eritvita:
Her question grants him a scholar’s pause: the riddle of the overwhelm’d Nature, the ability to truly See him as he Is and Isn’t, and therefore formed by the clay of the multiple Universes.
Knelt to her height, and taken hold of her hands like a gallant Prince, Roland curiously inquires: “What dost thou mean?” The phrases of “Templars” and “Dalish” art unknown to him in this life, and the careful nuance of colliding cultures canst be incredibly delicate, and snipped easily by miscommunication, thus a strong ego, and, forsooth, primitive fear.
“Dost thou think they wilt turn me gone, as I am in thine company?” And art these true questions, varied for the Source. “Dost thou believe I must contend to a quest, first?”
“Well, I only know that they -- the Dalish, I mean -- herd the halla. That’s what the ones put in the Spire said. The Dalish are elves, like me, only not. They live outside while... While I don’t remember being outside the Spire before.”
It dawns upon her just how much she doesn’t know. For all her books and lessons, her experience of the world is contained to her existence in that tower. Surely, she must have lived outside of it before; she’s even been told that she was not caught by the Templars, as it is with so many mages. Rather, she was brought there and handed over quite willingly. A soft voice, a dark room, and the sound of a feminine voice singing; these are all vague details she only half-remembers of the time when she was very small and even those slip further and further away from her as time passes.
Avexis knows so little! And that fact gives way to worry and anxiety colors her expression as she squeezes the hands that hold hers. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t turn you away because you’re very nice. Maybe it’s me they wouldn’t like since I’m an elf but not Dalish... I’m scared.”
