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The Inquisitor was leaning against the ledge of the parapet, the night sky illumination the fortress beneath. The moons were full, and the stars were bright, and this high up in the mountain range, everything was so crystal clear. He could have counted the stars, if he had the time… Maybe it was a good idea that he didn’t have the time, otherwise his OCD would have him counting stars until dawn.
He didn’t rightfully notice the heavy thuds of the other qunari’s footsteps as he made his way up the stairs. Only when a shadow made itself present, was he started from his gazing, looking over his shoulder and leaning his elbows back off the stone.
“Oh… Sataareth, if my memory serves me well, yes? Was there something you needed?” He’d only met the other man once, and it had been tripping over his feet. This was much preferred, even if (again) the qunari had caught him off guard.
In all actual facts, Sataareth was proud of his name; the way it rolled off the tongue, the deeper (or not so) meanings behind every single aspect.. His only wish was to find those in life who offered him the generous titles. Parts of him believed they defined him as a human being, guided his personality and its development in life - or maybe his parents saw aspects of him as a child. Whatever it was, his lengthy name, whilst a mouthful, was indeed important to him.
But indeed, Nazide was in Skyhold; both of the siblings had been there since haven. However, it was indeed not surprising that the inquisitor had not noted the Aqun-athlok’s positions within their ranks. Whilst the siblings were both of tall, strong statures and had been part of the Inquisitions movement for a long duration of time, Nazide was not the kind of Qunari who enjoyed making himself present. They in fact worked with Leliana, spending most of their days out on the field rather than spending their time within the walls of the fortress. Yet, any time which was free was spent with practicality, either gathering vital research to others cultures, or aiding in repairs down in those deep down hidden structures the glorious fort held.
Truly, Sataareth could have talked about his brother till the sun came up; there was so much to talk about, to admire! From their ambitious attitudes, work ethic.. The fact that even as a child, he was the stand alone reason he and the mage had survived for such a lengthy amount of time, alone, in the middle of a country one would not have expected two rogue Qunari to wander around without the company of an adult. But Nevertheless, hearing the Inquisitors voice fill with enthusiasm upon the matter of his home country; the pyromancer was truly relieved, in all matters a fact, as he was certain to have shushed and shoo’d away any moment - Not that he believed the Inquisitor the kind to indeed mute his audience! But.. By the Gods could Sataareth’s charisma be his downfall.
Yet the sudden change of confusion which painted itself upon the smaller’s face caused dark eyebrows to skew once more, head tilting to it’s side as he pondered where he may have stumbled up - but the sudden topic which left the fellow Qunari’s lips made lines connect. But despite that, though Sataareth was always willing to talk about his uprising, he knew such was rather.. unique in it’s circumstances. The Dalish WERE indeed quiet and secluded people, they did not like intruders or the company of those other than themselves; however, when one was presented with two helpless Qunari children - both at the ages of four and two, it appeared acceptions, whilst extremely rare, were made.
“Ah!~… it sounds odd, I am aware..” He mumbled, finally a stumble in his vocal patterns as he slowly held his arms forward; and whilst the night sky made it somewhat difficult to see, faint aspects of what appeared to be markings of Mythal between the cracks of his Vitaar. Granted, no, it was not the same as the blood writing that was used for vallaslin, (the mage believed such was sacred to their own,) but with permission of his keeper and much talk, eventually following the time of cleansing ones self in preparation and the consistent time of praying to his chosen Pantheon, there laid the markings which showed his commitment to the Goddess he desired to become a patron of. “But I… hmm… I apologise, you did not desire to know my life story, nor do I have much I can sure, hmm?~ I truly.. can only ever remember being surrounded by the elvhen which made camp upon Rivain! They… treated me like a son, you see? I did.. not have the privilege of being raised by other Qunari besides my brother, and neither did I ever learn the ways of the Qun.. I did however spend my years growing up learning to embrace what I am!~ We were not the same race, no~ But I… sometimes do not believe family has to be bloodline, Inquisitor. Pardon.. I-… It is an odd subject though I am proud of it, you see.. My pardons, if you may!~”
It most certainly did sound odd. Kaaras had lived in Ferelden, and he knew there were many clans within the forests. Perhaps the elves of the South got more flack then those up North? But he’d also heard tales of Antivan Dalish who were vicious and cruel. Humans had certainly made out most other species in Thedas to be savages–including his own.
In truth, the most contact he’d ever had with the Dalish was here and now–as Inquisitor. And those who he had come across were not savage. But that didn’t mean the stories he’d heard were not true. He knew of clans that hunted humans like livestock–as the humans hunted them in return. For them to take in a qunari child seemed… odd. And yet, had his family not done the same for his adopted sister? She had been Dalish, kicked from her clan. It was possible that some Dalish clans out there were willing to let outsiders in.
Kaaras knitted his brows for a moment. “I never said I wasn’t interested in hearing your story,” he stated firmly. Sataareth was putting words into his mouth, and ones that he’d never said. Maybe the man just didn’t wish to speak of himself, which was understandable–Kaaras was very much the same, and very private–but he’d never said he wasn’t interested.
“I am very interested in your upbringing, actually.” He turned his body to the man, leaning an elbow on the balcony ledge. “I enjoy learning other cultures, and yours is rather unique–as is mine.” He was a Vashoth with Par Vollen parents, born in Starkhaven and raised in Ferelden. His own upbringing was unique as well.
“I’m curious how you were raised with Dalish, and yet you learned Qunlat?” He’d said other words before in the language. “How many languages do you speak?”
In matters of facts that the younger Qunari did not know; both the children were not the most welcome, but Nazide would indeed never spill the words which would break the tallers heart. There was no need for that, not now. Both grew up with no parents - and Sataareth who believed that family was a vital thing, blood or pseudo… There was nothing but useless pain which would arrive from such a minor detail in his history.
The truth in his uprising was that both his fathers and mother were tal-vashoth, and had set both siblings a sail from the western shores of Qunanadar, to have eventually reached the docks of Llomerryn. The mage was never old enough to remember the face nor voices of his parents - and upon gaining the ability to long-term memorise things at around 5 or so, he was only ever surrounded by elvhen. Basic parts of the past shone through, such that cuased his ever lasting anxiety around other Qunari; however, he was raised Rivaini. Growing up, he became an odd hybrid of many cultures, the mass of exotic events and traditions the northern country had blended with the little Qunlat he had gathered from his sibling and that of which he found upon hunting duties, closer based around Kont-aar. Becoming a closer friend to a certain other elf, he found himself escaping at late nights into the city - watching the street brawls start when a simple man refused a fortune teller, sneaking the occasional foreign foods in his pockets (which he admittedly returned to and paid for the next day in pure guilt.) The mass of different boats which harboured people of all different places…
Yet, as much as Sataareth did enjoy to talk: He did in fact put words into the Inquisitors mouth, for talking about his past was.. difficult. He was proud of what he became, he was proud of surviving. But, oh how so much of him felt ashamed of what he was.
Finally, a small and nervous smile painted itself on his face as he watched Kaaras face him, but unlike earlier with the fiery passion he held for his brother - his fingers laced one another, a shaky and quiet inhale before he merely looked at the sky. Counting the stars.
“I… Am afraid I do not know where to start with such a topic of my raising, Inquisitor.. It merely just happened upon a series of events.. I do not know of… heh!~ I… I apologise for such.. My brother would be able to tell you!.. But I.. fear he is away.. Leliana would be the only justified and trustworthy answer upon his current positions..” He sighed, before glancing back upon the smaller Qunari who remained balanced on the balcony. “But being raised Dalish and learning Qunlat… I.. Believed I started off knowing two simple words.. I knew Hera.. and Hissra; such were words I heard a lot as a baby.. the rest arose from, again, Nazide. He knew Qunlat and learnt common tongue upon Rivaini young.. I.. was indeed too young, and so therefor learnt trade tongue first and Qunlat second, hmm?~ But how many do I know? Ha!~ I can not brag, my lord-ship.. I know bits and pieces of most, but that does not mean I can speak the tongue.. But.. I assume you mean in their completion, no?~ The common tongue.. w-which.. was rather obvious.. Qunlat, Dalish and Rivaini, hmm?~”
