AN: Oh my god I just don't know and ...yes. Originally I was going to do a fun what if the Jackal from my other story was actually the Inquisitor and Elan had lived and I still think I'd enjoy that but then I wanted a REALLY unsuitable inquisitor and this utterly insane thing popped up. And I'm Having fun with this.
()()()()()()()()
Din'ara watched in silence as clan Lavellan slept soundly in the pre-dawn hours. They had let her stay with them, on the outskirts for many years. She was not one of them, no markings climbed her face in the blood writing proper though a deep scar ran over her right eye from forehead to jaw and curved along her face it was a silvery hue natural of healing. She was a woman of certain years, as the Orleasian's liked to say. Beautiful but fully in the maturity of being a woman with her youth behind her, yet not aged or silvered anywhere save where her hair grew shock white naturally. She had come to Clan Lavellan nearly eight years ago, offering her skills as a healer, her silence made them wary but in time they had not minded that she followed.
She lived on the sidelines. Spoke little, did not hunt but would gather. Her hands were deft with weaving and her heal craft had earned her the name of 'Light Touch' or other such foolish terms. They did not enjoy calling her by her name. Well, it was a bit on the...morbid side.
Still it was what her mother had claimed her as. For all the good it did, her mother had been made tranquil whilst carrying her and it was no doubt part of what had warped Din'ara's magic. For it was only healcraft that came to her. Now, as if to make up for it what she could do rivaled several healers working in tandem but it was still frustrating. She could see and learn, and any tome the Keeper or her first would actually let her at she would commit to memory. Yet no matter how much she could have explained working with fire or the earth, only healing would flow from her fingers. Her dreams were strange and scattered things where she delved too deeply into slumber and wandered a bit too far. Sominari but not.
Thus the Keeper felt at ease approaching her to ask for their silent outsider to go spy on this 'conclave.'
The unspoken 'if you choose not to return to us after, we shall not fault you.' was heavy in the air for all they wanted her healing skills it always made them nervous. It was probably about time she left for another clan elsewhere anyways. She'd tried living in the cities but the crowds and the squalor was depressing.
"Thank you, Da'len." The hahren who had first found her years ago said as he passed over supplies to her, one by one she eased them into her pack. He'd awoken early just to help her, and it brought a smile to her lips. "For everything. For the healing, for your herbs, for the silent watches..I wish we'd brought joy to you."
The green eyes that met hers then were serious and he smiled, the many lines of his markings dividing up his face. It seemed fitting that one of Dirthamen's marked ones were seeing her off.
"There is still time.." He reached out to barely touch her cheeks with the pads of his fingers, offering to give her marks himself. "It would give you some protection. Some welcome with the other clans."
Din'ara just smiled at him and shook her face, but for a moment she turned her cheek into his touch. Using her actions instead of her rare words to show she would miss him and his company. He had become something of a beloved uncle figure to her and she found it a bittersweet knowledge that she would miss his company. Out of all the clan, it was just Hahren Vinta, who had been there for her.
"I will write." She spoke softly, her words rare, clipped, soft but worth the pain of speaking when she saw how his eyes lit up. The strain on her vocal cords was eased almost immediately but the discomfort was always there when she spoke.
"Please do, da'len." He offered no traditional words of parting for he did not wish to see her go.
Before the first rays of the sun began to dapple through the leaves, her form slipped into shadows and was gone.
()()()()()()()
The conclave was..loud. Busy. Noisy. Rank. Haven was overcome with visitors and soldiers teemed everywhere. The ever present chantry members were annoying with the constant droning and Din'ara longed for the silence of her peaceful days in the woods. Still, it was only for a short time and that was something she could spare. So she moved and with her hair properly dusted generously with ash and dirt from the area the white and black strands were hidden to a mousey splotched brown that was entirely dull and forgettable. Her attire was covered by a rough burlap tunic and over breeches that snagged annoyingly on her leggings but was tolerable. A few wraps of fur and a thicker bit of linen around her ankles and feet and hands and a clever bit of knotting her hair made her seem like any other elven servant with their hair in a serviceable bun.
She was boring. It served Din'ara well. She was an herbalist, a healer, a researcher not a rogue. But she knew how to play the part of a servant, to put her head down and flitter about. In changing chamber pots she endeared herself to the other servants who were too happy to have assistance with so many around that egos were clashing. It was always the servants who suffered. One got her a better uniform and with a promised two meals a day -a feast for the serving class who were lucky if they had a tolerable single one- to help with a particularly irritating group of representatives from one of the templar's. Not an actual templar, no far more ranking servants were there..but somehow she still ended up polishing armor and helping to sharpen swords.
This she had learned years ago and was nimble of fingers. She was very good at mending as well, sometimes one needed to suture flesh and so working on such a skill was only to her benefit if her mana had ever run out. She didn't worry about the templars and such sensing her, if one did not actively cast or carry a staff no one truly looked at you and thought 'magic'. Besides, healing was a generally derided magical study anyways.
So she spent days in drudgery. Din'ara was sore and tired every night when she would go to sleep only a few hours before being awakened. Dark bread that was almost sour to help it keep longer than the fluffy lighter stuff the ranking humans ate was spread with cheese leftover from the previous evenings supper and any remaining fruit and meats. At least in the cold everything was keeping passably well and if you weren't ashamed to eat the scraps from the table, well shame had no place in such a location.
Her pointed ears caught numerous bits of information. No one paid attention to the servants and so Din'ara learned the names and leanings of different people. Personally, though she applauded this Divine Justina, there was no viable way she saw all this working out. The common folk feared magic almost more than the true demons, simply because of a mere chance that things could go wrong. It was much like the plight of her race, it would not change save for a few daring individuals until all of them rose up and demanded change.
It was however, a fine start. If one doomed to fail.
The final day of talks she'd taken a heavy tray laden with succulent juicy fruits to remove the need for goblets and pitchers for parched throats when she saw the slip of a boy nearly shaking under the weight. It weighed far less than all the canvas and harnesses for the aravel's and she'd usually assisted in the take down and setting up of them.
"I have it, da'len." She mumbled and the boy blinked at her before a huge smile spread across his freckled cheeks. "Go get your noon meal and rest. You can help Norma with the dishes for me instead. Just drying."
"Thanks!" And the boy was off before she could rescind her offer. Din'ara didn't blame him. Heaving the heavy ornate silver tray into a better hold she nudged open the door at the end of the hall. Really these massive doors and the huge hallways..and yet somehow always emptied.
"SOMEONE HELP ME!"
"...oh.." Din'ara couldn't slap her forehead but it didn't take long of looking around to see that somehow this was assuredly not the situation she had been walking into. There was a distinct lack of passive aggressive people standing around in frippery and flapping their hands faster than mouths. Because of course. The tell tale green of the fade in the area had somehow replaced the regular world and she'd just moved right into it. Ignoring the schematics instead she set the tray down on the nearest surface and pelted several apples and oranges at the nearest ones to her. The shock of being pelted with fruit did wonders for buying time. Then upending the rest of the fruit she took hold of the tray and smacked another on the head. It was big and heavy and reflective and worked just fine.
"Get the elf!" She heard screamed at some point and wanted to roll her eyes. Yes. Get the elf with the tray. So threatening.
The Divine ran to her after she sent a glowing ball flying and without a second thought Din'ara grabbed for it because one, the yelling massive weirdo wanted it and two, she could probably either throw it and have him play fetch or hit someone in the head with it.
The sudden searing pain and rush of power that wasn't hers?
Didn't expect that.
As things often did it all went down hill and at some point she was running with the woman, was told to warn them and a push to her shoulder sent her through the fade.
She landed with a heavy and ungraceful thud, still clutching the now badly dented tray and blinked at the circle of weapons in her direction.
Sighing she dropped the tray and just sat down. Humans and their drama...
()()()()()()()
Her consciousness came and went pretty regularly thanks to her new glowing green marking. At one point she was questioned by a red headed woman with the most aged eyes she'd ever seen on a young face. Though she had this strange feeling like something had tried to claw at her mind, Din'ara did have her memories and shared the utter ridiculousness of them with the 'Leliana' as she learned to call her.
It kind of felt like a victory when she made the woman snort from laughing at the answer of "I pelted the people there with fruit. And then I hit them with the tray. Don't suppose the tray is still around do you? Technically wouldn't it now be a relic having helped defend the Divine?"
Talking hurt. Din'ara was no fool though and as an elfin nobody, and still filthy so at least her features were obscured and her hair likely even more browned, talking was her safety line. So she dealt with the pain and the discomfort of the sensations as she forced out the words. The fact she had remembered that the Divine, glowing no less which was pretty amazing when you thought about the fact humans didn't just start lighting up like miniature stars, had helped her out of the rift with the words to warn them also likely saved her skin.
She had to repeat the story for a woman with more scowl than hair and a really old weird man. The same one that she took one look at and said "Oh, hello Chancellor. I'm sorry I didn't get your favorite robe mended..I've ah..been here."
Chancellor Roderick was the one who insisted after hearing the tale that she be let out. Obviously the Divine had sent her and they couldn't discount that whatever strangeness had happened had been from Divine Justina was the consensus. It was about the only thing they agreed on as Roderick wanted to find a new Divine immediately and the other two women were more interested in healing the gaping green sky hole.
"You are exceptionally fortunate that you have been so cooperative." Cassandra told her at one point. "You have never claimed anything save for dumb luck and the Divine's own work saved you."
Din'ara just gave Cassandra a nod. Sighing. "Can I stop talking now. Please."
"It troubles you?" Cassandra asked with a frown and Din'ara just nodded, rubbing at her throat. "One of the servants who has been bringing you food said you did not like to talk..and you have told the same tale many times. I did not realize it was because it caused you pain. Do you need a healer to look at it?"
Resigned to giving this explanation Din'ara shrugged. "Cord was round my throat when born."
Cassandra winced and nodded. "You are lucky it seems. Or terribly unlucky. To have lived then, to live now, and with that mark doubtlessly killing you.."
Din'ara listened to the ramblings even as someone brought back her clothing. Dalish gear the lot of it, the more sensible hunter's attire for winter as opposed to other garments. Gifts from her hahren when her older ones had worn out. Usually they garbed those with magics in keeper style robes but she had always preferred her skin covered, fewer bites and stings from things that way. Once fully garbed, and even given back her short knife collection -one for eating, another for gathering herbs, and a third for skinning game- Cassandra was leading her through Haven.
A mix of worried, hateful, and awe struck expressions followed them and Cassandra was only too happy to take up the slack of talking for her. "The word that Divine Justina saved you to deliver her message has been mostly well received. Of course a number of them are bitter she did not come herself, and Leliana has requested we keep secret exactly..how..you helped distract them. It's not precisely the stuff of popular tales you understand."
Any further teasing fell as she did upon the ice. Though to Cassandra's credit it seemed to take a great deal to even push the woman back. She was grace personified as she moved with blade and shield flashing brightly. No doubt ones that were polished regularly and by her own hand rather than a servant's. It didn't take long for the rift spawn to target Din'ara and while she had her knives there was certainly no point in using such utilitarian devices against someone as a weapon. A cursory glance of the nearby corpses, ignoring the barrel of fallen weapons because none of them suited her, revealed a mace with a hand guard.
Really, the use of the tray in the Fade hadn't entirely been anything but luck. In direct contrast to what one thought of when thinking 'elfin fighting' Din'ara had never been one for the flourishes and delicate movements. Twirling blades and striking arrows were no more her active preference than sending swords of any length to whistle through the air. What one did not expect was for you to get close, inside their guard, and hit them. Generally on the head but the throat, solarplexus, eyes..there were many options. Against humans it was highly effective and had no need to be lethal.
Din'ara may have had the macabre name but she really did prefer to not kill. For these demonic things though, she was entirely willing to make an exception. Living did appeal to her. Claws and arms were too long for most of the shade's to react when she stepped up near enough to hold her breath lest she breathe in the foul aroma that wafted from them and a good dual hit, to the neck, another to the shoulder, and a final twirled round to clock it heavily in the head and the Shade was down without a real attack. It was hard to attack so close to one's own torso after all.
When the last had been handled Cassandra looked over and nodded, pleased. "It seems your foray with the tray, though entirely unsuitable for retelling in time, was not so far from providence. Can you use a shield?"
"Small."
Cassandra managed to find her a buckler with still working straps that were tightened to help hold the shield in place she she needn't expend much strength carrying it as they hurried on. Din'ara was under no illusions as to her clumsy and crude preference for fighting, though it took courage and skill to be brawler and brute with finesse. She gave a crooked grin when Cassandra snorted softly, even as they saw the glowing green maw awaiting them and the figures fighting off others.
"You are anything but what I would think the Divine would have chosen to emerge.." it was said fondly though, and the two women charged down.
Before long the strange bald apostate had used her hand and the most uncomfortable sensation of drawing the rift closed as if it had been an errant thread in a garment she was weaving, and the talking started. All the talking. This time Din'ara stayed silent as the bald one prattled on, and then the dwarf who seemed quite happy to introduce himself.
Din'ara said nothing, just nodding to both. Though she truly wished to raise a brow when the scholarly elf dismissed her as 'your prisoner is clearly no mage..' one more layer of protection from those around her. She would not be adverse to remaining unnoticed. Much of the rest of his commentary was far more technically inclined and while she paid attention, she gave the appearance of being lost, looking from one to the other.
"He means he kept that mark from killing you while you slept.." The dwarf, Varric he had called himself, interjected and that truly made Din'ara uncomfortable. Who knew what was happening while she danced with consciousness and he apparently worked with the now light scrawled across her palm? Still, though it felt..unusual..it did not hurt. Something she would keep to herself even as she allowed concerns of an unattended male alone with her.
Cassandra likely caught on to her expression, she was a fellow woman after all and sneered. "For all the good it did, he kept trying to send the guards away."
"They were distracting me. Needlessly I may add." Solas all but pouted.
Din'ara just inclined her head, side stepping the request for her name that had been gently set out by Varric and Solas both in their ways. Were this breach to be closed she would be leaving Haven and it's residents behind and saw no reason to stand out in their minds yet further. To this point Din'ara had been cautiously not allowing any of the trio at her back, but as Cassandra turned to lead them on further the simple eventuality of that became clear. Also, either she hung around the two surprisingly talkative males..which while she could understand of the rogue who seemed to be curious about everything, it was in his profession after all, she could not from the other elf. She was utterly filthy, had yet to speak in their presence. Indeed she knew if anything she was coated now in more grime and sweat and likely several shades darker in hue with sweat keeping the dirt and ash in the air clung to flesh in an itchy combination. A silent sigh from her had the air whistling out between her teeth softly.
Glowing hand, it was such an inconvenience.
Cassandra looked back, and made a hand motion that sent Din'ara to rolling her gait faster and keeping stride with the much more heavily garbed woman. Her feet fell into the pace of one used to traveling long distances, indeed she'd never ridden the Halla, among the Clan it had always been Din'ara on foot as she could eat up the ground for miles at her easy lope. Clicking her tongue against her teeth a few times she tilted her head, meeting dark eyes with her own. The only feature she'd never been able to hide, her eyes were an eerie silver hue as she was well aware with a bleedover into green. Hetero-chroma that all but divided her eyes in half, the top silver, the bottom green. It was why as a 'servant' she'd always done her best to never make eye contact. Even now she looked at others through her lashes, angling her jaw in such a way as to help hide the impact of her unusual iris's.
Habits hard won.
Cassandra said nothing as they reached the next battle. This time she needed almost no prompting to close the rift, the pulsing of her palm slowly easing as she did so. It caused her to look at the mark curiously, but further examination would need to wait.
Like when she didn't have an audience.
"You are getting quite good at that." Solas said with a smile, as if she was one of the little da'len underfoot in camp. A hooded glance and a soft shrug was his answer. It was actually, rather entertaining how it pulled at his mouth into a frown. "Truly I suppose I shouldn't be surprised one of the dalish is so ...stand offish to the rest of the elves you encounter..."
Her answer was still silent as she gestured to her filthy face, streaked in sweat as it was but clearly bereft of any blood writing. Once she wiped it on her sleeve to even clarify her point. Her continued silence was grating on him and the dwarf but the shorter male piped up first.
"Naw she may dress like them, but probably from some poor sod that they just flung at her. Not a mark on her face, save that scar. Nice by the way. Little mouse? No that doesn't work...what's your name?"
Din'ara shook her head and moved as if to follow Cassandra.
"Oh come on, it can't hurt to tell us!"
The irony of his words pulled a snort from her and she pressed her fingers against her throat, to ease the strain and pressure.
"...D...in..ara."
"Dinara?"
It wasn't right but close enough and so she shrugged. Cassandra had finished finding a potion nearby and tucked it into her pouch as she approached. "What? Is your throat hurting again?"
"Need I look at an injury?"
Din'ara shook her head even as Varric piped up. "She just said her name was Dinara."
"Don't make her speak." Cassandra sneered at the dwarf, a glance at her and Din'ara gave Cassandra one of her rare smiles and shrugged. She didn't really care if they knew. Maybe they'd stop asking her to talk then. "We had her tell her story a few too many times and talking causes her pain."
"I..may I?" Solas reached over to her with his fingers already aglow. Wordlessly after searching his face she simply tilted her head back a little, allowing him access to her throat. It wasn't as if she hadn't been healed by others, her own warped mana never seemed to follow the flows others did and more than a few Keepers had said it was if she had none.
Gently his long fingers trailed along her exposed neck, the soft sensation of healing magic, very well mastered actually, gentling the inflamed voice box and vocal cords. The scar tissue of her throat that had been there since her earliest days always returning no matter what had happened. Her body simply thought it was how it should be. Still, the easing of it with his magic made her sigh in relief. Being touched was always a rarity too and she could shamelessly admit to it being pleasant, even if his fingers were cold from the atmosphere.
"That should help. A great deal of scarring..early trauma?" He was frowning as he withdrew his hand and after swallowing a few times to test that the pain was not there she responded. And startled at the sound of her own voice without the husky lilt of the scar tissue deepening her voice. She sounded so young..it was, peculiar.
"Yes. It always returns, but thank you."
"And she can talk!" Varric cheered before frowning. "What'd you do as a kid that hurt you so bad?"
"I was born with the cord wrapped tight round my neck and there was some damage when it was cut away poorly, I was lucky freeing me from it didn't kill me then. Or so I was told." She answered calmly as they started forward again.
"Not a good midwife then?" Cassandra asked and Din'ara looked at her, lips twitching.
"Why does everyone always find this topic so interesting?"
"It's unusual."
"No. No one was there that knew anything of healing arts and my mother did it. Her hands were, of course, shaking. It was a small cut, easily bandaged and within an hour someone was looking over me but the injuries were not detected for years. I was merely thought to be a silent child." Din'ara had no reaction as she told it though it was kind of amusing how perturbed the trio with her were.
She remembered her mother. Always distracted. It wouldn't have occurred to her at all that perhaps her child was too silent.
"So Dinara?"
"Din'ara." She corrected and didn't miss the flinch of Solas. She hummed her agreement. Reveling in her ability to do so.
"What is it chuckles?"
"That is..a most..unfortunate name.."
"As is yours."
"...point taken."
"What is it?" Varric needled and Din'ara frowned.
"Just because I can talk without pain, Master Tethras.." And she trailed off pointedly, speeding up as she saw Leliana and Roderick awaiting them.
()()()()()()
Solas did not know what to make of the strange woman. She was garbed as a Dalish but did not speak as one. When she finally spoke after he healed her and the amount of scar tissue was old but not old enough. Why had it come back if she had it healed before? She'd been..strange..to see in battle. There was not an ounce of wasted movement, it made her seem clumsy and lumbering but to one who had witnessed enough fights it was instead the prose to the poems of most warriors. Extreme proficiency and simplicity that bore out a ruthlessness of one who so heavily disliked fighting they learned to end a battle as swiftly as possible. Her coloration was impossible to make out under all the dirt and she was not being treated under suspicion. He'd heard the rumors of course, that supposedly the Divine had sent her.
The casual humility she moved with, the silence, was far louder to his aged eyes than anything. This woman held secrets and deflected them with an ease that came across as awkwardness. He knew that one all too well himself. His utter distaste for a warrior to be carrying his anchor, power that mages would have happily sacrificed family lines into slavery for, was hidden under his curiosity that she didn't really seem worried about having this new responsibility.
He did find himself very startled however, when the blustering sneering Chancellor seemed to smile a little upon spying their filthy little anchor wielder. That the man greeted her as anything than a hated prisoner, when her ears were certainly on display, seemed very out of character.
"Ah, settle this for us. I have conceded we need to have this disaster placed behind us, it would be unfair to subject a new Divine to it..but there are two approaches.."
Din'ara..and wasn't that truly a foul name to give a child? Looked at the map, then up at the imposing peak before she glanced from Roderick to Leliana. Despite his healing she was clearly so used to weighing her words that it had not changed her succinctness. Considering the inescapable prattling he was used to, preaching from the dalish and bleating from the city elves..it was not an unpleasant change. Especially as hers was from thought, not being cowed. Or so it had seemed.
"Men already sent out?" Din'ara finally asked and Leliana nodded.
"On the mountain pass."
"Reinforcements then." The woman's slim frame shrugged and clearly they would be taking the mountain pass. Again the Chancellor acted out of his slimy character and frowned at the she-elf.
"Do come back alive. I'd hate to send off for that robe.."
Oddly the remark brought a grin to Din'ara's face and she nodded before stepping forward. Unable to really do anything else so long as the breach remained, and she carried such an integral part of his powers in the literal palm of her hand, Solas followed.
()()()()()()
It was interesting how their morale seemed to flag because she did not care to speak. There was complaints over the cold, the rickety ladders, the dark. Din'ara bore them all with the same approach she had to most everything. It would pass as well, and so long as it was the only way to have this breach sealed and her hand cured, she would endure. Then none of this would matter as she slipped away from everything.
She let Cassandra do the talking when they met the scouts, and it was only as they passed the red lyrium and entered a location where the Fade all but battered her senses that she paused.
"Someone Help mE!"
"You were here! Indeed..as you said.." Cassandra whirled and Din'ara just slapped her own face, wincing. Yes. She knew what was coming next and it wasn't precisely her finest hour. Maybe. Actually ..she opened her eyes and grinned as the vision of her walking in with the tray looked around, swiftly processing that things were very much not right.
"Oh."
"Oh!? You have this..this...and you..no no no no.." Varric mumbled and Din'ara shrugged, grinning though as the image cut off.
"...Is that when.." Cassandra asked, and despite her best efforts the Seeker's shoulder's were shaking. She was being kind in not saying anything considering the audience and soldiers there but for the first time Din'ara gave her a full grin.
It was a sly and wicked thing she knew, a temptress's smile that Hahren Vinta had often said should have revealed fangs because it just didn't seem entirely sane when she grinned like that.
"...I made a scene? Yes." And Din'ara fought back the urge to cackle. Because truly? She'd challenge anyone to imagine she all but rescued the Divine by pelting her captor with fruit and a big silver tray.
"What information are we missing about all of this?" Solas finally asked after lecturing on the fade impression. Din'ara locked her eyes to his for the first time fully, and her grin was so infused with mischief her shoulder's were actually shaking.
"I caused a scene."
Cassandra seemed mortified that she snorted in laughter when hearing that. Din'ara felt rather proud.
()()()()()()()
A scene. The woman was maddening. She repeated her words, if she even spoke. Gave away nothing, and the smug cat with the cream, who had canary feathers in her mouth and a mouse caught between her paws had nothing on this child.
It was very likely if things kept up that Solas would be attempting to recover his anchor from her corpse considering the level of frustration she was causing.
Still he reminded himself he was not Eluvian here, he was not Fen'Harel, and so he slipped into humble apostate, directed on opening a rift to attempt to close the larger..and fought the urge to rub his temples.
Because of course, the woman did nothing she should have. She looked at her hand, then him, then around.
"What if I opened a few? Closed them, then reopened?"
"We would be overwhelemed." He felt his fingers spasm. No, he would not hit the idiot child.
"...Just for a bit."
"No."
Was he really having this argument?
()()()()()()()()
Din'ara blinked once. Slowly. Turned towards the massive breach.
Okay so the cranky Hahren was saying don't do the thing.
She was going to do the thing.
Screw being sensible. That wasn't her way when it was clearly a bad situation. Nodding to herself she took a deep breath and then ran at speeds most wouldn't match for the rift, opening and shutting them in tiny bursts along the way. The fluctuations did exactly what she thought. It was like lancing a wound, easing the pressure off and making it far easier to clean out. Not that they'd notice it now but it was evident to Din'ara something the size of the rift she needed to close, not the breach sadly, needed to be gentled before worked on. Otherwise who knew what would force it's way through? Maybe she just had a huge advantage since she knew how wounds worked and this breach really did seem more like an injury than anything else.
As it was there was a seeming flood of shades, rage demons, arcane horrors..nothing they hadn't all already beaten many a time. When one came to close she slammed it closer to another and disrupted their attacks, or straight into Cassandra's waiting weapons. The woman had chased after her, familiar with the way her fellow melee fighter ran right into the thick of things.
It did seem like as she inched the larger rift closed there was something big and angry on the other side but it couldn't force itself through the small opening and Din'ara took the time to stick out her tongue in it's direction, three angry eyes glaring back at her.
A final wrench of her hand, feeling like a cracked jug of water that had it all come pouring out of her as she fell to the ground and her eyes blurred.
Someone was scolding her. Someone else was laughing..there were people cheering.
"What was that?!" It was a cold furious voice. The sort she was used to hearing when she decided to do something stupid.
Din'ara couldn't focus on the apostate's face as her vision swam but she still grinned.
"Making do." Din'ara passed out before she could hear the lecture.