Sympathy for the Devil (of Grief) [Open]

The Hanged Man, home to drunkards and bastards alike, was as much an inn as it was a tavern for Solona Amell. More often than not, she found herself literally under the table, still clutching to a quarter-filled tankard of ale. Her presence beneath the oaken benches was as familiar as the stench of sweat and vomit. Thus, when her eyes opened at last, she assumed that that was where she must have fallen asleep.

"This isn't the Fade," she mused. The Fade was never this vibrant nor clear. No, the Fade felt surreal and warped, a twisted version of the conscious world. As the wise mages believed, the Fade was a construct of the spirits and demons, the Maker's first children; how those poor wretched souls ached to experience life as the humans, elves, and dwarves did.

Here, Solona heard no echoes in the back of her mind. No voices bothered to tempt her. How eerie. One would think that there'd be solace in being spared a demon's tongue, and yet the relief left Solona feeling hollow--

"--the spirit is so faint. Does that mean...?" An experiment seemed necessary. The mage rubbed at her chin, fingers splaying across her lips. Her eyes fluttered shut in concentration. Solona frowned. "Not so much as a spark." Once, she knew how to conjure a benevolent blue aura capable of rectifying any wound. Now she appeared to be without that talent.

"I'll simply have to avoid getting banged up then," she concluded in a sing-song voice, content to speak without an audience. That was, until she noticed quite the odd figure in the distance.

Curiosity urged her forward yet caution slowed her step. Solona kept a calm air about herself as she marched, her gait a little too terse for a noblewoman (the status of which her attire suggested.) Indeed, elegant robes were not meant for the soldier's march, for the fabric slid all over the place, riding up and down upon her shoulders.

Of course, her petite stature and genteel voice belied an innate sense of authority. "Greetings, serah. Might you be local to this strange and wondrous place?"

Andraste's flaming ass. Is that a Qunari mage? Solona tensed for as long as she failed to notice the man's tail. When at last she caught sight of it, the line of her shoulders relaxed. She remained on guard, but knew better than to act hostile towards an unknown factor.

In Thedas, most horned creatures stood upon fours. Only the bipedal Qunari were civil enough to approach, but this man did not remind Solona of those pretentious warriors. His complexion resembled her own instead of a sickly grey. Yet he could not have been a human. Whatever this man was, she would give him the benefit of the doubt until provoked. That only seemed fair as she was the one to first initiate contact.

A Qunari held his head high with pride; a profound sorrow seemed to emanate from the stranger standing before her. Solona kept that in mind, giving thought to her choice of words, “I see. Then you and I already have something in common,” - she spoke plenty for the two of them - “For I haven’t the faintest clue where this realm is, but I know where it is not. I’m certain that you’re able to infer that, as well. The senses have much room to breath. It feels like no illusion nor dream I’ve ever experienced.”

It didn't bother Solona that the man had little to say. She once traveled with such an individual - a Qunari, as it were - who only spoke when addressed, and even then, only as needed. At least this man seemed more receptive than the last.

Thus, Solona kept her hands clasped behind her back. Her strides forward were all projected, leaving no room to question where her steps took her. She made no sudden movements. How she neared the man was her humble show of respect. Intellectualism always deserved acknowledgement. "An excellent idea. Are you the sort that prefers traveling on his own? We may find this library sooner if we split up-- ...it could be dangerous, however. The choice is yours, serah."

Solona balked. Death was not a matter spoken of so lightly. Surely the man jested. "Have you now?" she wondered out loud, not even bothering to mask her disbelief. Perhaps he wasn't right in the head. She lowered the hand that had leapt to her lips. No matter. It wasn't her obligation to tend to the labyrinth in another's mind. A tentative smile settled upon her mouth. "That's quite the feat you've managed, serah."

The mage looked about, trying to familiarize herself with her surroundings. Knowledge was power, and understanding the geography of a foreign land could mean the difference of survival. To be quite honest, though, Solona had long since traveled by her lonesome. It was comforting to know an archer had her back, a swordsman held the line, and a Mabari remained at her side. Here, she knew no such comrades.

"If the choice is mine, I think I'd much rather accompany you. I find that my memories often involve others. This is quite the new experience for me, so I'd like to keep it in mind." Solona rushed to his side, eyes still darting to and fro.