
Or it can lead to the same pool of hopelessness faun's been in since arriving in Kirkwall.
It's a 50/50 shot, really.
Merrill sits down on the curb, pulling fauns knees to fauns chest. It's been lonely since moving to the city; faun had thought faun spoke Trade just fine, but in the end, living here required learning a whole new language. Faun had to figure out where faun fit in the language, in the culture, in the people. Even among fauns people, there had been something which separated them - something which made Tamlen's eyebrows pull together in confusion, had Pol believing every rumor that came his way. In the city, it has been little different.
Not to say faun is alone, not really. Merrill has friends! Good friends. Varric, Isabela, Fenris, Hawke. People who care for faun and want faun to be okay. People that faun probably has texts from, if faun dared to check.
Faun looks over fauns shoulder, eyes drawn to the rainbow flags in the windows, to the paper sign on the door that undoubtedly says Genderqueer Game Night. It's silly to worry so much. There are people like faun in there. People who will like faun, right in that building, just behind the doors. At least one person is here that faun knows for sure fits both descriptions.
Still. Somehow that truth is more frightening than loneliness. Faun's been an other for so long; it's uncomfortable when people turn their smiles Merrill's way. I don't deserve them. They aren't meant for faun. None of this is meant for faun.
Gah, there faun goes. Didn't Dr. Taemen say that thoughts like that served only one purpose?
"To tell you what are certainly lies," faun grumbles under fauns breath. "Creators, I'm dense."
Then faun stands, smooths down fauns jean overalls, which don't need smoothing, and makes way to the door.