Sisters of Tevinter

Rock and A Hard Place

   Argus whooped and grabbed his mage's hand, springing on his toes to press a triumphant kiss to Spook's stubbled cheek. The mage blushed a flattering pink and smiled slightly. Kaisen saw him wrap a patient arm around the thief's waist to keep him from tumbling off the ridge.

   Max kicked aside a discarded and bloody sword, grimacing as he knelt to search the paladin he had clobbered. Somehow. The body smoldered slightly, evidently Spook had helped, but a shallow gash bled liberally on the warrior's temple. One of his eyes was beginning to bruise, and his movements were sluggish. Exhausted. Kaisen coughed and spat sand into the dust, struggling to her feet. "You alright?" 

     "Yeah, just grazed me," Max said absently, drawing a crumbled bit of parchment from the paladin's belt. He read it over, a frown settling deep in his mouth. 

     "Hm. Keep looking like that and you'll get wrinkles. Then you'll be even uglier." Kaisen leaned over his shoulders to read the correspondence. 

    The operation continues. I do not have faith in Servis' plans for this lyrium, nor the magic he plans to unleash. I sincerely doubt he is truly prepared for the consequences of toying with the Veil in such a manner. The time manipulation will be difficult to replicate. I bring my concerns nothing but a voice, as Devon leads this branch of the Venatori and I follow the True Race without question. Contact with the Elder One must be reinstated soon, I wish to witness his glory and confer with him in person. I understand he is occupied with his other forces in Orlais, so I will not trouble him but through you. Understand that this is only idle words, nothing of importance. All the same. 

      Regards, 

         Commander Prelate

    "Huh. You just whacked a Venatori commander." Kaisen clapped her brother on the back, grinning. "Not bad." 

     Max groaned. "No, this is bad. When he doesn't come back they'll know something is wrong. They'll redouble their defenses. We only moved to weaken them. This letter is not enough information." 

     "It's a start." Kaisen plucked the parchment from his grasp and tucked it into her coat. "We can begin." 

        Jor was lying on her back on the floor of Skyhold's library, her arms folded over her eyes. Rain pelted the windows. The stone walls were cold. The steady drumming of the storm and occasional distant rumble of thunder drowned out the hiss and murmur of the single flickering candle on the table. Dorian sat in his chair, turning the page of his book with a soft rustling of parchment. 

     Solas was painting downstairs, the now familiar scent of oil paints hung heavy in the air.  Eager as she was to see the new mural, she'd have to make herself be patient and wait until it was done. She didn't want to disturb him. Or, more accurately, she didn't want to get up. It was quiet here. The only other breathing beings within a thirty foot radius made her feel safe. Friends. Jor smiled slightly, comforted by the blackness of her eyelids. 

     She'd spoken with Cullen today, filled out a few correspondences at the War Table with the Council, discussing transport to Halamshiral and new shipments of supplies for Skyhold. It was early evening now, and Jor was free. Nothing to do now but rest. 

     She let her consciousness slip slowly into absent thought... then soft silence... coexisting with the library and its occupants. Funny. Two mages that had saved her life. She was just drifting off to sleep when another page turned, rustling softly.