"The Commander? Cullen? What would he do, besides stand around and look pretty? Maybe blame it on the mages." She snapped it out, words harsher than they'd be with anyone outside of the clan. It's not even that she minds Cullen that much. Panic is gripping her heart as Cyril reaches the conclusion that the evidence is forcing her to as well. She wants something simple, she wants this to turn out to be a prank, they're overthinking it, they're freaking out over nothing--
She leans against the rock again, both hands covering her face now. Deep breaths, deep breaths. She can feel the edge of a fit creeping up on her, and that never helps.
Slowly, slowly, she breathes. Freaking out isn't going to help.
"Lady Nightingale should be the first person alerted. She's Zevran's friend, and whoever came in here didn't do it with an army. The Iron Bull would be another good place to start. He's a trained spy, too." Compartmentalize. Make a list of people. She sorts through who she knows, trying not to look like she's on the edge of a meltdown. She can't look like that around anyone else--Cyril is safe, but they can't do this alone. Fits will have to wait until after people.
"Pel. Pel needs to be told. Gavin. Everyone from our clan. Alistair--I'll tell Alistair. He has to know."
She lifts her face from her hands, turning to Cyril. Then, before everything becomes a rush and tumble of people and questions and theories, she reaches to him, and pulls her clanmate into a tight hug. She's not sure if she's trying to reassure herself, or him, more.
no subject
She leans against the rock again, both hands covering her face now. Deep breaths, deep breaths. She can feel the edge of a fit creeping up on her, and that never helps.
Slowly, slowly, she breathes. Freaking out isn't going to help.
"Lady Nightingale should be the first person alerted. She's Zevran's friend, and whoever came in here didn't do it with an army. The Iron Bull would be another good place to start. He's a trained spy, too." Compartmentalize. Make a list of people. She sorts through who she knows, trying not to look like she's on the edge of a meltdown. She can't look like that around anyone else--Cyril is safe, but they can't do this alone. Fits will have to wait until after people.
"Pel. Pel needs to be told. Gavin. Everyone from our clan. Alistair--I'll tell Alistair. He has to know."
She lifts her face from her hands, turning to Cyril. Then, before everything becomes a rush and tumble of people and questions and theories, she reaches to him, and pulls her clanmate into a tight hug. She's not sure if she's trying to reassure herself, or him, more.