Personal log. Turdas 2nd, Evening Star, 40 Dragon

I finished settling in today, which also marks the first day I have had the time and peace of mind to do my diary since…Divines, was it before Kirkwall went tits up?

Regardless, I had barely packed away my last set of robes and vials, before Minerve, who happens to be one of the chief researchers here in Haven, came to my door. It should be said, my accommodations are…Well, I have lived more luxurious places when we fought the Blight, if only once or twice. I suppose I should count myself lucky to even have accommodation at this point. With the Conclave about to start, people are flocking here from all over Thedas.

Hell, I think I even saw a Qunari mage the other day, but at this point it might have been a hired guard as well as an actual participator. The mages and the Templars just don't trust each other – not that they ever really did, it seems – and the only thing that's bought me anonymity is the handy griffon on my tabard. Otherwise, I suspect I'd be locked up for sticking my tongue out at people here. Leliana said I haven't changed a bit. Cassandra said it's a wonder we ever accomplished anything back in the days, with the battle for Ferelden resting on the shoulders of people like me.

I said to her 'and now it rests on the shoulders of rebel mages, paranoid templars, and Dwarf-nappers' to which Varric laughed his ass off...Still can't stop looking at his chest. Not the hairs, mind you, but the fact that he walks bare-chested at all, while even enchanted clothing can't really keep out the cold.

Minerve asked me for advice on something the apothecary had brought up with her. I haven't been introduced to the man yet, but Minerve says he's a cranky-pot, which I assume means he's not the most social of people. Apparently, the man stumbled over – beats me how – a dead dwarf carrying the halfway finished recipe for the Qunari powder. It's Lyrium-free, which means they must have cracked the missing ingredient somehow. I'll start looking into it tomorrow.

Just learned that Kinloch Hold has representatives here as well…I wonder if Cíada will be there too…I bet Cullen hopes so…

Horrible, Horrible Homecoming

The first real clue that something was horribly, terrifyingly, horrifyingly, utterly and incomprehensibly wrong, would have been the plume of smoke visible even before the group had entered the village itself. The wind bore the smell of burnt wood with it as they neared and rounded the hills leading to the old, ruined windmill. A course that had at first been meant to be straight for the keep, was now instead set for the village proper.

When they were on their way down the steps, horses left with the two enchanters – no one spoke out against getting some distance to them - , when the group was within sight of the village center, that was when the horrible event became visible. The optimism Talia had been feeling since the surprisingly cozy watch with Leliana, the sense that all would be right, that there was a chance at normalcy in this messed up land, was killed.

The 'Crowned Cow', the inn located near the entrance to Redcliffe Village, had been reduced to a smoking ruin. What remained were a few support-beams still standing, blackened by fire and smoke. The central chimney had halfway collapsed, charred and burnt debris forming a pile around anything still standing. A few people were standing around the ruin, shoveling out wood-turned-coal, debris, rocks and what furniture hadn't been lost in the flames.

Talia kept her composure until she stood right before the ruin, then fell to her knees. The Breton grabbed her hair and yanked, tears welling up as she stared at the inn. Had she been able to speak, she still wouldn't have. She couldn't – there was nothing to be said.

"What happened here?" Alistair asked one of the villagers by the ruin. The man was dirty, most of it either smoke or coal-dust, wielding a shovel.

"Tavern-fight got out of hand, we think…" the man hesitated, looking at the group. Talia was still kneeling in the dirt, pawing pitifully at a piece of charred wood; "Wait, you're them- them Wardens, right?"

"Yes, we're back from Kinloch Hold with some help to fully…restore things in the castle." Alistair replied. He was not keen on telling the villagers that they had held a demon- Connor's demon – for more than a week while everyone who could stop the thing – had it gotten loose – were far away; "What do you mean, 'we think'? Who fought?"

"Dwarf named Dwyn, lived in one of the pier-huts – He ran inside the tavern, far's I've heard, looking like he was fleeing the Blight itself." The villager shoveled a fresh batch of debris from the ruin, onto a cart waiting with a donkey.

"…Well?"

"What?"

"Was he fleeing the Blight?" This was honestly a major concern. If the Blight had already come this far north from Ostagar, the crisis was far worse than anyone had anticipated. The villager paused, looked around and shrugged.

"Well, you didn't hear't from me, but folks say this massive Qunari was after him. Kicked the door in, beat the crap out'a the tavern-keep and started chasin' lil' Dwyn around." Alistair was doing his level best to process the man's words – his speech was even worse than Daveth's, Dear Maker – while keeping a straight face. Aedan was kneeling next to Talia, obviously confused as to why the girl had just collapsed in front of the ruin. She'd never even been there, had she?

"A…Qunari?" it was one part he had understood. It did not mean he understood it, however, because as far as he knew, they were more than just far from Par Vollen. Had the Qunari invaded while no one was looking?

"Right, one of them big guys, right?"

"….Yeah?" did he even dare try?

"Yeah, so now they've got'im locked up in the keep, right?" the man nodded to himself as he kept on shoveling, almost as if nothing held more importance. In a way, really, this was probably in some way true: the ruin needed to be cleared for a new tavern to be raised up; "You heading to the castle?"

"Right, yes." Alistair nodded in return, remembering what they'd journeyed to Kinloch and back for: Connor. If that meant there was a Qunari in the dungeons of Redcliffe – and wasn't that just crazy? – he'd just have to deal with it. For now, the priority was to return to the castle, release Connor, hopefully avoid Isolde and save Eamon. That'd be a good day. A better day would of course be if Duncan was still alive, but…but, that would probably just be making it too easy. Sort of.

He gave the man his thanks and turned back to his group. Daveth, J'zargo, Leliana, Morrigan and Jowan were still standing behind him, seemingly unsure of what to do with the scene. Beside him, Aedan and Brelyna were resting each a hand on Talia's shoulders. The girl was still on her knees, though no longer resting her hands in the dirt: now she knelt up, eyes staring at the ruin with little more than a scant of emotions.

"What…exactly is wrong with her?" he hazarded, looking first to Aedan, then to Brelyna when his friend had no answer to give. The grey-skinned elven girl looked at him, then glanced sympathetically at her downed friend with eyes a near-unsettling ruby.

"She never got to drink there." Brelyna replied, somewhat in a mutter. Alistair's eyes widened in surprise, looking between the still-smoking ruin and the Breton; "There's…nothing to be said, really."

Talia sighed, as if to press the point. Another minute was spent in relative silence, ignoring the villager shoveling debris. At that point, Talia slowly rose, dusted her leggings off, adjusted her robes and took the staff from her back. When she finally stood straight, she once more resembled the fiery woman Alistair knew his friend had fallen for. In a way, he could see why.

Only her eyes betrayed the sense of loss she felt.

They walked the last bit of way across the bridge leading to the portcullis of Redcliffe Keep itself. Talia didn't trust a horse of all creatures to carry her on a bridge, across such a divide. She'd much rather walk, which was seemingly an opinion shared by the rest of the party, bar Mabel and Nicholl who both seemed of the opinion that having horses, one might as well squeeze the utter dry.

The grief still sat in her system. Redcliffe's tavern had been burnt to the ground because of something or someone called a 'Qunari'. From what she could understand when J'zargo had asked the very same thing of Leliana, Qunari was actually a sort of human species that wasn't quite humans after all. They were closer to the beast folk, actually, what with the massive horns some were said to sprout in pairs from their heads. And they were big too, apparently, maybe even towering over the Orcs. They were said to be cold, indifferent and brutish – which was funny enough what many had once said about the Orcs as well, though that'd been mostly a product of racism than actual facts. Was the same true for the Qunari? Regardless of what's true or not…he burned down the tavern. Bastard.

And now this 'Qunari' person was in the dungeons of Redcliffe, maybe even wondering what had caused one of the cell doors to melt from its hinges. It would definitely make for a good scare if she went down there to say hello, point at the other cell before igniting her palms. A good lesson learned was that if you meet someone capable of burning your house down with a clap of her hands, stay on her good side.

It was, sort of, a rule Talia herself had made up.

When they entered the courtyard itself, it made for a very different sight than the last time the group had seen it. Soldiers, guards and archers were training and or marching around the large area. Several of them stopped to regard the newcomers, and a few even offered salutations, greetings and bows. Almost as if it had been a joke, the latter was offered by the archers patrolling the battlements or training at the ranges: they all seemed less disciplined than the regular soldiers, meaning they were most likely self-defense peasants who had taken a liking to the notion of military capability.

They recognized their saviors, was what Talia realized when she wordlessly handed Niko to the waiting stable-hands. The boy, a scrawny youth of barely more than ten, glanced between her and the horse, offered a revering bow with his neck and ran off with the comparatively massive piebald. Damn…kid's a midget compared to Niko…

It hardly reached her mind that she'd started referring to the horse by his name, something she hadn't usually done whenever her parents had – on the rarest of occasions – managed to convince her to sit on one back in High Rock. Then again, she had been younger back then, back the last time her mother had tried to get her on a horse. 'A true daughter of Evermor should not be known to fear horses, Sweetie' she'd said. Talia had tried one last time to ride, and had been thrown into a hedge for her trouble.

"Alistair." Teagan was in the courtyard as well, dressed more as a noble than the leader of makeshift soldiers he'd been when they'd last seen him. Dressed in a two-colored tunica of sorts as befitting a Bann, he wore a tight-neck green-red combination that seemed scarcely used, if at all. Trailing behind him was an assortment of knights in plate, one immediately drawing the attention of both herself and Aedan: Gilmore.

The redheaded warrior greeted them both with smiles, though he kept silent in face of Bann Teagan and Alistair exchanging greetings and stories, such as they were: it was mostly Teagan saying all was well – aside from a Qunari prisoner – then Alistair relaying what had happened during their trip. Teagan listened mostly with a still face, though his expression folded into an unsettled one when Alistair described the final fight with the Pride demon. Talia could practically feel as much as see how the Bann's eyes locked on her. It was, it would seem, back to being treated like a sick child.

"Bann Teagan, we have been informed of the…situation, with your nephew. I am Senior Enchanter Wynne of the Circle, and these are my esteemed colleagues, Enchanters Mabel and Nicholl." Wynne said. Talia knew both 'enchanters' were of the mind that Connor was going to be hauled back to Kinloch when they left. When Two-Sock had gone by their tent, he had heard them converse in low, hushed voices. At the time, his symbolic tinkle had seemed merely good-natured mocking, but when Talia had fallen asleep that night, when her Familiar had dissipated back into her soul, merged his memories with hers, she'd heard every word passed between those two; "I am sorry that we could not spare more of our numbers, but the crisis left us severely…thinned."

"I am grateful for any help you offer, Senior Enchanter." Teagan replied, his voice genuinely thankful. When he looked to the others, his eyes stayed a moment too long on Talia, then looked to Brelyna, who was trying to look like she wasn't examining Ser Gilmore from afar. The Breton sighed inwardly, wondering what entities had decided to grant her friend a crush on the least probable man she would ever be likely to encounter; "Serah Maryon, I am happy to inform you that the barrier you put up, despite the demon's many attempts, remains intact."

"W-what?" it was actually fairly hilarious to see the Dunmer's expression go from thoughtful to surprised, then to startled before shifting to a mask of embarrassment. If the latter was due to praise or that she'd been caught distracted, Talia didn't know; "I mean, thank you, Bann Teagan, that is good to know."

"Bann Teagan?" it was Aedan, this time. The young man was looking between Ser Gilmore and the Bann, impatient from the looks of it. To his credit, Aedan did seem to do his best at concealing it. Teagan looked at the youth and smiled knowingly, then looked to Ser Gilmore.

"Ser Gilmore, would you please escort young Lord Cousland to the Teyrna's chambers?" the redheaded knight smiled thinly, almost as if he'd missed more sleep than supposed to, and nodded. Aedan followed Gilmore inside, while Talia wanted to go with him, wanted to have confirmation that Howe's assassins hadn't gotten to her. It was not that she didn't trust Teagan's word but…She knew it was childish, but she wanted, needed to see for herself. Stop being a child. Grow up, will you? Gods dammit…

Two-Sock seemed to sense her distress, nuzzling her hand with his snout. Talia felt only a slight pang of surprise at his actions, having briefly forgotten she'd even summoned him. A small smile crept onto her lips as she knelt down to scratch him and run her palm around his head. The Familiar was shifting into a flowing brown-grey, his colors never ceasing to change like water. It was, sort of, even more eye-catching than his usual etherealness.

The group then followed Teagan as the Bann led then up the massive stairs, and into the throne-room. It was, for now, empty and devoid of anything but a few select guard.

"You seem better manned than when we left?" Leliana inquired with open curiosity in her voice as she swept her eyes around the room. Talia did the same, and realized that many of the guards, she recognized from when the villagers had been stacking the dead after the final attack. She reached the obvious conclusion, even as Teagan spoke;

"They're villagers, mostly." He admitted, nodding to a pair of mail-clad guards with spears at one of the doors; "After you left, we…I, saw it best to tell the villagers the truth of what had transpired, to a certain degree. When they were told of Connor's possession, I was honestly quite surprised at how many volunteered to guard him. They…still don't know that we also have the Lady Cousland here."

"Yeah, about that…I'm sort of thinking Howe might know she's here anyway…" Alistair sighed. That had been a detail he hadn't mentioned earlier, likely because Gilmore was there, and if the knight had known an assassin had tried killing one of his charges, the poor sod would probably have done like a Dwemer Sphere and gone to shambles. While Alistair retold the ambush, Talia remained silent, eyes forward as she looked for clues that things might not be as they seemed. Useless paranoia, she knew, but she couldn't help herself.

"I see. And this assassin, you're certain he singled out Aedan?"

"Quite hard to miss the 'Kill them, the Cousland dies here!' rant he yelled before attacking…" Alistair sighed, a bit of his witty tone coming back; "After that, we figured out he'd known where we'd be going, and thus where we came from."

"That Howe…" the Bann bristled, shaking his head. When he looked up, cold anger was in his eyes; "Ferelden stands on the brink of destruction, a civil war could start any moment now, and he is willing to throw it all to the wind, just to grab power?"

"He's a cunt, that's basically the easy conclusion, eh?" Daveth surmised from where he was looking at suits of armor they walked past. Whether he was studying them for pure interest, or if he was planning on nicking one, Talia couldn't say; "I mean, yeah, he's butchering a whole House, right? Then he goes on to send 'ssassins after the rest of'em, right? So, he's a cunt."

"You have such a way with words, Daveth, I'm awestruck…" Alistair deadpanned, though he relented almost immediately; "Though you are right: he's a cunt."

"'S what I'm saying."

"There's been news while you were gone, actually." Teagan said, sounding like it was something he'd only just remembered; "Aside from being made, or making himself Teyrn of Highever, Rendon Howe has also been appointed the Arl of Denerim."

"…What?!" Alistair looked utterly taken by surprise, which could be said about the entire group, actually. Talia stared at the Bann like he'd gone mad, but knew he hadn't. This is wrong, this is just so wrong! Arl of wherever he comes from, then Teyrn of Highever, and now the fucker is Arl of Denerim?!

"Who appointed him?" Wynne asked, her voice a few tones calmer, but still outraged. Talia supposed it was understandable that the old woman had a bone to pick with Howe, considering the likelihood that Uldred had lied about Loghain's promise seeming more and more realistic. Loghain would have little to gain by freeing the Chantry, Wynne had told as much as lectured on the ride from Kinloch. Still, neither option really made any sense whatsoever. What would either man have to gain from making the Tower rebel?

Talia was just vaguely aware of the irony in her thought-pattern. It didn't mean she missed it, just that she was momentarily beyond giving a shit. If Loghain really had been the one to promise everything Uldred had said, it was likely a simple play for upping his own forces. But if it was Howe behind it, not Loghain… she wasn't sure what it could mean, only that it was unlikely to be good.

"The Queen, if we're to believe the letters from Denerim." Teagan sighed, clenching his fists; "I've been called to the Capital to swear fealty to Loghain as the Regent. I'll see if I can find out more there."

"When?"

"I leave tomorrow, though truth be told I do not like it."

"Loghain or the whole mess?" Daveth asked.

"Both, though I trust Loghain more than Howe, so mostly it's the whole mess being difficult to see though…"

"You trust Loghain?" Alistair exclaimed more than merely asked, obviously taken by surprise at Teagan's words; "Teagan, have you completely forgotten what he did at Ostagar? How he is hunting down the Grey Wardens, blaming us for Cailan's death?"

Teagan stopped walking, exhaling a long-suffering sigh as he looked to Alistair. Both men had an air of weariness to them that Talia found unsuitable of both. Alistair she actually preferred a witty goof over this tired, disillusioned soldier. It was a rare glimpse of the man behind the mask: The man who could become king.

"I know what he did at Ostagar, Alistair." Teagan's tone was hard; "Do not presume that I've forgotten, I could have been there, as could Eamon, had he not been poisoned." At the Bann's words, Jowan shrank down in the rear of the group, trying to make himself unseen; "What I mean is that Loghain's vested interests lie with the strength of Ferelden. His entire life has been dedicated to it. It makes him somewhat more predictable than Howe, a man I have never personally met."

"Then why is he huntin' down the Wardens?" Daveth interrupted, his voice set in a rare tone of anger; "Why's he blaming us'n callin' us traitors?"

"I don't know. It has never been a secret that Loghain thinks less of your Order than Cailan did, but this manhunt makes little sense to me…" Teagan shook his head and resumed walking. A tense silence reigned until they reached the sealed door; "It will be something I need investigate when I go to Denerim. Now, however, our focus must be Connor."

"…Fine, then. How will we do this?" Alistair relented, looking between Teagan and Wynne; "I mean, do we knock him out or…"

"To free Connor from his possession, we will need to be as close to the boy as it is safe for us." Wynne explained, glancing to the door; "If he is beyond this door, this remains the closest location we can safely carry out the ritual."

"That means I can put this thing down?" Cíada made her presence known with a 'flump' as her backpack came to rest on the floor. Talia frowned slightly at the sight, worrying some of the blue vials could be damaged. She was of no mind to drink them, mainly because the Lyrium potions apparently were the source of replenishing the magical reserves of Thedas mages – meaning they were somehow connected to the Fade – but also because it wasn't going to have any positive effects on her. It was odd, in that way, to realize just how different she was from people like Wynne, Morrigan or Cíada, who was currently straightening her back with a mild groan; "Andraste's knickers, I'm spent."

"I thought you said something along the lines of 'magic?" Alistair mused, eliciting a scowl from the girl.

"…shut up." She muttered, looking at the floor, face gaining a healthy, rosy color.

"Wait, why isn't Isolde here?" Alistair changed the course of his questions, looking around; "Not that I mind her absence, but Connor is her son."

"Asleep." Teagan replied tiredly; "She refused to leave the door for almost a week straight, believing Connor needed her here. As a Bann, I couldn't actually order her to retire, and she refused to listen to simple reason…So I had her carried to bed when she lost consciousness half a day ago…"

"…Wow, huh?" Daveth asked with what could have been humor behind his words; "Didn't really take her for actually being the responsible one, but that's just…"

"We will conduct the ritual here, then." Wynne broke him off before the archer said something he'd be reprimanded on; "We should focus on sending just one person in. Who should it be?"

"If we are hunting a demon, would it not make the most sense that whomever we send in is incapable of possession?" Morrigan said, glancing pointedly at Talia, Brelyna and J'zargo. Wynne seemed like she was hesitant to agree with an obvious apostate, but resigned with a nod; "Then I suggest the Khajiit."

"Me?" J'zargo pointed at himself. It took Talia a few seconds to remember the conversations from their last stay at the castle. J'zargo was the most proficient user of lightning, which Talia herself had found the most useful type of magic against demons when she'd been forced into the Fade; "J'zargo would like to see this Fade for himself. After all, everyone else here seems to know it so well."

"Not me, thank Azura."

"If J'zargo is willing, and if we are confident a possession is not possible…I agree, J'zargo should be the one to enter the Fade." Wynne said. She frowned as if in deep thought, then looked to Teagan; "You are the boy's uncle, Bann Teagan. How do you find this solution?"

"Agreeable. If it frees my nephew, and in turn Eamon, I see no objections."

The scene that soon after took place in the hallway was one of surreal characteristics. J'zargo was on the floor, facing the ceiling while his eyes danced around, looking at the people preparing around him. Talia, Jowan and Brelyna, standing to the side, were watching as Wynne, Mabel, Nicholl and Cíada were working with Lyrium in a ritual neither College mage really understood. Aedan and Alistair stood to the side with Teagan, discussing what would and could happen when the Bann went to Denerim. Leliana, Morrigan and Daveth were off to the final corner, watching in silence.

"J'zargo feels funny."

"Please refrain from talking." Wynne said frowning in concentration. She knelt down by J'zargo's side, vial of Lyrium-potion in hand.

"J'zargo's fur feels like he's under water…" the cat muttered as his eyes went to Wynne; "Is J'zargo going under water?"

"He can't swim…" Brelyna whispered to Jowan, possibly trying to make the haggard youth smile. It only made his eyes widen a little in surprise.

"Please be silent." Mabel said, looking like she'd have preferred not to use the 'please' part.

J'zargo bristled at her, but turned his head and remained silent when Wynne bade him drink from the vial. He did, and instantly scowled with distaste, looking like he wanted nothing more than to spit it all out. It brought, to Talia, memories of being subjugated to the same thing back in the Tower, only here J'zargo was a volunteer.

As the Khajiit's eyes closed, and the Circle mages started waving their hands, causing blue flashes to appear in their midst, Talia felt the old pit of worry in her stomach. She knew Wynne wouldn't willingly risk lives for this – or, she hoped that was the case – but at the same time, the Fade was still such an unknown factor that she didn't feel in the least bit comfortable about this.

"Now…" Wynne said at last, taking down her hands; "We wait."

"…For how long?" Brelyna asked, worry for her friend obvious in her voice. Talia would have asked basically the same question, though with less hesitation, had she only been able to speak. Instead, they were all relegated to watching as J'zargo seemingly slept a perfectly normal sleep. The Breton had not seen neither her own nor Onmund's harrowing, and as such she had no clue what a regular Harrowing, or just what a Lyrium-induced sleep looked like from the outside.

"Until he wakes." Wynne's three words were so simple, so logical, yet they could just as well be J'zargo's death sentence. The Fade was a twisted place, yet already Talia wished she had gone there instead. At least then it'd be someone with just a modicum of experience.

And as such, the group remained in relative silence, with the mages remaining in their small circle, while Alistair stood at the ready, earning himself a burning glare from Talia. She didn't know exactly what had happened to Onmund, exactly how he'd been killed, but she'd been able to guess it was connected to not waking up again. As such, Alistair seemed willing to fulfill the same role as the Templars of the Circle.

If the worst came to pass, if J'zargo actually could and did become possessed by a demon somehow, and Alistair did what he seemed ready to do…Talia wasn't sure what she'd do to him, only that his life-expectancy would be severely shortened.

"Should I bring Isolde here?" Teagan asked when half an hour had passed by, devoid of any changes whatsoever. The question brought a frown to Talia's face, who'd preferred not to meet Isolde again at all. It would, in her eyes, be too soon if she never met the pompous, arrogant, selfish Arlessa again.

"I would wait until we know how the ritual went." Alistair replied tersely, his eyes focused on J'zargo's sleeping form. With regular intervals, the cat would purr, hiss, growl and even occasionally chuckle. The latter seemed to be what surprised the former Templar the most, as he kept his eyes, if not his sword, trained on the Khajiit mage; "Wynne, how long does this usually take?"

"Driving out the possessing demon is an exception to the solution to Possessions, not the rule, Alistair. This is only the second attempt I have ever been witness to, and the first…ended badly."

"J'zargo might be an arrogant and competitive ass most of the time, but he's not without abilities." Brelyna's choice of words brought one of Talia's eyebrows up, as did her general defense of her friend. Brelyna was standing with hunched shoulders, somewhere between cross arms and hugging herself. Concern was painted all over her dark complexion, ruby eyes glowing. The Breton blinked a few times, realizing that her friend seemed…aged, at this point. Had she noticed Alistair's actions like Talia had? "Give him time."

"We are, and we will." Wynne assured the Dunmer. Brelyna nodded, an almost imperceptible movement that Talia only noticed because her eyes hadn't left her friend yet; "Brelyna, may I ask…what symbols are these on the doorway? I assume this is your work?"

It was blatantly obvious that Wynne simply wanted Brelyna's attention taken off the current scene, though there also did seem to be genuine curiosity in the old Enchanter's voice. Neither Mabel nor Nicholl seemed to have even noticed the wards yet, and still paid little more than superficial attention to the symbols and markings when Wynne asked. Just as such, when Brelyna explained the nature of the runes and symbols, only Wynne seemed to immediately understand, whereas her two colleagues frowned.

"Not a single recognizable, holy rune, no lines drawn by Templars." Mabel noted dryly, causing Talia to frown at her disinterested tone; "How can this possibly have held in a demon?"

"It has." Brelyna stated, rightfully so defensive.

"Perhaps the demon simply did not try to break out?" Nicholl added, clearly not disagreeing with her colleague. Talia's frown turned to a scowl; "I see no symbols even remotely related to the Chantry…actually, I see no symbols I recognize whatsoever. Serah Maryon, it was my understanding that your first encounters with demons have been here in Ferelden, have they not?"

"…Yes, they have been." The Dunmer ground, squaring her jaw as a frown marred her lips; "But these incantations have held back Daedra on multiple occasions, and the Oblivion rune would have banished the demon-"

"-had it been from your Oblivion." Mabel broke her off. Talia's teeth were grinding at each other now, the enchanters' pride starting to seriously piss her off; "This, however, is a demon from the Fade. Do you not have a trained Templar in your group?"

"Would the two of you stop this senseless bickering?" Wynne stomped more than stepped in between the three mages, directing admonishing looks at her colleagues; "When I asked Serah Maryon of the details of her barrier, I was not intending for the two of you to see it as your chance at belittling her abilities."

"She is an unharrowed mage of undetermined abilities, not to mention she worships false gods. She-"

"She is a foreign dignitary of her people, an accomplished mage and a skilled enchanter." Alistair broke in, getting surprisingly close to Mabel's face; "Unless you would have been willing to risk the survival of Redcliffe on the hopes that a trainee Templar or an Apostate Witch could have better sealed this door, I'd suggest you go get some fresh air."

Talia blinked, her eyelids moving as rapidly as those of the idiot enchanters. Prideful mages had always been a problem at home as well- people who thought their stance in society, be it magical or political, bought them the right to toss insults left and right. It was sad that Ferelden seemed to share only the bad traits from back home. Still…Way to stand up for her, Princeling.

Having one of their own points - that Alistair should have sealed the door instead – thrown back in their faces by that very same point, seemed to at least unsettle the two women. Mabel turned first, walking out of sight with an indignant 'huff', followed shortly by Nicholl. Talia saluted them by grimacing, pulling the lower lid of her eyes down in a mocking expression at their backs, followed by a grin when they were finally out of sight. Let them take a long walk off a short pier: They've done what we needed them for.

"I…I apologize for my colleagues behavior, Brelyna." Wynne's voice was laced with shame, shaking her head; "I did not decide who should accompany us, but I was hoping the crisis would have changed their personalities somewhat…it would seem I was wrong."

"At least they didn't throw stones…" Brelyna muttered, somewhat downcast. Wynne blinked at the words;

"What?" the old woman seemed uncertain if she'd heard the Dunmer right. Brelyna quickly glanced up and forced the downtrodden expression off her face. Alistair muttered something about the whole situation being so sad it was silly, but no one but Talia seemed to hear.

"I said, 'they were only words.' I have been exposed to…that, before…" there was a short pause where Talia felt like even breathing loudly would be a transgression, and so held her breath; "You…asked about the Oblivion rune?"

"…Yes." Wynne seemed perplexed at the change, and took a second to process the question; "Yes, I was wondering if there is a possibility that there really is a connection between the Fade and the Oblivion. Could that be what made your barrier effective?"

"I…think so? I'm not sure, to be honest." The Dunmer's hair cascaded when she shook her head, like an obsidian waterfall. Talia had often remarked on its beauty, which had only served to make her friend all the more self-conscious. It was usually quite amusing, really; "I constructed it mainly for the purpose of resisting physical strength."

Talia sensed her part in this, had she actually had one, was over. There was nothing she could do now that mattered, and Brelyna could protect J'zargo as well as she could. Better, in fact, as the Dunmer's abilities with restoration were Talia's far superior. As such, the Breton moved quietly to stand next to Aedan, who was similarly silent as he looked upon the scene. Whatever conversation he'd had with Alistair' it had ceased when the Senior Warden – who was their senior Warden, but not a Senior Warden – had moved to interrupt the argument.

As words were currently beyond her, and Aedan simply stood, Talia stood beside him. She wasn't sure why she did it, what she wanted from it anymore. A version of her, unscarred by pains, torments, fights for life or death, would have tried manipulating him, seducing him. She could still remember Highever. She still remembered that night, what she had attempted that night, in his chambers. She pondered, thought, and watched in silence as J'zargo worked beyond the borders of his own mind.

It was sad and amusing both, how it took her friends being in danger, or putting themselves there, to realize just how important they were to her. There was a hint, a flash of the nightmare Daveth had suffered, quickly suppressed. It hadn't struck her, not really, until now, that her dreams had been calm, while Daveth had been the one fearing for the safety of them all. She still hadn't really spoken to him about it, not that she really could, as she was now. But was that just an excuse? Was she just making-

Her breath hitched and nearly stopped when a hand slid into hers. At first, she looked to see if Brelyna had suddenly moved from Wynne's side, but the Dunmer was still there, talking to the old mage. Heart beating, she slowly dared her eyes to her right. She stared at Aedan's shoulder, unable to go neither up nor down. It was some sort of irrational fear sitting in her, she wasn't sure what caused it. Not really.

Finally, she mentally forced her eyes to track down his left arm, down to where his hand emerged from the sleeve. Her eyes stopped when she saw his fingers tentatively holding onto hers, in an awkward position. She swallowed, and slid her own fingers into his. Aedan's hand tensed like it had been electrocuted, and grasped hers just a little tighter. She didn't breathe- couldn't for fear of ruining whatever moment had suddenly appeared between them. It was funny, in a weird way. This was almost nothing compared to what she'd done that night at the campfire, with her head in his lab, but…it was somehow more than that. Just holding his hand was more than that kind of intimacy.

Was it because this time, he had been the one to initiate it?

She didn't know how long they stood there, looking. She didn't know if anyone was looking at them, holding hands. She didn't even know how to stop. Didn't know if she could.

"…uh…" Aedan started, then trailed off in almost the same instant. This was one of those moments where Talia really wished she could talk. It was pretty difficult to reply to something that wasn't a 'yes' or a 'no' question without the ability to form words; "…I…wanted…"

"He's stirring." Brelyna's words caught whatever Aedan was going to say, and stomped on it. Talia stepped forward, mind now fully on her friend on the floor; "J'zargo, can you hear me?"

"…Shit." For three years Talia had known that damnable cat, and this was the first time she'd ever heard him swear. J'zargo's eyes blinked open, allowing him to look around with a groggy, disturbed and maybe slightly confused gaze; "This one…feels maybe a little sick…"

Wynne laid her hands on his shoulder, blue lights pulsating from her as she did so. J'zargo seemed to perk up with each glowing light. From being still, his tail slowly started moving around on its own again, like a sentient, mutated caterpillar from…whatever the Bosmer capital was called. Talia couldn't remember at the moment, and didn't really even care to try. She knelt down next to the cat along with Brelyna;

"What happened?"

It took J'zargo several blinks to clear his mind enough to recognize them, from the haze lifting from his eyes to go by. Then, he retched and gagged, spewing up a hairball. Brelyna shrank back, as did several others. Talia just laughed.

This was so surreal, so utterly, ridiculously weird, that she just couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't even a mere chuckle: she laughed, loud and no-doubt irritatingly inappropriate for the rest of the group to listen to. But she didn't care. she just stared at the hairball, lying there on the floor all slimy and…well, hairy, and laughed. J'zargo looked at her like she'd gone mad. Considering all the shit I've been through, it's a miracle I haven't…

"J'zargo was…He is not sure where he was…There was… lights, and…grey. Furniture floating through the air…" the Khajiit hesitated, paused as he looked at Teagan, of all people; "He met an old man there. He was shouting for the boy, Connor, yes? When I tried talking to him, he…thought J'zargo was one of these demons, and shunned him…"

"You saw Eamon in there?!" the Bann exclaimed, eyes wide and attentive; "Was he trapped?"

"J'zargo does not know, but he seemed…desperate. He could not seemingly navigate the strange ways that reigned in…there, but J'zargo could. There were…doors. Doors that opened for J'zargo inside twisted trees. J'zargo found the boy, found Connor." The Khajiit paused, looking at his paws like they were not his; "Like Eamon, the old man, Connor thought I was a demon, a…product of your Fade. This one had grown used to Skyrim, to the cold, but this…there was nothing. Not hot, not cold…just…nothing."

"That's the Fade for you." Cíada nodded; "Be glad you're not in the group susceptible for possessions."

"Yes, there was…a demon, I think. She…it, looked like a woman. A grey-skinned woman with horns. Naked, and…J'zargo did not like looking at her." The cat shuddered. Just a little, but noticeable; "Sh-it admitted to controlling the boy, to controlling Connor. It seemed angered that J'zargo was not available for possession, tried to force this one from the Fade…J'zargo killed it."

"So…Connor is free?" Teagan dared, visibly restraining himself from grabbing J'zargo by the shoulders. The cat blinked a few more times, looking at the Bann once again as if the man had his priorities completely wrong, then sighed- a rare thing for J'zargo indeed.

"This one does not know how it works, but…if the demon woman was what kept Connor-"

"M-mom? Dad? Uncle Teagan?" there was banging on the door, soft yet erratic enough to be from a panicked child. Every head in the group turned to look first at it, then the cat. Teagan visibly restrained himself again, this time from ripping open the door to Connor's room; "H-hello? Is anyone out there? Mom?!"

"The child is free, Bann Teagan." Wynne declared, a soft smile playing on her lips; "I would send someone for the Arlessa: I do not believe you should leave now."

For Talia, what followed was decidedly odd. Bann Teagan followed Wynne's orders and sent a guard to fetch Isolde, thought that in itself was not odd at all. What was odd, was how Isolde arrived. Teagan was already inside the room, kneeling on the floor in a fierce embrace of his nephew, while Connor was – like all children were wont to – crying. Isolde came around the corner, spared scarcely a look for anyone but the door, and stormed inside as well. A few seconds later, the guard arrived from that same direction, panting like he'd been running perimeter-duty. It only then hit Talia that Isolde had moved with a speed uncommon for women in dresses, and when she looked at Isolde inside the room, the Arlessa had actually – seemingly – ripped her own dress at some point.

Talia felt weird. Uncomfortable, because she was uncertain how to proceed from here. She'd settled the Arlessa into place inside her mind in the category of 'selfish, irresponsible bitch', but now all she saw was a mother so relieved she was bursting into tears. Gods, do I really need to reevaluate her as well? Dammit…

"So…does this mean Eamon's going to wake as well?" Alistair asked as minutes had passed with little change. Teagan was still hugging his nephew something fiercely. Damn though, I wish my uncle had treated me like that. Teagan treats Connor better than Father treated me…More love, in any case…The silence reigning in the corridor meant everyone eventually ended up looking to Jowan. The youth blinked, still visibly uncomfortable with being back in the castle.

"I…don't know. I think so, but…"

"The Arlessa will never let you near her husband." Wynne stated, summing up his anxious stutters.

"Which means it'll have to be someone else examining him, don't it?" Cíada mused, glancing at her mentor; "I just wish we could find a talented, experienced Healer, don't you Wynne?"

"Yes, your point is taken, young one." Wynne sighed. It was likely not the first time she'd been subjected to the elf's sense of humor, if it could be classified as such. Wynne looked to the still heaving guardsman; "Would you have the kindness to escort us to the Arl?"

"I'll take you there myself, Wynne." Teagan's voice suddenly came from behind them, and he walked past even as multiple heads turned to look at him, giving Talia a sore neck. The Bann looked to the guard; "Stay here with the Arlessa."

"This will not take too long, I believe…" Wynne told them. Talia somehow didn't doubt that, but instead that there would be a simple outcome to this: Mundus wasn't about to give her that; "Let us reconvene in the throne chamber in two hours. Brelyna, would you accompany me?"

"Me?"

"Yes, your healing abilities are remarkably different from mine." Wynne nodded, already walking so as to force the Dunmer girl to follow, robes flailing; "It could be they are more suitable for this endeavor."

"Ah…I understand. Right." It was curious, seeing Brelyna react to acceptance when for so long, the people of Ferelden had either dismissed her or outright assaulted her. It was nice, really, seeing her like this. It also earned Wynne some points in Talia's eyes that she so openly saw Brelyna for what she could do, not for her different appearance.

Isolde was left with Connor, something the Arlessa probably preferred over a large group of relative strangers breathing down her neck. Talia as well preferred it this way, as it meant far less interaction with the woman for her. After that, the group more or less dispersed across the castle, with Alistair heading for the Arl's chambers, while Leliana went for the Chantry. Daveth headed for the kitchens with J'zargo and Jowan, while Morrigan wandered off without telling where to.

Talia wanted fresh air, and so went for the upper levels, where there was an exit to the main battlements. Out here, in the humid cold that was central Ferelden, she saw archers patrol along the walls, reside in the square towers or simply stand around, allowing rumors to pass their ranks. Keeping her staff strapped on her back, she wandered along the battlements, taking in the view from such heights.

Calling it 'breathtaking' hardly did it any justice, in truth. From where she stood, Talia had the expanse of Lake Calenhad before her, Redcliffe Village itself little more than a bunch of hovels thrown onto the lakeshore with a spade. Forests grew to both sides of the massive lake, dense and black with pine. She'd noticed nothing but pines near Ostagar, and so far only the Hinterlands seemed warm enough to support oak and beech. Talia knew she was looking in the direction of Kinloch Hold, but whether it was a weak fog or simply the curve of Nirn, she could not see the massive tower. And good riddance if I never see that place again.

Still, the weather war clear, cold and frisky. Yet it was nothing compared to the biting, bone-shaking cold of Winterhold. Talia smiled to herself, enjoying the temperature. Growing up in the northeastern High Rock, Bretons from Evermor were well used to such weather. Taking in a deep breath, she focused her magical reserved on restorative energies, and started pouring the healing magic into her windpipe, throat and mouth. It was delicate work, and slow at that too. Still, it was the only way she'd regain her speech before she turned forty, which was not exactly fitting with her personal schedule.

She was acutely aware of her surroundings while releasing magicka into her own body, and as such, she noticed Aedan before she saw him, and well before he scrounged up the decisiveness to speak up. As such, she turned to regard him with open curiosity, just as he was about to clear his throat. The surprise it bought her had him coughing instead. Amusing. Definitely amusing.

"So…you're up h-here?" he started, obviously somewhat nervous given the way his voice broke.

She smiled at him, putting effort into making it as mild as she could. The smile she wanted to send him, more than anything, was one of seduction. But not now. Not yet.

"I mean…Dammit, here I had this whole thing planned…" it was really more of a weak chuckle than a statement, and Aedan rubbed his neck with some degree of clear awkwardness; "I…wanted to talk about what happened in the Fade, back…there, but…"

Talk. Yeah, there was a certain amount of humor in that sentence. Or, more like in that word. Talia smiled however, feeling warmth spreading from her stomach and up. It was that strange, nice, confusing feeling that made her feel weird inside. Aedan threw his hands out, a nervous grin spreading on his lips. Talia slid up and positioned herself on one of the crevalions within touching distance of him, legs dangling loosely on the inner side.

"I guess it's kind of a one-way conversation…Right."

He walked up and leant against the fortification next to hers. For a long couple of moments, neither made a sound. Aedan didn't seem to know how to speak, and she herself was content with making no sound but that of her breathing. This was awkward. But it was also nice. Sort of.

"So…"

"Mmmmm?"

"I…had intended to ask exactly what you meant, basically because I have no recollection of the dream before waking up in a bed. Whatsoever…" he released a puff of air, a sigh that condensed into vapors in the cold autumn air. The warm sun was the only reason neither was shivering, though every gust of wind still had the hairs standing on Talia's neck; "I mean, for a…man, I'm not really…I don't know how your…how girl-I mean women, how…what to say or…do….Sod, this isn't how I wanted to…"

"Hhn hn hnn hnn hnn hn…" she couldn't help it: Aedan's attempt at talking to her – talking, not even sweet-talking – was so painfully awkward that she couldn't help but laugh, and attempt to muffle it by clasping her mouth shut. If anything however, this just seemed to make him even more embarrassed.

"Right, kick a man when he's down, why don't you?" Aedan growled, but good-naturedly in that as well. He didn't seem downtrodden at the way he was failing spectacularly, even when purpose of what he wanted to say was clear as day. What he wants to say…'clear as day…Damn, I should have been a bard.

She even knew a few songs. Good ones too. Still, point of case as it was right now, was that this wasn't going anywhere. Aedan, sweet and genuine as he was, seemed more likely to suffer a stroke before he got to the point.

"You see…I…have probably been overthinking it, what you said in the Fade, and…"

In one fluid motion, Talia sauntered from her crevalion, stepped up close to Aedan – who seemed to be processing the scene with difficulty – grabbed him by his shoulders and brought her lips to his. There was, however idly, the irritation that she lacked a tongue. Lingering just a few seconds on his, Talia brought her lips back, beaming a small, however very much affectionate, smile at him. She could feel her cheeks rosen at the same, violent pace as Aedan's entire face.

"…Wow, I…I…" he stammered, looking like breathing came troubled to him. Talia, however, didn't move. She stayed there, only a few inches from his face, still feeling the imprint of his lips on hers. And smiled. Grinned, really, showing every recovered tooth at last. It was something of a joyful sensation, waking up with the feeling that every tooth was restored again. And Aedan seemed ready to faint; "D-did we just…I mean, did you just…"

She cocked a brow at him, teasing with her smile in a way that made his Adam's apple jump. It was really cute, actually.

Still, she knew how to play this particular game: had played it a great many times, even if this was probably the first time she had been emotionally invested in its result. Thus, allowing the same smile to linger on her lips, she gave him a smaller, lighter kiss on the cheeks, and left him there on the wall as she went back inside.

Remaining on the battements, Aedan slowly brought a gloveless finger up, touching first the lips, then his cheek, a reddening spreading on his entire expression. After a great many seconds had passed, he allowed the hand to fall down, and turned to look over the view while leaning his chest onto the crevalion.

"…Damn…" he muttered, but as he sighed in resignation, the crease spreading on his lips was that of a smile.

I suppose it's become pretty clear by now that I attempt a sort of merge between Redcliffe in Origins, and Redcliffe in Inquisition(Holy shit Redcliffe in Inquisition is GORGEOUS!). This is because as I see it, the reason for the new look is not better graphics (explain that one in-story, I dare you) but instead that, something happened in-between 30 and 40 dragon that saw to the marginally different appearance. Thinking somewhere along the lines of all-consuming fire, or flourishing trade allowing for a refurnishing, of sorts.

If there is a lesson I have learned from Inquisition - other than the fact that Chantry sisters love to ride the Iron Bull (I shit you not, they talk about it in Haven), it is that the magic in Origins VASTLY understated the awesomeness that is Thedasian magic. I am also aware that so far, this story has mainly been about how many advantages Tamrielan magic has over Thedasian magic. Well, I think I've found out a fairly decent balance. Time will show if it works.

So, here's the question of the day, or I guess it's really more of a consideration to help me flesh some mental stuff out for Talia's introspection.
Which version of enchantment is better? Thedas', or Tamriel's?