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
"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."