Leliana does not expect the daughter of one of her closest friend’s, or Magnus’ granddaughter, to arrive on the shores of her kingdom, but she is not terribly surprised when it happens. She can practically feel the defeat of the girl coming off of her in waves and she angles her head toward where she arrives, toeing the border of the kingdom as if it would rise up and bite her for taking a step too far inland.
Curious, and feeling a pang of sadness for the Queen of the East, Leliana shakes some of the dust that has accumulated on her coat and steps through a portal, breathing into existence before the mare. Her face is neutral, her eyes still burning molten gold, but there is a kindness there that has not yet bled from her.
“Dawn,” she greets her with a hint of warmth, angling her head and studying her. There is something about her that is nearly broken—something beaten and sad, the candle of her flickering n the light. “There’s no need to stay on the border. Come further inland.” She steps back and motions the mare forward, a honey-laced wind twisting through the air and pulling her mane forward.
The ground beneath her is still charred in far too many places, the ash piling in corners of her kingdom. She can feel the scars of the war everywhere she looks and the loss of it, the loss she has suffered, feels like a blade between her ribs. She takes a steadying breath, frowning down at the ground. In response, flowers blossom through the scars, lush and magnificent, blanketing the immediate area.
It is enough to bring a small smile to the tired magician’s face—a woman still coping with the attack of her people, the loss of her family, the world of grey she now straddles. But it is enough and when she looks back to the mare, there is some understanding in her unseeing, depthless gaze.
“What brings you here today, Dawn?”
@[Dawn]