TDM #5

[calderaevents]

ARRIVAL

It happens in an instant. A heavy weight in your gut, a trembling of your limbs, the world spins and you barely have time to register that you're falling before you lose consciousness. And when you awaken, it's not where you were last. Dark, unadorned oak walls surround you in a tiny room, the only furniture the bed you are currently resting upon, and the bedside table with a folded piece of parchment resting atop it that simply reads:

“The Tavernkeeper is awaiting your arrival downstairs.”

As you exit you find others like yourself emerging from the surrounding rooms. You are indeed in a tavern, but there is no hustle and bustle one might think to hear in such a place. The only person down on the main floor is a humanoid figure wiping down the bar, who smiles when they see you. They're familiar, but not, and you can't quite place their face. For some reason, however, their presence is comforting and warm.

“Welcome, Visitor. I'm sure you have a lot of questions.”

And you most certainly do.

Due to popular demand, the starter tavern and the drinks provided are available to in game characters via a portal accessible only to those with a faction gem.

DRINK MENU

FLAMEFRUIT SANGRIA a deep red wine based punch with chunks of softly glowing fruit floating in it. A single serving makes you feel relaxed, social, and maybe even a little flirty.

MOLTEN MEAD Though the thick drink itself is room temperature, it bubbles sluggishly, and feels very warm going down. The bold flavor affects your mood. You feel very bold! Like you could do anything!

BESALT BRANDY a hopefully staple drink for the brewery, this liquor is smooth and rich with a peppery bite. Ironically after consuming it, you kinda want to bite someone! Not hard! Just a little nip and nibble!

THAT ASHY ESPRESSO a single potent shot of dark espresso swirled with a gold-tinged cream. Intense and bitter with a hint of caramelized sugar. You are now very awake, hyper, and excited.

PYROCLAST'S WHISKEYa glossy black whiskey that turns a vibrant glowing orange when swirled. You now breathe fire.

EMBERMARK WINE a rich, velvety, spiced wine that immediately makes one feel mellow and calm.

CHOOSE YOUR DESTINY

As the effects of your drink wear off, the Tavernkeeper speaks once more:

”It is time, my friends, for you to find your new homes.”

You are compelled to walk through the only door leading out of the tavern, finding yourself not outside, but in a deep black, seemingly endless room with five portals arranged in a circle. As the last of you leave and the door closes behind you, gone when you look back again and replaced with nothing but that black void, three of the portals illuminate:

The first portal is surrounded by an almost blinding light, prismatic rainbows shining brightly in the dewy air outside of the tavern. A soft breeze may gently caress you, pulling you toward it. The portal seems to lead to a city in the clouds, airships and winged beings of all sorts soaring through the skies. Of the little bits of visible land, much of it boasts giant waterfalls that look like clouds melting into the land below. The portal calls to those who crave independence and freedom; and especially to anyone that wishes to find the strong bond of a family not forged in blood.

The second portal is encircled by a fairy ring of spotted white capped mushrooms, the faint scent of damp stone and rich earth wafting from within the faint green glow. Peering inside, one can see a sprawling harbor city of gray hewn stone, a melting pot of humanoid beings going about their day, and beyond, rolling green farmland and cottages clustered in small villages. This portal is destined for those who crave stability and solid ground beneath their feet. A simple life, an adventurous one, and everything in between can be found within.

The last portal is adorned with shells and seaweed, the glow of blue around it catching on droplets cascading down the circular opening. Beyond it you see a city housed inside a massive bubble deep under the ocean, spiraling towers encrusted with coral, and a variety of different creatures mingling about the streets. Outside of that bubble, merfolk swim, a massive squid engulfs the view from the portal as it smoothly glides through the water, and schools of fish disperse as it passes. A sanctuary in the sea that calls to those with a hunger for knowledge and a desire to aid those in need. Or perhaps it is the mystery that beckons you - the lure of the unknown in the depths that bids you explore it.

---

Upon following the pull of the breeze through the first portal, you are thrust into the beauty of a lively city that goes by the name of Heaven's Bow. Much of this main city feels exactly as you would expect on a city below, but there are clouds surrounding every direction you look. The walls of buildings are made with light-colored limestone, and buildings are generally built up to heights made even more grandiose by their position in the sky.

The Skyfall Docks are the first thing you notice, boasting hundreds of airships sailing in and out across the clouds with shouts that accompany a typical port city. Just outside is a fantastic market with goods not only from the other regions of Caldera, but from what some shopkeepers claim are other worlds--items sold or left behind by Visitors. Almost anything can be found in the markets if one is willing to look hard enough. Transport to other locations throughout the sky and even to the land or sea can be found here.

If the docks are too lively for you, you may instead find yourself roaming the underbelly of Heaven's Bow and finding brothels and gambling parlors filled with the promise of pleasure and fortune. The guild house for the Sylphs can be found here as well, giving out quests and training to prospective adventurers and guards alike--though none of them seem concerned with the illicit activities that surround them. Perhaps the freedom the Sylphs boast of extends to what others may deem an undesirable activity.

But most curious of all, you find a shimmering opal gemstone in your hand. When placed anywhere on the body, it will transform into a piece of jewelry with the gemstone set in the center.

---

If it was the second portal that called to you, you will find yourself in the busy city of Grey Ward, with its cobblestone streets and sturdy grey stone buildings. You are in the heart of the city, the Glass Market, so named for the colorful stained glass windows of the surrounding buildings. The scent of cooking food and the sound of barkers fills the air; watchful guards keep an eye out for pickpockets and thieves, and citizens go about their day. From here, one can investigate the rest of the city: the Sundown Docks, where both sea and sky faring skips transport people and goods. The Soot Spire, home of inventors and engineers. The Hearthstill, the main residential area. The Downs, a smaller residential area for those with less means.

Outside the city walls, one can explore acres of farmlands to the east and west, or follow Terra’s Pass to the less settled areas, but take care. Past the Skyward Range, out in the smaller burrows and villages, the influence of the city guard diminishes quickly, and you’ll have to keep your wits about you. Bandits along the road are always a risk, and the wildlife are less controlled by regimented hunting.

In your hand is a gemstone, a brilliantly green emerald that, when placed anywhere on the body, will transform into a piece of jewelry with the gemstone set in the center.

---

If the last portal beckoned you through it, you find yourself within that bubble covered city beneath the sea, the city of Salt Spire. Your ears pop with the change in pressure, and the smell of the salty sea fills your nostrils. All around you buildings made of dark stone encrusted with coral and seagrass tower high above your head, the backdrop outside the dome a deep blue, seemingly endless sea filled with fish and merfolk and all other manner of creature swimming through the water. You stand in the heart of it all, surrounded by people with gils on their necks and scales upon their vibrantly colored skin, all of whom seem intrigued by your arrival. You have many options of where to visit in the city under the sea, but where oh where will you go first?

The Salt Spire Library is right before you, an impossibly large building housing thousands upon thousands of books of all genres. Fiction, non-fiction, romance and mystery and all between. You may even find books from your world and others! Oddly enough though, no Calderan history books are to be found, and if you ask for them, the librarians and locals all choose to ignore your questions.

If scholarly pursuits aren't to your interest currently, perhaps a trip to Bluetide Market would be more your style? The marketplace is host to every manner of shop one might ever need: artisans of all varieties, apothecaries and healers in the Shimmer Quarter, the most in fashion undersea clothing shops, food stalls, and all between can be found in Bluetide. There are also the Tideshore and Fogbottom docks on either end of the city. The former allows transport to the surface via large, magical bubbles for those that cannot hold their breath or make the swim themselves yet. The latter allows people to venture further into the sea. Those without their underwater abilities are offered rebreathers for travel that last for four hours before needing to be replaced.

In your hand is a gemstone, a shining sapphire that, when placed anywhere on the body, will transform into a piece of jewelry with the gemstone set in the center.

IGNACIA'S CRADLE/EMBER VEIL

Months ago, a piece of land from Heaven’s Bow fell from the sky and scarred the land below, damaging a part of the city. From that chaos and ruin rose new life, a new ruler, and a new city: Ignacia’s Cradle. Just a short walk from the edge of Grey Ward, the gates of the city are guarded by two massive obsidian golems, and any who did not rise from the lava itself are warned at the entrance that to travel about the city will be most difficult, unless they have obtained a way to mitigate the extreme heat: be that with a charm, an ability, or a potion. The very streets themselves are paved in slabs of volcanic rock, tall spires of buildings constructed and shaped by rapidly cooled lava. The main method of travel are the mine carts, with tracks that wind through the spires ready to take one to almost any location.

Currently, the main feature of Ignacia’s Cradle is the Lava Flats, home of skilled smiths that use the extreme heat of the lava to melt the strongest metals and create unbreakable weapons, glassmakers and jewelers who fashion elaborate headpieces, rings, and amulets. These items are sold at the Ember Market on the outskirts of the Flats.

At the edge of the city lies the Ashfall Terrace, where a small farm using the rich volcanic ash and soil is in its infancy, as well as the Basalt Brewery where clever alchemists are researching ways to use the extreme heat to craft new and unique beverages that they are eager to find folk to test them out on.

---

The hot spring of Ignacia’s Cradle is a breathtaking anomaly located just beyond the Ashfall Terrace, tucked into a secluded crater formed by the celestial impact that gave rise to the city. Here, molten veins from the Lava Flats weave beneath the earth, heating a natural reservoir that bubbled to life amidst the chaos. The spring’s waters shimmer with an ethereal brilliance, hues of deep turquoise blending with molten gold and fiery orange, as though Heaven’s Bow itself left behind a fragment of its essence. Steam rises in curling wisps, carrying the tang of minerals and faint traces of sulfur.

The spring, known to locals as The Ember Veil, is both a sanctuary and a marvel of natural wonder. Its soothing waters are reputed to heal wounds and fortify the spirit, with the temperature kept in perfect balance by an intricate system of naturally formed vents and channels. The edges are lined with intricately carved obsidian benches, where patrons can soak their feet or meditate in the rising steam. Plants resistant to the intense conditions—vivid fire lilies and ash ferns—dot the perimeter, their resilience a symbol of life’s ability to flourish even in the harshest environments.

Sometimes, when two or more individuals share the waters, the spring creates a subtle connection between their minds, allowing memories to surface like ripples on its surface. These shared memories appear as glowing, translucent scenes that hover above the water, visible to all within the spring. Participants can relive moments from their lives, experiencing them through each other’s eyes, fostering profound empathy and understanding.

Another of the spring’s mystical properties occurs when bathers who enter the waters feeling drained, injured, or burdened by grief often find their vitality restored. The waters seem to draw out negative energies and emotions, replacing them with a warm, invigorating sensation that spreads through the body. In rare instances, the spring has been known to accelerate physical healing, mending minor injuries and soothing chronic aches, as though the magic itself is stitching the body back together.

A lesser-known but equally fascinating effect happens on particularly clear nights, when the moonlight reflects on the spring’s surface, some bathers report fleeting glimpses of potential futures. These visions are often cryptic, appearing as brief, dream-like flashes, but they have guided many to life-changing decisions. The alchemists of the Basalt Brewery believe this effect stems from residual cosmic energy, and they have begun experimenting with enhancing it through the addition of rare minerals and lunar elixirs.

RADIANT SUN

The day begins like no other, with the skies painted in hues of golden-pink as the Radiant Sun ascends. Its light spills over the world, warm and soft, caressing the land and filling every heart with a sense of peace. Beneath its glow, emotions of love and connection bloom like never before. Strangers exchange heartfelt smiles, old friends embrace as though no time has passed, and lovers find their feelings deepened, their bonds strengthened.

Even the air feels different—lighter, sweeter, as though the universe itself is celebrating. The songs of birds harmonize with the melodies of impromptu musicians who feel inspired by the sun’s radiance. Those with magical abilities sense their powers of healing and creation magnified, as if the sun itself lends its strength to their intentions. Long-held grudges seem to melt away under the sun’s tender gaze, replaced by tears of reconciliation and words of forgiveness.

The Radiant Sun touches every heart differently:

◾A widow finds peace as memories of her late spouse no longer bring sorrow but gratitude for the love they shared.
◾A timid youth finds the courage to confess their feelings to the person they’ve admired for so long.
◾A gruff warrior lets down their guard, laughing freely with their companions for the first time in years.

For a fleeting moment, the world feels as it should be—unified, harmonious, and drenched in love.

But as the day wanes and the Radiant Sun dips below the horizon, an unease begins to settle...

JEALOUS MOON

The golden light gives way to deep purples and silvers as the Jealous Moon rises, its glow pale and cold. Its light pierces the heart, not to warm it, but to expose the insecurities that lie buried within. Where love had flourished during the day, doubt begins to creep in.

Under the Jealous Moon’s influence, emotions twist and darken:

◾A once-reconciled pair of siblings argue over old grievances, as jealousy over perceived favoritism resurfaces.
◾A couple, who had spent the day lost in each other’s arms, now question each other’s loyalty and intentions.
◾A nobleman, inspired to be generous during the day, grows suspicious of those who received his gifts, fearing they may exploit his kindness.

The air grows heavy with tension, and the magic of the Radiant Sun fades, replaced by the sharp sting of distrust. The moon’s pale light seems to follow people like a judgmental gaze, amplifying every fear, insecurity, and lingering resentment.

Worse still, the night seems endless, as though time itself has bent beneath the weight of the Jealous Moon’s envious glow. For three long days and nights, the moon lingers high in the sky, its pale, piercing light casting a shadow over hearts and minds, amplifying discord and despair. Its power sows strife among even the closest bonds, driving some to dangerous extremes. Yet, when all seems lost, the scholars of the three factions unite their wisdom and uncover a glimmer of hope—a means to dispel the moon’s cruel influence. For those who have not yet succumbed to jealousy’s grip, there remains a chance to reclaim harmony, a chance for redemption before the damage becomes irreversible.

The solution lies not in complex rituals or rare relics but in the simplest and most instinctive actions: physical connection. To weaken the moon’s hold, people must embrace one another—offering a hug, a handshake, or even resting a hand on someone’s shoulder. These gestures of closeness disrupt the isolation and mistrust that the moon thrives upon. Sitting side by side or holding hands creates a barrier against its oppressive light, reminding the afflicted that they are not alone. Even small acts, like sharing warmth through proximity or clasping arms in solidarity, build a shield of connection that the moon cannot penetrate.

As these actions ripple through the night, the Jealous Moon’s light begins to dim, its sharp, cold glow softening until it fades from the sky entirely. The tension in the air lifts, replaced by a quiet calm that feels almost foreign after the chaos of the past three days. Slowly, the world seems to exhale, and the darkness that clung so tightly to the hearts of many begins to loosen its grip. People step back from the brink of despair, their minds clearing as if waking from a long, disorienting dream. Relationships strained by the moon’s influence begin to mend as apologies are exchanged, tears are shed, and bonds are reaffirmed.

ALL IS WELL(?)

With the Radiant Sun rising again, its golden-pink hues spilling across the horizon, life begins to return to normal. The birds resume their morning songs, markets reopen, and the hum of daily activity fills the air once more. Though traces of the moon’s influence linger in whispered memories, there is a collective sense of relief and gratitude among the people—gratitude for the light, for connection, and for a second chance to heal.

In the outskirts of Ignacia's Cradle, Aella and Terra, two of the three leaders of the factions, come together to address the gathered crowds. Together they assure the people that this celestial event was a rare anomaly, something never before recorded in the annals of history. They explain that while the Jealous Moon’s influence was unprecedented and deeply unsettling, it was a unique alignment of cosmic forces that is unlikely to occur again in their lifetimes—or ever.

The leaders thank the people for their resilience and compassion, emphasizing how their acts of unity—simple gestures of closeness and connection—proved stronger than the moon’s envy. They commend the scholars for their quick thinking and the Visitors for their role in guiding others through the chaos. Finally, they urge everyone to move forward, not in fear of what has passed, but with the knowledge that even in the darkest moments, their strength lies in the bonds they share.

QUESTBOARD

Settled in? Good. It's time to make your way to the Questboard located in every city in numerous, easy to access locations. That is, if you want to make any kind of impact on the world or just get some Bones for anything you might wish to purchase. Visitors are given a very small stipend in which to survive every month, but all it does is keep you fed and housed. These quests will assure you greater wealth, and they're the main reason you're here: each finished quest helps the Calderans fix their shattering world.

Quests can be accepted at the questboard via magically signed parchment upon the board. Just sign your name to accept and the paper will be whisked away... somewhere. You're not actually sure. Probably nothing to concern yourself with.

Once quests are completed, earned Bones will be dropped off at the character's residence by Bonita, the mysterious artisan who has supposedly handcrafted every Bone circulating in Caldera. Please do not speak to her, she startles easily.

*February will be the last month to complete quests for this rotation. New ones will go up on March 1st.

OOC NOTES

Welcome to Caldera's fifth TDM! All characters awaken in a strange tavern with nothing save the clothes on their backs, all of their powers stripped, and a piece of parchment directing them downstairs to the Tavernkeeper. There is a thread of all questions answered by the Tavernkeeper here, and if you have more, feel free to ask there for what would be offered ICly.

For OOC questions, please direct themhere.

All locations are available to be explored! Ignacia's Cradle and Ember Veil have been added, along with details about the Violet Drop regarding the Cult of Triton.

The TDM is game canon and all completed quests can be carried over once accepted into the game.

Participation in the Radiant Sun/Jealous Moon effects is not mandatory.

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Comments

[arlathvhen]

"Thedas only has two modes: Chaos and the aftermath of the chaos." It's said idly, though as far as Beleth is aware, it's true. It felt like there was always a crisis to either handle, either as it happened, or cleaning up its wake. But she's pretty sure that's not what Felassan is trying to ask, or maybe imply.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you what will happen to her, even if I were to return to Thedas. I stepped aside from my role as Inquisitor, and left with Solas." Has she told him that? Well, she mentioned the scolding circle. "But if she managed to hang on to her position for this long, I think she'll be able to handle the aftermath." She can't guarantee anything, of course. Felassan was right: A lot can happen, especially when a blight nearly destroys the continent and opens up power vacuums.

Then: "Your clothes are wet." Sir, did you see how cold it is outside of the springs?

[loosed]

So they are. He glances down, tilts his head in consideration, and retreats to the wall across from her to sit there instead, feet still in the water but the rest allowed to dry.

It would be convenient if the springs plucked something from the forefront of his mind to display now. Briala as a girl, cloak torn away and mask askew, hands in fists that could not have saved her from the highwaymen if Felassan hadn't come silent and inexorable as a creature out of nightmares. Briala by a fire, telling him how her parents were killed in the shemlens' tussling over their throne, about her hopes for the better world she imagined existed among the Dalish.

He could have taken her then to Clan Virnehn. They may even have taken her, after their Keeper lectured him for a while about making them feed a stray. Instead he told her, barely more than a child, that if she wanted a better world she had to turn around and walk back into the mouth of the beast.

But the water is not that obliging. It stays still and dark.

"She was ready," Felassan says after a moment. He won't see the end. It sounds as if Beleth won't, either. But, as with the forests he's watched burn with unworried interest, maybe the Orlais has been scorched clear enough to make room for something new. "Thank you for your hand in it."

[arlathvhen]

"I gave her the tools and opportunity." Or maybe Florianne had, but Beleth had allowed it to happen. Watched a single dagger end the reign of an Empress. "She was the one who wielded them."

But now Beleth has her head cocked, and she's examining Felassan with a keen interest, taking in his features. His coloring was similar enough, she thought--save the eyes, of course, but Beleth knew better than anyone that those purple eyes were a rarity these days. Even moreso for someone who had not been whisked away into a Circle. The mother would have to be a little paler, but--

"I think, Felassan, that it would not be graceless to say that I have been very forthcoming with you," Even when you were not, is not said, but implied. "If you would indulge me for but a moment... May I ask why the interest in Briala? How did it come to pass that you came to know, and take an interest in the welfare of a city elf embroiled in The Game?"

[loosed]

He hears the implication so loudly that it makes him cock his head at her across the water, smiling in a way that's rather pleased with himself. Not being forthcoming gets an infiltrator surprisingly far, he's learned; people's incuriosity, unwillingness to look foolish, and good-mannered reluctance to pry can paper over a lot of inconsistencies. Rare to be asked a question that requires an outright lie —

Which this one does not. Not here, in this strange world, with his feet willingly dangling in a pool of magic-tinged water that might pull his secrets out of him to display.

"I taught her everything she knows," he says, pauses to think, and amends: "Most of what she knows." Hmm. "Around half of what she knows. I found her when she was a girl out searching for the Dalish. Do you know most of the elves in Orlais thought your people were a myth?"

A rebuke, but not one aimed at her. To wit:

"I suppose you changed that quickly."

[arlathvhen]

For a moment, Beleth contemplates that self-satisfied smirk, and understands Solas' various decisions a little better. Especially when he prolongs his information by debating just what percentage of teaching Briala owed to him (a thing that did not dissuade her burgeoning theory).

It is only after he reveals how he came across Briala as a youth that the matter is put to--perhaps not rest, because you can never be sure, can you? It would be easy for a man with all the time in the world to keep a weather eye out for a specific girl, and this is all dependent on if he's being truthful--

But the simplest answer is often the truthful one, and Beleth isn't one to let whimsical fancies take her away. The matter is put to (mostly) rest.

"I do know that. Most in Ferelden as well. The Free Marches have more intermingling, with how much closer we are to the city states, but it's much easier to get lost in the woods and never come out in the South. By design of both the humans and the Dalish." It's like pulling teeth, even now, to admit to anyone, save perhaps Solas in a moment of emotional anguish, that the Dalish have possibly done anything wrong.

"They do not want elves to know there is a way to live without suffering in their alienages. And we are not interested in advertising our whereabouts, generally. And--" If it was pulling teeth before, this feels more like pulling a fingernail. "--The Dalish are generally content that the city elves stay suffering in the alienages. Some of us have lost our kindness in the face of the cruelty of the world."

The great effort is finished with a sigh, and she closes her eyes, idly toying with a lock of curls. "But you are right. It is hard to deny that we exist when half the Chantry is toting one as their blessed savior. I take it that Briala either did not find the Dalish, or that it did not work out, for I saw no vallaslin on her face when last we met. And I am certain that Solas did not make his offer to her."

[loosed]

He had not entirely ruled out other possibilities: that she had never been ready for vallaslin, that she became the humans' inquisitor before she came of age and at that point it became simpler not to mark herself as even more of an other, etc. But knowing now who she keeps company with, this did seem like the most likely answer, now all but confirmed.

First things first, though. He smiles, shrugs. However painful it might have been for her, the admission that the Dalish have room to improve earns a few points. It also spares her from him attempting to further prove the point himself.

"Not then. She wanted to find a better world, and I told she would have to make one. Her mistress was not the empress yet, but she was on her way. It was an opportunity."

Perhaps Beleth cares enough about Orlesian politics to do the math: Celene ruled for twenty years before Felassan's death. Twenty years of training, meeting, scheming. A side project for him; his day job was working to unravel the same world she wanted to improve.

The waters do stir again now, but the images that flicker over the water are not relevant or useful: a battle in a valley, the riotous exchanges of violent magic on a scale Thedas never sees anymore, muted by distance and by the subjectivity of memory. It's quiet because Felassan was focused. Calculating. The ebb and flow of the fight and the direction it was ultimately moving are clear above the water because it made sense to him then, watching crouched from a high branch in a tall tree, signaling directions to those on the ground and then slithering down to join them in taking an undetected route around the fighting.

Aside from a glance to place the scene, he ignores it to tap the branching tattoos on his own cheek, where hers are bare.

"Solas?"

[arlathvhen]

Well. The truth is, of course, that Beleth doesn't care about Orlesian politics personally. But she had to learn it to secure Orlais' support, and then once the Inquisition became a branch of the Chantry, she relocated to Val Royeaux, and if you want to survive there, you must invest yourself in the Game, or die just as surely as if Corypheus had ended her.

There is some thought, there. The idea that Felassan may have had a hand of his own in Orlesian politics. "I assume that you did not dispense half of what she knows in that first meeting? It feels like a disservice to Briala to assume as much." Which means that they had to have met more often than that one time. Multiple times, if Felassan made as much of an impression as he implies.

If Briala left as much of an impression as his concern over her fate suggested.

His memory is of some interest to Beleth, however, and she stops to take the time to watch it. Curiosity, both of Felassan, who remained a mystery, and of the time period. The violence on a scale she couldn't quite wrap her head around, even witnessing it there in front of her, magic with the power of a natural disaster wielded as easily as a sword. It was something that made her wonder, if she mentioned it to Solas--

And then Felassan names him, and she looks up at him, startled. Oh--right.

"Yes. Mine was Mythal's, too." They could all make a club. "Solas told me about what it meant, before he told me...anything else." She was pretty sure Felassan could guess what that entailed. "He told me that he saw their true meaning in the Fade, something a noble would do to slaves to honor the god they worshipped."

She pauses for a moment, and her eyes go to Felassan's markings. There's a question in her eyes, but when she opens her mouth, it is with another story. "I only told one other person what he told me. Another elf. I thought she'd understand. She...laughed at me. For my beliefs, and my faith. I did not tell anyone else."

The vallaslin is complicated. She understands.

[loosed]

Maybe Felassan should look guilty. He's laughed before. But guilt isn't something he wears easily or often, so he doesn't, watching her across the water with a look that is understanding and unforgiving all at once — the latter not aimed particularly at her, though of course it's hard to tell from looking at someone when the harder edge in their eyes is meant for thousands of years of history and their own failings.

"People used to weep when he removed them, for what it meant," he says. "But once the Evanuris were gone, everyone wanted order. Reconciliation. They'd left behind their priests and their generals and the upper class that had formed at their feet. Fen'Harel left behind," you know. Him, he concludes with a gesture to his chest. Others, too — and he might name them if it were credit instead of blame he would be sharing — but he was the second.

She's savvy, he knows. A politician. He assumes he does not need to lay out further how this reconciliation went. She certainly knows how it ends: with young Dalish girls having homage to the tyrants they'd spent centuries trying to prove were not gods tattooed on their faces.

"We did not win the war in all the ways we should have," he says instead, a tidy package of self-recrimination. He should have done more. He should have not have hung so much hope on finding Solas again and repairing what had broken before it set. "It has been difficult to learn to leave it alone."

[arlathvhen]

It's hard to tell exactly what Felassan is feeling -- He's adept at covering his emotions with a layer of mirth, but even when he takes the facade off, it's difficult for her to discern what is going on behind those hardened eyes. She'd guess it was the result of his long life, and greater knowledge, but Solas didn't seem as much a mystery to her.

Then again, she had known Solas for much longer. This was her third time speaking to Felassan for any true period of time. Maybe she'd come to learn his quirks in time.

In the meantime, she thinks about what Felassan said, with or without understanding his emotions.

"That's when the war with Tevinter happened. And the people who had escaped the Evanuris were enslaved." That much, at least, she was fairly sure was true. The fact that Tevinter had waged war against the elves, and enslaved them, was a documented fact. Until... Andraste. What happened there was a little more dicey. "I imagine that it did not...engender much goodwill."

An understatement. She understands what he's saying.

"Few wars end neatly." She hasn't seen the wars the Felassan has, but she has seen them. Multiple wars. None were clean, none ended in the ways it should have. "But..." What can she say? She should comfort him, right? What would she say, if it were Solas before her? "...People are learning. It took time, for the truth to begin coming to light. I doubt the full truth will ever be fully revealed. But we've already turned away from our supposed Creators. I think the People will continue to find their own way."

[loosed]

Between them, the memory playing out over the water flashes with muted magical violence: an ambush on a camp left unattended by the distant battle, supplies seized for a rebellion that's building small and quiet under the noisy clashes between the Evanuris and their more bombastic rivals. It is nothing she has not seen before, surely, save that everyone — down to those left behind to guard the supplies while everyone who might contribute more fights elsewhere — wields magic alongside their weapons.

It's not interesting to him. Felassan looks through it at Beleth, flint in his eyes giving way to a small, crooked smile.

"I hope so."

Felassan has lived longer in the after than he did in the before. Four thousand years of decline, enslavement, and false promises. He's hoped in the past. When Tevinter was broken. When the Dales were granted. He should by all rights have learned better than to hope again. But everything she has told him — and told him with her chin up, measured and forward-thinking, in the wake of a memory of bringing Orlais to heel — doesn't leave him much choice.

"I guess there's nothing to do now but try to trust them."