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The way the Keeper always told it, she stayed a halla forever, and though Andruil still loved her, they could never be together. When we have to bury our dead, [ Which he should know, since he'll have to be witness to such things, ] we sacrifice a halla in Andruil's name so Ghilan'nain's spirit can guide our souls to the Beyond, and afterwards be reunited with her beloved.
[ Athessa shrugs, gesturing with her pen. ]
There's a lot left to interpretation, though.
[ Athessa shrugs, gesturing with her pen. ]
There's a lot left to interpretation, though.
"I, um." He said that before. He's doing terribly already. "I just wanted to tell you you've been very kind to me? And I haven't exactly acted grateful to you. So I, um, made you a couple of things? I wasn't sure which one you'd like better, so--yes."
He offers the box first. "It's, um, I did a bit of reading about Orlesian food, and I made you a clay-pot tarte tatin because I thought, I thought it might be familiar. And Athessa said you'd like it if I painted something."
If Bastien takes the box, Colin will flip the small frame to reveal a watercolor painting.
He offers the box first. "It's, um, I did a bit of reading about Orlesian food, and I made you a clay-pot tarte tatin because I thought, I thought it might be familiar. And Athessa said you'd like it if I painted something."
If Bastien takes the box, Colin will flip the small frame to reveal a watercolor painting.
Perhaps I shall worry about my parasol, which was snatched up by the wind to-day and is even now being conveyed to parts unknown.
[ Next to the words, a small drawing of a very small parasol among a few fluffy clouds. ]
Although there is little I can do about a playfully pilfered parasol and I try to only worry about things I might have the power to affect, and whether or not affecting them should be good to do. When I see a storm, or a pirate ship, or a Crow, or my parasol again, or hear the first notes of "Ah! Le frecce volano" [ a famed and perniciously shrill aria from the end of L'Elfo e la Fanciulla, written back when it was popular to stretch out other country's folk ballads interminably. (Since he'd 'sung' her Girl From Red Crossing.) ] I shall commence fretting.
(Of course, if the Crow is come to kill me and I see them with enough time to worry before they make attempt, I will fret a little less as they are not a very good Crow.)
This to say that since I have done, now, what I may, I shall not worry after you until such time as I receive your signal...
Which I humbly request not be the first notes of "Ah! Le frecce volano".
—A
[ Next to the words, a small drawing of a very small parasol among a few fluffy clouds. ]
Although there is little I can do about a playfully pilfered parasol and I try to only worry about things I might have the power to affect, and whether or not affecting them should be good to do. When I see a storm, or a pirate ship, or a Crow, or my parasol again, or hear the first notes of "Ah! Le frecce volano" [ a famed and perniciously shrill aria from the end of L'Elfo e la Fanciulla, written back when it was popular to stretch out other country's folk ballads interminably. (Since he'd 'sung' her Girl From Red Crossing.) ] I shall commence fretting.
(Of course, if the Crow is come to kill me and I see them with enough time to worry before they make attempt, I will fret a little less as they are not a very good Crow.)
This to say that since I have done, now, what I may, I shall not worry after you until such time as I receive your signal...
Which I humbly request not be the first notes of "Ah! Le frecce volano".
—A
Don’t you?
[ But—perhaps as apology for that earlier will you—it’s rhetorical. ]
I grew up near the alienage in Val Royeaux. Everyone liked to say, You could do worse! [ Chipper, with the rough edge of an uneducated accent and the rote intonation of a worn-out old joke. ] By being an elf. And we—the children, I mean—we threw rocks at the gates.
[ He takes a card, then discards it without trading. ]
After I was done thinking I was better than them, I spent some time thinking we were the same. But now no one knows what I’ve come from unless I tell them. With elves, everyone always knows.
[ But—perhaps as apology for that earlier will you—it’s rhetorical. ]
I grew up near the alienage in Val Royeaux. Everyone liked to say, You could do worse! [ Chipper, with the rough edge of an uneducated accent and the rote intonation of a worn-out old joke. ] By being an elf. And we—the children, I mean—we threw rocks at the gates.
[ He takes a card, then discards it without trading. ]
After I was done thinking I was better than them, I spent some time thinking we were the same. But now no one knows what I’ve come from unless I tell them. With elves, everyone always knows.
Your ears are surpassingly cute.
[ A card drawn. And then, finally - ]
And I do. Yes. Don't get me wrong, they're a bit creepy - those eyes, you know - but if one were to stab me and every other human in the heart for what we'd done, I'd consider it a fair cop.
[ A card drawn. And then, finally - ]
And I do. Yes. Don't get me wrong, they're a bit creepy - those eyes, you know - but if one were to stab me and every other human in the heart for what we'd done, I'd consider it a fair cop.
Bastien does take the box, looking faintly bewildered. Not in a what's the matter with you, you socially incompetent madman way, though. Just the way of someone who wasn't expecting a gift and is on the verge of saying it wasn't necessary.
Instead, when Colin turns the frame, he breaks into a smile and leans closer to peer at it.
"That's beautiful. It reminds me of the west." He stops just short of touching a rock formation. "Did you do all of those stars one by one, or—?"
Instead, when Colin turns the frame, he breaks into a smile and leans closer to peer at it.
"That's beautiful. It reminds me of the west." He stops just short of touching a rock formation. "Did you do all of those stars one by one, or—?"
Socially incompetent madman is about how Colin feels most of the time, but he's visibly relieved when Bastien likes the painting.
"Not all of them. I liked...I liked it looking sort of accidental. It took practice, though. The paint can't be too thin or thick."
"Not all of them. I liked...I liked it looking sort of accidental. It took practice, though. The paint can't be too thin or thick."
[ He thinks about asking if that's what she intends to do when they go. Half with interest—how will she find one? Does she know how? And half with trepidation, because he's fond of animals, and watching one die for a ritual would be difficult.
But she wanted to talk about happy things, so he doesn't ask, and his face doesn't change in any way that would suggest he was considering it. ]
Do the Dalish have an—an afterwards? Like how the Chantry says someday the Maker will return and make everything perfect. Is there a time coming when they would be together forever?
But she wanted to talk about happy things, so he doesn't ask, and his face doesn't change in any way that would suggest he was considering it. ]
Do the Dalish have an—an afterwards? Like how the Chantry says someday the Maker will return and make everything perfect. Is there a time coming when they would be together forever?
[ Athessa herself is fond of animals, and though she's a decent hunter there is still a difference between killing for food and killing for ritual. Not that the halla will go to waste; she'll have to make sure that the animal doesn't suffer, and use ever part of it to honor its sacrifice.
But it's still nerve-wracking. What if she does it wrong? ]
Supposedly when we die, our spirits walk the paths in the Beyond until they reach the Eternal City, where they'll live forever among the gods and receive the answers to life's mysteries.
[ It's one of those things where the more you think about it, the less sense it makes. She laughs, rueful. ]
I wish I'd paid more attention to the stories the Keeper told us, now.
But it's still nerve-wracking. What if she does it wrong? ]
Supposedly when we die, our spirits walk the paths in the Beyond until they reach the Eternal City, where they'll live forever among the gods and receive the answers to life's mysteries.
[ It's one of those things where the more you think about it, the less sense it makes. She laughs, rueful. ]
I wish I'd paid more attention to the stories the Keeper told us, now.
“It turned out well,” Bastien says. Obviously he’s not an expert, but he knows what he likes. “I love it. Thank you. Can you, ah—here.”
He sets the box on his desk, then comes back for the painting, so he can take it instead.
“Is it somewhere you’ve been?”
He sets the box on his desk, then comes back for the painting, so he can take it instead.
“Is it somewhere you’ve been?”
[ Redacting more line items on the papers in her lap is a perfect stalling tactic while she tries to work out how to word her fears in that respect. ]
Once or twice, but...I dunno. I always figured, best case scenario I'd get treated like a child because I don't have the tattoos. Or get turned away for the same reason I never wound up in the Alienage here. She's not one of ours.
[ If the best case scenarios bother her, she doesn't show it. This is bitterness that she's carried around long enough to be used to it. ]
Once or twice, but...I dunno. I always figured, best case scenario I'd get treated like a child because I don't have the tattoos. Or get turned away for the same reason I never wound up in the Alienage here. She's not one of ours.
[ If the best case scenarios bother her, she doesn't show it. This is bitterness that she's carried around long enough to be used to it. ]
[ It is eminently missable, but if Bastien should happen to look the next morning—or any time thereafter—he will find that the bird has gained an equally tiny companion in the sky nearby. ]
“Reality, improved upon. That’s perfect.”
He walks it to the shelves over his desk, which are scattered with a few haphazardly stacked books lying on their sides but otherwise very bare, and gives it a place in the center.
“You didn’t need to do anything for me at all, but I like it too much to let you have to back now.”
He walks it to the shelves over his desk, which are scattered with a few haphazardly stacked books lying on their sides but otherwise very bare, and gives it a place in the center.
“You didn’t need to do anything for me at all, but I like it too much to let you have to back now.”
That makes Colin relax a bit, though he doesn't walk into the room, as he hasn't been invited. Is he supposed to walk in? Is the invitation implicit? How does he know?
"I know. I..." He glances into the hallway and finally walks in, since the discussion is about to get personal, shutting the door behind him. "I just, I realized all you probably know about me is one of the worst things that's ever happened to me, and I know almost nothing about you, and there's only one way to fix that."
"I know. I..." He glances into the hallway and finally walks in, since the discussion is about to get personal, shutting the door behind him. "I just, I realized all you probably know about me is one of the worst things that's ever happened to me, and I know almost nothing about you, and there's only one way to fix that."
[ She laughs, though the idea of being kept feels overly confining. ]
Maybe, if I can find another clan, and they can get past the lack of a vallaslin, and all the affronts to elfdom I'm guilty of, and don't require me to stay with them forever, or expect me to make elf babies.
[ Should be easy to find a clan that'll forgive all that, right? Piece of cake. Walk in the park. ]
Maybe, if I can find another clan, and they can get past the lack of a vallaslin, and all the affronts to elfdom I'm guilty of, and don't require me to stay with them forever, or expect me to make elf babies.
[ Should be easy to find a clan that'll forgive all that, right? Piece of cake. Walk in the park. ]
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