Tiaryn Ormet
For quite some time, she simply lay there, sprawled out upon the roof of the tavern as though nothing in the world mattered any longer. And in truth, she could not say with any degree of certainty that anything did. Overhead, the clouds of yesterday's rain moved slowly across a blued sky, but they no longer held the same childish delight for her that they once had. Dim memories, lost somewhere to the seep of time, conjured the image of a small boy with vivid blue eyes and a rakish grin, pointing to each of them and babbling excitedly in the voice of an Antivan, nudging the barely-older girl by his side, cajoling her to join him in his game.
The girl, she knew, would have obliged, just to see her brother's silly, toothy grin. He had been shielded from the real sadness of an urchin's life, as though that smile were too wide, too bright to let such gloom anywhere near it, and his sister had selfishly seized upon every opportunity to see it, that her own spirits might be lifted as well. At least until the day he stopped smiling.
Useless... Tiaryn rolled onto her side, watching the goings-on below with what was at best utter apathy. Some other day, it might have even been tinged with contempt, or perhaps envy, but today, she was simply too weary to summon such feelings. Mismatched eyes disappeared languidly behind pale lids, reappearing at length only to fly wide. She thought she had seen- but no. Surely it could not be. Perhaps the attention she had put to evading capture was dulling her senses, leaving her mind at the mercy of her misery, to taunt her with ghosts as it saw fit. Different ghosts than earlier, but still.
The figment of her imagination disappeared, into a tent- or at least, that was what would have happened had that man not been long dead. And yet... she'd never seen the body, just the wrapped corpse the Crows had disposed of as they would any traitor. As they would dispose of her, should she ever be found. Maybe that was it... some primal fear of death was conjuring his image, either to give her false hope or just cement her fate in her own mind, it was hard to say.
But she could not shake it, could not force the apparition to disappear from her mind's eye. Something about it- maybe it was the way the intervening time had changed the image as her mind alone could not- something bid her believe her eyes.
Well, there was one way to find out. She would watch that tent until all the occupants left it. Not a conventional measure, perhaps, but such a wait in stillness would be as nothing for someone trained to do just that kind of thing. Even so, this might be easy for her body, but... would it be quite so simple for her mind?
Asmara Surana
Asmara woke from the dead-away sort of sleep that was usually only enjoyed by children and the completely untroubled feeling more rested than she had in what seemed an eternity. And why shouldn't she? She was surrounded by Wardens, and mages, and people who at the very least meant her well, or so it seemed from what she could tell. There was no reason for disturbed sleep, not then, and her walk in the Fade had been just as sunny as the world outside was this morning.
Sitting upright, she attempted to meet the ceiling of the cave with her fingertips, relieved that the futile effort produced no pain, and smiled, standing. From the flow of conversation, it seemed that they would be moving out for Lothering- which she gathered was a small town- quite shortly, and that they would be splitting up to do it. Nodding to herself (that made sense, after all), she volunteered to accompany Ser Le-Guy and anyone he might take with him. There should probably be one Warden in any group, after all, and Ser Sev did not seem particularly eager to accompany the Templars exactly, and she was almost certain the magi-Warden wouldn't choose to. She had no idea what the fourth Warden's opinion was, but it wasn't as though she minded.
The journey itself passed rather uneventfully, and Asmara spent most of her time studying the local flora. She had something of a flair for medicines and poultices, so herbology was always of interest to her. She made light, happy conversation with anyone who would listen, at least until they came upon the town proper. Here, she hesitated. She and towns, especially Chantry towns, hadn't historically had very good interactions. It seemed that the people who lived in them disliked her for some reason. She figured it must be her magic, but then sometimes she wondered how they could tell so easily, even when she wasn't carrying her staff. It was strange.
She also had no idea what to do when she got there, actually. Provisions would be nice; she had gratefully and with much ado accepted Ser Sev's sovereign, but she was truthfully unsure if anyone would sell to her. That had been a problem in the past also. Biting her lip, she quickly glanced around at the other members of her party, hoping that maybe someone wouldn't mind her tagging along with them.