Christine places a hand on Korrin's side and sets a rejuvenation spell on her, hoping to ease her aches. She does this without Faith's help, not wanting any nearby soldiers to start screaming that she's possessed based on the glow in her eyes.
The general clears his throat, not sure if he should be insulted at Korrin's manner. Look, he's a busy man and he can't be bothered to worry over the Inquisition when they volunteered to take on the Red Templars, right?
"I am all right, Sam." Christine still feels twinges of pain from the electrocution, but she can endure those easily enough. Right now she wants to make sure she sees to everyone who has been hurt. In addition to that, she needs to question the general about her father. From Korrin's side, she looks up at the masked man.
"Have you any news for me concerning Luc Delacroix?"
"Ah, yes. I-- just a moment." He turns away and Christine gives a look to the back of his helmet that could melt it. But he gestures to another man, and that person comes over. He is also wearing one of those ridiculous helmets with the mask in front, though his is less decorated. Christine stands, her heart seeming to slam against her ribcage. Is this her father? The soldier moves to remove the helmet, revealing a man in his mid-forties with graying dark hair. But there is nothing about him that Christine recognizes.
"You are kin to Delacroix?"
Christine clears her throat, straightening her spine. "I am. I am his daughter."
The soldier inclines his head. "I am the captain of his regiment. I am... sorry to inform you that your father fell in battle against the Grand Duke's forces nearly two months ago." He does look sorry for it, brow furrowed in concern. He keeps speaking, but Christine can't really hear what he's saying. Her heartbeat is pounding loudly in her ears and the world seems to be shrinking. She's too late. She's missed her chance to ever see him again.
"...if not for the ban on all messages leaving the front save military messages," -- here the captain wisely does not look towards the general, but his annoyance is clear -- "I would have informed the people of Velun of the men lost in that fight. And would have sent personal effects home."
She manages to hear enough to form a response, trying her best to stay composed. She hasn't seen her father in fifteen years and yet this hurts as much as if she had just seen him yesterday. Why is that?
"And did he have any personal effects?"
The captain sets his helmet aside and reaches into the pouch on his belt. "Yes, one thing that was not issued to him. When I heard he was being asked after, I collected it for you." Out comes a simple leather pouch with Delacroix scrawled on it in charcoal to identify it. The man tips it over his hand, where a small object lands in his palm and glints gold in the sunlight. Christine feels as though her arm weighs a hundred pounds as she lifts it to take the object, holding it up to examine it more closely. It's a ring with two different shades of blonde hair woven together as a keepsake. She stares down at the ring a long moment before slowly reaching a hand up to touch her own hair. Is this her mother's hair and... hers? The weight of this realization hits her all at once and she throws a hand over her mouth to suppress her sudden sobs.
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The general clears his throat, not sure if he should be insulted at Korrin's manner. Look, he's a busy man and he can't be bothered to worry over the Inquisition when they volunteered to take on the Red Templars, right?
"I am all right, Sam." Christine still feels twinges of pain from the electrocution, but she can endure those easily enough. Right now she wants to make sure she sees to everyone who has been hurt. In addition to that, she needs to question the general about her father. From Korrin's side, she looks up at the masked man.
"Have you any news for me concerning Luc Delacroix?"
"Ah, yes. I-- just a moment." He turns away and Christine gives a look to the back of his helmet that could melt it. But he gestures to another man, and that person comes over. He is also wearing one of those ridiculous helmets with the mask in front, though his is less decorated. Christine stands, her heart seeming to slam against her ribcage. Is this her father? The soldier moves to remove the helmet, revealing a man in his mid-forties with graying dark hair. But there is nothing about him that Christine recognizes.
"You are kin to Delacroix?"
Christine clears her throat, straightening her spine. "I am. I am his daughter."
The soldier inclines his head. "I am the captain of his regiment. I am... sorry to inform you that your father fell in battle against the Grand Duke's forces nearly two months ago." He does look sorry for it, brow furrowed in concern. He keeps speaking, but Christine can't really hear what he's saying. Her heartbeat is pounding loudly in her ears and the world seems to be shrinking. She's too late. She's missed her chance to ever see him again.
"...if not for the ban on all messages leaving the front save military messages," -- here the captain wisely does not look towards the general, but his annoyance is clear -- "I would have informed the people of Velun of the men lost in that fight. And would have sent personal effects home."
She manages to hear enough to form a response, trying her best to stay composed. She hasn't seen her father in fifteen years and yet this hurts as much as if she had just seen him yesterday. Why is that?
"And did he have any personal effects?"
The captain sets his helmet aside and reaches into the pouch on his belt. "Yes, one thing that was not issued to him. When I heard he was being asked after, I collected it for you." Out comes a simple leather pouch with Delacroix scrawled on it in charcoal to identify it. The man tips it over his hand, where a small object lands in his palm and glints gold in the sunlight. Christine feels as though her arm weighs a hundred pounds as she lifts it to take the object, holding it up to examine it more closely. It's a ring with two different shades of blonde hair woven together as a keepsake. She stares down at the ring a long moment before slowly reaching a hand up to touch her own hair. Is this her mother's hair and... hers? The weight of this realization hits her all at once and she throws a hand over her mouth to suppress her sudden sobs.