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After the conversation with Norrington, she has to speak to Pel. She has to figure out what in the void is going on around here, and what it might mean for the future. So when she sees Pel in the garden, she approaches her. It's quiet here, easier to not be overheard.

"Pel." She says softly, fingers interlacing together cautiously. "Could I have a moment?"

"Always." Pel tucks away her writing and folds her hands in her lap. "Something the matter?"

She doesn't bother to dodge around the subject. She crosses her arms, staring levelly at Pel. "That man. He said he wanted to marry you. Are you? Do you want to?"

A bit of side-eyeing here.

"You know that's the end goal of all courtship, don't you? That's what he means, not...not he's made up his mind I'm the one."

Edited 2016-01-31 23:44 (UTC)

"But you can't marry him." She says it bluntly, frowning. "So what's the point? You know the Keeper would never allow it--The clan would never allow it. By the Dread Wolf, Pel, he's a Templar. If you want to--to dally," She waves her hand around, making a face. "I can hardly say anything, everyone else in the clan has done plenty enough of that. But talking about courting and bonding--no, marriage--is a little extreme."

Pel stares at Beleth, realizing she's never told her that she's not going back. And this is not the ideal time to do it. Silence hangs between them as Pel tries to think of what to say, or how to say it, and somehow what comes out is a lot less mature than anything she was thinking.

"Cyril doesn't have a problem with it."

Beleth just frowns at that, shaking her head. She resists saying anything particularly snide--It wouldn't help the situation. "Does Cyril know that you're talking about officially courting and all? If he thinks that you're just--just dallying, he hardly has room to pass judgement." Not when he's been working his way through every attractive male in the Inquisition.

"Cyril's been our chaperon. He knows everything."

"Then that's between Cyril and himself. And you, I guess." She frowned, crossing her arms. "Pel, you leave the Mage's Council, you start dating a Templar--is there something wrong? Are you alright? If you want to talk about any problems, you can talk to me." She paused, thinking on that, then sighed, rubbing her forehead.

"I know it sounds like I'm being harsh, Pel, but I'm just--I'm worried about you. I don't want you to get hurt. I'd rather seem like a nag then sit by and wish I'd done something."

"Then this is about you, not me." Pel looks keenly at Beleth. "I'm not going back to the clan. Keeper Deheune set me free. I'm going to be a scholar and uncover elven history. I left the Council for a lot of reasons. I like James. I have everything under control except over-zealous well-intentioned almost-family."

Pel steps back, tilting her head. Anything Beleth has to say about that?

For what felt like a very long time, Beleth doesn't--or can't--speak. She stares at Pel with wide eyes, expression set in horror. Pel was leaving. Pel was leaving the clan, leaving her. For what, some--some idiot shemlen whose knowledge of the Dalish couldn't fill a thimble? Slowly, anger creeps into that expression, and Beleth balls her hands into fists. When she speaks, she struggles to keep her composure, voice cracking despite the attempt.

"And I will never be under your control. Fenedhis lasa! You can't just decide not to tell me that you're leaving the clan, or the council, or whatever else is going on! You can't leave me out of your life and then call me almost-family."

With that, she spins around, making to leave the gardens.

Pel raises her voice so it will carry across the distance between them. "Then what makes you think you can tell me what to do? Scold me like a child? Tell me Mamae would never allow it? It seems we're only almost-family when it allows you to be angry with me. Storm off like a grown-up and pretend being angry makes you right. Go on."

She turns back to Pel, looking just as disgruntled as before. "I can't tell you what to do, but I can tell you what sure looks like a bad idea. And that's nonsense, Pel, and you know it. I've been trying to help you since you joined the council, I spied on that Templar meeting so I could tell you about it! And every time I try to give you anything, you just brush it off--" She pauses for a moment, then runs a hand through her hair, resting it on the top of her head.

"Which is what's happening right now. Creators, it's a pattern, and I can't learn. I try to tell you something and you just shrug it off." She sighs, bringing her hand back down. "You know what, Pel? Fine. Just--just do whatever you want. I'll go write Sorrel and let him know his promotion is permanent. Even if the Keeper knows, Creators know she probably hasn't bothered to tell him." She turns away, although this time it seems more dismissive than angry. "Can't let it get to his head..."

She only pauses to glance over her shoulder. "Norrington's alright, for a Templar. You could do worse."

There's a bit of a pause. Then:

"What are you talking about?" in utter bafflement. "I haven't brushed you off. I've listened to everything you've had to say. What do you want from me? I'm sorry I forgot to tell you I'm not going back to the clan. But you've never once said what you want from me, so punishing me for not doing it is..."

Petty. She hisses out a sigh instead of saying it.

"And walking away isn't going to help."

"You listen, but you don't listen. You always just shrug it off. It's not important, this isn't a war, Beleth, you don't need to worry. Nothing I tell you is important." She presses her lips in a firm, thin line as she turns around again, because Pel is right, as usual, walking away won't help. "I don't--I don't want anything from you, but for you to--" To what? The answer isn't as easy as it feels, when she's let herself get angry enough to shout whatever comes to mind.

"To heed what I have to say. Maybe the Templars are more of a threat than you think. Maybe Norrington isn't the best choice for you. He doesn't understand anything about the Dalish, Pel. I asked him what he knew, and the reply was some shady nonsense. You don't need to agree with me, you just need to...think about it."

"I already think about it." Pel sounds testy, somewhat offended. "I've never once said the Templars aren't a threat. I've never once said James is the best choice for me. Where is this coming from, Beleth?"

"You said that you're courting, Pel. That marriage could be a possibility. Why would you think that unless you also thought that he was the best choice for you? I know you wouldn't go into that haphazardly." Not after Gavin, but Beleth feels like mentioning his name would not be very good for the conversation. "This is about--Didn't you hear me? It's about you not listening, you not telling me anything! It's about how you're always the best at everything, you're the best mage, the best First, the best--The best daughter, too, probably! And--I know I'm not the best at anything, I'm not even that great at anything, but I'm good at some things, and I wish you would listen when I talk about the few things I am good at!"

"I haven't gone into any choice about James, I'm simply allowing him to make his case."

It's the only thing out of all of that that she can directly respond to immediately. Everything else is just...weird. And familiar. A conversation about Pel's life that's essentially a well what about me? Can't have her own life because other people owned it the moment her magic manifested. It's exactly what she's been trying to get away from. But...no. That ownership is what Beleth's mother emphasized, not Beleth. And Beleth thinks she is the best daughter--to whom? Pel doesn't have a...

Oh, Mythal, forgive your failing servant. Beleth thinks Pel usurped her. Beleth thinks Pel doesn't listen because...why? Because nobody listens? Or because the person Pel was brought up to succeed didn't listen?

Then Pel will be the one who listens. Wherever the deficit lies, Pel will fill it.

She swallows and sits again, looking stunned and close to tears. She pats a spot beside her.

"All right. I'll listen."

Beleth can only respond with startled silence at first, surprised by the way that Pel just--just agrees. Pel looks shocked, like--she'd actually listened? Beleth wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, really, but she supposed it wasn't this. More arguing, maybe? Telling her that she was selfish, spoiled? Anything but agreeing.

It's unexpected enough that the anger that had been bottled up and overflowing into a tirade fizzled out. Beleth looks unsure of what to make of this change, but she sits down besides Pel, suddenly feeling like a child who'd been throwing a tantrum and now that she got what she want, she...wasn't sure what to do? No, that's not true, she had wanted to talk, and now she had Pel's ear. But any arguments Beleth had been trying to make seemed--unimportant.

"...You've been there for as long as I can remember, Pel. I wasn't even two when you came to our clan. If you don't want to return...I'll support that. But I'll miss you. The clan will be different without you." She paused, and looked over the garden, trying to sort out her thoughts. "...If you want to bond with Norrington, he's okay, I guess. You could do worse." She has done worse. Sorry, Gavin. "I mean, you could also do better. I bet we could get you a prince, if we tried." She glanced to Pel with a small smile on her lips.

Pel's eyes mist as Beleth speaks, as she thinks of giving up these people, even though she knows she has a responsibility to help them differently. She gives a faint laugh, a sort of huff through a smile, when Beleth mentions a prince.

"No princes." She delicately wipes one eye. "I'll miss you all. More than I can say. But this...this is what I have to do. I'm not leaving the Dalish. It's more that I'm...adopting all clans. For the betterment of the People. We need our history back. History and culture make us seem like people to the shems. It's why they keep destroying ours, and why we must always rebuild."

OPEN

The Garden

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