He’s sluggish for drink: Takes in tense shoulders, tense eyes. Scrutiny. Sight and understanding meet only when she speaks –
"Never liked ours much, either," Orlais would sooner shutter the Fade than tend His first children. "Almost been a few wars for it."
It isn't the same (the snapped leg of a horse). Nevarrans aren’t heretics, don’t harbor apostates; don’t fuck with false gods and blood magic. Cedric's eyes slip shut. If she'd put his head on a gate, that's half the work done.
(The funny bend in Broward’s shield arm, the one never healed quite right. Dalish, he’d said. Maleficar. Wondered at the force it must take, to make a man break his own bones.)
"How d’you bury someone in all this?"
The stars, poking through dusk; straggled lines of cloud. A horizon that stretches on, and on.
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"Never liked ours much, either," Orlais would sooner shutter the Fade than tend His first children. "Almost been a few wars for it."
It isn't the same (the snapped leg of a horse). Nevarrans aren’t heretics, don’t harbor apostates; don’t fuck with false gods and blood magic. Cedric's eyes slip shut. If she'd put his head on a gate, that's half the work done.
(The funny bend in Broward’s shield arm, the one never healed quite right. Dalish, he’d said. Maleficar. Wondered at the force it must take, to make a man break his own bones.)
"How d’you bury someone in all this?"
The stars, poking through dusk; straggled lines of cloud. A horizon that stretches on, and on.