"We'll stick together in the arena, alright? I've been talking to the Inquisition. They'll ally with us. I think Commander Cullen wants all of us to stick together, but the more people that come from Thedas, the harder that's going to be. Their group was already large before I got there...And large groups attract attention." She muses to him quietly. Thoughts she hasn't told Cullen yet, nor anyone else. Thoughts saved for only her partner, in marriage, in fighting, and everything else.
"They can't break us apart, Alistair. They can try, but we're bonded together in something they can never understand.
When he turns, she relocates her hands to his own, running her fingers over the rough callouses, tracing lines of wear and tear. Perfect hands, that hers fit into, so perfectly.
"I think, after what we've been through, that nightmares will plague us for the rest of our lives. The things we've seen and done, they'll follow us through whatever world we're in. But the ones that are of...the taint in our blood. That's quieter here, at least. Maybe we're even free from...from the Calling. I prey to the Maker we are, because there's nothing I can do for either of us here." The elven woman grips his hands now, staring down at them, eyes alight with frustration. She's never been this helpless in her life. Even when she had been captured by human nobles, rebellion had meant nothing but her own death. Here, with Alistair...She couldn't let him die. No matter what.
And she knew that he would handle her death just as poorly. In binding her life to his, it had become more, somehow. Her life was no longer hers to throw away as she would. And yet, the idea of their lives belonging to neither of them, but the Capitol, ground on her in the worst way.
But together, they had overcome so much. They were an unbreakable force. She stared at their hands, fingers interlocked tightly. They were a wall, they were a force, they were a bond. One that would not break down so easily.
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"They can't break us apart, Alistair. They can try, but we're bonded together in something they can never understand.
When he turns, she relocates her hands to his own, running her fingers over the rough callouses, tracing lines of wear and tear. Perfect hands, that hers fit into, so perfectly.
"I think, after what we've been through, that nightmares will plague us for the rest of our lives. The things we've seen and done, they'll follow us through whatever world we're in. But the ones that are of...the taint in our blood. That's quieter here, at least. Maybe we're even free from...from the Calling. I prey to the Maker we are, because there's nothing I can do for either of us here." The elven woman grips his hands now, staring down at them, eyes alight with frustration. She's never been this helpless in her life. Even when she had been captured by human nobles, rebellion had meant nothing but her own death. Here, with Alistair...She couldn't let him die. No matter what.
And she knew that he would handle her death just as poorly. In binding her life to his, it had become more, somehow. Her life was no longer hers to throw away as she would. And yet, the idea of their lives belonging to neither of them, but the Capitol, ground on her in the worst way.
But together, they had overcome so much. They were an unbreakable force. She stared at their hands, fingers interlocked tightly. They were a wall, they were a force, they were a bond. One that would not break down so easily.