Compression
Alistair
Uldred is gone, the danger passed, but as she asks to stay longer, Morgana is cold, staring grimly in front of her.
Leliana asks her what is wrong, but she simply says, "Anders", like it will explain everything. Maybe to her it will, but he's still left wondering who this man is that seems to preoccupy her so much. A lover? A brother?
"This 'Anders' - " he begins, cautiously, but she cuts him off, seemingly not having time for niceties.
"A friend."
She sees his sceptical look, and says, "Nothing more. Nothing less."
Again, nothing even close to an explanation, but there's time, he thinks. "Right." He leaves Wynne talking to Greagoir and Irving, making prepearations to leave with them, and follows her back through those doors, into the gates of the Black City itself.
This was... not what he expected. She orders them around one last circuit of the mages' quarters (he ignores the churning in his stomach as he turns over another corpse), and when he asks why, she simply says again, "Anders."
None of the corpses are the man she seems to be looking for - apparently a mage - though some are mutilated beyond recognition, so how would they know...
He cuts this unpleasant thought off at the look on Morgana's face. She swallows. "Maybe he escaped."
Escaped? The Tower? He didn't even know it was possible, but Morgana says it like it's a regular occurrence - maybe it is for this Anders.
She looks ahead, her face set, but he thinks that they're feeling the same thing: blood soaks the walls; the templar in him and, he knows, the mage in her, can sense gaping tears in the Veil from the atrocities committed here, and it makes every hair on the back on his neck, down his spine, stand on end; for the love of the Maker, they're having to step over corpses, and he tries not to look at them too hard, tries not to notice how small some of them are, because the only way he is coping is focusing on their leader, on the mask she is wearing that is slipping dangerously, and listening to his own heartbeat in the silence that seems to have settled over the Tower. He can't explain it, but this place, its walls, is pressing down on them, and it's hard to breathe here.
Morgana looks to him, looking like she, too, is making a conscious effort to keep her breathing steady. "We need to go," is all she says, but he nods, and so does Leliana, something nameless, something human, shared between the three of them.
Before any of them seem to have consciously decided on a destination, they're striding towards the doors, eager to breathe clean air, and Wynne hurries to keep up with them, breaking off her conversation with Greagoir and Irving.
His only thought, as they break through the doors and he swears he sees Morgana sigh, smile, inhale, is that he'd forgotten how good sunshine felt.