You wandered through the willows

[arcaneadvisor]

WHO: Morrigan, Herian Amsel
WHAT: Catching up after a fun time in a forest of hands and teeth
WHEN: Oh at some point in Bloomingtide
WHERE: Gallows
NOTES: Reference to violence and human sacrifice back in the Tirashan murder forest

Perhaps Morrigan should have sought Herian out sooner after they'd returned to Kirkwall upon returning from the Tirashan but she'd had her work to do with that name to research (so little, so vanishingly little), the trip to the Sunless Lands. Relocating Kieran as well after Gwenaëlle's news had taken time to do as well, settling a boy and all the things a boy gathers in the longest settled time of his life from Hightown out to Sundermount where he stays now outside his lessons.

By the time she had asked after Herian by the Chantry Relations office, the reply had been some mission, that she was away, my lady, shall I give word you asked for her. And Morrigan had said no, better to wait. Now she knows she's here, has heard her on the sending crystals and raps sharply upon the door before stepping inside because waiting to be called is for other people who aren't Morrigan.

"Knight-Enchanter, if you have the time to spare." In a time that very much implied that the time had better be spared for her. "We had no chance to speak after you accompanied me to the Tirashan, I wish to put that right."

Comments

and now i must apologise bc this is hideously late sorry sorry sorry

[dashing]

"I must confess I have had few experiences in forests and the wild that were ever pleasant." Her father's murder and her own torment, sheparding those elves of the cities wishing to escape dangerous circumstances and seeking cover from sight, only to be harassed by the Dalish, that ill-fated diplomatic mission, and now this—

Herian shakes her head a little. "There is a great deal that is romanticised of the wild. I cannot speak so boldly as to condemn them, but there are times I wonder at the fascination people have of forests and their beauty. They speak of them as places of freedom, condemn and scorn those better at ease in cities or villages, and yet— from what I have seen, they only allow freedom to those willing to tear lives and freedoms from others. Those willing to murder, torture and enslave find freedom and power in the forests, just as nobility find freedom and power in more tamed lands. Precious little remains to those who seek peace."

There is something heavy in her words, though she keeps her unhappiness from leeching in, and shakes her head.

"I apologise; that is not what you attended to discuss." Better to focus. Better to be sharp, accurate, to cut to the heart of matters and decipher the truth from all the rest.

"There are no gods?" she repeats, faintly bewildered. Herian has to resist the urge to rub at her jaws. "'Earning dominance,' 'actor and the acted upon'... those words to me suggest forcing others into submission. Gaining power through..." domination is what comes to mind, but she tries to reach for something different so as not to simply repeat what was in the quote. "Through a forced supremacy and authority over others, truth be told."

Wait, hang on. She pauses. "Am I correct in thinking that you... believe these elves do not worship the Creator gods of the Dalish, and deny their existence? And that they wish to ascend to their own dominance by bringing others under their control?"

Is she misunderstanding? Is she making too great or too small a leap in judgement? She hardly knows, as she watches Morrigan carefully, trying to gauge her response. Where is this going? Where will this lead?

(Franklin, in the meantime, noses at Morrigan's hand.)

[arcaneadvisor]

"There are those who grow nostalgic, but such longings come from the heart, and that is the fertile ground of treachery where such feelings are concerned. The Wilds were but the last place I left my mother, the place where her tales begin, if I were to take a first step outside Kirkwall where I have searched and searched every scrap of Sundermount, 'twas to where it all began for her and I." A heaviness lies there, words she would press deep in the swamps she has perhaps stepped through for the very last time in her life.

"For my own part, I was raised far from all others. Yet I would venture to villages. Lurk their outskirts. Had there been a town close by I might even have gone there, for that was all I knew, to be alone, so utterly alone. Perhaps that is what they seek in the noise of the towns and cities. I spent little time here," a gesture not entirely for the Gallows though that of course is a part of it, who can imagine Morrigan freely choosing to live inside walls such as these, "before moving myself to Sundermount. There is a wildness some seek there, an answer. A thing to conquer. For myself, I wish for less noise, less pressing about myself."

Herian might have noticed on the journey to and from the Tirashan the avoidance of touch with any of them, even Thranduil. Thranduil a friend, Thranduil beloved of Gwenaëlle. She shakes her head, the beadwork of her robes clatters gently. "You wished to speak of it, some words are better to be said."

Morrigan listens. Watches. Considers what she does know of Herian though much of it comes secondhand or when there was too much going on otherwise for her to give her full attention to anything other than finding what they were there for. Sharp. Quicker than others would be with it (how long had she placed hints of the eluvians before folk only to have to spell their truth to all but one who hadn't stepped through them? How jaded she is over these matters) and she inclines her head. (Franklin is indulged for her hands need something to do.)

"Yes." Short for her but this is-- extraordinary doesn't cover it. To have proof to a rumour, to the attacks about Serault driving people from their lands. "I am uncertain if they wish to ascend to dominance or godhood themselves yet, though by offering up blood and bodies as they do, those in Tirashan may be attempting to bring that about." After all there are ways to create cults, to lift up a god, and Morrigan has seen a dragon cult in the flesh not so horrifically many years ago that it's dulled.

Far easier to talk about it to Herian though. She's not Dalish. "The Creators have been far from the Dalish for so long, impossibly long, but I wonder what this being even was. It raises questions I never thought to ask before, about what a god might even be. They certainly were more than willing to worship."