#claudine:verse:post-blight

[skyheld]

@mercysought asked:   ❝And what’s more, *you* know how we know. Which means there’s a lot of damn knowing around this table, right here.❞ from loane to claudine

The Wardens smell.

The iron of blood and armour,  the sweet and sour of weeks-old sweat,  the dry dust of the road,  the whisper of taint in their veins.   It’s duty they smell of,  Claudine thinks,  wrinkling her nose.   It’s duty and hard work;  it’s dishonour and repentance and sacrifice.   It’s pity and pitifulness.   The odour has seeped into the walls of this place,  has sunk into the floorboards,  has settled in the curtains that keep out the wind and the faded tapestries reminiscent of the noble patrons who gifted them.   Even the chairs,  even this table,  even the maps and books on top of it.   The Wardens smell and their keep smells like them.

The casteless woman is no different.   Surface-born,  Claudine guesses,  not that she actually knows;  she assumes she would recognize someone born in Orzammar,  that even if they too were casteless they’d have some sort of...  stone-ness to them.   Gorim has it,  and so has Claudine,  of course  ---  anything else is unthinkable.   The woman in front of her doesn’t.   There’s nothing to her at all.   Just that smell.

Claudine sinks back in her seat,  insolently at ease in her lavishly embroidered doublet,  her posture quite the opposite to the solemn wardens leaning over the map.   She doesn’t much like leaning against the stuffed back of the chair,  which is so old it’s impossible to tell what colour the fabric once was and has probably served as a home for several families of mice while the keep has stood empty.   But she does like showing she doesn’t care for any of this warden business.   She hopes it rattles them.   She hopes it makes them as angry as being considered one of them makes her.

Her smile is a dagger,  poison dripping from her teeth.

“ If you speak of my  ‘ ability ‘  to sense the darkspawn,  Warden---  what was it?   Sloane?   Then I’m afraid I must make you disappointed.   I heard so much about it,  and yet I never felt more than a slight tingle every now and then.   I suppose if you’re really sure the darkspawn are on the move we ought to do something about it.   But it seems an awful big risk to take because some of you feel a little under the weather. “

She eyes the wardens around the table,  not wrinkling her nose,  but almost,  so they can see she’s making an effort not to do it.   When she moves to sling a leg over ther armrest,  so her snofleur-leather boot catch the candlelight,  her own scent fills the room  ---  the opulent rose,  the arrogant lily-of-the-valley and the bold marjoram of her perfume.   Claudine smells,  but not like a Warden.   She refuses.

“ I mean,  with the state of this keep  ---  are you certain it’s not something you ate?   I did not touch the stew served yesterday,  but I’m sure all of you did.   Perhaps what you’re sensing is the cook trying to cheapen rations with rat meat. “