Her solitude didn't last long. Not five minutes after Redhead left, an apologetic sounding man swept in, poking and prodding every inch of her; after ascertaining that she had not bashed her head by 'her fall', he cleaned and bandaged her hand with the kind of linen strip that she only saw in movies. He even let her use a comb, saying that he'd always heard that people with long hair preferred to comb their hair when wet, 'as to avoid tangles and the like'.

"You're lucky you only sustained that cut," he said when he finished. Tala didn't bother correcting him. "The Inquisitor –"

But he stopped short.

"The Inquisitor? Is that the woman who just left?" If she was going to be stuck here until morning, she wasn't going to sit and twiddle her thumbs.

Her question was met with an incredulous snort.

"Oh, Maker, no!" he said, looking at her like she'd asked if water was wet.

"Then who is this Inquisitor person?"

He ducked his head slightly before he answered. "Pardon me, miss, but Sister Leliana said to only have necessary conversations with you. About your condition, and such."

Ah, that's probably Redhead's name.

She gave him her best work smile.

"Don't worry, I understand." There was never any use in antagonizing the ones taking orders, anyway.

"I'll just check your head again, and then I'll be off." He took his time; though he told her once again that she was perfectly fine, he was still looking at her with that incredulous expression – eyebrows furrowed and mouth slightly open, like he wanted to say more. Only he didn't.

"Thank you," she said finally, hoping he'd catch the hint. She'd always hated being gawked at.

Whatever force that ran the universe was merciful, because he understood at once and left with an awkward wave.

As soon as she was alone, she began to pace.

It would be pretty accurate to call herself a prisoner – that Sister Leliana had said as much. And since this was definitely not a dream, what with her still aching hand, she cast her mind around for any other explanations.

If this is a prank, it's not funny. In fact, I think I could legally beat whoever organized it into the ground and any jury on Earth would exonerate me.

There was an uncanny amount of effort put into this prank, though. What with the armor and the room and everyone on the same script. And the mountains. She couldn't fathom why anyone would pour in this much time and effort for a prank that didn't even make sense.

A kidnapping was definitely a possibility. At the very least, someone had managed to take her out of the apartment, and up into the mountains that everyone had heard of but her.

But Tala's gut instinct was that it wasn't right – the whole thing seemed off, and she wasn't sure why. It wasn't just the whole...scene. It was something else, something she couldn't quite place her finger on.

Looking out of the window, out onto that baffling, snowy landscape, Tala tried to figure out what it was.

I wonder how long it took them to get me here, she mused, tapping her finger on the window frame. Because I must've been out for hours – it looks like it's midday.

Before long, she became aware of her hair slowly soaking through the shirt that Leliana had given her; frowning, she reached back and twisted it up. This is why she always dried her hair immediately –

And then she realized how strange that was.

She had passed out while in the shower. That's why her hair was wet. But it was noon, hours since then, so why was it still like this? It wasn't like anyone would constantly be wetting her hair while she was being moved.

They all said I fell from a 'rift'. Maybe that rift thing was like…a teleportation, thing?

Tala almost burst out laughing at the very idea.

Too fanciful by half, idiot, she thought, you've been reading too much fiction.

Her mind was running on empty, clearly, if that was its destination, so she decided the best course of action was to flop back down onto the bed. Sister Leliana had told her to rest, and there wasn't much else to do anyway.

If this really is a kidnapping, I shouldn't be doing this. Tala was already yawning. Oh, well. I would hope that they have the decency to finish me off in my sleep.

The door to her room slash holding cell creaked something awful when it opened. And it sounded even worse when it closed.

"Hello."

It had been less than a day, but Tala was getting real tired of waking up to unfamiliar voices. Sitting up, she tried to summon another smile.

"Hi."

Her visitor was another woman, dressed in the same pseudo-medieval fashion that everyone else wore – gloves, tunic, strategic pieces of armor. Although her face looked a little younger than Leliana's, there were bags under her eyes that reminded Tala of her university days.

Still. She's very pretty. And a little less scary than Leliana. Is she here to interrogate me?

The woman smiled back at her, and leaned against the doorframe.

"My name is Eleanor. You made a bit of a stir last night," she said, clear eyes searching Tala's face. "We won't hurt you. But we use real names around here."

Tala felt like she was being verbally lead into a courtroom, and this Eleanor was to be her judge.

"How do I know you won't hurt me?"

Eleanor sighed. "Maybe it would've been better if you'd met Josephine first," she muttered, evidently to herself. Straightening herself, she opened the door and gestured for Tala to join her.

"Let's take a walk. One of the guards will give you a coat."

After a beat, Tala saw an arm pass something to the other woman.

Shrugging on the offered garment, Tala felt a little, tiny spark of relief at the thought of fresh air. Even if the guards were going to trail them – and they probably would – it would still be more freedom than she'd had in that room.

There was nothing that could have prepared Tala for the scene that greeted her as they both stepped outside. Below them was a courtyard, surrounded by stone walls that looked like they were held together by faith and goodwill – stone walls, Tala realized, that they were currently standing on. People below them milled around in dresses and robes and armor, and in the distance she could hear the clanging of what she assumed would be a blacksmith.

It was too real, too real to be a dream and too real to be one of those historical recreations that she'd seen on TV. That teleportation idea wasn't looking too ridiculous anymore.

"This…,"she stuttered, trying to control her breathing. What had that man called it? "This is Sky – thing? Skyhold?"

Eleanor was looking at her, concern tightening the corners of her mouth. Tala looked up at the sky, emptying her mind until her breathing slowed into something that could pass off as normal.

"Yes. You were found over there," she said, once she was certain that Tala wasn't about to pass out again. Tala's eyes followed to the line of Eleanor's gloved hand, and saw an innocent patch of ground. "More than a few dozen eyewitnesses swear that you fell out of a rift, one that immediately closed itself. You understand that that is highly unusual."

"I'm sorry," Tala said, resigned to being confused for the foreseeable future. "I'm afraid I don't understand. You're the second person that's talked about a rift, and I don't even know what that means."

Her admission was met with raised eyebrows. Even the guards that loitered behind them, the picture of personal disinterest, stared.

"Where did you say you were from?"

I didn't, Tala thought. But nice try.

"Where I'm from, we don't have these…rifts. At least not in the sky, which is what I'm guessing everyone means because they keep saying that I fell from one."

Eleanor let out a low whistle. "You have never even heard of any rifts? Then your homeland is lucky." Tilting her head, she continued. "You are not Fereldan."

"No."

"Or Orlesian."

"No."

"Or from the Free Marches. Unless you are – are you Parladian?" Tala thought she could hear a note of excitement in her voice.

"Um…no. I'm Asian." She thought it best to end with the speculation, since all the guesses were nationalities she'd never even heard before.

A blank stare. Either she was, for some mysterious reason, pretending to not understand, or this woman had genuinely never heard of Asia, which was damn near impossible. Especially since it looked like a fair few of the people below had to have some roots there.

I cannot believe that all of the evidence points to teleportation.

Taking a deep breath, Tala decided to just go for it. To rip the bandaid off, so to speak.

"We're in the Frostback Mountains, I think, right?"

"Yes," Eleanor said.

"And the Frostback Mountains…"

"...border Ferelden and Orlais," Eleanor finished for her, reciting the line with the patience of a schoolmarm.

"And Ferelden and Orlais are…"

Countries? Hopefully fictional?

But Eleanor didn't finish her statement this time. Instead, she was staring at her with an intensity that Tala couldn't match; she lowered her gaze to the ground.

"You're not even Thedosian," Eleanor said, words coming out in a whisper. "This will be a longer conversation than I thought."

"Yes. I think so," Tala said, hoping against hope that it would be a productive one. Befuddlement had given way to an increasingly tight knot of panic in her chest; if she was right, and it was looking increasingly likely that she was, she was in deep shit.

"There are some people I think you should meet," Eleanor said in reply, placing her hand on Tala's shoulder. "But first, I need your name."

It went against all common sense, but with the revelations of the past ten minutes, it quite seem to apply anymore.

"I'm Tala."