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WHO: Adalia and a bunch of other people
WHAT: Closed and open threads both backdated and current
WHEN: Throughout both Cloudreach and Bloomingtide
WHERE: All about Kirkwall
NOTES: this post will be left blank and all starters will be in the comments. contact me on plurk at

salvatrice if you'd like a starter!

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[ he does not like that smile. his own face remains pleasantly content in turn as he watches her get a closer look, hands behind her back so she is not tempted to touch; someone taught her well as a child. not well enough to instill perfect stillness in her, but well enough.

she says things he already knows, but she clearly coaxed them out of one of the dalish, so good on her for getting that far with one of them. beleth, he supposes. if they've bonded over the foul creatures it will be all that more difficult to separate his almost-daughter from the one she thinks she's tamed. ]

They did, [ he says. he'd enjoyed himself a great deal, slinking around and mock-frightening sina. ]

What do you think of their stories? Myth, truth, something in between?

❰ thranduil must be smart to have made his way to division head, and more than that he's sure to be cunning, being a rifter elf who's made it this high within the outpost's hierarchy. but has solas spoken to him of the creators, or is it just the dalish? and if it has just been the dalish perspective, has he heard it from someone like ellana, who is rational and permissive, or someone more superstitious?

it occurs to adalia, after a moment, that the question must sound somewhat strange, and she laughs. ❱

Sorry, I don't mean to... pry, I suppose that's a word for it. I'm just fascinated by the Creators, since they're so much more like the gods I know from my plane. I'm trying to figure out whether they were real, if they were really gods, et cetera.

❰ which is not the entire truth... but neither is it untrue. ❱

I do not presume to judge the history of the Dalish to be 'stories'.

[ his own thoughts, the ones he's shared with galadriel, are that history is muddled when you must trust children to pass it on, and that and that alone for two thousand years. ]

What does it matter to you? [ he asks. ] Do you think the Dalish would thank you for speaking about it?

[ finding out one way or another- what does it matter that a rifter tells them? does she think the dalish will laud her for it, or that they will care about her opinion? it is presumptuous, and he dislikes her for it. ]

They are hardly unused to outsiders being fascinated with how they live their lives.

Oh, I don't think the Dalish would care one way or another what I think. I just want to know so that I know.

❰ adalia doesn't collect knowledge so that she might disseminate it and then pat herself on the back and call herself the victim when it's turned away. if she were to share anything she discovered with the dalish, they would be well within their rights to turn her away, no matter what she knew, because she's a rifter, because she's a half-elf, because what the fuck does it matter now when the creators are gone and they don't seem to be coming back? let them keep their stories, if they make them so happy. let them tell themselves the tales that make them feel cared for.

adalia likes to know things just so that she knows them. she likes true and false, fact and fiction, and though she can understand how the two will blend over time, she'd always prefer to find the fact at the root of it all.

she continues blithely, unaware of thranduil's judgment. ❱

Everything is a story, isn't it? We all tell ourselves the things we like to believe, or the things we remember, and those get passed down and changed in the telling, and what was historical fact becomes another story. That doesn't make it any less valuable. The best stories are always based in truth, and I want to find the truth of the Creators because they're one of the few things in this plane I relate to.

Such is the way of the world when there is no one to remember, [ he says. mistakes that ought not to have been repeated are, and frequently. human memory is such a fragile, fickle thing, and they make heroes out of their dead, when their dead were as mortal and weak and prone to error as they themselves were. they lose the most important elements in the telling and retelling.

but there is no one to keep the memory here, least of all for the dalish. two thousand years ago, he was not yet a father, but the time seems small to him, the time between the fall of the dales and now even shorter. if he had arrived earlier, perhaps-- ]

Seek the truth of Andraste instead, [ he suggests. ] Or Shartan. That will be kinder than digging up two thousand year old corpses better left where they were.

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