Politics have never been Leliana’s forte. She never truly considered herself getting involved and she therefore never spend much time trying to learn the ropes of it. She was more interested in learning how to master her own healing powers, in spending time with her sister watching the waves come in—and, if she is being honest, tangled with the drama that seemed to follow here wherever she went.
It was more than enough to occupy her time.
But now—well, now she does not have such luxuries. Now, she finds herself with a crown atop her brow and a cause burning in her chest and a sword just waiting for her to pick it up. She finds herself breathing war into Beqanna, with enemies and political intrigue that she has never been able to truly sort out. Even with all of her gifts and powers—even with this newfound strength—she knows she cannot do it alone.
She needs allies and warriors but, perhaps more importantly, she needs advisors. She needs those that she can trust to see what she cannot. Those with experience in such things. Perhaps it is this more than anything that has her seeking out the company of the pale mare. Leliana arrives by her side with flowers blooming in her mane, her golden eyes studying the mare’s face without trying to hide her curiosity.
“Ryatah,” she says her name softly, not needing volume for her voice to carry anymore. Once upon a time, she would have asked how she was. how she felt, how her children were. She would have focused on family and love and friendship above all else, but such sensibilities have been burned out of her now. Instead she just stands, quiet and stoic, the plants at her feet beginning to wind up her legs.
“I assume you have heard.”
She doesn’t specify what. She doesn’t feel like explanation is necessary—not anymore.
@[Ryatah]
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