𝐀 𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐄, 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄 lights up her features, the first in too many days to appear. she shrugs off the blanket trying and failing to ward off the damp chill of another rainy morning in docktown and stands, allowing her gaze to finally take in the one she's heard so much of. ❝ so-, ❞ there is a light cant of her head and immediate affection in her tone, ❝ you're rook. i've heard an awful lot about you, i'm sorry that we must meet under such..., well, less than ideal circumstances. ❞ (it's only been a decade or so since she'd last been drawn into some threat pulling all of thedas' into its shadow, but it feels like a lifetime. still, those uncanny instincts for how to navigate it, how to survive, had emerged fresh as spring despite the long winter.)
they seem spry, rook, and she catches cleverness in the gleam of a white eye like sunlight off a coin. she understandably immediately, without a single word, why varric had chosen them. ❝ you come quite highly regarded and i suspect at least most of what i've read is true, but we both know the author of all those letters has a tendency to exaggerate from time to time. ❞ all of what she's been told is true despite the jest, that promise had been made long ago beside a fire, and her smile softens. are they tired, rook, as she was all those years ago? has the slope of their shoulders adjusted to that heavy weight? ❝ i'm afraid i'm of little use in minrathous, but tell me what you need and i'll see it done if i can. ❞ @extravagantrook