Asmara Surana
Asmara leans heavily against Aliyah's neck, breathing in the sweet scent of meadow grasses and horse musk, but the only thing she really smells is blood and salt. So much blood, coppery, metallic, and always, always the same brilliant deep red. None of it is hers, but it hardly matters to the girl. It might as well be; her rose-tinted lenses are cracked, the perfect serenity of an innocent heart sundered, at least for a moment. It will heal; it always does. She cannot bear to look at things in the harsh reality of hue-less daylight, so eventually everything will become lovely once again.
Blood... Blysse's blood, the Teyrn's blood, the life-essence of Lisa and Dareth and Valen. Too much... she was rapidly losing her affection for the color crimson. She had not spoken much in the last few days, though she tried her best to wear a smile for everyone else's sake. In truth, she still felt awful about Lisa. She'd been unable to help the woman at all, instead only easing the pain of her passing, muttering spells for easy sleep and pain relief even as she slipped further away than even Asmara could follow. She had been able to do nothing to stop anything that happened after that, either, and she wondered (not for the first time) if she had any right to be a Grey Warden at all. She was entirely useless and silly and immature, and she knew these things to be true.
She'd been slipping in and out of the Veil as they traveled, allowing herself to be comforted in Compassion's arms, much as she had as a scared child, on the run from men in metal suits who called her horrible things and brandished their weapons and shields. She knew she shouldn't run from reality like this; it wasn't helping anyone, and she needed to be as helpful as possible, even if she didn't make a good Warden. Sighing, she pushed herself into an upright position and forced the listlessness from her eyes. She was worried about Blysse, but she needed to focus on the positives. Like... well, there weren't many, but maybe it would help to list them.
For the most part, they were still alive. That was good. They were on the move again, and had a goal, so that was a positive, too. Nobody seemed to be really fighting with each other anymore, at least for the most part, though whether this was truly an upside or not was a bit hard to tell. It could just be that they didn't have the energy or motivation anymore. Well... Gann and Merle had left, and Ser Sev seemed to think that they might have done so together, so there was a good chance that they at least were happy, she supposed. That certainly counted. Dareth had been saved, which was good, and she knew that wherever Blysse was, the halla was probably not far away. At least she wasn't alone, right?
None of them were alone, for that matter. Everybody was being so morose, and she understood why, but... it was time for her to stop it. Someone needed to take a step here, quit shying away from everyone else. She didn't see anyone else volunteering, so...
Ser Sev asked if anyone wanted to stop, and Asmara pushed aside her indecisiveness and nodded resolutely. Arvin spoke first; she siezed on the opportunity and expounded, grateful to the shapeshifter. "I think that's a very good idea," she replied with a smile. "We still have lots of supplies left, so I'm going to make everyone dinner if I can. It would be really nice if everyone would eat it..." She trailed off, shaking her head. Blysse would return when she was ready. No use trying to make it otherwise.
Without waiting for anything else, Asmara dismounted, landing lightly on the ground with a small puff of dust from the road. She supposed it might be considered presumptuous of her, and she really hoped that was not how it would be interpreted, but she still felt the burning need to do something, to fix things. It was something of a compulsion of hers, actually. If nobody stopped her, she'd be straight to gathering firewood and building herself a nice campfire to cook over, lighting the thing with a simple spell and unpacking their cookware as tents were erected. Spirits help her, if someone decided to keep going, she'd be embarrassed awfully, and her face would tinge the color of ripe tomatoes.
Tiaryn Ormet
Tiaryn was not having any particular crisis of conscience about what had happened; she had been asked by a friend to help with a job, and she had done it. As far as she was concerned, Valen Akritas did not constitute a significant loss to humanity, not after what he'd done. She was no hypocrite; she would not deny that she'd caused worse pain on occasion, but she had never taken pleasure in the act of causing harm or death. Yes, there was a certain... satisfaction that she derived from doing her job well, but this was because of the evidence of increasing skill rather than the knowledge that one more person had ceased to be because of her.
The transformation of the Dalish girl, she had not expected, and still did not quite know what to make of. It had been explained to her what actually happened, and she could not imagine what it would be like to have such a change enacted upon one's body against one's will. Certainly not pleasant; she could understand the desire to be apart from others after such an occurrence. She had shrugged off the brother's apology- their business was not her own, and there was nothing to apologize for as she saw the matter.
When it was suggested that the group stop, she nodded her agreement, observing that the small one- Asmara- had apparently decided to take the task of feeding everyone. Perhaps... perhaps the blond elf could keep a secret. If so, she might find herself with some unlikely assistance.