The journey back to Skyhold after leaving Asala's town wasn't that eventful. Khari remembered it as several days' worth of being violently ill over the side of a boat. She'd used to think a lot of her constitution, but she definitely wasn't seaworthy. It was embarrassing.
But they were back on solid ground now, and while she wasn't exactly up-to-date on what Anais's plans were, she figured someone would tell her when there was something to be done. If she didn't know before that, well... it wasn't a big deal. At the moment, she had much more concrete matters on her mind, anyhow.
The glass bottle was heavy and stout; from the smell it was brandy or something. She wasn't too fussy about that kind of thing, and she had the inkling that Borja probably wasn't either. But saying potentially-awkward stuff tended to work better when you brought food or drinks to the conversation, so this was her brilliant plan for now. Actually finding him had been a chore and a half; no one seemed to know exactly where he went when he wasn't delivering terse updates from the Speaker, so it had taken a long series of questions and hiking across most of Skyhold to locate what she thought was the right door.
She paused in front of it, rocking back on her heels for a moment. Khari's lips thinned; she raised her hand halfway to knock before dropping it. This really wasn't any of her business. Not even a little bit. Pushing a raspy sigh through her nose, she put her fist back up and knocked anyway.
It might not have been her business, but it was important.
It was a rather secluded corner of the castle, an old crumbling tower yet to be fully repaired, as its location put it up against a sheer cliff face on the other side. Strategically it was deemed mostly unimportant, and so it was given over as temporary lodgings for Borja and a small number of his crew who had made the trek to Skyhold rather than stay with the ship. The sound of loud chatter from inside indicated that the captain was not alone, and that he and his crew were likely already drinking. At the knock on the door, a wooden chair could be heard scraping back across the floor, and heavy footfalls came closer.
It was not Borja that opened the door, but a tall, scruffy, and bundled up man who looked to be in something of a foul mood. He was plainly one of the crew, and propped open the door only a foot or two, peering down at the elf before him. It took him a moment, but he seemed to recognize who she was. "What do you want?" he asked. His tone wasn't hostile, but it was certainly impatient.
Khari, having been subjected to far ruder greetings in her life, wasn't even the least bit fazed. She held up the bottle of whatever-it-was and swished it slightly. “I was hoping to talk to the captain for a bit. About our, uh... mutual friend." That was a pretty subtle way of putting it, for her, even though it would probably still be obvious who she was talking about.
The pirate's eyes went to the bottle when she swished it, and then a voice sounded out from within the room behind him. "Let her in, Ferrous, before all the warm air escapes." The man didn't hesitate then, and stepped aside as he pulled the door open further, allowing Khari entrance.
Borja's crew had set up the ground floor of the tower into a makeshift bar, or so it seemed. They'd helped themselves to a keg of something, which they'd propped up in one of the corners. There were about ten of them inside, most crowded around a long wooden table with benches in the center, where a game of Wicked Grace was in progress. Borja sat with a closely guarded hand on one side, one of his younger crewmen occupying the other. The captain laid down his hand, and judging by the reaction of the rest, it was a winning one.
"Best come prepared next time, son," Borja gently taunted, collecting the cards on the table. "Now why don't you all give us the room for a moment?" A few of the pirates glanced in Khari's direction, before they shuffled to a ladder near the back of the room, and ascended up to the next floor, where they'd presumably set up their sleeping quarters for the night.
Borja shuffled the cards in his hands effortlessly, not even watching as he did so. He studied Khari. "You play cards?"
It didn't seem to be the clothes-betting version of the game, so she nodded. Taking the seat the crewman had occupied, she set the bottle down on the table, out of the way so he could deal her a hand. “Sure I do." She was definitely better at chess by a long shot, because that didn't involve as much of hiding what she was feeling about something.
“What're we betting?" Coppers was standard with the enlisted people, but she didn't want to be too cheap or anything.
"Depends how much you're willing to lose," he replied, almost cracking a smile. "Copper'll do fine. And a cup of whatever that is. Can't be worse than the piss water the boys stole." As it happened, there were a number of cups on the table, some still unused for the night. Borja grabbed his own empty one and set it down within her reach, before he began deftly dealing out hands for both of them. "So what is it you have to say to me?"
She shrugged, delaying a bit by pouring both of them cups first. She chose one for herself that looked clean-ish and was empty, sliding his across the table in an almost-deft way that at least stopped short of the edge and didn't spill everywhere. Khari bent her cards up to peer at them, schooling her facial expression into neutrality as well as she could. It was good but not great, so she plonked a copper onto the table and slid it in towards the middle.
There was really no delicate way that she knew of to say this, but Borja wasn't exactly a master of diplomacy, either, so she figured the direct approach might not get her thrown out immediately. “I think you should talk to Rom more." Blunt as a spoon; her mouth pulled to the side. “I get it—family can be awkward and uncomfortable and unpleasant—but I think you want to and I think he wants you to, so..." she trailed off, upping the bet with another few coppers and waiting for his turn. Both in the game and the conversation, for that matter.
Borja didn't appear too caught off guard by her thoughts, but perhaps that was just his practiced face for card games holding more than anything else. He matched her bet, discarding a card from his hand and drawing another. "My influence has never been good for him, what little I've had." He took a solid drink from his cup, apparently finding it agreeable as he drank deeper. "He'd never have ended up in Minrathous of all places if not for my stupidity. And now because of me he's off chasing the divine, because I couldn't leave well enough alone. Should've learned from Rosamara. Starting to think there was a damn good reason her line stayed hidden."
He shook his head. "No, I missed my chance to be a father, and far as I can tell he's better off for it now that he's with you Inquisition people."
Khari snorted, but the matter was serious, and she treated it that way. Frowning, more from thoughtfulness than because of anything happening in the game, she discarded and drew. That turned out to be a bad move, and the first hand was his.
“I'm not saying you've got to try and parent him, or even influence him or anything." They were clearly past that point, and whether they ever returned to some version of it wasn't something she had the know-how to predict. “But think about it for a second: right now, all Rom knows about his family, really, is whatever Anais is telling him. And all she knows or cares about is the divine stuff. But you... you know the stuff that actually matters. The kind of person his mom was, the things the both of you wanted out of life, all this information about your extended family. Hell, there's a whole side of the family that only you know about: namely yours." She polished off her first cup and poured herself another.
“And Rom doesn't know about any of it. Even if you just end up being really awkward acquaintances or whatever... don't you think he ought to know all that, if he wants to? Don't you want to tell him any of it?"
Perhaps it was just his second hand, but the conversation didn't look to be improving Borja's mood any. It was obviously not a subject he liked to broach with himself, let alone others, though it was entirely possible he'd been doing a great deal of thinking on it lately regardless. "I suppose it's in my nature to hoard things, then," he said, sorting the cards in his hand before he played the serpent of deceit face up on the table, and drew another card. "And maybe that's not fair to him."
He grabbed the bottle Khari had brought, pouring himself more. "I can tell him of the dead, if he wants to hear it. I knew little of Rosamara's, and mine's not particularly inspiring, but... perhaps there's a story that my wife didn't write down in that book of hers. Or some perspective. Our time wasn't all bad, despite what that shit Conrado might say."
Khari grinned. “He plays Mills, if you want to challenge him to a match some afternoon or something. Not sure if he knows any card games." She was content to leave it at that; she'd said her piece, now the rest of it was up to him. Well, them, really.
She won the second hand, but when she lost the third, Khari conceded the game, throwing her hands up in surrender. More because she didn't want to overstay her welcome than because she was averse to trying again. “All right, I call a tactical retreat. You can keep the money and the rest of the booze, hoarder. But don't count on winning next time."
"I count on winning every time," he grumbled, though he actually smiled a little this time. "It's just about acquiring the right cards."
Khari considered possible strategy rules for Wicked Grace all the way back to Skyhold's main building. Dinner seemed like a pretty good idea; it was about the right time for it and she was hungry besides. Most of the eating happened in the front hall of the castle proper, though there were other mess areas for the regulars that didn't involve a trek up there. Since most of the people Khari spent much time with were up there, though, she usually ate with one of them.
Bounding up the staircase, she opened the door just far enough to slide herself in and let it close softly behind her. She could already smell warm food; in the middle of winter, it was probably just about the best thing in the world.
She passed Anais on the way in, raising a hand in greeting. “'Lo, Speaker." As usual, though, the woman moved with purpose in her step, and Khari didn't try to waylay her progress or anything.
Anais appeared to be in an unusually good mood, rivaling the occasion when she had housed Khari and Rom in the small fortress her people had occupied in the Hinterlands. "Maker's blessing be upon you," she greeted, practically bouncing as she walked by. She turned as she passed, walking backwards. "We leave tomorrow, at midday!" It was apparently all she had time to offer, as the Speaker disappeared into a hallway towards the guest quarters of the fortress.
Well, there went her dinner plans. Not knowing until something needed doing was one thing, but apparently, something needed doing and they were doing it tomorrow. Which made today a good time to figure out what 'it' was.
Pursing her lips, Khari shot one last wistful glance at the mess table before heading in the same direction Anais had appeared from. The undercroft was tucked back in a ways; the hallways got progressively warmer as she headed towards it. Khari took off her gloves and stuffed them into her belt, shedding her cloak as well and throwing it over one arm.
Rom's door was open; she leaned in around the doorframe and spotted him at his desk, one of the newer pieces of furniture in the place. It looked like he was reading the journal they'd taken from Conrado; his mother's. “Knock, knock," she said, in lieu of actually doing so. She stepped freely into the room, throwing her cloak over the rail separating the upper part of the room from the main bit, then bracing a hand on it and swinging herself over rather than bothering with stairs.
“Anais pretty much looks like it's her birthday and every other holiday rolled into one, so I'm guessing something happened." She tilted her head at him, offering half a smile.
"We know what we need to do," he said, carefully pushing the journal away a few inches and turning to face her. He rested his right arm on the back of his chair, letting his cheek fall against his bicep. "At least, we know what she thinks we should do." He was obviously deep in thought, and conflicted thought at that. He grabbed the journal again, flipping through a few pages.
"There's so many of them. Some of them barely wrote a page, others wrote dozens. Sometimes there's specific dates, names, places, other times... nothing. But..." He looked up. "They had a bond with each other, mother to daughter, every time. The handwriting is usually a subtle change, you can tell they taught each other, passed on what they knew. Most of them lived peaceful lives, quiet lives. And now me. The break in the chain, in every possible way. I can't tell if I should take all of this as encouragement, or a warning. Maybe this isn't worth risking my life over. Maybe this isn't what they would want me to do."
Oh boy.
She was definitely not qualified to be giving anyone advice about stuff this important.
But... maybe advice wasn't really the right contribution. “So, uh... I might be a little slow on the uptake here, but... what exactly is 'this'? Because it sounds more specific than the whole Inquisition bit, the way you're talking about it?" And Anais's mood seemed more like something that happened because of a particular... decision? Plan? Something like that. Khari folded her arms loosely together over her chest, leaning against the wall with her hip and shoulder.
"It's... a ritual," he explained. "A public test of faith, a way to prove what's in my blood. It was outlined pretty clearly in the journal. The knowledge was passed down generation to generation, in case any of the descendants came to light, and needed to prove themselves. There's some magic involved, but Anais assures me it's nothing she can't handle." Despite his words, he didn't seem to take much reassurance from it.
"It will be dangerous for me. But it wouldn't be a test of faith otherwise."
Khari's arms fell loose back to her sides. A test of faith? That could kill him? She hadn't missed the part where he said risking his life.
She considered that for a slow few moments, fixing her eyes on the ground and furrowing her brow as though the stone underfoot had personally offended her. Ugh. She was so much better at just doing things than trying to consider all the possible consequences.
“All right." She huffed it out on a sigh, more to indicate that she actually had something to say than as an expression of sentiment. She lifted her head and smiled a bit. “You know I'm behind you whatever you decide, Rom. Not that it sounds like there'd be much for me to do or anything." She shrugged, and her expression sobered.
“But I have to ask: why bother doing it? You know who you are. Your friends know. Is it really that important to you that anyone else knows?" If it was, then fine. But if it wasn't, then Khari saw no point in risking so much for it.
"I know you're not religious," he said, half-smiling. "Not with the Chantry. I've never been either, to be honest. I still don't know if I am, despite all of this. But it is important, to the Inquisition. If this is real, and I can prove that, it could bring incredible support to us. It could give us the power to stop the chaos out there, to take down Corypheus the next time he tries to see us dead. I didn't ask for any of this, but now that the opportunity's there, I don't think I can let it pass. My mother and her mother and all the mothers before them passed this down for a reason. And if I have to tie myself to a burning pyre for it... I think it's what I should do."
He looked down a moment, his voice growing significantly quieter. "That's what the ritual entails. Burning, as Andraste did, on a site sacred to her while she was still alive. The Maker, or something in my blood I guess, is supposed to protect me. And then we'll know." He paused, swallowing. "Bad way to go out if it doesn't work, but... for once I have faith. I wish there was something I could ask you to help with, but... I'd like you to be there, at least. It's crazy, I know, but what hasn't been crazy about our lives since we met?"
Khari couldn't help the small noise of disbelief that escaped her. 'Bad' was a bit of an understatement. Burning to death was definitely on her list of worst ways to go. Right above drowning, actually. “Well... okay then. Seems like your mind was pretty made up after all, huh? I'll be there."
She could hardly be against taking the big risk for the big gain, considering what she wanted to achieve with her life, after all. Nothing so important as this, maybe, but still. Some things were just worth it.
“Look at it this way: should be nice and toasty compared to Skyhold winter either way, right?"
Rom couldn't help but let a laugh escape him, a visible amount of tension flooding out of him. "That's one way to look at it." He paused, unable to keep from being serious for long. "And... thanks. One way or another I don't think I'd be here to learn any of this about myself without you. Whatever happens, that won't change."
She grinned. “I know."
But they were back on solid ground now, and while she wasn't exactly up-to-date on what Anais's plans were, she figured someone would tell her when there was something to be done. If she didn't know before that, well... it wasn't a big deal. At the moment, she had much more concrete matters on her mind, anyhow.
The glass bottle was heavy and stout; from the smell it was brandy or something. She wasn't too fussy about that kind of thing, and she had the inkling that Borja probably wasn't either. But saying potentially-awkward stuff tended to work better when you brought food or drinks to the conversation, so this was her brilliant plan for now. Actually finding him had been a chore and a half; no one seemed to know exactly where he went when he wasn't delivering terse updates from the Speaker, so it had taken a long series of questions and hiking across most of Skyhold to locate what she thought was the right door.
She paused in front of it, rocking back on her heels for a moment. Khari's lips thinned; she raised her hand halfway to knock before dropping it. This really wasn't any of her business. Not even a little bit. Pushing a raspy sigh through her nose, she put her fist back up and knocked anyway.
It might not have been her business, but it was important.
It was a rather secluded corner of the castle, an old crumbling tower yet to be fully repaired, as its location put it up against a sheer cliff face on the other side. Strategically it was deemed mostly unimportant, and so it was given over as temporary lodgings for Borja and a small number of his crew who had made the trek to Skyhold rather than stay with the ship. The sound of loud chatter from inside indicated that the captain was not alone, and that he and his crew were likely already drinking. At the knock on the door, a wooden chair could be heard scraping back across the floor, and heavy footfalls came closer.
It was not Borja that opened the door, but a tall, scruffy, and bundled up man who looked to be in something of a foul mood. He was plainly one of the crew, and propped open the door only a foot or two, peering down at the elf before him. It took him a moment, but he seemed to recognize who she was. "What do you want?" he asked. His tone wasn't hostile, but it was certainly impatient.
Khari, having been subjected to far ruder greetings in her life, wasn't even the least bit fazed. She held up the bottle of whatever-it-was and swished it slightly. “I was hoping to talk to the captain for a bit. About our, uh... mutual friend." That was a pretty subtle way of putting it, for her, even though it would probably still be obvious who she was talking about.
The pirate's eyes went to the bottle when she swished it, and then a voice sounded out from within the room behind him. "Let her in, Ferrous, before all the warm air escapes." The man didn't hesitate then, and stepped aside as he pulled the door open further, allowing Khari entrance.
Borja's crew had set up the ground floor of the tower into a makeshift bar, or so it seemed. They'd helped themselves to a keg of something, which they'd propped up in one of the corners. There were about ten of them inside, most crowded around a long wooden table with benches in the center, where a game of Wicked Grace was in progress. Borja sat with a closely guarded hand on one side, one of his younger crewmen occupying the other. The captain laid down his hand, and judging by the reaction of the rest, it was a winning one.
"Best come prepared next time, son," Borja gently taunted, collecting the cards on the table. "Now why don't you all give us the room for a moment?" A few of the pirates glanced in Khari's direction, before they shuffled to a ladder near the back of the room, and ascended up to the next floor, where they'd presumably set up their sleeping quarters for the night.
Borja shuffled the cards in his hands effortlessly, not even watching as he did so. He studied Khari. "You play cards?"
It didn't seem to be the clothes-betting version of the game, so she nodded. Taking the seat the crewman had occupied, she set the bottle down on the table, out of the way so he could deal her a hand. “Sure I do." She was definitely better at chess by a long shot, because that didn't involve as much of hiding what she was feeling about something.
“What're we betting?" Coppers was standard with the enlisted people, but she didn't want to be too cheap or anything.
"Depends how much you're willing to lose," he replied, almost cracking a smile. "Copper'll do fine. And a cup of whatever that is. Can't be worse than the piss water the boys stole." As it happened, there were a number of cups on the table, some still unused for the night. Borja grabbed his own empty one and set it down within her reach, before he began deftly dealing out hands for both of them. "So what is it you have to say to me?"
She shrugged, delaying a bit by pouring both of them cups first. She chose one for herself that looked clean-ish and was empty, sliding his across the table in an almost-deft way that at least stopped short of the edge and didn't spill everywhere. Khari bent her cards up to peer at them, schooling her facial expression into neutrality as well as she could. It was good but not great, so she plonked a copper onto the table and slid it in towards the middle.
There was really no delicate way that she knew of to say this, but Borja wasn't exactly a master of diplomacy, either, so she figured the direct approach might not get her thrown out immediately. “I think you should talk to Rom more." Blunt as a spoon; her mouth pulled to the side. “I get it—family can be awkward and uncomfortable and unpleasant—but I think you want to and I think he wants you to, so..." she trailed off, upping the bet with another few coppers and waiting for his turn. Both in the game and the conversation, for that matter.
Borja didn't appear too caught off guard by her thoughts, but perhaps that was just his practiced face for card games holding more than anything else. He matched her bet, discarding a card from his hand and drawing another. "My influence has never been good for him, what little I've had." He took a solid drink from his cup, apparently finding it agreeable as he drank deeper. "He'd never have ended up in Minrathous of all places if not for my stupidity. And now because of me he's off chasing the divine, because I couldn't leave well enough alone. Should've learned from Rosamara. Starting to think there was a damn good reason her line stayed hidden."
He shook his head. "No, I missed my chance to be a father, and far as I can tell he's better off for it now that he's with you Inquisition people."
Khari snorted, but the matter was serious, and she treated it that way. Frowning, more from thoughtfulness than because of anything happening in the game, she discarded and drew. That turned out to be a bad move, and the first hand was his.
“I'm not saying you've got to try and parent him, or even influence him or anything." They were clearly past that point, and whether they ever returned to some version of it wasn't something she had the know-how to predict. “But think about it for a second: right now, all Rom knows about his family, really, is whatever Anais is telling him. And all she knows or cares about is the divine stuff. But you... you know the stuff that actually matters. The kind of person his mom was, the things the both of you wanted out of life, all this information about your extended family. Hell, there's a whole side of the family that only you know about: namely yours." She polished off her first cup and poured herself another.
“And Rom doesn't know about any of it. Even if you just end up being really awkward acquaintances or whatever... don't you think he ought to know all that, if he wants to? Don't you want to tell him any of it?"
Perhaps it was just his second hand, but the conversation didn't look to be improving Borja's mood any. It was obviously not a subject he liked to broach with himself, let alone others, though it was entirely possible he'd been doing a great deal of thinking on it lately regardless. "I suppose it's in my nature to hoard things, then," he said, sorting the cards in his hand before he played the serpent of deceit face up on the table, and drew another card. "And maybe that's not fair to him."
He grabbed the bottle Khari had brought, pouring himself more. "I can tell him of the dead, if he wants to hear it. I knew little of Rosamara's, and mine's not particularly inspiring, but... perhaps there's a story that my wife didn't write down in that book of hers. Or some perspective. Our time wasn't all bad, despite what that shit Conrado might say."
Khari grinned. “He plays Mills, if you want to challenge him to a match some afternoon or something. Not sure if he knows any card games." She was content to leave it at that; she'd said her piece, now the rest of it was up to him. Well, them, really.
She won the second hand, but when she lost the third, Khari conceded the game, throwing her hands up in surrender. More because she didn't want to overstay her welcome than because she was averse to trying again. “All right, I call a tactical retreat. You can keep the money and the rest of the booze, hoarder. But don't count on winning next time."
"I count on winning every time," he grumbled, though he actually smiled a little this time. "It's just about acquiring the right cards."
Khari considered possible strategy rules for Wicked Grace all the way back to Skyhold's main building. Dinner seemed like a pretty good idea; it was about the right time for it and she was hungry besides. Most of the eating happened in the front hall of the castle proper, though there were other mess areas for the regulars that didn't involve a trek up there. Since most of the people Khari spent much time with were up there, though, she usually ate with one of them.
Bounding up the staircase, she opened the door just far enough to slide herself in and let it close softly behind her. She could already smell warm food; in the middle of winter, it was probably just about the best thing in the world.
She passed Anais on the way in, raising a hand in greeting. “'Lo, Speaker." As usual, though, the woman moved with purpose in her step, and Khari didn't try to waylay her progress or anything.
Anais appeared to be in an unusually good mood, rivaling the occasion when she had housed Khari and Rom in the small fortress her people had occupied in the Hinterlands. "Maker's blessing be upon you," she greeted, practically bouncing as she walked by. She turned as she passed, walking backwards. "We leave tomorrow, at midday!" It was apparently all she had time to offer, as the Speaker disappeared into a hallway towards the guest quarters of the fortress.
Well, there went her dinner plans. Not knowing until something needed doing was one thing, but apparently, something needed doing and they were doing it tomorrow. Which made today a good time to figure out what 'it' was.
Pursing her lips, Khari shot one last wistful glance at the mess table before heading in the same direction Anais had appeared from. The undercroft was tucked back in a ways; the hallways got progressively warmer as she headed towards it. Khari took off her gloves and stuffed them into her belt, shedding her cloak as well and throwing it over one arm.
Rom's door was open; she leaned in around the doorframe and spotted him at his desk, one of the newer pieces of furniture in the place. It looked like he was reading the journal they'd taken from Conrado; his mother's. “Knock, knock," she said, in lieu of actually doing so. She stepped freely into the room, throwing her cloak over the rail separating the upper part of the room from the main bit, then bracing a hand on it and swinging herself over rather than bothering with stairs.
“Anais pretty much looks like it's her birthday and every other holiday rolled into one, so I'm guessing something happened." She tilted her head at him, offering half a smile.
"We know what we need to do," he said, carefully pushing the journal away a few inches and turning to face her. He rested his right arm on the back of his chair, letting his cheek fall against his bicep. "At least, we know what she thinks we should do." He was obviously deep in thought, and conflicted thought at that. He grabbed the journal again, flipping through a few pages.
"There's so many of them. Some of them barely wrote a page, others wrote dozens. Sometimes there's specific dates, names, places, other times... nothing. But..." He looked up. "They had a bond with each other, mother to daughter, every time. The handwriting is usually a subtle change, you can tell they taught each other, passed on what they knew. Most of them lived peaceful lives, quiet lives. And now me. The break in the chain, in every possible way. I can't tell if I should take all of this as encouragement, or a warning. Maybe this isn't worth risking my life over. Maybe this isn't what they would want me to do."
Oh boy.
She was definitely not qualified to be giving anyone advice about stuff this important.
But... maybe advice wasn't really the right contribution. “So, uh... I might be a little slow on the uptake here, but... what exactly is 'this'? Because it sounds more specific than the whole Inquisition bit, the way you're talking about it?" And Anais's mood seemed more like something that happened because of a particular... decision? Plan? Something like that. Khari folded her arms loosely together over her chest, leaning against the wall with her hip and shoulder.
"It's... a ritual," he explained. "A public test of faith, a way to prove what's in my blood. It was outlined pretty clearly in the journal. The knowledge was passed down generation to generation, in case any of the descendants came to light, and needed to prove themselves. There's some magic involved, but Anais assures me it's nothing she can't handle." Despite his words, he didn't seem to take much reassurance from it.
"It will be dangerous for me. But it wouldn't be a test of faith otherwise."
Khari's arms fell loose back to her sides. A test of faith? That could kill him? She hadn't missed the part where he said risking his life.
She considered that for a slow few moments, fixing her eyes on the ground and furrowing her brow as though the stone underfoot had personally offended her. Ugh. She was so much better at just doing things than trying to consider all the possible consequences.
“All right." She huffed it out on a sigh, more to indicate that she actually had something to say than as an expression of sentiment. She lifted her head and smiled a bit. “You know I'm behind you whatever you decide, Rom. Not that it sounds like there'd be much for me to do or anything." She shrugged, and her expression sobered.
“But I have to ask: why bother doing it? You know who you are. Your friends know. Is it really that important to you that anyone else knows?" If it was, then fine. But if it wasn't, then Khari saw no point in risking so much for it.
"I know you're not religious," he said, half-smiling. "Not with the Chantry. I've never been either, to be honest. I still don't know if I am, despite all of this. But it is important, to the Inquisition. If this is real, and I can prove that, it could bring incredible support to us. It could give us the power to stop the chaos out there, to take down Corypheus the next time he tries to see us dead. I didn't ask for any of this, but now that the opportunity's there, I don't think I can let it pass. My mother and her mother and all the mothers before them passed this down for a reason. And if I have to tie myself to a burning pyre for it... I think it's what I should do."
He looked down a moment, his voice growing significantly quieter. "That's what the ritual entails. Burning, as Andraste did, on a site sacred to her while she was still alive. The Maker, or something in my blood I guess, is supposed to protect me. And then we'll know." He paused, swallowing. "Bad way to go out if it doesn't work, but... for once I have faith. I wish there was something I could ask you to help with, but... I'd like you to be there, at least. It's crazy, I know, but what hasn't been crazy about our lives since we met?"
Khari couldn't help the small noise of disbelief that escaped her. 'Bad' was a bit of an understatement. Burning to death was definitely on her list of worst ways to go. Right above drowning, actually. “Well... okay then. Seems like your mind was pretty made up after all, huh? I'll be there."
She could hardly be against taking the big risk for the big gain, considering what she wanted to achieve with her life, after all. Nothing so important as this, maybe, but still. Some things were just worth it.
“Look at it this way: should be nice and toasty compared to Skyhold winter either way, right?"
Rom couldn't help but let a laugh escape him, a visible amount of tension flooding out of him. "That's one way to look at it." He paused, unable to keep from being serious for long. "And... thanks. One way or another I don't think I'd be here to learn any of this about myself without you. Whatever happens, that won't change."
She grinned. “I know."