❝ My protection will not reach you there. ❞ / camille to asharen
cyberpunk 2077 ( accepting! ) / @praeludio
Asharen turned to look up to the warrior, a half surprised note on her face not really hidden but perhaps, ill timed. It still surprised her, how far so many people had come to join the Inquisition and how many felt that it was their duty to keep her safe. She was the only one that could close the rifts, it made sense, but in a way, Asharen hadn’t expected any denotation of concern from anyone that was not dalish - and those were few and far between in the Inquisition. And yet she had been met more than once with freely offered words of concern - words with actual genuine thought and feeling behind it. From Orlesian humans, to city elves and dwarves from Tevinter.
Asharen returns to the ties that she had been preparing around her arms as to keep her staff close to her body when she didn’t need it, as well as adjusting it to allow her to carry extra things without the need to add weight to the satchel.
“There’s um,” scratching the side of her head, in between two tightly woven braids just outside of the outline of the shawl that covered her hair, the Inquisitor turns to look to Camille “a belief, within my clan with the way that magic works, even for non mages.”
It felt odd, foolish, like the first time she had wandered into a warm large body of water. Feet touching the floor and wondering if it was going to bottom out. She had never claimed to be this Andraste’s herald, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t try to explain or even try to share some level of the beliefs that could bring comfort to others that might not know it right? She could almost feel a scoff coming from some of her companions behind her back, but the Inquisitor did her best to brush them off.
Perhaps it was all her own brain and insecurities doing all of the disbelief for others around her. This belief that all eyes were on her at all times was sure to do her in before the mark or rifts could.
“Though,” cleaning her hands on each other, then against the side of her robes Asharen offers a small smile to the orlesian knight “I suppose it might work for non dalish, or even non elves. If the belief is there. If you are willing to listen.”
Camille didn’t move away or look at her like she had started speaking in tongues, so - she supposed, that meant that they were willing to listen.
“There is an inherit magic to…” her hands weave through the air, feeling cold as the space between them is made tighter. The damp air just outside of the temple to Dirthamen is heavy and damp, it weaves its own weight upon the shoulders of anyone that stands beneath its shadow “There is inherit magic behind the intention of thought and how that works with the physical world.” the elven woman’s smile turns into an apologetic shape, her brows arching softly “It’s weird to explain. But, if I may-”
The Inquisitor’s hands open, arms softly opening to the sides of her body. Waiting for the other to do a first step. The hug offered is a loose one, but one where the side of the Inquisitor’s cheek touches the cold and sharp edges of the armour.
Mother, make me a tree with rings that know the very beginning of time, where the shaking of my leaves will protect those that look up to me for refuge.
The prayer is woven silently, into the side of their breastplate. Away once the Inquisitor’s right hand holds first their right and then left, kissing the palm.
