#WHY i ask?? greagoir??? why??? irving has repeatedly asked you for that?? WHY are you not allowing rhodri to use a sylvan branch staff huh?

[heniareth]

Anyways, I ran out of tags, so I’m gonna continue this here! :D

The measurements for Spellpower and mana inefficiency are so cool!!! So spellpower basically encompasses the strength and duration of the spell and mana inefficiency the amount of mana lost as light, sound or heat during the casting of a spell? I love it! It really reframes the way we’d approach spellcasting as having a physical component as well as an intellectual one. After all, those measurements look a lot like something you’d see in P.E. classes, less like something from math classes. I’m guessing there’s an intellectual component to it, and having a solid grasp on the theory of how magic and mana and spellcasting works probably makes the spellcasting itself easier, but it’s not the end of it. In DAI, there’s banter between Dorian and Solas were they talk about how they manipulate the Veil to create magical effects and it does sound very hands-on. So I love that the evaluation method reflects that. You could have your standard high school plot of the 2000s-2010s happening at Kinloch Hold. Nerd mage asks Jock mage if they can help them increase their spellcasting prowess and offer to help them with the theory in return! This is amazing and I’m glad the ask gave way to have you figure out these things.

Also Rhodri tutoring the younger kids. It’s nice that, as far away as she was from her family, she got a chance to still live a bit of family life with the younger apprentices (until Broken Circles. Fuck. The templars. And Uldred).

Also also: the Tevinter letterheads. Oooooooh it’s so cool. An all official-sounding paper and it’s a tercet from one spouse to the other. It wamrs my heart. Also, it says a lot that Rhodri would use this sort of paper. I can imagine Dorian using everything BUT paper with that letterhead except when he absolutely has to XD XD XD XD I also love that Owen gets his own letterhead. Every member of house Callistus is important and has their own stationary. Yes, the nine-year-old is included in this, he absolutely needs his own stationary as well. I love that

I’m cackling over here at Zevran not only organizing this whole bet to get his hands on the tercet (which, oh Rhodri XD XD XD XD Don’t tell this man you wrote a love poem only to then not want to show him XD XD XD XD Also RHODRI IS A POET??? RHODRI IS A POET!!! I remember what you said about Tevinter and the arts (namely that Tevinters don’t really do hobbies or arts & crafts since these are things they could very easily purchase) and the fact that Rhodri pens her thoughts down as a poem sometimes, and especially if those thoughts are about Zevran, surely does things to Zevran’s heart)

...

Where was I? Oh yes. Not only does Zevran organize this whole bet to get his hands on the tercet, but he hides grapes in his pockets. Evil, evil man!! I’m guessing Rhodri doesn’t like grapes (or is it a throwback to that time Zevran was bored on the road and started throwing grapes at Rhodri?) Anyways, what a poem. Unflinching devotion paired with a complicated religious life. That Rhodri decides the Maker doesn’t exist so she doesn’t discharge all of her rage and grief over her friends during Broken Circle at him does things to me. It’s heartbreaking (and practical, I guess, but idk. Maybe getting real angry and screaming at the sky would’ve been a bit cathartic?). I hope Leliana (or Wynne) didn’t do too much poking on the matter. But really, how do you deal with this kind of pain when it’s doen by the servants of “your” god who supposedly left the world to its devices because rational beings were too sinful for him? And, and, Rhodri, as the head of a house is in a similar position to the Maker (although on a much smaller scale); and the Maker fails by most of her standards. What kind of person leaves his place as the head of the house bc he just can’t deal with the people he’s leading?

That Zevran’s faith is something she considers admirable though? That. That gets me. Of course, Zevran knows better than to pressure her on the matter, bless him. But... what an example does he have to set, what an experience does he have to communiacte that Rhodri sees something good about worshipping the Maker. It speaks volume about Zevran’s influence on her, the way he lives his faith and the high regard in which Rhodri holds him. I love it. Simply love it. Zevran probably knows Rhodri’s conflict with the Maker, right? That poem must’ve either sent the biggest grin to his face or made him tearful. Maybe both.

Also: Sēvē and Zēvē XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD Marvellous! They should get matching shirts XD XD XD XD Or aprons. This whole family has a wicked sense of humor XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD

Also!!!!!! The gif lets me imagine Owen so well with the mop of ginger hair, quietly working on his plants (what ARE Rhodri’s favorite plants is the question). I hope he and Rhodri get to spend lots of time in the greenhouse once Rhodri gets back.

This was an amazing read!! I apologize for being late in my answer, but my crops have been watered, fertilized, de-weeded and blessed by these lovely codexes. I also haven’t forgotten about the ones you sent me; they’re in the works. Hoooooo boy, so many great things have come out of this XD XD XD XD XD XD Thank you heaps!!

Hello my wonderful and lovely friend!!! I come, as I am wont to do, with questions for splendidissima Rhodri from the OC Codex prompts:

2. a letter written by your OC’s family member

3. a report written by your OC’s teacher or mentor

4. a letter from your OC to their love interest

Now, I don't know if you will spend these days celebrating or not, but they seem to be busy days for anybody regardless. Please take as much time as you like and pick whichever tickle your fancy. And have some lovely, lovely days. Off I go!

OH HI HEY ! 8D 8D Good to see you and thank you for sending in the prompts!! I had such a great time with these, both of my braincells were working overtime and it was a joy!

Owing to spacing and the sheer volume of the answers I'm sticking all this under the cut. I'd apologise but we both know I don't mean it x) x) x)

so o o o 2. A letter written by your OC's family member Here's one from Rhod's younger brother, Owen. Heirs aren't allowed to have favourites, but suffice it to say she and Owen had easy and natural compatibility. He was nine-ish and Rhodri would've been twelve.

The paper is bleached, high-quality Tevinter vellum, bearing a template header in red ink, reading in Tevene rune script, EX SCRIBIO CALLISTANI SPIRI (“From the desk of Spiro Callistanus”). At the top right of the page, the date 13 Justinian, 9:22 Era Drakonis is added in the same wobbly runic script in the rest of the letter. The language of writing is Tevene.

I love you Sēvē,

My birthday was good but sad without you, and thank you for my greenhouse. Mazarin and Evander aren’t allowed inside because they break everything now. Bethann sits with me in there sometimes but not for long. 

School is hard but Tata says it gets easier with time. When you come back we can go together. I think that would make it better. Mazarin and Evander are too loud and they don’t sit with me any more. Do you know any plant spells? Please write all of them down so I can learn them when my magic comes. And please tell me your favourite three plants. Mine are ivy, snake kiss, and butterleaf.

Please write lots more soon.

And I love you, from Owen your brother.

-

Author's notes:

Callistanus- ‘of’ House Callistus, the name given to non-heir family members. An heir is the house, the non-heirs are the members of said house. ‘Callistani is Callistanus in genitive (possessive- I know you know this; clarifying for other potential readers) case. Owen's Tevene name is Spiro, Spiri in genitive form.

The Callistanus/Amell kids did not cope well with Rhodri being taken to the Circle. Not least because they were an arm’s length away when the Kirkwall Templars were beating her to a pulp.  Mazarin and Evander, who already tended to be loud and demanding, became destructive and disruptive, and both of them developed explosive tempers that proved hard to pacify.  Bethann, the youngest and most sensitive sibling, suffered frequent meltdowns that required many years to identify causes for and address.  Owen, the middle child, was always quiet and courteous. The adults in his life, amid attending to his louder, needier siblings, frequently ‘checked in’ on him, and they would have used all the resources they had to attend to any need he might have, but if he said he was doing fine (he always did), they left it at that and assumed he was content to keep to himself. Rhodri had always made a point of keeping him by her side and giving him plenty of one-on-one attention even if he was ‘fine,’ and he soaked that up like a sponge. After she was taken away, though, and the other siblings proved to be very squeaky wheels, there was nobody to fill the gap in those childhood to early teen years. Owen ended up rather neglected, and horribly lonely, and hid it, even lied about it, to everyone but Rhodri for years. Consequently, Owen tends to have a low opinion of himself, and is disinclined to seek out something, however badly he might want it. He does a lot better once Rhodri's back, and certainly once his folks found out (to their unrestricted horror) how neglected he had felt, they did their darnedest to make it up to him as well. But Rhod's return was really what cemented that improvement.

§

On to 3. a report written by your OC's teacher and mentor

I liked this question because I like the idea of there being a very specific, Chantry-determined format to a progress report, filled with formalities that ostensibly show some level of "civility" between the Templars and the mages. Plus, grading system? How do the mages measure success? So many questions!! Thank you for making me think of the answers!! -

The paper is bleached, blank vellum of middle to high quality, with the standard Circle progress report template already written in with black ink. Irving’s handwriting is a neat cursive that is no longer taught in the Circles. -

Date: 7 Eluviesta, 9:21 Dragon

Tutor name and rank: Irving, F.E.

Apprentice name; age; specialisation: Rhodri S. C. Amell// 10 y.o.// Arcane Magic

Progress report number, AYTD: 2

Presenting compliments to the Knight-Commander and having the honour to report:

Following the discovery of lyrium affliction in early Verimensis 9:22, Rhodri Amell has completed three months of compensatory meditation and distraction management training. Spellpower has improved significantly, as has spell duration (Max. 4; 10s per HS); mana inefficiency has also decreased (less est. 2.5, now 5.5). Continuation of the program recommended indefinitely.

Despite her progress, Rhodri’s temper outbursts are increasing in frequency during lessons proper. I reiterate to the Knight-Commander my suspicion that these arise from the elemental damage and consequent pain in her hands from unsafe proximity to trained mana, particularly as her affliction prevents her from wearing the requisite enchanted safety gloves. As per my last reports, I strongly recommend that my apprentice be permitted to use a sylvan branch staff to prevent more of the same; responding to outbursts with punishment has proved manifestly unhelpful and I continue to urge its cessation to the Knight-Commander with the greatest emphasis.

I note that Rhodri continues to tutor beginner students in her free time. E. Delilah has anecdotally mentioned better performance in this cohort in comparison to Delilah’s previous cohort, and has advised willingness to allow my apprentice to shadow her for some classes. With assistance in managing the change in schedule, I anticipate further progress for all concerned.

Reiterating assurances to the Knight-Commander of my highest consideration.

Irving, F.E. 

-

Author's notes on abbreviations and measurements - AYTD: Academic year to date - Spellpower scale is from 0 (not casting) to 10 (Destruction of a single room - HS- healing spell (in this case spell duration measures how long the intended effects persist until the spell is cut off or wears off on its own) - Mana inefficiency scale measures how much unformed mana escapes when a spell is cast, from 0 (no mana lost) to 10 (all, or almost all mana escaped). .

§

And 4: A letter from your OC to their love interest!

The author's notes are long so I'd better just get to it:

The paper is bleached, high-quality Tevinter vellum, bearing a template header in red ink, reading in Tevene rune script, EX SCRIBIO CALLISTI SEVERIN (“From the desk of Severin Callistus”). At the top right of the page, the date 11 Pluitanis, 9:35 Era Drakonis is written in sharp, austere letters, as is the rest of the content. The language of writing is Common, with the exception of the tercet, which is in Tevene.

Dulcis,

I pen this letter to you with all my love and, in adherence to the conditions set by your challenge:

I admit that I stand corrected: pickpocketing is very difficult and is not “something I could do as easily as blinking.” (I will say, however, that hiding grapes in the pocket you were keeping the coins was entirely unnecessary. It feels like those bastard Void fruits are hiding everywhere, now.)

With great embarrassment, I enclose a reproduction of the tercetus I so foolishly admitted to writing and frankly, my love, I am starting to think you organised this whole bet so you could get your hands on it.  . In vitae finite stabit Formator ton, et querisit "A Incredule, quemisi exultum mihim offerti?" Et respondit humilite, "Ton Zevran, Sanctus amade" .

I must say, my love, I’m enjoying writing to you even though you’re right beside me. I think I’d like to do this more often– though hopefully with fewer tercetae. Maybe I could hang short missives off your Friday flowers. What do you think?

Also, please let me know if you would like to go to the Sidereal Telescopium tomorrow. Quirina is giving a speech on the upcoming New Constellations Room, and I have many questions for them.

My whole heart to you,

Severin (Rhodri). -

Author’s notes:

Tercetus- a traditional Tevene-style three-line rhyming poem.

A rough translation: At the end of life I will stand before your Maker, and he will ask me "You, Unbeliever, tell me– what worship did you ever offer me?" And I will say, simply and earnestly, "Holy Immortal, I loved Your Zevran."

Rhod’s got a complicated religious life. She started okay; the family wasn’t especially pious but they did Chantry things at the frequency considered respectable. Once she landed in Kinloch Hold, though, her prevailing question, for which never received a satisfactory answer, was: “If the Maker can do anything, and He loves us, why does he let us suffer? I wouldn’t do that, and I’m a child, nto a god.” After Broken Circle, she refused to believe the Maker existed, as a consolation to herself, and to avoid the sort of vengeful blasphemy that gets you hung, drawn, and quartered. There’s something about Zevran’s patient faith, though, and his willingness to offer thanks that he has what he has, however miserable his life has been. It’s impressively staunch, and Rhodri admires that, and treasures the comfort it brings him, enough that she slowly comes around to her idea of a compromise. Said compromise is acknowledging that if the Maker exists, He is as capable at unleashing bitter cruelty as He is at creating boundless joy. Rhod’s not one to praise bad behaviour in anyone, let alone a god who should know better, but by golly He did everyone a good turn when He made Zevran. Maybe age will bring other wisdom, but for now, she lets her love for Zevran be her tentative worship, because it’s the only praise she can offer in earnest. Though idk, what better compliment is there for a creator than someone wholeheartedly adoring their creation?  I like to think it’s enough for the time being. A religious journey isn’t always straightforward but I always found that complications bring their own insights.

I have no idea why Rhodri signs off her letters to Zevvo as ‘Severin (Rhodri).’ They agreed early on never to use the Tevene name to avoid the ridiculousness that comes with similar-sounding names (it gets especially bad when the siblings give him the Tevene-ised nickname Zēvē when they’re already calling Rhodri Sēvē. Agony!) Same deal with Owen signing off letters to her as “Owen your brother”. Must be hereditary.

Also I'm not sure about how ok it is to use Artbreeder generated images what with the art theft things going around now (I'm not sure where it stands on that sort of thing) so I'll leave out the artbreeder portrait I have of Owen. For a face claim, though, this feller here is pretty close (though I grant you Simon Wood is unlikely to be 9yo in this gif). Token ginger of the Amell-Callistus brood, what's up!

[capriswritingnartshenanigans]

I Remember You: Chapter 1, The Inquisition.

Cullen Rutherford/Female Amell Inquisitor slow burn.

Carrie’s dreams tend to have two trends, and this time, she gets the ‘relive your memories you try to hide from’ trend, and again remembers why she doesn’t get attached to people. She wakes up soon after, to find out she is in Haven... And revered as some sort of holy person. And then, she is faced with a choice, an important choice that she has to decide the reasoning for answer: will she do it for herself? For others? Or for survival?

Catch Chapter 1 here: https://capriswritingnartshenanigans.tumblr.com/post/172406242751/i-remember-you-prologue

Catch this story on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14145420/chapters/32624604

           Once again, she was lost to the darkness. She knew she was sleeping, dreaming; she was always able to tell, even when she was a child. Her dreams swirled and shivered violently in her mind, ripping her past from the depths she had buried it and into the forefront. Her mind spun, trying to follow the path her memories set.

The first thing she recognized was the times she was in so many different mage towers, always being moved to somewhere new within a few months. Until she ended up at the Fereldan circle. It was one of the lesser known circles, and one of the least strict ones. She remembers Irving welcoming her there, promising safety, as had every first enchanter she had met thus far. Knight-Commander Greagoir had also been there, not as friendly but still kind in a way. He warned against revealing her true reasoning for being there, even to other templars, and to not cause trouble; just because she was special, it did not mean she was exempt from punishments. And with that, they had turned her loose in the Tower, stating she was an apprentice that had been living in a small town that lacked a form of the Chantry. She sees, through her own eyes and those around her, how different she became from getting there till some time later. She hadn’t trusted this safety could last, but it did longer than any other place she had been. She had friends, both templar and mage, for the first time, as well as some feeling of belonging. Sure, she would rather be free, but with how that went last time… She wanted this peace to last.

A few months after she had come there, rumors had started filtering through the templar barracks and the mage dorms about her… and a certain templar friend of hers. It came to a head sometime after her Harrowing, no doubt because someone had seen her flirt with him, and though she had meant her flirts, she didn’t honestly think anything would come of it. In truth, it had been rather cute when Cullen ran off and away from her. Disappointing for sure, but cute.

He had found her later, still rather red in the face, asking about their usual evening chess match. She remembers his eyes rarely meeting hers, but there was a near constant little smile on his lips. The memory fades away into her nightmare of the Tower, of demons pouring out of someplace there, of her fellow mages being turned into abominations, as well as the templars. She remembers waking in a cold sweat, then running to Irving and waking him before dawn’s light, to tell him of it. His face turns pale, his dark eyes wide with disbelief. He tells her to wait there, he must go and find the Knight-Commander, they all must speak of this. But she doesn’t wait there, she knows they’ll send her away ‘just to be safe’, so she runs. She runs down a full flight of stairs, looking, searching, and then she remembers where he is: posted to one of the doors to the outside of the tower, and that is where she goes, needing to speak with him. He is preparing to leave from his shift, and she waits, though she knows she has little time. As he came towards where she was, she popped out from behind the wall she had hid behind. She had startled him but didn’t give him much time to speak; she just ushered him to follow her, telling him there is something they must speak of, to please come. He’s hesitant, knowing he most likely shouldn’t, but she had never acted out before and a part of him doubts that she would hurt him, so he follows her. She leads him to an empty room on the second floor, lighting a candle as she closes the door. Her face is pale, her night clothes clinging to her with sweat.

“Carrie? Carrie, are you… are you alright?” His voice is filled with concern, and it seems he’s removed his helmet as his voice is no longer muffled. Her gray-blue eyes flicker between his face and the floor many times before finally settling on him. She came towards him slowly, shaking her head slightly.

“I-I’m fine. I had a very bad nightmare, it’s why I’m roaming the halls. I wanted… I wanted to talk to you.” Her hands were gripping her forearms very tightly, causing her already pale skin to become white. “I’m worried something will happen in the next few days, something bad… But I don’t know for sure. I don’t know, I just don’t…” She ran her hands through her hair, its light brown locks curling around her fingers. Cullen came towards her, gently taking her forearms into his hands and pulled her to look at him. His face was beginning to line with worry, and his forehead appeared crinkled.

“Carrie, what in the name of Andraste are you talking about? Do you know something? Something the mages are planning?” She shook her head, a look of confusion and hopelessness on her frightened face. She gripped the sides of his breastplate in her hands, her eyes suddenly burning into his.

“Promise me something, Cullen. Promise me, that if anything happens, you’ll make it out. You’ll keep yourself safe.” She looked at his in earnest as his lips opened and closed repeatedly, no words leaving him. Then she realized she was running out of time to get back; unsuspiciously, anyway. She looked up into his face for a long moment, thinking of everything that has happened in the year she had been there. Much of the memories included him; templars usually don’t make friends with their mages, but Cullen was young. He wasn’t as bitter as the rest of them, and he was still so innocent. She felt a pang at the realization that she would likely leave here, never to see him again, but pushed it down. She didn’t need to cry here; she would have plenty of time to do that later.

A sudden, rebellious shiver went down her spine, and without thinking, she stood on his booted feet, pulling herself up, and kissed him. In all honesty, it was her first kiss. She had had daydreams of maybe doing something similar with Cullen, but reality always clouded the way; in truth, there would be no hope for them. But, right now, there was this second, a second to do one thing she wanted before she was sent away once more. The kiss was awkward, but in later years she thought of it as sweet; it only lasted a few moments, and he was too surprised to react. She pulled away from him, stumbling backwards off of his boots and out of his slackened hands. He had a look of astonishment on his face, his eyes nearly the size of dinner plates. She didn’t give him time to say anything, however; after looking at him for a split moment, she bolted out of the door, and weaved a path through the tower he would not be able to follow. As she fled back to the third-floor staircase, she heard Cullen calling her name, but she did not answer. That would have just been too much to bear that night.

The memories blurred, threatening to disappear entirely. They finally reshaped into the forms of Carrie, who was now dressed in clothes like those of a merchant; a group of three high-ranking templars, dressed as common mercenaries; and finally, Irving and Greagoir. The First Enchanter and Knight-Commander were giving orders to the templars, telling them to take her to Lothering for the time being, and to await further orders. Carrie climbed into a boat with the group, and they set off across Lake Calenhad, still under the cover of night.

The memories again blurred, then dissolved into darkness once more. A few moments passed before light shone through her eyelids, and the sounds scuttling feet woke her.

Carrie felt soft materials over and under her body. Her eyes slowly opened, taking in the room around her. The walls were made of wood, pelts scattered over them, along with cloth decorations. The place had a cozy feel to it, like a small house for a younger family. Sitting up, she realized the scuttling noise was a young elven girl, who upon realizing Carrie was awake, dropped the crate in her hands with a gasp, her fair features showing worry and fear.

“I-I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!” Her words were full of panic, as though she had been caught with her hand in the sugar.

“It’s okay! Please, don’t worry yourself-” Carrie’s words came to a halt as the girl fell to her hands and knees, in a sort of kneeling bow.

“I beg your forgiveness and blessing. I-I am but a humble servant. You are back in Haven, my lady. They say-” As the girl had been talking, Carrie had gotten out of the bed and quietly made her way over to her. She kneeled down and smiled kindly.

“You do not have to bow to me. Please, stand up. We are both people, yes?” The girl’s face was shocked, but she slowly stood with Carrie. Her face was flushed a deep red color, and it clashed rather awkwardly with her auburn hair. “Now then, what were you saying?”

“U-Um, well, the-the soldiers say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, j-just like that mark on your hand.” The mark flickered green for a moment, then returned to normal. “I-It’s all anyone has talked about for three days!”

“So… now I get my trial, I suppose…” At least, they’ll try to put her on trial. Unfortunately for most of them, they don’t know just how good she is at getting loose.

“I-I don’t know anything about that. I-I’m certain Lady Cassandra would want to know you’ve wakened. She said, ‘At once’.” The girl was backing towards the door nervously, clearly wanting to report to one of her mistresses.

“And where is Cassandra?”

“I-In the chantry, with the lord chancellor. ‘At once’, she said!” With that, the girl dashed out of the small cottage, careful to close the door quietly. While Carrie did want to further question the girl, she knew better than to try to keep a servant when they were on a timer; it could get ugly very quickly. So, she instead investigated the cottage. She soon realized she was in an outfit much like night clothes. She searched for her armors, or any really, and found a smaller chest with light armor in it. It included a silky cloak, a darkly colored tunic and breeches, and knee-high black leather boots. Once the garb was on, she noticed a note in the bottom of the chest. On it was just a name: Leliana. It was beautifully written, and on expensive parchment. Chuckling, Carrie shook her head and headed out after the girl.

What she didn’t expect to see was two rows of townsmen standing, almost as though they were waiting on her. As she walked through the path between the two rows, she heard whispering from them: about her being the Herald of Andraste, how Andraste herself helped her from the Fade, and others questioned her imprisonment. Self-consciously, Carrie pulled her hood further over her head, though no one could have seen her features beforehand anyway. She jogged away, trying to appear as though she had somewhere to be getting to, and headed towards the chantry. The thick snow crunched pleasantly under her feet. She hadn’t been in Fereldan in many years, truth be told; she remembers wanting to come back, just to attend the Conclave…

           She shook those thoughts from her head. She’s relived enough bad memories for one day and she really didn’t want to turn into a sobbing mess in front of someone like Cassandra. She hurried up the slightly inclined area, taking any steps she came across two at a time. She passed through a throng of chantry clergymen and women, and into the high, wooden doors. It looked unremarkably like every other chantry she had ever been in, except there were soldiers here instead of templars. Even though she personally had nothing to fear from the Chantry as a whole, it still made her uneasy to pass through one, even now, with all mages being free. She asked one of the lay sisters where Cassandra was, and she was directed to a door all the way at the end of the main hall. As she drew closer, she heard an argument going on behind the door.

           “You’ve gone completely mad! She should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately, to be tried by whomever becomes Divine!”

           “I do not believe she is guilty, Chancello-”

           “The mage failed, Seeker. Ahaha, the Breach is still in the sky. For all you know, she intended for it to be this way.”

           “I do not believe that!”

           “That is not for you to decide. Your duty is to serve the Chantry.”

           “My duty is to uphold the principles on which the Chantry was founded, Chancellor, as is yours.” Not wanting them to become too upset at each other, Carrie pushed open the door with a loud clank. As she walked in, the chancellor from before sneered at her.

           “Chain her! I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial.” Cassandra stood up straight from the position she was in over the central table, shaking her head.

           “Disregard that… and leave us.” The two door guards saluted them, and the walked out, closing the door behind themselves. The chancellor snorted, looking disgusted.

           “You walk a dangerous line, Seeker.”

           “The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat. I refuse to ignore it.” Cassandra had her face very close to his, a dark scowl on her face. Carrie felt as though the tension in the room would take very little to snap, so she chose her words wisely.

           “So… I’m still a suspect? Even after what we just did?” The chancellor turned towards her, another sneer on his face.

           “You absolutely a­-”

           “No, she is not.”

           “But someone is behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others, or… have allies who yet live.” Leliana spoke as she came quietly from around the table’s side, her hips swaying ever so slightly. She had a rather malevolent glare leveled at the chancellor, who now looked miffed.

           “I am a suspect?!”

           “You and many others.” Leliana’s voice had a cold tone to it, and an air of dismissal. The chancellor looked incensed.

           “But not the prisoner?!”

           “I heard the voices at the Temple. The Divine called to her for help.” Cassandra sounded as though all were decided: Carrie was indeed, not guilty. Or, at least, Cassandra thought so as did Leliana.

           “So her survival, that thing on her hand, all a coincidence?” Cassandra shook her head in disagreement.

           “Providence. The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour.” Carrie felt a cold sweat break out over the back of her neck. If the Maker had sent her to help these people, He had one terrible sense of humor. She shouldn’t even be on the list of ‘People Who May Just Save Us All’. Never once has she been able to prevent the things she sees, and if she sees a dark outcome for this? She quickly realized they were waiting for her to speak.

           “I have stabilized the Breach to the best of my ability, or at least that I know of. What more could you want from me?” Cassandra’s eyes flickered from her to the chancellor, to Leliana, then back to her.

           “We must try again.” Cassandra went to another table in the back, and as she moved, Leliana chipped in.

           “The Breach remains, and your mark is still the only hope of closing it.” The chancellor went to speak, but before many words could get out, Cassandra slammed a large, metal and leather book down on the table. It looked centuries old and severely yellowed. Pointing to it, she asked:

           “Do you know what this is, chancellor? A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn. We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order, with or without your approval!” Cassandra walked towards the chancellor as she spoke, easily backing him into his own version of a corner. He looked like a pouting child by the end. His lip formed a snarl, and he left the room, angrily grumbling under his breath.

           “This is the Divine’s directive. ‘Rebuild the Inquisition, of Old, find those who will stand against the Chaos’. We aren’t ready. We have no leader. No numbers and now no Chantry support.” Leliana sounded distressed, and her fingers were almost angry as they traced the book.

           “But we have no choice; we must act now, with you at our side.” Carrie looked between the two, startled. She knew of the Divine’s directive; she had snuck peeks into it before, illegally. She knew just how ruthless people could be to follow it. And, every time she had stood with something, it has had mishaps. Mishaps that costed lives… But she was a part of this now. She had no true choice; who’s to say that rip in the sky and the one in her hand would stay stable? For all she knew of this magic, it could suddenly rip her to pieces should she not take care of it.

           “I will stand with you. As an old friend… and a new ally… May Andraste and the Maker watch over us, because I feel we have a long, dark path ahead of us.”