***Sorry to anyone who has tried to read this and found only jibberish. likes to give me sass. I have no idea why. If you would like this story can also be found on AO3 and Deviantart (which do not make it go all kittiwumpus (technical term)) Hopefully what I am going now will have fixed it and you can all finally read.***
Part 17
Moving Forward
Astlyr had no idea how long she sat on the cold stones of her balcony. She stared out at the mountains, tucked in shrouds of white and occasionally dotted with the distant pinpricks of green trees. She sat until she distantly heard a door open and close. Her mind didn't even bother to surmise it must have been her door until she felt a hand on her shoulder.
"Astlyr?"
The voice finally snapped her from wherever her mind had wandered. She looked up to see Dorian's concerned face. "Hello," was all she could think to say. Then a grin twitched her chapped lips. "They sent you to find me 'eh?"
"Not to find you," Dorian smiled the big, charming grin he used when he wanted to be at his most disarming. "They reasoned, what with Cole still a bit under the weather, that I was the person you were least likely to tear the limbs off of."
"I don't tear limbs," she muttered, but chuckled dryly none the less. "Too messy."
"Come on M'gel, you must be freezing out here." Dorian slid his hand under her arm, attempting to pull her to her feet. This gestured would have failed spectacularly if she had not been motivated to oblige him.
Astlyr realized for the first time that she was shivering. The points of her ears felt numb, as did her fingers and toes. She allowed Dorian to lead her back into her room and shut the balcony doors behind them. He guided her to her bed and sat her there before moving to the fireplace, which was empty and lifeless. He soon coaxed a warming blaze to life with his magic and turned back to his friend. "I see you've done some redecorating."
"Maker's balls," Astlyr groaned, taking in the mess she had made for the first time. "That ink isn't going to come out of the rug, is it?"
"I am afraid not," Dorian sighed, plopping down beside her on the bed. The gesture brought her memories of being shoulder to shoulder with Cole on that very spot, or sitting beside Cullen on the floor of his office. These thoughts finally grappled what was left of her wayward mind and anchored it firmly to earth.
"How is Cole doing?" she asked, urgency making her stand.
Dorian grabbed her wrist, urging her to sit back down. "He's alright. Varric and Cassandra are with him."
"I assume someone told you about Morrigan?" Astlyr did sit and Dorian gave her hand an encouraging squeeze before releasing it.
"They have, yes" the mage nodded, settling his hands in his lap and staring at them. Astlyr looked at them as well, idly admiring his immaculate fingernails. Hers always had dirt under them no matter what she did.
"Is Cole taking it alright? He's not blaming himself?" She pressed, still concerned.
"Strangely he is not," Dorian reassured her firmly. "Perhaps Varric and Cassandra are doing a good job of being there to calm him, but I suspect he is distracted from Morrigan by worrying over you."
"Oh Maker," Astlyr sighed, rubbing a hand over the back of her neck, feeling the tight muscle there. "Of course. Poor Cole, he could feel every moment of my little breakdown back there, and the others must have convinced him not to come rushing to my aid. That was wise of them. There are times when I just need to be alone with my thoughts." She thought of herself in that raw, animal state. Pure qunari. Would she have hurt Cole unintentionally if he had come to her then?
"Perhaps you needed to be alone with your thoughts, but not with your furniture," Dorian pointed out glibly. "It may never be the same." A frown creased his features and he reached for Astlyr's hand. He'd spotted her bloody knuckles.
He began gingerly pulling splinters from her bruised hand as she pressed on with her questions. "How long was I up here?"
"At least an hour and a half. Enough to worry us all, but we understood that you needed time." Dorian pulled out a particularly long shard of wood and grimaced, tossing it into the fire like a disgusting dead insect.
"And you're certain Cole is alright? He hasn't started flickering again?" she asked, hardly noticing the sting as Dorian worked on her hand.
"The last I heard he was as substantial as you or me. I'm certain he can sense that you're doing better now and that has done wonders to settle him."
"I suppose," Astlyr tried to send a few calming thoughts Cole's way, even if she was uncertain he could detect them. Perhaps the lack of pain they brought with them would be enough to indicate that she was alright. "How are my advisers doing?"
"Well-" Dorian smiled, having retrieved all the splinters from her knuckles. He generated a dollop of snow and lay it soothingly over her wound. Her blood, newly flowing again, dyed the snow pinkish. "Cullen stepped right in as though your vanishing into your room was all part of your plan for the day. You know that way he has."
Astlyr nodded, smiling fondly. Then her mind caught back up with her and she turned to face her friend, who was still gingerly holding her injured hand in his. "Oh, Dorian, I'm sorry about Titus."
He gave her a fleeting grin that tried, and failed, to hide the flicker of pain on his face, but he swiftly banished it. "It wasn't as though I we were planning the wedding. People seem to think that if you fancy the same gender you go from meeting to madly in love in seconds. He's a nice fellow, quaint I'd call him, but if he betrayed us maker help him, because he won't get any sympathy from me."
Astlyr turned her hand over, the slushy snow on her knuckles falling to the floor as she closed Dorian's hands into her hers. "You're a good man, Dorian Pavus. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
"I...I can honestly say no one has called me that before." Dorian dipped his head, blinking rapidly. "Damn fireplace is smoking," he said tightly. "Makes my eyes water." He tilted his chin back up, proud bearing returned, "Of course I'm a good man. I'm the best man. I mean, how could someone this stylish be anything but?" His voice became serious again, "I popped down to visit Titus. I must say Skyhold has some of the nicest dungeons I've seen in a while. He's in poor spirits, alas. Doesn't handle adversity well, poor lad."
"Well, you and I been through a lot more than most people have," Astlyr reminded her friend. "We've had special training at dealing with adversity, and I still had a breakdown and hid in my room."
"True," Dorian stood and found Astlyr's wash basin where it had fallen. He took her drying towel and ripped a neat strip before returning to her and holding out his hands. She set her injured hand into his. "But rest assured, M'gel, Skyhold is still very much in once piece. We've taken a moment to breath before the next crisis can erupt."
"Don't even joke about another crisis," Astlyr warned as Dorian bound her knuckles with the strip of cloth.
"Sorry," he shot her a sassy grin.
She bumped his shoulder lightly. He bumped back. It felt good to be sitting there, almost like two children. Best friends with no worries in the moment. If only the moment could last, but it melted away like the snow on the floor.
Astlyr stood, stretching her sore back and shoulders. "Thank you for coming to get me, Dorian," she said. "Now I had best get back to work. An inquisitor's job is never done."
"It never is," the man agreed. "But I'm here if you ever need a good venting session. Just please, let it be though talking, not hitting. Wouldn't want you to do to this handsome face what you did to your poor wardrobe."
Astlyr chuckled, patting his shoulder a bit too firmly, "you wanted to be my friend."
"Only because I was afraid if I didn't you would take me apart and rearrange my limbs. I like all my parts where they are, thank you."
Chuckling warmly the two friends left Astlyr's room. The main hall of Skyhold was quiet and almost deserted save a few peasants who had not yet found permanent housing in the fortress. They looked up as the qunari and mage passed, but made no fuss. People were starting to get used to her, Astlyr realized gratefully. Then she heard a familiar tread and turned to see Cullen walking up to her in his businesslike, hurried way.
"Are you alright?" he asked before she could open her mouth.
"She's just fine," Dorian reassured the templar before he bid the two farewell and strode off towards the main atrium. Astlyr suspected he intended to hide amongst his books and process all that had happened in his own way.
"I am just fine," Astlyr repeated the mage's words as Cullen's eyes gave her a searching once-over.
"You're hurt," he gestured to her hand.
"I got into a fight with my wardrobe," Astlyr touched the bandage on her knuckles, smiling. "I think I lost."
"Maker," Cullen said, though his lips twitched as though he wanted to smile as well.
"Dorian took care of me," she assured her friend. "He also told me you have been seeing to things while I was...having some time to myself."
"It wasn't any trouble," Cullen waved her words away with a hand. "You settled most everything before you retired to your rooms for a rest."
"That's what you told them?"
"Best I could do on short notice," he shrugged. "The sound of crashing furniture was a little harder to explain."
"I imagine you just gave everyone your stern commander look and they all stopped asking questions," Astlyr said.
"I have a look?"
"Of course you do. No one gets to be as high ranked as you are without a look. I have one too, but it makes people get out the pitchforks and torches so I don't use it very often."
Cullen laughed and Astlyr took a moment to revel in the sound. It had been such a long time since she had heard a true laugh from any of her people. The family dinner only the night before seemed an age ago. Emotion twanged in her chest. Cullen neatly changed the subject, unaware of her miserable thought. "Fen is anxious to speak to you."
"Is he now?" Astlyr raised an eyebrow. What could the elvish god have to say to her? If it was more bad news she was going to have to find somewhere to go on a killing spree. Maybe she could retire to the deep roads for a few days and murder as many darkspawn as she could get her blade into. "I need to check on Cole first. Then I'll see what Fen wants. Thank you again, Cullen," she put her hand on his shoulder.
"You're welcome...ma'am," he was suddenly very formal and looked uncomfortable as he turned with a stiff bow and carried on towards Josie's office. Astlyr shook her head fondly as she watched him go. For someone with so much confidence in his position as leader and in battle, some things seemed to get him so flustered. She managed to contain a chuckle as she went about her business, heading for the tavern where she hoped to find Cole.
She located him easily. He was upstairs in his usual spot. Cassandra was there, sitting on en empty barrel's end, reading aloud to him. He sat cross legged in the floor, listening. As soon as Astlyr reached the top of the stairs he turned to her and the largest smile she had yet seen from him stretched across his homely features. It vanished as quickly as it had appeared, but it left Astlyr with a rush of happiness. "I am so glad you're feeling better," Cole said, in the earnest way he had which made you believe him down to your core.
Cassandra set aside her book, also giving Astlyr a smile, though hers was less fleeting. "He was very concerned about you, but I assured him that you would be alright and that Dorian would soon have you back to yourself."
Cole looked a little sheepish, "Cassandra was right. Sometimes I still don't understand how people make themselves better. I don't like not helping, but I like that you are better now. -No more heat, burning up my blood. Anger I'm afraid I can't control. I am master of it and I scream its name to the mountains and it cools me."
Astlyr nodded, leaning against the railing. The two upper levels of the tavern were open in the middle so you could look down to the first floor. "I feel much better now. But what about you, Cole? You had me scared for a bit back there."
Cole hung head head, "Yes. I am sorry. I was...afraid. I though I wasn't helping and if I'm not helping what is the point of me? But then you came and reminded me. Strong hands that hold and carry. A friend wrap around me like armor. She holds me all together so the pieces can't fall away." He tilted his head up, pale eyes fixing on Astlyr's green. "Once I almost drowned, almost left, but I was alone then. No one could see me then. This time everyone could see me, and they wanted to see me more," he wrung his hands. Cassandra reached over and steadied them with her own.
"Of course, Cole," the scarred warrior woman said in the gentle voice Astlyr had heard her use with her wounded men. "You may have been alone before, but now you have all of us looking out for you. And needing your help," she added a bit hastily.
"I won't leave," Astlyr saw Cole give Cas's hands a reassuring squeeze. "I am sorry."
"Stop saying you're sorry," Cassandra scolded, though her tone was far from commanding.
"I'm-" the boy almost apologized for apologizing and both women laughed. Cole seemed confused for a moment, but then he smiled thinly, looking fondly from one to the other of them. "Fen'Harel wants to talk to you," Cole said suddenly.
"So I've been told," Astlyr said, rubbing her chin absentmindedly.
"He was worried about you too," the spirit boy reported, letting his hands fall from Cassandra's at last and taking his seat on the floor again. "He is also worried about...Her. He calls her Her. She's special, but he thinks she is going to make a mistake. He's worried...and he shuts me out with his old sorrow," Cole made a frustrated sound.
"It's alright. I'll go talk to him," Astlyr assured her friend.
"Do you want me to finish this chapter, Cole?" Cassandra asked, sitting back down on the barrel.
"Yes please," Cole said, eyes bright.
"Once Varric finishes his nap he will sit with you for a while," Cas said as she opened the book in her lap, carefully spreading the pages with her figertips.
Astlyr mouthed 'thank you' to her warrior friend as she moved on to check on Fen'Harel. It seemed that the inquisitor was forever sought in every corner of the fortress. If only she could go back to fixing privy roofs and exploring elven temples. Things like that were more in her wheelhouse.
"Astlyr," Fen'Harel looked up from the small desk he had been given which was already strewn with papers and books for study. The door to the next room was open and Astlyr saw Myfanwy inside, sitting on her bed, sketching. The elves lived in adjoining quarters. Fen'Harel had a bed of his own tucked against the wall beside a dresser. "Thank you for coming. I hope you are well," he said, shuffling a few papers into a semblance of tidiness.
"I am," Astlyr assured the elf as he began to bustle about, stacking books out of the way to make an open space on his desk. Astlyr looked around the small room the elf had been given. The furnishings were spartan. Outside in the hall two guards, one mage and one templar, were still stationed, though Astlyr was not certain how necessary they were. Myfanwy's room was the same as Fen's, though she had hung some of her pictures on the walls. The charcoal faces watched over her as she worked. The walls of Fen's room seemed empty indeed, especially when Astlyr thought of the lavish frescoes painted in Solas' old office.
"What did you want to talk to be about?" Astlyr questioned, watching the elf move about with interest.
"Ah. Here." he held up the paper he had clearly been hunting for. "After everything that happened I wanted to mark down what we saw on the wall in the temple. Before the attack." His voice turned briefly solemn.
"What we saw in the Fade you mean?" Astlyr clarified.
"Yes," Fen'Harel nodded, tilting the paper so she could see it as well. A crudely drawn map was scribbled there with some of Myfanwy's charcoal. "You see here, here and here. Foci locations."
"Like the orb of Destruction?" Astlyr questioned, planting her hands on her hips.
"Yes, and no. The orb was merely one foci for one god."
"The god of vengeance," Astlyr reminded him, her tone wary.
"Yes," Fen'Harel agreed, tilting his head like a dog who has just been caught trying to steal off the table. Astlyr could not help but envision his wolf form. Tail tucked in disgrace. The god pressed on, "I am aware that the mage, Morrigan, has fled and taken her elunvian with her."
"So it would seem," said Astlyr through gritted teeth, feeling her anger bubbling deep in her chest. Like magma deep under her surface.
"I believe that she is under the influence of Mythal. I am not certain what her plans are for the traveling mirror, but I know that Mythal intends to awaken the elvhen old gods, and I believe her power is once again sufficient to seek out their foci to do so."
"What would this mean for us? It is an elvish matter in the end, isn't it?" Astlyr questioned.
Fen'Harel sighed as though she was a bit thick, "It is elvish...until it is not. Elves make up a deal of this world's population. Many are imprisoned and enslaved. Many travel as nomadic Dalish, but they are very much a part of the world and will have a profound effect upon it. Especially if their faith is finally confirmed. If their gods walk amongst them again. You saw how the humans behaved at the mere notion that their goddess had chosen you as a herald."
Astlyr grimaced. "So you think this is dangerous, what Mythal is doing?"
"Very much so, yes," Fen sat down heavily, with a defeated sound.
"Didn't you intend on helping her with the resurrection plan?" Astlyr questioned, brows raised.
"In a way," Fen'Harel said, his voice quiet. "I wished to stall her for a time. To assess what The People had become. To see if it was indeed the right time to bring back their gods."
"And? I've heard you speak scathingly of the Dalish. What are you thoughts now?"
Fen'Harel winced. A flash of white teeth. "I have found, in my travels, The People to be much changed. I believe if their gods returned to them now it would be a grave mistake. Especially with the influence of Elgar'nan."
"So what do we do?" Astlyr questioned, willing her voice to remain steady.
"As I suggested, we should gather as many of the foci as possible. We must prevent Mythal from resurrecting the Old Gods."
"And we know where three foci are?" Astlyr leaned to look at the map which Fen'Harel had set on the desk as he slumped into his chair.
"Indeed."
"Well, this one is within a week's ride," she pointed. "And these two seem to be near enough to one another to gather them both in one trip. I say we get an expedition together and find those foci. We can decide what to do with them once we have them safely out of harm's way."
"I am truly sorry you must have a hand in this at all. I deeply wish that this could remain my affair alone." Fen'Harel said, and he was managing a very pathetic look. She might have believed it to be surrender, if not for the ever-present clever glint shining in his eyes. She half expected him to grin and show his fangs. Her mind cast back to Cole's words. 'He lies to you sometimes.' She watched the man on the chair for a few moments, wary. He seemed to sense her look, but said nothing. Another way he demonstrated his intelligence.
"Alright," Astlyr sighed. "My team is in no condition to move out immediately, but I will discuss this matter with my advisers and, as long as they do not laugh me off for being so easily taken in by you, we will set out to investigate these foci.
"Thank you, my friend."
She felt her steely resolve not to trust him melt fractionally. 'My friend'. Why was she such a sucker for those words? Solas had called her that, in that same voice, and he had kept a very large truth from her. But then, what could she have gained by knowing his identity at the time? Would she have demanded he used god powers he did not possess to help her win the day? Perhaps she would have tried harder to save the orb, but it might have just as easily found its way to Mythal's hands if she had. At least this way she had him here, to keep an eye on him. She glanced at Fen and this time he was watching her with a keen, intelligent gaze. "Is there anything more you can tell me about what happened to Cole? I know you' re holding back," she said, gambling that she was right.
Fen'Harel flinched. He stopped making eye contact, staring at his desk as though not seeing it. He was a million miles away. She hesitated, wanted to press the issue, but sensed he did intend to answer. He raised his eyes to her at last, an odd expression on his face. "I...I wish I could tell you more. I wish I was holding more back, but the truth I can tell you now is that I cannot recall. I have vague memories of ages past. A time before the gods slumbered. I can remember spirits," he sat forward, resting his elbows on the desk and his face into his hands. His voice was partially muffled as he continued. "In my time ages ago many spirits walked amongst us, and I know that sometimes they were able to change. I believe Cole has changed from what he once was when he 'haunted' the White Spire. He's more outwardly focused. Less frightened for himself, more concerned for everyone else."
"He was frightened for himself earlier," Astlyr pointed out, rubbing the back of her neck. A lingering habit she shared with Cullen. "He's been telling both of us he feels something happening to him. I wish I knew what."
"As do I," Fen'Harel raised his head from his hands and met her eyes. His held a cloudiness she couldn't place.
She sighed. If he was lying to her she didn't have the energy today to force honesty from him, if she even could. It was one thing to terrify a young templar who was obviously already frightened of her. Quite another to intimidate a god. "I will see you later, Fen'Harel," Astlyr said, giving him a nod, which he returned before moving back to open a few books and fetch out some clean paper for writing.
"I thank you, Astlyr," the elf said, head already bowed over his work.
Astlyr turned to go, but as she did she caught sight of Myfanwy, sketching quietly in the next room. Astlyr moved to the doorway and gently wrapped her uninjured knuckles on the door frame. "May I come in?"
The elvish woman looked up from her work. Her dark curls had been hiding her face, but fell away as she lifted her head to greet the inquisitor. "Certainly," Myfanwy said, gesturing that Astlyr should enter.
Astlyr considered on of the two chairs beside the table, then thought better of it. Elf sized furniture seldom held up under a qunari backside. Instead she moved about the room, appreciating all of the art. Myfanwy had a firm hand. Each line and sweep of the charcoal was sure and controlled. Mistakes were embraced as part of the picture. Astlyr, having no artistic talent aside from scribbling the odd map, was sufficiently impressed. "There are a lot of drawings of Daveth," she mused. She knew the young man in the pictures was Myfanwy's brother, not Fen'Harel because she could see that he still wore the facial tattoos that matched his sister's. Myfanwy had an excellent grasp of motion, and Daveth was in action in almost every drawing. She saw him climbing and jumping out of trees. Him running or leaping into a shallow stream. Always with an open, happy expression. "What was he like?" Astlyr asked in a quite voice. She wasn't eager for Fen'Harel to overhear from the next room.
Myfanwy looked up, a startled expression on her face. Astlyr thought she must have made a mistake saying 'was'. Perhaps the elvish woman still held out hope that her brother was somehow still there. Perhaps buried under Fen'Harel's stronger consciousness. They had no proof to the contrary, Astlyr mused. Myfanwy blinked a few times, letting her own eyes flow warmly over her drawings. "He was..." she paused, as though unable to find the right words.
"We don't have to talk about this."
"No," Myfanwy said, hastily. "I want to. You're...you're the first one to ask me."
"Fen didn't ask you?"
"I think he's afraid to, because he thinks he stole Daveth's body. It was freely given. It was all my brother ever wanted. To aid his god."
Astlyr moved to sit on the foot of the bed, a respectful distance from the elf, who leaned against the headboard, legs tucked up with drawing pad balanced on her knees. "Alright. What was he like?"
"Daveth was..." Myfanwy cast her eyes skyward, as though the stone above might give her some remembrance. Astlyr wondered if she missed the open sky, having lived in the wilderness most of her life, avoiding civilization. Myfanwy never complained. Astlyr had a good deal of admiration for that. She waited for the elvish woman to continue. "Daveth was a free spirit. I'm the elder of the two of us. I always had to be the serious one. Making sure we survived, all our day to day business, especially after our mother and father died. Living outside the clan was hard, but Daveth kept our spirits up. He was forever finding things to play at. He could make a game of anything. Finding firewood suddenly became a challenge to only walk across fallen logs without touching the ground. Foraging for dinner became a test to identify and name every plant we saw."
"He sounds like a great brother," Astlyr said, smiling. Growing up she had often found herself longing for a sibling. Her childhood had sometimes been a lonely one. There had been no children around for her to play with either. The nearest village had been miles away and they seldom visited it. When they did have to go into town the human children there were afraid of her. "I always wished I had a brother or sister to keep me company," she admitted.
"Of course he wasn't always fun and play. He took his studies very seriously, if nothing else. When he couldn't get a spell right he would get so angry with himself. He wanted to become stronger to please Fen'Harel, but his true skill had always been with healing. His earth abilities were secondary. He trained them daily, but he was often left frustrated."
"Did you like the idea of Daveth giving his life to Fen'Harel?" Astlyr questioned, knowing she was treading into very personal territory. Perhaps her sleep deprived mind was too muddled to censor herself properly.
Myfanwy didn't seem to mind. Perhaps she was pleased that someone was finally taking an interest in her. Astlyr wondered if the elvish woman felt lost in her own life. Once such an important part of Daveth's life, not merely a tag-along. Astlyr shook the thoughts from her head as Myfanwy spoke again, her hand moving compulsively to sketch as she did so. "I had always thought I was excited as Daveth was. I knew my role. I was helping my brother and most importantly, helping my god. I was needed, necessary to the process. I knew I would miss him, but I suppose part of me hoped that...well that more of him would remain," he chewed her lip, eyes downcast to her paper, thick, dark lashes obscuring them. "I see flashes sometimes. In the way he smiles, or moves. Little hints of Daveth. I see it most when he uses magic."
"Does it make it better or worse to see those glimpses of your brother?" asked Astlyr, watching the charcoal move over the top of Myfanwy's paper. It was oddly fascinating.
Myfanwy gave a pained smile, "Both. At times I feel so happy to see a part of Daveth show though. Other times it makes me remember that my brother is gone and a stranger is wearing his face. I'm sorry," she corrected herself hurriedly, "My Lord Fen'Harel is not a stranger. Not truly. I mean, I never knew him personally, but my family always honored him. Always told the old tales the way they were meant to be told."
"The way they were meant to be told?" Astlyr asked, intrigued.
Myfanwy nodded, "most stories paint Fen'Harel as the Dread Wolf. The pragmatic trickster who may come to help you, but more often to hurt you. He's an omen of trouble to them. Of evil. My family told tales of a kind, but lonely wolf. No pack to call his own he traveled the land, sometimes helping, often teaching. He wanted the best for his people, and he loved children."
Astlyr's mind cast back to the mural of the wolf god she had seen in the temple below Skyhold. How Fen'Harel had been surrounded by youngsters. She had thought them a metaphor for his people. Perhaps that he loved them like his children. It seemed instead that the picture might be literal. "How do you find the real Fen'Harel to be?" Astlyr questioned.
Myfanwy seemed to consider this for a long moment. "Sad. He has a low opinion of the Dalish, and it is not merely because they view him in such a negative light. He says that they are so far from what they once were, but he does not feel that they have gone in the right direction. He fears what they could become with a mere nudge in the wrong direction. He had hoped to awaken to find them changed for the better. Instead he merely found them changed."
"He seems to confide in your a great deal," Astlyr raised her eyebrows.
"He has little choice," Myfanwy chuckled. "I am always near him."
"You don't have to be," Astlyr said, feeling a deep sense of trust for the elf come over her. Perhaps it was misguided and encouraging Myfnwy would only lead to another attack like the tower, yet she felt compelled to continue. "If you like, you can leave the guards with him and walk about Skyhold on your own. All of my inner circle have come to know you after we all recovered together in the infirmary. I am certain they would enjoy your company."
Myfanwy looked pleased, "I would like that," she said, then blushed as though suddenly ashamed. "Not that I am unhappy here. The room is very...nice and Fen'Harel is excellent company. I speak to the guards who come to watch over us."
"Are you always so...formal?" Astlyr had been going to say 'uptight', but thought better of it in time.
"Yes," Myfanwy said, but she was smiling. Her smile made her eyes shine like river stones in a clear stream. Bright and intelligent. There was much about Myfanwy that was guarded, but her smile was honest and Astlyr liked it at once. "Here," the elf picked up the paper she had been sketching on. There was a picture of Astlyr, her face contemplative. It was strange to see herself as someone else saw her. To her surprise, even with the horns standing out as they always did, Myfanwy had not captured an ounce of malice or aggression. Instead, Astlyr recognized a restful, listening expression on her own features. Myfanwy handed over the drawing. "You may keep it."
Astlyr took the gift. "Thank you, Myfanwy. And don't forget that you have my permission to explore Skyhold a bit. Just stay out of the darker corners."
"Right," the elf said, and her tone was serious. Then Astlyr realized it was a mock severity. This made the qunari wonder how often Myfanwy was truly dower, and how often her subtle mood went right over the heads of her fellows. Ah well, it would be better to ponder these things after she'd had a good rest. She certainly had a great deal to think about over the coming days.
******** Hooray for kind Tevinter mages and happy spirit boys! Things aren't so bad when you have lots of friends to pick you back up when everything goes wrong!
Soon we'll be out of Skyhold and adventuring again. Sorry it took so long! I keep throwing more and more irons into the fire. Eventually it is going to be more iron than fire! But we're getting there, slowly and surely! Eventually all the knots will be untangled...we hope. And hey, at least you got to know Myfanwy a little better. Poor neglected OC!
Has anyone played the new DLC yet? I can't because I am one of those filthy Xbox 360 users. (I'm poor! If only fanfic could make me money!) I have watched the beginning of an LP and it looks as though the information gathered in this particular DLC will have no bearing on this story. I am a little concerned because I had hoped to have this lengthy tale finished before Bioware could come out with something to show you all how wrong wrong wrong my version is. If they do, I hope you'll all keep reading, if for no other reason than to see Astlyr and Cullen FINALLY hook up. It's coming, I swear!
As always, comment if you can! Comment let me know you're reading and enjoying my rambles, plus make me feel all fuzzy and loved! (Cole would want you to comment!)
Next chapter: 4/02/15