bethen avilla ; the circle mage (bethe) wrote in thedas,
All of Bethen's muscles were taut with anxiety; her grip on her staff had become so tight that she could feel the grains of the wood begin to imprint on her soft palms. She was beginning to have cotton mouth as the seconds between responses dragged on. The air felt thickened by more than just the steamy air of a summer's night in the swamp. There was so much tension in such a small space, and so much powerful magic being restrained by both women. She could tell that this mage -- this apparent Witch of the Wilds, even though she couldn't possibly the same woman once aligned with the Wardens fifteen years ago -- was strong in her abilities, with or without having ever set foot in her own lofty tower.
Bethen said nothing while the stranger spoke with hostility; admittedly, she was probably right in that her group was trespassing. But most other Fereledans wouldn't see it that way, since the people who lived in the region were hardly considered civilized enough to lay proper claim of ownership to them. Still, Beth was nothing short of sympathetic and open-minded to seeing the world through another's eyes. Maybe they were the ones in the wrong here, but there was no other way to reach their destination and their goal. What she and her companions were prepared to do was save these strange swamp people, and the rest of the nation, from further ruin and desiccation by their common enemy.
Saying so probably would have cleared up a great deal of mess, yet Beth was still hesitant to reveal anything to this woman. Especially not when she couldn't tell whether or not she was truly friend or foe, or even really the next daughter or sister to the Swamp Witch of legends. From what she'd read in the Amaranthine archives, according to the present Warden-Commander, Morrigan had never really proven to be a solid ally. She had her own agenda from the start, though what that was precisely had never been revealed.
It certainly didn't help matters that the mage was making an effort to appear menacing. She had used the pronoun 'we', though in a quick sweep of the grounds behind her, Beth couldn't see any motion or indication that the camp truly had more than one occupant. Was she bluffing? Not that it mattered -- the Warden had never been good at discerning truth from lies. For all she knew, the rest of her party was already being surrounded by more of these wilders. That thought caused her to seize up once more, falter in her stolid stare to glance behind her. It was stupid to turn her gaze away from the woman for even a second, but she couldn't help worrying that her friends were in danger. She turned only momentarily, but was met with more darkness and a tangled net of leaves and branches that concealed her view of the path taken this way. Trying to see what was going on was futile. She was stuck here in this self-made trap.
If she had any sort of ill-temper and impatience for threats, perhaps Bethen would have lashed out with it now and tried to fight her way out and back to her people. If not to rescue them, then at least send sort of warning. But she was a diplomat, and because her present situation had not yet escalated to violence, she was willing to try to negotiate through it as best as she could without revealing too much. Their plans were not meant for the ears of just anyone; only the people they trusted most, had thought useful to their cause, knew precisely what their plans were. Bethen wasn't going to lie to her, but she wasn't going to tell her everything, nor was she going to let the Witch think she had dominance over the conversation.
Trying to stay calm, she spoke clearly and evenly, "I haven't come to do anything but gather firewood. I mean you, and your people, no harm. The rest of our business is our own. But if you do not allow me to pass in peace, I assure you that my people will not hesitate to strike back, and swiftly, in retaliation."