bethen avilla ; the circle mage (bethe) wrote in thedas,
For the second time in the past few days, Bethen felt incredibly grateful for the Wardens in her party. Alderic had long been considered a good friend, but his offer to keep her company and his encouragement in her endeavor reaffirmed her fondness for him. Even in personal matters, she had his support, and that she'd ever doubted it was foolish. "I'd like that," she accepted, bashfully at first, until she registered the joke. The mage laughed softly, "Well, not the bit about stepping on my toes. Your sabatons are a lot sturdier than my poor shoes. They wouldn't stand a chance." She peered downwards, and tapped her leather-bound feet against each other to further her point.
The moment of levity was far too brief. She still had to overcome her anxiety and actually meet with the woman who had condemned her to a life in captivity -- or at least her replacement, which wasn't necessarily better. Sobriety supplanted her smile; Bethen put on a properly solemn expression to face the Chantry's leader before taking the long, slow stride forward into the smaller chamber.
At the back of the room sat an older woman, though not nearly as aged as the Revered Mother of her youth would have been at present. She was clearly a different person, but upon looking up at her guests, Bethen found her face to be startlingly familiar. She didn't even realize she'd held her breath until she released it at the sound of the cleric's voice. It had been aged with years of weary and hardship, but Beth was certain she knew this woman, once upon a time.
"Greetings, miss, and to you, brother," acknowledged her Reverence, bowing her head at both of them. In spite of being a great ball of white fur, she didn't seem to notice the wolf at first, though once she did, she seemed surprisingly nonplussed rather than convulsively upset. Perhaps she just thought him a strange dog; regardless, she said nothing of his presence, immediately looking back at the man and woman with a gracious smile. "Can I assist you? Or will you be making a donation to the chantry today?" The latter inquiry seemed particularly directed toward Bethen, though she kept her steady gaze on both of them.
Beth hadn't expected the request for a tithe at all, even though something told her she should have. She instinctively placed her hand on her coin purse, which contained only enough for their important purchases. "I...er..." stuttered Beth, already caught off guard and distracted from the question she had been waiting to ask for fifteen years. She turned her head to Alderic, a silent plea for help.