sending crystal

[arcaneadvisor]

FORM: Crystal
SENDER: Morrigan
RECIPIENT: All
WHAT: Hey s'up we found Mythal
WHEN: This month at some point (I don't want to leave out the kidnapped folks)
WHERE: Kirkwall; Morrigan is out by Sundermount if you feel like pestering her in person
NOTES: Report linking all important previous parts

As some of you are aware, I have spent some considerable time and effort in search of my mother, her whereabouts, what she might be doing. There are those of you who have joined me in this.

My mother has been found. And I have discovered the truth of the legends at long last: no demon, no spirit, but Mythal.

[Not easily said, the most uncomfortable Morrigan had ever sounded over the sending crystal and the pause is as much for her to collect herself as it is for the news to sink in.]

All evidence on my search - the report sits with Elven Artifacts have you a wish to read it - pointed to something old. And she has confirmed it. Myself and those with me when we found her at the Altar of Mythal had no reason to doubt her.

Have you questions, I will answer them. Mind your tongues. She took my son to bring me to her.

Comments

[gottakeeponejumpahead]

I - no - I just ... I.

[He is quiet for a moment.]

... I thought Mythal was a god. Is she - is she something else?

[arcaneadvisor]

She is whatever she is, I have found such in my search for her that has given me reason to doubt what a god is.

[Not that she's getting into it with this boy who speaks in fragments.]

One person might call a thing something, that hardly makes it true or fact.

[gottakeeponejumpahead]

[Well that was an entirely different kettle of fish, now wasn't it. Adasse's mind finally caught up with his tongue, before he finally spoke.]

Then what are the facts of what Mythal is, precisely? [Because he needs to know if Sorrel will need to have his heart protected, along with many of his Dalish friends. Not to mention what this would do to the alienage ...] I'm an elf. From the Kirkwall alienage. If what we know is not true, I would like to know the truth of it.

[arcaneadvisor]

One of the Creators was found for that is what the Dalish call Mythal, however some months ago I asked the Inquisition two questions: What do you believe gods are Inquisition? Do you indeed believe that there are gods? And no, at this time I do not care to hear your answers to them. My mother was a mortal woman once, and now she has some fragment of whatever Mythal is and was.

[Or: she has no reason to tell him everything. There's a report written that others can avail themselves of, but when does she ever give people the whole of it? She's told them the important parts.]

Mythal was here, at Sundermount not long after the Champion arrived. And here at that site again to take my son. She has never looked to any of you. Has answered not one prayer.

[Morrigan isn't saying this to be cruel, she's saying it to make it plain: cast it aside, or believe your tales. She grew up knowing the truth of a legend as so many others would repeat the falsehood of her mother's own story. All she can do is lay out the bones, what is done with them, buried or made into soup to be taken into oneself is entirely up to whoever listens.]

[gottakeeponejumpahead]

[Adasse is silent for a long, long time. Perhaps long enough for Morrigan to think that she is rid of the pest. So the Ancient Ones existed, and they just didn't give a damn. Well, wasn't that elven history all over?

Finally, he spoke.] Is your son all right?

[Let's just put aside elven history being turned on it's ear for a moment.]

[arcaneadvisor]

[Stranger that he is, Morrigan owes fewer answers again to someone who likely as not couldn't pick her son out of a crowd.]

Unharmed. Alive.

[A gulf between those words. Between all else that occurred, that changed.]

[gottakeeponejumpahead]

[Hey, she put it out there. She showed them compassion by telling them the truth. He showed compassion by asking what was really important to her in that situation -- her child.]

Good. Well.

[Another moment of silence.]

Thanks.

[And the stranger she didn't want to speak to, was gone.]