#fun words

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"Does the Maker not love all of his children?" Leliana's voice cut through a low murmur of the Blight gurgling in Azela Surana's ears. It had been kept at bay in the last months by a steady diet of herbal teas and magic that should probably have stayed buried in the Deep Roads where she first found it.

But it kept her alive. It allowed her to remain a sceptical voice whispering into Leliana's ear whenever she'd allow her fervent faith to run her life's course. Only proven more necessary by the fact that the red-haired bard had gotten herself elected as a new Divine when Surana wasn't looking.

"If he does, he's making it suspiciously unclear to his believers, Leli." She responded, peeling herself away from the ornate window overlooking the private gardens belonging to the Divine.

"But He wishes to deliver His Faith to all the corners of the World, no? How can we forbid some of his Children from serving him?" Leliana leaned back in her chair, open letters piling on her desk. Some of them for Divine Victoria. Some for Nightingale. Just one for Leliana.

It was the only one that mattered really.

"You know how people are about their traditions." Surana circled the massive oak table to sit on top of it. "They don't like changes."

"And you've been nothing but changes, sweet Leliana." Zevran, who'd been leaning against the back wall, his silhouette obscured by the shadows agreed with a cocky smile on his lips, as always. "The Crows still receive requests for your assassination after that last magi brouhaha."

Azela knew that he'd never admit it but he had the best two months of his life causing chaos back in Antiva while cleaning up that mess. Perhaps second best two months, after that time when he terrorized his entire former House and eliminated three different Masters before being satisfied with the new choice. The other three deaths that followed shortly after were absolutely an inside job.

Zevran had vehemently insisted that it was just how it worked. Surana didn't pry. They both knew it was not entirely true.

"The mages deserve to rule themselves." Leliana protested, a reflexive reaction to the thousands of conversations she'd had about this topic before pulling an honest chuckle out of Surana, who had by now made herself fully comfortable on the desk, her feet dangling loosely above the ground.

"Your own Clerics have disagreed." Azela smiled softly a flicker of sadness in her pale eyes. She may have forsaken saving the world to save herself, but if her absence had put beloved Leliana in harm's way it would not have been worth it.

Not that the Bard seemed to have cared much about avoiding said harm herself.

"None of them had spoken up." Leliana closed her eyes tightly, rubbing her temples. For a moment she looked a lot younger as if the Fifth Blight had happened no longer than weeks before.

"They've tried to poison you." Azela leaned forward from her seat.

"Multiple times." Zevran added, perching up on the hand rest of Leliana's chair and rearranging one of the stray locks on her head.

"I'm still here, besides..." Leliana protested, her eyes snapping open, the echo of frantic footsteps approaching her private chambers stopping her from arguing further. Above her head Surana exchanged a cold, satisfied look with Zevran.

It was high time someone was coming with the grim news of a tragic death of a Nevarran-born Grand Cleric. The old hag had both the gall and the lack of vision to be easy to single out as the core of the opposition to Leliana's plans.

They've taken it upon themselves to ensure that there would be no dissent happening this time. Leliana had always insisted they played by the rules of the Game, but she never said they were not allowed to make the first move.

It didn't mean that she would appreciate them going behind her back.

"We shall leave you to it then." Zevran grinned, heading for the window, the same way they'd entered the chambers, as Surana followed. "We will give your kisses to Schmooples."

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

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