(closed) She thought that I'd be wiser

[dashing]

WHO: Herian & Wanda
WHAT: Two people who have/had magic and are very chill
WHEN: vaguely end of year
WHERE: Kirkwall (Lowtown, perhaps a sprinkling of other-towns)
NOTES: Heads up for Tranquility (starts off with violence towards a Tranquil)

The balance of cost and benefit that Lowtown has seen since Rift Watch's arrival was ever at risk of being violently swung to the negative. Objectively speaking there had been many good intentions, much effort made by a good many of Rift Watch, and yet, how great an impact had been made was not so easily measured. How many more came to Kirkwall from Starkhaven, from across the Marches? What resentments were stirred by those not directly aided, or even those that were but still lost loved ones to the violence and chaos that Rift Watch's presence drew here? How much energy could rightly be given to resolving the systemic issues of Kirkwall when a war spread across all of Thedas?

All this would explain why Herian is surrounded as she is, and the thin thread of blood rolling from her cheek. The rock opened the wound lies nearby, others near by that didn't meet their mark.

Her voice is quiet, as taciturn and empty as her expression.

"The Tranquil are an outlet for your ire for which you will face no opposition. However, your concerns and frustrations would be better articulated--"

Another rock cuts her off, joined by others. Herian has raised an arm to partially shield her face, but lacks the urgency of a fighter, or the tension of fear.

Comments

i am so sorry it has taken me this long — life gobbled me up.

[explosion]

"Wanda."

It's the easiest answer to give. She's Wanda—just plain Wanda—and she may truly be in over her head.

But she doesn't allow the threat of overwhelm overtake her. She's in a strange place, with new rules, and what she's come to rely upon as a crutch is frowned upon so heavily she may just find herself in more trouble than the Raft. But this woman won't send her to the turbulent seas to rot away in a cell with a thick, heavy collar around her throat. Wouldn't that be asking for damnation for herself?

She wrings her hands together to stop herself from summoning what she wishes to summon. Magic. Power. A great, red wall. "You won't tell anyone, will you?"