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[color=e3c954] σρнєℓια тяєνєℓуαη[/color]
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Ophelia cautiously regarded the strange woman — Alba, as she identified herself. There was a lack of color, a lack of warmth within the woman that matched the thick tufts of falling snow outside. Silver hair, ice-blue eyes, and pure white skin, her quick-witted words didn’t quite match the sharpness of the rest of her features. 

Plastering on a gracious smile, Ophelia beckoned for her companions to sheathe their weapons, even as Sera openly protested at the command. She shot the young elf a pointed look and then returned her attention to what she assumed was a captain of sorts. 

“No, my apologies,” she said gracefully, her home training kicking in with the smoothness of her words. “We heard quite a ruckus and worried there may be trouble to attend to. I am Ophelia Trevelyan.” She didn’t bother introducing her companions, silently motioning for them to keep guard at her back should trouble arise once more. 

Indeed, the air was quite hostile despite the clear presence of the Inquisition. Alba had a strange way of speaking, both cutting and impassive, her eyes seemed to roam predatorily over to the minstrel, who kept cutting a pleading stare at Ophelia. Without dropping pleasantries, Ophelia subtly tilted her head at Blackwall, just in time for what appeared to be a bar fight to break out. 

“Positions!” Her clear voice rang across the room, alerting a couple of mercenaries to her presence. Swiftly kicking the chair out from under Alba, she collapsed to the ground in an attempt to pin the pirate to the ground. 

Behind her, she was vaguely aware of Dorian’s flash of green light encasing the group in a protective barrier, while arrow after arrow whizzed from Sera’s direction. She grappled with Alba, coal-black strands of hair falling from their secured position, temporarily blinding Ophelia. Well, her mother would have a fit if she saw her only daughter tussling with a ruffian on the stained, sticky floor of a dingy tavern. 

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[color=92b063]нуα¢ιηтн уєννιη[/color]
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Blinking back at the man in astonishment, Hyacinth’s expression swiftly morphed into one of displeasure. Her brows met at the tip of her nose bridge and the corners of her lips drooped in a slight frown. So he was [i]that[/i]kind of leader, the kind that demanded respect without first proving why he deserved it. Titles be damned. She curled her fists at her side, biting the inside of her cheek to stifle the heated words she thought of throwing at him.

He was the commander and to him, she was nothing more than a scout — a little elven servant, so to speak. At least he hadn’t called her a knife-ear, she thought with mild annoyance. 

“So many questions,” she murmured then said in a louder tone, “You can call me Hyacinth. None severely injured, save for Fisher whose ego is mildly afflicted after a rage demon sliced him open in the Hinterlands. Bloody fool made the mistake of turning his back while gathering embrium.” 

Fisher, another one of Leliana’s double agents and the one person Hyacinth might’ve considered a friend, had three long gashes on his back. He was immediately sent off the field and replaced by a regular scout. Although Leliana had a large network teeming with assassins and spies of various backgrounds, Fisher and Hyacinth were a rarity, being the only ones to actively work for the Inquisition rather than alongside it.

She had to admit, picking flowers and surveying new regions for the Inquisitor was hardly as entertaining as pure murder and subterfuge, but Leliana had tasked her specifically with keeping a close eye on Ophelia Trevelyan whenever she could. Watch her dishes be prepared, follow up on any outside activity made by her companions — especially Iron Bull, who was a spy in his own right — and overall, make sure no indirect harm came to pass. Whatever happened in the field was another story, entirely.

“I report to the Inquisitor and Sister Leliana, as needs arise. The missive I arrived with, if you have failed to follow the … [i]simplicity[/i] of its contents, merely state that Lady Trevelyan will be back within the week. Nothing more and nothing less was provided.”