Hushed Willows And I won't help but stare at every word

Quieted;
for now, Andraste simply rests against the graceful figure of the seraph; listening with lashes heavy to marred cheek the voice that thrums throughout the vessel of him and catches betwixt her spry ribs. Listens still as he tells her of how the very tranquility of this trendiled place had once been some manner of cage; waxes plain of a mother who had been exceptionally unkind amongst all others; does not yet heed his prior enquiries, and only hums in prolonged quiet as he then enquires of her own invitation.  "I like to think that a mind such as yours would be a welcome addition to those within ze Vale."  The leveled fairness; the cooled intellect; the independence of reason;  "I cannot blame you, rather you would wander, of course."

His choice, yes;
and in time, perhaps she would tell him the many truths that she had felled upon the clouded yearling with; if not here, in this place of dead and desolate things.