It was the tear that captured her attention, the single trace of moisture falling free and catching light before bursting somewhere at their feet. Deidre's fingers dug into her back pocket to produce a neat, folded square of fabric -- just one from her collection of bandannas that she had accumulated over her travels. She offered it to her companion, so she could dry her eyes and sniffle into it should she choose. Her expression, however, remained gentle; delicate fae-lines softened over a face touched by a certain degree of exoticism that hinted at something other than a Fereldan heritage. There was no trace of pity, however -- the idea of doing so hadn't crossed her mind, especially since Bethen had clearly grown to accept her state of being. Still, it ached to hear of what she had endured as a child; their experiences weren't the same at all, but to say that she didn't understand what it was like to be alone and made to feel worthless would be a falsity. Her early childhood at the orphanage, or what she could remember of it, was fraught with beatings that society considered acceptable in the taming of stubborn children with no home to call their own, smattered with bouts of rebellion only an unwanted tot could inflict upon her betters. She had known days where she despised those who were meant to care for her but had not bothered to (in her opinion) do it correctly, the hours in which she cursed the ether for making her parents disappear -- whoever they are -- a stain in otherwise colorful memories.
She had no intention of sharing any of that, however; not out of an unwillingness to do so, she learned at an early age she could talk about anything, no matter how painful. The agitation and sadness on her companion's face simply did not make her eager to do it. She had no desire to make Bethen more uncomfortable, especially with the way she typically acted whenever she gave someone a glimpse of that aspect of her life; she shrugged at those years as if they were nothing simply because her sense of pride and self-worth wouldn't allow her to react otherwise. In many ways, in spite of her reverence for the truth, it was her bluster and bravado that came first when it came to the darker places she kept close to her chest.
"I hope it changes," Deidre said. "I believe the world and our relations with one another can always stand to be better. If I told you that the continent would just up and welcome you with open arms, I would be lying. At the same time, I know that there will still be some out there that would be able to relate and understand. Not just other mages, but elves, dwarves...regular folks. No set of experiences will be the exact same, but there's always a common thread to be found, and even if there's not in a given situation, I'm certain that there's always someone willing to listen, if you're willing to talk. I'm relieved, however, that you don't feel that way about yourself anymore, even though you used to... from my own experience, it's a deep hole to find your way out of. Self-loathing, I mean."
She chewed faintly on her bottom lip. "I'm not saying it'll ever go away, or that one day you'll forget it...but I think, now that you're out living a life that's vastly different from the one you've had before, it might get easier, bit by bit."
When the subject shifted to Aurin, she nodded once, Bethen's extrapolation of her current dealings with their mutual friend taking up most of her attention. The corners of her mouth lifted in the sllightest of smiles as the sorceress recounted her last talk with him, relieved that there was someone else who cared about the wayward templar aside from herself and Alderic. If she ever suspected there was something more between the minimalistic description of the other woman's regard for Aurin, it didn't manifest anywhere, content to accept it without rebutting the statements otherwise. It wasn't as if she didn't see the mage's concerns -- she most certainly did, having lived with, interacted with, and occasionally cared for templars almost all of her life. It was never an easy thing to be close to one, to care for one and hold one in the highest regard and affection, especially when the lyrium dreams became more vivid and regular....