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

[writteninblood]

Well, if he wasn't wide-eyed before, he certainly is now, transfixed by the sudden gaze. A king, Ellana had called him. Sorrel doesn't doubt it.

Though perhaps no small part of that is touch-- people don't touch him, anymore, not like they did when the clan had more his own age. Not like it was when Beleth was here; he blinks.

"I wish I could. But the Keeper would never allow it, so duty keeps me here," Surprise, or perhaps the surprising intimacy, makes him more honest than he should be. He takes a deep breath, running one hand back through his hair, "Wait, what has she been telling-- what did you say."

He has no sister. He has only this walking, talking corpse that doesn't yet know how completely dead she is.

[arlathvhen]

The walking, talking corpse seems quite pleased with herself, if that smug grin is any indication. Now that she's presented Sorrel like a cat might proudly show off a dead mouse, she flits to Sorrel's side, hand still on the arm that Thranduil hasn't taken.

"I want him too, but he's right. The Keeper, ah--she would be more difficult to convince than Sorrel. But I haven't lost hope yet." She glances at Sorrel, with a smile that is sadder than she had truly intended. "Maybe now that she's seen the Inquisition? There's always a chance." She pauses, then quickly moves the subject along.

"I haven't said anything bad, your guilty conscience is showing." She gives him a jab in the side, before turning to Thranduil primly. "He always accuses me of terrible things, you know. Even though I am nothing but loving and kind to him." She pauses, then clears her throat, suddenly recalling that she's actually an adult. "...Anyway. What do you think of the Ashara clan so far, ser?"

[rowancrowned]

"It is a pleasure to be among elves once more." Elves and only- mostly- elves, elven mothers and children and tanners and cooks and mages, he's happy as can be for the normalcy of it all. He withdraws his hand, inclines his head in Beleth's direction. "Only that you are very precious to her, and nothing at all about the sort of mischief you found yourselves in as elflings."

Naturally, he assumes there must have been more than the usual dose- siblings being bad enough, but twins- even worse.

Thranduil looks Sorrel over with warm approval. "You are a mage." He doesn't need to haul about a staff to prove it. "You are the First to your keeper?"

All conjecture, based on what Beleth's said about the keeper's unwillingness to let him go, what Cyril said- and he seems like a fine enough young male. And Beleth's brother, let's only add more fuel to the approval fire. He'll need to grow into the authority, but he'll do it well.

[writteninblood]

Sorrel's complexion is such that it takes a significant blush to show-- except, his ears are getting quite pink, now. Nothing at all, translates without pause to every bloody thing in his head. And of course Beleth would chat into the ear of a frighteningly beautiful elvhen King, stories about the the thousand little mischiefs they'd thrown at one another over the years.

For a moment, he wants to say something, truly he does, but the time to turn to his sister in outrage rises and rolls past him in a moving wave, unconcerned with Sorrel's desires. Thranduil moves the conversation forward, but the blush remains.

"I am, sir, both those things," Sorrel wants, suddenly to somehow explain himself; he wants to be impressive, in some impossible way, to this man, "I'm a healer, mostly, and I am learning the Keeper's arts."

[arlathvhen]

"It is pretty nice to be able to talk about shemlen being terrible without worrying that an errant one will murder you." Beleth replies agreeably, which is, obviously, the first positive that should come to mind when being around her clan again. As an afterthought, she adds "Or get called rabbit." She turns to Sorrel, her lips twisting. "Did you even know that's a thing they do? Call us rabbits."

Luckily for Sorrel, who is terrible at saying good things about himself, he has Beleth there, who happens to be Sorrel's greatest fangirl. She wraps her arm around his shoulder, and gives him a grin, before turning to Thranduil.

"He was our Second, and cared for the Halla--they're our sacred companions, it's a very important job. And now he's set to become the Keeper to our clan, keeping the lore and knowledge of our clan. And he's doing an incredible job, so far. I know our clan will only prosper when he leads it."

[rowancrowned]

"Please," he says, giving Sorrel's shoulder a light squeeze. "Do call me Thranduil. I would have you speak with me as your sister does." Which is pretty much as often as she wants. He turns to look at her as he speaks about her, seeing how comfortable they are together.

"A healer! A rare and blessed talent. Am I to understand he cared for the whole herd? Your halla-" he means the ones living in Skyhold. "- are beautiful creatures. It is a shame I cannot visit with them as often as I would like. Might I beg the indulgence- of both you, Beleth, and Sorrel- of meeting Clan Ashara's?"

He politely ignores the discussion of rabbits and shemlen, not wishing to make-- he would call it more trouble for himself. Far better to spend the time being delighted with Beleth and her twin.

[writteninblood]

For a moment, he's glancing at Beleth in rank incredulity. How can she-- no, she's doing it on purpose, riling him up about things he can do nothing about, to calm him down for the things he can. Companionably, he loops an arm in hers, grateful for the support. Rabbits, indeed. Just when he's thought he's seen the bottom of his disdain for humans, someone digs a hole. Or, apparently, a warren.

"Traditionally, the Second's responsibility is the Halla, yes. Sulahni is... much more enthusiastic than anyone else. But, I don't think she'd mind."

This is a lie. Sulahni might technically be subordinate to the First, but Sulahni has outlived the careers of two Keeper's Seconds, and she is older than Sorrel himself. It takes a very poor leader indeed to react to someone else's seniority and experience with an assertion of dominance, and Sorrel has no illusions. Sulahni lives for the Halla as if she were their own private guardian goddess, and any encroachment on her territory will be rightly seen as a trespass.

"....Thranduil it is, then," He says, to cover up the fresh rush at the strange intimacy of it.

And anyways he's unlikely to hear trouble over the Halla, and he certainly has the Keeper's blessing to show the outsiders around, within reason. Besides, Thranduil is an elf! And a King! And possibly even elvhen... so why not?

"Of course you can meet ours. They might not be as fat as Skyhold's Halla, to hear Bel tell about them, but they're the pride of the clan," He's already leading them towards the little herd of Halla, not far off. No fences keep them close to the aravels, only a few timbers propped up to define the safe range for those not familiar with them. They mostly ignore Sorrel's approach, though a few lift their heads and look, before going back to grazing, "It sounds almost like the Inquisition sees their Halla there as more of an imposition than anything else. I can't understand it."