Chapter Text
[Matrinalis 11, Dragon 20:14]
Dear Journal,
My name is Elora Lavellan, Era for short! I’m currently a Sophomore in High School and a new transfer student to Skyhold High. My parents move around a lot because my father is in the military. His most recent station brought us to Ferelden, though we consider our real home in the Free Marches. We’ve been all over Thedas, from Antiva to Orlais. I’m always the new girl and because of this I tend to keep to myself and have become a bit of a pro at blending in. Most of the time I can go unnoticed and end up counting down on the calendar until we leave again. I do make… ‘acquaintances’ here and there but we never speak much. It always turns out to be ‘friend and forget’ on the social networks. It works just fine for me because I can keep track of everyone and not worry about appearances, I guess. Dad promised we’d stay until I graduated, but he always promises that. Every time I end up in a new school he always tells me to find the adventure, for there is always one to be had. I’m not sure about this place, Journal. But what’s the worst that can happen? I’ll report my findings after my first day tomorrow. Thanks for listening!
Era out.
***
Era never quite understood the appeal of living near mountains. She never liked the colder air much, but she couldn’t exactly say ‘No, Dad, don’t do your job’ every time they moved. It was only a small part of her life and anything she could do to make it easier on her parents was an issue quickly solved in her mind. She pattered her way to school, clutching the books that wouldn’t fit in her backpack in her right hand and her phone in her left. At least they didn’t live far from the school, so she didn’t have to bug her mom for rides. She idly scrolled through her social networks to see how the people she met in the last town were doing, wondering if she were in their thoughts just as they were in hers. She came across a particularly silly looking picture of a nug and let out a bark of laughter which was abruptly stifled by her stumbling frame-first into the stiff body of another in front of her. The shock sent her flailing backwards, the fall being not-so-softly broken by her behind.
“Oh! I’m sorry, I wasn’t look--” Era glanced over the figure from her newly found seat on the ground, slightly wincing from the pain. The figure was tall and lithe, yet had a broadness about it. Her eyes trailed over the clothes and discerned the figure was male. He wore dark blue jeans that were loose around the ankles, and a little worse for wear at the knees; she noted the tattered tears and strings of flayed white hanging from the small holes that centered there. The jeans were held up by a thin, brown leather belt looped twice over; the second loop hanging slightly off his hip. A creme colored overshirt hung open and free, flowing with the wind. Era perceived a forest green undershirt that would have complimented everything well had it not been dotted with various colors of paint. Dangling around his neck was a sharp tooth tied into place with pieces of thin black string. A cleft dimpled his chin, and his lips. Oh, his lips. Lush, full, and stung pink from the cool breeze. His eyes--a piercing shade of blue and grey-- were staring directly at Era with a mixture of confusion, impartialness, and annoyance. An eyebrow was raised at her. Gods, how long had she been staring?
The glare startled Era into action and she scrambled to gather her askew books. She kept muttering apologies, but they were spilling out as stutters and half formed words. The male’s brow furrowed when she looked up at him. She couldn’t tell if he was disturbed or amused. Maybe both? She felt a blush creep onto her features as she gathered the remaining supplies in her arms and stood at attention. The crosswalk went green and he adjusted his sack of a backpack on his shoulder, giving Era a once over with a smug smirk, then began to cross the street. She stood there, slack jawed and mouth gaping. Nothing like awkward first impressions for the new girl. So much for going unnoticed. Era turned to cross the street when she felt something shift underneath her shoe. There was a scraping sound of wood and concrete before she lifted her foot, finding a paint brush underneath. She bent down to pick it up and, with it in hand, she tried to wave down the guy she bumped into.
“Hey you dropped your… brush.” She sighed, realizing he was already gone. She slid the brush into her backpack and continued on.
***
Era arrived on the school grounds, and though her family had already been given the tour during registration, the sheer size of the campus still astounded her. It seemed more like a college campus. The school was obviously well funded, and that always meant plenty of clubs to choose from. She couldn’t complain, it meant enough ways to stay distracted. Groups of students stood scattered in huddles across the lawn and against the trees lining the walkways. People eager to see their friends again after summer break. Laughter and chatter filled the air as she strode through the sea of fellow students. As always she kept her head down, pretending to fiddle with her phone in order to seem unapproachable. First days always made her uncomfortable. The faster she could find her classes the better.
At least that was the plan until she felt a rather large lump underneath her foot and heard a groan of pain follow shortly after to her right. Today was apparently not going to cooperate with her shameless scheme to stay out of sight. She froze where she stood, feeling the flush run from her face to her toes, and released a sigh of utter exasperation.
“Shouldn’t I be the one sighing with great annoyance?” Came a deep scruffy voice from the owner of the assaulted foot. “You going to move it, or?” The foot wriggled under hers.
“Ah, s-sorry,” Era stuttered, quickly removing her foot and stepping to the side, head still turned down and mind racing with words not unlike ‘Please don’t hit me.’
“No problem here, kid.” Era saw the feet turn to move then pause, abruptly turning back. “Say, I don’t think I’ve seen you before. You new?”
It was either the expression on her face, the way she clenched her books, or the way she stiffened at the mention that gave her away, because the voice let loose a throaty chuckle.
“You look like a halla caught in the headlights!” He let rip another laugh and slapped his hand on her shoulder playfully. After a moment of awkward silence he spoke, seemingly trying to end the tension. “The name’s Varric. Varric Tethras: class clown, aspiring journalist, occasionally plays for the football team -- one of those is a lie.” Varric offered his hand for a shake.
Era finally raised her eyes to meet his, though she didn’t have to make much of an effort. Varric was short in height, she towered at least six inches over him, and stocky in build. He wore buckled leather boots that made him look like he was ready to hop on a motorcycle and go. His light blue jeans draped over them, loosely fitting his form but held up by a black leather belt with a silver buckle almost big enough to use as a makeshift weapon if the opportunity ever arose. His shirt was tucked loosely into his pants, firebrick red in color with silver swirls climbing up the sides. He wore a thick gold chain around his neck, accented by the large gold ring holding it all together, resting beneath his collar bone. His chin was chiseled, and his dirty blonde hair was pulled into a half ponytail. One could almost say he looked… roguish. She moved her hand to meet his and offered a smile.
“Era. The name is Era Lavellan.” They shook hands briefly. His smile had a way of setting her at ease. He definitely oozed with charisma and, by the looks of his posture and expression, he knew it. “I was just trying to make my way to the office to pick up my schedule.” She retrieved her hand from his grasp and rubbed her neck awkwardly. It earned yet another chortle from Varric.
“You’re almost as bashful as Curly.”
“Who?”
“Ah, don’t worry.” Varric spoke while scratching his jawline, “You’ll meet him eventually and fall head over heels just like the rest of the girls in our school.” He turned to walk towards the steps at the front of the building and motioned his hand for her to follow. “C’mon, we have a good half hour before classes start. I’ll show ya around, and maybe you could tell me a bit more about yourself.”
Era nodded in agreement and hesitantly took to walking by Varric’s side as he pointed out where all of the best loitering spots were, made sure she knew where the bathrooms were located, informed her on where the library was with an amused voice. She found it curious how he left off about the library, wondering what was so entertaining about it. In time he coaxed her into laughing freely and telling him about how she came to be at Skyhold High, mentioning that she was a military brat. He discovered she was a year behind him, a sophomore. They eventually stopped by the administration office and gathered up her schedule for the year and he directed her along the most efficient path to get between her classes and her locker. Varric trailed his thumb over her schedule and spoke.
“Great, it looks like we have the same lunch period. Keep an eye out for me?” He gave her a wink as the bell rang and he dispersed. Era waved as she went off to her first class, ‘History of Ferelden.’ While taking her seat she realized just how swept away she had been with Varric and his endless chatter and information on the school; how quickly he got her to lower the guard she spent all morning building. A thought skipped across her mind that journalism might be the perfect career goal for him.
***
The first half of Era’s classes were a breeze. Since it was the first day of class it was mainly about getting to know the teacher, reading the syllabus, what to expect for the next semester, ways to earn extra credit, and so on. The lunch bell rang and it couldn’t have been more perfect timing. She was starving and almost a little eager to speak with Varric again. Was it weird that she found herself so attached so quickly? She’d never met another like him, and she found him fascinating just from the few minutes they spent talking. He swept in like a fairy godfather, guiding her in her time of need. She chuckled at the thought of him in a tutu while queuing in line for food.
It was a rather large, but modest, selection. Fereldans weren’t exactly known for their fine dining. They often kept to the simple meats, breads, soups, and cheese. She recalled the history teacher mentioning something about an old king and his obsession with fine cheeses and smirked. Today she would settle for a simple tomato soup and a small salad. If she’d chosen anything heavier she would surely find herself snoozing in class by next period. Era’s eyes roamed the lunch hall and it seemed everyone had already gotten settled in. The scenery may have changed, but the school’s social hierarchy always remained the same. The jocks would sit with the jocks, the drama geeks would sit with the drama geeks. It was both comforting and unnerving how similar she found almost every school she had attended. She paused, seeing a familiar face. It wasn’t Varric’s, but the guy she had bumped into on the way to school this morning.
Feeling emboldened by the bit of confidence Varric had instilled in her earlier, she made a beeline for his table. He was sitting alone, absentmindedly tugging at one of his black ear gauges while holding a book in the other hand. The food on his tray was pecked at and he would occasionally halt his reading to take another bite of the salad. She realized his hands were stained with little bits of paint and recalled his lost item was still in her possession.
“Excuse me, but…” Era trailed off when she saw he didn’t move at her voice, but simply turned the page in his book, completely unphased by the words directed at him. Her brow furrowed with discontent and she placed her tray down in front of him and hesitated for a moment. He still didn’t acknowledge her. She reached into her backpack, retrieving the paint brush and waved it over the pages of his book-- directly in his line of sight. A huff of air fell from his lips and tickled her hand.
“What?” He glanced up from his novel and stared her deadpan in the face, obviously perturbed.
“Your brush?” Era raised an eyebrow at him expectantly. When he didn’t answer she continued, “You dropped it this morning.” She waved it in his face again. Something curled on the corner of his lips, she couldn’t discern if it was a smirk or a wince. He grabbed the brush from her fingers, placed it in the knapsack next to him, moved her hand away from the pages with a nudge, and resumed his reading without a word. Her eyes narrowed at his apathetic response and it sparked something in her. She took a seat across from him and laid her book bag on the floor by her feet. His eyes peered at her from the top of his book. She couldn’t make his expression, it was well hidden by the pages he so deeply stuck his nose into.
Era gave a defiant shrug before he rolled his eyes, removing his gaze. She poured the dressing over her salad with an almost smug attitude. She could play this game too, though she wasn’t exactly sure why she bothered. Something about him intrigued her as they sat there in silence, in contrast to the cafeteria being filled with the chatter of hundreds of students. If it weren’t for the light slap on her shoulder and the recognizable titter that followed suit she wouldn’t have even been alerted to Varric’s presence.
“I thought I told you to come find me,” Varric teased as he took a seat next to Era. His tray was filled with meat, bread, and a bottle of apple juice.
“I had business to attend to.” She gave a shrug and looked at the nameless guy in front of her, taking a sip of water.
“What business could you have with Chuckles, here?”
“Chuckles?” Era raised an eyebrow, almost taking amusement in the name. It seemed the exact opposite of his demeanor and she almost wanted to laugh. She heard an agitated sigh come from behind the book, he was obviously not as amused as she.
“Do you two mind?” He growled, shooting a glare at the both of them from behind the novel. In that instant Era swore she felt a hole being burned in her forehead.
Varric looked to Era, and Era back to Varric-- a silent agreement was reached. They shrugged in unison and smiled.
“Nope.” They spoke in harmony and continued to chit chat. Varric asked how her first classes went, and Era did the same. The only respite in their speech was to take a bite and chew their lunch. At one point they exchanged numbers and found each other on the social networks. It wasn’t until ‘Chuckles’ slammed his book shut, giving a rather dramatic sigh of annoyance accompanied by a dirty glance, and stormed off that Varric and Era looked away from each other.
“So what’s his real name?” She finally asked.
“Why? Got a crush?” Varric teased through his mouthful of bread.
“No--” The answer spilled out faster than she wanted, but there it was. “His name can’t really be Chuckles, can it? His parents must not like him very much if that’s the case.” The quip earned a laugh from Varric and he nodded.
“That’s Solas. All around grump and brooding artist.” His head nudged in the direction Solas had left. “Why did you even sit here, anyway? He always eats alone and never talks to anyone unless they are a teacher or that squirrely foreign exchange student.”
“I kind of bumped into him on the way to school this morning and he dropped his paint brush. I was returning it.”
“You slam into Chuckles, and then you happen to stomp on my foot in not only the same day, but the same hour? You are either the biggest klutz in Thedas or you have the worst luck.” Varric goaded and Era rubbed her neck in the same awkward gesture she had done earlier in the day. She parted her lips to speak but was interrupted by the warning bell to signal the end of the first lunch period.
“Saved by the bell!” Era gave a quick smile, scooped up her backpack, and darted into the crowd of students emptying the cafeteria to flood into the halls. She made for the one class she was dreading, Alchemy.
***
Era shuffled through the doors of the alchemy building whispering the classroom number under her breath, scanning for which class to enter. She paused glancing at the floor map Varric had given her and rolled her eyes realizing she had it upside down. After correcting it, she about faced and took a left, muttering something about being an idiot. By the time she had reached the proper room she was already five minutes late. She peaked through the window, seeing the teacher writing something on the board and decided to attempt some stealth. While tip-toeing passed the door and through the rows of tables and snickering students, a voice rang from the front of the room with an expectant tone.
“I hope you aren’t planning to make this a habit, Miss…?”
The voice caused Era to still and straighten like a cat caught in a trap. She sighed, turning on her heel with a bashful look, and waved as an ashamed smile conquered her features.
“E-Era,” she stammered and shifted into a chair near the back of the class. “Sorry, sir. It won’t happen again. New to the school and all, heh.” She reassured while nervously tapping a pencil in her hand on the thick surfaced table.
The teacher skimmed a finger over the attendance chart and shook his head.
“I don’t seem to have an Era here.” He tapped on the paper in front of him.
“Oh, my full name is Elora Lavellan. I prefer Era.”
“Noted. Welcome to Skyhold High, Miss Lavellan. Now as I was saying,” he pointed at the dry erase board with a blue marker as the rest of the students settled. “The name is Maximilian Twist. However, every time someone addresses me as Mr. Twist I fight back the terrible urge to break into dance. So, please, unless you want to be blinded for all eternity, you may call me Max. Or Mr. Max. Or Milly. Actually, skip the last one. Max or Mr. Max works just fine.”
Max was fairly clean cut, as anyone would half expect an alchemy teacher to be. His black hair was neatly shaven on the sides and slicked back with hair product, giving off a light shine. A small eraser-less pencil was tucked snuggly behind his ear and thin, frame-less glasses. His face had a small amount of dark stubble to it, his five ‘o'clock shadow coming in sooner than most. The white polo shirt shifted while he continued to write down some bullet points, summarizing what to expect from the class. The shirt was tidily tucked into the brim of his khaki pants with a dark leather belt holding it all in place. The thing Era found curious was not the outfit, but his shoes. They seemed completely out of place and, if she were honest, completely gaudy. Bright blue sandals shifted under his weight; made of a shiny mixture of leather, plastic, and foam. A strap wrapped behind his ankles and white socks peered through the punch holes on the toebox.
“Labs will make up forty percent of your grade, and so--” Max continued, “I will be assigning lab partners tomorrow. You will all have a trial period of two weeks with your partners, at which the end of you may decide to stay partners or request a change. This change will only be made once, so choose wisely.” He let his voice drop a few octaves seemingly making an effort to sound ominous, and for an added effect he wriggled his fingers on either side of his face. The students responded with nervous chuckles.
“See? Was laughing so hard? School doesn’t always have to be boring. I will guide you through the world of alchemy and I guarantee you will have at least some fun while here. I find the education sinks in easier when you do. That’s how I roll.” Max struck a pose, crossing his arms over his chest, pursed his lips, and nodded his head. Era joined in on the laughter in the classroom.
Maybe alchemy wouldn’t be so terrible after all. The goof ball teachers were always the best.
***
Lavellan powered through the remaining classes of the afternoon and found herself organizing her locker in preparation for tomorrow. It was easier to have a system and it being the first day none of the books were actually required for homework. She lined the books in the order of which classes came first, then neatly taped some sketches she doodled during art class to the locker door. Overall it was a fairly successful first day, despite practically mowing down Solas, stomping on Varric’s foot, and arriving late to alchemy class. Maybe there is adventure to be had here after all. Era was lost in thought while gazing at a sketch she drew of the school’s courtyard. It was light in detail, but the architecture had mainly been her focus. The pathway marked with trees led from the foreground and skewed back, framing the stairs at the front of the school. White columns held up the overhang with the words ‘Skyhold High’ in bold letters, a small birds nest rested in the O. She smiled. It had not been her best work but she recalled the art teacher’s words from earlier in the day: “An artist has one hundred bad pieces in them before they make the one that amazes.” She shut her locker and made to head home.
***
[Matrinalis 12, Dragon 20:14]
Dear Journal,
The first day was definitely an experience! On my way to school I literally ran into this guy. To top it all off: he was cute. If slamming into the cute kid wasn’t enough I stomped on this other student with my big feet. He turned out pretty cool though! Of course my plan to be invisible goes completely to pot. I don’t know why I even bothered, things never work out the way I want them to. But today, I’m thinking that wasn’t so bad. I could swear the gods answered my prayers through him. His name is Varric, seems too charming for his own good though. Not entirely sure why he swooped in like a wisp from some Dalish fairy tale and decided to take me under his wing as it were, but I can’t complain. He made me feel way less awkward. Oh, turns out the student I bumped into this morning dropped his paint brush and I returned it to him at lunch. I know he seems like a painter but maybe he could be a sculpt artist, too. At least then it would give him an excuse to have a chip on his shoulder. Varric calls him Chuckles and I’m tempted to join in on it. He’s so smug it’s almost infuriating. ANYWAY, the classes were great and there seems plenty to do. I’m going to check out the clubs later in the week. Bound to be something for me, right? Seems dinner is ready! Catch you later, Journal.
Era out!