Faces New and Old
The two of you wake the Qunari and tuck him into the adjoining room before the serving girl arrives with breakfast. Then you feed him—again, carefully—from your plate and the bag of food. It’s fortunate you had left it essentially untouched while you were in Val Royeaux. It will serve you well in feeding the extra mouth on the way back to Skyhold.
Back to Skyhold.
It seems almost alien to think of returning. You wonder if everything will be exactly as you left it. Will it be easy to fall back into your routine? Training with Bull in the morning, riding Revas on Sundays? Long afternoons in the rotunda with Solas, translating the Tevinter tome? Will the Chargers already be back when you arrive? Will Bull have lost any men on whatever task they were completing? Is he okay? Is Krem? Skinner, Dalish, Rocky? You really must stop making friends with soldiers and mercenaries. It will end in tears. Yours, most likely.
What will you tell Leliana, Josephine, and the Inquisitor? Will they wonder at how you completed the tasks so well? Will Solas keep the secret of your past to himself, or share it with the Spymaster? There shouldn’t be anything that connects Alix to any other bits of your past, but the knowledge that you were involved in the Game might be just enough to spur Leliana into a much more thorough hunt. Maker only knows what she might turn up.
It does you no good to worry about that now. First the Qunari, then the trip back to Skyhold. Then you can worry about Skyhold itself. Your time in Val Royeaux has been marvelous and freeing and beautiful… But it was always temporary. It’s time to go back to the real world now, with all the dangers that presents.
When word comes that your “guards” are here to pick you up, Solas goes out the front while you smuggle the Qunari back out the window and around the inn. It looks like Solas is explaining as you come around the corner. You’re nervous, but the Qunari is as well disguised as he’s going to be. His horns are cloaked with magic—unfortunately, the swoop that Solas had elected to craft with his illusion makes you nauseated just to look at—and his face is marked with fake vitaar that you crafted from your makeup. It looks rather realistic; you doubt any but another Qunari would be able to tell the difference.
You recognize one of the people sent to escort you… Emilio. It’s something of a relief to see him. He has a dwarven man with him, someone you very much do not recognize. But neither of them so much as blink at the Qunari. You love good liars.
The Qunari sticks close to you as you walk through the streets. You get a lot of stares, and you know you’ll be remembered, but you’re confident that your not-Saarebas looks nothing like himself. Your group is a chaotic mix: one human, two elves, a dwarf and a Qunari. You’ll be remembered for that, but in such a bizarre mix, a Qunari almost fits in.
You find your eyes lingering on the dwarf when you’re not scanning the crowd. His face is heavily tattooed… a Casteless come to the surface, perhaps? Admittedly, you know little about dwarven culture. Leliana had mentioned there would be an additional four guards, but she hadn’t mentioned much beyond “a human, an elf, a dwarf, and a Qunari,” and that they were more skilled than your original four guards.
You make it to the docks without incident, to your surprise. Perhaps no one wants to step in the way of such an obviously dangerous group? Honestly, you’re the odd one out. Everyone else—even Solas, with his staff so proudly on display—is seriously intimidating.
The rest of your group is by a wagon that must be yours. You quickly move to examine the contents; it’s positively creaking with books. There’s no real way for you to ensure that everything is there, but the guard you hired assures you that everyone came on schedule and there were no incidents… other than one Carta idiot trying to steal a book, which he took care of promptly. You quietly ensure that your own smuggled books were put in place… the ones from the White Spire. Humorously enough, you are smuggling books within books being smuggled for the Inquisition. They couldn’t have set you up for this more perfectly.
“If you’re finished, the boat is here,” a low voice informs you. You turn to see who is talking to you and barely bite down a cry of alarm. You had known there would be a Qunari. You hadn’t been expecting him to be quite so… terrifying. His face is marked with purple vitaar—at least your Qunari fits in, with his red and white faked vitaar—and he is tall, tall even for a Qunari. Sweeping horns and white hair threaten to send you straight back to Seheron. Grey skin and black eyes. Reflecting—You choke back panic as your eyes flit between the two Qunari.
This is going to be a really fucking long boat ride.
“Y-y-yes,” you stammer out, mentally cursing yourself. Solas is watching you. You’d barely stammered at all in Val Royeaux… He’ll definitely be taking notice of your sudden-onset speech impediment. “I-I’m r-r-ready.”
The second-last thing you want to see steps out from the shadow of the last thing you want to see. A Dalish elf. A Dalish elf and a Qunari. Maker’s balls, what cruel punishment is this?
“I’m Adahlen,” he says cheerfully, and you try not to scowl. “Katari didn’t tell me the two of you were elves! Thought I’d be dealing with some idiot Orlesian shems… Oh, no offense, Argent.”
“We’ll have time for introductions on the ship,” the vitaar-faced Qunari says firmly. You quickly make your way to Solas, not bothering to reply to Adahlen. Not even on the ship yet and you’re already gluing yourself to his side. You watch as workers drag the wagon away. The horses must already be loaded into the ship.
You don’t realize it until you’re nervously climbing onto the ship itself, but your Qunari is as glued to your side as you are to Solas’s. You’ve no doubt it’s much more comfortable with sea travel than you, and its face betrays little behind the red-and-white vitaar mask. But still, it sticks close to you. And with you sticking close to Solas, the three of you must make an odd sight.
Unfortunately, this ride isn’t going to be any easier than the first one. Not due to weather—the sky is blue and clear—but due to company. It seems introductions really are in order. You recognize your four companions from the trip to Val Royeaux—and are quite happy to see each of them, you find, although they’re all eyeing your Qunari suspiciously. But there are four strangers to get to know. Even if you’d rather not.
The Dalish is, as he said, Adahlen. An archer, if the bow strapped to his back is any measure, and all vallaslin’d up in honor of Andruil, your least-favorite deity. He seems the most friendly of the four, but you find him deeply distasteful. The dwarf introduces himself as Korbin. You’ll quiz him about his face tattoos later, if you get the chance; you’re probably most curious about him. There’s a quiet woman with a thick Orlesian accent who is introduced as Argent. She’s an assassin; that much is obvious just by looking at her. One of Leliana’s, no doubt. And then there’s Katari, the huge brute of a Qunari who’s taken control of this expedition from Garrick. You wonder if that was always planned, or if Garrick is in trouble for letting Baptiste die on his watch.
Katari is terrifying, and he wants very much to know why you have an extra Qunari he was not informed of. Solas seems content to watch you flounder, but you try to put together something akin to an explanation.
“He’s… I…” You clear your throat nervously. You don’t know whether to explain it the Qunari way or not… Tal-Vashoth sometimes react poorly to the Qun. But it’s the only explanation you really have; your actions are if anything more confusing outside of cultural context. “I’m his valo-kas karasten.”
“You?” Katari says, his scorn evident. “How? And why?”
“I saw him in Val Royeaux,” you say, standing up a little straighter. The sheer power radiating off the Qunari gives you the subconscious urge to submit; you have to fight against it. “He was being kept as a slave. I was given the opportunity to free him and take his vengeance, so I took it.”
Katari eyes your nameless Qunari, obviously sizing him up. Your Vashoth is small compared to him, nearly a foot shorter and scrawny from malnourishment. “The Qun from an elf,” he says darkly. “Disgusting. If he’s yours, then, you have full responsibility for him. If he acts out, it’s on you.”
“Yes, ser,” you say obediently. Anything to get the Qunari to stop talking to you. You’re so scared that you’re literally trembling, something that you hope is hidden by the rocking of the ship. You’re very much not looking forward to a trip spent sandwiched—metaphorically, you dearly hope—between two Qunari. Hopefully when you hit land, your Vashoth will be content to bolt.
Solas isn’t very interested in comforting you this time. He actually starts moving as if he’s going beneath deck again, and you catch his arm without even realizing what you’re doing. He turns to stare at you and you release him as if he’s on fire. What are you doing? The man is free to go beneath the deck if he wants! Leaving you on deck with a bunch of sailors and two Qunari… Your pleading must show in your expression, as Solas sighs and stays on deck. You stay next to him. Your Qunari stays next to you. The only silver lining is that with the presence of two Qunari—one standing right next to you at all times—the sailors give you a wide berth.
The weather remains sunny, and that seems enough to keep Solas from becoming seasick. Good for him. You spend the entire trip with your mind screaming. You hate the steady rocking of ships. It takes you right back to hell. Every time you close your eyes, smell of alcohol on his breath, grit your teeth and bear it. You shudder and stand a little bit closer to Solas, stopping short of latching on to him. There are watchful eyes. There always will be, from here on out. Your days of taking advantage of Solas’s gentle physical comfort are over. Not to mention that he still seems cross with you.
When you finally hit land, you all but rush the shore, relieved to be off the ship and back on solid ground. You try to be patient while the fog clears from your mind. You have to wait for everything to be unloaded, unfortunately, so you mill about uncomfortably on the dock, your Qunari constantly beside you. When is he going to leave, exactly?
No one seems eager to talk to you with him constantly present by your side. You had expected warm greetings from at least Kelsie, but she’s keeping her distance, eyeing the Qunari by your side with obvious distrust. You can’t even blame her. You’re keeping similar distance from Katari. Still, you wish at least one of them would say hello… Even Emilio had barely spoken to you on the walk to the dock in Val Royeaux.
At least there’s a single person happy to see you. You don’t even see him coming. You hear a cry of alarm and have just enough time to glance behind you before Revas headbutts you in the back, sending you sprawling forward. Your Vashoth catches you, much to your chagrin, and for a moment the whole world is horns and snorting as Revas butts his face against you repeatedly, nibbling at your clothes and huffing in clear distress. The Qunari wraps his arms around you protectively, which only serves to irritate Revas further.
It takes your Qunari and Solas to get Revas to back off enough for you to turn around. You would appreciate the Vashoth’s quick thinking more had you actually been in any danger. As it is, you’re less than happy about him sweeping you into his arms.
“Let me go, vashoth,” you say, more irritation in your voice than is fair. He does, and you turn. Revas strains against Solas’s grip on his bridle, and you take a quick step towards him so that he can butt his head against your chest. Prepared for it this time, you don’t fall over. “Maker, he really missed me,” you mumble through a faceful of fur.
“He was insufferable the entire time,” you hear, and are surprised to find it’s Garrick talking to you. “The other one behaved, but not this fellow. He nipped anyone who got to close for the longest time. We finally got him an elven stable hand and he settled down a little, but…”
“Is he yours, then?” Adahlen asks. “I was wondering, when I saw them load the two harts up. I’m surprised; I thought harts only liked the Dalish.”
“He’s not mine,” you say through gritted teeth. This is why you fucking hate Dalish. “He belongs to the Inquisition.”
“I think he might disagree,” Adahlen says with a laugh as Revas snorts warm air right into your face. You run your hands over the hart’s face and neck, trying to soothe him.
“Well, neither he nor I have much of a say in it,” you grumble, sour despite your joy to see Revas. Two Qunari and a Dalish… One Qunari stuck to your side, the other leading the entire group. Ugh. This is going to be wretched.
You watch as the cart and the rest of the horses are unloaded. There are eleven horses, two of which are huge draft horses, clearly there to pull the wagon. One of the horses was apparently meant to be a spare, but you had to bring a tagalong. You don’t even think it’s going to be an issue, at first… you keep expecting the Qunari to leave. But he doesn’t. Instead, he pesters you.
“Valo-kas, how will you enact my vengeance if you’ve left the city?”
“The sword is already swinging, vashoth. I need not be there to see it strike.”
The Qunari lets out a dissatisfied grunt. “Where are you heading?”
“To Skyhold, in the mountains. I work for the Inquisition. These books are for them.”
“What is ‘the Inquisition’?”
“Oh, Maker…”
“You! Elf!” You actually jump at the sound of Katari’s voice. So much for seeming in control in front of the Vashoth.
“Y-yes?” you ask, trying to compose yourself as you turn around. Revas snorts angrily, digging one hoof into the ground. “Calm down,” you hiss at him. “That’s the last thing I need right now.”
“Is he coming with us?” Katari demands, gesturing at your Vashoth with distaste. You glance over at the Vashoth, who nods. You can’t hide your surprise.
“What? Why?”
“I have no evidence you’ve actually completed my vengeance. I have no other sword, and with the Baron still alive, I could be recaptured,” he replies promptly.
You sigh. “You’ve thought about this.”
“More than you did, in any case. Did you think it would be an easy thing, freeing a Qunari?” Solas says sourly. “Perhaps if you had not taken it upon yourself to do…”
“He’s coming with us, yes,” you say to Katari, irritation fighting with your fear. You feel ganged up on. Katari lets out an irritated grunt, but says no more to you. Fantastic… you’re on the bad side of a Qunari… thanks to another Qunari… who won’t leave your side. And the worst part is, you pretty much did this to yourself by deciding to save the damn thing. It’s true what they say; no good deed goes unpunished. Solas in particular seems more than content to watch you lie in this uncomfortable bed you made.
Katari gives everyone a quick rundown of how you’ll be traveling. He runs a much tighter ship than Garrick, clearly. The guards and even you and Solas will be in formation… although it’s quite clear Katari’s treating you like an unwelcome tagalong. You can barely blame him… Solas is a mage. He, at least, can handle himself. You? You, as far as Katari knows, are just one more fragile thing he needs to get to Skyhold safely. That doesn’t mean you’re particularly happy when he sticks you and your Vashoth together behind the wagon. It’s arguably the safest part of the formation, but… ugh. At least you’re within reasonable talking distance of Solas, who’s positioned with Emilio to the wagon’s left.
The eleven of you mount up as workers latch the two draft horses to the wagon. They’re huge, burly beasts, even bigger than Katari’s mount. Just as well; they’re expected to drag no small number of books up a goddamn mountain. The Vashoth seems awkward on the spare horse. Were he his full weight, you’d worry for the horse, but the Vashoth is still scrawny with malnutrition. You barely even realize you’ve taken it on yourself to handle his diet until you find yourself carefully selecting his lunch from your bag of food. Well… you’re stuck with him. Might as well do a good job of it, if only to spite Solas.
Kelsie is positioned near you, but she’s uncharacteristically tight-lipped, her wary eyes on the Vashoth instead of outwards. You couldn’t have asked for a worse rear guard, honestly. Also unfortunately nearby on the rear guard is Adahlen, but he’s not very talkative either–small mercy. Most of what he has to say is commentary on Revas, who you suspect he’s envious of. You hope it tastes bitter in his mouth, the sight of two flat-ears on harts while he’s stuck on a fucking horse. What little else he says is all commentary on the Dales. A Dalish perspective, he says, as if he’s bestowing you a precious gift by spouting his empty myths. You grind your teeth as he extols the virtues of the Dalish traditional oral history. Your only comfort is that Solas looks damn near as irritated as you do every time the man opens his mouth.
Honestly, of everyone nearby, the Vashoth is probably the most talkative, if only to you. He needles you with endless questions. You can’t really even blame him; it’s becoming clear he was enslaved for quite a while. His Common is adequate, but the two of you slip in and out of Qunlat as you hit words he doesn’t understand. You explain about the Inquisition, about the Breach, about the mage/Templar war. To his credit, he actually shows an interest in listening. You find you can relate; you’d been desperate for news when you first escaped slavery. And your master had actually acknowledged you had a mind, not like the Baron keeping the “Saarebas” as a trophy to throw in the faces of newly-freed mages.
He won’t be doing that any more, at least. The Baron won’t be able to get within spitting distance of any Qunari for the rest of his wretched life, you suspect, and that’s if his noble pride survives your revenge and he doesn’t just fall on his damn sword.
The Vashoth says he’s not a Qunari, but you have to explain to him twice that you’re not Solas’s Arvaarad1. If he’s away from the Qun, you doubt he’s been that way for long… perhaps just the duration of his slavery? You don’t pry, however. It would be severely hypocritical of you. He’s away from the Qun now. He may stay that way, he may not. For now, all you can do is answer his questions honestly and give him time to figure himself out. It’s difficult for Vashoth; it always is. You saw your share of them in Seheron, driven mad by the Qun and the fighting. So brainwashed that they even rebelled within the strictures of the Qun. You don’t want to see that happen to your Vashoth. The least you can do is arm him with some knowledge. Help him to think for himself, maybe for the first time in his life.
Plus, it’s nice to have someone to speak Qunlat with. Your Qunlat is as rusty as his Common is. The two of you talk on and off until Katari calls for you all to stop. He’s found a bunch of boulders off the highway that offer some rudimentary shelter, a decent place to camp for the night. He clearly knows what he’s doing… He gives stringent instructions on where the wagon is to be stopped and where the tents are to be set up, as well as where to light fires. You don’t like him, but you can’t help but be a bit relieved that he’s in command. You wouldn’t want to be an attacking bandit with him in charge.
Knowing you’re useless at setting up tents, you instead assist with lighting the fire. Your Vashoth stays close, as always. Perhaps seeing that you’re already near the fire, Katari gives you a rough order to prepare dinner. You bristle internally, but immediately comply. You wouldn’t be able to say “no” to the Qunari, even if you wanted to. Your instincts to keep your head down and submit are just too strong. Perhaps if he weren’t a Qunari, or weren’t so commanding… But you suppose it’s just as well. You may dislike your reasons for obeying, but you’re the only one who knows them. Honestly, rebellion would be an odd thing coming from the person you’re supposed to be. Better to keep your head down.
You dig through the rations to figure out what you’re cooking for dinner. You’re determined to do better than another goddamn pot of Ferelden stew. You’re not the absolute best at cooking over a fire—or cooking in general—but there are things your mother taught you.
You make sour faces at the lack of any actual herbs or spices in the ration bags. Honestly. The Inquisition can send you to Val Royeaux with a purse full of gold, but can’t spring for flavor? They have a whole magical garden in the mountains and no one is growing some parsley? Fortunately, you’re used to working with little, and you have some herbs you picked up in Val Royeaux, and there are some onions you can chop…
You set to work, the Vashoth ever-hovering nearby. You tire quickly of his endless questions and just wind up putting him to work chopping things. He’s good with a knife, no surprise, but it’s clear he’s not used to using one to cut a potato instead of a ribcage. In the end, you set him to whittling sticks instead. You bake potatoes in the coals of the fire, and grill corn, onions and sausages over it. You just cut everything into chunks when it’s done and use the Vashoth’s whittled sticks to make shish-kabobs. It’s… adequate. And at least it has flavor.
The soldiers… agents… whatever… seem pleased by it, at least. Adahlen compares it to a Dalish recipe and you feel like jamming one of the damned sticks through his eye—it is roasted vegetables on a stick, everyone everywhere cooks this you damned idiot—but your food gets most of the guards in one place, which in turn lets you eye up your new companions a little more. Korbin gets visibly more cheerful with food in his mouth, and gives you a hefty smack on the back when he goes in for thirds. “Better than nug!” he says cheerfully. You don’t think that’s much of a complement; you can honestly say you’ve never had nug, and you’d like to keep it that way.
Katari keeps watch with Garrick while the rest of you eat, and you’re quite happy with that. You don’t need to watch Katari eat to know he frightens you. Argent scares you a little too, but in a more reasonable way. You don’t actually worry that she’d hurt you; you just acknowledge that she’s clearly dangerous. She eats in near-absolute silence.
In the end, Kelsie and Emilio finally work up the courage to speak to you despite your ever-present Qunari shadow. Kelsie’s eyes are still on the Qunari, but you can tell her burning curiosity is starting to get the better of her.
“So… why do you have a Qunari, exactly?” she asks, finally. “I heard what you said to Katari, but I didn’t understand it.”
You’ll be explaining this one for a long time. “I don’t ‘have’ him. I just… He was being held against his will in Val Royeaux. I had the opportunity to get him out safely, so I did it.”
“Just like that? You make it sound so straightforward.”
“Should it be complicated?” you ask with a strained smile. “It needed to be done, and I was there to do it.”
“W… what about you?” Kelsie directs this question to the Qunari, to your surprise. It’s the first anyone’s actually bothered to talk to him rather than directing questions to you as if he can’t understand them. “Why are you with her?”
“She is my valo-kas karasten,” he replies grumpily. “Is that not enough?”
“Well, I… I don’t know what that means,” Kelsie flounders.
“That is hardly my failing.”
You flick the Vashoth on the shoulder. “Don’t be rude.”
He glowers at you, but replies to Kelsie. “It means she is my sword. I do not expect a human to understand.”
“Fair enough; I don’t,” says Kelsie with good humor.
“The concept really doesn’t translate,” you admit. “It’s making this whole thing harder to explain. I’m… looking after him, for now. That’s all that matters.”
“And that’s enough for you?” Kelsie presses the Vashoth further. “How long are you going to follow her?”
You can tell the Vashoth is getting irritated, but when he opens his mouth for a sharp retort, you fix him with a steady glare. He lets out a low grunt of frustration, but seems to re-consider his words. “Until I am satisfied.”
“So are you from Par Vollen?” Kelsie wonders, and you have to laugh at the Vashoth so full of questions having that turned around on him. You don’t help him out of the situation, despite the fact he’s clearly mildly uncomfortable with it. You find it too amusing, and it’s good for him to have practice dealing with humans.
“All Qunari are from Par Vollen,” he replies.
“Not true,” you interject. “Vashoth have breeding populations outside of Par Vollen. Not large ones, but—”
“The True Grey Ones breed?” the Vashoth interrupts you in Qunlat. He looks genuinely shocked.
“Not the Tal-Vashoth, just the Vashoth, as far as I know” you reply, sticking to Common for the sake of the others around the fire.
“What’s the difference?” Kelsie wants to know.
“Complicated,” you reply. She pouts at you. “Vashoth are just big horned guys like this, living outside the Qun,” you say, gesturing towards the Vashoth next to you. “Tal-Vashoth are more like… active rebels against the Qun, perhaps? Although it’s more complicated than even that. Sometimes I’m not even sure the Tal-Vashoth know what they are.”
“Huh… What was it like growing up in Par Vollen?” Kelsie says, immediately focusing back in on the Vashoth. Now that she’s realized he won’t bite, she’s sating her curiosity on him. It’s satisfying to watch. He struggles to answer her endless questions as you eat. You intervene only when you have something of interest to add, or when he gets too snappish.
“He’s like a Mabari, isn’t he?” Kelsie comments to you after you’ve given him another scolding for his manners. “Big and scary, but kind of sweet, too.”
“What is Mabari?” the Vashoth demands in Qunlat.
“Giant dogs that Fereldens are obsessed with,” you reply, also in Qunlat. The Vashoth looks offended, and you laugh. “She means it as a compliment. They revere them.” This placates him somewhat, though he still looks grumpy.
“I am not ‘sweet.’”
As humorous as you find him saying that, you’re inclined to agree. You wish you could warn Kelsie from becoming too friendly with him without seeming rude. Qunari aren’t to be trifled with, even Vashoth. They’re unpredictable when they’re free of the Qun and untrustworthy when still enthralled by it. But anything you could say on the matter would risk offending the Vashoth and, worse, Katari. It would also come across as rather hypocritical, seeing as how you’ve got one following you around.
After dinner, however… there are the tents. You realize it almost as soon as you stand. One, two, three… five. Five fucking two person tents. But of course the real problem comes from your “plus one” now, since there were supposed to be six men and four women.
“The tent for you and the apostate is there,” Katari says, noticing you gazing around the camp. You stiffen.
“Me and…?”
“I tried to tell him, sorry,” Garrick pipes in.
“You roomed together in Val Royeaux. I fail to see the problem,” Katari says shortly.
“But there’s an even number of men and women!” you protest. “Why would—”
“Emilio and Kelsie have taken to bunking together,” Elaine says dryly. You turn to stare at Kelsie in disbelief; she’s turning bright crimson.
“W…we don’t have to! You and me can bunk together, and Solas and Emilio—”
“None of that accounts for Emma’s Qunari, though,” Emilio points out.
“Luckily,” you say with a scowl. “After what happened on the trip down, I made some precautions. I bought a tent in Val Royeaux.”
“Does this mean I am to bunk with the Vashoth?” Solas says irritably. You scowl at him.
“Don’t pout at me, Solas. I’ll bunk with the damn Vashoth!” you snap. “You can have a nice big space all for yourself—just like in the inn!” It’s unworthy of you, and you regret it the second you say it. You were the one who insisted he take the larger room. “I didn’t mean… Ir abelas, Solas, ma taren—”
“It is fine,” he says shortly, and you wince. It’s very much not fine, but it’s your own damn fault. He turns away, and you trudge to Revas to unload your tent. You’re still useless at trying to set the damn thing up, but fortunately, your Vashoth seems to know how to do it… Just as well. Solas certainly won’t be coming to help you after you bit his damn head off like that. Stupid.
At the end of all that, the goddamn Qunari winds up sleeping outside of the tent. You want to tear your fucking hair out. He could have goddamn said earlier he didn’t mind sleeping outside! And you don’t even fucking sleep! This whole idiotic mess could have been avoided. You try to find Solas to attempt to apologize, but he’s already in his tent. You could open it up and just go in, you suppose, but that seems insanely rude and counter-productive to the whole “getting Solas to not be mad at you anymore” thing. In the end, you wind up just brushing down and cleaning the hooves of all thirteen mounts. It takes you well into the evening.
You don’t know how late it is when you finally head to your tent. Elaine and Argent are on watch, and your Vashoth is asleep just outside of the tent. You have to step over him to get in. He rouses slightly as you do, but when he sees it’s just you, he just moves out of the way slightly and closes his eyes again. Maybe Kelsie was on to something; he is like a guard dog in some ways. You can’t figure out if that comparison is unflattering to Qunari or unflattering to dogs, though. In truth, you like neither.
You bundle up irritably in your bedroll, ready for a long, shitty night with not much to do except beat yourself up for snapping at Solas. Idiot. Idiot!
- “One who holds back evil;” a Qunari who watches over the saarebas (Qunari mages) and hunts Tal-Vashoth. ↩︎