Most days Lavellan feels as if he is walking on a tightrope like a performer at the circus, trying to balance between life and death. There are so many people depending on him for their survival the mere thought of it makes him dizzy. Perhaps that is why he has once again found himself here, up on the crumbling wall. The wind is whipping around his ears and on one side is the safety of the courtyard, but on the other is a fall of many feet. If he falls, his body will smash to pieces on the rocks below. So he holds his arms out for balance as he takes the first few steps onto the edge, balancing precariously just there, and he feels alive for the first time in months. This moment is his: no one else depending on him. Only himself dependant on him not loosing his footing. It's not quite a tightrope, but it will do.