She doesn’t expect them to come, but they arrive anyway.
She turns her milky gaze to the one who arrives first—the young boy who was so new to the land and yet threw himself into the war like a seasoned fighter. He bled for Tephra and fought for her and there is a piece of her heart that warms at the sight of him, injured though he may be. “You have already been so helpful for Tephra, Jakub.” She knows the path before him is long and winding and that there are ghosts that live within the corners of his mind, but she has faith that he will find his way.
“You will be promoted to Beta of Tephra. I expect you will rise further than that soon enough.”
She has a Council to fill, after all, and she knows that he would show himself to be one of the most loyal of Tephrans in time. Still, he asked her a question and she doesn’t intend to just answer him with riddles. Instead, her depthless gaze moves to the horizon, past the stone sky where the light filters through the ash as it drifts down. When she brings it back to him, her gaze remains unreadable. “We have need to ensuring that our members are safe and remain unharmed. Do what you can to check on them. Find those that were sent elsewhere in the battle and bring them back home, should they wish to come here.”
Her lips remain neutral on her face, neither curving nor pulling downward, but there is a faint warmth behind her milky gaze—a shadow of the woman she had been before the magic took root. She feels the flowers blooming around her feet and she pulls the magic from the ground into a single golden light that she sends his way, wrapping it around him and healing the wounds that she can find, sinking into his flesh.
“Call to me when you find someone in need of healing, and I will be there as soon as I can.”
A pause.
“I will be listening.”
But her attention is snagged on the other magician, disrupting the ash and folding overlarge wings by his sides. She feels something flare in her chest—a recognition, an intimacy that she would never have imagined possible. But that was the aftermath of sharing someone’s magic with them; that was the glow of knowing someone’s own heart in such a way. “Brennen,” she breathes, and it feels right on her tongue, as if she had said it before. “My name is Leliana.” She knows that he knows; just as she is sure that she knows their connection. But it feels good to still use more conventional methods of communication.
Her eyes find his, just a crinkle of something that fades as quickly as it arrives.
“You didn’t need to help us,” she finally whispers, “but I am eternally glad you did.”
@[Jakub] @[Brennen]