[For a moment, Morrigan gives him the textbook look of a teenager who thinks someone older than them is a hopeless case of stupid. Not a factor? Had he not listened to a word she has said? It has every factor in wanting to help her.
Her mother is an ancient whisper of some ancient being of unknown origin, has plans and a purpose for her, among so many other things. If it is possible to traverse between realities - and, good gods has Astoria and this situation proven that it is with powerful magic - she will come for her. Flemeth will have her due one way or the other.
He may as well ask her if she's willing to add just one more bit of crazy in adding one more sight at their backs. Yet it's so sincere and with so few strings attached that she could see beyond said caveats that it's almost sad, really.
Friend.
...She can't help it. She barks out a laugh. She tries not to think of how similar it is to her mother's.]
'Tis just another day that ends with the letter "Y", as some would put it. [Alistair. She means Alistair.] Said person also somehow had it in their heads that ritual dismemberment is on Tuesdays. ...I will never begin to understand his sense of humor.
[Congratulations, she has no idea how to handle someone wanting to help her out of the goodness of their heart. So much so that she's resorted to sniping at her begrudging comrades back home. Gods, this is embarrassing. Almost as embarrassing as-
...The dream shifts back to the tower; some sort of sleep quarters in disarray. There is whimpering inside a wardrobe and they go to open it. A man pokes out, asks if it's safe, and then decides his best course of actions is, rather than go downstairs with Owain and to the other mages and thus safety, to go back to cowering inside the blasted wardrobe.
Morrigan blinks and stares. Yes, thank you, dreamscape, for that lovely recollection. Leliana is trying so very hard not to double over with laughter. "I suppose it wasn't his time yet."] ...Or hers.
Phone: You're welcome. ( ~_^ )
Her mother is an ancient whisper of some ancient being of unknown origin, has plans and a purpose for her, among so many other things. If it is possible to traverse between realities - and, good gods has Astoria and this situation proven that it is with powerful magic - she will come for her. Flemeth will have her due one way or the other.
He may as well ask her if she's willing to add just one more bit of crazy in adding one more sight at their backs. Yet it's so sincere and with so few strings attached that she could see beyond said caveats that it's almost sad, really.
Friend.
...She can't help it. She barks out a laugh. She tries not to think of how similar it is to her mother's.]
'Tis just another day that ends with the letter "Y", as some would put it. [Alistair. She means Alistair.] Said person also somehow had it in their heads that ritual dismemberment is on Tuesdays. ...I will never begin to understand his sense of humor.
[Congratulations, she has no idea how to handle someone wanting to help her out of the goodness of their heart. So much so that she's resorted to sniping at her begrudging comrades back home. Gods, this is embarrassing. Almost as embarrassing as-
...The dream shifts back to the tower; some sort of sleep quarters in disarray. There is whimpering inside a wardrobe and they go to open it. A man pokes out, asks if it's safe, and then decides his best course of actions is, rather than go downstairs with Owain and to the other mages and thus safety, to go back to cowering inside the blasted wardrobe.
Morrigan blinks and stares. Yes, thank you, dreamscape, for that lovely recollection. Leliana is trying so very hard not to double over with laughter. "I suppose it wasn't his time yet."] ...Or hers.