Chapter Text
He detests tal-vashoth, the way they relentlessly and mindlessly murder innocents in some form of twisted, misguided vendetta against the Qun.
Asaara is not that.
She grits her teeth, sets her jaw, tilts her head to gaze at him like he’s something she’ll kill if she has to. She probably will. He’d heard enough about her mercenary crew to know that any who hurt her own did not live to speak of it.
“Ben-Hassrath huh?”
Barely a minute of conversation and she’s got him pegged before he could even share enough to get her comfortable, to trust him because he gave up just the right amount of information.
“We need people, your men seem more than qualified. But know that I am the Inquisition’s just as you are the Qun’s. I will never trust you with my back as long as that’s the truth of things.”
Adaar, Weapon.
The way she sets her shoulders as she rises, flicking her gaze over to assess the terrain and her own group, he can see the sense in such a name for her. Like a promise, she doesn’t turn her back to him fully, always aware of him as she towers over an elven mage who gestures across the map murmuring about some “artifact”. The thing that crawls under his skin, burrows inside of him and unsettles him down to his core though?
He thinks he likes how she backed him into a corner.