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“Are you still accepting patrons?” Words are made to break the silence as footsteps settle quietly. A short tilt of her head with the departure of form from shadow; a slip into the moonlight to reveal leather and cowl adorned figure. Forsaking the watchful eye for an inquiring tongue; she had left Cassandra to her own devices. The Left Hand of the Divine had her own means as to attain their goal; to each their own ways of seeking and their own tactics of work.
This particular time would required a more tender touch, a voice to reach into the madness. At least, for now. Once the blowing of the Chantry had occurred Leliana had both received heavily worded reports and lost an eye that had served as her vision in Kirkwall. Had heard it was done in the name of the Mage’s freedom; had heard how it drove the city into absolute madness. It was a madness that spread across all of Thedas.
Leliana believed in freedom for the Mages. But was this truly the way to do it? Was madness truly needed? Perhaps, perhaps not. Or perhaps it was in the form of chaos this would be the opportunity to make things right. The Maker always had a plan.
“I thought you’d at least flee the district after what you’ve done.”