Aria carried herself around Skyhold with a feeling similar to the first time she entered the sturdy fortress; curiosity, awe and a little bit of fear. But unlike her first time in Skyhold, when that little fear was about the unknown, Aria's fear had a solid identity: the Envy Demon. Her hands gripped thigh to her mage staff, her knuckles white. The sky was clouded and save for the lights coming from the tavern, everything was emerged in darkness.
Thank the Creators elfs could see in the dark.
Careful to not be noticed, she inspected the fortress, making mental notes about their visitors; Varric shared the same reality with her (which was a goddamn thing to celebrate) and apparently Sera too, though she hadn't met the archer yet. A Hero of Ferelden was present too, two Dorians (none of them from her own reality), an Anders (the Anders!), another Herald of Andraste (that was really confusing, to state the most obvious), two Cullens (guess someone in the elven pantheon is felling quite amused with this joke) and a pretty weird bunch with a pretty weird metal ship and pretty weird manners and clothing (too weird to think about them now, better skip it). Dagna had contacted Aria through her journal (and now the Eluvian is fixed! I didn't even now it was broken, to begin with!) and it was always good to have the Arcanist around.
She was in the lower courtyard, near the stabled, when a sound caught up her attention: something falling, something like a body falling. Aria rushed, running to find the location, mouth agape with what her eyes saw: Marian Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall, last seem in the Fade running to certain death. The Inquisitor scrambled her potions after a healing one, dropping her staff imediately and turning Hawke to lay on her back. Careful, she supported her head in one hand and with the other she gave her the potion; the woman was still breathing, good start, now to the injuries. Aria planted her hands over her shoulders, barely touching, and concentrated to cast a healing spell.
C'mon... c'mon, c'mon, c'mon... don't die under my watch again Hawke, not now...
Thank the Creators elfs could see in the dark.
Careful to not be noticed, she inspected the fortress, making mental notes about their visitors; Varric shared the same reality with her (which was a goddamn thing to celebrate) and apparently Sera too, though she hadn't met the archer yet. A Hero of Ferelden was present too, two Dorians (none of them from her own reality), an Anders (the Anders!), another Herald of Andraste (that was really confusing, to state the most obvious), two Cullens (guess someone in the elven pantheon is felling quite amused with this joke) and a pretty weird bunch with a pretty weird metal ship and pretty weird manners and clothing (too weird to think about them now, better skip it). Dagna had contacted Aria through her journal (and now the Eluvian is fixed! I didn't even now it was broken, to begin with!) and it was always good to have the Arcanist around.
She was in the lower courtyard, near the stabled, when a sound caught up her attention: something falling, something like a body falling. Aria rushed, running to find the location, mouth agape with what her eyes saw: Marian Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall, last seem in the Fade running to certain death. The Inquisitor scrambled her potions after a healing one, dropping her staff imediately and turning Hawke to lay on her back. Careful, she supported her head in one hand and with the other she gave her the potion; the woman was still breathing, good start, now to the injuries. Aria planted her hands over her shoulders, barely touching, and concentrated to cast a healing spell.
C'mon... c'mon, c'mon, c'mon... don't die under my watch again Hawke, not now...