hallarider | thinking that you're all I ever need now

thinking that you're all I ever need now

[for

pavus_redemit]

It wasn't something Bramen ever expected to truly happen and yet, here they found themselves. Here he stood, no longer as the Inquisitor, no longer Andraste's herald - but rather, a man. A hunter of the Lavellan clan, just a man with a talent for taming harts. He'd never expected to find this again, even if just for a little while and yet, here he was, approaching the aravels of his clan, all eyes turning towards him - and the companion at his side. There was something tense in the air but it was quickly overwhelmed by joy. Despite the uncertain glances in Dorian's direction, there were cries of joy at the sight of one of their own returning. The elves began to approach, most welcoming Bramen with open arms.

The two of them had spoken of this frequently enough - finding the Lavellan clan, spending time among them. A piece of the elf felt it was all just a dream though, something that might never come to fruition. They had already made a few attempts to contact the clan, to locate them and all of them had been met with disappointment. Not this time though. Leliana's men had taken greater care when locating the clan, relying on hearsay from local villages. That had been enough to get them moving in the right direction.

The sun was starting to lower in the sky, the evening would be settling upon them soon enough. It had been a long hike to get out this far, both men needed a good rest. It might be some time before they could do that, however - not with the way the clan was keeping their distance on the approaching pair. They recognised one of their own easily enough but it was clear his companion was to be met with a great deal of hesitation. Bramen hoped Dorian didn't blame them.

He could feel his pulse racing as they approached, though still unable to hide the smile across his face, one that continued to broaden. The clan spoke in Elvhen, speaking loud and fast as two older hunters moved to either side of the Inquisitor. They both urged him to stop, looking him over, patting his shoulders before laughing - continuing to speak in their tongue, words Dorian wasn't able to pick out. Bramen responded to both men, returning the touch they both offered.

Moreso Dorian, however. Bramen knew how little his partner liked being outdoors like this for long periods. He gestured to the mage near him, speaking in his own tongue to the pair of hunters who took a long look at the mage. They looked uncertain and stern, the tattoos across their face differing drastically from Bramen's own. They were both older men with shorter, brown hair and grey eyes. Brothers, more than likely. They continued to speak in Elvhen, looking to Dorian before turning their attention to Bramen. The words they spoke were too hard for the mage to decipher but one might have caught his eye, a word - or name - repeated more than once. Deshanna.

The pair of hunters motioned for Bramen to move on ahead, though they looked to Dorian and went still, eyes locking on the man. Bramen took a step forward and then paused, turning towards Dorian and looking a bit apologetic.

"They want you to stay here," he explained with a light frown, hoping that his lover wouldn't mind too much. He knew it was no doubt a bit unsettling. He wet his lips, gesturing towards the two hunters. "This is Camras and Deywen," he explained, "They want me to speak with the Keeper first before you join us."

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Maybe it seemed a bit ridiculous to Dorian - but it appeared effective enough. The halla seemed receptive enough to him, despite him being a stranger among the clan. Two of the halla remained close to Dorian's side, a pair of does by the looks of things. They looked towards him, one bold enough to turn her head and sniff at him a little before her attention moved forward. The dogs began to come closer though the three that approached lay down in the grass a few feet away, not quite as willing to approach Dorian as the halla were. The halla were amazingly placid.

The elf that rode the hart took the beast around in another wide circle, checking the perimeter for any stragglers. He called out a few things an elvhen and Camras whistled to get the remaining dogs' attention, the slender hounds bounding over towards him. He pat each of the graceful hounds' heads and looked to his brother, Deywen nodding to him before turning his attention towards Dorian.

"Tell them dareth shiral," the older hunter called out, "Dareth shiral, andaran atish’an. They'll return to our camp. Follow them - the dogs will run ahead, keep any from going astray. We shall follow behind."

The elf on the hart came around again, speaking something Dorian didn't understand again - though he'd used the word shem more than once, while casting a glance in Dorian's direction. That should have been enough indication. Deywen raised his hand and waved it idly, shaking his head, looking back to Dorian and gesturing for him to move.

"The camp is not far."

At least his accent was decent. Bramen had been coaching him well. He was a little skeptical the halla would remember how to get to camp but he wasn't going to question the Dalish and their methods.

"Dareth shiral, andaran atish'an," he said calmly and once again the hall impressed him by doing exactly what the hunter said they would.

The deer were better trained than some dogs he'd met in his life. They were very calm about it as well. Dorian relaxed a little and followed along behind them.

It was a rather pleasant walk. He could hear the dogs up ahead and the hunters following along. The word 'shem' was rather common but he was getting used to it. It would make it easy for him to understand when they're talking about him.

The halla moved at a leisurely pace through the woods, a drastic change from the run the elves had made him take. It seemed to make the path even longer, or time simply didn't pass as quickly. One of the hall stayed at Dorian's side, not walking any faster than he did, though he eyes remained ahead, watching the tails of the others. There was something serene about a halla, something very trusting. They seemed to hold no issues with Dorian accompanying them on their walk, keeping the pace reasonable as they moved.

The elves caught up quickly enough, though they hung back and watched in silence. The only sound from them was the hart's heavy steps and occasional sounds - little huffs and murmurs, those flat sounds that were deeper than those of the harts at Skyhold. Good thing the camp wasn't far. The forest soon started to clear a bit, bringing them the smaller clearing that the Dalish clan had set up camp at.

And this time, Bramen was waiting for their return. Bramen, a tall elvhen woman next to him. She had long, white hair that was resting over her shoulder, feathers tied into the strands, a circlet around her forehead that resembled the way a halla's antlers twisted and curved. She was an older woman but she was still very beautiful. Her pale green eyes resembled Bramen's, sharp as they watched him. Upon her face was a more intricate version of the tattoo on Bramen's face was upon her brow, a smile across her face as she watched Dorian. On the woman's opposite side, Bramen's brother looked on curiously, sizing up Dorian with his gaze.

It was the woman who approached first. The halla ahead of Dorian parted gracefully to either side, allowing her to pass. She moved without a word and with an air of grace, standing before the mage, calm smile still upon her face. She reached out and touched Dorian's cheek with a slender finger, humming softly before she traced an idle pattern beneath his eye.

"Sylaise keep you, Dorian Pavus of Tevinter," her common sounded far more graceful than that of the hunters, the woman cupping his cheek. Her touch was quite soft, green eyes at peace as she gazed at him. After a moment longer, she let her hand fall and stepped a pace backwards, giving Dorian a bit more space. The halla closer to him moved forward, stepping closer to sniff at the Keeper, the woman bringing a hand to the deer's neck and hushing softly. It moved aside, going towards where Bramen and his brother were instead.

The Keeper remained before Dorian, however.

"Bramen tells us you have aided him greatly through his journeys."

The sight of Bramen relaxed Dorian a little. His love looked happy so he didn't expect to get thrown out and told to go home. He didn't expect the Keeper to come up to him and touch him either. That made him slightly uncomfortable. He kept people at a distance, especially strangers but he tolerated it. Perhaps it was some Dalish custom.

"It's perhaps more accurate to say we've aided each other," he said smoothly, folding his hands behind his back. He stood like he was before the Magisterium, proper and with perfect posture. "But I have done all I could for him and the Inqusition. The Ventori were a threat that needed to be stopped."

If the Venatori had won there was no telling what they would have done to the Dalish. There was no telling what they would have done to the world besides utterly destroyed it with red lyrium and time magic.

Still, as much as he had done to help Bramen, there was no putting into words how much help Bramen had given him. He was a better man for this, for Bramen and the Inquisition.

The Keeper's expression remained warm, fondly looking over Dorian. "You have treated him well, da'len. For the respect you have given him, we offer up the same to you," she said with a nod. "You are welcome among our people, we trust you do not intend to bring us any harm nor do you wish to threaten our way of life."

As the Keeper spoke, the clan had begun to gather, all moving closer towards where Bramen and his brother stood. All eyes were upon Dorian, though many faces in the crowd chose to nod at Deshanna's words. Dorian was not a threat to them - they recognised this. He was still shem to them but he was not a bad one. After all, he had returned Bramen to the clan, even if only for a short time. He'd kept their kin safe, respected him, Bramen seemed to trust the man well enough to bring him to the clan. Dorian may not have realised it but it spoke great volumes.

"I am Keeper Deshanna Istimaethoriel Lavellan," the Keeper said, holding her arms out, gesturing to the people behind her, "This is clan Lavellan. You as welcome here as one of our own, Dorian Pavus of Tevinter, friend to the Inquisition, friend to our Bramen." Camras and Deywen moved to either side of Dorian now, the original pair of white windhounds at Camras' side now.

"You have assisted our hunters in herding the halla back - please, continue to assist. There is much to be done before the sun settles and Mythal's moon raises high in his place. I must speak longer with Bramen and I am certain my First wishes to do the same-" she cast a glance over towards where Bramen and his brother stood, Meallan flicking his brother in the ear and Bramen giving him a swat - though both men stood at attention the moment the Keeper's eyes were on them. The Keeper laughed softly through her nose at their antics, looking back towards Dorian.

"Camras and Deywen will continue showing you about our home. Please - allow yourself comfort during your stay."

And with that, the Keeper turned and stepped back towards Bramen and Meallan, placing her hand on both of their shoulders before walking with them. Bramen looked over to Dorian and flashed him a smile, trying to find some means of reassuring the man that he'd return. Camras brushed his hand against Dorian's shoulder, giving it a pat before he gestured off towards where the halla were still standing.

"We shall pen them. Come - we will show you how to care for the halla," he said gesturing them to his two hounds. The animals looked obediently at him and he pointed towards the deer, the dogs taking off in graceful strides again, keeping the herd together.

"It may not be very different from your shem horses," Deywen said, moving to walk alongside Dorian now. "We return them to their pen, we brush them, clean their hooves and inspect them, for any sign of blemish or injury. We feed them, speak to them, remind them we are the same."

It was wonderful to be welcomed so warmly. Dorian bowed deeply in thanks to the woman, though it probably wasn't the Elvhen tradition. This was a formal welcome and he felt he need to respond as he was used to.

"I will help you and your people as I have helped him," he said with a genuine smile. "You only have to ask, Keeper."

It was slightly disappointing news to hear that he wasn't going to be shown around by Bramen. He had been looking forward to seeing his love excited and passionate about his people. Still, he supposed having his brothers show him around Dorian would make due.

He smiled and waved goodbye to Bramen when he walked off. Dorian was going to have to get used to the affectionate touching from strangers.

"I'll admit I don't care for the horses at Skyhold, where the Inquisition is headquartered," Dorian said as he follow the path the halla taken. "I know how, of course, but I tend mostly for the dracolisks when I am down in the stables. Bramen takes care of the harts fairly often and we have the horsemaster for the horses."

Bramen had every intention of showing Dorian around - and the elf was going to make certain that he'd be able to do so. For now, Camras and Deywen could tend to him and show him how to care for the halla. Even though, in truth, Bramen would have loved doing that too. Still, he had matters to tend to, questions the Keeper still had, a brother to catch up with. He wouldn't have another opportunity like this for some time. Dorian would be all right without him for now.

Camras and Deywen led Dorian to a large pen, crafted of cut logs - surprisingly fine craftsmanship for a nomadic clan who moved about so much. The halla moved through the open gate and into their pen, a few looking back at Dorian and the two elves that followed them. The Dalish hounds were on the outside of the pen, circling in either direction, making certain all the deer were safely inside. They doubled back towards Camras, the elf giving them each a pat before Deywen moved to fetch something from one of the aravels camped near the pen. Camras remained, listening to Dorian's story.

"It sounds very much like our lethallin to tend to harts... Perhaps tonight, by the fireside, we shall tell you of the time he made an effort to tame a wild hart," he said it with a small laugh, the man seeming to relax a little more in Dorian's presence. "We do not have dracolisks in the woods but we have heard tales of the beasts, seen noble humans keeping them. They are not creatures we would dare cross."

Over by the aravel, Deywen pulled out a bag that he slung over his shoulder, retrieving two more as he made his way back to his brother and their guest. He handed them each a shoulder-bag with a nod.

"What you need is in there," Camras explained, motioning for Dorian to follow. "Brushes for their coats, poultices made of elfroot for any wounds they have, ironbark picks for their hooves, sanding stones for their antlers. We ask you only use that on the halla with mature horns," he said, gesturing to a few near the entrance of the pen, ones that had antlers that twisted and curved into beautiful shapes. Camras pointed out the younger halla, antlers much smaller, just forming and so delicate-looking.

"If you remain here for several days, our craftsmen may show you how to train their horns," Deywen said, moving in behind the pair. "Go ahead - speak what Elvhen you know to them, speak it softly as you brush their coats."

"Ah, perhaps it's best I leave tending the horns to you. I wouldn't want to break anything from simple ignorance. The rest, I'm certain I can do," he said looking over the horns. He had never tended to horns before and while his hands were very good at crafting spells he didn't expect them to be good with horns.

He took the supplies, though, without worry and strolled into the pen with the halla. They all looked sort of similar to him but he thought he found the one of those that had followed close to him on the walk back to camp and approached it.

The Elvhen he knew was incomplete at best but he spoke what he knew, telling the halla stories of Bramen's adventures and of Tevinter. He had to throw in a few words of Tevinter because the Elvhen language did not have the words he needed or he didn't know the Elvhen word.

It was soothing to do, actually. He could idly brush while he talked and sometimes not talk at all. These deer were much better than harts. They seemed calmer and more well behaved than the willful harts. Bramen should have told him how delightful they were.

The halla were a lot calmer and more accepting than the harts, a few of the gentle deer even willing to turn their heads and press their noses to Dorian's cheek as he brushed them. The elves let Dorian take his time with tending to the halla, letting the man enjoy himself as they often did. Caring for these animals was an important task, one not to be handled hastily or lightly. There was silent appreciation for the care Dorian was putting into it all.

And it didn't go unnoticed by Bramen.

The halla that Dorian was presently tending to looked over the man's shoulder, ears curving forward as it made a few light sounds. They sounded like happy sounds, the animal giving a flick of its tail. A familiar chuckle came from behind Dorian, Bramen approaching his lover as he worked. One of the Dalish hounds circled around Bramen's legs as he moved, the dog all but prancing and wagging its tail. His hands came down to ruffle up the fur on the dog's slender head, the hound bounding away after it got what it was after.

Bramen's eyes moved to Dorian and then to the halla, the animal gingerly nudging Dorian's shoulder and trying to carefully move past him, looking to greet Bramen. Bramen's hands moved to either side of the halla's cheeks, the animal sniffing at his hair and flicking its tail once more. Bramen's smile broadened, smoothing the fur on the halla's face as he watched his lover.

"It looks as though you've made a few new friends."

The halla wasn't the only one excited to see Bramen around. Dorian smiled with relief and walked over to his lover with the halla. When the deer was done getting attention Dorian stepped up to get some attention of his own.

"I've finally found some of your animals that like me," he said with a little laugh. "It only took me this long to find one."

He held out a hand, unsure what sort of affection they could show each other here. He would behave as he would in Tevinter, careful and polite if that was what was polite.

Bramen kissed the halla's muzzle and nuzzled his own nose against it. The deer made a few soft noises, those cute and happy ones that Dorian was growing fond of. With a pat against the animal's neck, the herald pulled back and urged the halla to move a little, to give him time to focus on Dorian.

"They're very trusting creatures. They can tell when someone has a good heart," he smiled towards Dorian, warmth in his eyes. There was a joy there the mage likely had never truly seen before, a happiness that couldn't quite be contained. Here he was among his people once more. There was little in this world that could shatter his mood now. He sighed softly, stepping towards the halla again and stroking along the animal's neck. It leaned forward, urging Bramen to stroke it beneath its chin.

"They know what is good and what's right. They fear little but that's often their downfall," he cooed, leaning in to nuzzle the gentle creature once more. "But that's why we care so deeply for them. They represent so much to my people, to my clan," he stepped back, admiring the halla, almost revering its presence. He turned to look at Dorian again, smiling all the while.

"I'm glad I could share them with you," he said, "I'm glad we had a chance like this, for you to see them up close."

Bramen stepped closer and took Dorian's hands, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips. Even though relationships of this sort were not favourable, they had a lot more freedom here among the Dalish than they ever would in Tevinter.

This trip to his clan was obviously the best thing for Bramen. Dorian could see it in the happiness that practically radiated from his lover, brighter than the mark on his hand. It was the most beautiful sight Dorian had ever seen.

"They've surprisingly lovely creatures," Dorian said as Bramen approached him. "Your people seem happy with me as well, at least, enough to allow me here with these creatures."

Ah, so they were allowed to kiss. Dorian sighed with relief as he returned the kiss. "I'd still like to see it with you if you're done with your Keeper and can show me more."

He would feel more confident with Bramen at his side as well. His lover would keep him from making some horrible social faux pas.

They could kiss. They could hold hands. They could exchange fond looks - so long as none of it was done in excess. They could manage that. Bramen knew Dorian could, at the very least. He stroked his lover's hands, gazing warmly at him.

"We're done for the time being," he said, allowing his hands to fall from Dorian's own. "She wants us all to gather by the fire pit this evening, once the sun sets and our evening meal is ready. The clan often seeks to eat together, particularly in moments of great joy. The clan should have a chance to meet you properly then, though it seems you've managed to exceed their expectations so far."

After all, the halla trusted him. That alone was a reason to respect him.

The halla Dorian had been tending to moved closer to the pair, bumping its nose against Dorian's shoulder, eliciting a short laugh from Bramen. "I'd be happy to show you around - though I think she wants to join us."

It would be much how they were in Skyhold. Dorian was not publicly affectionate. Teasing and flirting, yes, but not out right fawning and pawing all over Bramen.

"Are they allowed to wander like that?" Dorian ran his fingers under the halla's neck and tickled its chin. "I would hate to be responsible for losing one of these. I've just started to make friends with your older brothers."

He had met the family and not made a fool of himself. It was a good step in the right direction.

"Deywen and Camras?" he asked, giving another laugh as he shook his head. "They're my clansmen, yes and it's true we all view each other as family but they would be cousins at best, distant at that." His tone was still warm, not at all offended by his lover's assumption. "Meallan is my only sibling," he said, returning to the halla and stroking her muzzle.

"And I don't think anyone would mind if we took her out for a bit. She'll stay close - and I'm sure one of the hounds will start following us if they see one of the halla loose," he patted the deer's neck again before stepping away from it, guiding Dorian over to the gate. The halla was content to follow the mage, craning her neck to try and nip at his robes.

"Let's walk. We should have a bit of time before we're called to the fire."

Dorian makes an 'ah' sound of realization. They had seemed very much like brothers. Maybe he made an assumption foolishly but he wouldn't do it again.

"Don't chew on that. They're very expensive," he said, softly scolding the halla for chewing on his robes. They were very nice ones. He did put on his best ones for meeting the clan.

"Just here, walk here." He moved to stand at the halla's shoulder. He could walk with it and not get nibbled on. His robes did not need halla spit. It wasn't a fashionable accent.

Dorian's mistake was an easy one to make. After all, once more of the clan gathered, he'd see just how familial they all were. Among the Dalish, they cared not for names or family ties - they were family, they were the People. All of them children of Mythal, born in Elgar'nan's image. Dorian may not have been an elf - but they would welcome him all the same.

The halla's antics made Bramen smile, fond in his gaze as he watched the halla obey Dorian's request, walking by his side as they exited the pen. Bramen closed the gate up once Dorian and the deer had stepped out - and true to his expectation, one of the windhounds trotted over to them, circling the group before hanging back a few feet. This one was white with a dark brown face and paws, spots on its flanks. It was just as slender and tall as the others, narrow face watching them as it sat and waited for them to move. Bramen looked to the dog with smile, speaking something in elvhen that made the dog's ears perk up a bit, the animal looking towards him.

Bramen began to walk, making sure Dorian and the halla were following. The dog lingered a few feet behind them, its focus on the halla more than anything. "I'm not sure what to show you first," Bramen said, reaching back to take Dorian's hand. "The camp isn't exactly the most interesting... You've seen the halla pen, the grazing land," he shrugged a little, leading Dorian around the outskirts of the camp, around the aravels and pointing out varied locations.

"Over there is the fire pit, the Keeper's aravel is near it. That's where we'll gather in a short time," he said, giving Dorian's hand a squeeze. "And over there is where Haren Taehel lives, he's our master craftsman. He does incredible things with ironbark and hart antlers. I'll have to let him show you his work. Maybe I'll see about getting him to make you a set of rings."

"Show me the aravels," he said, leaving his arm draped over the halla's shoulders. It was a nice little arm rest as he walked. It also allowed him to scratch the halla when it made the noises that meant it wanted to be scratched. It seemed to have a very sensitive place between the shoulder blades.

He had seen the carts before in the Exalted Plains but not up close. Those Dalish had not trusted him or anyone besides Bramen. He wanted to know how they worked, how all these people lived in them while they traveled, how they stored their goods. They seemed so small. Though if the halla pulled them, they couldn't be too massive.

"Well, I am missing a ring these days." Dorian could easily see his ring on Bramen's finger. "An ironbark ring might be nice. I've curious about the magical properties of the wood. I know ironbark is a favorite of elvhen mages. I've always wondered why."

"The aravels are mostly meant for storage when we're at camp," Bramen explained, though he guided Dorian and the halla towards one of the aravels that was stationed nearby. It was an impressive structure, smaller than a carriage but no wider than a wagon. The sides of the craft were opened, silks draped from the apparent sails that covered them. This one so happened to be full of supplies - wood kept to dry for the fire, broken antlers, bits of metal for daggers and arrows. It looked small from the outside but as Dorian could see by what was stored inside, it was surprisingly roomy.

"We open them up like this to sleep in as well - we can fit five or six of us in without issue though we prefer simply sleeping outdoors. Out by the fire, in hunter tents, whatever suits us and the night. When you see Haren Taehel's workshop, you'll see just how impressive and versatile they can be."

They were quite roomy on the inside. The Inquisition could learn a few things about transporting supplies long distances. If they doubled as homes as well it would make the supplies runs much better.

"I suppose we'll be sleeping in a tent while we're out here?" he mused, considering the inside of the space. It could be quite spacious for two people, though a tent wouldn't be bad either. He was used to that thanks to the Inquisition.

Bramen looked so happy Dorian had to brush his hand gently across his cheek. "Show me."

How could Bramen deny that face that looked so eager, so willing to see and learn more. He motioned for Dorian to come along, more than willing to show him, to introduce him to more of the clan before every last one of them clamoured for his attention. With Dorian, the halla and the dog all in tow, he approached the craftmaster's aravel - an elderly elf working away at whittling a halla sculpture. Even from here, Dorian could get a good look inside the man's aravel - it was far more homely looking than the last.

Inside the aravel was what appeared to be an area designated for sleeping, a raised cot that looked big enough for at least two people. Next to that, supplies were piled - mainly bits for the craftmaster's work. Half-finished bows, blades suited for daggers, uncarved hart antlers, animal pelts and leathers. Everything that the clan might need to clothe themselves, to hunt, and laying out on the table that the elf was working at, smaller crafts and trinkets. Little halla statues, small ones of wolves, intricately carved antlers and even small accessories. Rings, bracelets, even necklaces carved from bone, each with unique designs lightly etched into the surface.

"Aneth ara, Haren," Bramen said with a polite bow of his head. The older, grey-haired elf rose up, the tattoo on his face little more than a design covering one of his eyes. He put down his work and approached, a smile upon his face in doing so. The older man bowed his head regards to Bramen before closing the distance between himself and Bramen, holding the younger man's face in his hands before leaning in to place a kiss on his brow.

"You return to us, da'len," the elf said, speaking Elvhen though it was simple enough speech for Dorian to pick up on. The man stepped back, taking a good look at Bramen with fond eyes, smiling warmly. "Mihya will be overjoyed. Say hello to her before our evening meal. You will not have time otherwise."

"I shall, Haren," Bramen nodded before he switched to common, gesturing towards Dorian. "This is one of my companions from Skyhold, a man who's done great things for the Inquisition," he explained, "He has been at my side for a long while, he means a great and many things to me. He wished to look at your crafts. The old elf looked to Dorian, almost scrutinizing him with his pale eyes, giving a soft hum before he nodded.

"You might be a shem but you've treated our Bramen well," he said, speaking common, "I consider him to be my own son. You are welcome to examine my wares and ask any questions that you will."

The craftsmanship was amazing. He had never seen such find carving and detail. Usually in Tevinter things like this were done by molds or magic with metal manipulated into shapes and details.

"Well, Bramen has told me I should seek the blessing of Falon'Din," he said as he stepped away from the halla to closely examin the good. "I happen to be in need of a new ring. Do you have any baring his symbols? And, if you have one, I would like to examin a mage staff of ironbark. Out of curiosity. Though, there is a Dalish mercenary I know that might like it."

He glanced over at Bramen to see if he liked the idea. Dalish and the Chargers could afford their own goods if they wanted but Dorian was oddly fond of the elvhen mage who teased others about her mage status.

Bramen only gave Dorian a smile, knowing the elf he spoke of. Dalish was a good woman, the Chargers were a good team overall. It would be nice to bring the woman something to remind her of the clan she'd long left behind. Mages never had it easy, even among the Dalish clans, unfortunately. Taehel, however, grimaced a bit, giving another light hum.

"Don't have any ironbark staves made up," he said with a shake of his head, "We've only two mages to our clan, staves aren't in high demand," the man murmured, proceeding to pick up a few of the bone rings, examining the carvings upon them, looking for one that met Dorian's criteria.

"I remember Mihya used to go through staves quicker than our hunters went through arrows," Bramen piped up, giving the craftsmaster a thin smile. The man returned Bramen's glance, though there was a sadness behind his gaze.

"That she did, da'len. Never quite got used to riding while carrying her staff," he said, shaking his head. He offered Dorian one of the rings he'd carved, the ring with intricately carved deer skulls etched into the surface. On closer inspection, each of the skulls appeared connected with a thorny vine, the back of the ring having the image of a rose there. For such a small piece, the precise work on it was impeccable.

"That's one," Taehel said, before he offered up a bracelet, covered i a repeated pattern of deer with skulls on their heads, each biting the other's tail to remain together. Varied lines connected along the edge, creating a diamond-esque pattern.

"Falon'Din is our shepherd, guiding the dead and whispering kind promises in their ear. He promises them no more pain, to not fear their life's end, for he is with them now. He will not let what is dark take what remains of their light. We revere him and his soul, Dirthamen, as deeply as we revere any of our gods."

"So Bramen told me. I've been a horrible nag about learning his tales and histories," he said as he examined the ring. It was incredible work and of course skulls were common in necromancy and its symbolism. "I'm quite familiar with the spirits of the dead myself. I like to imagine Falon'Din and I would have very interesting conversations."

He tested the fit of the ring on his bare finger to see if it would fit. His hands were quite a bit thicker than elvhen ones. Still, he could change it with magic without damaging the work, possibly. He would have to make sure first.

"What do you think, amatus? Does it suit me?" He imagined the clan would not understand Tevene so he felt safe saying it.

"It suits you perfectly," Bramen beamed, overjoyed both because of his lover's interest in his culture and his people, being so welcoming to the man who meant so much to him. "It's a bit small though..." he murmured, glancing to the craftsmaster again. The old man nodded and looked to Dorian,

"I can have a larger one made in the next few days, my apprentice should be able to size your hand this evening, should you be willing," the man offered, "He could also look into that ironbark staff if you're quite serious on that matter. He isn't one to turn down practice on that."

"Thank you, Haren," Bramen bowed his head, "Your generous offer does not go unnoticed." He looked to Dorian, hoping the man would welcome it.

Work has been obscene this week. Sorry I haven't been tagging.

Boo work. I'm sorry!

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