You thought you caught my sleight of hand

[lifeisacatch]

The ground is snow-covered and the sky is overcast, but the old woman down by the lake shore appears ignorant of this fact. Or maybe she notices but just doesn't care. She is wearing neither cloak nor hat nor scarf, though her dirt-stained brown and cream robes are at least layered.

Heavily layered.

She may be humming tunelessly, keeping pace with a percussive beat only she can hear.

For now.

Comments

[lifeisacatch]

"Dull, she says."

Flemeth shakes her head, mouth pursing in amusement.

"As if there is no wonder left in all the world."

[freedom_is_grey]

"For me, certainly."

Her smile is quick, and bright, and false.

"But you -- what is there left to see for the Witch of the Wilds? Dead or no -- and you don't seem very dead -- you've already lived for centuries."

[lifeisacatch]

"Don't seem dead, she says. As if any dead do seem so, here of all places."

She does not go so far as to tsk, but she does let out a sharp bark of laughter again.

Just because.

"But no. I am indeed not dead, and not waiting for you to come to my home again, either. Though it may be best not to tell my Morrigan that. So fanciful, that girl."

[freedom_is_grey]

"That's . . . . not actually how I would have described her. Oddly."

Huh.

"But I'm not about to lie to her. And withholding the truth -- particularly about her own mother -- is definitely a lie."

Ysalwen makes no mention that she has seen neither hide nor hair of Morrigan for almost a year. Flemeth has no need to know that.

(Assuming she doesn't, already, and it's just another of the things they're dancing around.)

[lifeisacatch]

"Pfft. As if you have never bent the truth near to breaking before, Warden. And as if you wouldn't again, if the world were served by it."

Some things a temporary death doesn't change, and Flemeth's penetrating gaze is one of them.

[freedom_is_grey]

Ysalwen does not look away.

"Maybe. But I'd still do everything I could not to betray a friend. And Morrigan counts as one of my dearest."

Just so everyone here knows where they stand.

[lifeisacatch]

"Hah!"

Another sharp, barking laugh.

"Oh, she's done well by you, Warden. You'll dance to every tune she calls, smiling all the way. And here I never thought she would understand people enough for that."

[freedom_is_grey]

"You do have a way of underestimating her. Or maybe misestimating her is a more accurate term."

Every word Ysalwen speaks is enunciated precisely. Now, it seems, is not a time for misunderstandings. Or even a semblance of it.

"Leave her alone."

A pause, as if assessing whether it should remain a command or become . . . something else.

"Please. It's all she wants."

Or all that Ysalwen wants for her. (Or both.)

[lifeisacatch]

Now that might almost be a surprise.

Something in Flemeth's expression -- a tiny, infinitesimal thing -- softens.

"You do care for her. I wonder, did she expect that?"

Did Flemeth?

[freedom_is_grey]

"Did you?"

One of Ysalwen's eyebrows arches up.

"Because I'll give you this, the two of you are more alike than at least one of you wants to think."

[lifeisacatch]

"Oh ho ho, a piercing and penetrating observation, is it?"

Hilarious!

And not, as it happens, inaccurate, either.

"You've come far, Warden. I might almost count myself impressed."

[freedom_is_grey]

"Oh, please don't."

For so many reasons.

"I get enough of that almost everywhere else."

[lifeisacatch]

"Enough to know it when you see it, at the very least. Well, well, well."

Flemeth's smile is slow, and by the end of it very sharp, indeed.

"What a pleasant turn of events. A Hero whose sense of self remains resolutely un-puffed up with importance."

Abruptly that smile vanishes as if it had never been.

"See that it stays that way. You'll have need of such a grasp on reality in the times to come."

[freedom_is_grey]

"I plan to do my best. As ever."

Her own mouth twitches at one corner, but no hint of levity reaches her eyes.

"I'm well aware of what I could become if I let myself slip."

[lifeisacatch]

"Do you, indeed?" Flemeth muses, not quite to herself. "I wonder."

As do more people than the three in this conversation, rest assured.

"We'll see. Or you will."

[freedom_is_grey]

Right.

At least Liranan has stopped growling, though at Flemeth's last words he makes a whimper deep in the back of his throat, instead.

Ysalwen hushes him, voice gentle even as she scratches firmly between his ears.

"I hope to. I do try to keep my eyes open. And my mind."

Her mouth twists wryly.

"I have you to thank for that."

Without Flemeth's aid she and Alistair would have died -- and not only that, but she would never have met all the strange people she now counts as friends. It changed a great deal.

"Would you trust me not to poison your drink if I bought you one, perhaps? Call it a case of bygones, at least here?"

It seems presumptuous to suppose it might continue back in Thedas. But --

The offer is honestly meant.

[lifeisacatch]

"Now that is interesting."

There's a sharp edge to Flemeth's amusement, but when isn't there?

"One might almost think you unafraid, but we both know better, don't we, my girl? It adds spice, does it not?"

She laughs, low and long. Oh, it is too funny, all of this. And too interesting, as well.

"How is a poor, old, lonely woman to say no to such an offer? After you, my dear girl."

[freedom_is_grey]

"Of course. Flemeth."

Ysalwen turns her back on the Witch of the Wilds, bold as brass.

But Liranan, of course, will bring up the rear.

Just so Flemeth does not get any ideas.

[lifeisacatch]

Flemeth just laughs again, bracketed by the Warden and the mabari.

As if she would really have expected anything else.

No one here is a fool.

Perhaps it would be better should they be, but alas. Some things are impossible.