CLOSED: a prayer that will be answered

[byblow]

WHO: Adelaide, Alistair, Anders, Hercules, Kaisa, Lena, Sabine, Teren, Velanna
WHAT: Some safety precautions
WHEN: Solace 1-7
WHERE: The Deep Roads beneath the Western Approach
NOTES: OOC post.

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[fleurdesel]

"Give me your word." Which will matter little, but she holds her hand out all the same. "Swear you will call her."

She might be expecting this- but being prepared is different from the cold certainty of death. There is no preparing for it, not truly. Even as a healer when one knows not every patient will survive, when there will be death that is lingering and painful- it is not an easy thing to accept.

She'll not let him walk into this so easily. Even if it is not, in fact, that easy.

[twelvelabours]

"You don't know what you're asking me." His voice is low, words scraping out his throat. It isn't a protest. It's not a denial, either, a dismissal. It's a statement of what he is. He can do things. He can be brave and make sure duty is carried out.

Words? They're a different thing entirely. Words are complicated. They twist around and mean different things to different people. Words aren't straightforward. They paint pictures and craft poems, and Hercules isn't an artistic man.

"I swear it, by the Grey Wardens and the Maker, I will call her." He just has no idea what he'll say.

[fleurdesel]

"To be honest with her. She does not have near as much of that in her life as she truly should." No one mired in The Game, no one as savvy in politics as Benevenuta is can keep many of those that are honest close. It is a sad fact but in this? This...whatever it was they had. This affair. This affection, for there can be nothing but anguish and having to part from someone dear that leaves Herc so conflicted.

It is not fair to demand this. To put him in a place to speak in ways he is unable to handle with grace. But for Benevenuta- no matter what is in the letter? To hear some shade of it spoken would be kindest.

Or perhaps it will only dig the knife in deep.

"Cut to the heart as you would with a knife. Be...Be Fereldan about it." Straightforward to the point of pain. With his word given- she takes the letter with one hand, the other reaching forward to clasp his wrist.

[twelvelabours]

Thank the Maker. There was some part of him that almost dreaded she wouldn't. He's heard Alistair complain enough, largely because he's not sure there's anything he's not heard Alistair complain about, all told. When she accepts the letter, his exhales, relieved, though it's hardly the kind of relief that's liberating.

"I will." Somehow, he will. With his right hand he clasps her wrist as well.

"It was an honour to walk the Deep Roads with you, Councillor LeBlanc. Thank you for helping us." And a short laugh. "Thanks for not strangling Alistair."

[fleurdesel]

There is so little she can do, here. No spell will last as long as he needs- but she can make certain he is as fresh as a man in his prime. That much she can offer. The letter she tucks into her belt pouch, potions rattling. After a moment's hesitation she strips them from her belt and offer them to him. If he is to do this thing and take as many as possible with him? He will need to last long enough to matter.

"Senior Warden Hansen- Puissiez-vous marcher dans la lumière du Créateur." Somehow she manages a jagged twist of a smile. "I make no promises for the ride back to skyhold. And...if you would permit me?"

There is a blue tint to her eyes that flares, a cool wash of light on her palms. "One last time."

[twelvelabours]

The potions feel heavier than they ought. It seems strange, wrong almost, to take potions from the living when you're a man walking to your death. Herc holds them, swallows thickly, and stows them in the empty spaces on his belt, checking them carefully to ensure not a one is wasted.

He doesn't quite have another laugh in him, but he does smile, even if his eyes are stinging more than is probably strictly dignified.

"One last time," he agrees. "Thank you." For more than the healing. For all this and for taking a letter that no one should ever have to have the misfortune of delivering.

[fleurdesel]

With permission granted she rests her hand on top of his, the full of her focus and Compassion's power flowing through him. Any bruise, any ache, any blister or sore or scab is washed away. He walks into shadow and death- but he will do so as whole and clean as she could possibly make him. If it were possible to burn a heroic aura into his bones, she would. While she cannot offer him that, she can impress upon him something smaller, subtler. A foolish charm for luck that she'd learned in her youth.

It might do nothing, it might spare him a boulder on his head- Maker only knows. But she marks the sigil in his palm with the tip of a glowing finger and watches it sink in. May his sword arm last till his heart stops. May his shield not break. "Make it count, Hercules."

[twelvelabours]

Strange thing, healing magic. Always reminded him of mint leaves and his mother's garden, how chewing on them could make your mouth feel cool and if you drank water after you'd get a refreshing, cooling shiver from it. Healing magic was something else. Made you feel cool when you hadn't realised you were starting to overheat, something like that. He inhales, and for a moment, the breath comes easier - the tension of what's waiting eases.

When he opens his eyes, he looks to her with a nod. "I will." And a pause, before he pulls back. "You, too. You're doing good work, Adelaide."

This is getting into-- it's getting more difficult, now, so he takes a step backwards. "Make it count."

[fleurdesel]

"I will." It is not a promise she can truly hope to keep- but she cannot say 'I promise to try'. Not when she'd demanded something of him. Not when he'd given his word so neatly. She lets her hands hang loose at her sides, Compassion drifting further away on the other side of the veil. No glow, no magic just...Adelaide.

"You have my word." For what it is worth. One more stone on the burden of expectations- but one she will carry as best she can. She steps away, then, to give others their opportunity at a goodbye or- demands of their own.