Clarimond Cousland has been Teryna of Highever since Ostagar. In all the chaos that came pouring out of that cock-up, two things were made clear to her: The King was dead and her brother was missing. Missing means as good as dead under those circumstances, and a Cousland does what needs to be done. What needs to be done? Security, protection, peace, function. Organising her banns, her freeholders, and her relatives to resist and stay safe at the same time. It'd been simple, at the start. Relatively so, anyway; her enemy was Howe, back then. Now? With Teryn Loghain trying to seize power, with bandits and darkspawn raids and banns throwing their lot in with the powers that be, it's a complicated, exhausting mess.
Tonight, she wants nothing more than a couple drinks and a bed more comfortable than the ground. Dangerous to be on the king's highway like this? A little. More than a little, if she's being honest. But it's a highway running through territory loyal to her, and a village loyal to her, and that's all the safety Clarimond's known for months. They'd saved a caravan of refugees today, and enough local family mixed in that Steina's Hill isn't going to turn on her in any case. Drinks on the house, too, and she's settling into her first when one of the local militia enters to let her know that a group of strangers have walked into the village. Strangers bearing a resemblance to the group of at least two grey wardens who have been causing trouble in the south.
Clarimond thanks the woman, gets a second mug, and walks to the front door of the tavern to watch as the group walks through. Yes, that's them, complete with their leader - a dark-haired elf-woman who walks like she could take on the world. Probably could, given what Clarimond's heard of her. Hafter, having followed Clarimond out, puts his paws on the wooden railing and woofs a questioning greeting to the mabari trotting at the dark-haired elf's heels. Clarimond herself doesn't move, just gives a friendly nod if any of the group look at her. But underneath her apparent ease, she's poised to fight, to run.
She'd run from Duncan, after all. Wardens, even wardens on the run, aren't what she needs right now if they decide to try and press that issue.
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branchandroot
the teryna and the warden
Date: 2017-11-27 04:47 am (UTC)Clarimond Cousland has been Teryna of Highever since Ostagar. In all the chaos that came pouring out of that cock-up, two things were made clear to her: The King was dead and her brother was missing. Missing means as good as dead under those circumstances, and a Cousland does what needs to be done. What needs to be done? Security, protection, peace, function. Organising her banns, her freeholders, and her relatives to resist and stay safe at the same time. It'd been simple, at the start. Relatively so, anyway; her enemy was Howe, back then. Now? With Teryn Loghain trying to seize power, with bandits and darkspawn raids and banns throwing their lot in with the powers that be, it's a complicated, exhausting mess.
Tonight, she wants nothing more than a couple drinks and a bed more comfortable than the ground. Dangerous to be on the king's highway like this? A little. More than a little, if she's being honest. But it's a highway running through territory loyal to her, and a village loyal to her, and that's all the safety Clarimond's known for months. They'd saved a caravan of refugees today, and enough local family mixed in that Steina's Hill isn't going to turn on her in any case. Drinks on the house, too, and she's settling into her first when one of the local militia enters to let her know that a group of strangers have walked into the village. Strangers bearing a resemblance to the group of at least two grey wardens who have been causing trouble in the south.
Clarimond thanks the woman, gets a second mug, and walks to the front door of the tavern to watch as the group walks through. Yes, that's them, complete with their leader - a dark-haired elf-woman who walks like she could take on the world. Probably could, given what Clarimond's heard of her. Hafter, having followed Clarimond out, puts his paws on the wooden railing and woofs a questioning greeting to the mabari trotting at the dark-haired elf's heels. Clarimond herself doesn't move, just gives a friendly nod if any of the group look at her. But underneath her apparent ease, she's poised to fight, to run.
She'd run from Duncan, after all. Wardens, even wardens on the run, aren't what she needs right now if they decide to try and press that issue.