The adrenaline had abandoned her at some point, leaving her both tired, and very aware of how much further they had to walk once this was over. The firelight was inviting, and tapped into some deep primal recognition that it was late, and that there was comfort so close by. Falina tried to push it away, and remember the situation at hand.
As her eyes flickered over the corpses, she felt that odd detatchment again. It wasn't like the elf boy that she had looted, but eerily similar to the corpses at the Joining. She didn't know who these people had been, and would never know them. She knew only discarded names, and it felt odd that the justice for their deaths fall on the shoulders of strangers.
Falina looked up at Cormac, trying to gauge how he was handling the situation. He was quiet though, once again deferring judgement to those he considered superiors. She felt a flare of frustration; while it was his way, she needed him and needed his guidance. Even if it was a single 'yes' or 'no', or some facial twist of disgust.
She listened carefully as all of the conversation and discussion swirled around her, taking stock of what her companions said, trying to assess what they felt. It was hard though- she didn't know the majority of them, and their moods were unfamiliar and their opinions new. In the dark, she couldn't account for nuances of their faces, or for the momentary ticks of behavior.
Dolain's flight had taken her by wide-eyed surprise. Was he coming back? Should someone go check on him? He'd just run off unarmed, surely he was coming back. Right?
Dwarves were tempermental, prone to volatile bursts of mood and flight. Perhaps Dolain was merely blowing off steam. She didn't know him well enough to go check on him herself, and if Lalin (who had presented him arm-in-arm at the Keep) didn't, then it was certainly not her place.
Lalin instead, stepped forward to take charge again, investing her faith in the fat merchant. And Falina in turn was willing to do the same, though it seemed to solve little. There was still the question of 'what to do', now that 'who to believe' had been answered. It was a trial in patience, and she was floundering with impotence.
Hissra spoke up, and Falina did believe that if she were to close her eyes and throw a stone, it would surely hit someone with some fault in the matter. And then Conlan, who she found herself both agreeing and disagreeing with. In Orzammar they would have been stripped of rank, or resigned to death by exile. But there was no real exile available on the surface. This girl would wander until she found a city and then would simply start a new life. It was a far cry from wandering in the Deep Roads until she met her end by her body failing, or at the hands of some monster.
This 'court' thing kept rearing it's head, and while she knew little about it, Conlan's disdain indicated that Ordhan believed in it. That irked her in a way that was hard to describe. Ordhan was a new friend, but she felt protective of him, just as she would Cormac.
"We're going to Denerim, and who says we have to stay for the duration of the trial?" It seemed unreasonable that Conlan would think they would be wrapped up in trial, but then she knew little about them. Maybe she was wrong, but she was standing up for Ordhan. "While it's not our call to make, we did stop- and we listened, and now it's sort of our responsibility to see this into the hands of those who are authorities. Hissra's right."
She wriggled her fingers in the leather gloves, still uncomfortable wearing armor. "This... it's not our call, but there is no reason to turn our backs when the city is right over the treeline. The city is twenty minutes away, and is right on our path. Surely there is some guard at the entrance, and then our responsibility is over."