…we chase after ghosts and spirits and are left holding only memories and dreams.It’s not that we want what we can’t have; it’s that we’ve held all that we could want and then had to watch it slip away.
Summary: Ari'elle has long held a fascination for the humans, a love of the things they created. It wasn’t until she saved one that she thought she could fall in love with one of them, though. Determined to follow her heart, she made a dangerous deal with the Mage living within the forest, and then set out to join the Inquisition.
A world of Thedas retelling of The Little Mermaid!
Ari’elle giggled as she chased after the fire bugs. They always disappeared before she could reach them, but she didn’t care. It was all part of the game. They moved through the moss covered trees, flitting up and over roots that she had to climb up on to. They darted beneath the fronds of giant ferns that she crawled beneath. They flew high above her, and she would twirl beneath them, hands raised to the canopy of leaves spreading across the sky. Her tangled ringlets flew in the night air, bare feet sinking into the soft earth, as she spun, uncaring for how dirty she got her frock.
She was so happy to be allowed out in the night. She and Marron had gotten in trouble over just a silly little prank. All they had done was tie rattle sticks to First’s dreadlocks while he had been asleep. But First had been startled when he woke up, and that in turn spooked their halla. So she and Marron had had to study for the past two days, listening to hahren and Keeper speak for hours at a time. Ari’elle wrinkled her nose in the darkness. She didn’t like history. So much memorization made her fidgety.
The fire bug she was chasing doused his fire and disappeared, and she spun, looking for another to chase. To her left, moonlight streamed through the trees, and she laughed, running headlong to the brightness. She jumped from puddle of light to puddle of light, singing a song and dancing, the silvery moonlight burnishing her pale skin. A large broken tree lay on its side, creating a giant hole in the canopy of leaves. Ari spun in circles, staring up at the sky, spinning around so fast the stars all blurred together.
I envy the music lovers hear. I see them walking hand in hand, standing close to each other in a queue at a theater or subway station, heads touching while they sit on a park bench, and I ache to hear the song that plays between them: The stirring chords of romance’s first bloom, the stately airs that whisper between a couple long in love. You can see it in the way they look at each other… you can almost hear it. Almost, but not quite, because the music belongs to them and all you can have of it is a vague echo that rises up from the bittersweet murmur and shuffle of your own memories.