entrancelogs | blessed are they who stand before

Entry tags:

blessed are they who stand before

Who: leliana & robyn, leliana & cullen, and leliana & OPEN
Where: around the mansion
When: april 16-20
Rating: pg-13??
Summary: killin' some zombies. and some friends. oops.
The Story:

WITH ONE SWIFT STRIKE HE PIERCED HER HEART ( CLOSED TO ROBYN )

It's hard to keep track of everyone in this chaos. After the first day of running, hiding, and fighting, Leliana mostly gives up on keeping track of everyone she's concerned about. But as the event wears on and she doesn't see certain people, she abandons her crusade of killing as many of these monsters as possible while herding others to safety. Just long enough to track down certain parties.

It's mildly annoying how long it takes her to find Robyn. But any annoyance Leliana feels goes flying straight out the window when she sees the state of her friend. Breath caught in her throat, she rushes over to the small bit of safety Robyn has managed to carve out for herself and reaches out for her. Gloved hands hover over her, not daring to touch her quite yet. Her gaze is locked on the bloody bite on Robyn's arm. She paid attention to the informative posts on the device the day this all started. She knows what that means.

"Merde," she breathes. "How long has it been?"

NOW HER HAND IS RAISED, A SWORD TO PIERCE THE SUN ( CLOSED TO CULLEN )

By midday on the eighteenth, Leliana is beginning to tire. She's been catching naps over the past few days in barricaded rooms, but hasn't had any real, good sleep since all this started. It's not the longest time she's done this--the Arbor Wilds was about three days as well--but exhaustion is slowly creeping up on her. That is how she finds herself caught fighting three runners.

She grits her teeth and curses under her breath, knives flashing. She's angry with herself for letting this happen. She's angry that she's trapped in a place where things like this are relatively normal. And she's downright peeved that she's out of arrows. It makes her strikes a little harder, a little more vicious.

At least until a runner bites her arm. The bite doesn't go through her leather gloves or her chainmail, but it throws off her balance. "Maker!" she reaches out with her other hand, driving her knife into the thing's skull. But another runner comes at her from behind as she does, and she hasn't the time to turn around. Now would be a good time for unexpected back-up.

WHERE THEY TOUCHED THE EARTH, TWISTED DARKNESS GREW ( OPEN )

The first days are mostly spent fighting. Leliana prowls the halls of the mansion, looking for those cornered by the monsters or trying to get to safety. When she needs to, she breaks for food and rest, usually barricading herself in a room and sleeping with her knives on her lap. It's dangerous. But better that than fumble for them if she gets woken by the creatures.

As the days drag on, it gets harder to focus. Dark circles appear under her eyes and her armor is stained with viscera--some fresh, some old. By day four she's less concerned about helping other people and more concerned about getting out of this alive. Oh, she'll lend a hand if she sees someone in a bad situation, but she's more likely to greet strangers with a suspicious look and a question about infection than anything else.

This is worse than the Deep Roads, really. And she hated the Deep Roads.

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She barely notices Leliana's presence... at first. Once she does, it's in a sharp, rigid motion, eyes widening (reddening in the whites), body trembling (hand instinctively raising to close tight around her injured arm). The Warden swallows with difficulty, staring up at the other woman as if she'd posed the question in another language.

"I--" It's a breath, barely audible. "... Hours. I think, I-- I don't know."

She'd lost track of time, after. After the attack, after... the conversation. After sending Alistair away. Then, Robyn had sought out a safe corner, or at least one without any of the residents or monsters, and she'd taken a poultice, to be sure, had considered what having the arm removed from the elbow down might do, but it had been far too late. So, she'd been faced with two options and neither of them was to do nothing, because doing nothing meant choosing to turn into a... into one of those people.

A toxin in the body that will slowly transform you into a creature if you don't end things yourself. She wouldn't ever die in the Deep Roads, according to Leliana. She would die with the Archdemon. And she would die here, though the method...

In her other hand is one of her own daggers, clean and bright metal. Her pouch is at her side and contains a few of the poisons she'd learned to make on their journey across Ferelden.

"You shouldn't be here," Robyn says finally, quietly.

Anders would have thought living in a grand, fully-functional mansion in the middle of a monster infestation would make things more bearable. Funnily enough, being attacked by every screaming banshee that looks his way still sucks even with indoor plumbing.

Evenings are by far the worst. When it gets dark, it's too dangerous to turn on lights for those zombies still hunting by sight and all night long he has to listen to their grunting and wailing unless he feels like spending the energy on a muting spell.

Augh. But hey, at least there are pillows and porcelain toilets.

He meets Leliana quite by accident when he's heading upstairs to retreat to a room for the night. Finding a runner in his way, he tries to be quick about dispatching it before it can give away his position, stunning it to squelch its shouts and then lighting it aflame. In the burst of orange light that follows the final spell, he thinks he sees another looming in the shadows--but the figure doesn't attack.

He's developed a new policy since this all started. If it doesn't immediately let out an uncanny screech like a dying dracolisk, it's probably human. Probably.

"Evening."

With Brennan in tow Cullen had an opportunity - a mandatory and entirely unnecessary opportunity - to sleep in shifts for a few hours. They've since been separated for a while, and Cullen has taken to scouring the rooms for supplies. A closet spits out a single skin of water, which he hurriedly packs away at the commotion outside.

A familiar flurry of knives whirls past his view, and Cullen hurries outside, just on time to put a shield between them and another attacker's teeth. He shoves the infected man to the ground, and stabs down with his sword. Two down, one--

"To your left!"

She's turning as he finishes speaking, reversing her grip on her knife so she can stab the runner in the eye. Grimacing, she pulls the blade free and wipes it on her leathers. This event is awful. Even when they were dealing with darkspawn back home, it was never this many at one time. Not until the end when they had an army at their backs.

"Thank you, Cullen," she says. Wipes at her sweaty forehead and leaves a streak of grime behind. "That was good timing."

Leliana pauses, then, giving him a once-over. "You're doing alright?" No bites, she means, or no signs of changing because of the spores they're inevitably breathing in.

From her place in the shadows, Leliana looks Anders over. Not seeing any signs of bites or anything she would associate with turning (which, admittedly, is based on her experiences with darkspawn and little else) she steps forward and gives him a wan smile.

"Ser Silly Mage Hat."

She remembers him now. From Kirkwall, when she was there investigating things for Justinia. But this Anders looks younger, less harried than he had then. At this point, she's more inclined to question that later. Too much chaos to worry about whether he has or hasn't blown up a chantry yet.

"You seem to be doing well for yourself."

"Bullshit," she spits out. It's not the sort of curse she prefers, but it's the best word for the moment.

Because like hell she shouldn't be here. This is exactly where she should be. Void, she should have been here earlier. Maybe then... But, no. Thinking about that is not going to help anyone. Least of all Robyn.

She reaches out, gently grips Robyn's arm at the elbow and the wrist so she can take a closer look at the bite. It's bad. Leliana may not know anything about this toxin, but it's easy enough to see that. And if Robyn's face and demeanor are anything to go by, it won't be long until it gets even worse.

"Maker..." This is the sort of story without a very good ending. Leliana lets go of Robyn's arm, and holds her hand in both of her own instead. "I'm so sorry, Robyn."

It takes him a second to tie together the face, the accent, and the ridiculous nickname. He laughs despite himself. "You remembered."

Not him, but the silly name she'd given him back before she'd taken some cats off of his hands. He'd almost forgotten it himself until now.

"You don't know how glad I am it's you and not another one of these things." They are annoying when they attack in numbers. "I've been lucky so far with some spells to ward off spores and narrowly avoiding a few close calls. How about you? Where are you headed at this time? I was about to collect my cats and take a moment to rest. We could go together. Safer that way."

The curse has her look up in surprise, almost as if she's a child being chastised by her mother, but then she merely drops her gaze to stare dully ahead, finally settling with her chin resting on the knee she'd drawn close to herself. Leliana is her friend, of course she'd want to be here to... help. Even if there isn't anything more to do. As long as the other woman doesn't suggest she could have prevented it, Robyn won't argue. It had been her own failing that had let this happen and she won't let anyone else take credit for that mistake.

"You shouldn't be," she says softly, looking up to meet Leliana's gaze again. "I'm only sorry-- so sorry that you... would have to go through this more than once."

To see her die. To know that she is going to die, even if, this time, she'll come back.

"I can deal with this," the Warden speaks quietly. "It isn't your burden to bear."

Not hers to deal with or carry out. To demonstrate her sincerity (despite the fact that it hasn't been carried out yet), Robyn withdraws her dagger, pressing her thumb against the edge until it goes white, and then, admits a single bead of blood.

She tilts her head in acknowledgement. Details and little moments like that are things she hoards. One never knows when they might come in handy--like now, when they could use a little levity in the midst of this terrible event.

Leliana mulls over her answer for a moment, debating whether she should lie and continue on her own, or trust him. This man who may one day go on to do a terrible thing that she can't even begin to condone.

"I was looking for a place to rest," she says finally. "And perhaps something to eat. It's--been a long day." Which is quite possibly the understatement of the century.

Her hears leaps into her throat as she watches Robyn draw her dagger. This--this is not right. For so many reasons that she can't even begin to articulate.

She places her hand over Robyn's. "I would rather bear it with you," she says, "Then leave you to bear it alone."

And it's the truth. It hurts to know that she is going to see Robyn dead a second time. Even so, she would rather it be like this than the alternative. She fought at Robyn's side at Fort Drakon. She watched as she struck the final blow and died along with the Archdemon. If she had been left behind before, if all she had at the end was the sight of her lifeless body and a story of what happened... part of her thinks that would be worse in many ways.

At least this time she doesn't have to watch Alistair cave in on himself as he realizes just what's happened to his fellow Warden. It is the smallest of mercies.

A smudge of blood adds to his coat. He listens for sounds, and in the quiet dares to sheathe his sword.

"So far."

He makes a small gesture of spreading his arms. Hardly a thorough check, least of all between the dirt and wear of three days' combat, but he shows no obvious tears or wounds - Cullen thinks the meaning clear enough.

"Yourself?"

He saw the Runner's bite, and dreads to think what it might do in a lesser guarded place. She's travelled with the Wardens, she's faced more similar things than you, he reminds himself, and forces down the concern in his voice. However--

"The spores are spreading, they were nearly on the fourth floor, last I saw. You have a mask on you?"

"You can say that again. It feels as though they're growing in number every hour." He casts a look left and right as if expecting one or two to burst out of a room, summoned by their talking about them. At least when fighting darkspawn he knew he was immune to their taint.

"I went out this morning to see if the vegetable garden was still intact--that was a hairy hour, let me tell you. But I made away with a bit of spring harvest. Provided it's still there, I stashed it and some other food in a room. I'm willing to share."

It'd be beyond ironic if they had to go hungry while living in a rich place like this, not to mention ridiculous.

Robyn relinquishes her tight grip when Leliana covers her hand with her own, but she doesn't give up the weapon completely. She can't, not when there's another poison in her body fighting for control over her mind and movements, and... if she lets it be, other people will be hurt. She won't be herself anymore.

"We were trying to keep those creatures at bay, Alistair and I," she says quietly, looking up again. The whites of her eyes haven't reddened, but faint, pink veins stretch across them. There's also a twinge of anger in her voice (anger at herself, of course, at her own failure) that... truthfully, would likely be there in this situation, infection or no.

"We fought so many of them. I thought our armor was enough."

It hadn't been. Not for her.

"He's safe," she breathes, because that can keep her from tumbling over the brink. "He wasn't injured, I-- I sent him away."

He'd left, of course. He's a friend, a fellow Warden, but still, in so many ways, a stranger. Robyn lets her chin fall again, shutting her eyes tight, feeling something burn, distantly, within herself.

"You aren't hurt?" the Warden asks, lifting her chin again, searching Leliana's face.

"I'm well."

Enough, anyway. She's been bit over her armor a few times, but nothing has broken through to skin. It's a little frightening each time it happens, but not so frightening as having to check all her wounds for signs of the Blight back when she traveled with the Warden.

How none of them came out of that for the worse is beyond her. Perhaps it was Andraste looking after them when they needed it. That's a nice thought. And something to think about when she isn't covered in gore and exhausted.

Leliana shakes her head at Cullen's second question. "No. I had one before but..." She seems to have misplaced it while she was napping last.

"We should move. Find more supplies and see if there is anyone else getting attacked," she says, sheathing her daggers. "Unless you had other plans?"

Leliana's stomach gurgles, which is really answer enough. She frowns down at herself for a moment--her body's not supposed to obviously betray her like this--but sighs and nods.

"Fresh food sounds wonderful. Thank you." She gives a little bow and gestures with one arm down the hall. "After you, ser."

She may have chosen to trust him for now, but her (understandable, given her occupation) paranoia won't let her turn her back on him. Especially not when she's fatigued and hungry.

Leliana shakes her head. "No, I'm not hurt."

She's been bit once or twice, but she's covered in so much chainmail and leather that nothing has gone through to skin. So, no, she's not hurt in the physical sense. In the emotional sense? Her heart aches. For Robyn and Alistair both.

"It's good that he's alright." Maybe not so good that Robyn sent him away, but she's not going to say that. Not now when the Warden is dying. "I will check up on him for you, if you like."

Once Robyn is... gone.

Do his ears betray him or had that been... a tummy rumble?

"Oh, was that you? I was worried that growl was another monster sneaking up on us," he jests. Which isn't... that far out of the realm of possibility when some of these zombies have been lying in wait to attack the first person that crosses his path. So maybe not that funny.

Some light banter, at least, helps burn some of the tension out of him. His tone remains light as he turns to head up the stairs, speaking over his shoulder. "And just Anders will do. I feel like living and fighting in a magical realm together puts us on a first name basis."

And he's no "ser," besides. Just a mage. A badly behaved mage if one believes the stories about the future, for that matter.

It's relief enough to hear that Leliana is safe, at least for now, and she continues to clasp the other's hand, squeezing weakly. The safety of her group, of her friends, has always been the most important thing to her, and... at least they've managed to go without harm thus far.

"It was careless," the Warden breathes, gaze drifting automatically to her arm, raising her hand to thumb around the bite, beneath where her bracer had once been. "But I couldn't leave those left in the mansion to flee, myself. You know I couldn't."

Safety for herself means nothing, not if others are still fighting and trying to protect their temporary home and loved ones despite the danger.

"Please look after him. But, keep yourself safe, Leliana-- more than anything, I want you to be safe."

How long does she have before she's more monster than herself? Is this any indication of what's to come for her after her Calling? ... Of course, it isn't long after that thought that she remembers her future, one in a battle with the archdemon, and... maybe that's better, after all. A death for Ferelden, against the blight, and not one wasted under the ground.

Her eyes sting. But she will not cry, not here. Not now. Not until Robyn is gone and she has a moment alone in a safe space. Grief can wait. This cannot.

"I will," she says quietly. "I promise."

Though it's a promise she will break later, in the moment she means it. Alistair will come to no harm if she can help it, and Leliana will keep herself safe. As safe as she can, anyway. She can't leave those in the mansion the same way Robyn couldn't.

The hand still holding the Warden's squeezes gently, and her other takes Robyn's dagger from her. "This will likely hurt," she says, unwilling to lie to her even now. "But I will make it fast."

"Leliana," she offers in exchange, following Anders up the stairs. She watches him for any reaction to her name. It might help her figure out just what time it is he's come from.

(Maker, this alternate times and world business gives her a headache.)

"What all did you manage to pick from the garden?" she asks. Both to keep conversation flowing and because she's genuinely curious as to what will grow here in Wonderland.

Leliana's words distort somehow, enough to remind her of being a girl and going to see healers. This won't hurt at all, they would coo, and then it always did hurt, though-- obviously, in the scheme of things, the pain wasn't much at all. Maybe that's the secret of it. The older you are, the greater the pain. She's much older than that now, and... at least Leliana is speaking honestly where the healers did not.

Even so, fear grips tight at her heart and she tries to back away a bit, scooting just a few inches back, still clutching at her wound.

"Wait, please--" Her eyes are bright with tears welling at the creases and with the youthful terror she'd recalled from childhood. "... What if I don't come back? What if this really is the end?"

It just occurs to her in that moment and she stiffens as if afraid the other woman is going to lunge at her with the knife, the same way she'd feared Alistair. Even if this is her death, the end of it all, then there isn't anything to be done. Having been bitten by one of those creatures, they'd said, was a certainty.

"I need to be able to return to Ferelden," Robyn pleads, trembling where she sits. "I have to be there to help end the Blight, I can't have it end here--"

Edited (this won't hut............) 2016-05-10 01:27 (UTC)

"Leliana?" Surprised, he pauses and turns. "Hey, I know that name."

It whisks him back to Thedas, and Ferelden, and passing storytellers recounting deeds done by the Hero of Ferelden and his noble company. There'd been Alistair the bastard-prince-made-Warden, Morrigan the apostate Witch of the Wilds... and Wynne, of course. And another... another that had definitely gone by that name.

'L'. Leliana. Maybe he should start assuming that everyone who comes from Thedas is famous in some fashion or another, it appears to be a pattern.

He's forgotten to answer her question by the time he opens his mouth again. "Are you that Leliana? From the Hero of Ferelden's party? Way to bury the lead."

"That was the plan."

Cullen starts in the direction opposite from where he came before. He brushes his cloak back as he walks. Two masks hang at his belt underneath. He frees one, and hands it to Leliana.

"We can still avoid the spores for now, but we might not have the option later."

Arguably it would be prudent to wear the mask at all times, just in case, but-- Cullen cringes at the thought. He's always loathed helmets, enough to risk combat without them. The prospect that the need will outweigh his aversion this time doesn't sit well with him.

He opens another door and looks inside, nodding at the wardrobe.

"Supplies are getting scarcer. Some of the closets yield nothing at all, their power-- I wonder if something is depleting their strength, or if they hold out on us deliberately."

The moment Robyn begins to panic, Leliana puts the knife down on the ground. Slowly, carefully, giving the Warden enough time to move, she reaches out to cup her face in her hands. She thumbs away tears. Ignores how this feels like a dagger to her own chest.

"Shh, Robyn, shh..." There are no real reassurances Leliana can give her. Though she's heard death isn't permanent in Wonderland, she's skeptical. But there is one thing for certain: "If you aren't brought back, I will storm this place and make them give you back."

It doesn't matter how long it takes. It doesn't matter how many people she has to kill or... persuade to get results. She'll do it.

She takes the mask and hooks it on her own belt. Though she doesn't have his aversion to wearing things like it, she'd rather her voice not be muffled right now. Not when calling out in battle, should they run across more monsters, could save a life.

"From what little I know of this place, I would guess the latter."

Wonderland is a bag of dicks in her opinion. And if it's going to throw something like this at them why not make it nigh impossible to find anything useful in the mansion?

"The spores came from inside the mansion, yes?" She may be remembering wrong, but it seems like that was the case. "If no one has opened windows or doors, there may still be things outside that haven't become--" She almost says tainted, but that's not quite right, is it? "Infected."

"I am."

And that answers that question. Anything more specific about his point in the timeline can wait until they're not, y'know, in danger of being attacked by formerly human monsters at any given moment.

"You were saying something about what you got from the garden, no?" she reminds gently, trying to get them back on track.

Maybe it's naive, but Leliana's words are a comfort to Robyn. Even if the spymaster that her friend has come to be isn't the young woman that the Warden knew, or knows in her own present, Robyn has every faith in her friends. If the sharp-minded rogue said she would do one thing, Robyn believes her. She would believe nearly anything Leliana told her, particularly with such conviction.

Though her heart still flutters like a rabbit's, she sniffles briefly and forces herself to nod. Be strong, be strong. You're safe. Safe seems like a far cry from what she is, but safe is not hurting or infecting anyone else. In this case, safe is dead.

"I'm sorry," she says again in a whisper, the fear still alive in her expression even as she lifts her chin to expose her throat. "Thank you."

The entire span of time feels surreal and nightmarish, much more so than anything else she's faced in Wonderland or Ferelden, even, thus far. Leliana both is and is not the Leliana she knows and she is about to take Robyn's life from her in a necessary sacrifice on both of their parts.

Everything always seems to come down to sacrifice.

Hadn't he also heard something about a Leliana being named the Divine's Left Hand and taking up a role in the Inquisition, freshly dug up from its grave in history and dusted off? Is that how she'd known so much about this Corypheus? Maker's breath, the plot keeps thickening. Soon it'll be as thick as glue.

"You really are a woman full of surprises," he observes. He looks at her a moment longer before shaking it off and swivelling his gaze back to the front.

If the lady wants to talk about food, they can talk about food. Unless she's about to stab him in the kidney right now in retaliation for defiling one of the Divine's blessed holy houses, he'll file this bit of information away as 'things to ponders when not in imminent danger of death'.

"Yes, as for what I harvested, it isn't much given the time of year, but you can have your pick of some carrots and asparagus. I found some peas, greens, and spring onions that were fairly ripe before I left, too. I could have a real career as a vegetable thief."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," she says, running a thumb across Robyn's cheekbone one last time before she drops her hands. Takes the dagger up again. Her grip is loose, but her hands are steady.

"Is there anything you want me to tell the others?"

Is there anything you want to say before this happens? is what she does not ask, but what she means. Leliana cannot give Robyn much, but she will give her a quick, clean death, and a chance to say whatever she needs to before the end. It is a paltry offering. But it is what she has.

Any and all kidney stabbing will happen after he's actually blown up said holy houses. And probably not for blowing up the chantry but more for fucking up Kirkwall. ... Leliana is not exactly your typical ex-sister. Which is probably a good thing.

"Carrots and peas sound lovely." Anything fresh and not provided by Wonderland directly sounds lovely. But those especially.

As if sensing earlier talk about who Leliana is and her reputation, her treacherous stomach growls again, slowly peeling away layers of her dignity. She presses a hand to her stomach and, with a small sigh and a frown asks, "I don't suppose we're near our destination?"

Someone may have forgotten to eat breakfast today.

Yes. There are a dozen things she wants to say, for Leliana to tell Dorian, Brennan, and... Alistair (there's always something else to tell Alistair). There are things she wants to tell Leliana, too, just in case, but her words sort of congeal in her throat and she finds herself just swallowing thickly and shaking her head, trying with all of her willpower to avoid looking at the gleaming blade in the other's hands. It's her own weapon, of course, one that's fought for and with her... and now it's almost betraying its owner, posing a threat rather than a defense.

Robyn makes eye contact with Leliana one last time before raising her eyes, speaking old, familiar words as some small comfort, voice still wavering:

"--And she will know no fear of death, for the Maker shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword--"

"We're close." The higher they climb, the more hushed he becomes. Nice as it is to hold a conversation with someone capable of more than just spitting and screaming, he doesn't relish the thought of drawing unwanted attention so near his safe room.

Another flight of stairs, then Anders leads them into the main corridor. His destination is an unmarked door, indistinguishable from the infinite number of other unoccupied rooms by the naked eye. But beyond the naked eye the space around the door buzzes with the presence of magic, signalling wards. "Here we are. I spelled it shut just to be safe. Would you be so kind to keep an eye out while I take down the wards?"

It takes less than a minute to undo his work, the last of it unravelling with a brief flare of light. Taking the doorknob in hand, he opens the door, and smiles sidelong at Leliana to say 'ladies first'. "You're welcome to what I have. There's no telling how long these things plan on sticking around and we'll need our strength."

The room itself is one of the mansion's typical unused rooms, bare and undecorated. Anders' pack and a smaller supply bag rest against the wall. The bathroom door is closed, but at the sound of their voices Leliana might be able to pick up a faint mewing from behind it.

"My cats," he explains. "I didn't want to take any chances with them."

There are moments in life that come every so often that leave an indelible mark. Moments where one knows with certainty that they will never truly forget what is happening. Robyn prays, and Leliana knows she will never read or hear those verses again without thinking of this space in time. Her friend, afraid and yet so very brave. Herself, wanting to weep but instead steeling her heart in a way that she has told herself she wants to do less.

This is a mercy. She must remind herself of that. This is a mercy and it is necessary. Better her doing it than Robyn herself.

Leliana swallows hard, adjusts her grip on the hilt of the dagger, and skips back a few verses. "The Light shall lead her safely through the paths of this world and into the next."

She strikes, the blade sliding easily across Robyn's bared throat. Leliana takes special care to make sure she gets the artery and vein there--the quicker Robyn goes, the better. The moment the wound is made, she let's the knife go and once again touches Robyn's face. Watches as the light leaves her eyes. It's then, and only then, that she allows her expression to fall and she gives herself a moment to grieve.

"From the basement," he confirms. "They thrive underground. Indoors, rather than outside. A girl I know is familiar with their behaviour, she told me as much. The grounds should be safe from the spores themselves, but the infected creatures won't shun it, and the open space won't be as defensible against them."

Cullen submits the report for her consideration. It is certainly worth a thought, not having to fight the environment itself goes a long way, but without sufficient numbers on their end any venture outside may prove a great risk regardless.

"Unless we can find some way to lock the creatures inside, without cutting off all escape routes for any survivors."

He opens the closet doors, and frowns. He thought of rations when he pulled at the door, but the space inside is all but empty, safe for a stale piece of bread, and a throwing knife. He puts the former into his bag of rations, and hands the latter to Leliana.

"Another spare for you."

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blessed are they who stand before

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