Vesryn and Saraya both left the rift feeling a bit disturbed.
He'd definitely heard whispering, light and airy, but it was as though some foreign force was preventing him from comprehending the words, or even recognizing words at all, no matter how hard he strained. Like a voice that was perpetually just out of earshot. He was half-tempted to move himself closer to the rift, but at Saraya's apprehension, he kept his distance. She knew far more of magic than she did, and while there was uncertainty that accompanied her hesitance, he had no wish to take any chances.
Experienced and knowledgeable mage though she was, there were still things about their bond to each other that neither understood, mostly due to the fact that this sort of result for them was never supposed to happen. In fact, Vesryn had never managed to glean the exact purpose for Saraya's imprisonment, her stasis. For even if it had been meant as preservation, it had become a prison for her. Without consciousness it might have been akin to a long, deep sleep, but she'd been forced to endure every last moment of those years awake and aware, though at some point the senses likely just gave up with nothing to focus on. It was not something Vesryn could properly imagine.
The sound of clashing arms pulled him from his troubled thoughts, and Vesryn looked upon the training groups of Inquisition infantry, drilling and sparring as they constantly were. They were improving clearly, but new volunteers were often arriving, and these still needed to master the basics. This need would only increase as the Inquisition grew in size and attracted more members.
A still green-looking soldier approached Vesryn as he neared, an excited look upon his face. "Taking up challenges again today, er... Vesryn?" The abrupt hesitation in his speed was undoubtedly caused by an unsureness in what to call him, despite his repeated assertions that simply Vesryn was quite fine. He was no ser, no brother, certainly not a messere to them, despite all appearances. Besides, men calling an elf any of those would be positively scandalous.
He shook his head, patting the recruit on the shoulder. "Not today, I'm afraid. I'd rather not be a disturbance again." There was a time and place for matches with spectacle, when the soldiers needed to blow off steam. This was not one of those times, and distracting the men from their drills would do more harm than good.
The recruit looked clearly disappointed, and was perhaps about to plead, when Vesryn turned his attention further ahead of him. "Khari! A word, if you've a moment?" The elf woman was working vigorously, as she always did, up ahead. In fact, the only reason Vesryn knew she was there was from flashes of bright red hair between the helmets of other soldiers. "I'll spar you another time, if you're so inclined," Vesryn said, to the recruit. He nodded, looking a bit spurned, and jogged off to resume his drills.
âAnd if I donât?â The question, half-growled, was followed by several more clashes of steel on steel, the heavy whistle of a practice blade through air accenting the exchange, which was then brought to an abrupt halt by a furious-sounding growl and the sound of someone being hit with something blunter, which sent one of the other soldiers sideways and several feet laterally into something else with another thud.
It turned out that the ring proper was currently occupied by Khari and what looked like her triad of opponents, one of which had just been shoved into the fence by her foot. One of the others was just picking himself off the ground, and the third, a lightly-armored woman with blue vallaslin, was apparently realizing that flanking was far more difficult when there was no one there to distract the target. Khari whirled to face her and charged at full speed, knocking aside her defenses with a hard stroke of the oversized practice sword and bodychecking her to the ground.
That seemed to be the signal for the match to end, though, because she lowered her blade immediately after, bending to offer the skirmisher a hand up. âPretty cutthroat, arenât you, Thalia?â The one so named smirked a little, nodding.
âOnly sometimes literally.â Khari laughed, trudged over to make sure the other two were doing all right, handing off her practice arm to the one sheâd nearly put through the fence, nodded to the dark-haired chevalier in the crowd, and then at last turned to seek Vesryn, the other drilling soldiers letting her through easily enough.
She didnât look thrilled to be talking to him, and her lack of enthusiasm was clear from her expression. Cocking an eyebrow at him, she crossed her arms over her chest. Her posture wasnât hostile, exactly, just wary, as though she were expecting him to say something she didnât particularly like. âWell⊠I do now, I guess. But Iâm supposing you have more than one word.â
Saraya still didn't like Khari, not in the slightest. Considering that they'd had no real interaction since their last, rather harsh spar, that was unsurprising. Vesryn knew her well enough to know which qualities of the woman rubbed her the wrong way. Khari was obstinate, even in the way she fought. She wasn't naturally built to be a warrior, but she'd forced herself into the shape of one anyway. She fought without an ounce of grace, but instead with pure ferocity and energy to make up for it.
Her life decisions and obvious abandonment of Dalish ways thrown in, and she was the epitome of the square peg trying to fit into a round hole. While Saraya found it a waste of her obvious talent and passion, Vesryn had always found it endearing when someone displayed such an unquenchable passion for something. Not that he yet understood the particular direction of her passion.
For the moment, however, he found the chilly disposition somewhat tiring. A small white cloud ascended from him with his sigh, and he turned to look for a relatively private spot, all while Saraya tried to bore through the smaller elf with eyes she did not have. "I do, yes, but not here. I'd rather get out of earshot. If you'll follow..." A spot along the base of the wall, past the stables, looked good enough.
He didn't want this to be unpleasant. If he'd disliked Khari, he wouldn't have approached at all, certainly not with his intended topic. In fact, he'd never intended to get off to a poor start with anyone. If it was merely a side effect of how good he was...
Vesryn reminded himself not to think that way. Not too often, at least.
She followed him easily enough, in any case, apparently deciding that whatever her reservations might have been, they werenât worth the trouble of voicing any further than she already had. Since she didnât seem like the kind of person who ever had a problem saying what she thought, that was probably because she didnât actually have many. Her expression changed, actually, and she raised a hand to tug on one of her ears, something that must have been a thoughtful or unconscious habit. Perhaps even a nervous one, it was impossible to tell. She didnât otherwise seem apprehensive, only puzzled.
âUh⊠okay. So no people then. Whatâs so important we have to talk about it with no people?â
"Well..." Vesryn propped his spear against the wall, shrugging off his shield as well and doing the same. "We obviously didn't get off to the best start, you and I." It was possible that Vesryn actually looked a bit uncomfortable. He knew that the root of this was that this particular conversation was not one he had often, at all. The number of people that knew of Saraya was a small one indeed, and as far as predicting reactions to the information went... Khari was easily the most unknown to him. That Cyrus had been intrigued and Estella had been understanding and cooperative was entirely unsurprising. From Khari, he expected anything from laughter to a right hook, or a headbutt, as she was clearly capable of.
"Since Redcliffe, some information about me has come to light, something only a few of the others know as of yet. It's bound to get around the irregulars eventually, so I thought it best to tell you myself, since it might explain the result of the little spar we had." Vesryn had been bracing himself for the violent reaction from Saraya, but it did not come. She actually seemed accepting of his intention, maybe even a tad curious. Like someone expecting to be disappointed, and perhaps hoping to feel superior as a result. This was something Saraya had displayed before, he knew.
"Tell me, do you know what an Arcane Warrior is? The real variety, not that Knight-Enchanter imitation they practice now."
Khari grimaced, though her reasons for doing so were unclear. âSure. I might be a shitty Dalish, but Iâve always liked stories.â She shrugged. âThey were like⊠the knights of Elvhenan, basically. Mages like the rest, but more inclined to physical combat, or something like that.â She narrowed her eyes at him. âYou werenât holding out on me, were you? Because if you can do magic too and didnât sling a few fireballs at me, Iâm gonna be really mad.â She placed her hands on her hips, and unless the light was playing a trick, there was a tiny little uptick to the corner of her mouth. It seemed the kind of anger she was referring to was a lighter kind than whatever reduced her to snarling inelegance in an actual fight.
Nevertheless, there was a distinct element of seriousness to her words. It would seem she would have preferred to be on the wrong end of the magic, too, if heâd had it.
"If only," Vesryn said with a laugh, loosening up. Perhaps this wouldn't go as poorly as he feared, if her bristle towards him was merely from being bested, and not anything personal. He'd said a few things as taunts in the fight, after all, but it was the Champion's way. Any opponent worth the effort would receive the same treatment. "No, the one moment I held back on you, you broke my nose with your forehead." A rather unpleasant memory; he'd be helmed the next time they fought.
"But yes, you have the right of it. I'm no Arcane Warrior myself, but..." he trailed off. This was more difficult to do when the person hadn't simply come before him, asking what lived inside his mind. "This may be a lot to take in, but the remnant of one such woman exists in my mind. The ancient elves had ways of prolonging life, or existence at least, of individuals, by placing them inside mundane objects. When I was a late teen, I stumbled into a ruin in eastern Ferelden, and... absorbed one such individual." His facial expression was halfway to a wince, and indeed he found it nearly impossible to describe the significance in so few words.
âYou⊠what?â Khariâs mouth pulled to one side, red brows furrowing over the clear light green of her eyes. She shook herself slightly and seemed to ponder that for a second, tipping her head to squint up at him. âYouâre actually serious.â She breathed out what might have been a sigh, as though trying to decide what to do with that. The ear-tugging resumed, at least until she encountered a stray curl, which she tucked behind it. âSo⊠thereâs someone else living in your head or something, and sheâs an arcane warrior? Or was, I guess.â
She frowned. âThatâs uh⊠sure, okay, fine. Weird, but whatever.â Khari nodded, more to herself than him, but she still looked quite perplexed. âBut I mean⊠what does this have to do with you beating me in a fight?â
The confusion part was to be expected. Vesryn had taken several weeks to actually comprehend what had happened to him, and even then the full extent didn't actually settle in until he had learned a thing or two about the place he'd stumbled into. To ask anyone to get it in a mere instant was laughable. "Very weird. Quite possibly the weirdest thing here, and there are weird people all over this place." In fact, him having Saraya in his head made Romulus and Estella stumbling out of a rift at the site of an explosion that killed everyone else nearby much easier to swallow.
"It... wasn't exactly me that beat you. Saraya--that's what she goes by, mind you--I can feel her instincts, her reactions, in my mind, to the point where I can allow them to become my own. Saraya had centuries of experience in the craft of war before what happened to her. I can't access her magic, but with her... I could read your moves practically as you made them. Without her, I doubt I'd have lasted five minutes against you." Saraya was not fond of that assessment, but Vesryn firmly believed it. Her attack was vicious and unrelenting, and without the knowledge of how precisely to weather her, and when exactly to turn her attacks against her, he'd have simply been battered on until he broke.
Khari must have found that amusing in some way, because she laughed, the sound clear and ringing. âHa, youâve got your teacher hanging out in your skull? Thatâs got to be interesting. Iâm not sure whether mine wishes he could have done something like that to force some sense into me, or if he would have been horrified by the very idea.â Her eyes were bright with amusement. âIâd say you were a dirty cheater, but if youâve got a resource, I canât blame you for using it. Or well, accepting her aid, or however youâd put it.â She waved a hand as if to brush aside the semantic question.
âSo I pretty much lasted ten minutes against an ancient elven knight⊠and here my parents thought Iâd never amount to anything worthwhile.â She snickered. âMakes me feel better about losing, Iâve gotta say. But not that much better.â Her expression morphed back into what was swiftly becoming recognizable as her trademark jagged grin. What exactly the thought was that had provoked it, she didnât say.
Vesryn laughed, clearly relieved that she was taking this well, all things considered. "Ah, well, yes... I do believe that if Saraya could speak, she would declare that you would not have lasted half as long against her. Magic thrown into the mix, and all." As expected, Saraya agreed with him, though not entirely. She still believed he was being entirely too generous to Khari's chances. He'd grown rather fond of that feeling, the irritation. Saraya could be infinitely superior to everyone around her all she wanted, but by the Gods, Vesryn was at least going to make her pay for that attitude. Even if he agreed with it, underneath it all.
"Just between you and me," he said, lowering his voice and leaning forward slightly, as though that would prevent Saraya from hearing him, "she doesn't like you. Not in the slightest." He grinned as he said it, evidence that he felt quite the opposite, and garnered no small amount of amusement from the situation.
"She's not fond of many people at all, really. You can imagine what she thought of me when we met. I was a thin, awkward, lanky flat-ear from the slums of Denerim at the time. With arms like twigs." A bit of an embellishment, but not by much. Truly, he was not proud of the physical state he'd been in. But it wasn't something to hide from. He'd worked, at Saraya's urging, and forged himself into something else. Something surely Khari was capable of as well, even without the help of an ancient guide in her head.
âYeah?â Khari replied, apparently indifferent to the declaration of Sarayaâs feelings towards her. âWell sheâd get along great with my clan then. They hate me too. As you can see, Iâm completely devastated by their disdain.â The sarcasm was practically dripping from her tone. Really, she might as well have said âSaraya can shove it.â She paused a moment, perhaps attempting to imagine him with twiggy arms.
âHuh. Well, whatever she made you do, it worked.â She shrugged with evident nonchalance. âGood for you. But if you donât mind, some of us have to muddle our way forward as well as we can without⊠remnants in our head, and for me, that means more practice, as often as possible, soâŠâ She used her thumb to jab the air over her shoulder, indicating her plans to go back the way she came.
"Of course, and I apologize for the interruption," Vesryn replied, with a short bow of thanks. He raised a finger, however. "One more thing, though. Very few people currently know what I just told you. Most don't need to... so if we could avoid spreading this among the troops, I would appreciate it." Perhaps they'd find out, sooner or later, but from an unreliable source, it would probably just turn into rumor, and become warped to the point of unbelievability. But who was he kidding? It was already there.
"And perhaps we can practice together some other time, on more even footing." He trusted she would know what he meant. "I suspect there is much I could learn from a superior opponent."
âCompliments are like molasses, Vesryn. Theyâre sweet if you go in for that kind of thing, but youâd better not lay âem on too thick or youâll get stuck someday.â Khari snorted, seemingly taking the implied status of her abilities to be a bit disingenuous, but it didnât appear to bother her overmuch. She mock-saluted with her first two fingers and turned on her heel, picking up into a swift jog back towards the practice ring.
He'd definitely heard whispering, light and airy, but it was as though some foreign force was preventing him from comprehending the words, or even recognizing words at all, no matter how hard he strained. Like a voice that was perpetually just out of earshot. He was half-tempted to move himself closer to the rift, but at Saraya's apprehension, he kept his distance. She knew far more of magic than she did, and while there was uncertainty that accompanied her hesitance, he had no wish to take any chances.
Experienced and knowledgeable mage though she was, there were still things about their bond to each other that neither understood, mostly due to the fact that this sort of result for them was never supposed to happen. In fact, Vesryn had never managed to glean the exact purpose for Saraya's imprisonment, her stasis. For even if it had been meant as preservation, it had become a prison for her. Without consciousness it might have been akin to a long, deep sleep, but she'd been forced to endure every last moment of those years awake and aware, though at some point the senses likely just gave up with nothing to focus on. It was not something Vesryn could properly imagine.
The sound of clashing arms pulled him from his troubled thoughts, and Vesryn looked upon the training groups of Inquisition infantry, drilling and sparring as they constantly were. They were improving clearly, but new volunteers were often arriving, and these still needed to master the basics. This need would only increase as the Inquisition grew in size and attracted more members.
A still green-looking soldier approached Vesryn as he neared, an excited look upon his face. "Taking up challenges again today, er... Vesryn?" The abrupt hesitation in his speed was undoubtedly caused by an unsureness in what to call him, despite his repeated assertions that simply Vesryn was quite fine. He was no ser, no brother, certainly not a messere to them, despite all appearances. Besides, men calling an elf any of those would be positively scandalous.
He shook his head, patting the recruit on the shoulder. "Not today, I'm afraid. I'd rather not be a disturbance again." There was a time and place for matches with spectacle, when the soldiers needed to blow off steam. This was not one of those times, and distracting the men from their drills would do more harm than good.
The recruit looked clearly disappointed, and was perhaps about to plead, when Vesryn turned his attention further ahead of him. "Khari! A word, if you've a moment?" The elf woman was working vigorously, as she always did, up ahead. In fact, the only reason Vesryn knew she was there was from flashes of bright red hair between the helmets of other soldiers. "I'll spar you another time, if you're so inclined," Vesryn said, to the recruit. He nodded, looking a bit spurned, and jogged off to resume his drills.
âAnd if I donât?â The question, half-growled, was followed by several more clashes of steel on steel, the heavy whistle of a practice blade through air accenting the exchange, which was then brought to an abrupt halt by a furious-sounding growl and the sound of someone being hit with something blunter, which sent one of the other soldiers sideways and several feet laterally into something else with another thud.
It turned out that the ring proper was currently occupied by Khari and what looked like her triad of opponents, one of which had just been shoved into the fence by her foot. One of the others was just picking himself off the ground, and the third, a lightly-armored woman with blue vallaslin, was apparently realizing that flanking was far more difficult when there was no one there to distract the target. Khari whirled to face her and charged at full speed, knocking aside her defenses with a hard stroke of the oversized practice sword and bodychecking her to the ground.
That seemed to be the signal for the match to end, though, because she lowered her blade immediately after, bending to offer the skirmisher a hand up. âPretty cutthroat, arenât you, Thalia?â The one so named smirked a little, nodding.
âOnly sometimes literally.â Khari laughed, trudged over to make sure the other two were doing all right, handing off her practice arm to the one sheâd nearly put through the fence, nodded to the dark-haired chevalier in the crowd, and then at last turned to seek Vesryn, the other drilling soldiers letting her through easily enough.
She didnât look thrilled to be talking to him, and her lack of enthusiasm was clear from her expression. Cocking an eyebrow at him, she crossed her arms over her chest. Her posture wasnât hostile, exactly, just wary, as though she were expecting him to say something she didnât particularly like. âWell⊠I do now, I guess. But Iâm supposing you have more than one word.â
Saraya still didn't like Khari, not in the slightest. Considering that they'd had no real interaction since their last, rather harsh spar, that was unsurprising. Vesryn knew her well enough to know which qualities of the woman rubbed her the wrong way. Khari was obstinate, even in the way she fought. She wasn't naturally built to be a warrior, but she'd forced herself into the shape of one anyway. She fought without an ounce of grace, but instead with pure ferocity and energy to make up for it.
Her life decisions and obvious abandonment of Dalish ways thrown in, and she was the epitome of the square peg trying to fit into a round hole. While Saraya found it a waste of her obvious talent and passion, Vesryn had always found it endearing when someone displayed such an unquenchable passion for something. Not that he yet understood the particular direction of her passion.
For the moment, however, he found the chilly disposition somewhat tiring. A small white cloud ascended from him with his sigh, and he turned to look for a relatively private spot, all while Saraya tried to bore through the smaller elf with eyes she did not have. "I do, yes, but not here. I'd rather get out of earshot. If you'll follow..." A spot along the base of the wall, past the stables, looked good enough.
He didn't want this to be unpleasant. If he'd disliked Khari, he wouldn't have approached at all, certainly not with his intended topic. In fact, he'd never intended to get off to a poor start with anyone. If it was merely a side effect of how good he was...
Vesryn reminded himself not to think that way. Not too often, at least.
She followed him easily enough, in any case, apparently deciding that whatever her reservations might have been, they werenât worth the trouble of voicing any further than she already had. Since she didnât seem like the kind of person who ever had a problem saying what she thought, that was probably because she didnât actually have many. Her expression changed, actually, and she raised a hand to tug on one of her ears, something that must have been a thoughtful or unconscious habit. Perhaps even a nervous one, it was impossible to tell. She didnât otherwise seem apprehensive, only puzzled.
âUh⊠okay. So no people then. Whatâs so important we have to talk about it with no people?â
"Well..." Vesryn propped his spear against the wall, shrugging off his shield as well and doing the same. "We obviously didn't get off to the best start, you and I." It was possible that Vesryn actually looked a bit uncomfortable. He knew that the root of this was that this particular conversation was not one he had often, at all. The number of people that knew of Saraya was a small one indeed, and as far as predicting reactions to the information went... Khari was easily the most unknown to him. That Cyrus had been intrigued and Estella had been understanding and cooperative was entirely unsurprising. From Khari, he expected anything from laughter to a right hook, or a headbutt, as she was clearly capable of.
"Since Redcliffe, some information about me has come to light, something only a few of the others know as of yet. It's bound to get around the irregulars eventually, so I thought it best to tell you myself, since it might explain the result of the little spar we had." Vesryn had been bracing himself for the violent reaction from Saraya, but it did not come. She actually seemed accepting of his intention, maybe even a tad curious. Like someone expecting to be disappointed, and perhaps hoping to feel superior as a result. This was something Saraya had displayed before, he knew.
"Tell me, do you know what an Arcane Warrior is? The real variety, not that Knight-Enchanter imitation they practice now."
Khari grimaced, though her reasons for doing so were unclear. âSure. I might be a shitty Dalish, but Iâve always liked stories.â She shrugged. âThey were like⊠the knights of Elvhenan, basically. Mages like the rest, but more inclined to physical combat, or something like that.â She narrowed her eyes at him. âYou werenât holding out on me, were you? Because if you can do magic too and didnât sling a few fireballs at me, Iâm gonna be really mad.â She placed her hands on her hips, and unless the light was playing a trick, there was a tiny little uptick to the corner of her mouth. It seemed the kind of anger she was referring to was a lighter kind than whatever reduced her to snarling inelegance in an actual fight.
Nevertheless, there was a distinct element of seriousness to her words. It would seem she would have preferred to be on the wrong end of the magic, too, if heâd had it.
"If only," Vesryn said with a laugh, loosening up. Perhaps this wouldn't go as poorly as he feared, if her bristle towards him was merely from being bested, and not anything personal. He'd said a few things as taunts in the fight, after all, but it was the Champion's way. Any opponent worth the effort would receive the same treatment. "No, the one moment I held back on you, you broke my nose with your forehead." A rather unpleasant memory; he'd be helmed the next time they fought.
"But yes, you have the right of it. I'm no Arcane Warrior myself, but..." he trailed off. This was more difficult to do when the person hadn't simply come before him, asking what lived inside his mind. "This may be a lot to take in, but the remnant of one such woman exists in my mind. The ancient elves had ways of prolonging life, or existence at least, of individuals, by placing them inside mundane objects. When I was a late teen, I stumbled into a ruin in eastern Ferelden, and... absorbed one such individual." His facial expression was halfway to a wince, and indeed he found it nearly impossible to describe the significance in so few words.
âYou⊠what?â Khariâs mouth pulled to one side, red brows furrowing over the clear light green of her eyes. She shook herself slightly and seemed to ponder that for a second, tipping her head to squint up at him. âYouâre actually serious.â She breathed out what might have been a sigh, as though trying to decide what to do with that. The ear-tugging resumed, at least until she encountered a stray curl, which she tucked behind it. âSo⊠thereâs someone else living in your head or something, and sheâs an arcane warrior? Or was, I guess.â
She frowned. âThatâs uh⊠sure, okay, fine. Weird, but whatever.â Khari nodded, more to herself than him, but she still looked quite perplexed. âBut I mean⊠what does this have to do with you beating me in a fight?â
The confusion part was to be expected. Vesryn had taken several weeks to actually comprehend what had happened to him, and even then the full extent didn't actually settle in until he had learned a thing or two about the place he'd stumbled into. To ask anyone to get it in a mere instant was laughable. "Very weird. Quite possibly the weirdest thing here, and there are weird people all over this place." In fact, him having Saraya in his head made Romulus and Estella stumbling out of a rift at the site of an explosion that killed everyone else nearby much easier to swallow.
"It... wasn't exactly me that beat you. Saraya--that's what she goes by, mind you--I can feel her instincts, her reactions, in my mind, to the point where I can allow them to become my own. Saraya had centuries of experience in the craft of war before what happened to her. I can't access her magic, but with her... I could read your moves practically as you made them. Without her, I doubt I'd have lasted five minutes against you." Saraya was not fond of that assessment, but Vesryn firmly believed it. Her attack was vicious and unrelenting, and without the knowledge of how precisely to weather her, and when exactly to turn her attacks against her, he'd have simply been battered on until he broke.
Khari must have found that amusing in some way, because she laughed, the sound clear and ringing. âHa, youâve got your teacher hanging out in your skull? Thatâs got to be interesting. Iâm not sure whether mine wishes he could have done something like that to force some sense into me, or if he would have been horrified by the very idea.â Her eyes were bright with amusement. âIâd say you were a dirty cheater, but if youâve got a resource, I canât blame you for using it. Or well, accepting her aid, or however youâd put it.â She waved a hand as if to brush aside the semantic question.
âSo I pretty much lasted ten minutes against an ancient elven knight⊠and here my parents thought Iâd never amount to anything worthwhile.â She snickered. âMakes me feel better about losing, Iâve gotta say. But not that much better.â Her expression morphed back into what was swiftly becoming recognizable as her trademark jagged grin. What exactly the thought was that had provoked it, she didnât say.
Vesryn laughed, clearly relieved that she was taking this well, all things considered. "Ah, well, yes... I do believe that if Saraya could speak, she would declare that you would not have lasted half as long against her. Magic thrown into the mix, and all." As expected, Saraya agreed with him, though not entirely. She still believed he was being entirely too generous to Khari's chances. He'd grown rather fond of that feeling, the irritation. Saraya could be infinitely superior to everyone around her all she wanted, but by the Gods, Vesryn was at least going to make her pay for that attitude. Even if he agreed with it, underneath it all.
"Just between you and me," he said, lowering his voice and leaning forward slightly, as though that would prevent Saraya from hearing him, "she doesn't like you. Not in the slightest." He grinned as he said it, evidence that he felt quite the opposite, and garnered no small amount of amusement from the situation.
"She's not fond of many people at all, really. You can imagine what she thought of me when we met. I was a thin, awkward, lanky flat-ear from the slums of Denerim at the time. With arms like twigs." A bit of an embellishment, but not by much. Truly, he was not proud of the physical state he'd been in. But it wasn't something to hide from. He'd worked, at Saraya's urging, and forged himself into something else. Something surely Khari was capable of as well, even without the help of an ancient guide in her head.
âYeah?â Khari replied, apparently indifferent to the declaration of Sarayaâs feelings towards her. âWell sheâd get along great with my clan then. They hate me too. As you can see, Iâm completely devastated by their disdain.â The sarcasm was practically dripping from her tone. Really, she might as well have said âSaraya can shove it.â She paused a moment, perhaps attempting to imagine him with twiggy arms.
âHuh. Well, whatever she made you do, it worked.â She shrugged with evident nonchalance. âGood for you. But if you donât mind, some of us have to muddle our way forward as well as we can without⊠remnants in our head, and for me, that means more practice, as often as possible, soâŠâ She used her thumb to jab the air over her shoulder, indicating her plans to go back the way she came.
"Of course, and I apologize for the interruption," Vesryn replied, with a short bow of thanks. He raised a finger, however. "One more thing, though. Very few people currently know what I just told you. Most don't need to... so if we could avoid spreading this among the troops, I would appreciate it." Perhaps they'd find out, sooner or later, but from an unreliable source, it would probably just turn into rumor, and become warped to the point of unbelievability. But who was he kidding? It was already there.
"And perhaps we can practice together some other time, on more even footing." He trusted she would know what he meant. "I suspect there is much I could learn from a superior opponent."
âCompliments are like molasses, Vesryn. Theyâre sweet if you go in for that kind of thing, but youâd better not lay âem on too thick or youâll get stuck someday.â Khari snorted, seemingly taking the implied status of her abilities to be a bit disingenuous, but it didnât appear to bother her overmuch. She mock-saluted with her first two fingers and turned on her heel, picking up into a swift jog back towards the practice ring.