faderift | Scallop the breastbone

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Scallop the breastbone

WHO: Morrigan, open;
WHAT: Morrigan (and Kieran) join the Inquisition earlier than planned; she looks for tutors, tale of the Warden's companions present and assistance with her research
WHEN: mid-Haring
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Kieran is an npc and as such shall be shuffled off elsewhere quickly. Feel free to spot her anywhere around Skyhold looking suitably disgusted.

With one small boy practically dead on his feet, it had been easier than it might have been elsewise to arrange for suitable quarters for a woman and her son, perhaps easier than it might have been had she come in a rather more official capacity. True, the eluvian might have been with her then but things were rather less organised than she would have hoped and the rumours filtering into Orlais hadn't been wrong about the utter chaos. Even when Orlesian theatrics were taken into account. No matter, they were here, the last of her things that were too much for the two of them to transport safely would arrive shortly and doubtlessly she would be able to find a safe place for them.

For now, her priorities are getting the lay of the land as it were and it's not long before yet another mage is prowling through Skyhold though this one will look any Templar in the eye until they look away first if challenged, a woman clearly on a mission.

Tutors for her son for a start, she won't have him neglecting his studies. Seeking old companions or word of them next when she heard talk on the road that she'd have the truth of. And lastly, help with her own research and the not inconsiderable stash of very old, and very rare magical books she's lugged all the way here from Orlais, with two volumes kept always on her person lest they be lost again.

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Now there is an elf very much unlike those she's been around so often lately, especially since the violence in Halamshiral.

"If a mission is finding someone competent then I am indeed," she replies with something of a smirk because honestly, you could herd cats and hope for more organisation. "What I seek are tutors in a variety of subjects, for my son, and for someone to give me the truth of the situation here. After all, stories of abominations on the loose will grow more arms and legs than a nest of spiders."

Well, the abomination story she'll seek first, to understand just how such a thing managed to happen under the Inquisition's watch, not a wholly comforting sign for a fledgling organisation with little to no support from anyone else in the world.

That earns a low chuckle. The elf tips his hat back slightly as he glances over her, terribly interested.

"That certainly would be a mission here," he says dryly, well aware of their state of affairs. Though he isn't part of the Inquisition for its impressive organizational status, that doesn't mean he can't observe that fact for himself as well. "I don't know what sort of tutors you would need, and I admit I would not be best fit to offer that advice." After all, he doubts she wants her son to be as roguish as he. "But I can attempt to explain matters with the abomination, if you like."

She isn't wrong; rumors grow so quickly after these matters, and spiral out of control.

"One of the mages, of course. Don't know who the unlucky bastard was, but in the middle of the night, the abomination started its little stampede through Skyhold. Just one, though if you asked a templar you'd get a number in the dozens."

With Leliana involved somewhere, though she hasn't encountered her yet, she had thought for something rather more. You couldn't be a hand of the Divine without knowing how to get the job done but clearly the Herald had held together more than Morrigan had initially thought with the threats on the horizon. Small wonder that there's no point in the Orlesians getting involved when they have more than enough going on on their own doorsteps.

"Of course, Templars are prone to exaggerations as a whole, tis why they join the order in the first place." Too many of the Templars are those who either believe they're carrying out some holy duty or out of this misguided belief that they defend the realms against a great and terrible evil. Still, she sighs, folding her arms in annoyance and she's glad she and Kieran weren't present for it.

The best way to deal with an abomination is quickly and given the many she's fought, she would have little problem in getting on with the job once her son was safe.

"A Circle mage or one of those from outwith? If I were the sort to gamble, I would say a Circle mage or a former Circle mage, I've seen their...lapses. A lifetime of restriction and then they seem to turn out rather wirld? How very surprising." Sarcasm drips off the last words, leaving absolutely no doubt as to her opinions on that matter but as if people would ever learn from such mistakes.

"Wisely spoken, madame. The paranoid that work together as group simply feed off of each other. Such is the way of them." Twisted Fate shrugs a little, a frown on his face as he considers the topic at hand. Less than pleasant, but he knows she desires information and he'd volunteered as much.

Though he does chuckle at her remark in regard to abomination topic.

"Former Circle, I believe, but I don't know for certain. It would surprise me if it had been an apostate and had always been one. A Circle mage is lucky to know how defend themselves, especially considering their Harrowings. In any case, I think we both agree in that regard."

"How sensible an attitude, I had wondered if such things had been forgotten or sucked into the tear in the sky." Rare praise but someone had to get it here and there were very few worthy of it from what she had learned so far.

"Ah yes, the Harrowing, allow us to test the minds we have taught to fear themselves all their days and offer them temptation on a plate and yet so many would still cling to the Circles and call it tradition and find no fault in it. Now freedom for others may already have been squandered." And it was always the mages like that who found themselves giving all others a bad name and unsavoury reptuation, mages who accepted their shackles easily and never reached their full potential. "Were there others killed beside the fool the creature once was?"

That earns a sharp grin, and he bows his head slightly. "I couldn't blame you for wondering, all things considered."

Oh, he's finding he's truly liking this woman further and further. Well spoken and intelligent, for certain. He certainly does not disagree in any regard; it always seemed foolish to throw a mage to the demons and expect them to come out on top when all they've ever known is to regret what they are. Which they should not.

"A few. Some too injured to recover, unfortunately. Certainly doesn't help the inevitable debate on the whole matter." He snorts. "There's no unity here. Not that I expect us all to hold hands and get along perfectly, but the more we argue about Circles and Chantries and Maker this and Andraste that, the less we really get done. And it's all rather droll."

Spend enough time in Orlais and you do start to forget that for all it claims to be a bastion of many great things, good sense and sanity are not amongst such things.

Still it intrigues her for Dalish elves in her experience have all be rather prickly, so many of them clinging to their traditional vestments and armour, going about with their bare feet. Honestly he puts her more in mind of Zevran though she knows where Zevran's eyes strayed with all of them first.

"Thedas will argue that even when the next Blight comes or the dreaded Qunari finally bring down all their wrath. If there ever was a sign that change should come, was that not the aftermath of the Conclave? Though you must have little stake in such proceedings when you have the look of a Dalish about you." Best to see how he reacts though he's told her more and quickly than she's gained from simple listening. "Your folk have little love of any such things, not that I could blame you."

Really, he supposes that was going to be the inevitable topic. It's not something he can really begrudge anyone for; the vallaslin is a dead giveaway, after all. It earns a variety of reactions -- including other Dalish.

A brow is lifted, but otherwise no real irritation before he lets out a dry chuckle. "I haven't really been in a clan since I was boy," he admits. "Most Dalish clans would rather just worry about their own asses than consider the rest of Thedas, and romanticize the past rather than do much else. I don't expect them to put their hands in everything, but frankly, I'm surprised there are as many Dalish here as there are. Suppose even they can't ignore things."

He shrugs a little. "Such as it is. No, for me, I've been traveling much of Thedas since I left my clan. Nice little eye-opener, in a lot of ways."

After so long around the elves of the palace that speak in such furtive whispers, especially after everything with Celene and Briala, it’s good to be around elves who freely speak their mind. And she has her own motives with so many to pester for their particular expertise and knowledge.

“Much has been lost; what made the Imperium great was what was stolen from the elves, old magic almost lost to time itself. There is some value in looking back.” Her voice is soft and she looks away, wondering once again how many would know the name this place once went by. “Perhaps this current crisis will be enough to make the clans realise they cannot be so isolated, not anymore. Rifts can open anywhere and there is fighted in the Exalted Plains thanks to the civil war, waged far from the palaces of course. I wonder if any clans were bolstered by those who managed to flee Halamshiral. Certainly, the last I saw so many Dalish they were with their clan with us as the outsiders, and yet I’ve seen only one aravel, much to my son’s disappointment.”

Small boys like landships, who knew.

“And where in Thedas did you pick up such a fashion sense? Granted, a change is welcome after watching too many of the dreadful Orlesian fashions as they change, but you do rather stand out as a whole.”

"Well, one can certainly hope. I would be surprised, frankly, but most clans I've encountered would be reluctant to include themselves. But it would be nice if their eyes would be opened to the rest of the world around them." As much as he doesn't seem impressed with his own people, the last statement is spoken sincerely. Fate doesn't necessarily dislike other Dalish, but they often disappoint.

"Ah, your son likes those?" A wry smile forms. "Does he have much interest in Dalish culture?"

Twisted Fate holds up his arms, as if he needs to show his coat more. "A little all over Thedas, really. I've been around to several places in my time. Shirt's Orlesian silk, but that's about it. Boots are Antivan inspired, and the coat I won from a nobleman in Kirkwall. Fair game of Wicked Grace. The hat is all me; had it made for myself." He grins sharply. "Not terribly Dalish of me, but few things are."

He indicates to her with a nod of his head. "And you, madame? Your wardrobe is something you acquired yourself? I don't think that I'd seen it before."

"The Arlathvhen is but once every ten years, is it not? The Dragon Age has proved less than restful and of those of us on the surface, humans are the ones with every advantage to survive such times with some comfort. Perhaps those of the Inquisition will return with new insight though we all know how people like to dig themselves into a rut so deep they see no point in attempting the climb back out." Morrigan would welcome them finding out more because what she's found herself has been almost beyond describing, the sense of wonder at the relics, things clans would perhaps only stumble over by accident before moving on. Such as that eluvian, shattered and broken and the tales that went with it. There are things worth setting pride aside for, she would always argue that a chance to regain their heritage would be worth it.

"Certainly, I was never a small boy but something about them does draw the eye. He goes where I go and so he tends to enjoy what I do, at least on some level. Old tales made all the better for they happened, no matter how impossible they may seem. I am sure that when he spies you, he'll be fascinated." Probably by the hat as much as anything else, he's seen too many masked faces and it'll be good for him to see so much more.

Antivan boots, or close enough, and it makes her smile at a memory. "I knew someone," well she knows him, he's here but they were all different then, "who talked a great deal about fine Antivan leather, I believe he gained such a pair of boots in our time together. I do hope you weren't in Kirkwall during any of the recent trouble, the stories that emerged from there are almost preferable to the truth."

Because really, blowing up a Chantry after a Qunari invasion? What astounding planning and timing.

"I grew up in the Korcari Wilds, away from most places and so I learned to sew my own clothes. There were Chasind close enough, twas easier to look to them than to my mother, no girl wishes to look like her mother," she explains, absently touching the stones about her throat, replaced and repaired countless times over the years. "I doubt many have troubled to venture far where I lived, and certainly not since the defeat King Cailan suffered at Ostagar."

"I can only hope that whatever they learn would carry on to the clans. They've spent too much time wrapped up in themselves; it's long since been past time to pay heed to the rest of Thedas. All this inward nonsense has done them more harm than good." It's not often he's on this topic, but he certainly does not disagree with her by any means. "Let us hope they'll become wiser for it."

Twisted Fate chuckles quietly. "I promise when I encounter him, I'll ensure he remains entertained. I've a few tricks here and there that he might like."

If there's one thing that can soften him, it is children -- much to his own reluctance, it can't really be helped.

"No, fortunately. I was far from Kirkwall when all was being said and done. On my own adventures, as it were."

There's a pause as he listens to her, then looks very curious. "A Witch of the Wilds?" he says, almost dramatically, with complete humor inclined. "Terribly curious. I understand that we have a few of the Hero of Ferelden's companions here, and I understand one of them was a Witch of the Wilds. Coincidence?" He grins sharply.

With a sigh she shrugs, half-smiling. "Who can say what wisdom the Dalish will take from this; likely they will pick over it and move on again for somewhere new and divide each thing up until smaller and smaller pieces and once again it shall slip through their fingers, through the cracks." That's why she's here, the one to sift through it all and make notes, to pore over each tiny thing without interruption or being forced to move on once again.

"Remember then that you said as much to his mother and that she'll know who to blame should he learn a thing or two that causes her grief." Whether it's from her teachings or simply a part of his nature, Kieran has never caused the sort of trouble most mothers speak of when talking about small boys. She's been fortunate on that account, best not to push though she won't deny him something that's likely considered normal for little boys.

"A tale for another time perhaps?" Of course she wants to know if only to satisfy her own curiousity but this way there's an easier excuse to seek him out in the future, if Kieran doesn't lead her there first.

Knowing that Zevran and Alistair are already about, and having had the fortune to meet Zevran on the road, there's no reason to play coy about such things. After all, there are likely still people looking for him, even she managed to lose track of where he was. "Since the days of Calenhad we witches of the wild have always played our part in shaping the ages of the world. The Blight began by my home for that matter, I met them from the start though there are books and bards if you wish to hear the tale told." Ten years though and the world forgets so quickly that it hurts, an old wound pressed too sharply.

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Scallop the breastbone

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