AN: Anyone have any interest in my attempting to draw Saeris? Solas shows up in this one and proceeds to take over a lot of the Fade. And I'm still way too entertained Saeris has no idea that Flemeth is more. In that same vein she's learned deception without knowing Flemeth taught her so well..
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"Step, again. Now strike." Leliana is calling out as she guides Saeris through the motions, Zevran watching nearby. Both of the red heads are stripped only to tunics and pair of leggings that belong to Leliana who fortunately had a spare that fit Saeris, and Zevran is most appreciative of the view even as he calls out suggestions.
"She is still looking around too much. I think a blindfold, no?"
"Maybe.." Leliana agrees thoughtfully.
"looking around too much?" Saeris asks but to the approving eyes of the two rogues she has not ceased the routine she has been working on as the others talk, slipping back into the same sequence once more.
"You've been trained by a most exacting teacher." Zevran says finally. "It is evident. Ah but the blindfold is to teach you to use your other senses, it is how rogues know when and where to dodge. Our eyes are often the first to be tricked or what if you are in the dark?"
"Oh.." Saeris pauses only for a moment and closes her eyes, taking a breath before slowly, much more shakily, starting her movements again. They are clumsier and going wide but no one corrects her. Instead the bard and assassin watch, eyes narrowed. There's a flaring to Saeris's nostrils before she tilts her head, one way, and then the other. This time her mouth parts, visibly tasting the air and her bare toes move. It is peculiar for them to witness but astounding as well. They are not mages, but they have seen Saeris shift to her twiceblooded form and live in it often enough to recognize the soft and subtle transition to her movements.
"Again." Leliana speaks as she sees a steadiness to the mage's body, a comfortable stillness in how she is positioned. This time the motions are not so clumsy and wild, still the awkward ones of ways she is not used to moving but there is a far greater awareness to her. Leliana slips towards her and this time with her eyes still closed Saeris moves away, in the correct direction. "Much better." Leliana agrees. "What gave me away?" For she knows it was not her footsteps, silent as they were here on the churned earth. They are dirtied to their ankles from moving around so often.
"Your perfume. You smell like those Andraste's grace flowers you are so fond of." Saeris responds, still moving, if no longer in the patterns.
"Anything else?"
It is much to their amusement that Saeris sweeps her tongue out to lick her lips, a more elegant -and unintentionally seductive movement- than the panting her canine form would do. "There's a taste to the air about you. I don't know how to describe it except I know in my other skin as Leliana."
"Scent has a taste in that form?" Zevran asks, highly curious if so what they would all smell and taste like. The innuendo longs to be loosened into the air but he holds back, if only because these are areas he has come to learn that often go over the Chasind mage's head. She is not embarassed by them either which is a pleasant change, as Surana and Alistair so often are. Wynne he has learned can provide a lot more new material he has never heard of and he dares not venture there with Leliana. There is a pain to her when she hears some of his words that he will not hurt her with.
"Everything is scent and it rolls over." She opens her eyes as Leliana and Zevran laugh at her unintentionally hilarious comment. "Oh yes, laugh it up. But truly, the taste and scent of iron is one we know, right? It's like that."
"Ugh then some of the things we've been killing?" Leliana shivers and Saeris shrugs.
"It's bad when I'm here, but if I am furred? I don't know. The senses are stronger but the ways of thinking are a little different." More like when she's in the Fade if she is to be honest but that is not something she can discuss with any save Flemeth, and the witch is so near yet so far. Knowing that any day now Morrigan must be ready to approach the others with ending her mother's life is itching at Saeris who longs to see the ancient crone once more. For only sentimental reasons though, Flemeth would not approve and if the old witch of the wild's hadn't been planning on Saeris and Morrigan returning to loot and then at least Saeris informing the Templars to lay a false trail for a time?
Flemeth thought of everything. Her own sentiments were not welcomed there though they may be appreciated, not at the expense of progressing her own missions.
"You're distracted." Leliana pointed out and there was something to the gentle way the former lay sister had that let Saeris speak frankly.
"The visit to the tower has me unsettled. As if I am caught between two points in my path and I'm not hesitating, perhaps I should be, but the ...awareness..of the change is alarming."
"I think, we can understand that." Zevran said without much of his usual humor, Leliana smiling in agreement. Ever so slightly, the three shared a quiet moment. Indeed, they had each come from strange and diverse backgrounds, in a sense turning away from them entirely whilst keeping that which they wanted from them.
"Good company then."Leliana chuckled. "Now, lets run through your forms again eyes open but I'll call out when to shut them..."
Obediently Saeris moved into her stance. The motions they were teaching her flowed directly from her staff work, emphasized movement over stagnant positions and if anything seemed to let her draw out motions with her knife -one which Zevran had quietly swapped for a longer and certainly more lethal one- after teaching her how to hold the slightly different blade. Once they knew she could transition they had tentatively brought up teaching her only knife and hand to hand work, thinking she would be unwilling to be without her staff as a focus. Saeris had scowled.
"I'll not have it all the time if the fight goes badly, I'd prefer not to be vulnerable. Casting is hard and clumsy without a weapon, but it can be done. I'll just need practice." It was a sentiment the other two could understand into their very cores and so Leliana sat with her often, awaiting the group that more and more was Surana, Wynne, Morrigan, and Alistair as they ran fools errands. It clearly troubled Sten but since those staying behind were working on becoming better warriors the large qunari held his tongue around them and simply resumed his own practice work. Indeed, if anything it appeared they had greater merit in their working to better their lethality than the number of tasks that Surana was commanding to bring in gold and supplies. Not that the large man complained when Surana paid for new gear for Sten from Bodhan's stores.
Eventually Sten confronted Saeris when she was alone, butchering the deer she had brought down in her canine form, not really minding that the traces of blood were still on her lips in a smear of ichor and kohl where her face paint had been disturbed, the evidence on her sleeve.
"You are a Saarebas." Sten said, arms crossed and looming over her. Slowly Saeris looked up at him. Her instincts were screaming that she was not in danger yet, but could be.
"What is that?"
"It means, dangerous thing."
"Thing?"
"A tool. Were you among the Qunari your tongue would be cut out, your lips sewn shut and your eyes blinded. You would be leashed by one who knew how to control you."
Far from being alarmed Saeris breathed out, sitting on her haunches. The thought to argue she was neither thing nor dangerous did not fit with that she was until a moment ago elbow deep in the guts of her prey that she brought down with her jaws and regularly summoned spells that caused great swaths of destruction.
"I see. It is not so different. I am leashed." And it was the truth though she had been given the chance to hold it in her own hands. "They have my blood, and my oath. The closest that I have to a father is Ser Gregoire whom you met in the Circle of Magi. He has given me strict instructions, rules, and requests I am to follow even as I join on this quest."
"You intend to obey?" Sten's voice was as stoic as ever but since his arms were crossed and not swinging a weapon at her she felt at ease telling the truth. The scent that coated Sten was different from human or elf, it was a wild thing, like smothered flames, ashes ready to spark into a blaze. A musk that told her he was no less dangerous than the dragon they had fought.
"To a point. Where he gave me leeway was not meant to loosen me entirely but knowing that it made me more willing to follow the parts he valued."
"Tell me."
"If we find places that alarm me, scenes he would send his men to I shall send word. There is a dangerous witch in the Kocari wilds, Morrigan's mother, and when I next send a missive I will be telling him of that location. If we run into mages I think are dangerous he will know where. I am never to learn certain magics..need I go on?"
Sten nodded slowly. "I met him. He is a fine warrior. Will you not run from him? Become apostate?"
"As long as Gregoire is the one running the templars at the circle I will listen." And it was the truth slipped from her lips before she had another thought. She sighed then. "He did not wish me to see Jowan, the blood mage back in Redcliffe, when he was sentenced and taken back. The man was my dear friend for years but we do not know exactly what blood mages can do. Ser Gregoire asked me to stay away out of concern for my safety, I could not refuse him that."
"You did not answer the question."
"I will have to test any replacement that comes, to ensure I am willing to follow them. Too many are corrupt or weak and hide behind an abuse of their powers."
"Then perhaps you are not so much Saarebas as it is the dog in you has taken over your mind. You do know something of loyalty."
"Maybe. Would it surprise you that I think of the other form as much mine as this?"
"I can accept that. You are just a dog who becomes human and uses magic. You are leashed. I will not need to find a way to end you in battle."
Saeris could do nothing but blink as Sten then turned and walked away. The man was baffling. Though as she returned to her task the mage could not help but wonder. The qunari was observant, spoke honestly and without any care to how one would take it. A dog who becomes human and could use magic, or better, how much..
How much had her early exposure to the spirits who trained her, to Valor, made her more that way? Was that perhaps what Flemeth was pushing her towards insisting she dream as her other self? Could a mage, even a dreamer, become more akin to the spirits than not? It is a terrifying thought and makes her tremble, cutting her hand on the blade she was using to butcher the deer. With a moments work she has the slash healed and pauses.
If it is possible, the damage is already done. She already thinks and acts in ways she may not have before her being afflicted with the werewolf curse and the gifts of the Lady. Before that her upbringing was so scattered, so varied, her mentors none of which most would have sought out. Much as she had told Leliana and Zevran days before she is aware of the changes happening just outside of her peripheral vision, that the world is rapidly reforming into something she is not even certain she fits into anymore. If ever she did.
There has to Flemeth's knowledge, never been an elfblooded human who kept traits of their heritage from the People. She's a dreamer who learned to hide as a lesser spirit, trained by spirits to not think and move through the fade as a dreamer or a mage at all but as one of them. She's been cursed and blessed both by a forest entity and the Witch of the Wilds.
Just for a moment Saeris permits herself to feel loss. Of what could have been. The ideas of sneaking back amongst Dalish or Chasind and losing herself to just a simple life among either group though only glimmers for a moment, a wil'o'wisp soon lost to the clarity of dawn. It would never be enough for her now. Not when she'd tasted freedom and learned to fight among so many strangers. Not when there was all of Thedas and the other half of it, mirrored in the Fade, awaiting her explorations. Licking her lips and tasting kohl and blood Saeris throws her head back and laughs.
Flemeth called her correctly. She'd be the Storm Bringer because she'd never feel at ease safe upon the shore.
When she steps back into camp that evening her eyes are bright and her smile sharp, thrown into a more grim expression with the smudges of black and dried blood on her face, the meat in the oil sack just for that purpose being set upon the fire. Everyone there does not bother to hide their amusement as Saeris growls and snuffles at Barkspawn who soon takes off into the brush, to go claim the remnants of the kill before the scavengers do. It has at this point, not become so unusual.
"I'm thinking we head to Denerim next." Surana mentions, his hair falling in his eyes and with an annoyed snort he's tugging it back into a tail once more.
"Why would we want to go there? It's just going to be full of people and loud." Morrigan says. But across the fire Surana locks eyes with Saeris and she nods. There's only a moment that Saeris feels yellow eyes from her fellow shapechanger boring into her skin before Surana speaks up.
"Our phylacteries are in the Denerim Chantry."
Not even Alistair protests the course of action they are setting up now. Though Zevran brings up the chance they will have to face crows, Leliana has moved to sit beside her, Zevran on her other side and it is to Saeris's bemusement she realizes the rogues are being protective. Then again, her obliviousness often had her teased -and the massive blow up from Surana- so perhaps she is closer to the bard and assassin than she had given herself credit for? Judging by the comfort they are showing in critiquing her on their latest skirmish with bandits as they traveled, that is the case.
Morrigan's gaze is heavy and when Saeris looks up later, taking first watch with Leliana, she realizes it is because the dark haired apostate is luring Surana into her tent. Painfully aware that even those already in their tents, and certainly the red headed lay sister beside her, are watching her move it only amuses Saeris to wave to Morrigan with a grin. Well, she didn't get a chance to warn her fellow Witch of the Wilds about Surana's lack of skill but if anyone can force the psychokinetic mage into doing as they like it is Morrigan.
The faint pleased smile is there and gone before anyone can claim later they saw it, for all the only two looking at Morrigan are herself and Leliana, but Saeris knows. It is relief that this will not strain their already once more peculiar friendship.
"That's generous of you. You were lovers with him, were you not?" Leliana asks, gazing into the fire as they wait, weapons at their side just in case.
"In the tower? It was honestly just to relieve the urges of our bodies. Nothing more. A tumble between friends..well, rutting against the nearest wall hidden among the books really. Rarely satisfying for me though he seemed always much happier after."
"Oh!" Leliana is giggling and Saeris grins at the coquettish appearance. "Oh dear..please tell me you at least were able to ah, finish?"
"At times." Usually only if she'd been newly awakened, sometimes he'd sneak into her room for she didn't have a dorm with the others long, though how they hid that it was because she'd passed her harrowing Saeris never bothered to ask, likely spun a tale about her work with the tranquil which tended to bother everyone else too much too think on. That it was only when the lingering traces of the Fade clung to her senses that Surana's quick fumbling had not left her more wound up than otherwise had never really sunk in before.
"Morrigan has a lot to train then." Leliana sighs, but her eyes are dancing. "It's been a long time for me, but I remember many nights pursuing what we called in Orlais 'la petite mort' the little death."
"La petite mort..." Saeris rolled the words on her tongue. "It sounds..so very exotic, and yet not in the filthy way that Zevran says things. Almost.."
"Poetic?"
"Yes. Teach me?"
"Ah..." And Leliana's body language is surprised. "I admire you greatly and consider you a friend but I view you more as perhaps a little sister, Saeris not.."
"I meant.." But Saeris finds herself laughing then, and smiles, chuffing her amusement at one point before scowling at the sound that has escaped her. Though the clearly canine sound has now set off Leliana into her own soft laughs so she cannot be too upset. "Orlais."
"Orlesian."
"That."
"You..you wish to know it?"
"It is part of you, and beautiful. You're my friend aren't you now? And..besides then we can say things behind the backs of everyone else!"
"Scandalous!" Leliana giggles but their faces are close and eyes shining. That is when Leliana rests her forehead against Saeris's own and the elfblooded human feels herself basking in comfort she hadn't known since..since her mother. A woman she misses and will be looking for the moment this Blight is over. Little sister Leliana had called her. She...
"How do I call you elder sister?" Because she's missed having a clan and never was a part of Clan Lavellan, she was never able to have siblings, perhaps if her father's first wife and child had lived or maybe she herself would have never come to be. But Leliana whom would never have been her choice except that the faith driven former bard was whom she needed to free herself, and her friends from their blood forged chains. Some how since that day, when Leliana stepped up to help tell the Dalish what she wanted in an outfit, which should be completed by now for certain, and then again in aiding her at Redcliffe's chantry. Helping her with her fighting, she's come to trust Leliana as much as Morrigan, but in a softer way. Morrigan will still sacrifice others and herself for a plan but Leliana?
Leliana has a heart so large that when she speaks of her faith others shy away because their own hearts are too small to understand how she wishes just to share what has brought herself comfort, to give of herself in every way she can. It's comforting once you realize her lectures on the Maker and Andraste are not to force a new conversion but to try and share what has brought her joy because she wishes others to have the same.
"Sourer ainée" Comes the soft voice of Leliana and then there's the scent of tears in the air, not that they are shed and something soft and warm seems to shimmer around the two girls. There's a magic happening, but it is so subtle, so soft, that Saeris realizes she will need to seek answers that evening when it is her turn to sleep. Perhaps a spirit lingers in this area, she has no idea what one controls this part of the Fade overlapping the waking world.
"Sourer Aime."
"Ainée." Leliana corrects her but there's a hand lacing through her own hesitantly. When Saeris finds herself squeezing it back, Leliana speaks up again. "Ma Sourer ainée means my eldest sister.."
"Ma sourer ainée."
"Oui."
The watch passes with simple words being taught, and the teasing as she learns that la chienne means bitch and dog both and is now her nickname from Leliana showing that the bard does have a wicked sense of humor. Because it is 'essential' Leliana coaches her through various curse words and they neglect to waken Sten for his watch until hours into it. The Qunari glares but mutters something about women and their pets as he goes to take his post. Leliana retires to her own tent and bed roll, but for some time now Saeris has taken to just leaving her pack with Surana or Wynne and sleeping in her canine form. It becomes just the right temperature and the ground is never too hard in that way.
()()()()()()()()()
Slipping into the Fade is as easy as breathing and just as natural for her. Saeris just closes her eyes and in a twist not so unlike swapping her form these days she finds the comforting green hue around her. The echos, the formless void that shifts and alters for reality. As Saeris does not expect to find anything, not even ground, she remains in that curious not-there state that most only pass through on their way into dreams. The only truth Saeris acknowledges in this moment is her own form, but not it's limitations. What need has she to breathe even in a place that needs not air to exist? Her fur reflects the multiple orbs of curious wisps that flicker about, their colors a rainbow of hues as she playfully ripples the Fade in their direction with a thought, body language expressing her joy at the idea of play. Yet she lifts herself from the forward bow like posture as her ears flicker forward. First, she must find the spirit whose domain this is and pay her respects.
The very idea summons them of course, and before long her ears are pricked forward as she sits, tongue lolling out as the glowing form before her coalesces into a vaguely humanoid shape. Around them the Fade sculpts itself into curving pathways and hills made of strange forms. Tiny speckles of mosiac like patterns dot the air in spirals that must be the framework to hold up the various dream structures that would be created here. Saeris does not fixate upon them, not wishing to call them into being.
"Be welcome visitor. I see you are here in the physical as well. I have many coming and resting in this place to feed into the crafting of my home, will you then take from or add to my domain?" It is not asked unkindly but merely curious. For living souls add to a spirits domain by providing new material that it uses to help craft dreamscapes and the numerous wisps create their woven tapestries by exploring their memories. Much as she has shared with Valor in her clumsy fashion so too are these young wisps awkward and often heavy handed. When demons latch on as well it helps twist into nightmares of a more dangerous sort but generally it is all the work of curious spirits, who wonder about the waking realm. As a Dreamer her very existence can rip apart all the hard work into the 'building' of a location that a spirit has crafted though they rarely mind. After all a Dreamer knows how things should fit together being of the waking realm. But Saeris has not been wandering as a dreamer, she wanders as Valor taught her, as if she truly was one of the wild spirits that the Chasind called 'Beloved of the Gods' or Totems. A transient guest.
"I am willing to aid, I am just curious." Saeris replies instead, her tail thudding and the rippling of light around the spirit guardian is like laughter. She is not the first of the 'totem spirits' of the Chasind to be riding a living being and be of the fade as well, lesser spirits do so far more often than most realize outside of the Chasind and Rivaini, even the mages, because they are of such little notice. The Dalish themselves think nothing of seeing a glimpse of a rare animal that vanishes in the woods before a hunter can catch it, calling it a messenger of one of their pantheon. Saeris knew many of them before she realized it was not common and so playing up to Flemeth's advice and Valor's teachings is simple.
Indeed they have prepared her well.
"Who are you, friend?" Asks the spirit and it is customary, the host wishing to know the name and then gifting their own. Taking in before sanctuary is granted for the time. Even mortals do this though they've created far too much pomp and ceremony to the fact.
"Twiceblooded."
"The mortals refer to me as 'The camp at the Green hill'." The spirit answers in a way that if you are accustomed to their thinking makes perfect sense. For this is not a spirit of an emotion, but likely grown from many coming and going near this place, regarding it and the nearby stream and lush grassy area as a comfort after the Hinterlands or the steep cliffs near Redcliffe, the imposing Brecilian forest that looms nearby. Letting the spirit grow in strength and intelligence with every soul that slept there and found comfort. A protective entity that sought to ensure the happiness and peace of it's guests. Her companions would have wonderful dreams that evening which in turn would help empower the glowing form across the way. A symbiosis that was sheer perfection when it worked.
"A fine name." Saeris answers and it is. It names this spirit, it's location, as clearly as her nature is in Twiceblooded. What they are is something open and obvious without subterfuge. Power lays within titles and all those years ago when Flemeth gifted her another and cautioned Morrigan and Saeris sitting by her knees to always be careful with their own has served her well. "Where may I aid?"
"I've a visitor who requires much attention. Could you perhaps amuse them while I attend to the mortals? The wisps are new here yet barely four centuries as they count the years." Though said gently it is not truly a request and a strand of power dances out from the spirit to sink into Saeris's muzzle letting her get a feel for where the visitor is. Much like her it is common for spirits to meet up and share their tales in memories and talks. Because the Fade shapes to what one pictures Saeris simply imagines herself before the clear sensations of this other self visiting the Spirit in charge of the location. The power is strong and swift like the current deep below a river, deceptive in it's quiet nature. So much more than five senses is involved when in the Fade and open to the ideas, and so with a yawn and a shake of her fur Saeris reforms from the atoms of the Fade before the stranger.
They're apparently an elf or perhaps once were and now are dead, garbed richly and with the sides of their head shaven and long locks though this part of the Fade is dark. Not in the sense of a lack of light but in a heavy sensation of too much emotion and thought and aged wisdom. A being to respect.
"Well, now who may you be?" Comes the voice and it flows only from one direction as his mouth moves. A rich timber that while entirely pleasant to hear betrays the nature. This is a mortal or at least once was and Saeris is greatly thankful for her mentors. Her own voice echoes everywhere and no where when she responds, the lightness that comes with her and her nature telling much about her though not that she too has a mortal form, just her youth and inexperience.
"Twiceblooded. The camp at the Green Hill asked me to come whilst it tends to mortals and dreams with the young wisps."
"So I am sent an even younger spirit?" But the rich voice is amused as he laughs, and it is so strange to see someone do that in the Fade! Saeris tilts her head one side and feels her ears flicker her confusion seeing him breathe and it makes him laugh more.
"Not used to mortals are you, Twiceblooded? Where do you hail from?"
()()()()()()()()()()()()
Solas finds himself pleased at the choice of distraction that the local spirit has sent. He is still sleeping, far off from waking yet but at least he may now cast his consciousness much further than before. It wears him down to do so but he simply has to have something new to witness. Indeed it was something he had never considered, that in Uthenera perhaps they would run out of things to dream of unable to seek out new locations when all the history of a place had been observed. He's found that locations with hospitable guardians however are willing to share some of their energies and it allows him to go further and further from where his body lays asleep without depleting his magical stores yet further.
Though he resides in Uthenera it is a means to an end, he is by no means prepared to let loose his ties to the mortal realm and pass on solely into the Fade yet. There is too much to do still. Too much to see.
It may be one of the youngest spirits he has witnessed in aeons, at least while being aware and intelligent. What manner of creature may this one turn into in time? The spirit is a dog, though it draws to mind his own preferred wolf form it has a few variations in body that tell it's nature. The utter youth and joy that seems to trail behind it, all but visible in little wisps of thoughts and emotions flickering in tiny sparks of wisp memories too tiny to even attempt to catch on a finger are as telling as a child running about with a treasured toy. This is but an infant in spirit form, but it can already amass a solid appearance and speak, far cry from the true wisps.
"I am from the Chasind, in the Kocari wilds." The named Twiceblooded creature says and the way it echoes in the Fade leaks out emotions. Shameless again as a confident little toddler that has no reason to feel it should not be so honest. It is something about spirits that Solas has always treasured. They do not need to wrap everything in intrigue. As enjoyable as the games of court can be there is something all but sacred in the complete abandonment of such behavior.
"Chasind?"
"The people of this land often divide what they call each other though they are all from the same litter once. Chasind became Fereldan and they started to wear too many layers and forget the truth in the wind and waters." There are scents that come with those thoughts, ones even Solas can pick up on. The memory of wind in fur and cold water tasting of minerals and earth against a tongue in a longer mouth, one with teeth and muzzle as it laps at the surface.
"The chasind made you then.." Solas hums as he thinks on it. Humans. Humans managed to create a spirit this capable is not entirely unexpected but it does surprise him.
"In part." The hound shifts and though Solas has formed a chair to rest in and grounds that feel familiar in their opulent carvings and soft lights around the hound does not acknowledge them so much as just yawn and pull it's legs up, seeming to hover in the air. There's no compulsion to lay lower and seem to be on the ground, only amusing Solas more. "There have been many who helped, shape and teach and guide and still do. Mortals come in so many hides and furs and tempers." There is amusement and a sly look to the positioning of it's head and ears that draws yet another laugh from Solas. It feels wonderful to laugh once more and the ever present pains and memories that have dampened his time enjoying the fade seem to be slipping further.
"Yes. Even the immortals tend to do so."
"Do they?" Twiceblooded rolls over onto it's side, still in mid air but staying at eye level as far away as it is. "I've never met a mortal immortal. Ha! That is a twist for the words! Like running a hare round n round!"
"Once all the lands here were lived on only by mortals who lived for thousands upon thousands of years and perished only in battle or if they sought to sleep endlessly; with the spirits often called by their side. There was no veil then, though the Fade was still far more accessible to the waking ones when they slept." Solas said, eager to share what he knew to a young spirit that had never known such a time.
"Oh, do tell? No. Wait. I mean, I am supposed to amuse you..." And the tuck of the tail, only possible because of that strange position the spirit was in and the way it's ears went down ashamed made Solas rush to reassure it. Clearly it had only ever been taught to obey and listen when another was speaking, to finish any task set, who had taught it until now? Surely with it's coherence it had not been left to drift aimlessly!
"I am happy to share. You are most amusing.." And the flare of temper was another sign of this spirits potential. Common ones did not act in such ways they remained one dimensional. Even his dearest friend Wisdom from his own youth rarely could show anything but it's nature no matter the situation.
"Amusing?"
"You react."
A head tilted, before the spirit vanished and reformed, sitting on the floor now and scratching at it's ear. "The Chasind are passionate people. Proud. Strong. They adapt, they strike back, they lay in wait to bite. They do not just roll over and show their throat."
"Yet you also have shown humility."
"I have shown respect for The Guardian and the task it gave me."
"Then my own feelings do not matter?"
"You do not send them out."
Solas paused, it had never really been pointed out to him but then he had been around spirits generally that were thousands of years old or had yet to realize that dreamer's- as rare as they were- did not project as spirits did. "The wisps must delve into the thoughts of the sleeping ones, it is the same. Mortals, even Immortal ones, do not 'project' as you do."
Twiceblooded reared back, the form fluctuating in it's startlement and then settling, though it seemed if anything, larger, than before. Most curiously. "It must be awfully lonely."
"Lonely?"
"Not sharing."
"That is what words are for. And surroundings. Shall I show you something?" Solas asked, wondering what the young spirit would ask to see. But once more it showed it's nature and didn't seem interested.
"I see many places as I roam."
"You are a living spirit? A..what was that term.."
"A totem?" Twiceblooded asked with a lolling of it's tongue, a laugh in canine form.
"Indeed. You slip from one half of the veil to the other then?"
"They are both real to me." It agreed and Solas shook his head. On one hand he envied it, on the other it must get terribly confused.
"Have you any directive? A drive?"
"I'm not that young!" Twiceblooded bristles and the sheer annoyance in it's echoing tones make Solas laugh almost uncontrollably. It is so much like a petulant youth in it's aggrieved sound.
"Forgive me but you've no clear distinction, whom trained you?"
Clearly he has thrown the spirit for another loop as it settles though the form is still a little larger. "Curiosity found me, Patience tempered me, Valor took me under it's tutelage when the other two no longer could."
A strange combination. "And what of your nature?"
"I was thus from the start though it took me a while to figure out how to be." Twiceblooded answers honestly and Solas just nods. Perhaps he could offer to help this spirit. Certainly it has the potential in a few centuries to be the start of something wondrous. There is freedom and pride, joy and honesty in this spirit and these are all traits Solas has treasured over the years.
"Are you free?"
"I am following a group of mortals."
"Be careful!" Solas cautions, worried now for this bright young soul. "If they caught you.."
"They know. They think me something like a Mabari they have. The Mabari seems to think I need to be taught to be a dog." There's an audible sniff and feeling of disdain that ripples from it's fur in a sharp pattern and Solas feels his lips tug into a smirk.
"You hide in plain sight, do you? You certain you are not a cat or a fox?" Solas teases gently, delighting in the interaction with this bright soul.
The sheer disgust that disrupts the physical appearance of the spirit before it reforms is as much a tell as if it had started to gag and give him an affronted look that simply cannot happen with it's features.
"You needn't insult me." Twiceblooded sniffs. "Yet you have not even granted your name."
Solas finds himself embarassed and bows from his seat, properly chastised by a youngling. Such a strange evening, and the fact that this Twiceblooded clearly does not know how rare and dangerous he is as a dreamer mage to it's existance means there is none of the hesitant reverence or the fawning behaviors either. It keeps him from gifting the title most would know him as, there is no reason to need explain the complex history behind it.
"I am Solas."
"Solace?" The hound twists it's tail in a circle, amused now. "Comfort? You do not seem a being of comfort. One of laughter and jests maybe.."
"Solas. It's Elvhen." He replies though the denial of his being a creature of merriment never comes from his lips which are indeed, once more letting out a chuckle at the brash behavior of his companion. "It means Pride."
"Pride is good." The hound asserts and then it makes the strangest expression that ripples along it's fur, sending off little sparks as if something had just yanked it's tail before it vanishes entirely. Alarm fills him and swiftly he calls on the spirit whose realm he is visiting.
"The young Twiceblooded, what happened to it?"
The guardian spirit hovers softly. "It's companions have awakened, night has passed into dawn and they stir."
"It is all right?"
"Yes." As an answer a faint spiral of light memory hovers and Solas grasps it.
He sees the hand of a human in armor lowering as if to pet the fur -so much duller in hue outside the Fade- of Twiceblooded. Before the hand is even close enough to make contact the eyes snap open, a brilliant citrine that are wide awake and teeth clamp tight upon the man's glove making him yelp. To his credit though the human just sulks at the hound.
Oh come on, not even once? The man sighs but Twiceblooded releases his hand and stands, shaking out it's fur before giving a dismissive snort.
She isn't really just a dog you dolt. Another human woman says, sneering. Her wild appearance is cultured at the same time and then she is gazing at the hound in amusement. You should have drawn blood, but all the same not a bad way to start the morn.
Nearby an older woman, clearly a mage from her staff is spooning out porridge for the strange group of mortals. Diverse and varied indeed but there is no hesitation to place the bowl down for the large short haired bulkier breed and the elegant form of Twiceblooded both. A soft here you are dear and a sneaking handful of berries added to the one for Twiceblooded is rewarded with a wagging of the tail. That the hound is clearly more than just a dog is easily accepted and not at all with suspicion. Solas is startled as the memory ends but smiles. At least his newest acquaintance is traveling with mortals who appreciate it for what it is.
()()()()()()()()()()
Because Solas never asked for information about the spirit besides what he had witnessed, it did not occur to the guardian entity to reveal when shortly after the meal was done how the hound had returned to being a woman, gathering the bowls to go wash them nearby.
Surana grinned at them from where he and Alistair were consulting a map as the last of the gear was once again stowed and packed. "Onward to Denerim."
Freedom was close enough now that Saeris felt it against her throat, a collar being loosened. In Denerim's chantry they'd find their phylacteries.