V. CLOSED.

[glandival]

WHO: Sabine and Morrigan
WHAT: On magical mirrors.
WHEN: Late Justinian.
WHERE: The location of the Eluvian.
NOTES: There is probably going to be some swearing. Hide your virgin eyes.

[ The last time Sabine came here, she was beskirted in colours and cloth of a simple life, flour-dusted, ready with an excuse for somewhat dim-witted curiousity as to the intriguing Witch of the Wilds and her elven affiliations, as any elf has a right to be. Dim-witted or not.

Proportionately, the presence of leathers and complicated buckles may convey a more complicated life in turn, as Sabine hasn't bothered to change, or to rest, since her latest return to Skyhold.

Instead, she is here, with her unfinished business.

She is seated on a low stone garden bench, legs crossed, directly opposite the door guarding where she knows the Eluvian resides. It's a big door. A big heavy door that's probably hard to pick open, even if it didn't have magic spells wreathed into the wood as Sabine imagines there to be. She is less scoping out how to get in and more awaiting Morrigan's arrival and notice, but the former makes for a thought exercise anyway.

She reaches up at the overhang of a tree, twisting away a leafy twig to twist and knot to keep her hands busy as well. ]

Comments

[arcaneadvisor]

[A pity. They are marvels the likes of which shall never be recreated again, and once lost? Morrigan doesn't wish to think of it, a shadow of grief crossing her face for a moment, knowing what she felt each day she spent in them, when she took Leliana through. What might happen to them now with the Veil in the state it's in, she can only hazard terrible guesses.]

After Halamshiral I am certain there was even more reason to be swift. [Denerim's alienage had once been as bad as she thought she might see. If she should ever see Halamshiral, she knows she'll see worse.] Yet to use the paths, precision is necessary; as you say, you are no scholar of magic. Magic in some form or other is required for the paths, and the paths cannot be traversed without care.

[Not with darkened doors or the risk of things watching you from the shadows.]

[glandival]

Are you warning me off them, witch?

[ She says witch like she calls Martel shem, which is to say, inherent offense may be found in her blunt speech but not necessarily in her tone, for all that it's not friendly all the time either. Mostly, Sabine sounds curious, a little suspicious, trying to grasp Morrigan's words and find their sharper intent hidden there. Most humans speak in threats, is one of those life lessons you take with you. But the witch has a way of speaking that feels slippery. Sabine does not, often enough.

As much as she may try. ]

You recover what is lost, as you say. For who, then? Your Empress? The elven? [ She smiles, a little, and gestures. ] The Inquisition?

[arcaneadvisor]

[One eyebrow raises, she takes a small breath. Prickly? She will remember that.] Hardly. Though caution is required, the ancient elves sealed many to prevent attacks, yet those that are unlocked: can you know for certain what lies behind them? I have been to their ruins and they are trapped, why should the eluvians be any different.

[There is also the tale of Clan Sabrae, the Blight sickness that slipped out to afflict two of their young hunters. Not her tale to tell unless she is pushed but one that kept her cautious when she worked, when she made her first moves.]

Celene is more your Empress than she is mine, of the two of us, I do not hail from Orlais. I was simply her advisor on the arcane. [Her position is convenient while it lasts, as well as suitably vague. She owes this woman nothing, but more than that she has Kieran. Kieran and his destiny that she must prepare him for it, the eluvians and what lies beyond undoubtedly a part of it, the knowledge that she will need to help prepare him. As she has from the start, she will keep him safe.] My knowledge is the Inquisition's knowledge. I have made it no secret that I came to offer aid.

[glandival]

[ It's a hard look that Morrigan gets from the elf perched beside her. One that seems to be deciding how much you can believe a witch, or not even that, but a shem, one that's frocked it up in the courts of the Orlesian Empire, taken tea with a monster like the Empress, one claiming now that her loyalty is merely circumstantial.

One in possession of an Eluvian. ]

We don't choose our Empresses, [ she concedes, raising an eyebrow. ] Except you, maybe.

[ She looks back towards the sealed door. ]

You believe in this all? In the Inquisition?

[arcaneadvisor]

[Morrigan might have donned a gown (too dark) and gone to the parties (unmasked) and been presented to the court (and made an open scornful mockery of the whole thing without ever having to play the Game) but she never got in bed with Celene.

She shrugs only lightly to that first comment, as if to say 'as you wish'.]

I would not be here if I believed otherwise. You may take that as you will. I am many things but I would not bring my son here if I did not think this was where victory stood.

[And her voice is very firm there. So much of this is about Kieran, more than Sabine will ever get out of Morrigan, but when she knew full well that there were dangers present here that were so much sharper than Orlais could ever hope to be? Aye, she believes, and it rankles that she must be questioned.]

I have offered my aid, freely. I have offered others the chance to work with me, freely. Believe what you will, that will not change why I have come nor what I have done.