Galadriel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
laurenande) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
faderift2016-01-25 01:29 pm
laurenande) wrote in faderift2016-01-25 01:29 pm
Entry tags:
[Closed] - Spinning Threads
WHO: Galadriel, Zevran
WHAT: Chatting before the departure for the Emprise Du Lion
WHEN: Backdated slightly, early to mid-Wintersmarch.
WHERE: Skyhold: Great Hall
Galadriel's schedule was nothing if not predictable. She made no attempt to hide her movements in Skyhold, not on whole, and was extremely easy to locate. Her mornings were spent watching the sunrise in the garden, mid-mornings saw her reading in the Rotunda, mid-day she spent outdoors, and in the afternoons and evenings she retired to further the tasks she had taken on.
There were only a few tasks she carried out, and all of them were the sort that could be trusted to the untrustworthy. Many in Skyhold still suspected that the rift-folk were demons, after all, and she could not blame them for their caution. Redundant as they were, she did her tasks as dutifully as anyone else, and was otherwise left to her own devices.
At current, there was little to occupy her, so she had taken to spinning fine gold thread. The blacksmiths had been kind enough to reduce several coins (all the gold she had gained in these lands) to little more than flakes. With great care, Galadriel wound them into the silk fibers she had acquired from the merchants in the yard and hand spun a considerable length of thread.
It was a mundane task, apart from the bowl of fine golden flakes at her elbow, but it was pleasant and calming. The afternoon light streamed beautifully through the stained glass windows of the great hall. Very few people paid her any mind and Galadriel ignored them in kind as she worked.
WHAT: Chatting before the departure for the Emprise Du Lion
WHEN: Backdated slightly, early to mid-Wintersmarch.
WHERE: Skyhold: Great Hall
Galadriel's schedule was nothing if not predictable. She made no attempt to hide her movements in Skyhold, not on whole, and was extremely easy to locate. Her mornings were spent watching the sunrise in the garden, mid-mornings saw her reading in the Rotunda, mid-day she spent outdoors, and in the afternoons and evenings she retired to further the tasks she had taken on.
There were only a few tasks she carried out, and all of them were the sort that could be trusted to the untrustworthy. Many in Skyhold still suspected that the rift-folk were demons, after all, and she could not blame them for their caution. Redundant as they were, she did her tasks as dutifully as anyone else, and was otherwise left to her own devices.
At current, there was little to occupy her, so she had taken to spinning fine gold thread. The blacksmiths had been kind enough to reduce several coins (all the gold she had gained in these lands) to little more than flakes. With great care, Galadriel wound them into the silk fibers she had acquired from the merchants in the yard and hand spun a considerable length of thread.
It was a mundane task, apart from the bowl of fine golden flakes at her elbow, but it was pleasant and calming. The afternoon light streamed beautifully through the stained glass windows of the great hall. Very few people paid her any mind and Galadriel ignored them in kind as she worked.
no subject
For the first time since she had sworn that oath to Adelaide, she was tempted to break it--to know how his heart wound through his words would grant her much ease. Though if she did read his heart, any trust she found would likely be lost.
It was fortunate, she supposed, that she did not readily break oaths.
"I would not look upon them with such disdain, mellon nin," Galadriel replied. Her tone was too calm to be called chiding, but held just enough reproach that it couldn't be deemed anything else. "Bloodshed and suffering have poisoned us both; that we readily agree to call the world cruel marks us more clearly than any scar.
"No, I dearly envy them, for they see much beauty that we do not, and feel the shadow more keenly when it falls across them," she said and, after a beat, cast an almost wry smile at him. "I envy you as well, but that is no surprise."
She had always been bold, in word and deed, but the few times she had spoken with as much candor and pride as he? She did not regret the occasions, not precisely, but she had spent thousands upon thousands of years paying the price for them. Ah, to be headstrong with youth and conviction.
"But this is a conversation where we both have faltered, is it not? I would forgive you if you would do me the same."
no subject
Alistair's trick, not his, but it works well enough.
"It is a poison we both took for different reasons, I should think. Something we have both survived. I do not begrudge them their bleeding hearts- merely their judgement of my scars. I do so weary of them seeing me and coming to conclusions- well. Conclusions that I have not quite yet deserved. Let me earn my scorn if I am to earn it." A strange way of living through the world, but the only one he knew. The only way he could keep what was himself safe and tucked away, what they saw ready and waiting for them. "I forgive you, though truly? There is nothing to forgive. You were behind honest."