Nema found every greedy slurp that Donal Amell took of his tea to be grating. She tapped her fingers against her thigh and exhaled. The human had always possessed an unnatural pallor, but as he sat next to the campfire, the dark bags beneath his eyes and the way his knuckles blanched around his tea cup spoke to his lack of health. Nema supposed she should have been amazed that Wynne had managed to save his life after losing so much blood. His eyes were drained dots that darted across their companions that had gathered by the fire.
"We're headed toward the Brecelian Forest, right?" He didn't appear to be talking to anyone in particular. Donal pressed the lip of the tea cup against his forehead.
"That's the plan," Alistair drawled. He paused. "Right? I thought that was the plan. We didn't change the plan when I wasn't looking, did we?"
"Has anyone given any thought to Bann Teagan's request?" Leliana asked. The bard was occupied with restringing her bow, but there was a sharpness to her eyes hidden by heavy lids. "If we are to search for Andraste's ashes, I volunteer to undertake that task."
Donal's mouth twisted. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before letting out a long exhale. "That's not what I meant," he said.
"What did you mean?" Nema said. It was almost comical how his hackles would raise at the mere sound of her voice. Then again, Donal Amell knew Nema Surana and Nema Surana knew him. And Nema knew that he was working some angle.
"I just meant that to get to the Brecelian Forest, we'd have to pass by Ostagar, is all." He went back to slurping his tea a little too quickly to be natural and burnt his tongue in the process.
"And pass on by it we shall!" Edgar declared. He reached a finger towards Leliana's bow as if to pluck the string, but was stilled by a shake of her head and a smile. "I have enough nightmares about Ostagar without returning."
"I was just thinking about Cailan," Donal said. "King Cailan. Or, former King Cailan, rather. A cruel fate for anyone."
"He fought bravely," Edgar murmured. "May he sit at the foot of the Maker."
"I can't imagine the darkspawn gave him a proper burial," Donal continued. "What do you suppose they do with their dead?"
"Cailan wasn't one of their dead." There was a hardness to Alistair's voice as he spoke suddenly. "I don't like to think of him in their hands."
"So we could, then?" Donal asked. "I mean, since we're passing by anyway? I think it would be nice to find Cailan and bury him proper. It's the least we could do."
Nema felt her eyebrow strain upwards. There was not a world here nor beyond the Veil where Donal Amell concerned himself with anything other than the yellowed pages of tomes or voluptuous girls. There was absolutely no way Nema could conceive of him legitimately being impassioned enough to travel to a decimated battlefield over respect for a fallen king.
Alistair frowned. "We'd have to assess the darkspawn presence in the area. But it would be nice."
Smart. Broadcast false good intentions to the kingdom's sycophants, Alistair and Edgar. What was so important in Ostagar, Nema wondered. "Ostagar was lost to the darkspawn," she said. "It would be a great risk without much to gain."
Donal's eyes narrowed. "It's the little things that show how different we are from the darkspawn. What's the point in defeating a Blight if we lose our humanity in the process?"
She wouldn't laugh. As dusk settled and darkened their faces around the campfire, she could taste his desperation. Large, sweeping truisms and dropping phrases like 'humanity' on an elf. What did Donal Amell want?
"We can respect him from afar," Nema said quietly. "Cailan needs us to live for the sake of his kingdom."
Donal didn't have a response to that. Just a tightness to his features and a flush of color to his cheeks that was masked by the warm glow of the fire. Nema smiled.
"There's no harm in assessing it when we get closer," Alistair said.
Donal grinned back at her and raised his tea cup. She wished she could stare through him.
"I still volunteer to find the sacred urn of ashes," Leliana said. She had tucked her bow away and begun to stretch her hands out in front of the fire. "Am I to go alone?"
"I can accompany you, if you'd like." Silfee Cousland sat down next to the other woman. She began to work her fingers through the braids in her dark hair. "Teagan said he had a Brother Genetivi researching its location."
"Is that all Teagan said?" Edgar waggled his brows at his sister.
"Yes," she said in a way that left her brother laughing.
"If we are to do this, we should go now," Leliana said. "We're traveling in opposite directions."
"They shouldn't go by themselves," Frannie said suddenly. Alistair shot her a look and she shot him one back.
"Are you sure?" Alistair asked, his voice dripping with incredulity.
Frannie grimaced. "What have we got to worry about? Shale is coming with us." Her eyes, crazed and frantic, stared down the golem.
Nema took Shale's resigned sigh as consent.
Silfee clapped her hands together. "Just us four girls!"
"We won't get into too much trouble," Leliana said with a lazy smile. "I think."
"Have we forgotten about the Brecelian Forest, then? Duty doesn't matter, maybe a hole will open up in the ground and swallow us all up!" It took Nema a moment to register the voice. Rastaban Mahariel usually kept to himself and now to hear him nearly shouting gave the night a surreal edge. The Dalish jerked upright and stalked away from the campfire and toward the darkened woods. After a pleading look from Adele, Zevran hopped to his feet and pursued the other man. Odd.
"He's right," Nema said. "We can't forget our obligations."
Her gaze flickered across the faces that surrounded the campfire. Adele, who kept looking toward the blackness of the forest and Alistair with his furrowed brow who kept glancing at Donal's tight-lipped frustration. Silfee got up and retired to her tent. Only Wynne seemed wholly content. The old woman massaged one hand with the other and basked in the comfort of the fire.
"It's late and everyone needs their rest." She gave a smile that may have soothed people like Edgar, but it was a smile that Nema found to be placating.
"We're undecided," Nema said.
"And we'll continue to be," Wynne replied. "There's no way of knowing how plausible or foolish an expedition into Ostagar will be until we pass by it. Our energy is better spent on the travel ahead of us in the morning than on countless what ifs."
Nema couldn't argue with that. Edgar clapped his hands together and hopped up. "Right! Good night!" He hurried to his tent, with his dog on his heels.
Adele muttered something incomprehensible before she too, escaped the shadows of the dying fire. Slowly, one by one all their companions made their way to bed. Even Frannie meandered to her tent eventually, once she ran out of twigs to throw into the fire.
Nema gathered dirt in a bucket to snuff out the flames. She was too agitated to sleep, but Wynne was right; she should try. Nema poured the dirt over the dying embers and then patted a hand along the ground in search of a stick. It was always the few moments after the fire sputtered out and before her eyes adjusted to the pitch black that were the most difficult. Nema paused and waited for the blackness to give way to shadowed shapes and forms.
That's when she saw it. It had to be Morrigan with her skin matching the pale color of the moon overhead. And Donal Amell with his shocking white skin. They stood out like two fireflies in the dark on the far edge of camp. Nema couldn't make out any of their words, but it didn't matter. That he had his forehead pressed against hers told Nema enough.
After all, there was not a world here nor beyond the Veil where Donal Amell concerned himself with anything other than the yellowed pages of tomes or voluptuous girls. Nema smirked as she stabbed the dirt and smoldering ash with her stick. It was good to know which voluptuous girl was pulling the strings.