Part 19

Poison Lies

At first Astlyr thought she must be hallucinating, but a few hard blinks were enough to reassure her that the creature striding towards her from the cave was not a threat. Rather it was a halla. What's more, it was a halla she knew. She might have said something to that effect had her voice not been stolen by another fit of coughing. She needed all her air to remain standing. Her brows came together as the deer-like creature approached, black nose outstretched to sniff her curiously. The animal's fur was an elegant golden color, like the coat of a palomino horse, but richer still, gleaming like precious metal. The halla seemed to be studying Astlyr, large cupped ears spread forward below long, curving horns like twisted tree branches.

Once, Astlyr and her people have been attempting to gain favor with the Dalish tribe that had camped on the Plains. The master of the halla had made a special request. At the time Astlyr wondered if the man had heard of her druffalo retrieving skills somehow. He had asked that a rare, gold colored halla be brought to the camp. The task had not been difficult, though the animal was flighty, Astlyr and her company managed to herd it into the camp, where it made itself at home as thought it had always belonged.

The halla sniffed Astlyr one more time, blowing steam from its nose in a snort. Then it turned and galloped away, tail flashing like a warning. Astlyr stood, still leaning against Smoke for a long moment. Well, that had been an interesting but wholly unhelpful encounter. Her mind thrashed about for a moment, like someone drowning trying to grasp at anything floating nearby. Passing out was feeling like a better and better idea, but she knew she had to get back to her people. Help them somehow. She turned to Smoke, her fingers fumbling with his saddle, trying to pull out the red flag so she could send him back to Skyhold. With luck someone would find them...but it was several days ride to the fortress. It would take Smoke time to get back, even if he ran hard, and longer still for Cullen and his men to reach her.

She fought through a wave of dizziness and took hold of the stirrup again, turning it and aiming carefully with her toes. She managed to plant her foot in the stirrup and reached for the saddle horn. These simple motions left her gasping and coughing. Smoke reached around with his muzzle, obviously trying to comfort her. His lip brushed her back, urging her to keep trying. Then his head snapped forward, ears pricked. Astlyr turned slowly, following his gaze. The golden halla was back. The majestic beast charged into the camp clearing, huffing great gouts of steamy air, making Astlyr jealous with its ability to breath. "Hello," Astlyr managed, her voice so hoarse she hardly recognized it.

The halla stepped forward and extended its muzzle again, but this time, rather than sniffing, it was holding something out to Astlyr. The qunari squinted, baffled. A branch? Part of a shrub perhaps. Dried leaves still clung in clumps from the scruffy twigs. It must have been the oxygen deprivation. Was this animal offering her a plant? Could it be possible that the halla were intelligent enough to fetch the very plant she needed? The mabari war hounds were said to be as smart as humans. Could it be that halla were the same?

"My...Myfan..." damn. Why did the elf's name have three fucking syllables, Astlyr wondered darkly as she took her foot from the stirrup and shuffled past the halla, who turned and followed her, still offering the shrub clamped in its teeth.

Astlyr reached Myfanwy and shook the elf's leg. To her intense relief Myfanwy's eyes opened, if fractionally. "Is this the plant?" Astlyr said with the biggest breath she could manage. He snatched the branch from the halla's mouth and held it under Myfanwy's nose.

The elvish woman blinked a few times, then coughed weakly, gasping in a few hard-fought breaths before her eyes opened wider. "Yes," she squeaked like one who had been suffering a long illness. "Where did you-? Never mind. Chew the leaves. Swallow the juice. Spit out the leaves." These directions seemed to have exhausted Myfanwy's powers of speech, but it was all Astlyr needed. She stripped a thin branch of its leaves and jammed them into her mouth, chewing frantically. The leaves were dried and brittle, but there was a surprising amount of juice still in them and it was enough.

Astlyr doubled over one last time. This time her wracking coughs brought up all of the blasted bile onto the snow, along with blood from her raw throat. She spat and stood, taking in the largest breath she could manage. She would have never guessed that the mere act of breathing would be such a welcome blessing. Her mind cleared quickly, though her head still ached. She hurried to strip more leaves from the twiggy shrub and held her hand up to Myfanwy's mouth without ceremony. She felt the elf's lips move against her palm as Myfanwy took the leaves and chewed. Then she leaned over the side of her horse and noisily rid herself of the hateful stuff that had been sitting in her lungs.

Astlyr turned to the watching halla and raised an eyebrow. She had many questions and precious few answers would come from an animal. She sighed, taking a moment to relish the fact that she could sigh, then he hurried back to Smoke, who nosed her happily when he saw that she was better. She rubbed his face fondly with the heel of her hand. "Thank you, boy," she said. She easily mounted and turned to look at Myfanwy who was staring at the golden halla. "Pretty isn't she?" Astlyr said, guiding Smoke over beside her elvish friend. "Come on, we had better get back to the others and fast," she tucked the branch the halla had given her into her saddlebag and squeezed Smoke's side firmly.

As the two women rode hard back up the stream, carelessly splashing through the icy water in their hurry, Astlyr glanced back to see that the halla was still with them. It kept pace, large eyes intent, like two dark moons on its golden face. "Are halla intelligent?" Astlyr called to Myfanwy, who was clinging to her saddle horn in an effort not to fall from her galloping mount.

"Yes," Myfanwy said, fumbling with the reins as Gossamer drew up beside Smoke. The larger horse's legs were longer and he ate up the turf with a great strides so poor Gossamer had to try quite hard to stay beside him. "A halla has no need of saddle or bridle. They can sometimes even sense their rider's thoughts and intentions, if they are a close pair."

"Yes, but, do they understand language or situations? Would a halla know to bring me the right herb if it could smell the Breath-bane on me?"

"What?" Myfanwy's brows came together in the way that made her tattoos appear to be closing jaws abound her face.

Astlyr took this as a 'no' and she shot another glance over her shoulder at the creature running behind them. It had certainly behaved like an ordinary beast when she and her friends had herded it to the Dalish months before.

Finally she could make out the boulder where Celwydd had stood, and her nose prickled as she smelled the lingering, oily odor of the Breath-bane still dissipating on the wind.

When Astlyr found her people an odd sight met her eyes. Cassandra, Dorian and Cole were sitting cross legged in a circle on the ground, their knees touching. Varric was leaning against Cassandra's back, obviously unconscious. Fen'Harel was laying in the snow nearby, also seemingly out cold. Cole's head shot up, his eyes locking on Astlyr the moment she came into view. The boy tried to rise, failed and toppled into Dorian, who clumsily caught him.

Astlyr dismounted so quickly that Smoke had not even come to a full stop. She used her arm around his thick neck to steady herself as she swung down, sending up a spray of snow. She jerked the shrub branch from her saddle pack and ran to her companions, stripping leaves in one motion as she slid to her knees to stop beside the odd formation her friends sat in. "Chew these, swallow the juice and spit out the leaves," she recited as she distributed a handful each of the dried leaves.

Soon Cas, Cole and Dorian were hacking up the last of the Breath-bane from their chests. This woke Varric enough for Astlyr to give him his instructions and gently pour the leaves past his lips with her hands. The dwarf joined the others in the disgusting business of ridding himself of the vile poison.

"That was bad," Cole rasped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, speaking for them all. "I don't want to do it again."

Myfanwy knelt beside Fen'Harel, trying to shake him gently awake. She looked up with desperation. "He can't take the herb if he won't wake up."

Cole stepped in, "you'll have to give it to him." He stripped some leaves from the branch Astlyr still held and passed them to Myfanwy. "Chew for him."

The elf understood. She jammed the leaves into her own mouth, chewed for a few moment, then bent over the form of Fen'Harel, opening his mouth with gentle pressure she spat the leafy goo from her mouth into his. Then she held his head up, using her fingers on his throat to encourage him to swallow. A long, tense moment passed. Myfanwy sat back on her heels and looking frightened.

Finally Fen'Harel stiffened, then coughed. "Turn him!" Astlyr exclaimed, moving quickly she reached the elf and rolled him onto his side so he could cough out the Breath-bane.

"There we go. Easy now," Astlyr held his hair out of the way with one hand, keeping him on his side with the other. She knew she would have to have strong words with the elf god, but for the moment she was kind. She could afford him a moment. When he had finished retching Astlyr moved aside and Myfanwy took her lord's head in her lap, speaking softly and reassuringly.

"Maker," Groaned Cassandra, rubbing her throat. Her tough, warrior's voice was reduced to a painful whisper.

Cole moved about, soothing their aching ribs, heads and throats with his gift. He reached Astlyr and gave her a thin smile. "The others were worried, but I told them you would come back."

"Of course I came back," she gripped his boney shoulder. Then she looked up at her friends, who were all moving slowly as though they had aged substantially. "What was that you were doing when we rode up?"

"Passing out was better. You didn't care about breathing. You just breathed as best you could, and you didn't care." Cole said, looking at his hands. "But Cassandra knew I couldn't pass out so...she taught me."

"I taught them a breathing mediation the Seekers use," Cassandra explained.

"It helped," said Cole, obscuring his face again with his hat.

"Thank you, Cas," Astlyr nodded to her friend. The scarred woman dipped her chin slightly in answer, her face still stoney and unreadable as ever.

"I take it you found the Dalish?" asked Varric, sitting down on a rock and massaging his ribs with a grimace.

"No, actually," Astlyr explained what had happened. When she reached the part about the halla she gestured to the elegant creature, who stood back from the group, ears cupped forward as it seemed to listen. "She took one sniff of me, then ran off and got the herbs I needed."

Cole moved carefully closer to the beast, tilting his head one way, then the other, his hands clasped before him. "Not a halla. No no. Much more, deeper like an ocean you can't see. Trapped under the ice she looks out. Let me out. Let me feel. Find me under the water."

"Isn't that the animal we brought to the Dalish?" Varric asked. He had been with Astlyr that day, and had thought her a bit silly for taking on yet another quest to find someone's missing pet. As a city dweller himself he had no love for tramping all over the landscape to step in piles of halla scat in an attempt to coax an unwilling animal back to where it belonged. Now he too drew nearer, holding out a hand to the creature. "If it's not a halla what is it?"

"She is a goddess," Fen'Harel's voice was so strained Astlyr barely heard it. She turned, looking down at the elf who was still laying against Myfanwy's legs.

"What?" Astlyr asked, scowling. Her anger was rising and she fought it back. She couldn't abuse a wounded elf, even if he did claim to be a god. Instead she took a knee beside him, meeting his eyes with a steely glare. "Alright, Fen. Time to start talking. Who is this halla? Who was that Celwydd to you. He definitely seemed to know you, and to have a bone to pick with you. Talk."

The others moved closer. Astlyr felt their anger push in like closing ranks. She knew these people as she had known her own family. How quickly they would knit together against a perceived threat. The war had knocked that into them. The huddling instinct of a pack of wolves. Even Cole, who could no doubt read the fear becoming evident on Fen'Harel's face, stood with his friends. Astlyr glanced at the spirit. "You got a read on Celwydd before. I could tell. What did you get?"

"Hot anger, pushing, pounding, penetrating. Lied to. He thought he was safe. Making himself safe, but the wolf lied. Celwydd hated the lie. Hates the ones who told him he would be safe. Hates the humans who made him flee. He scorches inside and there's no water to cool him except pain."

Astlyr gave Cole a quick nod of thanks and turned back to Fen'Harel. He had struggled to a sitting position, distancing himself from Meyfanwy slightly. As he moved the halla drew closer, stretching out its long neck, sniffing the air. "I think...I think I must tell you the truth," Fen said, his voice tight, a grimace on his lips. One that Solas might have worn, but it looked a bit unnatural on Daveth's face, which was obviously more accustomed to being jovial.

"The truth," Astlyr scoffed, rocking back on her heels. "You lie when it suits you and tell the truth when it suits you. Nothing you do is ever for my benefit is it? Do you think you're some sort of puppet master that can take myself and my people and use us however you please? You know what I do with liars."

"You forgive them," said Cole.

"Cole," Astlyr scolded gently, "I'm trying to be a hard-ass here."

"Sorry," the boy put his head down so his hat obscured his face.

Fen's shoulders shook slightly. She wasn't certain if it was sadness, pain or fear. He had not fully healed the wound Celwydd had left him, etched cruelly across his torso, from shoulder to the base of his ribs. It was no longer bleeding, but still looked ugly, and his tattered robe added to the effect.

Cole spoke again, low and fast, obviously reading Fen'Harel, "I'm sorry. I am so so sorry. Walking a spiral path again and again, and always alone. A snake swallowing its tail. An endless longing, wandering cold. Dying alone in the dark, like a lonesome child. So much is expected, so little is offered. So little I can offer except the lies my tongue tells and I want...I need to not be alone."

"So you've been alone for a long time?" Astlyr folded her arms, "The way to keep friends is not to lie to them at every turn."

Fen'Harel spoke again, his voice marginally stronger, even as he curled around himself as though he wanted to disappear. His face was tucked into the cage of his long fingers as he spoke, "I still have holes in my memory. Gaps that haven't returned."

"Convenient," scoffed Varric.

"There are holes. Halves missing," Cole spoke again, pale eyes fixed on the elf. "Truths I can't tell myself. Missing, mostly. Marred in mires of malice. Torn from me by Her. Ripping pieces away like a dog shreds a corpse."

"Alright," Astlyr held her hand out to Cole, stopping him. "So you may have a few memory gaps, but you obviously knew Celwydd, and you just said that the halla over there is not a halla, but a goddess. Explain. Now."

Fen'Harel shuddered again, his hands and face so pale that Astlyr felt her anger ebb. Perhaps she was softening from hanging around with Cole so much. Though the spirit boy could be ruthless when someone threatened him or his friends. 'You like people.' Astlyr groaned in annoyance at herself, then took her cloak from her shoulders and draped it over the huddled elf. Fen froze for a moment, as though expecting her to attack him. When the soft wool settled over him he gripped it in slim fingers as thought it was a lifeline she had thrown him. "I'll begin with the one you called Celwydd," he offered, meekly. Never had Astlyr seen him look so defeated. She pictured the scrawny wolf she had first met in the Fade. How timidly it had touched her hands with its nose.

"Alright. Varric, would you see to a fire?" she asked. "I think we're camping here today."

The dwarf nodded, moving off, though not far, to gather twigs. Each party member carried a few logs on their packs which they gathered as they journeyed during the day in case they could not readily find wood where they camped in the evening. Varric kept his body turned slightly as he worked so he could hear. Cole moved to help him, also keeping as quiet as possible.

"The man you know as Celwydd is a god. Like myself. He is June, commonly known in these times as the god of the craft."

Myfanwy made a startled sound, her eyes going wide.

"There are more of you?" Cassandra's eyebrows shot upward.

"He seemed awfully grouchy for someone associated with crafting stuff," Varric pointed out.

Astlyr hushed her people with a look, then turned back to Fen'Harel who went on. "I imagine you would be irked as well if you went through what he did. Because of me," he shuddered again, even wrapped as he was in Astlyr's cloak. Asltyr was pleased that no one commented, waiting for the elf to continue. "I suppose I must cast us all back to a time when all of us walked the earth. Gods among The People."

"So you did walk with us?" Myfanwy asked. She had come to sit beside Astlyr, facing her deity with an open expression that mocked Fen'Harel's closed one.

"Yes. Though we moved freely to the Fade and back and beyond. We moved as we pleased, as did The People. With the aid of Eluvians the elvhen spread far and ruled much. They built great structures, temples and palaces. They warred, of course, and we warred with them. Because we stood apart, stood above them, sometimes my fellows would mistake their elvhen people for pawns. They waged petty wars as one plays at chess."

"Did you?' Astlyr questioned, settling more comfortably in the snow. She was a little chilly without her cloak, but her qunari nature helped. The cold merely tested, it did not bite.

Fen'Harel shook his head, smiling thinly. "I never had so many followers. Certainly I had some, and they were far more loyal than one might expect. I could never ask them to fight in my pointless squabbles. As a result I became known by some as a coward or weakling. A 'lesser' god. A few others were the same. If they refused to sacrifice the lives under their rule they became known as lesser. It was very bad near the end. I faded further and further back from them. My old friends. I began to spend more time in the Fade, where time has little meaning and battle is rare. Spirits were easier to understand and to befriend. But then I took my watchful eye from The People, and when I looked back again something terrible was rising on our land," he peered up through his long, dark eyelashes, as though afraid to meet anyone's eyes. "Humans. Humans had come and found a once elegant people fractured and fighting. It was easy, oh so easy, for the humans to take advantage."

"That's what humans do isn't it?" Dorian mused. His tone was flat, and he looked up at the sky. The sun was beginning to set over the rolling hills and large rock formations of the plains.

"So the humans came and found the elvhen people easy prey?" Astlyr promoted.

"Yes, in a fashion. Humans also brought new ideas, a new culture, which fascinated many of The People who lived in a world of ancient memories and a history clung to without question. They craved something new more than anything they had ever had. The humans also brought new illness to our land, and the elvhen numbers were substantially reduced in this fashion. They began to quicken. To die long before their time. To live but the fleeting lives of men," Fen'Harel's tone had become bitter, as though the words tasted as foul as Breath-bane on his tongue. "We gods knew we were in trouble. Our armies were nothing now, and many elvhen had stopped seeing us as they once had. Their respect was fading with their endless youth. They tasted age, and they tasted doubt and they were turning against us too. Many of my fellows came to me. I had remained unspoiled by the humans in my usual, cunning way. For once I was the strongest of them. They begged me to hide them."

"You didn't trick them, as the stories say?" Myfanwy asked, her eyes bright with interest.

"Oh, some I did," a quick, clever smile flitted across his tight lips. "Some did not come to me, but I knew I had to get them out, to tuck them away until a safer time for us to reawaken."

"Was this June one you tricked then?" Cassandra asked.

The fire was blazing now and the friends began to move to gather about it. Fen'Harel did not move. Astlyr held out her hands, "come on."

Fen hesitated then set his slender hands into her much larger ones. He felt like nothing more than a bent reed as she helped him up. A light, almost insubstantial creature. A stiff breeze might have blown him over. He grunted in pain as he moved. Astlyr clucked her tongue as she looked him over. "Why not finish healing yourself?"

"He doesn't think he deserves it," Cole filled in for her.

Astlyr made a disgruntled noise before Cassandra could beat her to it as she helped the injured elf to the fireside and deposited him on a rock. She adjusted her cloak around him without thinking. "Look, Fen, I've had about enough," she said, her tone hard. Soldierly. "This self pity thing is starting to grate. Yes you've had a rough time, and yes you've made some mistakes, and yes, I am a little pissed at you, but there is no need for such dramatics."

The halla, who had drawn nearer to the group, still watching with night-dark eyes, snorted as if in agreement with Astlyr's words. Several members of the party chuckled. Fen'Harel still seemed to close in on himself. Astlyr crouched in from of him, her back straight and military, her eyes flinty as Cassandra's were when she addressed her men. "You're a god for Fade's sake! Act like one. So you're been alone a lot these past years-"

"Ages," Fen'Harel mumbled. "It's been more than years. More than decades. I've been alone for Ages. All of you have never seen anything but the Age of the Dragon. I've seen so, so many more. All of them alone."

"Well," Astlyr planted a hand on his leg, "you're not alone right now, are you?"

He blinked at her, peering through a curtain of his dark curls. "I will admit that when I joined the Inquisition it was of necessity, but I found myself most surprised by the willingness of its people to befriend me. Stand with me. I had not...I had not expected it. Had I not been seeking the Orb I might still have remained and aided your efforts."

"So stop feeling so damned sorry for yourself. At least fix yourself up. You're making me look like a bad leader, sitting here with wounded when I could have a healthy group. Don't make me bandage you myself. You won't like it." she couldn't keep a smile from twitching her lips.

Fen'Harel finally met her eyes. Still as keenly blue as ever. Her own eyes were the same hue as the Fade, she had been told, much to her chagrin. He raised a hand to his chest and white magic swirled, closing the wound further until it was only a long scratch across his pale flesh. He looked down again, silent for a long moment.

"So you hid your friends away, and tricked others. Then what?" Astlyr prompted, her voice gentler now.

"Only myself and Mythal remained. She wanted to stay, to try. I didn't want to trick her as I had her husband. She wanted to try to make peace with the humans. She thought the two worlds could reconcile. They...they killed her."

"The humans?" Varric raised his head. He had been prodding a few potatoes into the base of the fire to cook.

"I don't now who struck the final blow," Fen'Harel hugged Astlyr's cloak tighter around himself as though taken with a sudden chill. "She fell. Of course, a god cannot die, but in that moment I found myself utterly alone for the first time in my life. At first I thought I could bear it..."

"Wolves travel in packs," Dorian said, his voice quiet as he watched the flames. His dark eyes flicked up to study Fen'Harel for a moment before returning to his study of the fire.

"So, it would seem, do Dread Wolves," Fen'Harel gave a dry chuckle. "Finally, friendless and hollow, I decided to slumber. I would waken when the time was right, I thought. I would awaken and free my friends and we would have our world back. But sadly, that was not the case."

"Instead you found this, eh?" Varric gestured to the group and the area in general with a wave of his hand. "I suppose I can't blame you for being disappointed."

"But you decided to awaken your friends anyway," Astlyr filled in.

Fen'Harel made a tight sound half way between a groan and wry laugh, "I found Mythal first. She had been awake for longer than I. She too was desperately lonely, but had a better knowledge of what the world was now. How The People were, and the humans, and dwarves now as well," he nodded towards Varric. "In my time the children of the stone never ventured above ground. Most elves had never seen one. Some thought them a myth," he paused, coughing dryly and Cole passed him a waterskin. He took a long drought and handed it back with a grateful nod. Astlyr thought he suddenly looked like a refugee. Someone that she and her friends had found and given food and drink. Was this the man she had known in the dark times with Corypheus? Was he a lie then, was he lying now? Fen'Harel pressed on with his narrative. "Mythal wanted to awaken the rest of the pantheon. I did not, though I kept this from her," he cut a glance towards Astlyr, "and I kept it from you. I sought the Orb and put it into the hands of someone I knew would destroy it."

"Corypheus?" Astlyr sighed.

"Astlyr Adaar."

Astlyr raised her brows, "you cannot possibly claim that you somehow had a hand in the dumb luck that brought me to the Temple of Sacred Ashes at just the right moment." she scoffed.

"No," Fen'Harel admitted, "but when you appeared I knew. I knew I had found one who would do exactly as I hoped. Though I knew Mythal would be very unhappy. I knew she would punish me, and that it might end me for a very long time. I could not turn back. I could not let her waken her mate. He would bring doom on the world."

"Well...shit," grumbled Varric. "We're screwed then, eh Chuckles?" Varric asked. This was the first time he had used the nickname he had given Solas. Astlyr had wondered if the dwarf thought the name no longer applied. Perhaps he had finally decided how he felt about this wolf god.

"Perhaps," Fen'Harel put his head in his hands.

"Is he lying, Cole? Can you tell?" Astlyr turned to her spirit friend who was watching intently.

"His sadness is deep, like a sea roiling over and over. Washing him smooth like a stone until it will wear him away. I...I can't tell for certain if he is lying. I don't think so."

"Alright," Astlyr said, wearily. Her head still hurt and her ribs ached. Cole refreshed her with a quick, soothing touch of his gift, placing a slim hand on her arm for a moment before doing the same for the rest of the group, even Fen, whom the boy eyes with distrust even as he helped.

Fen'Harel seemed to have come to the end of his tale, however, and she moved to sit more comfortably, facing her friends. There were no merry marching songs. Potatoes were eaten in introspective silence. Finally Varric, who hated long silences more than anyone, cleared his throat. "Hey Sparkler," he addressed Dorian, "thanks for that barrier spell you threw over us when that poison gas thing was happening. I think it would have been much worse if you hadn't."

"As much as I would love to claim the credit, I was caught completely flat footed I'm afraid. No, you owe your thanks to the Dread Wolf there." the tevinter mage explained, nodding in Fen'Harel's direction.

"Ah, well, thank you then," Varric said, never one to withhold praise when it was due.

Fen merely nodded and studied his dinner with disinterest. After a moment he rose, Astlyr's cloak falling from his shoulders. He moved a bit away from the camp. All eyes followed him, though no one moved. They waited for Astlyr's signal. Even Myfanwy. Perhaps she had a new view of Fen'Harel, as it was evident he had kept as much from his faithful follower as he had from everyone. Clearly the wolf god was now Astlyr's problem. Heaving a sigh she stood, walking to where the elf had sat she scooped up the cloak and strode out of the firelight to find him.

Fen'Harel had not gone far. He stood speaking in hushed tones to the golden halla. The two had their foreheads together and Fen'Harel cupped the creature's jaw in his hands as he spoke. The halla flicked an ear as Astlyr drew closer, slowing her steps so as not to spook the beast. Still the halla turned and moved away, as though allowing the elf and qunari privacy. Astlyr was reminded in that moment of the fall of Haven. How, once she had recovered from her wounds, Solas had drawn her aside. Then he had moved with confident grace. Now he still seemed defeated. His posture slumped and his eyes downcast. Yet, when he looked at her, that same glimmer of intelligence, as sharp as an edge of glass, glinted in his eyes. The wolf was not dead, only wounded.

"You and I once talked about what might become of the world after all our trials were over. What we would do. You said you wanted to make the world better and I grew angry with you," clearly Fen'Harel was also feeling nostalgic. He twisted his hand, veil fire glowing on his palm, making his face look sickly in the green light.

"Here. You'll catch your death," Astlyr threw her cloak over him again, remembering what her mother had always used to say when she ran out into the winter without proper attire (which was often).

"I asked you what you would do if you failed in your quest to better the world. Do you remember what you told me?"

"That I'd keep trying. I'm stubborn, I suppose. Bull headed. It must be the horns. If a defeat could deter me I think the Inquisition would have needed a new figurehead and fast." she chuckled.

Fen'Harel was drowning in her cloak. It hung to the ground and dragged, but he didn't seem to notice, even as his fingers plucked absently at the hem. "I recall I scoffed at you, but I did think on your words after you had gone. I...I was disappointed with the world I awoke to. I had such hopes that I could return and find it ready for gods again. How wrong I was. It made me bitter. I suppose it still does," he gave a thin smile, raising his chin to look her in the face. "But lately I've been thinking that this new new world does have something to recommend it."

"Oh yes? What might that be? Horse shit? Slavery? Tea?"

Fen'Harel laughed. Astlyr found it immensely reassuring to hear him laugh and she wasn't certain why. "This world has Astlyr Adaar."

"Maker help the world."