Work Text:
[A worn note, the writing in the creases faded and almost illegible from being folded and refolded many times.]
Atisha’s guide to surviving away from the clan
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It is always time to harvest elfroot. Always.
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Shem think ‘why’ and ‘why not’ are sarcastic questions.
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Send your letters to grandfather, he always knows how to find us.
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Find other clans, learn their stories. Share ours.
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Don’t call them magic-blind because they’re not awake in the Beyond.
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Don’t wander too far from camp if you must go walking in the Beyond. I can’t call you back anymore.
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There is no communal property. Don’t pick up books that look like they’ve been left behind. They will be missed.
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Don’t climb the buildings. They’re not trees, shem are allowed to hide in them from you.
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Don’t flirt with the shem. They may want sex.
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Asking shem about themselves is flirting. DON’T FLIRT WITH THE SHEM.
I love you. Be safe.
[Tiny scraps of paper, collected from various spots around Lavellan camp, carefully flattened and pressed between the pages of a much-abused copy of ‘Thedas: Myths and Legends’.]
Take care of mother. [Left on top of a bed roll.]
Do not cut Hlan’s braid. They will know it was you. [Given by an amused Keeper.]
Send elfroot if you can. They might run out. [Found in an herb bag.]
Why haven’t you accepted his pelt yet? [Found in a hunter’s skinning kit. It is more crumpled than the rest.]
Write down new clansmen’s stories for me. What if I miss something important? [Tied to a loose sheaf of blank vellum.]
I owe you. [Found in an empty coin purse.]
What if the Templars arrest me there? [Hidden inside clothes left behind. The handwriting is shakier than the others.]
Why can’t I ask about the women with the bowls? What’s so holy about bowls? [Used as a bookmark in a shem book.]
I thought I told you to leave Hlan alone. [Found woven into the grip of the First's staff.]
I don’t know how to sleep without you there. [Handed to her by her mother after she wakes from a nightmare, hands reaching for the other she has always shared a bedroll with, only to find no one there. Half of herself gone, perhaps never to return, and mother rocks her as they both silently weep in the darkness, their lightning bug little bird flown.]
Be safe. I love you. [Whispered in every bird song, in every groan of the aravel, in every night's dreaming. Be safe, I love you, dar'eth, ma'arlath.]