[open] you are gone, you are gone, you are gone

[doneisdone]

WHO: Teren and anyone who wants to bug her
WHAT: she sad
WHEN: after Loghain's departure, before the tourney
WHERE: Kirkwall, mostly the Gallows
NOTES:

She saw him off, at least.
Teren remembers being wrenched from someone, her nails digging so deeply she left faint scars on their arms long after the iron door was shut behind her. She was in her thirties then, young but not a child, aware of the world's little cruelties but not so deeply yet that she stopped believing Zerique would come for her.

Of course, Zerique never did. And there was no one else until Loghain, whose departure isn't violent or forcible; he has things to do elsewhere, they'll keep in contact, there's a short but affectionate kiss before he turns and makes his way down the hill and away.
Teren stands still as a stone as he takes his leave, remaining there long after he's disappeared from view, her dark eyes veiled and her expression absent.


When she returns to her quarters, she doesn't lock herself in or avoid anyone. That would suggest a depth of feeling and vigor of emotion that, should she betray it, she's not sure she could ever recover. Instead, she goes about her work, cares for Boots, makes her purchase orders, darns the Wardens' socks, with the sort of mindlessness that certain rifters might attribute to automatons.

Nothing is wrong, she insists, if asked. The mildness of her response, her total disinterest in rising to her usual curtness, speaks otherwise.
She'll be fine.

Comments

[doneisdone]

In truth, it's probably good that people are coming around here and there, and perhaps this is why Teren hasn't shut them out entirely; none have seen her at her absolute lowest, and while this still isn't, it's still something of a dangerous place. She's sitting by the window, sewing untouched in her lap, and she turns to look at Anders when he enters.
Looking at first like she wants to protest, she instead just shrugs one shoulder and looks back out at the window. "Cups are on the shelf," she murmurs.

[justice_is_blond]

There's no arguing. It scares him more than anything else she could do. Anders grabs the cups and pours, generously for her and just a little amount for him, before joining her at the window.

"I... I know you won't talk. But I want to help, if I can. If there's a way to." He isn't a healer for the sole reason that he can heal. It's also that he wants to. He cares about people, particularly those he sees as his own, and Teren is one of them.

[doneisdone]

She takes the cup, but just stares at it for now, continuing to sit quietly and mostly motionless.
"You can't," finally comes the answer, quietly, almost gently. "There's naught to be done."