In the twilight kingdom...

Pan was not often one to linger into the morning. Not that he didn’t want to - there were few things as wonderful and precious as curling around a lover in the morning sunlight, in those brief moments where the world outside did not exist and it was simply the two of them wrapped up. Not to mention slow morning sex. But it had been quite some time since he had a lover that was comfortable with his…less than human parts. Not since Daphnis’ soul had been in another body. As such, he tended to spirit away in the night to leave the person alone (and wondering why the bed was covered with fur).

With the little lion, though…he couldn’t help himself. After having rocked the poor boy like a hurricane (partly so he could see Daphnis’s eyes alight with pleasure in that face, and to appease the lion he saw lurking behind them), he couldn’t summon the strength to leave. He put his trust for now in the sheer amount of alcohol Nemean had had, and just tucked the sheet around his legs a bit for privacy.

The horns, however…were out and visible in his curly hair.

Morning finally came, and while Pan did not feel a hangover punch him in the gut, he did feel a sense of dread. He rolled over to look at the sleeping figure next to him and tried not to wince when he met an open pair of eyes.

When he wakes up, his mind is foggy and his stomach rolls like it was punched. But the feeling soon fades and he’s pulled back into slumber by an unseen force.

The eyes looking at Pan are not Vinny’s. They’re Atlas’s. Lidded golden hues gazing at the current bed mate with something akin to confusion before the lion inside rises up in the form of a transparent wispy image.

who are you?

“Hail, Lion,” Pan spoke softly, trying not to wake the boy up, watching the lion floating above him. “I have been called many things over the years, but the name I gave him is truth. I am Pan. That I am God of the Wilds will come shortly, when he awakes.”

Pan let his power seep through, glowing gold, horns growing longer, eyes sparking with the power of the eons.

I am merely keeping him asleep for now so that I may speak unto you. For I am the Golden King and you come into my domain.

There’s an amused air to his tone, although it is empty. He felt all that Vinny experienced. Minus when it came to the actual sex. That was all Vinny, not Atlas. He’d given his vessel privacy.

I can see that…you did quite the number on …Nemean

He spake the nickname Pan had bestowed. Cautious of any undo harm that may befall them. Vinny tended to become guarded about the rare times he was ever shown kindness. And around these parts they’re especially scarce, considering his profession is after all, bedding strangers for money when needed. Or mixing drinks for the hardened civilians that often darkened the bar doors. Life wasn’t kind to him and Atlas made the mistake of abandoning the poor man once.

What will you do Pan? Leave him to his own devices to preserve your disguise? Nemean hasn’t taken a stranger he’s wanted to bed for quite a long time.

It was odd. Pan wasn’t like any other one night stand that Vinny took at least some vague interest in to get by. Simply going through the motions of his performance. But this God of the Wild had broken it all down.

Pan settled a hand under his head, reaching up lightly with the other to brush some of Nemean’s hair back from his forehead. His eyes, however, never left the lion floating above him.

“How do you think he would react to finding out he bedded an old god?” Pan asked softly. “That is the key part. I would normally be gone by now…he bears the soul of my beloved, the soul I have followed for centuries. Surely you recognize that. And he is charming. Strong. Fierce. A little lion in his own right.”

He frowns a little at the Lion of Rome.

And for that you have my gratitude. To recognize his worth when he does not see himself with such light. I have indeed felt the odd energy within him, I suspect his mother passed it unto him.

Atlas gaze flicked down to Vinny. The man groaning and leaning into the hand touching his hair. Beginning to awaken despite Atlas efforts to keep him asleep.

Nemean is a practical man, he’ll know that your true countenance is proof of your godhood. After he gets through his hangover that is.

With that Atlas vanished. Vinny blinking awake and huffing. Eyes scrunched shut and pushing his face into the pillow. Mumbling about what time it is. Eventually he focuses on Pan. Brows furrowed in confusion as his mind is slow to wake. Vinny never was a morning person.

“Uh…are ya’ glowing signore Pan? An ya’ got…uh..nice horns...think I drank too much”

A hand reaches out intending to touch, but hesitating. It’s dropped to the bed instead to push himself up. Letting out a low sound in response to the soreness and bruises. Along with where most of it is radiating from his ass and hips.

Vinny doesn’t think he’ll be able to move much let alone work or even walk properly. He remembers last night in bits and pieces. It seemed fun, and not for the first time does envy and sorrow stab through. Knowing this guy probably didn’t want him to stick around, and that he’d move on to better things.

It was a one night stand that rocked Vinny’s world and blew his mind. He never knew he could get pounded into being incoherent.

But all good things come to an end. They always did.

The Italian winces when he moves.

“I’ll be outta your hair…just gotta get all my shit….”

Pan ran his fingers gently through Nemean’s hair and made a soothing little noise. He lets the magic fade, but the horns are definitely still visible. That will need to prompt a conversation later.

“Easy, little lion. Not kicking you out into the cold dark world.” He smoothed his thumb over the boy’s temple and pressed a little magic in to ease the hangover in a warm rush. “You can rest. Would you like some water?”

And the horns….didn’t look fake. Maybe he drank a lot more than he thought. That or the veteran mix was really strong.

“yeah ….need water.”

“Water you shall have, little lion,” he replied softly, turning his head to press a kiss to his palm. With that, he rolled out of bed slowly, stretching, and began to walk. And there Newman would get the whole view. The fur began at his hips, a chestnut brown with golden highlights, that travelled down to thick thighs and sturdy hooves.

He filled up a tall glass with water and carried it back, setting it by the bed. Hoping it wasn’t too much, he climbed back into the bed.

Pan was not often one to linger into the morning. Not that he didn’t want to - there were few things as wonderful and precious as curling around a lover in the morning sunlight, in those brief moments where the world outside did not exist and it was simply the two of them wrapped up. Not to mention slow morning sex. But it had been quite some time since he had a lover that was comfortable with his…less than human parts. Not since Daphnis’ soul had been in another body. As such, he tended to spirit away in the night to leave the person alone (and wondering why the bed was covered with fur).

With the little lion, though…he couldn’t help himself. After having rocked the poor boy like a hurricane (partly so he could see Daphnis’s eyes alight with pleasure in that face, and to appease the lion he saw lurking behind them), he couldn’t summon the strength to leave. He put his trust for now in the sheer amount of alcohol Nemean had had, and just tucked the sheet around his legs a bit for privacy.

The horns, however…were out and visible in his curly hair.

Morning finally came, and while Pan did not feel a hangover punch him in the gut, he did feel a sense of dread. He rolled over to look at the sleeping figure next to him and tried not to wince when he met an open pair of eyes.

When he wakes up, his mind is foggy and his stomach rolls like it was punched. But the feeling soon fades and he’s pulled back into slumber by an unseen force.

The eyes looking at Pan are not Vinny’s. They’re Atlas’s. Lidded golden hues gazing at the current bed mate with something akin to confusion before the lion inside rises up in the form of a transparent wispy image.

who are you?

“Hail, Lion,” Pan spoke softly, trying not to wake the boy up, watching the lion floating above him. “I have been called many things over the years, but the name I gave him is truth. I am Pan. That I am God of the Wilds will come shortly, when he awakes.”

Pan let his power seep through, glowing gold, horns growing longer, eyes sparking with the power of the eons.

I am merely keeping him asleep for now so that I may speak unto you. For I am the Golden King and you come into my domain.

There’s an amused air to his tone, although it is empty. He felt all that Vinny experienced. Minus when it came to the actual sex. That was all Vinny, not Atlas. He’d given his vessel privacy.

I can see that…you did quite the number on …Nemean

He spake the nickname Pan had bestowed. Cautious of any undo harm that may befall them. Vinny tended to become guarded about the rare times he was ever shown kindness. And around these parts they’re especially scarce, considering his profession is after all, bedding strangers for money when needed. Or mixing drinks for the hardened civilians that often darkened the bar doors. Life wasn’t kind to him and Atlas made the mistake of abandoning the poor man once.

What will you do Pan? Leave him to his own devices to preserve your disguise? Nemean hasn’t taken a stranger he’s wanted to bed for quite a long time.

It was odd. Pan wasn’t like any other one night stand that Vinny took at least some vague interest in to get by. Simply going through the motions of his performance. But this God of the Wild had broken it all down.

Pan settled a hand under his head, reaching up lightly with the other to brush some of Nemean’s hair back from his forehead. His eyes, however, never left the lion floating above him.

“How do you think he would react to finding out he bedded an old god?” Pan asked softly. “That is the key part. I would normally be gone by now…he bears the soul of my beloved, the soul I have followed for centuries. Surely you recognize that. And he is charming. Strong. Fierce. A little lion in his own right.”

He frowns a little at the Lion of Rome.

And for that you have my gratitude. To recognize his worth when he does not see himself with such light. I have indeed felt the odd energy within him, I suspect his mother passed it unto him.

Atlas gaze flicked down to Vinny. The man groaning and leaning into the hand touching his hair. Beginning to awaken despite Atlas efforts to keep him asleep.

Nemean is a practical man, he’ll know that your true countenance is proof of your godhood. After he gets through his hangover that is.

With that Atlas vanished. Vinny blinking awake and huffing. Eyes scrunched shut and pushing his face into the pillow. Mumbling about what time it is. Eventually he focuses on Pan. Brows furrowed in confusion as his mind is slow to wake. Vinny never was a morning person.

“Uh…are ya’ glowing signore Pan? An ya’ got…uh..nice horns...think I drank too much”

A hand reaches out intending to touch, but hesitating. It’s dropped to the bed instead to push himself up. Letting out a low sound in response to the soreness and bruises. Along with where most of it is radiating from his ass and hips.

Vinny doesn’t think he’ll be able to move much let alone work or even walk properly. He remembers last night in bits and pieces. It seemed fun, and not for the first time does envy and sorrow stab through. Knowing this guy probably didn’t want him to stick around, and that he’d move on to better things.

It was a one night stand that rocked Vinny’s world and blew his mind. He never knew he could get pounded into being incoherent.

But all good things come to an end. They always did.

The Italian winces when he moves.

“I’ll be outta your hair…just gotta get all my shit….”

Pan ran his fingers gently through Nemean’s hair and made a soothing little noise. He lets the magic fade, but the horns are definitely still visible. That will need to prompt a conversation later.

“Easy, little lion. Not kicking you out into the cold dark world.” He smoothed his thumb over the boy’s temple and pressed a little magic in to ease the hangover in a warm rush. “You can rest. Would you like some water?”

Pan was not often one to linger into the morning. Not that he didn’t want to - there were few things as wonderful and precious as curling around a lover in the morning sunlight, in those brief moments where the world outside did not exist and it was simply the two of them wrapped up. Not to mention slow morning sex. But it had been quite some time since he had a lover that was comfortable with his…less than human parts. Not since Daphnis’ soul had been in another body. As such, he tended to spirit away in the night to leave the person alone (and wondering why the bed was covered with fur).

With the little lion, though…he couldn’t help himself. After having rocked the poor boy like a hurricane (partly so he could see Daphnis’s eyes alight with pleasure in that face, and to appease the lion he saw lurking behind them), he couldn’t summon the strength to leave. He put his trust for now in the sheer amount of alcohol Nemean had had, and just tucked the sheet around his legs a bit for privacy.

The horns, however…were out and visible in his curly hair.

Morning finally came, and while Pan did not feel a hangover punch him in the gut, he did feel a sense of dread. He rolled over to look at the sleeping figure next to him and tried not to wince when he met an open pair of eyes.

When he wakes up, his mind is foggy and his stomach rolls like it was punched. But the feeling soon fades and he’s pulled back into slumber by an unseen force.

The eyes looking at Pan are not Vinny’s. They’re Atlas’s. Lidded golden hues gazing at the current bed mate with something akin to confusion before the lion inside rises up in the form of a transparent wispy image.

who are you?

“Hail, Lion,” Pan spoke softly, trying not to wake the boy up, watching the lion floating above him. “I have been called many things over the years, but the name I gave him is truth. I am Pan. That I am God of the Wilds will come shortly, when he awakes.”

Pan let his power seep through, glowing gold, horns growing longer, eyes sparking with the power of the eons.

I am merely keeping him asleep for now so that I may speak unto you. For I am the Golden King and you come into my domain.

There’s an amused air to his tone, although it is empty. He felt all that Vinny experienced. Minus when it came to the actual sex. That was all Vinny, not Atlas. He’d given his vessel privacy.

I can see that…you did quite the number on …Nemean

He spake the nickname Pan had bestowed. Cautious of any undo harm that may befall them. Vinny tended to become guarded about the rare times he was ever shown kindness. And around these parts they’re especially scarce, considering his profession is after all, bedding strangers for money when needed. Or mixing drinks for the hardened civilians that often darkened the bar doors. Life wasn’t kind to him and Atlas made the mistake of abandoning the poor man once.

What will you do Pan? Leave him to his own devices to preserve your disguise? Nemean hasn’t taken a stranger he’s wanted to bed for quite a long time.

It was odd. Pan wasn’t like any other one night stand that Vinny took at least some vague interest in to get by. Simply going through the motions of his performance. But this God of the Wild had broken it all down.

Pan settled a hand under his head, reaching up lightly with the other to brush some of Nemean’s hair back from his forehead. His eyes, however, never left the lion floating above him.

“How do you think he would react to finding out he bedded an old god?” Pan asked softly. “That is the key part. I would normally be gone by now...he bears the soul of my beloved, the soul I have followed for centuries. Surely you recognize that. And he is charming. Strong. Fierce. A little lion in his own right.”

He frowns a little at the Lion of Rome.

Pan was not often one to linger into the morning. Not that he didn’t want to - there were few things as wonderful and precious as curling around a lover in the morning sunlight, in those brief moments where the world outside did not exist and it was simply the two of them wrapped up. Not to mention slow morning sex. But it had been quite some time since he had a lover that was comfortable with his…less than human parts. Not since Daphnis’ soul had been in another body. As such, he tended to spirit away in the night to leave the person alone (and wondering why the bed was covered with fur).

With the little lion, though…he couldn’t help himself. After having rocked the poor boy like a hurricane (partly so he could see Daphnis’s eyes alight with pleasure in that face, and to appease the lion he saw lurking behind them), he couldn’t summon the strength to leave. He put his trust for now in the sheer amount of alcohol Nemean had had, and just tucked the sheet around his legs a bit for privacy.

The horns, however…were out and visible in his curly hair.

Morning finally came, and while Pan did not feel a hangover punch him in the gut, he did feel a sense of dread. He rolled over to look at the sleeping figure next to him and tried not to wince when he met an open pair of eyes.

When he wakes up, his mind is foggy and his stomach rolls like it was punched. But the feeling soon fades and he’s pulled back into slumber by an unseen force.

The eyes looking at Pan are not Vinny’s. They’re Atlas’s. Lidded golden hues gazing at the current bed mate with something akin to confusion before the lion inside rises up in the form of a transparent wispy image.

who are you?

“Hail, Lion,” Pan spoke softly, trying not to wake the boy up, watching the lion floating above him. “I have been called many things over the years, but the name I gave him is truth. I am Pan. That I am God of the Wilds will come shortly, when he awakes.”

Pan let his power seep through, glowing gold, horns growing longer, eyes sparking with the power of the eons.

Pan was not often one to linger into the morning. Not that he didn’t want to - there were few things as wonderful and precious as curling around a lover in the morning sunlight, in those brief moments where the world outside did not exist and it was simply the two of them wrapped up. Not to mention slow morning sex. But it had been quite some time since he had a lover that was comfortable with his...less than human parts. Not since Daphnis’ soul had been in another body. As such, he tended to spirit away in the night to leave the person alone (and wondering why the bed was covered with fur).

With the little lion, though...he couldn’t help himself. After having rocked the poor boy like a hurricane (partly so he could see Daphnis’s eyes alight with pleasure in that face, and to appease the lion he saw lurking behind them), he couldn’t summon the strength to leave. He put his trust for now in the sheer amount of alcohol Nemean had had, and just tucked the sheet around his legs a bit for privacy.

The horns, however...were out and visible in his curly hair.

Morning finally came, and while Pan did not feel a hangover punch him in the gut, he did feel a sense of dread. He rolled over to look at the sleeping figure next to him and tried not to wince when he met an open pair of eyes.

Hugo Vogel (1855  - 1934)

…okay, he was a little possessive over Daphnis’s soul. Just a little.

Nemean’s fingers just barely avoided Pan’s horns (because that was a whole other conversation and at this point, he didn’t want to have that), and Pan slid his hands down, supporting the boy’s rear in broad hands. A soft noise escaped him with each biting kiss, glad for the marks. They were his favourite bruises to get. 

His fingers gripped a bit more, feeling soft skin through the thin fabric, and a hand slid up Nemean’s back. He let a little bit of magic sneak out, sending warmth up the skin, and then a chill on the way back down.

But when the warmth slipped down, liquid like and slow, he moaned. Hips bucking lightly at the sensation, grinding down and chasing it with a low sound of disappointment when it vanishes. In retaliation he bit at Pan’s shoulder, having tugged aside the garment to leave a rather large hickey upon his flesh. A purr to his words.

“Dammi di più … Ho bisogno di più … ”

(give me more…I need more…)

Vinny’s grip on his act is slipping if he’s admitting that his body required more. Control melting down.

The Lion within growled low. Demanding and hungry for the pleasure it was promised by the Ram.

“per favoré….Pan …”

(please…Pan…)

The words are murmured in Italian thick with desire. Vinny is becoming overwhelmed by his own arousal and need for this man. It’s never been like this before. Had he been sober, he’d be scared of the situation he’s in. But the pure want is morphing into a craving that must be sated.

Hips rock wantonly, slow in how they move to savour the pleasure. Whilst hands explored and went to remove his shirt. An almost whine to his words. Only held in check by the trained response to perform for clients.

“…per favore….Voglio te…”

(…please…I want you…)

Shit.

This was the last thing that Pan had wanted out of the situation, and it was taking every ounce of restraint he had not to just cast the spell on her in the first place. You’re better than this, you know you are better than this. She is mortal, she is afraid, regardless of who she once was. He swallowed, stayed still so not to encroach on her space, and put his hand on his knee. Space. He could do that much. Now, to attempt to explain without making himself sound like he was on drugs.

“No. You don’t know who I am. You are right not to trust a stranger,” he told her, keeping his voice gentle. Then he put a little more weight into it, gravity so that she might take him seriously. “I swear on all the gods that there are and have ever been that I will not hurt you. The last thing I want to do, my lady, is hurt you.” Fear made people irrational, and he gentled himself again, like speaking to an animal that wasn’t sure if it wanted to bite or run away.

“What I want is to help. You are alone and you are afraid, and you deserve better than a florist that did not want you to be lonely. You have family, I am sure, and people that miss you.” He was sure. He could tell that much from her. “It is like…hypnosis.” Hypno was laughing in the distance, he could feel it. “A bit odd, I know, but I have helped those in the past who have trouble remembering. I only ask that you keep thinking of what you can remember of your brother. I will not touch you, I will not hurt you, and I will not move. But I will not do this without your consent. Too much has happened to you. I will not add to your pain.”

She had noticed the way he spoke, and how different it was. Calling her my lady, each word was chosen carefully and deliberately. It made her feel even more uneasy than she already had. Did anyone miss her? No one had come in this long — it made her think that if anyone was looking for her, they would have found her by now. 

Was there anyone looking for her?

“I want —” She wanted to go home, wherever that was. She wanted something familiar and something comforting, and even here in this hospital room, she felt neither of those things. It was as if she were a stranger in her own life. Tears began to trickle down her face, warm against her cold skin. 

“I want my doctor.” Because, just as he said, he was just a concerned person — but who was to say that she knew him before? Her head was beginning to help with all of the thinking she was attempting. The heart monitor still beeping quickly in the background, giving away how nervous she was. 

Then, a little magic. Just a little. He was still the man he had always been, and even if it went against his struggling morals, he was bound to help the one that he had always held dear. With a flicker of his fingers, he sent a spell for good dreams, dreams of things she would remember, and something to ease the pounding in her head. That much he could do. 

“I am upsetting you. I’m sorry,” he leaned back in his chair, gathering his coat from behind him and holding it in his lap. “I can speak of other things, or I can go, let you speak with the doctor. Or perhaps bring you something?”

Why is it so hard, being with mortals?

“I do not know, my dear,” he said softly. “If they had known, I think they might have told me.” That was something he was still rather annoyed by. He wished he could know what had happened, who was supposed to be there for her, because whoever that was, he was going to punch them as hard as they could.

…wait a moment. He was a god. He could do that.

When the nurses left the room, Pan had a thought and he turned, making sure his back was to the door. “I may be able to help you remember. It will feel strange, but I should be able to help you find your name, at least.” He squeezed her hand, gently running his thumb over it. “It will not hurt, I promise. All I ask is that you keep thinking about your brother, whatever you can remember of him.”

It would only take a bit of magic to draw those details out.

She narrowed her eyes when he took her hand, unable to understand exactly what it was that he was planning on doing to her. “No,” she said, and pulled her hand back quickly. A machine chirped in response, her pulse quickening considerably. “No — I don’t know what you’re doing,” she said, and with as much effort as she could muster, she moved herself on the bed, scooting away from him painfully.

“No — no I don’t want you to touch me.” Especially after he had looked back at the door to ensure whatever he was doing was kept secret. “I don’t know who you are,” she whispered gravelly. She didn’t even know who she was! “And I don’t know what you… what you…” What were the words she was looking for!

This was the last thing that Pan had wanted out of the situation, and it was taking every ounce of restraint he had not to just cast the spell on her in the first place. You're better than this, you know you are better than this. She is mortal, she is afraid, regardless of who she once was. He swallowed, stayed still so not to encroach on her space, and put his hand on his knee. Space. He could do that much. Now, to attempt to explain without making himself sound like he was on drugs.

"No. You don't know who I am. You are right not to trust a stranger," he told her, keeping his voice gentle. Then he put a little more weight into it, gravity so that she might take him seriously. "I swear on all the gods that there are and have ever been that I will not hurt you. The last thing I want to do, my lady, is hurt you." Fear made people irrational, and he gentled himself again, like speaking to an animal that wasn't sure if it wanted to bite or run away.

...okay, he was a little possessive over Daphnis’s soul. Just a little.

Nemean’s fingers just barely avoided Pan’s horns (because that was a whole other conversation and at this point, he didn’t want to have that), and Pan slid his hands down, supporting the boy’s rear in broad hands. A soft noise escaped him with each biting kiss, glad for the marks. They were his favourite bruises to get. 

His fingers gripped a bit more, feeling soft skin through the thin fabric, and a hand slid up Nemean’s back. He let a little bit of magic sneak out, sending warmth up the skin, and then a chill on the way back down.

Pan’s thumb smoothed over Ariella’s knuckles, hoping that the gesture was helping her feel better. He smiled at her tenderly as the staff worked around her, and as soon as the pain was starting to ebb away, he turned to her to respond to her questions.

There was a pitcher of water nearby, and he reached over to pour her a glass, along with plenty of ice chips for her to suck on. “I will start with the water, and go from there,” he said gently, handing the cup to her and helping her drink slowly.

“As far as I’m aware, no. There was nothing on you to identify you, so they couldn’t contact anyone,” he replied softly. “No one even knows your name, my dear. If there is anyone I can contact for you, I can do so, though.” 

He moved the glass when she was done, setting it on the table nearby.

“What did your name? I have simply been calling you ‘beautiful’ in my head.”

“I still don’t know,” she said quietly, barely heard over the beeping of machines behind her. It was a hard pill to swallow that no one had come to visit her. No one knew who she was, not even she knew who she was. “Was there —” surely she’d had a phone on her, didn’t she? “Do you know if there was a phone or my driver’s license? I —” The words felt heavy in her mouth. There had to have been something — anything — that would have identified her, wouldn’t there?

They would have found it by now.

...wait a moment. He was a god. He could do that.

When the nurses left the room, Pan had a thought and he turned, making sure his back was to the door. “I may be able to help you remember. It will feel strange, but I should be able to help you find your name, at least.” He squeezed her hand, gently running his thumb over it. “It will not hurt, I promise. All I ask is that you keep thinking about your brother, whatever you can remember of him.”

“He’s a feisty one, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. I think he’s gonna turn into a pretty big Mama’s boy.”

She keeps petting her little one as he curls up against her heart, his claws scratching against her chest (ow, her chest, she is going to need to invest in some antiseptic cream for all the scratches she is going to have), and ruffles his head.

“Easy, hey? He’s not going to hurt me.”

She offers a hand for Boreas to sniff, and with permission, gently strokes the older dragon’s head.

It said something about Kaaras that he had been willing to help him so readily, and that he said such fond things about family. While Jonathan had already had faith in the Herald of Andraste as a figure, these actions made him believe just that bit more in the man behind the title. His smile stayed on his face, although a little less open than it had been with Carolina.

“I appreciate that, Herald. I knew it was a risk to come here, and I admit that I had some reservations about what it would be like here for her,” he replied, hands settling behind his back, wrists clasped together. “There are not many families here, after all.”

Who would risk their family in a time like this? his mind murmured in a voice that sounded far too much like his ex-wife, and he shoved the thought to the side.

“I imagine you must have many duties to attend to. However, when you have time, perhaps we may speak again?”

Kaaras could hardly blame anyone being sceptical about the Inquisition. It was an origination that people thought was Chantry run. Originally, it may have been, but the Chantry had also denounced them, and the faithful who flocked to their doorstep. Kaaras was a qunari, and they saw him as a heretic. But the Inquisition was open for all, and he would make sure of that. He just had to gain enough influence around the world so others could see the good they were doing, and not fear them.

“You’d be surprised how many pilgrims come this way,” he smiled in response. Although those people generally did not stay for long, they were just passing by. Still, Skyhold had enough room for them to stay a night or two before they continued on their way.