The thoughts and shouts brought on by the restrictive choices of the free-choice storyline of an Inquisitor forced into the role of Herald to a race disliked by most of his kind. Why was this said and done but not that? Why was that said and done but not this? Why was this and that not that and this but this but that but this? All your confusing questions answered in a more confusing way that warrants more confusion. (most of the time its just I shouting quietly at the window of the world, still unheard by those I govern with a joystick)

Rated M to be safe.

A/N: Some of these pertain to the storyline of the game, some don't. Some are AU, some I wish happened. There will be male x male relations in this story. If you do not like it, then skip them or just don't bother with the story. The ampersand (&) between two character names in the Char part is a warning of sorts. It means these two characters are shipped together in that particular chapter or drabble. I hope you enjoy - I certainly enjoyed writing this.

n,p = no pairing

Chars: Cassandra, Male Lavellan (Val'Aishlym)

Ch. Summary: Falling sounds appealing right about now...

Thinking Loudly, Shouting Silently: Inner Machinations of Val'Aishlym

Crying Seeker

It was a queer feeling – wondering the woods with his clan; being chosen to spy on the Conclave, having said Conclave literally blow up in his face; becoming the prisoner, held as the most hated person in Thedas….now suddenly he was the final hope of all Thedas – most beloved Herald of Andraste. Could these shemlens not make up their minds?

Do they hate him or do they love him?

Of course now everyone suffered because of the hands of humans. Doesn't matter if said human is a Tevinter Magister – no who cares about that little detail (but the shems, of course). It is a human that has, once again, caused the suffering of thousands of people. And why? Because the damn shems are greedy to a fault – quite literally.

And here is he, a Dalish Elf Hunter playing demon slayer – held as some sort of divine hero (more like a lyrium high and over glorified Grey Warden – he had once heard from someone in Val Royeaux). Even after the countless trials thrown at him – as the story behind the Breach revealed itself – people still believed he was some sort of chosen one. He understood the fact they needed something to anchor them – to give them hope. Honestly, he wasn't quite sure he was particularly radiating hope.

He wasn't a very religious person himself – though he did regularly pray to Andruil (and occasionally invoked Elgar'nan). He wasn't really sure that counted. Yes, it was faith in some higher being, but he wouldn't blindly thrust his entire being into this god's hand – maybe…. He didn't take things as they were and prayed and whined about things going wrong or being punished – no. They –being the Dalish Elves, of course – got up and did something about it – placated the god or goddess to show him or her that they remember and cherish their teachings.

Or maybe it was just him….? Maybe he was the only one that didn't take all this Maker and Creator business really seriously – Maybe….. He rubbed the vallasin – a simple design depicting Mythal under his eyes, across his high cheek bones.

He didn't really see a point in throwing faith in something that didn't touch the mortal world, as they so eloquently put it. If they weren't going to hear him or bother with him, what was the point, exactly? – Although …–

"Inquisitor," He was, rudely may he add, thrust from his dark musings –'Where am I?' – by Cassandra's voice. He rolled a head of long silver locks to the side, deep crimson eyes regarding the stiff Seeker.

She stood stiffly over him, staring out over his perch. He wonder why she was so stiff – was she bringing him more bad news about some shemlen he'd pretend to be broken up over losing? He knew he shouldn't so hateful, but at this point he was non-too-caring.

There was a continued silence between them that he was slowly getting annoyed by. She came up here, all the way on the wall, just to call for him and not say anything afterwards – and what's with the grim look – 'Oh dear Andruil, she wants me to do something….'

"I was wondering if I – If I could trouble you for a favor…."

'I wonder if I were to jump off the wall, would I survive the snowy fall….'

"It's more of a personal matter…but I do believe it would benefit the Inquisition if looked into,"

'Do I even want to survive the fall?'

"I have reason to believe that…."

'If I randomly, just-so-happenly, magically, accidentally on purpose get shot in the knee by my own arrow, would they leave me be for a day?'

"Is that a yes?"

"Wha-Ha- Yes…" Cassandra gave him a strange look before her face relax. She nodded her head.

"Thank you, ser. I will pass along the message to the commander for debate at the war table. Farewell." With that said, she walked off. He turned his head back to its original position, leaning against the stone where he sat between the gaps of the battlements.

"Why does it always sound like she's about to cry?" He thought out loud.

-End Notes: Inspired by...well you listen to her voice and tell me something different.