Double update! This would have been Friday's.
Progress
Leliana
Progress through the forest is achingly slow as Morgana ducks and dodges branches; still tense from encounters with the wolves, Leliana's ears picking up every sound, she sighs as every one turns out to have an innocuous source. She is covered with scratches, but doesn't even wince as each thorn finds its target. She lets out one short hiss of pain as she looks down to see a bleeding gash across her knee; Morgana, still clearly as nervous as she is, picks it up and turns around, asking Alistair to stop for a moment.
Morrigan is behind her, but, of course, utterly ignores her injury, sighing at having to halt their barely-there progress.
Morgana walks to her and sees the source of her pain, grimacing before looking up to her. "The leather armour's just not covering you right, is it?"
"I am used to it," she says simply. "The way it is made..."
The other woman shakes her head, then something seems to occur to her. "Alistair?" Morgana calls. "Have we still got the chainmail?"
He shrugs one of their two packs off his back with a sigh. "Unfortunately, yes." He has been remarking on the weight of their supplies recently; perhaps she should mention it...
Morgana frowns at Leliana's injury, exhales, and then, with a stretch of her fingers, familiar light is gathering round the wound, closing the skin. "Thank you," Leliana says, smiling.
Morgana shakes her head, replying, "It's not an inconvenience. You're starting to sound like Alistair." Then the mage walks to the pack, looking through it, and after plenty of rustling and even a few clangs, lifts a slightly battered armour set out. "It was meant to be a spare for me..." The other woman looks over her petite form, grimacing and saying apologetically, "It, er, may be a little loose."
The armour is dropped in her hands, and she examines it, an eyebrow raised, memories of doing the same in Orlais rising in her mind; she instinctively slips into the old, comfortable tongue before she realizes it, murmuring, "Bon qualité." She looks up anxiously, knowing the average Fereldan's reaction to spoken Orlesian, but Morgana is just biting her lip, seeming to be thinking something over. She asks, frowning, "'Good quality'?"
Leliana nods with a smile. "Indeed it is. Did they...?"
Morgana shakes her head, a nervous half-laugh escaping her. "Ohh no. Tower mages still considered themselves Fereldan mages, even if Ferelden didn't want them. Wouldn't have been caught dead teaching Orlesian. A guess."
"Ah." She begins to move towards the trees. "But an educated one."
Morgana gives her a smile, then says to Alistair, "Speaking of new armour..."
He nods. "Definitely. I think this is beginning to fall apart." He look down at himself in despair. "I've had this since I Joined, and it was secondhand then..." He sighs. "I don't think it was made with a Blight in mind."
As Morgana circles him, frowning, at times crouching to find a precise worn spot, he raises his eyes to the sky, pretending not to cringe, and Morrigan mutters something behind them.
Leliana laughs watching the scene, shaking her head, then turns and ducks into the trees to change, glad to be in the company of friends.
Well, and the witch.