Snippet #1741131

Beryl resisted the urge to giggle. It was all so hilariously awkward, this little dance they were attempting with fumbling steps. She had to admit, even she had not been as subtle as she might have preferred, but there was not quite the same need for it here as there was elsewhere, perhaps. If that was the Tevinter’s attempt at politicking, it was perhaps for the best that he was diplomatic envoy to Ferelden and not Orlais. Then again, maybe it just seemed heavy-handed because she knew the truth of it. Perhaps the other two were fooled, perhaps not.

In any case, the Hero wasn’t having any of it, curtly pointing the others in the directions they ostensibly wanted and turning to leave himself. She did crack a grin at that; the information had failed to mention how direct he was. Perhaps it was time to change her own tack as well.

With a shrug, she bowed to the rest of the lot, not without a touch of irony, and paced along quickly until she drew up even with the formerly-hooded man. The rain had started to abate, but by now her ponytail was plastered to her back and her cloak still valiantly defending the rest of her clothes against the encroaching moisture. She said nothing, not while she was still within earshot of their strange fellows, but if asked would have remarked that her horse was indeed back in this direction.

She doubted anyone would ask. She was insignificant in the long run, and she preferred it that way. So much easier to get things done that way. Perhaps the Hero was feeling a bit of that as well, a preference for anonymity. She could work with that. Nobody had said anything about needing to publicly save the world, after all. If they had, she’d have told them to find another mercenary and gone back to killing the rich, powerful, and corrupt for people who couldn’t afford to pay her. Bit of a bum job, that one, but not so bad when you’re consciously seeking redemption and have virtually no notable skills aside from those associated with killing things.

“I don’t suppose that just a wanderer would be interested in hearing out a simple mercenary such as myself, would he?” She glanced at him askance, tilting her head to one side, as though to better hear the response, should there be one. She expected that there would be, and probably not an affirmative, either. She hadn’t been told that actually convincing him of anything would be the difficult part, but she was learning it now, with a degree of amusement. Who said he had to jump at the chance to serve the world again? He was in the opposite position from her, in a sense; he’d done his dues, and probably deserved to be left alone.

Too bad we never get what we deserve, isn’t it?

Even if she did expect him to refuse to listen to her, that didn’t mean she was going to leave him alone. Beryl had almost nothing resembling fear, and was remarkably patient, to say nothing of stubborn. She also didn’t like to fail, and thus she wasn’t going to. She just recognized that success did not always come instantaneously. Sometimes, things took a while, and though the Divine may not think they had that long, the former Crow was not concerned with anyone else’s deadlines.