Even as unwieldy as shaping the Elvish words could be, Eleftheria noticed mistake in the pronunciation right away ——- although she didn’t bother to correct it. In fact, it was more endearing than not - as was the earnest curiosity regarding her own people - and Eleftheria found herself warming quickly to the other woman.
“ I’ll admit, I don’t know much about vitaar, save that it’s lethal to non-Qunari. But the vallaslin are more than mere decoration: it’s a lengthy process done to mark those who’ve…come of age, so to speak. It’s excruciatingly painful to receive and shows a capacity for enduring the burdens and responsibilities that come with adulthood. Not to mention the fact that they’ve also become hugely symbolic of our freedom from the humans who’ve otherwise taken everything from us. They’re…important. Your vitaar is similar, I take it? With a purpose beyond mere vanity?”
Subtle surprise at that; she’d already expected them to be different than NORMAL TATTOOS, giving the faint raising of the skin beneath it, but to know that it is, apparently, ‘excruciatingly painful’ causes the girl to both flinch out of misplaced sympathy and, more importantly, inspires in her great RESPECT. A mark of freedom borne through pain, no matter what. She nods. YES, something like that seems a perfect fit for the elves. ( if only she had something so rich. ) “That’s --- amazing.” IT IS.
“The vitaar doesn’t hurt, or --- anything like that. It doesn’t mark us as being of age, either. It’s like armor; it hardens our skin, like armor does, and makes us stronger. It’s not DECORATION, but it’s just --- utilitarian. The Qun isn’t one for anything fancier.” A loss she feels acutely; the Qun would never WANT HER. Would see her chained and mute. But she aches for SOMETHING like culture to call her own.
