Eldy thinks she can recognize that look: she rarely had access to a mirror the year of the Blight, the year she'd been on the run and trying to muster an army, but she looks at the blonde young woman and thinks, yes, I've been in your shoes.
It's early enough that Inquisitor Iona would have been fully in her rights to still be in bed. Early enough to melt away, avoid. Velanna's certainly lost none of her Dalish skills over the years. Except, no, she shouldn't have thought about Velanna, because Maker only knows where she is now. Dead? Thrown herself into the Deep Roads or cut down by her fellow wardens in whatever struggle has happened in Eldy's absence? Vanished?
She doesn't know. She doesn't know, and it's a constant prickle of guilt and unease under her skin. But this woman standing in front of her wouldn't know where Velanna is, where Oghren, where Sigrun, where Nathaniel, where Sadie, where Ben where Isk where- where any of her people are. They are Eldiana Surana's people, not Iona of Clan Lavellan's. Maybe Leliana might have some names on file, and Eldy is going to track down her best friend later and ask, but there's no point in any demands.
A lifetime of self-control as a mage is, she's long since worked out, useful in politics, too.
"I wasn't expecting to see you so early," Eldy begins. She has a... Well, when people are unkind, they call her voice 'prissy', and she can't really argue with them. It's a high, feminine, very precise voice with all those educated vowels. It can put people off their guard, make them dismiss her despite her intensity. It can also annoy the heck out of others. Hopefully, it won't annoy the Inquisitor. "And I would like to say thank you, for letting me and my people stay here as we travel back home. I do appreciate that courtesy."
People come here all the time, Eldy knows. But this is Iona's fortress, her home in many ways, and no matter that she didn't punish the Warden Order for whatever stupidity happened at Adamant, Eldy doesn't want to take it for granted. Nor does she want to give the impression of taking it for granted.
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It's early enough that Inquisitor Iona would have been fully in her rights to still be in bed. Early enough to melt away, avoid. Velanna's certainly lost none of her Dalish skills over the years. Except, no, she shouldn't have thought about Velanna, because Maker only knows where she is now. Dead? Thrown herself into the Deep Roads or cut down by her fellow wardens in whatever struggle has happened in Eldy's absence? Vanished?
She doesn't know. She doesn't know, and it's a constant prickle of guilt and unease under her skin. But this woman standing in front of her wouldn't know where Velanna is, where Oghren, where Sigrun, where Nathaniel, where Sadie, where Ben where Isk where- where any of her people are. They are Eldiana Surana's people, not Iona of Clan Lavellan's. Maybe Leliana might have some names on file, and Eldy is going to track down her best friend later and ask, but there's no point in any demands.
A lifetime of self-control as a mage is, she's long since worked out, useful in politics, too.
"I wasn't expecting to see you so early," Eldy begins. She has a... Well, when people are unkind, they call her voice 'prissy', and she can't really argue with them. It's a high, feminine, very precise voice with all those educated vowels. It can put people off their guard, make them dismiss her despite her intensity. It can also annoy the heck out of others. Hopefully, it won't annoy the Inquisitor. "And I would like to say thank you, for letting me and my people stay here as we travel back home. I do appreciate that courtesy."
People come here all the time, Eldy knows. But this is Iona's fortress, her home in many ways, and no matter that she didn't punish the Warden Order for whatever stupidity happened at Adamant, Eldy doesn't want to take it for granted. Nor does she want to give the impression of taking it for granted.