Northstar Vale foalócë

The softening of dark features;
had her statement taken him aback? She cannot be sure, can never be sure, again again again;
but he — Abedi, now — speaks of his services and therein she finds something of a kindred spirit. A greenseer, as she is; a starkindler, as she once was; a bloodbather, in the questing manner. He presents all of these propositions to her, and the stricken cannot find it within herself to refuse; perhaps, too, her wolves might wander his way to enquire of the exact nature of his polytheism; or if, like her beloved @Olive, he sees his gods in the stars who assist him upon homebound voyage. 

Again again again, the sibyl tugs herself from her reverie, all in time to hear Abedi  (eyes alighting, curiously and unquailing)  ask likewise—  "I intend for my Courtiers to address me by rank. However ..." — upon the twin scales tethered about his throat. Reforged by skies, refashioned from that past soul; she eases away from the inked male; invitation to her thinned side.  "You may call me Andraste."