...all my flowers are dead

Devera remembered being a dragon, wreaking havoc in the Brecilian. And then... she had arms and legs and she was no longer a dragon. It had been extremely disorienting, and she had had to take time to learn how to be a human. The Venatori that had helped her had taught her much, but that did not mean she was perfect. After all, she'd only been human for a month before they sent her back to Amaranthine. Now she was here... and it was weird. 

She couldn't settle, knowing she was around people who were a threat to her. But she had her purpose — to ensure the darkspawn and the Blight wreaked as much havoc as was possible. Though for the time being, the Blight wasn't an issue. The Venatori had suggested that she go into hiding for a while, lull the wardens into a false sense of security while she lived amongst them. Got to know them. Made them her friend. 

Humans. 

Friendships.

Devera rolled her eyes as she resumed reading, she was learning about plants. Inconspicuous enough, right?

With spring tentative on the horizon and tepid kisses of wind twining throughout the last determined bite of winter, Ragnar seized the opportunity. As it turned out, Boreas was as eager to stretch his wings as Ragnar was to escape the duties if only for the duration of his flight. In no way did he resent his title, but there was always a need for reprieve. So with word to a bare minimum of essential persons, the warden-constable of Ferelden took the sky.  A sharp clip of his beak from the griffon as they broke through clouds flying near vertical to the heavens until Boreas free feel several hundred feet and caught a strong updraft. Ragnar did his best to ignore the way his stomach leapt into his throat at the aerial dance. No matter how prone the creature was to death-defying stunts, there was little in way of preparation Ragnar could take save for a tighter grip on the reigns and dig his thighs rather mercilessly into the sides of the saddle. If it bothered him, Boreas didn't let it show and instead appeared rather smug in his theatrics. 

Hours passed and when they sun crested at it's zenith, griffon and rider were coasting down towards the ground, aiming for a clearing in the forest for some rest before their return to Soldier's Peak. Within minutes, Ragnar had dismounted and rummaging in saddle bags. Soon he produced a parchment wrapped filet of raw mutton he then chucked artfully towards the imposing creature. Boreas clucked excitedly. Soon after with an apple he shinned on his tunic, he looked towards the edge of the clearing, sussing out his surroundings as he'd become so accustomed to doing. Living through a blight or two tended to do that to a person. 

But it wasn't a darkspawn he spotted near one of the groups of flora, but a woman with a curtain of inky black hair bent over a book. Closer inspection as he neared offered him more insight. He recognized that face, newly acquainted as it was. He'd made it a point to know all of the wardens under his command if only by face. But her. Well, he hadn't forgotten a detail. 

Warden Eluvia he said as casually as his nerves allowed.

Humans, they all looked alike to her. Sure some had pointy ears and some were small, it wasn't like she couldn't see that there were differences, but as a dragon it had all looked the same to her. Fodder, food, beings of no consequence. Now one was speaking to her, and she had to pretend to look mildly interested, like she actually cared what the human had to say, the words that flowed out of his lips.

Warden Caius. She said in return, she mimicked his words simply because she wasn't sure what else to say in return. He hadn't asked a question, he'd simply spoken her name, was it supposed to have some hidden meaning. She was still getting used to a lot of the nuances of conversation, like how people were so obsessed with asking everyone how they were doing simply out of some act of politeness

It felt like the world stopped around him. Like every insect, every leaf, every bird was stilled in this moment. The moment he allowed himself to truly admire her from his vantage above her, it all went quiet. And what an alluring vantage it was. He was staring. He knew he was staring and yet....there was something ethereal about her that glitched his good sense in its tracks. He realized himself quickly however, and did his best to play it off. It didn't do for a Warden of his standing to be gawking. His subordinates looked to him for guidance. He cleared his throat, stepping off to the side a tad to lean against a nearby tree. 

When he'd folded his arms across his chest and kicked his legs out to balance, he focused again on the sight before him. You know, there are plenty of places to read in the keep, I assure you. he offered her a clipped yet sheepish sort of smile then. Unless you've decided you can't stand us anymore, in which case I'll leave you to it. But he had little intentions on leaving unless she explicitly asked him to. All of this in his poor attempt at conversation. There was a reason he was a soldier, not a politician.

Devera tilted her head, taking a moment to decide how to respond. She didn't have the intuition that most people were born with. After a long pause, Why wouldn't I be able to stand you, anymore? It was a strange question, and she was so interested in the answer that she closed her book.

I just thought I might see some of the plants from my book out here. But I'm really bad at figuring out which ones are which. Some of the plants had similarities, and very minor differences. She'd been walking around until she gave up, and decided to just read. Ragnar's awkwardness, and the way he'd been staring, were things she was not oblivious to but chose to ignore. Nobody ever brought up how awkward she could be, after all.

His comment had been so banal that it took him a moment to realize what she was asking. He supposed he'd meant for it to be a quirky icebreaker of sorts to get her to laugh or smile at the very least. Some tended to find that charming or so he'd been told. His brow furrowed in confusion as he attempted to backtrack and navigate this conversation from a different angle. Don't worry about it, it was a joke. I meant nothing by it. he said with a slope in his tone, waving a hand in dismissal. It was discouraging, but Ragnar was nothing but persistent in the things he wanted. And right now he wanted to know soldier better. 

That was his story and he was sticking to it. 

Do you want some help? While he wasn't entirely well versed in flora and fauna, he did know a thing or two about healing and tracking and thus could get by should he need to survive in the wild. Looking for anything in particular?

Devera furrowed her brow, as he proclaimed that it was just a joke, and not to worry. Some part of her wanted to argue that he was dismissing her. But the woman nodded, distracted from that brief feeling of having her question dismissed, by his offer to help her.

She held the book open, This one. A poisonous fern with a purple seed. It was toxic. Deadly. It might be good to extract the poisons and use them on the tips of our weapons. She explained, adjusting where she sat to hold the book out, and invite him to seat himself next to her.

I think it'd work well on darkspawn. She explained. She knew it would; she'd tested it before finding a book with the information she wanted to read.

He narrowed his eyes in obedient focus. Poisons weren't something he new intimately though antidotes he knew marginally better. Often they went hand in hand so it behooved him to know the best counters to the most widely used poisons.  He did in fact recognize this one. It was incredibly toxic and should only he handled by someone who knew precisely what they were doing. Though from the sound of it, she was just that she just needed to be pointed in the right direction. Aye. There's a grove just over the ridge that is flooded with 'em He smiled. It was a noble pursuit and he would admit he'd never seen that particular poison in action against darkspawn to his knowledge. 

You know, there's only one way to test that theory of yours. His expression turned mischievous. Might as well make ourselves useful while we experiment. Promise of unhinged violence against darkspawn tended to make a usually reticent Constable, rather giddy.

Devera raised her eyebrows, brightening as he stated there was a grove just nearby. That made things easier, didn't it? She needed to earn trust, fit in. This was a step towards that.

Ooh. Shall we? She inquired, bouncing in place as she closed the book and held it to her chest. I'll gather the flowers and process them. It won't take too long. She promised, and this was true thanks to her magic.

He nodded, doing his level best not to leer at the way she bounced in place. Was that at all necessary or did she just exist to torment him at this point? Looking across the clearing, he caught the griffon's eye and shared a look both understood in the span of seconds. Boreas could well handle himself and there was no sense in moving him from a perfectly good smattering of elfroot he seemed quite emphatic about at the moment. 

All of this to forget the Maker-blasted bouncing he saw now even when he averted his gaze. His smile didn't meet his eyes but it was still conciliatory as he started off in the direction of the grove, easing up just slightly for her to keep pace. The closer we get to that ridge, you should stay alert. Hurlocks seem keen on it. He pointed to the very ridge to which they head. Her theory was indeed an intriguing one, so he deemed it worth the risk. 

And it had nothing to do with the bouncing. Nothing at all.

Hurlocks? She had no idea that darkspawn had names. She'd learned they were called darkspawn, but that was it. It was a strange thing for a warden not to know but then...

The big ones? She pointed as they wandered towards the ridge, she could see some of the larger ones in the trees edges.

His brow arched when she questioned him. Maybe the names they gave their enemies to tell them apart weren't so widely known as they were in Ferelden. But that was as much as he would speculate of another warden with danger so close at hand. He nodded as he followed her line of sight towards the loitering hurlocks, their hulking forms unmistakable. Aye

At that he drew his sword from it's sheath silently and moved through the grass. It was possible for the time being for them to sneak over the ridge unspotted. No sooner had he taking a step in their direction, then he saw them alert to their presence. A warrior calm washed over him. Care to have some fun Warden? If they obtained the flower and it was possible to make the poison they needed for their blades, perhaps some experimentation was at hand.

Devera watched the hulking beast, a darkspawn that had no name to her, but to this man and the wardens it did have a name. Hurlock. She committed this to memory, grinning as he asked if she'd like to have some fun.

Well, they certainly have similar beliefs in what fun was. Yes. She stated, fire licking at her finger tips. She was much more skilled with other elements, but she didn't feel like display that. Nor did she wish to draw attention to herself from the constable.

She was just a normal grey warden.

Just a normal mage.

Yes, yes.

Normal.

--- RETCONNED ENDING: They have their fun. ---