#I just kinda set this after DA2 and the start of inquisition so -handwaves- general time

[emwrcte]

𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗖𝗔𝗟𝗟 | Accepting | @hawkc

𝙎𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙮𝙖 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙖𝙣 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙧. Too fringe to be Dalish, too Dalish to be a city-elf. Her traditions were old, and simultaneously not traditional enough. She was praised and thanked by the Dalish for granting them land, yet settle in it. She was Elven. Foreign to all but her people who made their home deep within the Hundred Pillars, a relic of an age long past and a people now fractured beyond repair. To all but a few, she is a name in a textbook. Irrelevant after her deeds during the Fifth Blight. Her honorific more than her name or her face; but this suites her just fine.

It has been over a decade since that time, and has felt every hour of her age. Dreams plague her sleep  faces haunt her; the only demons able to assail her soul those which do not exist in the fade. A different kind of blight assaults the people she once was prepared to die for. Bound by solemn oath, she had made her way along worn she had not seen in near eleven years. And that is when she meets the stranger, on the road from Kirkwall. 

He is a mage, like her and also not. Traveling the road in silence, merely going the same direction until nightfall and rain forced their shelter. She opens merely with a question of his origin, and his destination. He gets to the first part, and she pauses. Lothering. She recalls not what it was like when she arrived, but what she found when the horde was done. Her hands stop, unease causing a gentle placement of the kindling next to the embers of flame as the fire became stoked. She does not hear his answer in regards to his destination over the voices that cannot speak yet echo nonetheless in her mind. But his face is unfamiliar to her.

 〞I know of the place. Ir abelas, Shemlen ( I'm sorry, quick child ). 〞Her voice indicates no desire to return, however. Moreover, her speech sets her apart from most southern Dalish instantly, the pronunciation of Elven different entirely. And spoken with different understanding. It is literal; even 'Shemlen' spoken with true intent. The tongue is fluid, and leaves her with grace and ease Common does not. 〞May the Gods rest the souls of her people. You have my deepest prayers. But I must beg your forgiveness, and ask you repeat yourself. Where was it you said you were destined? The past clouded my mind, for but a moment.  〞