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[CozyRanger]

Bryliax Ralaferin
Interactions: LadyOfStars RikuXIII

​

As that magical flame burst into existence and set a gentle orange glow over their pale surroundings, the Grey Warden paused in her arranging of the fire. She didn't have a magical bone in her body, used to relying on nature to provide all she needed to survive. Now there was a mage with fire, she felt little need to waste time rubbing sticks together to cause a spark. A large hand gestured to the campfire, suggesting Manis use his mastery of the elements to make her job easier.

"I've not had many chances to fight alongside mages. There are plenty in the Grey Wardens, of course, but I'm usually assigned to tasks alone or in a small group." Just the way she liked it, if she was honest. The more you add to a group, the more she felt the need to protect. It was easier to track your allies when there was only one or two. She considered how a mage with such talents could control a larger battlefield, though, and it excited her. She longed to experience it.

Assuming the fire was lit, she held her hands over the flames to warm them and then tucked them under her armpits to keep them going cold. "I think it's clear where my talents lie." She nodded her head towards the battleaxe she had set down. "My position is on the frontline in a battle, holding the monsters back and praying to the Creators that my axe is enough to bring them down if I'm travelling solo."

As the subject of books and reading was discussed, the Warden went quiet, content to listen whilst she had nothing to offer.

"You must have a great deal of patience, Aasha, to be able to do what you do."

 

[blue UP]

“Eh, of course I talk about the Stone like that. The Stone birthed us, and when we die, we go back to it. The Stone don’t care what we do the middle, and it sure as shit don’t have a taint.” Grem could tell that he had pissed off the human. While he would usually take an interest in poking at the subject, some more like a wound trying to heal, he instead let his arms fall to his side. “Aye, but I get it—if you started spittin’ about how you’d wipe your ass with the Stone or whatever weird things you lot do up here—I’d be fumin’. While I ain’t no follower of Andraste, I’ll be sure to keep her precious visage out of my mouth. Specially if we’re goin’ to work together.”

Grem focused on the human, noting that he was aware of something else afoot in the basement. It only took a half-breath longer to see a figure darken the doorway of the already dark basement. He nearly spit—again. The human remarked to the other figure, one that was seemingly more effeminate than the holy man but hardly much different. That was the nature of things, right? You’re on the surface; be prepared to be nagged by so many humans.

He caught the little glance the holy man gave him, and a wry smile crossed his lips. “Eh? Did business with the Lord of Fortunes once. That was an experience.” He didn’t care to elaborate further. “Right. Bloody feck, I forgot about introductions. Grem Roecudan. Carta representative, though I’m sure you also already figured that out. Not a smuggler. I take care of you tall lot that love to get busy with demons.”

^{MENTIONS none INTERACTIONS cwosont orpheus.} ​

 

[elanara]

​

E L R I A N
____________________

It's obvious what he was when he walked up to them. Black feathers around the shoulders with a faint indigo hue. Indigo lined cloak over a blackish-indigo sable doublet. A steel, crow-shaped clasp holding said cloak together at the base of his neck and collarbone. Not to mention his sword and the slew of knives strapped to his belt. Didn’t take a genius to figure out he was an Antivan Crow—a member of the deadliest assassin organization in all of Thedas.

That’s right—for some reason Elrian couldn't explain, the Crows got wrapped up in helping fight off the end of the world. He was aware that a former member of his house assisted in a similar matter years ago. And now, apparently, it was his turn to do the same.

Couldn't say he was too happy about that. He was much more content working by his own damn self alone, dealing with one target at a time at a pace he was free to set at—for the most part—his own leisure. But alas—his superiors gave him orders. And Elrian, being the ever most loyal servant person he was, accepted the task—reluctantly, begrudgingly, and with the greatest look of displeasure on his scarred up face.

This is how he found himself standing in the freezing fucking cold in a small village tucked away in the Frostback Mountains.

They called it Haven. Elrian didn't know why. Didn't look or feel like much of one. The place was in a state of near ruin after being destroyed years back, though it appeared in certain areas they had attempted to rebuild. Most of the townsfolk he passed on his way to the meeting place flat out ignored him, and those that didn't only regarded him with unwelcoming stares. Understandable. Given their history, he could see why they were wary of outsiders.

At any rate.

As he continued walking, the monument finally came into sight. As did two figures, both women. One human, and one staff-wielding elf. A mage.

God fucking dammit.

Elrian stopped dead in his tracks just then, fists clenching tightly at his sides, and it was all he could do to keep from turning right around and heading back the way he came. He strongly fucking disliked hated—was it hate or was it fear, hm?—mages. Didn't matter what they were: elf, human, Qunari. A mage was a mage. He didn't like em. Didn't trust em. He sure as shit didn't feel like working with one of them, either. But he couldn't just turn around and leave. To go against the orders of the Antivan Crows would not be in his best interest. And he knew nothing good happened to those that did.

Taking in a deep breath, Elrian exhaled sharply through his nostrils. Stuffed his anger someplace six feet under years of endless screams and a thousand sleepless nights. He buried it there. Slammed the lid shut. Then he relaxed his fists, and, with another deep breath, pushed forward.

The two women were engaged in conversation when Elrian finally approached, the frozen ground crunching beneath his footsteps.

A sudden gust of wind just then. Sharp and bitter cold. All the way down to the bone. The hood covering his head fluttered in its wake, and a rogue strand of red hair fell across his face, briefly acting as a divider between the half that was perfectly smooth and unblemished, and the other half that was scarred to all hell. With a gloved hand he pushed it back behind a pointed ear.

"Apologies for interrupting." Elrian uttered, flatly. Though he was an Antivan Crow, he lacked the Antiva accent. If anything, his was more plain sounding, which meant he was from somewhere else.

Not that that was important right now.

For a brief moment, he turned his head and glanced at the large slab of stone with the names of the dead etched into it. Regarded it haphazardly with a "Hmph," before snapping his attention back to the two in front of him. His eyes landed on the elf for less than a second. The look on his face was even colder than the air around them.

But then the coldness in his gaze melted away, leaving behind a more casual, neutral expression, landing somewhere between not too friendly, yet not an enemy, either.

"I'm here at the request of the Chantry." He said, turning to the human this time. "I take it the two of you are as well?"

_________________________________________________________________

WITH: JOHANNA & OCTAVIA | MENTIONS: ThatGuyWithSouvlaki and KingofAesir

 

[ThatGuyWithSouvlaki]

Name:
Johana Marie de Penthièvre
Mentions:
KingofAesir elanara
Interactions:
KingofAesir elanara
​

Johana had felt foolish in front of the necromancer, showing too much of her doubt and pain to a person who she barely knew. Yet, she did not know what she wanted to happen. Part of her wants to just say something and interrupt any answer to the question, making some excuse and leaving. Another though, wanted an answer, wanted any comfort she could get from the strange women ahead of him. It was a strange sense of indecision, one she did not like and she wished she grew some spine and just make a decision finally. However, the choice was taken from her, she heard someone approach and turned to see a red haired man approached them. The man's facial scars and flowing red hair were striking, but what she noted more was a contained anger which seemed to be a match to her own angst. Where did that come from? She could not help be curious, though the choice stolen from her by his distraction did not exactly help him gain favour from her at all.

Another person, another complication she did not need, and she really wished she could just leave for her room and be at peace until she was needed for some mission. However, she was an agent of the inquisition in service to the Chantry and therefore something of a host to this meeting. She had to play the guide, those were her orders. She took a deep breath and turned to him, making sure to focus on him fully. He had the build of a warrior, however the plumed black feathers and dark clothing implied not just a soldier of an average organization.

"Indeed, you are in the right place, crow. I hope you're here for what you say instead of using a brazen attempt to get to your target." She replied. Her tone was as flat as him and with her expression it was hard to tell whether she was being genuinely suspicious or just giving him a little hard time because of his interruption. "I am Johana Marie De Penthièvre, agent of the Inquisition and aid to the Inquisitor. We are still waiting to be called in for the briefing on why we are here. You haven't missed anything yet, latecomer" She said in a rehearsed monotone like saying what she was required to say. .

 

[RikuXIII]

Aasha
Mentions:
Interactions: LadyOfStars CozyRanger​

Aasha suppressed a grimace as as Manis spoke again. He was also being cagey about his past and capabilities, much like herself. The demon was making her too paranoid. Gaining trust was a game of give and take. You had to let the target think you were opening up to them to coax them to do the same. Even with her recent experience with a mage, she needed to remember how this game was played.
"Such books aren't exactly approved of, no." The Qunari conceded to Manis. "But there are things permitted a Ben-Hassrath when in the field. Like you, my interest in Tethris' writin' was analyzin' his more historic writings for information. Other books of his were...generously given by people thinkin' I liked his works."
"And you wouldn't jump at the chance to get a signed copy from the dwarf, would you?" The demon teased.
Aasha rubbed her nose to cover her discomfort at the demon's insertions into her thoughts. It was clear it was enjoying itself here. Aasha found her gaze drifting to Brayliax. The Gray Warden seemed an open book compared to the shadowy game of intrigue she and Manis were imbroiled in. No need for lies, just a firm purpose and methods. Here and now with everything she had been through, Aasha was very envious of Braylaix.
"The impatient die quickly in my work." She said to the Warden in a distant tone. Her gaze switched to the fire.
She continued to watch the fire, the weight of the situation settling on her. Despite all her training and resolve, she felt lost.
"Do you think we can actually pull people together to save the world this time?" Came Aasha's voice, speaking her inner thoughts.
There was a moment of shock on Aasha's face as she realized the demon had voiced her thoughts to the others. She regained control and gave her two companions an apologetic smile.
"Sorry. Again, long journey."

 

[KingofAesir]

coded by xayah.ღ

Octavia Reinhardt

Haven Memorial

The sudden arrival of the Antivan Crow added a peculiar energy to the already intriguing scene at the monument. Octavia had spotted the man’s dark silhouette approaching from the corner of her eye before he stopped in his tracks, his entire demeanor screaming reluctance. Oh, how interesting. Octavia was positively brimming with excitement. His distinctive attire left little doubt about who he was—or at least what he was.

Her curiosity sparked anew, she glanced briefly at Johana, perhaps to assess her reaction to their new friend, before turning her attention back to the newcomer. His hesitation at approaching was palpable, his fists clenched and body tense as if stepping closer might physically pain him. She did so enjoy the drama of it all.

"Well, now," she said with a soft chuckle, folding her arms loosely across her chest. "You look like you just saw a wraith walk out of the Fade, good ser. I assure you, we’re far less menacing than that."

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze assessing but not unkind. "I’d tell you there’s nothing to worry about, but I do tend to have a habit of keeping people on their toes. Makes life more exciting, don’t you think?"

Without waiting for his response, Octavia returned her attention back to Johana, the somberness of their earlier conversation not entirely forgotten. "As for your question," she said gently, "I think you’re right. The dead may not notice such things as we think of it. But spirits do; they can see and appreciate differently than we."

She paused, letting the words settle between them before adding with a small, wry smile, "Besides, I happen to think the Maker appreciates a good aesthetic. Don’t you agree?"

Then, with an almost theatrical pivot, she turned back toward the Crow, her grin widening. "But where are my manners? I am Octavia Reinhardt of the Mourn Watch," she declared, extending her hand toward him with the same flourish she’d offered Johana earlier. "And you, my fashionable friend? What foreboding a Crow brings to this little piece of frozen misery."



ThatGuyWithSouvlaki

elanara

 

[LadyOfStars]

Manis Beauchamp

Mentions:
RikuXIII CozyRanger​

As Bryliax backed away from the arrangement of sticks Manis brought his palm to his golden lips and emptied his lungs as he blew on the conjured flames. The fires cascaded down through the icy air like a wave and crashed upon the campfire. Right away their hunger started to consume the wood and their little campsite was wrapped in its warmth. "How reassuring to know the Wardens trusted you to handle missions on your own." Manis praised as he tucked his own arms back into his cloak. Secretly he hoped that this woman lived up to the stories she told, otherwise they'd be in trouble.

"Hm...a similarity between us?" His Orlesian accent saturated the inquiry as Manis mocked Aasha. Both of them having read the same book for the same purpose was likely to be where their mutual experiences ended. Her role was apparently well earned and although he wanted to poke and prod, he had no reason to. The Qun and their agents weren't his problem. Yet. But what shocked him was her sudden show of uncertainty and...vulnerability? it was made all the more weird by her following statement. "I doubt this new threat will require 'people' in the sense that quantity is the solution. I think what we will need are people with unique and specific skills who, like you and I, will work together regardless of ideals."

Something about their spy friend was peculiar, but diagnosing her quirk would require more time. Luckily they would be working alongside one another and Manis needed a constant distraction. "Bryliax, did I hear you say 'Creators' and not The Creator?" Faith was a touchy subject for some, but how could he resist asking the Daelish human more about herself.

 

[CozyRanger]

Bryliax Ralaferin
Interactions: LadyOfStars RikuXIII

​

The warden's eyes flicked towards Aasha when she voiced her concerns. It immediately garnered her respect for the Qunari, to be able to voice such worries aloud to two almost-strangers. More people needed to be upfront with their feelings - it would solve a lot of unnecessary conflicts.

"For all the discord in Thedas, the one thing we all know how to do well is come together when it's needed." She offered as a beam of hope to the other woman. She knew of the Inquisition, at least, and how many different races and factions joined to help stop the breach. If there really was a disaster coming, she was sure people would take up arms and join the fight.

She just hoped there wasn't a fight to begin with. Especially not a blight.

The question of faith came up, and Bryliax wasn't too surprised to hear it from the elf. Her tattoos often became topic of conversation, she was used to explaining herself by now even if the past didn't exactly fill her with joy.

"You did. I was raised by a clan of Dalish elves." She gestured to her face and then smiled. "I owe them my life, actually. They found me as a babe abandoned in the forest they were passing through."

 

[elanara]

​

E L R I A N
____________________

“I hope you're here for what you say instead of using a brazen attempt to get to your target."

"I'm not." Elrian said, matching her tone. Fortunately for you.

It was hard to tell whether she was regarding him with suspicion or humor. If it was suspicion, Elrian didn't blame her for it. She was smart to do so. He knew he didn't have the most welcoming presence, and that the look on his face wasn't helping much, either. It only made sense that she regarded him with the same amount of steely-eyed skepticism he was giving her.

And she could keep doing as much as she liked. Didn't bother him one bit. After all, they didn't have to like each other. They just had to tolerate each other enough to work together. And if there was one thing Elrian was good at, it was keeping things professional. Mostly.

So that's what he settled on, shoving every ounce of judgment and prejudice he harbored toward this complete stranger to the sidelines. He visibly relaxed, shifting his weight onto one leg and resting a hand in the nook between his waist and the hilt of his sword, fingertips gently brushing the cross-guard. His typical at-ease stance.

Then she introduced herself, and curiosity briefly flashed across his eyes.

"I am Johana Marie De Penthièvre.”

Fancy name for a fellow knife-ear. It was the kind of name only an Orlesian noble would have. But, if Elrian recalled correctly, Orlesian nobles were typically human, as the likelihood of elves rising to such a high ranking social status in Orlais was extremely slim. No. Not slim. Impossible.

Interesting—but not enough for Elrian to care to ask. Not when he had all the information on her he needed to know. Who she was or where she came from or how the hell she ended up with a name like that was her business, and her business was none of his concern. And even if he wanted to make it his concern, the lady with the snake tattoo on her face was quick to chime in, cutting off his train of thought.

"You look like you just saw a wraith walk out of the Fade, good ser. I assure you, we’re far less menacing than that."

How comforting, Elrian thought sardonically as she addressed him. He would have said it aloud were it not for the fact that she subsequently turned to the elf—er, Johana—again (something to do about the discussion they were having before he showed up) only to finally wind up bringing her attention back to him.

"But where are my manners? I am Octavia Reinhardt of the Mourn Watch."

Another noble-sounding name. But it wasn't her name that Elrian cared for. It was what came right after that. The mere mention of Mourn Watch made him visibly bristle with distrust all over again. And if she was a Mourn Watcher, that also very likely meant she was part of the Mortalitasi—an order of necromancers founded by a Tevinter mage.

For fuck's sake.

When Snake-Tattoo—Octavia—extended a hand, Elrian simply glanced down at it, then back up to her, the look in his eyes colder than the second gust of winter wind that blew past. Her friendly demeanor meant nothing to him as he blatantly ignored her offer, keeping his own hand right where it was.

"Elrian Arainai." He uttered, short and sweet. There was no "pleased to meet you" or "pleasure to make your acquaintance." Only the name, and nothing else.

Oh—and as for the last thing Octavia said:

"One could say the same about a death mage." He replied back, not bothering to hide his judgmental stare.

_________________________________________________________________

MOOD: MOSTLY PROFESSIONAL MY ASS | FIT: KINDA LIKE THIS?? BUT WITH A HOOD ( : | WITH: JOHANNA & OCTAVIA | MENTIONS: ThatGuyWithSouvlaki and KingofAesir

 

[ThatGuyWithSouvlaki]

Name:
Johana Marie de Penthièvre
Mentions:
KingofAesir elanara
Interactions:
KingofAesir elanara

​

The crow seemed to give totally the opposite energy from Octavia. There was gloom and mistrust radiating out of him so much that even Johana, fully aware she was far from a paragon of positivity herself, found a little excessive. Certainly did not help build any trust or excitement about potentially working together. The mortalitasi was irritatingly positive, but there was something in her manner that seem to inspire some trust, weird and uncomfortable as it might be. She was not sure what to make of the crow, he seemed too obvious to be suspicious, and she could not talk about guarded and mistrustfully but then again there was something so off putting about him that she was not sure he should be part of the group or maybe even someone worth using.

She looked back at Octavia, mildly surprised that she would still answer her question. It was not a very comforting answer, she wanted to know about the dead, not to please the whims of fickle spirits. However, she would not comment about it further, speaking a little bit of her troubles was mortifying enough with one person she would not countenance doing so with two people, especially him. She just nodded and looked at the two as Octavia introduced herself to the Crow. There was an interesting subtle reaction to the red-headed crow's face at the introduction, she was very sure was some sort of surprise or fear. Not unexpected for a necromancer to get that sort of reaction but this seemed more. It was more apparent when he seemed to go as far as refusing her offer of a handshake. He really did not like her kind it seems. Worst still there was no more common courtesy even in his introduction.

"I don't think so personally. When it comes between a caretaker of the dead and one that makes more dead. I think the latter one is more foreboding." She commented, in her sardonic and pointed manner, hearing the crow call Octavia as a Death mage. "My friend here is not a death mage, common misconception as it might be, I dont think paid assassins have any moral high ground to be so judgemental, not to mention distortions." She added before smiling. "Still, we are here to work together to deal with a threat. If there is any issue here let it be sorted now rather than when it is too late." She looked at the crow in particular when she spoke. "Have an issue with mages.... Was one the cause of that." She said lazilly indicating her face the area were the crow had his scars.

 

[KingofAesir]

coded by xayah.ღ

Octavia Reinhardt​

Haven Memorial​

"One could say the same of a death mage."

If Octavia were a lesser woman she might have lost her head. But—and she was very upset about this now—she was not a lesser woman. A level head was a virtue. She had to try terribly hard to remind herself of this as she lowered her unshaken hand back to her side. A death mage! Really! Octavia looked down at herself in the most subtle way she could manage while Johanna—who seemed to have decided that this their new friend's hostility was not to be taken lightly—spoke to Elrian with much less venom in her voice than Octavia herself would have afforded. She didn't think she looked particularly death mage-ish. Perhaps, and she admitted this only silently, she had gone a little overboard with the jewelry. But she could hardly be blamed for an unappreciation of gold death motifs. It was decorative!

Octavia snapped back to the conversation at the mention of assassins, scrambling to catch up with the pace of the words. She had been lost in her own musings, momentarily drifting away from the present. Her eyes flicked from Johanna to Elrian, the biting cold air stinging her cheeks, but she fought to keep her composure.

She stifled a laugh when Johanna insinuated that the scar across Elrian's face was the work of a mage. She wasn’t about to fan the flames of their tension, but it did amuse her that such a suggestion could be made so easily. Clearing her throat, she raised her hands in a placating gesture—the rings on her fingers catching the muted light of the overcast sky. The glint made her think perhaps she had indeed gone overboard with the jewelry.

"Now, now, let us not lapse into hostility." She made a point to glance between them both, "It’s terrible for the skin." A broad grin cracked her face as she returned her hands to a folded position in front of her, glancing once more at the memorial behind her, where snow had begun to collect in the hollows of the markers.

"Elrian, my friend, I assure you I am no mage." She gestured to the rapier at her waist, the blade glimmering faintly against the grey backdrop. "But, we would have need of those with such talents when dealing with matters of the Fade. You must know this."

She glanced briefly at Johanna, the weight of the atmosphere pressing in. The frigid air invaded her lungs, each breath like ice creeping down her throat.

"Acting as enemies will get us nowhere, friends." The words, though meant to soothe, felt hollow against the sorrowful quiet. She gave a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh. No matter how much the drama might keep her entertained, the stillness of the place had a way of dampening even the most frivolous of moments.

ThatGuyWithSouvlaki

elanara

 

[elanara]

​

E L R I A N
____________________

Well fuck. He was wrong.

It was an honest mistake on his part, but still. Didn't change how he felt. Not one single bit. And if she—Snake-Ta—oh fucking hell—Octavia—was expecting some sort of apology (apologies? what were those?), then she was wrong too. The look on his face did, however, betray a sliver of remorse he felt for his incorrect assumption. But only briefly—it was gone as quickly as it came.

As for the elf.

“I don't think paid assassins have any moral high ground to be so judgmental.”

Elrian merely shrugged at that. Sure, she had a point, but it was more than abundantly clear that he didn't give a flying fuck. As for her remark about his scar.

“Have an issue with mages…was one the cause of that?”

Elrian blinked. The way she said it felt as though she meant to insult him. If that was true, then it hardly worked. He wasn't an idiot. He knew what he looked like. Had accepted it a long time ago. There was a strange sort of calm on his features as he looked at her. No anger. No distrust. No staring ice-cold daggers through her eyes and out the back of her skull. Just pure, clean emptiness.

“A Tevinter mage, to be exact.” He bluntly confirms, offering up just that one little morsel of information regarding his background, and nothing more. He didn't say anything beyond that. Didn't need too. A shrug before he added: “Though not a very good one.”

Afterward, Octavia spoke once again, and Elrian turned his attention back to her. "Elrian, my friend, I assure I am no mage. But, we would have need of those with such talents when dealing with matters of the Fade. You must know this."

She was right. They both were. Only a mage's power would be able to seal the Fade. Either way, it made little difference to him. He wasn't going to budge on his stance towards mages. And why should he? It wasn't like he chose to be here in the first place.

“Let's get one thing straight,” Elrian began. “Mage or not, we are not friends. I'll do what's needed on my end to help with whatever it is we are being called to do, but beyond that, don't expect anything else.”

It was a fair offer, he felt, and the best one they were gonna get.

“Understand?”

_________________________________________________________________

MOOD: SORRY NOT SORRY | FIT: KINDA LIKE THIS?? BUT WITH A HOOD ( : | WITH: JOHANNA & OCTAVIA | MENTIONS: ThatGuyWithSouvlaki and KingofAesir

 

[ThatGuyWithSouvlaki]

Name:
Johana Marie de Penthièvre
Mentions:
KingofAesir elanara
Interactions:
KingofAesir elanara

​

Johana looked at Octavia with a mock look of being affronted by her comments. "Me? Acting like Enemies? I assure you as a former lady of the Orlaisian court, I am being the very modicum of friendly, at least for me." She said with exaggerated air of dignity and nobility, clearly made for the benefit of humour. Still, she was curious and mildly surprised that Octavia was not a mage, she just seemed to have that bearing in her mind. True she had the Scythe but Johana was trained as a knight enchanter, she could use a weapon while casting magic. There was some interest on how warrior worked in her order and if some quasi magic was infused, akin to reavers, templars or spirit warriors. Maybe something she could learn from for her own techniques. This woman was getting more and more interesting to her.

However, any interest was quickly but aside and distracted by the moody elven crow reacting to their comments. She could not help grin at him, seeing something of herself in him. Did she look so petty and childish when she was in one of her moods like earlier? Why did it not put off Octavia then and not now? Regardless, she continued to look at the crow with a continued look of amusement as he laid out the law, appearing to her like a little Mabari pup trying to look tough. "You know, shrugging at comments then going on a hissy fit about being a big tough boy needing nobody is kind of contradictory. Are you casual or tough brooder? Pick a lane. Better yet, get over yourself, please. I spend three days in castle dungeon being tortured by Venatori, you dont see me be all moody and woes me. Well, maybe a bit..." She said with a grin. "Still, you cant decide not to make friends, take from someone with experience, the somehow happen anyway. Even if my worst and most stressful during my time after the Elder one, I had people coming to me to chat or invite me for drinks. Annoying as it was, likely why i am still here today."

She then moved her hands to indicate towards Octavia. "Case in point. Earlier, I wanted to be alone and tried to be as off-putting as possible. Yet, here she still here, with her annoyingly chipper attitude and chatty nature. Most irritating though is she somehow managed to make me feel a little better and worse, i actually somehow winning me over." She added before raising a finger at Octiavia. "No... No comment about what I just said, or i will turn you a toad. I dont know yet how to do that but trust me i will find away even if it is just through straight force of will." She turned back to the crow. "Now play nice and i will play nice in turn. Leave comments about not here of making friends to immature children, just see how things go. At this rate, you will get your wish anyway."

 

[RikuXIII]

Aasha
Mentions:
Interactions: LadyOfStars CozyRanger​

Aasha digested the reactions to the demon voicing her thoughts. Manis made a point that was almost Qunari in it's philosophy. You did not expect the traders and farmers to rise up and protect the lands, that was what the Antaam and even the Ben-Hassrath were for. Those of the right path in the right positions for the good of all. Despite the chaotic nature of Bas societies, they did seem to still have enough properly placed talent to stave off Blights before. The Grey Warden's were already taking interest, so pieces were already coming into place. Whether the Mage had meant to or not, his words helped Aasha steel herself. Right people, right place, all for the greater good. That's what she had to focus on.
Bryliax's response was more what Aasha expected. A broad optimism that even after years in Orlais, she couldn't fully comprehend. But while that sentiment would have annoyed her coming from many an air headed human, Bryliax managed to express it in a way that felt endearing. The bas faith in "higher" beings seemed to allow them to hold on to noble notions, even as everything was crumbling down around them. Aasha hoped that the Warden's faith was not misplaced.
"Theology among the other cultures and races is somethin' that both fasinates and enfuriates the Ben-Hassrath." The Qunari slipped in, thankful for a shift of topic to something she didn't have to be guarded on. "Whether Andrastian or Dalish, there's a mix of truth and lies that is hard to combat. Rumors of returned Elven gods swirl, but they don't seem to be bringin' much hope to their faithful."
Her eyes narrowed slightly on her compaigns. The demon wanted her to ask a question, but she didn't need it's prompting to want to continue.
"How has this affected you, Bryliax? And you, Manis? Is your faith in the Maker or those of your people?"