Meetings
Alastair
He's already annoyed when he meets the elf. At the mage, maybe at the Grand Cleric, he isn't too sure. He just knows that he is annoyed.
"You wouldn't happen to be a mage, would you?" he asks her, not sure what response he's expecting.
"The Keeper wouldn't send one of her own, shem," the elf replies, scorn in her voice, and his heart sinks. Another person annoyed at him. Though, by her address, perhaps she is more annoyed at his entire race. Which, admittedly, he isn't the best ambassador of.
He takes a closer look at her. She's Dalish, he thinks in surprise. A rare sight. Then…
"Wait, a second, I know you," he says, with dawning comprehension. "You're Duncan's new recruit, aren't you?"
She grunts, and he knows he's right.
"Beard-shem told everyone about me, did he?" she grumbles, and Alastair doesn't know whether to leap to Duncan's defence or laugh at the term. In every respect, she is right. Duncan is indeed a shem, and does have a beard.
She doesn't sound like she hates Duncan. Her tone is grudging, but whether out of respect or something else Alastair can't tell.
"I'm Alastair," he hastily adds, realising he's forgotten to introduce himself. "And you are?"
There is a very long moment of silence before she replies shortly, "Mahariel." So long that he feels she won't reply for a moment.
He shivers at the iciness radiating off her. Maybe she doesn't hate Duncan, but she does hate him.