faderift | she rules her life like a fine skylark

"I saw it right away," Kieran replies, solemn all of a sudden, and Morrigan is very aware of the weight of his gaze. Her hand settles on his shoulder, she smiles at him but fixes Inessa with a look when he turns back to her. "The blood. It's very old. It isn't all yours."

(Elven or Warden, she will now know until later which one he means. It isn't something she can ask him.)

"You have read about Garahel, Kieran, the Warden who ended the Fourth Blight." Morrigan's voice is firm enough to draw any attention to her, away from him even with her hand placed so protectively upon his shoulder as she stares, as if daring the Warden to make a comment. "This is Doghren. Named, after a fashion, for one who did become a Warden in time, though he was a companion of ours during the Blight. She belongs to Alistair and Zevran but Kieran has become very fond of her. Have you settled in at the camp?"

That sudden shift in demeanor combined with the odd announcement surprises and confuses Inessa. Did he...no, he couldn't know about the archdemon blood she'd taken. That's something only Wardens would know about, and they don't share such secrets. What else he could mean, she has no idea.

Morrigan speaking up certainly draws Inessa's attention, the young Warden unable to ignore the presence even if she wanted to do so. Which she doesn't. They may not know each other very well, but Inessa will always remember her presence in the tower and how she helped save lives. So she merely nods at the reference to Garahel's name. "I've heard there were plenty of mabari named Cousland, so he needed something a little different." Her lips twitch at that other name, though. "Doghren? That...admittedly does sound like a name he would choose.

And I've settled as well as can be expected, when I'm constantly called elsewhere. I expect I'll be sent to Halamshiral again, before long. There is no shortage of work to be done."

This is why Morrigan takes such great pains to keep Kieran from the Wardens personally, barring Alistair for obvious reasons. Her heart hammers but what can the woman say? That Morrigan's son said something odd to her? At worst it will be dismissed as him being Morrigan's son, and she can always say something to Alistair, and he can...he can come up with some nonsense lie Morrigan doesn't need to hear. Something terrible that she will want no knowledge of. He is my son, how many times has she said it, and thought it, and kept her voice and heart from cracking with it?

"I can only imagine what mabari were named after him." Likely the ferocious hounds that slaughtered everything asked of them but still managed to piss all over the floor. "I imagine you have not met Oghren? Though if you came from Weisshaupt, the alcohol on his breath would catch flame in the heat there. They are alike in cleanliness, and beauty. Doghren still has some chance to blossom."

Doghren looks more fetching in a vest.

"Have you been to Halamshiral before? Not that such a thing would matter now, after it was put to the torch. Tis very much changed, as is all Orlais, even if the fighting proper is out in the Exalted Plains."

Inessa shakes her head at mention of Oghren, whose namesake Garahel is happy to pester. Her lips twitch at the description, fairly certain they would not have meshed as companions. She prefers the more sober sort, and with some semblance of hygiene. "Given Doghren's breeding, I suspect she will do just that in time."

Her eyes darken a touch at mention of Halamshiral and she shakes her head. "Not without the Inquisition's backing, no. I wish I had taken the time, seen the city myself before so much of it was turned to ash. People remain, but the air is always tense. They seem to expect the rest of the city to go at any time." Maybe that's why they don't wish to rebuild, aside from making it easier for the elite to pretend it didn't happen; what would be the point?

Edited 2016-09-11 01:26 (UTC)

It wouldn't have stopped Oghren from trying his luck. He'd even been drunk enough to make a pass at Jonas before collapsing in a heap. Poor Leliana, her tent so close to his whereas Morrigan had always had the good sense to be further away from the rest of them the entire time. "What breeding," Morrigan mutters since…

Well look at her. What are you Doghren?

"The only alienage in all Thedas where the humans are those walled away." That's the High Quarter after all, all of it like so much of Thedas built over old bones but it must sting much more for some, though she would wager that the Dalish are more likely to make the louder song and dance over it. Whilst doing nothing. "The battles have moved elsewhere. Where the battles are always waged, and where the Veil is already thin. Halamshiral was….a sacrifice. Such things will always start with those who will not be missed."

"I did not see that portion of Halamshiral. It's not something I regret." Inessa took the Inquisition's advice to heart and, not wanting a mask or a human handler, declined the honor of meeting elite which would deem her inferior anyway. She could do no good there, so turned her attention elsewhere.

"The battle may have moved, but what was done is not easily forgotten. Not by those directly affected, at least. In the minds of those who lost nothing, such effects are likely downgraded, if remembered at all." Orlesian elite -well, elite in general- had an interesting habit of recalling only what suited them or served their purposes. The deaths of those deemed expendable barely counts, eclipsed by the beginning of the civil war.

"I liked the markets," Kieran says from between the dogs. "They had little cakes. And toys. Sometimes they had dwarves who made them with moving parts." That's the most important bit because anyone can carve a toy and paint it up but getting all the fiddly little joints in so the knight moves or the lion roars? Important. So important Inessa you don't even know.

"Kieran had friends among the servant children; they knew who would be friendly enough to slip them something," Morrigan confides in an undertone. Better he had friends like that than noble children. The sort of friends Morrigan might have had, might have wished for herself if she had ever known what to wish for.

Morrigan can't argue with that, nor will she. She was not privy to Celene's decision, arcane advisor only. "They care enough when the University of Orlais writes what they do now, when Celene tried to have elves admitted." Though she doesn't know if word would have spread to the Anderfels of just how low Gaspard had stooped.

Inessa smiles when Kieran speaks up again, suddenly a little guilty as she realizes what they were talking about in front of him. It's probably not suitable conversation for a child, but she can only hope Garahel and Doghren are sufficiently distracting. "I like little cakes, too. And I remember those dwarven toys, they were quite eye-catching. Especially the dragon." Because she didn't trust Garahel not to slobber on it or knock it over, she kept her distance. Still, though.

She nods to Morrigan's undertone, smiling in agreement. One's friends often shape one's perspective; Kieran can do worse than to learn from servant children. Compared to oblivious or backstabbing nobles, especially. Even the children are like that, she's been told.

Mention of the University of Orlais has Inessa raising her eyebrow, interested and wary all at once. "Oh? I thought I heard about the possibility of elven scholars, at least, though at the time it seemed too good to be true. Which isn't to say that I didn't want to believe it." The thought of non-mage elves having access to education on par with what she was given warms her heart...or it would, if there was a chance of it taking root.

When Kieran was there? When Kieran arguably knows worse? Keeping it from him would only cause more damage when there are uglier things that she tries to protect him from instead. He knows the truth of the world better this way, knows that it is not a fair place, not a wholly safe place, and if that makes him listen to his mother when she says prick up your ears, pay attention, stay close then so much the better. "Zevran gave me a dragon, but he brought it back from Antiva."

"The dragon often plays the part of the Archdemon during reenactments of the Battle of Denerim," Morrigan explains fondly. "Alistair does not let him win should he play with him however."

Listen to that sad little sigh. Alistair never just lets him win.

With a quiet sigh, she slips a few treats from a pouch into Kieran's hand, nodding to both hounds to ensure he'll be suitably distracted as she extracts herself. Perhaps she might not have done this before, but then Alistair had come to her, and Alistair's blood is Kieran's blood as much as they both have their parts in his life clearly defined. Kieran won't know but this...this is one thing she would rather he not overhear. "Celene championed the cause, in the way Celene did most things involving the elves. A little at a time, one by one, case by case, with those who might be sympathetic. And then-- well, Halamshiral happened. And now the University of Orlais writes terrible sorts of things about elves. That they are little more than prey animals based upon their ears and their intelligence. And to lay with one...well you can imagine what they say now."

That sad little sigh is too much to bear, poor Kieran. Alistair is someone she respects highly, but he's allowed to be wrong in this instance. "That's quite rude of him, isn't it? If you wish us to play sometime, I would have no qualms about you determining the outcome."

Treats get Garahel's instant attention and compliance, and he'll wait attentively for his turn. "Let him earn it. Ask Garahel to shake." She taught him that since he was a pup, so he'll prove himself.

Turning her attention to Morrigan, she nods at mention of Halamshiral. That's nothing new, of course, but the rest of it has her stiffening in unwelcome surprise. Her eyes narrow at the thought, knowing there's nothing she can do to counter it from her position, and that makes it all the more frustrating. "...I can imagine, yes. And I can imagine what this has cost the elves in the Empire already. When those in positions of power treat them poorly, they show others that it is an acceptable course. And the elves suffer accordingly."

A little wrinkle appears between Kieran's brow because no, that's not quite right either. "That isn't how a battle goes. When someone comes to it already decided then it isn't a proper battle anymore." (This is the point where everyone very politely sidesteps the word 'Ostagar' because oh dear, what an awkward situation.)

As for the dogs, well, Doghren's trick is generall just existing without embarrassing herself and being good at coming back because she's eager to please, at least for Kieran. Morrigan has doubts about selective deafness as far as her own commands are concerned, suspecting that Alistair has a hand in it. Don't you listen to that nasty old Morrigan, or some such. Probably face to face. A lot of eyebrow action. Ear scratches. Zevran in a corner wondering how this is his life the same way Morrigan sometimes wonders that. She should have wine with Zevran more often and wonder why this is where they are. Kieran just lobs the treat because he's ten, Inessa, he wants to run with the wild dogs.

Gaspard stoops to new lows all the time yet he will always have support, probably support within the Inquisition too. It wouldn't surprise Morrigan. His military record this, his hatred of the Game that. People find an awful lot of ways to justify things. (She should know, after all.) "While the fighting continues, at least many of the chevaliers will be away along with many of the soldiers. Tis what happens after that matters when the lions have stopped tearing themselves and the Dales to pieces."

Yeah, Inessa won't be the one to discuss Ostagar. There are plenty of other qualified people for that. So she just nods, conceding. "Very well, we can do battle and await the outcome together. That seems fair." And she sighs a little, shaking her head with a slight smile as Garahel receives the treat without having to earn it. "He'll get spoiled." ...as though he isn't already, shhh.

She sobers as Morrigan speaks, nodding as that has been more or less her thought process on the matter. "The Inquisition will likely play a role in that, won't it? We're already facing one war, against Corypheus. Another on our doorstep can't be ignored. I can only hope the outcome is, if not directly favorable to those without power, at least not as disastrous as it would be without their influence."

"Your hound goes into battle," Morrigan points out, an actual true mabari with a job. Doghren you layabout. Sponging off everyone else. Go out and earn your living like the rest of the dogs in Skyhold, you're making the place look disreputable.

Nodding, Morrigan watches as Kieran finds a stick - or perhaps it was a bow, broken in frustration and abandoned at some point - that he throws for the dogs to gallop after. Hopefully no one she likes will die in the stampede of dogs. Turning her attention back to Inessa, she inclines her head in a nod. "Thus far we have only ventured to the Plains when a rift opened over them, though others might have for their own reasons. As you can imagine, twas hardly the easiest of places to escort someone from, though passing patrols of soldiers served the demons just as well as my newly arrived companion and myself."

When it comes down to taking on a whole host of demons with a terrified non-combatant? You take what you can get. Soldiers are made for the dying, fighting such a fruitless war as Celene and Gaspard's.

Having trained Garahel, Inessa is fairly confident about him not stampeding over anyone...at least if he remembers said training and doesn't get carried away with that enthusiasm. Usually the former holds, but the latter has happened enough where Inessa keeps her gaze on him just long enough to be certain of his good behavior. Kieran's giving him a good time, at least.

"And I have only seen the Exalted Plains while passing through on my way here from the Western Approach. We fought demons as best we could when encountering them, though had no one with us to close rifts at the time. If we had those thus endowed, I'd like to think we could have made a difference there." But they didn't, and Inessa was pretty certain those rifts had spewed out more demons the moment they rode onward. "Is it true, that rift openings can now be anticipated? Is that how you were present, or was it a stroke of luck for those involved?"

Kieran might actually go to bed right away tonight without begging for extra stories or without a fuss for a change if he's exhausted enough from this sort of rampaging. Perhaps even the bath might be met with nary a complaint.

"The Exalted Plains has such a long and bloody history that the Veil there is already thin," Morrigan says when she knows the history so very well for how many times has she passed through it and further afield on her journeys? "Rifts there are hardly surprising, and the more that fall in battle, the more spirits that shall push close. Yet the Inquisition cannot," or is it will not, "move until someone seats the throne more easily. There is truth to the predictions of where the rifters will arrive, Solas is said to be responsible for that though I heard it from the scouts and volunteered to go myself. I move faster than most men."

Knowing well about what happens to places where the Veil is thin, Inessa's lips form a thin, grim line as she nods. It makes her wonder about the state of her former home, but she can't bring herself to mention that. Besides, talking about rifts and their predictions are much more interesting to her...and that last comment, as well. She nods, intrigued rather than put off, for all that it isn't Circle magic.

"You mean shapeshifting. I've taken to studying rift magic for the time being, learning more about the Veil and how to use it, but I've wondered about that particular magic as well. Taking another form and seeing the world through its eyes must be quite an experience." She looks thoughtful, uncertain if it's something she wants to commit to any time soon if ever, but it never hurts to discuss possibilities.

"As the crow flies," Morrigan confirms because well. How can she not when she rather literally did just that, one of the very first to arrive to assess the scene, able to observe from a distance and watch the rift dump out that first new arrival onto the ground?

(What she would say, if asked about Kinloch Hold, is that it has withstood being surrounded by Lake Calenhad. That it endured the Fifth Blight and the horrors that came with it. That it shall stand. That it shall keep standing for some time to come. Witches were involved, or one in particular.

So they say.)

Instead she inclines her head in a way that might be mistaken for a nod by others but isn't, because Morrigan isn't like that, not with the way she holds herself. "Tis hardly a secret, not when I have taken several students by now nor when I have used it in battle. If you wish to discuss it, I will speak of it - if you will speak of rift magic." That seems good and equitable in her opinion.

Maybe someday, she'll be able to bring up her home again at length. Most likely when she can gather up the courage to visit it again, sooner or later. For now, though, she'd rather been seen as more than the tiny apprentice mage who needed rescuing, gratitude aside.

Inessa nods, readily accepting such terms. "A fair trade. I admit I am just beginning in my studies, so I'm not very far along. But I have learned enough to manage the basic spells; summoning a boulder from the Fade or using its essence to smash enemies into the ground. The nuances beyond that are what I'm working on now, to learn to use it to my benefit in a more passive manner, powering my spell repertoire.

What criteria do you hold for students? Are there specific forms you have them master--the crow, for instance?"

"I study arcane matters, I cannot say that some knowledge would not be of use." There's Solas, of course, but thus far their paths have not crossed and Morrigan is in no real hurry to change that. "I have wondered at the similarities so many of the rifters share with us, some of what you might say may shine a light somewhere."

Stranger things have happened, after all

"No. Flight is not for all, and flight is no small thing. To learn to shapeshift is not to simply copy the form of an animal. Were it that, t'would be a simpler discipline." Not simple, not to reshape yourself but a mage can better appreciate the layers that make up a person better than a rogue or a warrior can. "Tis the soul. In that way, I encourage the student to choose an animal that suits them. To study it in whatever way they see fit. Some simply observe it often, some others might read in the library too and draw it as it moves, as it rests." The ways her students thus far have chosen to learn has surprised her, and that's no bad thing, not when there is Kieran to consider one day.

she rules her life like a fine skylark

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