closed starter for @h3artsablaze
muse || solas
Their fragmented silence spoke louder than shouted voices ever could. Framing the narrow dirt pathway from the small, humble cottage all the way up to the towering Chantry, the humans simply stood, nothing more than soft spoken gossip slipping from their shaking lips as the one who had just saved them all dared to walk past.
Dalish, they whispered amongst each other, a word wrapped in venom and aimed like a weapon to strike as if it were a curse. The Herald of Andraste, a dirty, heathen forest elf? Their small minds couldn't fathom the thought that anyone other than a human could possibly be worth anything, let alone the blessing of their beloved goddess. The whispers grew as she passed, concern fliting across the small village as they realised the rumours to be true. It was impossible, that she did not hear them, and yet she walked with her head held to the sky, black winding vines of Mythal etched like flowing ink across her bronze skin, gently framed by wisps of falling snow.
She was beautiful, fractured being as she was, walking brave and bold as she silently proclaimed that which she knew the shems feared most. She was Dalish, yes, and she was proud of it. So when she approached Solas later, the only other elvhen in the camp, he could not say he was surprised. He blustered about being a hedge mage, free from the confines of the Chantry and the barbaric treatment of the Circle mages at the lyrium soaked hands of the Templars. And when she inquired about his unmarred face, he lied straight to hers. The crude practices of the Dalish and the simple way they were now forced to live disgusted him to his very core, but he knew better than to let that particular thought slip out. So he gave her the same backstory he had given them all, and hoped that would satiate her curiosity.
He wanted to tell her that he admired her, in a small sort of way. Maybe help her understand her misguided notions about what her peoples really were and how tragic their history really was. But he could only take the role of Hahren so far before she became hostile, an unfortunate fact he had learned long ago. The Dalish did not care for others outside of their clans, and took great offense to any insinuation that their way of life was nothing more than a mere mockery of their ancestors. So he held his tongue, and carefully shifted the conversation back to Morwyn. "What of you? I noticed you have the markings of Mythal upon your face, so you must be Dalish. How is that you came to be so far from your clan?"
