Chapter Two: Cobwebs in Her Lungs

"And you honestly expect them to listen to me?" Torrin asked in disbelief, the tip of one pointed ear twitching. She stared at this stranger of a Chantry Mother standing serenely in front of her with eyes narrowed into suspicious slits. Torrin couldn't quite put what she was feeling into words, but there was something about this woman, about the way her smile didn't quite reach her otherwise warm eyes, that filled her mind with unease. It was strong enough that she couldn't tell herself with any honesty it was only due to her instincts against the shemlen church itself.

"It is only that the clerics are afraid," she replied smoothly. "But if you go to them, show them you are not a demon to be feared, you will find many will be amenable to helping. They have only heard frightful tales of you so far." It took Torrin longer than she would have liked to decipher the woman's words. The thick Orlesian accent was still too strange.

Torrin's wariness did not exit her posture. "You think that would work?"

"You needn't convince them all; you only need some of them to...doubt. Their power is their unified voice. At least, it is better than doing nothing, is it not?" She paused to make eye contact then, one corner of a wrinkled lip lifted into a wry smile. "I honestly do not know if you have been touched by fate, or sent to help us, but I hope. Hope is what we need now. The people will flock to your banner as they have to no other. You could build this Inquisition into a force that will deliver us, or, destroy us."

Torrin's eyes widened at the sudden intense pressure she felt- her pedestal rising up once again. It was then she realized why this woman made her uneasy- Torrin was the idol of all her hopes. She could have sworn her blood froze in her veins. How could she begin to respond to this woman? Torrin's fists clenched at her sides. One second she was imprisoned and hearing cries of 'knife-ear', the next she was faced with those like this woman, those who saw her as a savior, the one they could both idolize and blame if things went wrong.

I'm not your 'Herald.'

She looked away to glare at the ground. "I didn't want this," Torrin muttered, more to herself than anything.

The Mother laughed briefly then, a laugh devoid of humor and full of pity. "We seldom have any choice in our fate, I'm sad to say," she said gently. Torrin's face and ears burned- with rage, sadness, or shame, she didn't know. "I will go to Haven," Mother Giselle continued after a short silence. "I will inform Sister Leliana of those who would be amenable to a gathering."

Torrin did not answer her, she chose to wait until the soft sounds of Mother Giselle's robes faded into the comfortable sound of the slight breeze rustling through dry grass. She cursed under her breath, staring once more at the mark glowing in her palm.

When will they see that I'm just an elf?

Torrin turned sharply on her heel and jumped down the steps, full of sudden energy that she needed to be rid of. She did not want to rejoin her 'companions' just yet. She snorted. 'Companions.' She used that term as loosely as she could, of course, making an exception of Varric. At the thought of the rougish dwarf, the harsh lines around Torrin's eyebrows softened ever so gently. She wasn't sure what she would have done without him. Solas had not spoken a word to her since that day he sent her blood to boiling, not that she had done much to remedy that situation. She was merely returning his frosty-yet-begrudgingly respectful attitude with one of her own; it was starting to become as easy as breathing./p

Cassandra's brand of hostility was easier to deal with, as much as it still grated on her nerves. Cassandra, all scowls and mistrustful side glances, was still treating Torrin as if she were indeed a prisoner. Torrin sighed, feet slowing. She supposed she was, to some extent, given the Nightingale's subtle threat. But all this hostility buzzing in the air she was forced to breather made her jumpy. She didn't like being jumpy.

Thank the Creators for that dwarf. She mused, watching a raven take flight from its fence at her approach. Since Varric had approached her two days ago, Torrin had spent the majority of her time in his company. Drinking, gambling, listening to his tales; it calmed her, filled her with a pleasant, though fleeting, sense of normalcy. A normalcy that had thus far been absent everywhere else she went.

Torrin paused to lean against the fence the raven had relinquished and stare at a sky blissfully absent of the Breach. Help plan. She shook her head, eyes closing. Torrin still didn't know why that bunch of shems had called her into that war room. She hadn't 'helped' at all; the others had made up their mind on what needed to be done and all but ordered her to go and complete their plan. Well. They had gotten what they wanted; Mother Giselle would be joining them at Haven to do whatever else they had planned. She took a long, slow breath of air, relishing the feeling of it filling her lungs.

"Hello?" came a stuttering voice.

Torrin's body whipped off the fence, eyes landing on an elvhen man standing cautiously away, hands fidgeting with the front of his tunic. Torrin looked at his face twisted in worry and desperation. She raised a curious brow.

"Y-you're her aren't you?" he asked. "The one they're calling the Herald of Andraste?" Torrin did not answer and the man's eyes shifted away. "I- don't mean to bother you." Her face softened.

"It's alright lethallin," she said kindly, watching as he looked back up at her with the gentle tones of her voice. She waved him closer. "What is wrong?"

His mouth opened and no sound came. He coughed. "It's my wife, she's...ill. When the weather is foul, she can't catch her breath- like cobwebs in her lungs," he sounded close to tears. "Our son, Hendel, makes a potion, but he's run off to that cult in the hills. Could-could you get to him? Get that potion? He won't answer my letters, and I'm scared to leave her by herself." She watched as his hand wrung and twisted over and over. The man was at his wit's end. Torrin's heart lurched for him. "W-without that potion she'll die."

She reached behind her to pull the faded map Josephine had given her from her belt. She unrolled it with a snap, laying it on the fence. She pointed to it. "Do you know where this 'cult' is?" she asked with conviction. At the small look of surprise on his face, she continued still gentle, "I don't know where it is. Point it out to me; I'll get your son." She watched his face fill with what could only be called hope, the tears spilling down to his chin. He nodded mutely and bent over the map, she watched his eyes scan the surface for a few seconds.

"There," he said and pointed. Torrin studied the map closely, it would likely be half a day's journey, perhaps faster if she could...She shook her head when Cassandra's face intruded on her inner thoughts. No, the Seeker would not let her out of her sight. It was useless to get angry over it; anger would not get her to his son any faster and time was important. She quickly glanced at the sky. It was filling with orange; dusk would be soon. Torrin nodded quickly.

"I will leave now lethallin, and I will find him, I swear it," she said and placed a hand on his shoulder, attempting to reassure him. He hadn't asked for this blighted ishemlen/i war anymore than she had- she needed to help him, at least. That much she could do.

"Thank you, Herald," he whispered.

Her smile involuntarily did not reach her eyes. "It's Torrin," she said.

He hesitated. "Soris," he replied. "I'm Soris...Torrin." He rewarded her a small, shy smile. "Thank you."

Torrin applied light pressure to his shoulder, then turned to leave. She had to find the rest of them; she wanted to reach the cult before nightfall. She squinted at a figure off in the distance and hurried her pace once she recognized the gold chain nestled against a crimson tunic.

"Varric," she said. He turned around, raising an eyebrow when he looked to her face.

"Please don't tell me there's another hole in the sky," he said glibly. "Here I was just thinking how lucky I was to have one."

Torrin grinned. "Sorry to disappoint, but no," she said. Her grin faded slightly, more serious when she expressed why she needed him. "There is, however, a father, a son, and a dying wife. We need to stop the dying bit. Up for a little trek to the hills?"

"And pass up the chance for a compelling retelling of our benevolent Herald's heroic antics by yours truly?" he said dramatically, taking on the tone Torrin called the 'story-teller voice.' "Not a chance Stormy."

Torrin groaned. Varric made it hard for her to stay serious for too long. "You know you doing that doesn't help me," she pointed out. "At all. I want to stay as anonymous as possible."

Varric rolled his eyes, waving a hand and grinning. "Yeah, yeah," he said. "I'm what's keeping you from being 'anonymous.'"

Torrin shoved his shoulder, rolling her eyes in return. "Just go get the others would you, Master Dwarf?" she asked.

He scoffed. "Sure thing your Herald-ness," he said sighing, but Torrin noticed the sparkle of his eyes and knew all his annoyance was feigned. "Oh, but one more thing, since we're going out and all, do you think we could get these refugees some food?" He gestured a thumb over his shoulder. "Their hunter said he's scared to go off in the hills and hunt for food because of the mages and templars tearing shit up."

Torrin blinked, the muscles of her face going slack. How much war did these innocent people have to go through? She immediately felt a rush of empathy and knew what she had to do. "Yes," she said. "Let's do what we can." She sighed, thinking of the mess the Conclave had created. "This entire situation is turning into a steaming pile of nug-shit."

Varric snorted. "You don't have to tell me," he said. "I was dragged into this too." He shook his head briefly. "Stay here, I'll go find Seeker and Chuckles."

The dreams came back to Torrin that night while they were nestled in the hills, waiting for daybreak, for the first time since before the explosion at the Conclave. She hadn't been prepared, their absence for the past few days had settled her into a blissful complacency. That was now ripped away as her dream-mind began to realize where she was. She stood in a lone patch of dying grass in a sea of mud, the faded sounds of campfire chatter in the distance. She knew at once she was a passenger, only able to watch as the Fade gave her the memories she no longer wanted. She went still with icy apprehension when she saw the little girl, no more than eight, with shining yellow eyes skirting the edge of the forest.

"Niall!" called the girl, a hint of fear beginning to lace her voice. "Stop hiding! This isn't funny!" The girl's eyes squinted into the darkening tree line. Torrin burned with hate for all of it; what she knew she was about to witness.

"Da'len!" another voice called, stern and laced with age.

The little girl froze, turning slowly and frowning, lip pointed to a pout. The new figure came into view and Torrin felt her heart skip when she looked at his wrinkled face. She took in the rust colored marks of June lining him, the tree-bark hair turning into silver, the still-familiar strength of his shoulders.

Gods.

He reached the child. "Da'len, you should be in bed," he was scolding.

The girl stuck her chin out. "Papae! Niall is gone!" she said, young voice cracking. "We were asleep, I promise, but I woke up and she was gone! I thought she was hiding, but I- I can't find her. Where's Niall?" She looked at the ground, sniffing.

Torrin saw the hesitation, the thinning of lips and tightening of muscles that the child could not- did not. He bent to his knees to stare eye-level at the girl.

"She's not hiding da'len," he said. "She's not here, she had to leave."

Torrin looked away, powerless to intervene. She felt tears brimming unbidden, stinging her eyes. She couldn't watch this anymore. Her shoulders curved forward, caving inward with her chest.

That was when she heard it- the demon she knew was waiting for her tears. "Yes, Torrin," it hissed. She cringed at the sound of her name in its voice. "Nial is never coming back is she? She died that night." It chuckled the images of her family began to fade into blackness. Torrin was surrounded by shadows thick as mud, with nowhere to turn. "Poor Torrin. It's all your fault. You didn't wake when they took her away. You just could not find her, could you? And she died, alone."

Torrin scowled to the darkness, not giving the demon the satisfaction of answering and fighting the Fade-haze creeping in on her bones. She struggled, swimming through unconsciousness to find her physical body- to feel her muscles. The demon shrieked at her whenit realized what she was doing. She felt the Fade begin to ease away and she could just hear the sounds of the mountain breeze around the camp. When she finally snapped her real eyes open, the demon's shriek echoed around her. Torrin flung back the furs of her bedroll, immediately on her feet. The sudden chill did nothing to dry the sweat coating her arms. Not bothering with her tunic or her foot-wraps, she ran out of her tent into the open air, trying as she went to calm her breathing. The world was shrinking around her, stars dancing with her struggle to breathe normally.

Once she was far enough away to not be overheard, she collapsed onto the ground, hugging her knees to her chest. The Fade-dreams had never been easy. Ever since she lost Nial, they had plagued her mind. Torrin never told a soul- who would believe her? She wasn't a mage; only mages were plagued by the Fade and its demons. But regardless, she hadn't been prepared for that tonight. She looked up at the starry sky through blurry eyes.

Fenhedis.

Author Note: Whelp, back to working on this. Honestly, I enjoy writing this little story. Don't know if anyone is all that interested yet, but c'est la vie. I'm more writing this story for myself :3

Anywho, so here's a little suspenseful backstory for Torrin, more to be revealed later. I'm planning on this story being a long once, hence why it's moving a little slow.
Let me know what you think?

(But seriously, is anyone reading this?)