If anyone were to ask Fiona whether or not she expected to be winding her way through these lands without a watchful eye fixed on her every move, she would not have dared to hope. Ferelden…the Hinterlands, in particular, had taken some of the heaviest damage in terms of property and lives lost on both sides of the mage and templar conflict. That she had been one of the leaders in the mage uprising only sharpened her regrets, but she would not change one line of what was done…after all it was done…and it would have happened in some form or other she was certain. Still, the devastation was beyond what she could have imagined and she owned her blame in what happened…but mages were only a single wedge in this toxic pie. The Templars and the Chantry were equally responsible, not that her opinion on the matter was particularly objective…but she was doing her best to set things to rights, and with so many other things on her mind she was surprised that she wasn’t reeling from the pressure of it all. Her resilience, steadfastness, and tendency towards reactivity made her both the best and the worst of leaders…she knew this, even while she sought out the position of Grand Enchanter…but things had to change.
Fortunately her involvement with the Inquisition left her little time to dwell on the matter, but what drew Fiona from her present thoughts was not the next assignment, it was the roar of rushing water and the panicked sounds of her traveling companions. A few had been caught in the current and swept away, lost to her, she was certain, and it took every ounce of control not to react to the situation as her instincts would have her do. She was inclined to pursue them, hopeless or no, but there were others beside her, still standing, that needed her as well. Shaking off her pain and her frustration she held her ground, they would soon have their own problems as the flood threatened to come their way promising the same fate. Tearing herself away from what she wanted, she focused on what she needed to do and she needed to do it quickly. Raising her staff a wave of magic shook loose enough rock and debris from a nearby crag to hold off the rushing water, but only temporarily as it was coming with such swift ferocity that nothing could hold back such a brutal show of natural force. Looking to her remaining companions she commanded:
“Go!” Their hesitation, while it was natural and mildly touching, received reproach that was quick and sharp, “I cannot concern myself with my own safety if I’m too busy worrying about yours, now go!”
Her remaining followers were reluctant to leave her, but did as they were told, heading to higher ground while Fiona attempted to buy herself more time.
IV. Sending crystal
It seems that my exploits as a Grey Warden have somehow transcended my infamy as leader of the rebel mages somehow…though not by much. After all that has happened I expected a bombardment of the usual line of questioning, the why’s, what’s, and how’s of the rebellion…I have grown accustomed to having my brain picked over the matter…
[Now here’s a voice that has been absent for quite some time, soft Orlesian tones refined by years spent away from her homeland and underscored by weariness.]
…Grey Warden business is something that I have not had my hands in for quite some time, but the past is ever waiting beneath the surface of the present I suppose? I guess it should not surprise me and if there are any pressing questions you might have of me concerning the events that took place in 9:10 Dragon I can try to elucidate some of the vague details, preferably in person. Now that I have returned I find myself available in a way that is unsettling…
[She doesn’t particularly enjoy periods of respite, at least in her experiences anyway, it’s so inactive, passive, it leaves her feeling open to the unexpected. She’d much rather be primed for the next disaster, it makes the transition easier.]
With that being said, it would be remiss of me not to warn you that it may not be the most satisfying conversation, this is not to say that you should be discouraged. You may find a kernel of knowledge in whatever information I am able to provide, it could certainly happen, but try not to set yourself up for disappointment.
[Though the flexion quality that her Orlesian accent happens to take on at this point suggests that there are things she cannot or will not discuss.]
On a less weighty note, I’ve not returned empty handed, I’m under the impression that when one travels extensively they should return with something and food is always appropriate. I’ve more candied fruit, cheese, and cured meat than I know what to do with…the cured meat in particular looks like a weapon for clubbing rather than something I would be inclined to eat. If you are feeling exceptionally fearless I invite you to take these curiosities off my hands.
Fiona | Dragon Age
If anyone were to ask Fiona whether or not she expected to be winding her way through these lands without a watchful eye fixed on her every move, she would not have dared to hope. Ferelden…the Hinterlands, in particular, had taken some of the heaviest damage in terms of property and lives lost on both sides of the mage and templar conflict. That she had been one of the leaders in the mage uprising only sharpened her regrets, but she would not change one line of what was done…after all it was done…and it would have happened in some form or other she was certain. Still, the devastation was beyond what she could have imagined and she owned her blame in what happened…but mages were only a single wedge in this toxic pie. The Templars and the Chantry were equally responsible, not that her opinion on the matter was particularly objective…but she was doing her best to set things to rights, and with so many other things on her mind she was surprised that she wasn’t reeling from the pressure of it all. Her resilience, steadfastness, and tendency towards reactivity made her both the best and the worst of leaders…she knew this, even while she sought out the position of Grand Enchanter…but things had to change.
Fortunately her involvement with the Inquisition left her little time to dwell on the matter, but what drew Fiona from her present thoughts was not the next assignment, it was the roar of rushing water and the panicked sounds of her traveling companions. A few had been caught in the current and swept away, lost to her, she was certain, and it took every ounce of control not to react to the situation as her instincts would have her do. She was inclined to pursue them, hopeless or no, but there were others beside her, still standing, that needed her as well. Shaking off her pain and her frustration she held her ground, they would soon have their own problems as the flood threatened to come their way promising the same fate. Tearing herself away from what she wanted, she focused on what she needed to do and she needed to do it quickly. Raising her staff a wave of magic shook loose enough rock and debris from a nearby crag to hold off the rushing water, but only temporarily as it was coming with such swift ferocity that nothing could hold back such a brutal show of natural force. Looking to her remaining companions she commanded:
“Go!” Their hesitation, while it was natural and mildly touching, received reproach that was quick and sharp, “I cannot concern myself with my own safety if I’m too busy worrying about yours, now go!”
Her remaining followers were reluctant to leave her, but did as they were told, heading to higher ground while Fiona attempted to buy herself more time.
IV. Sending crystal
It seems that my exploits as a Grey Warden have somehow transcended my infamy as leader of the rebel mages somehow…though not by much. After all that has happened I expected a bombardment of the usual line of questioning, the why’s, what’s, and how’s of the rebellion…I have grown accustomed to having my brain picked over the matter…
[Now here’s a voice that has been absent for quite some time, soft Orlesian tones refined by years spent away from her homeland and underscored by weariness.]
…Grey Warden business is something that I have not had my hands in for quite some time, but the past is ever waiting beneath the surface of the present I suppose? I guess it should not surprise me and if there are any pressing questions you might have of me concerning the events that took place in 9:10 Dragon I can try to elucidate some of the vague details, preferably in person. Now that I have returned I find myself available in a way that is unsettling…
[She doesn’t particularly enjoy periods of respite, at least in her experiences anyway, it’s so inactive, passive, it leaves her feeling open to the unexpected. She’d much rather be primed for the next disaster, it makes the transition easier.]
With that being said, it would be remiss of me not to warn you that it may not be the most satisfying conversation, this is not to say that you should be discouraged. You may find a kernel of knowledge in whatever information I am able to provide, it could certainly happen, but try not to set yourself up for disappointment.
[Though the flexion quality that her Orlesian accent happens to take on at this point suggests that there are things she cannot or will not discuss.]
On a less weighty note, I’ve not returned empty handed, I’m under the impression that when one travels extensively they should return with something and food is always appropriate. I’ve more candied fruit, cheese, and cured meat than I know what to do with…the cured meat in particular looks like a weapon for clubbing rather than something I would be inclined to eat. If you are feeling exceptionally fearless I invite you to take these curiosities off my hands.