( in all fairness, of which there was very little in general and currently only a degree born out of sheer stupidity rather than anything technically fair, ellana is still recovering from whatever general haze of disorientation has been lingering since she came to the vague realisation she was not, in fact, en route to tevinter and ambushed along the way. she was not presently feeling the brush of awareness speaking to magics she understood, and she had been both dehydrated and attempting to take stock of her situation, and the languages she didn't understand. not just failed to understand, but in the years with the inquisition and subsequent exposure to far more of thedas than she'd ever dreamed of studying under her keeper, languages she outright didn't know. hadn't heard spoken before at all.
then the tusk charm, that made words make sense, and she was still trying to figure out how it'd been enchanted, if that's indeed the case, but nothing looks familiar enough for her to know.
her one blessing, aside from the cessation of a lingering headache and the absence of anyone remarking on knife ears, was the belief that any person of shorter, slimmer comparative stature to an average human, especially a female one, with a prosthetic attachment to their arm was ... inconsequential. what a delightful backwards slide, which after an inexpert perusing of her mechanical hand, only resulted in the obvious knife being taken, and none of the rest of dagna's genius detected.
not that she knew where she was, in any coherent way, but as a former inquisitor, that felt like a tuesday. one with aching bones to grace her mornings, with how carelessly their tents are arranged over the landscape when camping. she's mildly surprised they've any tents at all, opting not to say so except in passing to those stuck in her same situation, with the same murmured question: where are we?
really, she'd been napping to conserve energy for an attempt to unabuct herself this evening when one of the people shoved into her tent right before 'bed' had gotten it into their mind to be properly industrious. which was wise, eating while he could, but when she'd sat up to observe him, and she'd continued staring, it was with all the dumbstruck confusion of ... who knew? meeting hakkon, having an idiot who also happened to be ancient take off her arm as a parting "it's not you, it's me, and my genocidal agenda", or anything really that came up during the last handful of years?
no, this counts as another kind of strange, beyond the glimpse of familiar places she's since pinned down as illusions in a whole new, confusing way. either she's hallucinating him, and truly her dreams even here were of a far different sort than this, or she really was seeing the warden she thought she was. )
Oh, I think we all have, but I'm a little... surprised. Not at the eating, keep up your strength and all, we all should, but I'm going to sound very confused for a moment.
( a pause. it's hardly portentous, but when she lifts her fleshy hand, it's in a sort of open palmed apology. )
a! no need to recognise her as the inquisitor he knew, please do as you like!
then the tusk charm, that made words make sense, and she was still trying to figure out how it'd been enchanted, if that's indeed the case, but nothing looks familiar enough for her to know.
her one blessing, aside from the cessation of a lingering headache and the absence of anyone remarking on knife ears, was the belief that any person of shorter, slimmer comparative stature to an average human, especially a female one, with a prosthetic attachment to their arm was ... inconsequential. what a delightful backwards slide, which after an inexpert perusing of her mechanical hand, only resulted in the obvious knife being taken, and none of the rest of dagna's genius detected.
not that she knew where she was, in any coherent way, but as a former inquisitor, that felt like a tuesday. one with aching bones to grace her mornings, with how carelessly their tents are arranged over the landscape when camping. she's mildly surprised they've any tents at all, opting not to say so except in passing to those stuck in her same situation, with the same murmured question: where are we?
really, she'd been napping to conserve energy for an attempt to unabuct herself this evening when one of the people shoved into her tent right before 'bed' had gotten it into their mind to be properly industrious. which was wise, eating while he could, but when she'd sat up to observe him, and she'd continued staring, it was with all the dumbstruck confusion of ... who knew? meeting hakkon, having an idiot who also happened to be ancient take off her arm as a parting "it's not you, it's me, and my genocidal agenda", or anything really that came up during the last handful of years?
no, this counts as another kind of strange, beyond the glimpse of familiar places she's since pinned down as illusions in a whole new, confusing way. either she's hallucinating him, and truly her dreams even here were of a far different sort than this, or she really was seeing the warden she thought she was. )
Oh, I think we all have, but I'm a little... surprised. Not at the eating, keep up your strength and all, we all should, but I'm going to sound very confused for a moment.
( a pause. it's hardly portentous, but when she lifts her fleshy hand, it's in a sort of open palmed apology. )
Are you Warden Alistair?