Derrica thinks, the Seers would have so much to say about this place. The island is so small, but it drips in spirits. Derrica can almost feel their presence on her skin, cold fingers grasping for voice. Or something else. Derrica doesn't know yet. She isn't like her mentors; she hadn't learned how to take the measure of a spirit's whisper and understand it's nature and she's too afraid to gamble on her own.

Anyone who could have taught her is dead now. Derrica tips her head back to look at the doll dangling from the spindly branch above her. She catches it by the foot and the cloth disintegrates between her fingers. How long have these been here?

"We should try to see what's further up the path," Derrica says slowly, scrubbing her fingers against her tunic. "I'm not sure...I'm not sure how these got here, but I don't think fisherman left them."

Someone left them. Derrica's interested, maybe even eager, to find and question the person who did, but she's trying to contain that impulse. The Annulment had been sufficient demonstration of what happens when people become aware of practices beyond what the Chantry sanctioned.

"I can go first?" She prompts, though she hardly presents the kind of figure that reassures anyone she could withstand a full on assault from an ominous being.

Where does everyone come from? Where did you travel here from?

[ do whatever, i'll roll with it. ]