Work Text:
Merrill could have sworn she had taken a right before climbing up the stairs and browsing the vendors’ stalls scattered around the nice little landing in Lowtown, but the buildings all looked the same, and the humans mostly looked the same, and she couldn’t exactly ask any elves for directions to the Alienage, because she’d just look completely daft and like she had never been to the city before even though she lived there.
The red haired human woman who has been persistently trying to sell Merrill a whole lot of little shiny trinkets and baubles was giving her strange looks as she just sort of shuffled in place, stood smack in the middle of all the stalls. The stairs that led down didn’t lead to anything Merrill recognised, although maybe she did and just forgot, or hadn’t paid attention.
Kirkwall was a great big mess of new sounds and sensations and things, and it felt impossible to focus on any one thing, when the ground beneath her feet was completely different and kept changing all over the city, and when the people were so loud and proud and present, and the smells were completely new and distracting. Merrill tended to notice simple, familiar things, like flowers and small animals like cats and birds and even the rats the humans seemed to think were awful, even though they were just doing what rats were supposed to do. There were seagulls, too, the further down towards the docks you climbed, and they were loud, and many, but it was alright because they, too, were doing what they were supposed to do, and they were birds, and birds were simple, and normal.
A grumpy dwarf bumped into Merrill, and grumbled about her complete lack of manners under his breath. He might have called her a few rude names, too, which Merrill had only learned about very recently. There were so many horrible things about the world she hadn’t quite understood, having spent her entire life travelling with her clan. Her own people had been mean to her because she was a blood mage, but even though the hostility hurt, it was almost understandable, because it was fear, and uncertainty about what she could do, rather than snide remarks about the shape of her ears, or her bare feet.
Merrill rubbed one foot against her other ankle, while her eyes darted around, trying to find something she remembered and could use to navigate. Turning around entirely, she saw the bizarre statue of a man hanging upside down over the door of a—
The Hanged Man!
That’s what it was called, and it was a tavern, and Merrill knew Isabela and Varric might be there, and they would help her, because they were kind people, and would never call her stupid, or say rude, offensive things to her.
She very nearly tripped on her feet in her hurry to make it to the tavern, and ended up hopping through the door on one foot, trying to shake something sticky off the bottom of the other.
A great big wave of everything hit her immediately, as the door closed behind her. There were so many people, and the place was so small that everything was very, very loud and people were talking all over one another, and there was the smell of ale, both old and new, and the acidic stench of sick, and Merrill stood in place, frozen, like a ridiculous elf who had been dropped in the middle of a great big human city with no idea what to expect. Her feet stuck to the floor when she stepped further into the room, and she almost walked into a waitress who has carrying a full tray of drinks. It would have been a complete disaster, Merrill thought, a little anxiously. There were reddish brown stains all over the floorboards, and it looked a lot like old blood, and Merrill had so many questions she wanted to ask, but no one really to ask them.
“Kitten?”
Merrill turned to find Isabela walking towards her, a pint in hand, and her beautiful golden jewellery glittering in the orange light of the chandeliers that burned above. She had her usual crooked smirk on her lips, but it always looked kinder when she spoke to Merrill, and she hadn’t yet figured out why. Isabela was sharp and quick-witted, and she said a lot of things that implied some very fascinating dirty things, and Merrill found it completely captivating. Isabela was exciting, and bold, and somehow she still chose to be kind to Merrill.
“I got lost again,” Merrill confessed, once Isabela had reached her, and had taken Merrill’s hand in her own. She sometimes did that, and it was rather lovely, and she could have done it more, quite honestly.
“Oh, Merrill,” Isabela said, setting her pint down on a table within an arm’s reach, and she didn’t sound like she was laughing at her. “Do you need me to walk you home?”
Isabela squeezed her hand a little, and Merrill’s heart did a little flutter. She hoped she hadn’t blushed terribly, but just by the heat on her cheeks, she knew she had. Isabela’s eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled, and it wasn’t a crooked one, but a proper smile, with both corners of her mouth turned up.
“Yes, thank you, please,” Merrill said, nodding a little too much, but Isabela hadn’t let go of her hand yet, so she was a little conflicted about everything and couldn’t keep track of the proper, normal things she was supposed to do and say with other people who weren’t her clan or, more accurately, the Keeper.
“Let’s go then. This isn’t really your scene, anyway,” Isabela said, and Merrill immediately agreed. It was not her scene, and she definitely wanted to go, now. She nodded, again.
Isabela laced their fingers together and led her through the door and back outside, where the usual attack on her senses felt a lot less severe after the concentrated chaos and noise of The Hanged Man. And Isabela was holding her hand, which helped quite a bit, because Merrill had something very specific to focus on, now, and it felt really, really nice.
“Where were you going?” Isabela asked her, as they headed towards the stairs Merrill had been certain were the wrong stairs, but she trusted Isabela’s sense of direction completely. She had sailed the seas after all, and had always found her way home.
“I wanted to see if I could find any plants to have in my house,” Merrill explained, a little sheepish. “It’s so drab and dull and I hardly have anything in there, and I saw some plants on the window of one of the houses in Hightown, and they were inside, and I thought that might be something I could do, too! The vhenadahl is lovely, but it’s the only bit of nature anywhere here, and I just really miss it all, sometimes.”
Isabela laughed, a beautiful melodious sound, and squeezed her hand again.
“Tell you what,” she said, “I’ll make some arrangements, and I promise you’ll soon have an entire garden right at home.”
Merrill gasped in delight.
“Really? Nobody knew anything or wanted to help me when I asked around Lowtown. They said it was all… rich people shit, and that I was ridiculous for even asking.”
Isabela laughed again, louder.
“Never say shit again, Kitten. It sounds all wrong in your sweet voice.”
Merrill definitely flushed, but then she decided to be bold, too, and squeezed Isabela’s hand herself. She knew Isabela was joking, and that she didn’t mean Merrill had really said anything wrong. It was a wonderful thing to know. It was nice to be sure of something.
“Where would you even find plants that can be kept indoors?” she asked, looking up at Isabela, who was already looking at her, eyes and earrings sparkling in the sunlight that filtered through the high-up branches of the vhenadahl.
“I have no idea,” Isabela admitted, “but I’m really good at figuring out all kinds of rich people shit.”
It was Merrill’s turn to laugh, and then they were already descending the stairs that led to the Alienage, and she felt a little stab of disappointment in her chest. Isabela had promised to walk her home, and they were almost there, so she would soon say goodbye and go back to her usual spot at the bar, and—
“Would you like to come visit?” Merrill heard herself ask, much to her own surprise. “I mean, if you want to, even though I don’t have anything much to offer, and I really only have water and some stale bread that’s somehow too chewy and hard at the same time, but if you want we could just sit down and talk, only I have just the one chair, but I’m alright sitting on the flo—”
“Merrill,” Isabela stopped her, stepping to stand right in front of her, really very close. She smelled amazing, like the sea, and adventure.
“I’d love to come in and just talk,” she promised. “And I’m sure we can figure out a nice seating arrangement.”
Merrill nodded, six times in quick succession, and practically ran through the door, pulling Isabela along with her.
Getting lost wasn’t all that bad, really.