Snippet #1368616

Asmara wasn't exactly sure how to handle the man's manners. She was not used to being treated with respect of any kind, and it showed in the rather awkward way she accepted the tea and bowed halfway at the waist before settling down on a nearby log. The man's campfire was warm, and she was so very exhausted. She resisted the urge to sit closer to the flames, as the shock of the sudden warmth to her clammy system would not be good for her health.

She sipped the tea and suppressed a slight grimace. Elfroot, while useful in poultices, made a rather bitter brew, but she knew that for this very reason it would help her, and so she drank it without even a hint of complaint, regarding first the man and then his proffered tent with wary eyes. He didn't look all that frightening, this blue-eyed stranger, but... she had learned the hard way that this made no difference at all. Still... there was little she could do but trust him, and take him at his word. Her legs, steady as they'd needed to be when she stood, now shook along with the rest of her, whether from exhaustion or fright was hard to tell.

Asmara spent a long few moments looking into the depths of the fire, ears straining for any sign of her pursuers. Finding none, she allowed herself to relax just minutely, and looked back up at the man, who was speaking again. She only caught the gist of most of it, but the last line was so odd that it almost made her smile. Unfortunately, it turned out looking more like a grimace than anything else, but there was little to be done for that.

She owed him a story, and she knew it. He was a mage of the Circle, and it was easy to tell that she was not. Fatigued as she was, Asmara had not missed his examination of her arms; he knew to be wary, and the fact that she was once again under suspicion of being a creature less-than-conscionable hurt a bit, even though she could not blame him for it. Swallowing hard, the young woman placed her empty drinking vessel on the log beside her and hugged her torso with both arms. Unwilling or unable to maintain eye contact, she resumed her examination of the burning logs and sighed softly.

"My name is Asmara, and I am a Grey Warden," she began softly. When he did not immediately attempt to kill her or laugh at her, she continued. "Two weeks ago, I was inducted into the order, on the day a great battle was to take place at Ostagar. The king was there, and strange as I thought it was, I actually spoke to him..." The mage trailed off, she was rambling, and this was all beside the larger point.

"The battle... was not as they told me it would be. An easy rout, they said, with the combined might of the King, the Teyrn, and the Grey Wardens; the Darkspawn wouldn't stand a chance. The main army was supposed to engage the beasts while Teyrn Loghain flanked them on our signal. The signal was lit, but... the Teyrn never came. By the time any of us realized what had happened, it was far too late. My senior Wardens bid me flee, and like a coward I obeyed." She bit down on her lower lip, shaking her head as though trying to clear it of the recollection, but the mournful expression laid openly on her face would indicate that she was unsuccessful.

"I spent much time out here, just... wandering about, looking for anyone, any survivors, anything, but all I have found is men who want to kill me. The Grey Wardens have been blamed for the betrayal, and I am hunted. I know not why 'tis so, but... I went back to Ostagar today, hoping to find some kind of clue, or maybe a friend who had survived as well, but all I found were bodies and more soldiers. I've been running ever since." Asmara hugged her knees to her chest, resting her chin upon them and ignoring the soreness this caused. She'd have to stretch out soon, or risk serious pain the next time she tried to move, but she couldn't really drum up the motivation at present.

She had no idea why she'd told him everything; maybe it was out of some twisted logic. If she died, at least someone would know the truth in its entirety, right? A twinge of guilt flickered into life- 'twas a heavy burden, and she had just shouldered someone else with it, whether this had been her original intention or not.