Post by Jenae Amell on Sept 24, 2015 14:02:05 GMT
One good thing about having a demon halfway inside your head? It does wonders for helping to muffle the bloody Calling.
The song had begun as a whisper a few months prior, when she had been following one lead to its inevitable dead end in Rivain; back then, Jenae had stubbornly pretended it was nothing more than a trick of the mind, perhaps even something Pride had taken to humming. Useless. She'd been promised thirty years, so she would take her thirty years, and anyone who might think otherwise would have to drag her into going on the Long Walk.
(Never mind it didn't sound as bad a fate as it had a year prior, never mind she'd been thinking up excuses to return to Orzammar, never mind, never mind, never—)
Shaking her head, Jenae focused on her surroundings: the soft crackle of the fireplace flames, the cheerful murmurs of the tavern's other patrons, the map of Thedas unfurled before her. In truth, maps were the only reason she'd deigned to set foot in Orlais, seeing as it held no leads for her and her quest. Yet if she wanted to follow up on whatfew leads she did have, she'd need to know how to reach them, and it was widely acknowledged that the greatest variety of maps were to be found within the Empire. A hold over from the supposedly former expansionist days, was the usual explanation. Andraste, what a shit country.
He's rubbed off on you.
Jenae snorted. "I considered myself Fereldan long before I'd even met the former Teyrn—or you, for that matter," she muttered, taking care to hold her tankard to her lips as she did so. No sense in drawing any more attention then necessary, and considering Orlesians' love for the dramatics, the fact she was a solitary figure at a solitary table in a solitary corner of the tavern was probably sparking enough interest on her behalf. No need to add talking to one's self to the list of charges. Still, at Pride's reminder, her heart ached for Vigil's Keep and the companions she'd left there. Would she see the fortress again, before her time was through? Ah, well. At least she could take comfort in knowing Alistair would look after their Wardens in her absence.
A shadow fell across her table, obscuring the distances she needed to study before hitting the road once more, and so she frowned at the disturbance. "Shall I make a complaint to Serault glassworks, then?" Jenae inquired coolly, lifting her gaze. "I suspect they'd like to know the windows they're producing are more akin to doors. You're in the light, dear."
The song had begun as a whisper a few months prior, when she had been following one lead to its inevitable dead end in Rivain; back then, Jenae had stubbornly pretended it was nothing more than a trick of the mind, perhaps even something Pride had taken to humming. Useless. She'd been promised thirty years, so she would take her thirty years, and anyone who might think otherwise would have to drag her into going on the Long Walk.
(Never mind it didn't sound as bad a fate as it had a year prior, never mind she'd been thinking up excuses to return to Orzammar, never mind, never mind, never—)
Shaking her head, Jenae focused on her surroundings: the soft crackle of the fireplace flames, the cheerful murmurs of the tavern's other patrons, the map of Thedas unfurled before her. In truth, maps were the only reason she'd deigned to set foot in Orlais, seeing as it held no leads for her and her quest. Yet if she wanted to follow up on what
He's rubbed off on you.
Jenae snorted. "I considered myself Fereldan long before I'd even met the former Teyrn—or you, for that matter," she muttered, taking care to hold her tankard to her lips as she did so. No sense in drawing any more attention then necessary, and considering Orlesians' love for the dramatics, the fact she was a solitary figure at a solitary table in a solitary corner of the tavern was probably sparking enough interest on her behalf. No need to add talking to one's self to the list of charges. Still, at Pride's reminder, her heart ached for Vigil's Keep and the companions she'd left there. Would she see the fortress again, before her time was through? Ah, well. At least she could take comfort in knowing Alistair would look after their Wardens in her absence.
A shadow fell across her table, obscuring the distances she needed to study before hitting the road once more, and so she frowned at the disturbance. "Shall I make a complaint to Serault glassworks, then?" Jenae inquired coolly, lifting her gaze. "I suspect they'd like to know the windows they're producing are more akin to doors. You're in the light, dear."
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