(no subject)
When compared to her most recent adventures, life on this island was rather dull for the witch Morrigan. She had neither templars nor darkspawn nor assassins of any other sort on her trail, and it had to be said, after a while she had started to find it exceedingly boring.
Some excitement had been found in the form of what she had learned to be called clones, people who looked eerily similar - if not identical - to others. In Morrigan's case, she had met the woman in question and had found, to her chagrin, that she had not instantly hated her. Even Alistair's not-quite-twin was more bearable than she had expected. So the only real source of conflict for her was the bastard. Not that she went out of her way to find him - on the contrary, she had not seen him since that day on the beach, and intended to keep it that way until she grew bored enough to seek out an argument or two.
That time had not yet come. Some activity had presented itself in the form of a herbalist's kit appearing in her camp one night. She had no earthly explanation for the materials' presence, but she could certainly use them, so she did, experimenting with various plants and fruits and even animals she found in the jungle. Just the night before she had killed what she judged to be a wild pig of some sort, black-furred and ferocious. Without her magic, it had been difficult to subdue, but in the end she had been victorious.
She was currently debating what to do with the rest of the carcass. She could not drag it around with her all day; 'twas beginning to smell, and she had quite thoroughly stripped it of any useful meat. She prodded it with her toe where it lay on the jungle floor and looked up when she heard footsteps. It seemed she was closer to the main path than she had initially thought.
Her mouth set into a frown, she looked up and over at the intruder, considering for a moment. Perhaps she could use them to her advantage.
"Would you like a dead pig?"
Some excitement had been found in the form of what she had learned to be called clones, people who looked eerily similar - if not identical - to others. In Morrigan's case, she had met the woman in question and had found, to her chagrin, that she had not instantly hated her. Even Alistair's not-quite-twin was more bearable than she had expected. So the only real source of conflict for her was the bastard. Not that she went out of her way to find him - on the contrary, she had not seen him since that day on the beach, and intended to keep it that way until she grew bored enough to seek out an argument or two.
That time had not yet come. Some activity had presented itself in the form of a herbalist's kit appearing in her camp one night. She had no earthly explanation for the materials' presence, but she could certainly use them, so she did, experimenting with various plants and fruits and even animals she found in the jungle. Just the night before she had killed what she judged to be a wild pig of some sort, black-furred and ferocious. Without her magic, it had been difficult to subdue, but in the end she had been victorious.
She was currently debating what to do with the rest of the carcass. She could not drag it around with her all day; 'twas beginning to smell, and she had quite thoroughly stripped it of any useful meat. She prodded it with her toe where it lay on the jungle floor and looked up when she heard footsteps. It seemed she was closer to the main path than she had initially thought.
Her mouth set into a frown, she looked up and over at the intruder, considering for a moment. Perhaps she could use them to her advantage.
"Would you like a dead pig?"