( closed. ) we are objects of contempt to our neighbours,

[dashing]

WHO: Herian, Pel & Sina.
WHAT: Following the death of Gwen's mother during a Dalish ambush on their party, the Inquisition sends a diplomatic party to the Clan to open dialogue. Everything is a bit terrible.
WHEN: Shortly after the events of this log, so the beginning of Harvestmere. Gently timey wimey for flexibility.
WHERE: somewhere suitably Dalishy and foresty, Orlais.
NOTES: Reference to violence, torture and murder; this diplomatic mission is going to badly, specific warnings to be updated as necessary.

Comments

ESCAPE

[dashing]

Pel fade stepped away, and not for the first time Herian wished she had any kind of affinity to ice. Fire is what guides her, lightning strikes with her temper, but ice has never been her gift. It doesn't matter, now: all that matters is to run.

Running is another thing that doesn't come naturally to her, in her head she has sworn she would never be made to run from the Dalish again, but this is not a moment to indulge her ego nor forget her duties. She runs, carrying Sina as she goes, and ignoring the lance of pain from a still partially unhealed arrow wound and the shreds of her ear and all else. She cannot imagine the sight she must be, now, and it doesn't matter. Nothing matters save to see Pel and Sina safely back to the Inquisition.

She is seen by hunters, and a couple move to follow her before the reality of demons demands their attention moreso, and Herian just keeps running, running past old ruins and hiding behind them in moments of suspicion before carrying on, until she reaches a point where Pel might stand a chance of finding them and will not leave them in danger.

[mythalenaste]

Pel fadesteps until her mana is utterly depleted, and then she runs until she can fadestep again, and again, until she is breathless, drenched in sweat, and leaning for support against Cow. She has never loved this animal so much as she does now. Quickly she unbinds him and Herian's horse, hoping the other horse has the sense to follow because Pel's little gelding can't carry everyone. Mounting one-handed, especially when that hand is shaking and slippery with sweat, is a problem.

Only briefly does she think, I am safe now. I can go find the Inquisition camp and they can send people to rescue the others. I have to protect my baby. Only briefly does that come to mind, and she angrily pushes it aside.

But the next thought is I can't do this alone. I will die. Elves always die. You know what fear does--it keeps you alive. It thwarts the Child. Embrace it. Let it empower you.

Cyril's pale, sweaty face comes to mind. Screaming at some unseen thing following her. Merrick quietly asking her why a demon is following her. How close she clutches her fear always, even to the point of giving it a name.

No.

She grits her teeth and takes Cow off at the quickest speed he can manage. Herian's horse follows just as fast. The jostling causes agony in her hand and head, but she fixes her eyes ahead and puts the pain out of her mind. Shortly, she sees Herian and slows to a stop beside her.

"Quickly!"

[eolasemah]

Though mostly unconscious, Sina stirs occasionally; with a flutter of her eyelashes and a small, pained sound, she wheezes in a deep breath and relaxes again, then repeats several long seconds later. The shard has calmed itself since they ran from the rift, but she is clearly still struggling to breathe, woozy and weak from shock and pain and lack of oxygen.

Swift follows the other horses easily. Maybe there's food where they're going.

[dashing]

Herian has exactly zero faith in Sina to stay on her own horse unaided. Instead she swiftly heaves the Dalish up onto Herian's own horse, lying on her stomach for a moment while Herian swings herself up onto his back, and then lifts Sina so she's sitting in front of Herian, better to keep her held in place. Quickly need not be said - she moves with as much haste as she is able, only pausing to look to Pel, a silent question to see if she needs anything else, if anything need be done or seen to.

And, if the returning look does not suggest it? Then she is ready to go at the first suggestion of it.

[mythalenaste]

Pel gives Herian a nod and speeds her horse to a canter, then a gallop, making a beeline toward the Inquisition camp. They have these animals, but the Dalish have halla. They need to move.