Player Plot: I will call you home

[arlathvhen]

WHO: Beleth, Cyril, Merrick, and Ellana Ashara, Thranduil, Sina Dahlasanor, Metaari, Sam Gareth, Kallian Endris, Alistair and Ruby i think??? whoever wants to go
WHAT: Keeping Up With The Asharas, the reality tv show
WHEN: Backdatedish, around mid-kingsway
WHERE: The Heartlands of Orlais
NOTES: OOC post

Tel'enfenim, da'len Irassal ma ghilas Ma garas mir renan Ara ma'athlan vhenas Ara ma'athlan vhenas	Never fear, little one, Wherever you shall go. Follow my voice-- I will call you home. I will call you home.

Clan Ashara currently resides in a small valley nestled into the mountains, that seems idyllic for a Dalish clan. A stream runs through the valley, descending into a waterfall with the steep cliffs on one side, and sheer mountain walls going straight up on two other sides. The only way in and out is through a gap big enough to lead several aravels through. It's a defensible position, safe from any threats. Except the fade rift that has opened up just a little ways from the gap. The hunters can handle the demons spewing from it well enough, and there are always a couple stationed there to pick off whatever appears. But it's too dangerous to lead the aravels and noncombatants through, and thus, they are forced to wait. To compound the issue, there's a village close to where they're currently staying, and while both sides have kept to themselves, neither are pleased with the current situation. They've helped get a message to the Inquisition in hopes that someone will come take care of the problem, and now both are tensely waiting for something to happen to change the situation, for better or worse. And so the members of Clan Ashara, with their friends in tow, return back to their clan.

Comments

[rowancrowned]

This is her home, her clan, and he is merely petitioning for her time, one supplicant among many. He seeks to put her at ease-- follows willingly when she leads to the side, keeps his hands clasped at the small of his back.

"You are Beleth's mother." Partially to remind himself, and now that he looks, he can see it- there are where the copper tones in her hair can be found, and the nose. "She is a credit to the clan, and to you as well."

If he wanted to deliver false courtesies, he would praise their food or their wagons, but this is sincere fondness, a softness in his gaze that doesn't lift as he looks somewhere over her shoulder at the clan behind her. The loss of focus lasts but a moment, and then she's once again the center of his attention, inclining his head in apology. "Forgive me my woolgathering. This camp is a wonder."

[arlathvhen]

"I am, for all that she fusses over the fact." Deheune, for one, hasn't missed Beleth's tendency to refer to her as 'the Keeper' over any maternal names. "But I suppose such is the fate of parents with grown children," She turns to look in Beleth's direction for a few moments, a wry smile on her face. "They are eager to be grown, even as their parents are eager for them to stay children." The fact that Beleth is in her mid-20s, not a rebellious teenager, goes completely unremarked upon.

When he compliments her camp, her clan, Deheune gives a genuine smile, and somehow manages to straighten up more. She looks out to them, with a fond pride in her eyes. "I thank you for your kind words, falon. The Elvhen of the past sacrificed a great deal so that we could have this, and I have tried to continue in their footsteps, and teach those that will follow me to do so, as well. And whenever I worry, I just have to look around." Her eyes fall on a group of children playing some game of pretend.

"And I remember what we have accomplished, and what we stand to lose."

[rowancrowned]

"She will settle," he says, with all the confidence of a father who feels the same way about his own child. And hopefully sooner than Legolas had, his leaf who he could still occasionally expect childish antics from.

He follows her gaze to the elflings. If he and Galadriel have their way, they will be the last generation to be born mortal. In an ideal world, those alive now will not know death, but there lies much in their path, and he can make no promises. He won't speak of it until there's a plan, a solid one, but he can imply, can hint, and can outright say: "My cousin and I offer our aid in whatever way the Clans call for it."

His eyes grow wide for a second, he look away from the young ones, and to her. "Forgive me my manners. I have a small gift from the Lady Galadriel and myself, but I fear I left it with my mount. If you would accompany me, I would be glad of the company."

[arlathvhen]

"I can only hope you are right." She responds, with a polite nod. And hopefully it won't take a century or more, because neither of them are working with that kind of timeline. Not yet, at least.

But Thranduil's next words manage to startle the Keeper, and she turns to face him, eyes wide. She recovers herself quickly enough however, and ducks her head. "Your kindness honors me, though I fear I have little to be able to repay it. Still, I would be glad to accompany you." She is still clearly confused as to what the strange elf would have to offer to her, or why he would offer it, but she can roll with worse oddities than gifts.

[rowancrowned]

"We need no repayment." Both of them are committed to this- he and Galadriel are a team, though she did the work of baking the bread which he now pulls from his bags. It's a sack, and he undoes the clasp to show her the inside- dozens of leaf-wrapped packages, each no larger than the span of his palm.

"Winter will be here soon, but a bite of these should be enough for a meal. They are weaker than they ought to be, but that is the fault of Thedas itself and not that of my cousin." He secures the bag, and offers it and all it contains to the keeper. "A gift, freely offered."