Morrigan glowered at the potions she was making, concentrating on the concoctions as she attempted to incorporate some of the concepts Mother had sought to teach her at some point or another. Magic could be used to boost the strength of various healing ingredients - at least beyond their own natural properties and the way they harmonized. It was bringing those things to the foreground that were important. She was no healer, those arts hadn't ever been important. And since they had no actual healer, that left her to try and keep everyone alive long enough until they could stop to rest. During a fight there was barely time to down or smear something onto a wound to keep upright, and Morrigan was left to question just how they were supposed to find and kill this Archdemon that Mother had been on about.
And if the Wardens didn't live, then there would be no way to recover or save the Old God's soul.
She didn't believe Mother planned on doing anything particularly beneficial to the resulting babe, but she couldn't be sure of what. Perhaps there was some other ritual that would allow Flemeth to absorb the power from the soul without harming the resulting child. Not that Morrigan cared. Children were messy things, snot nosed, cried and made messes. It would be bad enough having to carry one for however long. But she planned on finding out how to claim the soul for herself rather than let her mad mother take it. Old witch was powerful enough as it was.
She didn’t trust any of them, Mother included, farther than she could throw them with just the strength of her arms.
That sheep minded Chantry Sister interrupted her work, a large sack of ingredients, a cutting board and a knife in hand as she sat down in a boneless heap. "Morrigan, can I help? Us girls need to stick together." She giggled, that sharp sound that made Morrigan wince with disgust, glad she wasn't an elf at least, that single-minded, sex focused elf always had his ears twitching and curling in whenever the Orlesian giggled like that. "There's far too many men in camp."
Asking with false sweetness, "Did they tire of hearing about shoes?"
Giant saucer sized blue eyes blinked a few times, the overly plump lips puckering, lending the woman an almost vacant look. Stupid men would no doubt find such an expression pleasant; they all tended to dislike when women were as intelligent as them, so the more easily taken advantage of always were more attractive. “And what’s wrong with shoes? If we weren’t on the road, we could have such nice shoes...instead of these ugly things. Oh - and we could have dresses, such lovely dresses!” Clapping her hands together once and bouncing up in place, her excitement nigh overwhelming, “Why I know just the fashion that would be absolutely decadent on you! You really should let me do something with your hair, Morrigan, it’s so beautiful, you could do something with it, even if we can’t have nice dresses and shoes...”
Waspishly, “Keep your hands to yourself, sheep. I’ve no interest in doing anything like that at all! There’s nothing wrong with my shoes, hair, or clothing!”
Clasped hands tucked beneath her chin, and Leliana made a face that put Morrigan in mind of a begging kitten - as though such tricks would work upon her, “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant, that, well...you’re very beautiful Morrigan, and it’s always nice to have something to bring out just how beautiful you are. It makes you feel good...”
“No,” lips thinning. “‘Tis a wonder you’ve a single thought in your head beyond such frippery that allowed you to become a passable ranger. Enough, be on your way, I’m through listening to your senseless prattle, bother someone else, I’ve no patience to listen to you when there’s medicines to make.”
Re: Leliana/Morrigan: The Wasp and the Kitten 1/?
And if the Wardens didn't live, then there would be no way to recover or save the Old God's soul.
She didn't believe Mother planned on doing anything particularly beneficial to the resulting babe, but she couldn't be sure of what. Perhaps there was some other ritual that would allow Flemeth to absorb the power from the soul without harming the resulting child. Not that Morrigan cared. Children were messy things, snot nosed, cried and made messes. It would be bad enough having to carry one for however long. But she planned on finding out how to claim the soul for herself rather than let her mad mother take it. Old witch was powerful enough as it was.
She didn’t trust any of them, Mother included, farther than she could throw them with just the strength of her arms.
That sheep minded Chantry Sister interrupted her work, a large sack of ingredients, a cutting board and a knife in hand as she sat down in a boneless heap. "Morrigan, can I help? Us girls need to stick together." She giggled, that sharp sound that made Morrigan wince with disgust, glad she wasn't an elf at least, that single-minded, sex focused elf always had his ears twitching and curling in whenever the Orlesian giggled like that. "There's far too many men in camp."
Asking with false sweetness, "Did they tire of hearing about shoes?"
Giant saucer sized blue eyes blinked a few times, the overly plump lips puckering, lending the woman an almost vacant look. Stupid men would no doubt find such an expression pleasant; they all tended to dislike when women were as intelligent as them, so the more easily taken advantage of always were more attractive. “And what’s wrong with shoes? If we weren’t on the road, we could have such nice shoes...instead of these ugly things. Oh - and we could have dresses, such lovely dresses!” Clapping her hands together once and bouncing up in place, her excitement nigh overwhelming, “Why I know just the fashion that would be absolutely decadent on you! You really should let me do something with your hair, Morrigan, it’s so beautiful, you could do something with it, even if we can’t have nice dresses and shoes...”
Waspishly, “Keep your hands to yourself, sheep. I’ve no interest in doing anything like that at all! There’s nothing wrong with my shoes, hair, or clothing!”
Clasped hands tucked beneath her chin, and Leliana made a face that put Morrigan in mind of a begging kitten - as though such tricks would work upon her, “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant, that, well...you’re very beautiful Morrigan, and it’s always nice to have something to bring out just how beautiful you are. It makes you feel good...”
“No,” lips thinning. “‘Tis a wonder you’ve a single thought in your head beyond such frippery that allowed you to become a passable ranger. Enough, be on your way, I’m through listening to your senseless prattle, bother someone else, I’ve no patience to listen to you when there’s medicines to make.”