It was raining yet again. Not even a light drizzle, but a steady downpour of fat rivulets that soaked through even the toughest leather to chill the skin. It darkened the sky deeper than the swirling grey clouds above, tinting the whole world into monochrome, and making the whole trip even more miserable. Naturally, Dorian hated it.

He had been riding for days, with the stern silence of Cassandra and the occasional uncomfortable discussion points from Cole. His hair and clothes alike were plastered to his skin. They hadn't been given enough time for a proper meal since they left Skyhold two days prior. This, along with the fact that he could tell he had only been dragged along because their Inquisitor felt it was to bring along another mage, but had grown frustrated with Madame de Fer and developed a growing discomfort around Solas.

It certainly didn't help that the Inquisitor's mood was plummeting with every passing minute. Leliana's spies had been adamant about the information that had started them on this mission in the first place, but the party had yet to find any trace of the handful of Dalish elves that amounted to the last of Clan Lavellan. Every now and then, Cole would open his mouth to speak the emotion of where they were, making Inquisitor Lavellan look up hopefully. Cole had yet to say anything fruitful, however, and it was beginning to put a strain on them.

"Perhaps it would be wise to reach out to one of Sister Leliana's scouts," Dorian announced, throwing caution to the wind in preference of some semblance of conversation. "If only to have at least one person skilled in tracking."

The second he said it, Dorian realized he had made a mistake in calling out the foolishness of their party. The Inquisitor scowled at him, the twist of her features pulling the fluid blue lines of her vallaslin into strange knots. It rather complemented the disgust she held for him, he thought sardonically.

"We have no way of doing that - which you'd be aware of if you thought for one second before opening your mouth," she snapped. "And we have Cole."

Cole, as if triggered by the Inquisitor mentioning him, spoke up, "Rage like fire. Not at a person, but at a people. 'Your kind are all the same'. Wanting for someone better."

Dorian gave a sigh, "I'm well aware, Cole, thank you."

"I follow, but I can't find. Not unless there is pain for me to heal."

"There should be," the Inquisitor said. "We just lost our clan, they're traveling through unfamiliar land. We should be able to find them with Cole."

Dorian bit his tongue to keep from arguing at how beneficial it would have been to have someone who could do a bit of scouting. Someone who could recognize tracks or whatever other things scouts look for. He supposed there weren't too many people in the inner circle who would be able to help much more. One of the Chargers, he thought, might've said something about being a hunter…

"Guilt gnawing like mabari teeth. Need washing over it like a balm.'There are children, but I have to.' Hungry mouths at home. Hungry shame at hand."

All three turned to look at Cole, various shades of alarm on all of their expressions. Still, Cole continued, his voice more pained this time.

"Cold, it's so cold here. Blankets woven in pretty colors. Roaring fire smothered in the din of laughter. Mi'nas'sal'in. It hurts low and quiet like burning charcoal. Have to keep going. Have to find her."

Everyone sat up a little straighter at that. The Inquisitor very nearly fell of her hart at the announcement.

"It's them."

"We do not know for-"

Cassandra didn't have time to finish before Lavellan dug her heels into the beast and took off in the direction Cole was facing. Cassandra gave a frustrated sigh and motioned for everyone to follow her after their Inquisitor. Dorian watched as Cole vanished from sight, no doubt rematerializing much further ahead of them, using some spirit equivalent of fade step.

Whoever they were going to find ahead of them, they were definitely going to find a fight. The sounds of iron clashing was growing louder as they charged through the trees. Dorian ground his horse to a stop as he nearly trampled something small and humanoid.

Cassandra was off her horse, sword drawn and charging forward, the second he did. Dorian dismounted, growing nearer to the tiny figure now crouching at the base of a tree in fear. He was able to pick out more about them as he grew closer.

They were a slight, young thing. Too slim for a human. Tapered ears stuck out of their disheveled blonde hair. Their clothes were tattered, their skin covered in dirt, as if they hadn't the opportunity to wash in a long time. If Dorian had to guess an age for them, he would have put them at around nine.

He knelt down, keeping a good distance away from the trembling child, and said, "Terribly sorry about that. Are you alright?"

The elf looked up, pale blue eyes widening in fear, and began to scream. The sound was high and sharp, tinged with a bloodcurdling fear that sent Dorian falling back. They curled up closer on themself as if trying to put as much distance between them and him.

Dorian muttered apologies, pulling away even as Cole appeared near the child, two more huddled close behind him. He left the spirit to comfort the child, instead pulling his staff from his back and rushing to join the fray ahead of him.

It was a small skirmish, a handful of Fereldan humans against what looked to be two Dalish. He tried to pick them out as he threw a barrier around his allies. He saw the woman first, her black hair cropped short against her head, a maul with a handle as long as she was tall in her hands. There was a feral snarl to her lips as she rammed through the humans who had ambushed them.

Where the woman fell short, opening herself up to attacks with broad swings of her warhammer, there was the other elf. Dorian couldn't get a good look at them from how quickly they moved. They were a dancing whirlwind of silver and shades of brown. Blood splattered out after each swipe of their blades like trails marking where they moved.

Dorian tore his eyes away from them, instead turning his attention to the Fade to shape it to his needs. He tugged at the particles he wanted, lining up a clear path to who he wished to hit, and extended his staff. Sparks of static arched across his fingertips as lightning sprang from the focus at the tip of his staff.

Between Cole, Cassandra, and the elves, it was an easy enough fight. As the last man fell, Dorian lowered his staff, only to find a knife at his throat. He turned slightly, just enough to see who had him at their mercy.

It was the other Dalish elf, now perfectly visible in his stillness. Dorian's eyes trailed up the dagger, as long as his forearm and beautifully crafted with a elegant curve of the blade, up to eyes in a shade of green he had thought impossible. At this distance, Dorian could see they were more masculine. The elf was all graceful lines, a beautiful symphony of hard edges and soft curves. High cheekbones, defined jaw, full lashes, and auburn hair pulled back in intricate braids close against their head. A golden tree was emblazoned across their face, dead and crooked branches spread across their forehead and around their eyes, trunk extending across full lips to their chin, interrupted only by a soft blue eyeshadow. Maker, they were pretty.

They cocked their head at him inquisitively, and he swore he could see recognition in their eyes.

"Elian," the other Dalish called, voice rougher than he'd expected. " Dinal !"

The rogue dropped his blade, sheathing it within his coat, and his lips pulled into a wickedly charming grin, "Dorian Pavus. Avanna." There was a twitch at the corner of the elf's eye and his smile seemed to falter for a second, but then it was gone and he continued speaking. "I didn't expect to see you this far south."

Dorian's jaw fell at the words. He hadn't expected a Dalish elf to know him, much less have a flawless Tevene accent.

"Do I know you?"

"You don't recognize me."

It wasn't a question, but before he could answer it, the Inquisitor grabbed the man by the shoulder and turned him round. There was a look of disgust on her face as she looked at him.

" Fen'linast ," she spat out the word like poison. "What are you doing here?"

"Lovely to see you, Tyla, as always."

Their tone was surprisingly polite, if exhausted, despite her venomous acknowledgement. He wondered what they had done to earn such ire from her, and yet still offer her respect.

Of course, Dorian had long since learned it didn't take much to earn Tyla's unwavering hatred. Humans, templars, Circle supporters, Tevinter, blood mages, slavers, the list grew a little each day. It was equally easy for individuals to regain her trust, but not for the whole of their kind. Although he had to admit she was growing a little less hateful each day.

"What are you doing here?" she repeated.

The other Dalish, the swordswoman with the greatsword now strapped to her back, placed her hand gently on the Inquisitor's shoulder. Her voice was deep and raspy and thick with her people's accent when she spoke.

"He's part of the reason we're here, Tyla. Elian has done nothing but help us."

Tyla looked even more affronted than before, "He has done so much more than help us."

The Dalish - Elian , Dorian repeated the name in his head - held up his hands in a surrendering manner, "If you want me to leave, I will."

"Lea-"

"He stays," the warrior snapped. "I owe him my life, Tyla. We all do."

The warrior motioned towards where Dorian stood, and he jumped when he noticed Cole and the three children had at some point materialized next to him. Two cling to each of the spirit's hands, the third had her arms wrapped around his shoulders and was hanging down his back like a cloak, but Cole didn't seem to mind.

Tyla looked from Elian to the warrior and back, brown eyes filled with fire, "Fine."

She gave a whistle and her hart trotted into the clearing. Wasting no time, she swung herself into the saddle and motioned to Cole, "I can take one on my saddle."

Cassandra nodded, "One of the children can ride with me."

Dorian felt discomfort creep in as the others looked to him. He remembered how the little girl had screamed at the sight of him, whether because he was human or Tevinter, he didn't know. Would that change just because they now knew he was with the first of their clan?

As though noting his distress, Elian picked the girl off Cole's shoulders, muttering soothingly in what sounded like elvhen. The girl looked up at Dorian and nodded her head hesitantly. With little warning, the elf dropped her down on the saddle directly in front of Dorian.

"She'll be just fine with you now," Elian said, winking. "I let her know Tevinter Alti don't bite. Tell him your name, da'lan."

It was strange to listen to him speak. His accent was the strangest mix of Dalish and Tevene

The little girl looked up at him, wide blue eyes filled with uncertainty this time. Her face, like the other children, was bare. He wondered briefly if there was any significance to the tattoos. In all the times Tyla had prodded him about Tevinter, he had never had the chance to ask her about her own culture.

"Nehvevaral."

Maker, that sounded like a mouthful. It certainly was painfully Elvhen, and Dorian was certain he would butcher it.

"Lovely to make your acquaintance," he said instead, throwing on his most charming smile. "I am Dorian Pavus, of Minrathous."

She gave a little giggle, "You talk funny."

Dorian tried not to feel offended at that, as though he alone was had an accent. She was, after all, only a child. Raised surrounded only by people who spoke like her. It was strange, now that he thought of it, that the majority of Dalish he'd met shared an accent.

Dorian wanted to ask for a proper introduction from Elian, who seemed to not only know of him, but spoke with such a familiarity that he was certain they had known him personally. But he was interrupted before he could as Cassandra asked her own question.

"Shall we rendezvous with a scout? Retrieve more horses for your clansmen, Inquisitor?"

"I do not know how to ride your horses, shem, " the elven woman said. "My feet will do me just fine."

"I'm in the same bed as Rosal, I'm afraid," Elian chimed in. "No need for more horses, just as quickly to Skyhold as possible."

Cassandra exchanged a glance with Tyla, who simply nodded in agreement.

"Very well," was all the Seeker said before turning her horse around and heading forward.

"Are you certain you-"

The question died on Dorian's tongue as he turned to Elian, catching a glimpse as the elf scaled one of the trees and disappeared into the branches high above them. There was only the slightest flash of differently colored clothing as he leapt branch to branch after Cassandra.

A hand thumped his leg roughly and Dorian started a bit before looking down to see the elf woman, Rosal. Her golden eyes were alight with amusement as she spoke.

"He does that a lot. You get used to it."

She didn't give him time to respond as she set off in a jog after Cassandra and Tyla. Dorian looked to Cole as if the boy might give him answers to some unspoken questions.

"Elation and relief. The taste of elfroot on an empty stomach. We don't have to worry anymore . Surrounded by other, but less alone now," Cole announced. "There's so much color! The sound of flutes, drums, voices echoing into the stars. Deft fingers crafting baskets and blankets. Warm stew boiled over bonfires. There's sadness, but also...warmth in remembering. I think I'm going to like them."

And then he was gone, no doubt materializing closer towards the beginning of their little entourage. Nehvevaral gave a soft giggle again and looked up at Dorian.

"He's weird."

"Yes, well," he sighed, "Looks as though we both have some eccentricities to grow accustomed to."

And he took off after the others, wondering silently what the rest of the inner circle would think of their newest companions.