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When the world turns over and the sky weeps for all its losses / only those most lonesome souls are called to gather the pieces.
Sair'ghileth'an Lavellan never intended to become leader of these men, in the snow-dappled mountaintops that threaded cold fingers through the dancing clouds.
She was born to rivers and plains, and stalks of wheat brushed with one hand on the long walk of the irassal'len, her people spread far but their hearts always at hand.
This new purpose dragged her, marked, from the heavens and from that world; the Inquisition's call would be answered, no matter the threads it would tear from the fabric of her heart—for better or for worse.
Some wounds never mend, and some bonds never break.
DA: Inquisition retelling from the eyes of a woman carrying burdens beyond her stature; loss and love and loss again, abridged.
Bookmarked by total_loser_dot_com
16 Apr 2025