[ Rather than say the other things crawling off the end of her tongue, Nel turns her withdrawn gaze to the dawn after the path she and Solas have gone down introduces them to a secluded trellis and garden; some plants she recognizes for their poisonous properties, but her eyes are on the light, that inexorable, inevitable beginning.
She isn't cognizant of the time between then and resting on a bench of marble, lengthy enough for a partner to join without their sides touching. The look on her face is empty of anything describable. Some spell cast by the newborn sun demands that she be truthful. ]
Traditions are entrenched and backed by resentment, misinformation. It's in the history we're taught.
no subject
[ Rather than say the other things crawling off the end of her tongue, Nel turns her withdrawn gaze to the dawn after the path she and Solas have gone down introduces them to a secluded trellis and garden; some plants she recognizes for their poisonous properties, but her eyes are on the light, that inexorable, inevitable beginning.
She isn't cognizant of the time between then and resting on a bench of marble, lengthy enough for a partner to join without their sides touching. The look on her face is empty of anything describable. Some spell cast by the newborn sun demands that she be truthful. ]
Traditions are entrenched and backed by resentment, misinformation. It's in the history we're taught.