Cormac had asked for space, and Falina had smiled and granted it, unwilling to strain their new friendship. He'd been quiet on the road, almost irritated when the Warden-Commander announced they'd be stopping in Redcliffe. He wasn't forthcoming with reasons, and Falina hadn't expected him to be. She liked that about him, his life was his own, and he included her when he could.
Redcliffe was supposed to be her new home, and it would have been, had they not met the Wardens. She examined it by herself, taking in the red clay, the cliffside, and the lake, wondering exactly why Cormac had pictured her here. It probably lay in his familiarity with the village, but something tugged at her, and she knew he'd been right.
She tried to imagine this village under the circumstances of his story, torn apart by walking dead and darkspawn raiding parties.
It was difficult to envision, it seemed strangely idyllic, and Falina felt a brief pang. She'd probably never get to live here... perhaps if it didn't work out with the Wardens, she'd come back...
The ground wasn't as hard here, the air was fresher, and she liked the water. Liked the way that the light reflected from the crisp blue, and how no one seemed in a hurry.
The dock looked... shoddy. Wood and nails? Supporting rows of houses? Dwarven craftsmen ship had not been at work here.
She shifted her weight experimentally, gazing at the old water stained planks and groaned. She was confident that it would support her weight, and continued on her expedition, inching closer to the water.
Imenry sat, feet hanging over the dock, and Falina cautiously stood behind her. It was a long trip, full of many, many people, each one louder than the next. Perhaps she wanted to be alone?