001

[viran]

Who: Mahna Lavellan
Broadcast: Fleet-wide
Action: Marsiva, if you'd like
When: Pre-shuffle

[By the time he's sorted out that he's no longer in Thedas, Mahna's patience has all but run out. The silence had woken him and the continued lack of birds chattering or insects buzzing unsettles him far more than he expects. Instead, inane music plays under his strained voice.]

I am Lord Inquisitor Lavellan and it would serve you well to return my companions to me.

[He hates titles, hates formality, but if it gets his comrades back, he'll throw them around as much as necessary. Nevermind that he's in a foreign place where 'Lord Inquisitor' might just as easily put a target on his back. If Corypheus is behind this, he won't run and hide.]

I was traveling with three others and a ram: Dorian of House Pavus, Lady Mai Bhalsych of Korse, The Iron Bull of the Bull's Chargers, and Lord Woolsley of Redcliffe. If any harm has come to them, I can assure you it will be repaid in kind.

Comments

[viran]

[For a moment, Mahna can almost pretend like he's home in Skyhold, talking with Dorian about something he himself doesn't understand. In conversations like these, he would do his best to catch everything, to nod along as the mage talked, but when Mahna inevitably couldn't, he sat back and simply enjoyed the other's company. And yet, Mahna can't shake the foreign sensation snaking through his chest, screaming lost, lost lost with every beat of his heart. He desperately wants to be able to speak intelligently on the subject, but he only knows bare bones from his brief jaunt through time. Something happens at Point A, something else happens at Point B, but it still seems too random, too coincidental than conscious choice. After all, with so many to choose from--- the Hero of Ferelden, Hawke--- why would any deity so much as look in the direction of a hunter who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time?

For now, he will at least attempt to reply in something resembling logic, though he's not confident of it himself.] But you are all connected, are you not? Like... Like a net? If the anchor is a weight placed in the center, any rocks nearby flow toward it. They are not chosen, they are drawn by coincidence.

[Unless the rocks fall through the holes in the net? Alright, so he doesn't understand Dorian's sentiment one bit, but Mahna's far too proud to admit it. He's good at stabbing things, talking to rams, and picking plants. Quantum mechanics, no.]