---Blodwyn Akritas---
“We will be heading to a ball at the summer home of Lord Atrimo Adea,” Blodwyn answered Ceallach’s inquiry as the Dalish woman ran out of the tent. She glanced over at Valen and he, in return, shrugged his shoulders at her. They had had a good run of business in Lothering so far, and one Dalish woman would not be a great loss, white hair or not. It was not worth making trouble over. Valen would have surely been up for forcing the woman into slavery, but they had sent their guards off with their last shipment, and making a scene without protection would not bode well for them.
---Valen Akritas---
Quite suddenly, and without any warning, a woman burst through the tent flaps. Valen’s hand went immediately to the pommel of his sword, ready to draw his weapon and fight. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Blodwyn immediately grab the arm of her slave and move him in front of her. Blodwyn was about as useful in a one on one swordfight as a Templar was in a circus.
Alas, what Valen had just found himself face to face with made him desire to kick a small child. Severia Cousland had just made her way into their tent and Valen was sure that that damned slobbering mabari of hers was going to barge in soon afterwards.
“Ser Sev!” His sister exclaimed and Valen saw a grin blossom across her face. Had they been at a formal party or wearing rich clothing, he was sure that she would have addressed the woman as ‘Lady Cousland’.
“What a pleasure, Ser Sev.” Valen said, his tone polite and dry, but strained with dislike.
Just then, Severia’s mangy mutt bounded inside. Valen took a step back, but was relieved to see the mabari bond over to her sister. And, by the Maker, Blodwyn looked as if her smile might just split her face in half.
---Blodwyn Akritas---
Blodwyn let go of Ceallach’s arm and knelt down to scratch Kujo behind both ears. “Who’s a good, strong, fierce boy? You are!” She scratched the mabari under the chin and made several more noises of praise. Two things that Blodwyn liked above much else were children and dogs. She was never this openly affectionate with grown adults. It was a pity that she had no mabari treats with her. Blodwyn made a mental note of stocking up for the future.
Blodwyn straightened up and managed to tone down her silly smile. “You see, this is why I love coming to Ferelden, it is never long before one meets a mabari!” she said, then added, “Valen, you simply must get one at some point.”
“I would rather avoid something altogether so unpleasant, sister,” he replied, utterly without humor.
“It is lovely to see you, Ser Sev. I must admit I am surprised to see you in Lothering.” Blodwyn said as she straightened up, but still continued to scratch at Kujo’s head with one hand. “Pray tell, who were you looking for?”
---Gann Mulsantir---
"No thanks are needed. You do not thank someone for doing the right thing. You thank only for favors. This was not a favor.” As far as Gann was concerned, it was common knowledge that only the Dalish knew how to bet take care of halla. So, not only had that man been a thief, but also a liar. And he would most likely have also lead to the creature’s death, and the halla had not done anything to the thief to warrant it having to be mistreated to death.
He was inwardly glad that she had not held out her hand in greeting, as many did and then expected him to shake it. Gann had never enjoyed being touched by others – the contact of skin against skin was, at best, uncomfortable. Why people insisted on groping one another in greeting, he would never fully understand. “I am Gann Mulsantir.”
“What is a Dalish woman doing without her clan? These are troubled times.” His words held no threats towards her, merely a blunt inquiry. He looked over the Dalish woman as he spoke, noting the weapon she carried – two blades, so most likely she was a dual-wielder.
“That is a strong halla; I can see she is well cared for.” A corner of his mouth twitched up ever so briefly into something that could have been categorized as a smile. Yet, an actual smile would have looked severely out of place on the face of this man.