14 Solace, 9:33
To Dame Maeve,
From Knight-Commander Meredith,
This is the third time I have attempted to write this letter, and by the Maker it shall be the last.
Maeve. I have never received a gift such as what you sent me. I doubt I shall ever again until I stand beside Andraste in the beyond. The armor fits perfectly, and I well believe your claims that you ensured it would be resistant to the weapons that cut me down once before.
You have my undying thanks, and the thanks of my squire for the blade that you sent her.
I must ask when you intend to return to Kirkwall? I have heard you have departed from Ferelden, to sail as a privateer to combat the Qunari and Tevinter heretics. While I applaud your zeal, as always, you are greatly overdo to return.
Sincerely,
Meredith
9 August, 9:33
Paragon of Manliness,
Weve stopped over in Antiva City to sell off our loot on our way up north. Got to say that Maeve took to piracy a lot better than I expected, and so did little Fiolya. They're having a wonderful time, and they've even managed to keep Merrill from spending all of her time in front of her mirror. They say it's coming along nicely, but it's mostly just creepy if I'm being honest.
Fenris has kept his mouth shut about the magical stuff so far, I'm hoping that continues. Mostly he seems to be distracting himself by helping me pick out the main routes Tevinter convoys run, and helping Maeve come up with creative insults for when we go after them.
And no, I still haven't won the damned bet. I think she's mostly accepted what happened, she's flirting with me again, but she's not letting me do anything else.
Send any other letters to Rivain, we're going to use that as our harbor for the fall and winter.
Captain Isabella
20 Kingsway, 9:
To Knight Captain Cullen,
From Arlessa Hawke
Cullen,
Yes, I'm still stuck in Amaranthine, and I'm incredibly offended that it took Maeve sailing off north to get you to write me. Mother is especially upset with you, so you know you're in real trouble. Best send us a nice fruit basket with your next letter.
More seriously, yes, Anora and Allistair gave them a letter of marque, and told them to go wild on Tevinter's shipping as revenge for the fiasco during the Blight. If they went after a few Orlesians between here and there, it wouldn't surprise me in the slightest.
And yes, I desperately wish I'd been able to go with them.
To answer your other questions, no, still no word on Bethany or the ass she fell for. 'Somewhere in Orlais' is all we have to go on. Neither spoke Orlesian, so I figured they'd stand out, but Lelianna insists she hasn't heard anything about them either. If she can't find them, you know they've got somewhere good to hide.
Expecting your next letter much sooner than the last,
Marian Hawke, Arlessa, etc.
12 Harvestmere, 9:33
To Hawke,
From Anders,
Marian, I just heard a rumor from some carta dwarves that a woman matching Morrigan's description was spotted exiting an Elven ruin near Starkhaven, carrying an infant. They insisted it was just her and the babe, no sign of Amell.
I'm riding north to see if I can't get something more concrete, or at least get an idea as to where she's going and where he might be. I'll write you again as soon as I return to Kirkwall.
Anders
Roita-ingóle
To use a mortal phrase, Imshael was becoming a thorn in Longing's side. It was increasingly sure that the Eldest wanted it tethered, just as it had created its own web to lesser spirits. That Imshael wanted it become Choice as it had, so that Imshael could more easily feed off of it.
Longing felt increasingly certain that refusing to try to change its nature that way had been the correct decision.
Of course, that still left Longing with a repeating problem; Imshael was far older, far more powerful than it. The Eldest could find it whenever it wished to harass Longing, to... badger it.
It grew to the point where Longing needed to do something. It's power was growing, yes, but not enough to challenge Imshael. Sooner or later the Elest of its kind would grow bored, would choose to destroy Longing out of irritation at its own refusal to alter itself, to become Choice.
And so Longing plotted. It moved rapidly through dreaming mortals, until it found one that was agreeable.
"Well now." The Mortal Woman spoke, staring at Longing when it accepted the summons. When it emerged. "I can't say I actually expected you to come."
"And I," Longing spoke through its shell's lips, trying to once more become accustomed to the form. "Did not expect a mortal mage to truly accept the deal I offered."
The mortal's lips curled. "Most wouldn't, but Gray Wardens get to avoid the kind of stupidity taught in the Circles. So. A trade. You recount to us what actually happened in the First and Second Blights, help us figure out what tactics actually worked back then. In exchange, you get what you want."
Longing tipped its head, "All of your knowledge on the realm you call the Fade. On spirits, wards, and veils."
"Shouldn't you already know all of that?" The mortal asked, hands dropping to its hips. "Being a spirit and all?"
"I know much, but I am desire, I am Longing." It countered, "I am not wisdom or knowledge, and so I must learn things just as you mortals do. Through time, effort, and exchange."
The mortal seemed to consider that... then shrugged, exhaled, and extended a leg. Breaking the ward holding Longing in place, releasing it to return to the Fade if it wished...
...or allowing it to smile, bow, and remain for a time.
It would teach the mortals, provide for their desires.
They would teach it in return, and provide for its desires.
Only then would it return home, better armed and prepared...
...and perhaps, it would find more answers on how to gain what it truly longed for while it was here.