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Reflections [Solo]

Sati Adaar

Prominent member
Canon Character
Post DAI Timeline
[[OOC: Winter, Haven, 9:41, evening]]

“Your room is right this way.” The young elven woman was churning her hands in the same nervous manner as she had been that morning, glancing back over her shoulder as she led Sati down the hall. “Lady Montilyet thought it might be better than the hut.”

Safer, too. Judging by the snippets of conversation Sati had overheard throughout the day, she’d almost been murdered several times before she even woke up, and even though would-be assassins seemed to have withdrawn since the rift over the temple had been sealed, there was still bound to be the odd person who took poorly to her being around. The Chantry had fewer windows for people to slip through while she rested. Or, she supposed, for her to slip out unnoticed. Although she was grateful for the fire that had been built in the hearth ahead of her arrival. It felt as though she’d been cold for days.

The woman hovered by the doorway as she walked through. “Can I get you anything, Herald?”

Sati’s opinion of that title was best not voiced in front of a believer. She had been careful to give as little voice to any opinion at all, in fact, since this whole mess had started. “Sati is fine. What is your name?”

The woman – girl? She seemed very young – reacted as though Sati had asked to take a bite out of her. “I! – I…um…” Sati waited patiently. “Melissa, my lady.”

Sati didn’t attempt trying to get her to use her name again. “Melissa. Thank you. I’d appreciate some paper and writing materials. And some warmed wine. Please.”

“Of course! Right away, my lady!” Melissa disappeared out of the room fast, the door swinging shut behind her. Sati sat on the bed and closed her eyes.

Alone. At last. Ever since she had woken up on the freezing dungeon floor, chained and with six swords at her throat, she had not been given a moment to herself. People had bawled insults at her, bellowed orders, harangued her and each other, screamed, cried, fought. Even when she had risen that morning she had been given only a moment or so to don her clothes and report to the Chantry, where more people waited to talk with her – or impress their version of events on her. She had caused a lot of disappointment over her lack of memory, but as hard as she’d tried, little had come back. The Divine calling, the shadowy figure ordering Sati’s death, and then…whatever that dream had been about.

And the dead. So very many dead.

She might have been counted amongst them, had she not chosen a few minutes prior to carry out a patrol. It had been nothing more than a brief diversion, a chance for respite from the sound of people bawling at each other. There had been plenty of other bodyguards in attendance that she had considered it no bad thing to leave the central chamber for a few minutes. Could she have prevented the blast, if she’d remained?

No. She would have died with everybody else there. Nonetheless, the weight of it sat heavy on her shoulders, and she rested her face on her palms for a moment, feeling a weary ache that went down to her bones. The light from her scar flared through her eyelid. She had tried pressing her fingers into its unseen centre once, and learned from the experience. It was a wound, and although it had felt sealed, the agony had nearly sent her to her knees again. Since then a dull throb remained, pulsing often enough that she couldn’t quite forget it was there.

A soft knock at the door broke her reverie. “Come in.”

Melissa had been quick with the materials. She’d also managed to scare up a box of sealing wax and a stamp with the Inquisition’s seal on it. Sati turned it over in her hands, scrutinising the emblem. She didn’t see how anything good could come of an organisation with that sort of name, or how the leaders planned on preventing themselves from being stamped out by the remaining shreds of the Chantry. If she had another choice, she would have attempted to leave by now, but she knew full well that just about everybody wanted a scapegoat for the Divine’s death and a lot of them wouldn’t bother gathering too much evidence in order to swing her from a tree. That she was one of the feared qunari would only affirm that, despite the fact she’d never been part of the Qun. It was safer to stay. For now.

She thanked Melissa for the items and poured herself a glass of the wine as the elven woman turned to go. On the threshold, she hesitated. “Um. My lady? I was just wondering…”

More questions. Well. She would bear another few for the moment; Melissa wasn’t the cause of any of her problems, and didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of her irritation. Although it would likely be the same questions as before. “Yes, Melissa. What is it?”

For a moment she thought the woman’s nerve would fail her. Then Melissa pulled herself together. “I’m sorry. I was just – how do you sleep?” Sati blinked at her. Melissa gestured over her head. “With the…you know.”

Oh. Sati was suddenly grateful for the presence of the elf; her soft huff of amusement carried some of the weight of the day out with it. “I sleep standing up.” Melissa goggled at her, and Sati took pity. “It’s just a matter of having enough pillows to support my neck, if I want to lie on my back. I can rest on my side with few problems.”

“Oh! Oh, yes, I can see how that’d make sense. Thank you, my lady.” Sati nodded, and Melissa went out looking a fraction less terrified of her. That was something.

Speaking of sleep, that was deeply appealing, but she had other matters that needed to be attended to first. Taking a long draught of the wine, she settled at the desk and then started scratching her letter into the parchment.


As you’ve likely heard by now, the mission was an abject failure. I find myself currently a guest of a newly-formed army known as the Inquisition…

Sati knew that any letters she sent would almost be certainly opened and resealed before they even made it out of Haven. Shokrakar would understand that she was not staying entirely of her own will, but she wasn’t to send a party to retrieve her. Sati would remain as long as she had to, and see if there were answers to be found before she made her return. There was nothing in the letter to cause alarm, although doubtless the sharp-eyed Nightingale she’d been introduced to would take a little extra time to make sure of it. Having given as full a report as she could, Sati rolled and sealed the letter, and then settled with the remainder of the wine by the fire.

She’d wanted to spend more time trying to puzzle out the murky points in her memories, but the chair was unusually comfortable and the wine had done its task, slightly relieving the weight of her burdens. Her head started to loll as she tried to recall the face of the woman in the Fade, and a comfortable warmth settled across her.

As Sati surrendered to the first true, restful sleep she’d had in days, her scar itched and throbbed.