"Var lath vir suledin!"

The voice filled with pleading and a promise that would tear the fabric of reality asunder shook through the Fade. Fragments of a past that was not so very long ago. Shaking herself free of the Fade, a young elf just out of the cusp of youth lifted herself onto her elbows as she sat up from the moss she had been using as a bed. Blue-green eyes shimmered with a ghostly green hue of magic as slim hands gripped her forehead. Around her the ancient ruins of the shrine to the Dread Wolf were slowly rotting away. But not to the woman's eyes. She saw the glory of what once was. The shrine in it's prime and the grand windswept cliffs and forests before that. The elves had shaped so many things, but there was always a price to the change. To shape this shrine, they had carved from earth and wood. Both of which now sought to return to the natural order of things. Taking several deep breathes, the elf woman closed her eyes tightly before opening them once more.

Now the ruins were merely that. Her pack sitting next to the eluvian that was passage and hers. Crossing one leg over the other woman combed out the long pale hair she had inherited from her mother. Across the valley of the bones of an ancient dwelling, the elf watched as the rising sun slowly burned away the mist that slipped between the pillars and statues. Small movements as the world came alive, and birds began their song. Athelya Harellan enjoyed what her friends in the Fade showed her, but she enjoyed the beauty of the waking world as well. There was a movement to this side of the Veil that the spirits just didn't understand. Oh, they enjoyed watching the events and nudging their help through the Veil when it was thin and they could do some good. But they didn't see the complex picture that wove each of them together and into, what she saw, as necessity. Compassion, wisdom, love, courage. Where would the world be without those?

Lost. Just as she was. Lost and alone. Finishing off the braid, the woman let the rope of hair fall over her chest. Harellan they called her in the camps of Fen'Harel's agents. In the language of the elvhen it was 'trickster'. To the Dalish it was 'traitor to one's kin'. At the end of the day, Athelya noted that both of these were true in some regard. Though there was a third name, one that Athelya would be called by if she were to journey the many paths back to her mother's people. A name she did not want nor ask for, but one the young elven woman knew she would have to take in for herself time. Leaving the pack behind her, the agent of Fen'Harel wandered deeper into the ruins. The orb at her hip thumping her with every stride from it's netted bag as she studied the ancient history of the elves as though this was her first time here.

How long ago had it been when she had been brought here unconscious from ripping her magic to shreds to command the Fade? It had been her own folly which had lured a group of Qunari scouts to her. Of course they had only seen a potential slave to their society or informant, and Athelya had not stuck about to ask for which specific one they thought she would be best in. Fleeing through the forest and nearly off a cliff, she had pressed her power against the Veil and pleaded for aid. Aid had come but at the price of a dear spirit as it became her pride and folly. The Qunari had fallen to it, and she had nearly as well if intervention had not come. Blue-green eyes paused as she stared at the statue of a howling wolf. Laying a hand upon the stone, she called to the power and spells ran from her lips in the tongue of the elvhen. Vines receded, and chipped stone was made whole and polished. Sweat beaded on her brow as she studied her handiwork. The statue looked as though it was recently scrubbed and daily cared for. Time still wore at it, but it would take longer than otherwise.

Pleased, Atheyla continued her walk. Her stern features and knife like ears proudly on display. This was a sanctuary for those of her organization. Though she did belong to three technically, Athelya smirked slightly. Each one wanted the others to fail, and believed they had the right idea. Which was something she would not argue against! Athelya knew the Inquisition which remained and was working with the Tevinter Imperium and The Divine. Orlais never worked with anyone for more than one deal, then the Game began again. Typical she supposed, they were famous for it and her Aunt did get a perverse pleasure from playing their games. Tevinter was facing down the Qun over some diplomatic issue which was causing a major headache for Dorian and Iron-Bull from what her dearest of friends told her. Leaping over a fallen pillar she stumbled and turned to eye the fallen piece of history. Her fingers brushing the pulsing orb before she turned on her heels and continued on her way. It would not do for her to exausht herself without any back up. She had learned that from her first experience with the Dread Wolf and Solas had learned that da'leni were quite stubborn and harder to loose than he would think. Though Fen'Harel now believed he had some more intel from her sources on the Inquisition movements. Which he did to be fair, and the Inquisition had information on him.

It was very amusing she though as she stood on the edge of the ruins and forest, looking over the railings of the 'porch' to the distant world. Right now she was on a sort of leave Athelya supposed. Giving time for the world to move, she had wanted to see her mother but unable to return to Skyhold the elf had taken to the Fade. Here it was a good place to find solitude. Lifting her hands she pulled the orb from it's fishnet pouch and sent her magic through the precious stone as it slowly began to spin. Moving faster and faster as Atheyla focused her energy past the orb, to the Veil behind it. Kieran, her bodyguard and closest friend, had made the stone partly as a jest and partly to truly help her. As a sickly child, she had no way to focus the magic that was overrunning her frail body and the orb had saved her life. Leading to the companions of her mother to question even more about her paternal blood. Lifting her her hands she felt the magic ripple and strike with a thunder clap as green shards of magic ripped across the sky like some bizarre fireworks the mages sometimes cast for parties in Orlais. Grabbing the orb as it dropped from the air before her, Athelya gripped the railing tightly as she wiped her brow. She needed more power, but to deplete her supply of lyrium was not something she could do. She had been hoarding the supply since she had first begun working with magic and had a fair amount stockpiled. Gazing over the forest she smiled at seeing the tail end of a campfire. Someone so near her ruins? That was a curious thing for they were deep in the Wylds. Pulling on the cuffs on her coat after several long minutes, she begun walking towards the smoke. Picking up her forgotten staff that she had left by the steps, best to appear 'normal' after all.

Perhaps she shouldn't have tried the little experiment with the Veil, but it had been a good eighteen, perhaps closer to nineteen, years roughly since the Inquisitor had defeated Corypheus. Many of the rifts had been sealed by the Anchor before it had gone out of control and perhaps some still remained, but Athelya doubted it. IF they did exist the creator of the Veil would close them, if only to keep the spirits about those parts of the Fade happy. Fen'harel was odd like that, but the elvhen woman had grown used to the antics of her teacher. For it was he who had helped her perfect her magic, had sharped her skill over the last two years she had spent running from who she was. What she was. But the pale haired elf knew she would never escape it, and someday she would have to step up. To take the place Fate had shaped her for. Perhaps she had run away merely for the escape from beneath her mother's protective prison, but instead of running from the answers she had wanted to reject. The legacy she never wanted to be part of. Athelya had fallen straight back into the hands of that same legacy. Though it was no longer a well intended prison, the hands had become the whetstone. One which had strengthen and sharpened what had been healed and allowed to flourish. It was oddly fitting, Athelya thought according to the old legends of the Evanuris.

Though her thoughts were paused as a voice called out through the dense forest. Knocking aside several branches with her staff of plain and twisted wood, Athelya gave a dry look as she gazed upon the archer and his nocked arrow. To find someone so very, very far out in the Wilds. It was surprising to the mage, even more so was it when she realized she gazed upon a human. "And I would be very careful about shooting before you learn of whom you are aiming that arrow at." She remarked with a dry voice, a slightly amused smirk softening her stern features. "I am quite curious as to why a human is so far out in the Wilds, weeks from any farmstead or village. Let alone so near one of my people's ruins." A shimmer of magic flickered along her staff as she stepped past the branches and lowered the staff allowing them to fall back in place. Were the human archer to fire at the elven maid he would find his arrow knocked aside by a barrier of magic.

The blue in Athelya's eyes was far more prevalent, and a dull color, compared to the vibrant green flecks that seemed to gleam with a hidden light in comparison. The knee length coat was a deep blue edged with grey, her leggings looking to be of comfortable leather. All in all the clothing was many years out of style and not bearing the wear of one who had been tramping through the forest for weeks herself though there was a good bit of wear here and there. The scorch of magic, the small cuts that could be from a fight. The few stains of mud or blood. "You, humans, generally avoid them for fear of curses or other such things. Ghosts, the agents of Fen'harel, and such." The elven woman continued on waving a dismissive hand in the general direction of her ruins. If they did belong to anyone it was the Dread Wolf, but she did have some claim. An amusing though, and one that only select individuals knew. Agents that worked for her, to create something a future that would span any the Dread Wolf or the Inquisition could forge.

Raising a brow at the human as she waited for a reply, Harellan flipped her braid onto her back, irritated by the stray strands that kissed her cheek. A distraction that she did not approve of. How many mages lost their concentration and fell because of foolish distractions that disrupted a spell causing it to falter or worse, backfire. "Though I suppose the hunting is better out here. Fewer competitors and I am not among them." She mused over his reason for being so far into the middle of essentially nowhere if an eluvian had not been within those ruins. But there was also the matter of what to do with him. To let him run loose was perfectly fine in her eyes, but Abelas was going to be coming in a few days and the ancient elf was picky about humans being in the relative area of a elven ruin. Understandable seeing as how long he guarded the Well of Sorrows, but unnecessary for Athelya had no intention of letting a human ruin her vacation spot. For all they were ancient the two elves that could 'command' her hardly noticed she was absent from the camp, at least for a handful of days. But giving them a common place to look simplified things. She was able to plan out her own battle strategy and pass her orders onto Kieran or he to her. They would go their separate ways with no one the wiser thus far. If only because they never arrived at the same time. Their notes and letters hidden away in some secret spot they had agreed on, changing it every so many moons. Their letters and clues written in a code developed from their childhood. "Or you could be here to rob and loot an already empty temple. I'd advise against that, the only thing of interest is myself and my pack. Neither of which holds anything overly interesting." A utter lie in regard to herself, for Athelya liked to think herself quite interesting, but it was true about her pack. Which had run out of food the previous night. Thus signalling it was time for her to return.

Sparrow lowered his bow slightly, still holding it at the ready as it now rest on his lap as he sat down. "Ah I've no quarrel with you, I'm coming back from a merc job and just happened to stumble on these ruins. To be honest I didn't even know they was here let alone that someone was camping in them," he said in a gruff voice, his body once again warmed by the campfire as he sat on his sleeping mat.

"Whatchu doing out here anyways? I've been feeling lots of magical energy recently around here. Puts me on edge, not that I have a problem with magic if it was you. But I don't have much experience with magic myself. My ma raised me alone with my two older brothers. One's a blacksmith, one's a tailor, and then you got me,"

" Guess I should introduce myself since I'm talking your ear off. Name's Klaine but people just call me Sparrow. Feel free to do the same, as calling me Klaine wing get you nothing but a blank stare from anyone you ask about me. Not that you would but still, "

Sparrow cursed himself internally for talking this woman's head off. Being a mercenary he got all sorta of jobs that took him all sorts of places. He was used to meeting people and spending time with strangers. That's how he made friends, and he had friends everywhere.

"I got some cooked rabbit if you want it. There's not much round these parts but I managed to nab a few birds and a couple rabbits. All the bird's gone though, man's gotta eat" he said and smiled widely at her. "What's your name anyways since we are giving out introductions,"

As the man lowered his bow and sat back down, Athelya relaxed her grip on the staff. It was a decoy from her real tool the orb that had gained her sanctuary with the Dread Wolf. An odd thing, he had looked upon the orb and saw it for what it was. So he had taught her without realizing what she was, it was something that amused young Athelya. So many people saw so much and did not realize what is was they saw exactly. For this reason no story would be quite the same depending on teller and listener, something she had often argued with her Uncle Varric Tethras. The Viscount of Kirkwall and one of her few allies who the elvhen maid suspected was catching onto her plan. Several of the reports Kieran brought to her had noted that Varric was diverting the Inquisition and Inquisitor more heavily towards her friend's advice. Often pointing out reasons it would work, or was reasonable much more than he pointed out the flaws. Several of his recent books had small snippets of side characters and their lives which Athelya noted seemed to relate back to how her adoptive relations were doing. A reassurance cleverly hidden. Perhaps the Dread Wolf saw this as well if he bothered to read the books. Though that was something Athelya doubted.

Turning her attention back to the man as he chattered on about not knowing anyone was living in the ruins, the mage took a seat herself. Careful as to not disturb the orb upon her hip or accidentally sit on it. Her lips twitched as she remembered the one time that had come about. Though the thought of living in the ruins, of rebuilding them to house the glory of her desperate people, was appealing to Athelya. Something she hoped would come about if her plans ran course and true. But that was a ways off as of yet and she still fought to keep those dreams moving. Guiding the hands of powers greater than her own as she tried to sharp through others what she willed herself to do. "I do not live there per say." She noted with a slight chuckle. "I come from time to time to rest my head and remember what had been, is, and will be again. The Veil is thin here and my friends find it appealing to their characteristics." She noted, the orb seeming to underline her point as a glimmer of green light ran over it. Laying a long fingered hand over her foci, the mage felt the power slip about her fingers like a warm trickle of water. Will was the key of magic, it formed and shaped the powers of the Fade through the Veil. Giving an outlet to the power in the form of what the mage desired.

But her desire was in her curiosity. The desire to know and understand the lives of those around her. 'Windy' Varric had called her for her whirlwind search for answers. Windy for the wanderlust the dwarf had seen in her veins. Perhaps it was a inherited trait, Athelya thought as she watched the small fire crackle quietly. In the end it didn't matter as she listened to 'Sparrow's' story, drinking in what he told her just as she drank in what he didn't tell her. "I did not have brothers, nor sisters." Her voice was curious as she slowly offered up a piece of herself to gain more of him. To learn more of this human who wandered so close to the ruins. "My mother was a warrior- of sorts- of the Inquisition and one child was plenty." Though there was a bit of lie in that, Athelya knew though it was never said aloud. Her mother would have given her brothers, sisters, but there was only one man who held Selwyn's heart. Her mother had settled for no other even when urged by her dear friends. Perhaps that slow sorrow in her mother's eyes had been the hardest of prisons of all, even more than the well meaning isolation Athelya knew.

Tearing the leg from the rabbit over the fire after she removed her glove, Athelya bit into the meat. It was cooked well with just the right tenderness that Athelya enjoyed in her game. Swallowing the bite, the elvhen maiden gave a slight choked cough. "My name-? I did not say?" She arched a pale brow, taking another bite as she thought back on their conversation. Indeed he was right, she had not said. Pausing before taking another strip from the rabbit's leg, Athelya considered if she should tell him. Her name was no grand secret but a human knowing something would potentially lead more this way and that wouldn't do for her plans. Not to mention the hot water if her so called superior's found out. "I am known as Athelya. Though I won't bother with a last name, nor clan name. I doubt you would know it." Or he would know it all too well. Harellan was name she had taken when she fled Skyhold, but Latharelfen was the name her mother had granted her at birth. Love of the Dread Wof, or the fate of one who had. Those of her small sect of loyalist who wanted a world where elves were no longer servants, no longer a 'lesser race' but where they could be with their half-elven kin and friends from other races. But that was neither here nor there. "As for the magic... Aye, it was I who cast the spells." Her free hand gave a slightly mocking bow, as she continued to nibble at the rabbit leg. Speaking between her bites with a careful wording. "I was restoring and cleaning a few of the statues. Though the pillars and fallen columns are a tad too much for me yet."

Sparrow released his grip on his bow as Athelya, that was her named he'd learned, bit into a rabbit leg. He seemed to have no need in arming himself, as if she wanted to attack him she would have already. So instead he sat back and bossed his legs in front of him, grabbing a rabbit's leg for himself and biting into hungrily. The juices from the animal trickled down his chin as he chewed, his eyes looking her up and down as he ate his meal.

She was small, but Sparrow had run into enough elves to know they were naturally small. She was pretty though, more than pretty he realized a moment later. He found her stunning, though he would never say that out loud. He'd learned the hard way that complimenting strangers didn't always get him a blush and a smile. Sometimes, it got him slapped.

But he'd also been drunk those times, so maybe he'd deserved it.

Taking another bite, Sparrow chewed thoughtfully before swallowing his bite. "The Inquisition aye? Did a Lotta good they did, that damn Elder One was making it damned impossible for me to find work. Everyone was all blood magic this and demons that. If there's one thing I don't mess with, it's demons," he said, pointing his now bare rabbit's leg bone at her briefly before tossing it aside into the brush.

"I had a job once where I had to deal with some possessed mages. They all turned into these awful demon things, all black and creepy looking. One of them was red, and huge. It was the scariest job I've ever taken," He said with a shudder and a shake of his head.

"Magic is all right, but once demons starting getting brought into it, I'm out," He continued with a frown, still remembering the job he was talking about. It had been a rough one, and he'd almost not made it out several times. But in the end, he'd gotten the job done and collected his gold.

That's all he really cared about anyways.

Athelya tilted her head slightly as Sparrow mentioned the Elder One, tossing the bone over her shoulder as it burst into mage fire. Consuming the bone to ash, with a slight flare. Her eyes shimmering a slight green as she did so. By her reckoning this man was in his early twenties. Putting him as a young child when the Veil had been torn into the sky. "You were but a child then, if my guess of your age is accurate." She noted with a certain hardness in her voice. The entire ordeal was something of a rough spot to the elf, but with reason. It had been her family that had fought and still fought over the future of the world. Corypheus had merely been the lesser of the problem. A herald to a large threat. The threat that had unleashed the Elder One, though Athelya would give Fen'Harel credit for sticking about to see his own mess dealt with. But it didn't mean she didn't feel the sorrow or the hurt of the lack of her father. Uncles just were not the same when you watched other families gathered and happy at a market or during festivals.

A creased brow frowned as she watched the fire pop and sparks fly high in the air. "Corypheus was a problem and he was dealt with. But he was merely one among many that all of Thedas faced. The mages and templars. The Dread Wolf. Tevinter, Olais and the Divine's death." The pale head shook back and forth sadly. "It was before my time, but all that had happened is not over quite yet. The first storm passed, but now a second gathers." Her voice was filled with sorrow as she felt the flicker of magic ripple from the eluvian far off in the ruins. Someone had come through, but it could anyone from what Athelya could pick up. A mere courier looking for her, to Fen'Harel himself. Neither of which concerned the elvhen maid. Watching the human she cocked a arrogant brow, with a slightly amused smile. He was a interesting fellow some might even call handsome in some way. But she had little interest for the looks of someone, a quick mind was more to her tastes. Her thoughts dipped down to sorrow once more. For even if she did find this human interesting she was bound by her duty to produce an elvhen heir. It was something Kieran and her had argued about over the last two years. Athelya had dug in her heels and coldly informed her eldest friend that a heir would have to be elvhen, else all she worked for would be undermined by the race of humans. It's not something she looked forward to, but the thought was the in her mind as she moved towards the future she strove for.

"I do have to disagree however." Athelya stated firmly as Sparrow brought up spirits and demons. Her smile turning slightly wicked as she chuckled more to herself than to her companion. "Compassion, love, strength, courage, knowledge, wisdom." She gestured to Sparrow, as a stream of magic flickered from her hand to the fire. A illusion taking form aided by the flames. "They are friends of mine. Demons are what mages force them to become by pulling them through a hole that is too small, or against their will. Forcing a guise upon them of something they are not." Her eyes were sorrowful as an image of a person being dragged through a small hole appeared. Once on the otherside they were mangled as their bones had twisted to fit though the hole. "They cannot help it, and yet mages and humans blame them for it. My own kin as well. The strain that it puts upon them make them- the spirits, I mean- forget themselves in the pain." The image dissolved into flames again as the woman sat back, gazing at Sparrow.

Sparrow rubbed the stubble on his chin, thinking. He grabbed another rabbit's leg, chewing in thought as he stayed silent for a moment."I'll be twenty three in three months actually, so I was almost a young child after the biggest part of the war was over. But I started work shortly after to help pay for food on the table for my family, and the first time going out to look was slim pickings," he said with a shake if his head, " Lest I wanted a job involving demons, and I don't take them," he said with a frown.

Finishing off his second leg quickly, Sparrow tossed the bone aside and sat back on his mat. He rubbed his stomach for a moment, a thoughtful look still on his face. "As for the demon stuff, I honestly don't know much about it so if thats what you say is true, I'll take your word for it," He said simply, turning to gaze at the forest for a brief moment.

"I don't know nothing about no second storm, but if it's as bad as the first I don't know how Thedas will survive. It barely survived the last time. Maker and whose to say we won't have a Blight next? Haven't seen the Darkspawn hordes in a while eh?" Sparrow shook his head with a small sigh. "Figure I'm best off just keeping to the sidelines til all this shit blows over,"

There was a silvery laugh as Atheyla tossed her head back at the mention of Darkspawn. "If they wish to come let them!" She urged with an amused look in her eyes. This 'Sparrow' was amusing she would grant him that! A Blight was the least of his worries, but she would not tell him such. She would not tell him that the eluvian that stood in those ruins was a bridge to the traitor of the Inqusition, nor that that said elf might be making his way though the ruins or forests to seek her out. That would take a great deal of time, for her magic was about that ruin like a thick fog that morning could not burn through. With all the power she had been using to restore and preserve, it would be a confusing trail to any. If it was to be, Athelya would deal with it then. With wit, charm, fact, and power. All of which she had on hand, the elf maid thought with amusement. "The Blight is not to concern myself nor what comes." She did give him that cryptic remark. Running a hand over her foci and tracing the whorls that designed the stone orb. A green aura trailing after hr fingers.

"Thedas will survive." Her voice was strong and sure as she held out the orb and let it whirl free of her grasp hovering over her once more gloved hand. "Thedas will survive if people can learn to look beyond themselves, to accept the ancient as well as the new." Looking back to the ruins, she gave a short sigh. As much as she would like to remain and to speak with this human man. Athelya felt the need, the call to return to her plan so carefully laid. There was also the matter she did not want Klaine to suffer an arrow through his chest if it was Abelas or one of his men. The ancient elves had come to fight for the lowering of the Veil, though many still remained to protect the ruins of the Temple of Mythal for all they had lost the Well of Sorrows. Closing her green-blue eyes, Athelya gave a tired sigh. "You should pack up your camp and return to civilization for a time. The wilds are a dangerous place for a human." Giving the man a stern look she set her staff in the ground moving to stand but not quite standing. "Especially so near the ruins of my kin."

Pulling herself to her feet she flipped the long braid back over her shoulder so that it would lay once more upon her chest. Athelya was taller than most elves by mere inches, but that height spoke of ancient blood to those who knew. "I have journeyed into the Fade and ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of ancient civilizations. I know a storm when I see one stir among the powers of the continent. The possibly of restoration, however slim, must be grasped with both hands if Thedas is to survived." She stared off towards the ruins her eyes deep in thought. "Though I fear the price that might be extracted before the chance comes to fruition." Athelya sighed and frowned as she gripped her staff with both hands. Troubled by possibilities that could be bearing down. "For that. I hope no Blight will wreck upon this land. It would dash away the hopes of many if it were to come to pass. The hope and the love of many turned to ash. For love may exist but hope must nurture it." Glancing to Sparrow she gave a weary smile. "Forgive me, my thoughts are filled with worry and dire warnings and knowledge of what is coming." The orb floated beside her before a gloved hand grasped it and slipped the precious object into it's net. "It is a blessing and a curse."

Sparrow felt a heavy weight settle in the middle of his chest as he heard Athelya's words. So, she knew what was coming huh? And it wasn't a Blight, or so she seemed to think. Sparrow was under the impression that the elf knew exactly what to expect and had been preparing for it for quite some time. Which made him feel extraordinarily out of the loop, as usual. He was usually the last to know anything important anyways, since he spent so little time paying attention to anyone he wasn't get paid to keep track of.

With a small sigh, he picked up a stick and stoked his slowly dying fire. "You seem to know am awful lot about the state of things and exactly what is going on," He said in a knowing tone, a twinkle in his eye. Though, whether that was from the fire or something else, one couldn't be too sure.

"Maybe we should stick together until the shit really hits the fan, if it's gonna be as bad as you say," He said with a shrug of his shoulders,"I mean, I'm no swordsman but my bow can cut down just as many enemies I assure you," He said with a wink at her.

Athelya cocked her head at the human as he merely sat there and stirred the morning's fire. The sun was growing steadily towards it zenith and she found herself bemused by the man's slow pace at life. Even envious of it. Half of her little game was appearing as he was, the other half was thinking moves ahead of her blood kin. Seldom were her thoughts so able to laze about upon the breeze and travel as they may. A small smile twitched at her lips. "If you indeed traveled with me human my kin would kill you." Her voice was soft, but her eyes sorrowful at the truth of those words. "Unless you were able to convince them of your allegiance to a elvhen parent and claim at least to be a half-blood." Athelya mussed looking off towards the ruins with too clever eyes. It was possible he could pull off such a feat but it would be difficult. To teach him the language of her kin, to teach him the customs he would need to know. But the real question was if it would be worth it? Sparrow would be a weak link in her network if she revealed her plans to him even in part. He would be a flaw even if he was not informed of her scheme and he was found to be pure human.

Gripping the staff in both hands she studied the sky far above the green canopy. If he was found out it was thousands more who would suffer and she could no more allow that to happen than she could allow him to die because the one who sought her was coming. It would take time for them to reach her of course. Athelya had become adept at walking trails many last checked and hiding her presence. Many of the Dalish clans respect her for her skill as well as her blood when she chose to reveal it. Turning the piercing gaze back to the young Sparrow, young by standards of her teacher's allies, the elvhen maid gave a small smirk. "I was born to this storm, and it is what will consume me in the end. I do not know 'an awful lot', I know exactly what is going on and what is going to happen. I have spent two years orchestrating the stage to set the scene I require." She brandished her staff at the fire, the embers dying instantly.

Tilting a pale head in a regal nod, Athelya spun her staff about one gloved hand with the ease of long practice. Walking towards the edge of the camp opposite the ruin, the elf looked over her should with a raised brow. "And I fear it will be worse than you will image, if I fail. The Veil will be torn asunder by Fen'Harel and the Fade will merge with this World. My kin will regain much, or lose it all along with the rest of the races of Thedas." She commented with a dry voice, sounding bored by this fact. Though it was a lie. "If the Inquistion or the rest of Thedas wins my kin will be massacred for this attempt. Humans have never been forgiving to elves in the past. I do not believe that has changed in the grand scheme of 'pulling apart the world'. Despite the noble intentions behind it." Locking both hands behind her back the staff held horizontal behind her, Athelya looked up towards the sky as she wandered into the woods. Listening to see if the marksman was coming. Casting a raised brow over her shoulder the elf made a noise of annoyance. "Are you coming, Sparrow? I believe when all is said I might be of need of your assistance. Or you could remain here... And wait for whoever came through the eluvian to catch up and butcher you." She added with a pointed look towards the ruins. "You might even have the honor to die at the hand of a thousand year old elf who is more tempermental than a dwarf."

Sparrow sat for a brief moment, his mind sifting through her words to decipher their entire meaning. But it was only a moment before he hopped up, slinging his bow onto his back and quickly packing up the few things he owned. He had everything packed in a small dark brown leather satchel that he hung around his neck.

Smiling at Athelya, Sparrow chuckled,"Well, since you haven't yet attempted to butcher me, I think I'm gonna go with you," he said with a soft chuckle before coming to stand next to her. Placing his hands on his hips, he sighed softly and looked at the forest around them. His eyes were tense with worry about the things she had said to him, and Sparrow didn't doubt the truth to her words.

Athelya seemed to have a good understanding about the state of things and what exactly was going on, which was good for Sparrow because he didn't have a damn clue what was going on for the most part. He had understood some Tevinter psycho had tried to throw open the doors to something called the Black City, but Sparrow didn't know what that was. It didn't sound good though, so Sparrow doubted it was.

"Well, if shit's gonna hit the fan I might as well try and help you stop it. It's better than sitting here and waiting for the shit to kill me," he said and looked at her with a smile.

The elvhen maid smiled at the human 'sparrow', though there was a twinge of remorse to it. "I do believe the Dread Wolf or Abelas would take issue with being referred to as 'shit'." She noted with a dry chuckle, amused at the thought of those ancient elves being called such to their faces. Her teacher, Solas, would be furious and scornful towards the offender. While Abelas... Athelya paused in mid-step as she considered that. For as much as she worked with the ancient defender of Mythal's temple- former defender, she corrected herself-, Abelas was a tough man to read. Even more than the Dread Wolf himself. Most likely Sparrow would be sprouting a few arrows at the least.

Stroking the orb at her hip, the woman wandered through the forest with long strides and the grace that belied her ancient blood. "There would be no point in butchering you, it would reflect badly on the future I am trying to create." She noted with a frown as the birds chirped and fluttered about high ahead in the green canopy. Their songs were so plain, yet they echoed the songs that were spun my minstrels and bards and the ancient music that swam through the fade. Beautiful melodies that made her weep to hear them and scream in rage at their call to battle. Inspiration and passion ran rampant in the Fade and the realm of mages and elves was a place of beauty as evident of the Crossroads.

Giving Sparrow a speculative look, the elvhen maid considered what exactly he knew of the going ons in the world. The war so many years ago that had resulted in her conception and birth. The green magic flickered about her hand as she felt the orb stir. Power slipping through her fingers to caress the Veil like a lover. "What do you know of the war that form the Inquisition? Of Fen'Harel and the elvhen movement that has been growing over the past two decades or so." Athelya noted with raised brow at Sparrow, her lips quirked in an amused expression. Looking ever so much like her mother, when she was feeling ahead of something. "Of elvhen culture and our 'supposed' gods?" Her voice was filled with sarcasm as she mentioned the false Gods that had been mere elves. "The Evanuris." The word was a scorned curse.