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[[9:41, Wintermarch, three days after ‘The End of the World As We Know It’, morning]] Cauthrien
The compound was not a good place for convalescents right now. A manic energy had followed Sofia and Cauthrien’s return to the city, as the city guard was scrambled and a detachment of templars and Wardens were sent with them to pick off demons from a distance while frantic missives were sent off to the Circle tower begging for a solution. With Cauthrien confined to her room, Sofia had given herself little recovery time before rising the next morning and attending to the requests for help that had poured in. Technically the Wardens should only be getting involved in matters of darkspawn, but to borrow a charming Fereldan idiom, bugger it. She might even have headed back out herself if Muriel hadn’t threatened to relieve her of command if she did.
And all the time it was going on, she was worrying over Cauthrien. They’d both been exhausted upon the completion of their mad flight back home, but Sofia’s injuries amounted only to a few bloody scratches along her face. Cauthrien had many broken bones, bruising, and Maker knew what she’d done to herself when she’d tried to turn a smite on the rift. Sofia had wanted to check in on her as often as she could, but everything else that needed doing had kept her away, and Muriel had been tending to the Constable in her stead.
This morning, however, the tide of requests and queries had ebbed. For now, the city and outlying farms were being kept safe, and there was nothing more that could be done until the mages of the Circle came back with a solution.
Sofia was still exhausted. A day previously, a rider had spread the news throughout the city; the source of the rifts had been a massive explosion at the Conclave. The meeting of mages and templars, which Sofia had been thinking of with cautious optimism, had ended in calamity, and the Divine was dead. That had felt like the end of everything. There would be no peace between the warring factions now, and the Divine - oh, that had ripped at Sofia’s heart. Divine Justinia had been somebody she deeply admired, who had actually tried to come to an agreement that didn't end with all mages totally supressed, and now her peaceable presence was gone. Sofia had spent most of that night in the chapel, praying for the souls of the departed, and allowing herself the space to weep.
But a new day dawned, and the dead needed nothing from her now. The living still very much did, and she wanted to focus on one in particular. In the kitchens, the servants were preparing the tray of food for Cauthrien’s breakfast. Sofia took charge of it, stating that she would deliver it to the Constable’s quarters herself. Nobody argued. She could see some of them watching her cautiously on the periphery of her vision. Perhaps her eyes were still a little reddened.
No matter. She had other people to focus on beside herself.
Tray loaded with food and a potion that should wipe away any lingering pain in Cauthrien’s head, Sofia headed upstairs. When she got to Cauthrien’s door she knocked gently, then stepped into the darkness of the room.
“Cauthrien? Good morning. I brought you your breakfast.”
The compound was not a good place for convalescents right now. A manic energy had followed Sofia and Cauthrien’s return to the city, as the city guard was scrambled and a detachment of templars and Wardens were sent with them to pick off demons from a distance while frantic missives were sent off to the Circle tower begging for a solution. With Cauthrien confined to her room, Sofia had given herself little recovery time before rising the next morning and attending to the requests for help that had poured in. Technically the Wardens should only be getting involved in matters of darkspawn, but to borrow a charming Fereldan idiom, bugger it. She might even have headed back out herself if Muriel hadn’t threatened to relieve her of command if she did.
And all the time it was going on, she was worrying over Cauthrien. They’d both been exhausted upon the completion of their mad flight back home, but Sofia’s injuries amounted only to a few bloody scratches along her face. Cauthrien had many broken bones, bruising, and Maker knew what she’d done to herself when she’d tried to turn a smite on the rift. Sofia had wanted to check in on her as often as she could, but everything else that needed doing had kept her away, and Muriel had been tending to the Constable in her stead.
This morning, however, the tide of requests and queries had ebbed. For now, the city and outlying farms were being kept safe, and there was nothing more that could be done until the mages of the Circle came back with a solution.
Sofia was still exhausted. A day previously, a rider had spread the news throughout the city; the source of the rifts had been a massive explosion at the Conclave. The meeting of mages and templars, which Sofia had been thinking of with cautious optimism, had ended in calamity, and the Divine was dead. That had felt like the end of everything. There would be no peace between the warring factions now, and the Divine - oh, that had ripped at Sofia’s heart. Divine Justinia had been somebody she deeply admired, who had actually tried to come to an agreement that didn't end with all mages totally supressed, and now her peaceable presence was gone. Sofia had spent most of that night in the chapel, praying for the souls of the departed, and allowing herself the space to weep.
But a new day dawned, and the dead needed nothing from her now. The living still very much did, and she wanted to focus on one in particular. In the kitchens, the servants were preparing the tray of food for Cauthrien’s breakfast. Sofia took charge of it, stating that she would deliver it to the Constable’s quarters herself. Nobody argued. She could see some of them watching her cautiously on the periphery of her vision. Perhaps her eyes were still a little reddened.
No matter. She had other people to focus on beside herself.
Tray loaded with food and a potion that should wipe away any lingering pain in Cauthrien’s head, Sofia headed upstairs. When she got to Cauthrien’s door she knocked gently, then stepped into the darkness of the room.
“Cauthrien? Good morning. I brought you your breakfast.”
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