A nod. There's no part of that he hasn't heard before. It's unremarkable. How many villages have they both seen that met that fate? How often was it the way of things in the Blight? How often after?
"At Holmfirth, the only ones who survived were children," he begins, brow furrowed as he looks into the fire. "The eldest is the one who told me what happened."
That, in and of itself, was a terrible thing. The only good fortune was that the children had family, that they wouldn't be alone. But still—
"She said something that I've not been able to stop thinking of."
Too many. Too many to recall them all properly, too many to count. Occasionally Adrasteia considers taking up an old map, maybe one dated around the beginning of the Blight, just to see how many places have ceased to be in that timeframe.
Still. Children are a tender place for Adrasteia, and she murmurs 'Maker's breath' under her own. Hands him a bowl and waits to see what he'll say, what this child had communicated to him.
Maybe he won't say anymore. The stretch of silence in the wake of her exclamation goes on long enough that she'd be forgiven for assuming Ellis had simply wanted to say this thing: that there had been children, and they had survived, and they understood the price their parents had paid to ensure it.
It's a hard thing to live with.
But then, Ellis goes on, quieter, "She told me she saw a Warden. At first, what she was telling me sounded as if they were doing as they were meant to. But some of it..."
A shake of his head. The bowl is tipped in one hand.
She's learning, however, that a stretch of silence from Ellis does not necessarily mean he has finished speaking and so she exercises patience in the moment, shifting the cooking pot from the fire in favor of heating water for tea. She always has tea with her, even on excursions such as these; you never know when a small creature comfort might come in handy, and they're both Wardens besides. A little help with sleeping in the form of mint tea is not going to be remiss.
Keeping her hands busy also means not simply staring at him as he determines what information to share with her, and how, so she has to look up again when he speaks.
"Tell me." What he means, what he was told. She can handle it. Perhaps they can figure it out together.
Ellis' brow furrows into a frown. Not for Adrasteia, not really, but for the topic at hand. It's not only this story. It's the thing behind it, this bigger implication that Ellis can't make sense of.
"She was only a wee little thing," Ellis says first, words coming slowly, dropping like stones between them. "Scared to death and pretending otherwise."
A fact that's stuck in his mind, for so many reasons. This small girl, scared of him, scared of what she was trying to remember, squaring her jaw to bite out answers to questions Ellis was sorry to ask.
"Some of what she said made it sound as if the Warden were cooperating with the darkspawn," Ellis continues. His gaze has dropped to his hands, thumb working over his palm, the bent fingers of his hand. "But I couldn't tell if that's a true thing, or if it's an impression that came out of fear and confusion. At a point, I couldn't press her for anything else. You understand."
They're Wardens. They know exactly what it is to talk to people too shell-shocked by what they've survived to speak of it clearly, or at length.
She finishes the process of making the mint tea, waiting for it to cool a bit before handing off a cup to Ellis as he finishes speaking. Adrasteia can remember being a child during the Blight; the terror and the sadness at finding her parents, hiding from darkspawn, her mother's long and lingering death, and the firm kindness of Wardens asking her questions then bringing her to her cousin's.
"I don't think we can risk the possibility that what she saw and tried to communicate with you wasn't real." She takes her own teacup between both hands and blows on the surface of her tea. "Not after everything else we've been dealing with, here."
A sigh and she takes a sip. "There were three of them, in Vitroluçon. Two elves and a human, I think; a letter in poorly written Tevinter that the Lady d'Asgard translated as apologizing for what was happening to the people there. A Warden turned against our side is not an unreasonable consideration."
Even without the letter, with only what they know of what has become of certain factions of Wardens—
"The Wardens were apologizing?" he asks first, then tacks on, "Was it addressed?"
Is it a more welcome subject? The diversion away from three children who had survived something horrible to instead consider some new atrocity from which no one might manage to escape alive?
"No, not the Wardens, but the elves who were with the human there. They said his name is Eburnus, with a friend in Val Chevin with a green house, and that the darkspawn follow the Wardens, and that they were sorry about our people. The people in Vitroluçon, I presume, but it could be wider than that."
Adrasteia takes a breath. "It wasn't addressed, it was left behind to be found. I don't think the elves who were there want to be involved in this, but I don't think they have much of a choice, either." Then, a sip of tea.
Ellis is quiet for a long stretch after that, watching the fire. The tea is still warm, but he doesn't sip it. He is thinking of what he and Richard have been haphazardly collecting. Of what might become of that. Of what Ellis will need to do, where he will need to go. He will need to make the arrangements for that soon.
While he sits and ponders, Adrasteia finishes her tea, and pours herself another cup.
"I don't know. I'd like to imagine they would, but there's no way to be certain."
After all, the letter wasn't a call for help, exactly. More of an apology, and a means of finding the person who'd been leading the matter, she thinks.
"I think, if we were to try, we'd have to get them away from the human they're with first."
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no subject
"They didn't even manage to kill any of the darkspawn, the village had been so taken by surprise."
no subject
"At Holmfirth, the only ones who survived were children," he begins, brow furrowed as he looks into the fire. "The eldest is the one who told me what happened."
That, in and of itself, was a terrible thing. The only good fortune was that the children had family, that they wouldn't be alone. But still—
"She said something that I've not been able to stop thinking of."
no subject
Still. Children are a tender place for Adrasteia, and she murmurs 'Maker's breath' under her own. Hands him a bowl and waits to see what he'll say, what this child had communicated to him.
It'll be nothing good, she's sure of it.
no subject
It's a hard thing to live with.
But then, Ellis goes on, quieter, "She told me she saw a Warden. At first, what she was telling me sounded as if they were doing as they were meant to. But some of it..."
A shake of his head. The bowl is tipped in one hand.
"It didn't sound right."
no subject
Keeping her hands busy also means not simply staring at him as he determines what information to share with her, and how, so she has to look up again when he speaks.
"Tell me." What he means, what he was told. She can handle it. Perhaps they can figure it out together.
no subject
"She was only a wee little thing," Ellis says first, words coming slowly, dropping like stones between them. "Scared to death and pretending otherwise."
A fact that's stuck in his mind, for so many reasons. This small girl, scared of him, scared of what she was trying to remember, squaring her jaw to bite out answers to questions Ellis was sorry to ask.
"Some of what she said made it sound as if the Warden were cooperating with the darkspawn," Ellis continues. His gaze has dropped to his hands, thumb working over his palm, the bent fingers of his hand. "But I couldn't tell if that's a true thing, or if it's an impression that came out of fear and confusion. At a point, I couldn't press her for anything else. You understand."
They're Wardens. They know exactly what it is to talk to people too shell-shocked by what they've survived to speak of it clearly, or at length.
And this had been a little girl.
no subject
"I don't think we can risk the possibility that what she saw and tried to communicate with you wasn't real." She takes her own teacup between both hands and blows on the surface of her tea. "Not after everything else we've been dealing with, here."
A sigh and she takes a sip. "There were three of them, in Vitroluçon. Two elves and a human, I think; a letter in poorly written Tevinter that the Lady d'Asgard translated as apologizing for what was happening to the people there. A Warden turned against our side is not an unreasonable consideration."
no subject
Even without the letter, with only what they know of what has become of certain factions of Wardens—
"The Wardens were apologizing?" he asks first, then tacks on, "Was it addressed?"
Is it a more welcome subject? The diversion away from three children who had survived something horrible to instead consider some new atrocity from which no one might manage to escape alive?
no subject
Adrasteia takes a breath. "It wasn't addressed, it was left behind to be found. I don't think the elves who were there want to be involved in this, but I don't think they have much of a choice, either." Then, a sip of tea.
no subject
All these people, gone. Ruined. Dead.
Ellis is quiet for a long stretch after that, watching the fire. The tea is still warm, but he doesn't sip it. He is thinking of what he and Richard have been haphazardly collecting. Of what might become of that. Of what Ellis will need to do, where he will need to go. He will need to make the arrangements for that soon.
"Would they talk to us, if we could find them?"
A no wouldn't surprise him.
no subject
"I don't know. I'd like to imagine they would, but there's no way to be certain."
After all, the letter wasn't a call for help, exactly. More of an apology, and a means of finding the person who'd been leading the matter, she thinks.
"I think, if we were to try, we'd have to get them away from the human they're with first."