Filth and despair were heavy in the air of the alienage, ropy strands of bitter apathy that hung like cobwebs from the people and buildings, wrapping everything in the muffled solitude of surrender. Cormac hated the alienage, had always avoided this part of Denerim whenever possible. He hated the hollow eyes, the bony children scrabbling like rats in the streets, the sallow skin of malnutritioned babies that couldn't summon the energy to cry as they huddled limply in their mother's listless arms. Life was cheap here, and death even cheaper.
He watched as the packs of children swarmed in ever-closing circles, swirling like a murder of crows around their large group. Hungry eyes flicked from him to Ordhan, taking in the polished armor, and he could almost hear the thoughts of these children. Guard? Not guard? He pinned one ragged boy with a flat glare, a hand on the hilt of his sword as Shartan padded up beside him, the dog's brown eyes watching the skittering children warily. Anger and disgust rose in him again as the child melted back into the crowds that jostled through the crowded streets at Lalin's sharp cry, leaving behind only the ripe stench of starvation and misery. The whole situation rankled him, chasing the shadows of some slavers on a whim and a rumor. What had happened to their mission? What had happened to getting to the forest? But Cormac knew it wasn't really the inattention to their plans that bothered him. It was this place, and the frustrated anger that came from knowing there wasn't a Maker-damned thing one could do to relieve the misery around him.
Welcome to the alienage Falina, he thought sardonically. Almost feels like home, doesn't it?
He barely noticed when Lalin convened her little meeting, calling a few of the group apart to discuss something. Her exclusion of Falina rankled him a bit, noticing that she was the only Grey Warden Lalin had not summoned, but he was too busy keeping a firm lid on his bubbling frustration to pay it much heed. Not until he saw Falina threading through the group, her eyes distant and unfocused when she reached his side. Her face was tight, her mouth held carefully and he'd seen that look too many times before not to know that something was bothering her. Her voice was thick and just a half-step higher than normal when she muttered her plans as she brushed past, and he drew his brows together in confusion.
"Lina," he growled out as she spun away, one hand raised to stop her but her agile steps had carried her far beyond his voice and reach. He wavered slightly, glancing between the group and her receding back. Had something happened? His first instince was to follow her, but she had seemed intent on being alone, and the alienage was so much like how he imagined Dust Town to be that he had trouble believing she couldn't handle herself here. He compromised, letting himself drift towards the back of the group, keeping her small form in view as best as he could. At his side, Shartan had her fixed in his view as well, and Cormac toyed with the idea of sending the Mabari after her.
Instead he settled back, narrowed eyes keeping the gates in his view for any signs of a scuffle or trouble, and kept the rest of his attention on the group around him. He was unbalanced here, his temper fraying at the edges as he chafed against their purpose and mission. The sooner they left this cesspit of misery the happier he would be.