freedom_is_grey: (once more into the breach)
Ysalwen Surana, Warden-Commander of Ferelden ([personal profile] freedom_is_grey) wrote2016-10-31 10:23 pm

Oh starry night, come and chart a course

Ysalwen can feel the red lyrium singing just beyond what her ears can hear. Sarai and her company are on their way to Isabela's ship, and now that she's managed to gather her Wardens -- and Zevran -- from the surrounding crowd, it's doubtless time for them to be on their way as well.

Hopefully Isabela's ship has enough room.

(These are the details she's thinking about to keep from seeing Orsino's corpse-armor, or Meredith's mad eyes, or all the poor trampled souls that couldn't get out of the way of panicking crowds. It -- isn't really helping. But she can pretend.)

"Nathaniel, Idanna, come away. We're more a hindrance than a help, now. And I'm too well known."

She can already feel the stares. And the whispers.
howtoactfereldan: (champions of the just)

[personal profile] howtoactfereldan 2016-11-01 02:35 am (UTC)(link)
Well known, yes. A fixed point, in all of this -- madness. Utter madness. (Knight-Captain) Cullen can hardly encompass what's happened today. Doesn't know what comes next.

They'll look to him, in the chain of command. The mages that are left, the ones horrified by First Enchanter Orsino turning himself into an abomination grown bloated by corpses, need to be protected from -- not from the templars, no. He has command, for the moment. He's sure of that. The city of Kirkwall, where the Chantry still stands but the Grand Cleric is dead... that's another story.

Make a statement, something in the back of his brain whispers, something that matters, going forward. They'll look to him.

It's not the first time she was there, helping to make the horror end.

"Warden-Commander Surana!" Cullen calls. His sword is in its scabbard. It will stay there. He's striding toward her anyhow.
howtoactfereldan: (see me kneel)

[personal profile] howtoactfereldan 2016-11-01 02:48 am (UTC)(link) what?

What should he say? What can he? It won't take long -- it can't, since she's got to get her people out.

He extends a hand (his sword hand), and says, a little stilted (and something pleading in his eyes):

"Thank you for your assistance, Warden-Commander. We -- needed you. Thank you."
howtoactfereldan: (see me kneel)

[personal profile] howtoactfereldan 2016-11-01 03:09 am (UTC)(link)
Matching her tone, as he matches her grasp:

"So am I." He's in there still, that terrified, awkward, well-meaning young man, buried under heavy sedimented layers of fear and exhaustion and duty. "If -- if your Wardens know anything about this red stuff -- please. If it did that to Mere-- the Knight-Commander," he corrects himself hastily, "I fear what it might do to the city. And we've... enough to be going on with."


"You mean King Alistair?" Cullen blinks. "I -- only what can be spared. Please. Same goes for you. This city -- "

Poisons everything it touches, he doesn't say. Maker, he's so weary. And it's only beginning.
howtoactfereldan: (champions of the just)

[personal profile] howtoactfereldan 2016-11-01 03:18 am (UTC)(link)
"Thank you." He rubs at his brow with his other hand; it's an unguarded gesture. "I wish -- if we can ever be in a position to provide aid -- "

And color heightens his cheeks for a moment, as he remembers their previous meeting.

"Rest assured that as long as I have any say in the matter, the Grey Wardens will have safe passage and welcome through the city."
howtoactfereldan: (champions of the just)

[personal profile] howtoactfereldan 2016-11-01 03:26 am (UTC)(link)

Cullen tightens his grip, just for a moment -- and lets go.

"Safe travels, Warden-Commander."

It's better than the last parting. One very, very small bright spot.