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Who: Lavellan
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: On the Red Fish
When: Now!

[ When the feed comes on, the woman featured mostly looks... Awkward, and unsure of herself. It takes her a moment to realise her pressing buttons worked, and then she brightens, leaning forward so that her face is in the camera a little more. She's trying, but modern technology is still a bit of a leap for her, despite knowing how to use it thanks to her augment. It's foreign, but she's doing her best. ]

Andaran atish’an. My name is Leilani of Clan Lavellan - I was told there were other elves here, from Thedas. I was hoping to meet them, if I could? It's not necessary, of course, but...

[ But she does rather want to be with her people right now, or some of them, if she can. She doesn't feel particularly comfortable and she thinks she has reason enough to feel on edge, all things considered.

Hopefully, no one will notice her lack of vallaslin. She's not in the mood. She seems to steel herself, at least, and something settles as she sits up. ]

I'd be glad to speak to anyone else, as well, especially if I can be given more information about this place. I would appreciate it. Ma serannas.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I am on the Wonderduck. We could meet here, or we could take advantage of the Iskaulit. I was recently told there are parks there that have real plants. I've been meaning to seek them out.

One can be only be surrounded by metal and stone for so long.

I think I would like to go and see the plants. [ It's not the same as being home, or the garden in the Inquisition, but... ] Shall I meet you there in ten minutes?

That sounds perfect. Ten minutes.

Dareth shiral.

[When he disconnects he fusses with his prosthetic for a bit, wondering if he should put a glove on it to make it less obvious that it's a fake arm, but eventually he makes the choice to pretend it's not a big deal. He still makes it to the ship on time and looks around for another elf.]

[ It doesn't take her too long to get there, and when she arrives she wanders around for a moment, searching. An elf is easy to find in a strange place like this, however, and when her eyes land on Cyril she breathes out for a moment. The Anchor on her hand sparks. ]

... Cyril?

[Cyril's eyes instantly lower to look at the green light. His hand unconsciously moves to his upper arm, holding the spot where the prosthetic begins. For a second he's visibly shaken, but he swallows it and forces the emotion down before looking back up at her face.

He hadn't imagined her lack of markings. She is bare faced. He doesn't comment on it, because knows that it can be shameful to not have been able to withstand the vallaslin. That doesn't stop him from wondering, if just for a moment, if her version of the Keeper had sent her away because of it.

He has no way of knowing the knowledge that Solas gave her in that grove.]

Well met. Did you want to talk while we seek out the park I mentioned?

[ It is impossible not to note the loss of his arm, and the prosthetic that has taken its place, and she doesn't know what to do or say for a short moment. She quickly realises that this is more than just a little bit rude and she blinks, shaking her head and gathering herself, standing a little taller and holding her head up.

She is the Inquisitor, after all; she is the Herald, even if she denied the title to the end. She knows that she is strong, that she has survived when others had not. That means she can steel herself.

Lavellan does smile, though, bowing her head and offering that in greeting. ]

To you as well. That sounds like a good idea. [ She steps up to walk at his side, careful. ] Have you been here long?

[He has some vague idea where to find it, but he supposes they can always stop and ask for directions.]

Not long at all, barely a week longer than you.

Do you mind if I ask what year it is for you back home? For me, it's 9:45 Dragon.

They must be desperate for elves.

[ Haha, she's trying to be funny and it falls flat. ]

It was 9:44 Dragon. The Exalted Council had been called. You're from the future?

[Cyril presses his lips together and doesn't quite answer her question because there are more pressing matters.]

This may seem an invasive question, Inquisitor but I feel it is important to consider for the safety of space travel... How far along is your anchor's degeneration?

[He can just imagine what that might end up looking like. He can remember the blinding light that had surrounded him, his friends cries of pain as it hit them. That would be extremely dangerous in a closed space like one of the ships.]

You wouldn't be the first person to question it.

[ She breathes out, glancing down at her hand. ]

It's killing me. Solas stopped it, for a little while, but I woke up here before he could do anything about it.

[ Like... Remove it. She knew that was what was coming, but... Was is possible here? Was it even safe? ]

You saw Solas? Did he speak to you? Did he tell you about the mark, and the elvhen people?

Yes? [ But, wait - ] You know?

[ And then something clicks. The arm, the knowledge, the understanding... She breathes out. ]

You... You're like me.

[ If Riona hadn't told her about the two Champions it might have been a leap, but... ]

[Cyril nods once, affirming her revelation.]

If what you mean is that I was raised by Clan Lavellan, sent to the Conclave by the Keeper, heard Divine Justina's cries, interrupted the ritual to sacrifice her, ended up with a glowing green mark in my hand, and eventually felt that mark's magic climb from my hand to my wrist to the bones in my arm... then yes. We are alike. [He says all of this with a casual sort of tone and offers her a small smile meant to show that he's not bitter or angry or anything, it's just the fact of their lives.]

What I don't understand is why Fen'Harel left it with you. He said none could weld the magic but him and live. Are... we different there?

[Had she somehow found a way to hold the magic without it taking her life? Or was she still facing that future death? That was a worrying though. He got the impression it would be a terrible way to go.]

[ It's - it should be easier to process, she thinks, all things considered, but it still floors her. She breathes out a sharp noise and shakes her head, staring down at her mark and swallowing. It was just as she had feared; she was not as unique as she had thought, as he had thought, stories and myths come to life in the title of 'Inquisitor'. ]

Then you know. You understand who he is.

[ What he is. Closing her eyes, she swallows the sudden rush of panic. ]

No, he meant to take it. I woke up here before it was gone, though, so maybe whoever brought me here stopped it, or did something. It still hurts just the same.

[ There's a sudden rush of panic, however, and she steps forward. ]

Did he - what did he say to you? Did you promise to hurt him, or stop him?

[His brow narrows a bit, but it's really hard to tell what emotion is behind it.]

Solas is my friend. I care very much for him. He has a worthy cause in bringing back our people. He's misguided in that cause, yes, and he needs to be stopped before he destroys the world but I would never harm one of my friends.

[ It's obvious that she's relieved, and some of the tension seeps out of her shoulders. She didn't want to deal with more people who truly wanted Solas to die - most of her friends already felt that way, and Cole had been near enough her only solace. ]

I thought the same way. He wants to do the right thing, to help us, but he's doing it in the worst possible way. [ But, carefully - ]

He was your friend?

[ Just your friend, she means. ]

Yes...

[Then, after a moment, because he knows how delicate this subject can be,] Was he more to you?

Yes.

[ That must be why this Inquisitor has vallaslin and she does not. She bows her head, uncomfortable. ]

He was ma vhenan.

I am so sorry, lethallan.

[He feels a sorrow for her that he can't fully explain. Maybe because he perhaps had felt some deep connection with Solas himself and part of him is still grieving that. It may just be because he can imagine all that she has gone through without having the person you love turn out to be the one who caused it all on top of that.

The emotion even makes him use the familiar term without realizing. They might both be Lavellan, but he doesn't know her well enough to have used it otherwise.]

Ma serannas, lethallin. There is nothing to be done now.

[ Lavellan shakes her head, breathing out. There is no way for her to undo the damage that Solas had done, even as he still holds a huge place in her heart. She cannot move forward with harming nor hurting him, not when she loved him so desperately.

The term comes back instantly; it's natural, to respond in kind to her people.

Lifting her head, she looks over at him, careful. ]

He did not tell you about vallaslin before he left, did he?

He did not. Is that why...

[He doesn't want to say the words 'you face is bare' to her. That seems so rude.]

What did he tell you?

Why they are gone? Yes.

[ Stupid, foolish Solas, keeping some secrets and telling others. Should she feel lucky to have been told, or furious that he had put this on her shoulders and no one else's? ]

He told me that they were slave markings. Nobles would mark their slaves to honour the God they chose to worship.

The Evanuris? That's how they branded their slaves?

[So much seems to click into place.] That explains the murals on the walls of Fen'Harel's temple, doesn't it? Solas was against slavery. He freed them. He...

[He had been caught up in the academics of the thing, that it takes a moment for the emotionally impact to land.]

He freed you.

[There's no anger or jealousy there, just a bit of awe. He can't imagine caring like that for someone.]

Yes. Or how the people serving them branded them, to honour the Evanuris.

[ It's wonderfully academic, of course, and if it hadn't been so personal she would have flourished and loved the very idea of understanding the nature of elven heritage, but the problem was that it was incredibly personal. He had come and taking her markings from her, left her bare and embarrassed and alone, and then he had turned from her.

He had broken her, surely. ]

Ar lasa mala revas. [ Lavellan shakes her head. ] He took them from me and then he left me. It is not the gift you imagine it to be.

[Instantly he does realize it had been the wrong way to think of it and bows his head a bit in apology.]

No. You're right. [He sighs.] I know a bit what it is like for him to take something from you and leave, but I don't know what it's like to love someone like that.

I can't imagine what you're going through.

You can vent to me, though. If you need.

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