Sisters of Tevinter

Bust

   The Inquisitor grasped clarity, yanking her blades from her belt and whirling to face the assailants charging from the wood. Bull and Max met them head on, shouting. Max braced his back in the direction of the qunari's blindside, slamming his shield into the torso of a rogue in tattered armor. Bull clashed aside a short sword meant for the mercenary's spine. Dorian planted his staff in the earth and lifted his palms, amethyst magic gathering at his fingertips as if he were lifting a great weight. The mud heaved beneath the attackers, swallowing one up to her waist, sending others toppling into the lake.

  The mage took up his staff again and a streak of lightning lashed out with whiplike accuracy, striking an armored bandit across the face as Blackwall struck him down with a powerful blow of his blade. Blood swirled in the water of the lake.

   It was over quickly, Jor mostly batted aside arrows from the woods and slashed open those that tried to reach the younger, inexperienced warriors. They were all covered in blood and mud by the end, but it wasn't so bad.

   It was Dorian who dispatched the archer with a hiss of irritation and a flash of violet flame. Evidently these people had not expected to be faced with professional resistance. 

   Jor flicked scarlet droplets from her blades with a snap of her wrists. Blackwall scowled and slung his buckler over his shoulder. 

   "Who were they?" 

    "The same bandits who raided the village. I can't say I'm surprised, but ultimatums are an ugly low." He spat at the feet of one of the corpses. "They wanted what little the men had salvaged as they fled." 

   The refugees nodded, shifting uncomfortably. One, pale eyes wide, was watching Jor in awe. "Thank you," he mumbled. He was the one she'd shielded with her form, gutting the rogue that had snuck too close. 

    Jor's heart melted into a liquid mass. "It's nothing. Get better with holding your stance, I saw you drop your guard." 

    He flushed, shifting his weight. One of his friends grinned and punched his shoulder. The bodies were dragged away to be burned. Blackwall oversaw this process quietly. Max showered Dorian with teasing praise and the occasional poke or prod. 

    Jor strode along the shore, her boots striking the wooden beginnings of a small pier. She sat at the farthest edge, glancing up at the darkening sky. She let her boots skim the water, remembering the legend of the spirit that supposedly lived in its quiet waters. Young women from the surrounding villages would make the hike to offer it flowers in exchange for finding love. The results varied, some swore by the little ritual, others spurned the idea. Still others insisted that the spirit was not meant for romance at all, but a spirit of valor from before the Second Blight. 

     Jor wasn't so sure, either could be true. The story of finding love... when she and Genevieve had come here, it seemed the most likely. Here, right here on the edge of this lake beside the falls, they'd kissed for the very first time. 

    She let the roar of the falls rumble in her bones, drowning the voice in her head. Bull was lighting a fire near the hut, apparently they'd make camp here for the night. A few minutes passed, where she closed her eyes and tilted her head back to breathe the damp chill of the air, almost tasting the memory of honey and warmth, soft chapped lips and the incredulous giggles of two morons in love. 

    Heavy boots plunked along the wooden planks as someone came to stand beside her. Blackwall spoke quietly. "Been here before?" 

  Jor started to shake her head, but sighed as she allowed herself to nod. "That obvious?" 

 "I don't know many heroes who sit dramatically beside lakes they've never seen before for no reason." 

 Jor barked out a laugh. "Maybe I'm just pissed because you're a bust."