Nostariel was quiet for a long moment, and stretched it further by taking a protracted drink from her wineglass. When she spoke, it was quietly, the humor vanished from her tones. "I don't know," she admitted with a small shrug. "The first thing I remember is being inside the Circle, watching out the window while the archers practiced. I always used to think that they were the most wonderful thing, you know? Their armor was all white and shiny, and occasionally one of them would notice me watching and wave up at me or something. I wanted to be one of them, when I grew up-- a Starkhaven archer, one of the very best in the world. A bit of a silly dream for a mage, but I didn't know it at the time, of course." She polished off the rest of her glass, though she wasn't quite rude enough to just reach for the bottle again. It occurred to her that she was saying perhaps more than he'd asked for, and probably more depressing things than one should burden such a recent acquaintance with, and yet it was much... easier than she'd have guessed.
Ashton felt the mood shift, the silence drawing a rather solemn air about them. His face shifted to fit the mood, listening eyes, a soft line etched in his lips. A comforting smile awaited to shine through should it be necessary, always there on the edge of his mouth. He didn't move much or fidget as she spoke and merely lent an intent ear. For once, the loud mouth slowed and waited patiently. As she finished off the glass, Ashton topped it right back off for her. The way she polished it off didn't bother him, it was just another insight into who really was Nostariel. After he was sure she had finished, he shook his head softly, "There's no such thing as silly dreams Nostariel, mage or no," he offered, polishing off his own drink. He poured himself another before he continued, "It's never too late you know? The armor I'm not too sure about, but you can always pick up a bow and learn. You'd just need the time and patience. If you ever believe that you want to pick that dream up again, my shop's always open. I think I got a couple of old bows laying about and I know of a clearing not too far from the city..." he said, allowing the implications to sink in.
"You... you'd do that? For me?" Disbelief echoed somewhere in the words, and she clutched at the stem of her wineglass as though it were all that tethered her to the situation. Foolish as it was, the very thought almost made her want to cry, and there was a definite hot prickle behind her eyes, only made more pronounced by the fact that her obvious happiness was offset by something else he'd said. If only this was the only dream she'd ever had to give up on, she might have been able to believe him. There was no simple generosity that could repair the damage done by the other, though, and it was that one that weighed most heavily on her heart.
Again, he felt the air shift into something heavier. Too heavy. In an attempt to combat it, he offered a bit of humor to lighten the mood. "Of course I'd do that. I mean, I learned how to shoot straight. A clever girl like yourself should have no trouble firing off arrows like yours truly. Whenever you feel up to it, just drop by the shop and we'll go on a little field trip... Maybe the adventure will have less Ithilian this time..." Ashton offered, remembering the last time he went hunting, and remembering the run in he had with the dalish in the Alienage. "Really don't think he likes me," Ashton chuckled as if he could care less and took a drink of his cup.
"I don't think Ithilian likes anyone much," Nostariel replied with a brief shake of her head. She was a bit surprised still that they seemed to have known each other, but it made as much sense as anything. She didn't mind the Dalish man at all, but unsociable was putting it lightly where he was concerned. "I wouldn't take it personally, were I you."
He shrugged at the offered reply. It wasn't like he took every little slight his way personal. Else he'd be a lot more bitter. Feeling that the air was lightened enough to further the conversation, Ashton did just that, "You say that you were raised in the Starkhaven Circle? What was that like?" he asked with no small amount of levity.
That was a dangerous question, and she studiously stayed away from the most relevant aspect of the question in favor of keeping the lightness. "Oh, you know. Long nights in the library, Senior Enchanters always prodding you with questions, getting your robes set on fire by the little ones who still don't quite know what they're doing. Leaving secret messages in books for the next person who has to read them, chasing each other 'round the hallways, that sort of thing." She smiled fondly, enjoying the little pieces of recollection and the slight buzz that was now fuzzing her wariness over just a bit. "Some of us were right terrors, too. Not me, though; I always wanted to be the responsible one." A wistful sigh. Looking back on it, she wished she'd been a little more of a hellion in her own right, if only to have enjoyed that warm, ensconcd feeling of safety and all it offered to the fullest.
"Sounds like quite the adventure. Whenever I acted up, my uncle dumped me in the woods with one instruction before he went home and locked the door. Survive. Showed him when morning came around-- I had breakfast cooked," he said, laughing. Whether he was laughing at the memory, or whether he was laughing because it was a joke remained to be seen, and he certainly wasn't going to ruin the surprise. Once he got the laughter out of his system, he chased it with a swig of the wine before he sat quietly for a moment. It wasn't an awkward silence by any means and actually felt kinda... Nice. It was a bit before he spoke again, "Sounds like it was one big happy family. Hearing you speak about it reminds me of my own," he said, growing relatively serious.
"They might not have been my parents.. But I loved them like they were. Did more for me than my real parents did," he said, looking at the wall wistfully, "Sure, a noble's life might have been soft and cushy but... I just couldn't imagine it would have the same... Warmth? I doubt that'd I'd even see my parents that often had it all stayed the same. They gave me purpose, life, and a backbone. I don't wonder about the what-ifs. Having to leave them hurt, you know. Last I heard, they were still in Highever, living like they did before I left. Hardy people," Ashton said smiling and looking back to Nostariel. "I still miss them from time to time. I get letters and such, but it's not the same, you know?"
"I suppose not. Sometimes, I wish I had never left the Circle. In fact, knowing what I do now, I never would have. I got too greedy, I guess, and other people paid for it more dearly than they deserved. Looking back, it was warm, in its way, if only I'd been able to appreciate it at the time. I grew up with good people, but... I didn't understand what family was then. I thought it had to be something different, something more like families on the outside, or in tales. I wanted that so very dearly. Part of me still does, for all that desire has destroyed." She was halfway into her third glass by now, and if she'd realized that, she probably would have insisted they stop talking, because this was always when her loose tongue started to betray her. As it was, she knew it not, and even though her face was flushed with the effects of the wine, she easily attributed it to the fire and thought nothing of it.
"I suppose that's why you were quick to side the the Templar-- Thrask during out last little excursion," Ashton noted, bringing the glass to his lips again. He too was beginning to feel the edges of the buzz, and had thusly consigned himself to drink slower. If he ended up fully lit, then his loose tongue may get around to beating his brains out talking. He'd rather not do that just quiet yet. Still, he was beginning to get to the heart of why he wished to speak with Nostariel. Sure, he loved the conversation, he loved the companionship, but he was curious. He shrugged and with a vague hint of apology in his voice, he spoke, "It sounds as if you haven't led an easy life. Certainly not as easy as mine. I'm sorry for digging such things up," he said, looking at the woman across from him.
"That's not it," Nostariel replied morosely, staring into the burgundy liquid still in front of her as though it held all the answers in the world. "I know why mages don't like Templars. I don't particularly get along with most of them either, but... a good man is a good man, and sometimes, he's a Templar." She shook her head almost violently, trying to clear a particular image from it, but it didn't work. It never had. "I..." She raked both hands through her hair, clearly anxious about something. "Have you ever been in love, Ashton?"
That was an unexpected question, and actually managed to throw Ashton off guard. He paused for a moment, and looked away as if trying to register what she had said. Once he had figured out that, yes, she did ask, he hesitated some more. He then shrugged, "Sadly. I can't say that I have. Not... real love. I've been smitten a couple of times," he said, glancing at her, "But they're shallow things. I have yet to be blessed with real love," he answered, with a bit of weight in his own voice. Sure, he'd loved before, that much was blaringly obvious... He'd just never been in love, and that fact stung. A lot more than he thought it would. Damn Rilien and his wine. For once in a long, long while, he felt the pang of loneliness.
"Smitten..." she echoed softly, pursing her lips and chancing a glance up at him. "That may well have been all it was, but you have to understand. Mages aren't allowed to fall in love. They aren't allowed to do silly, childish things, or think about having families, or live the way other people do. All of that is denied us, and we never learn to differentiate between all those feelings that we can have. We especially aren't allowed to feel affection for Templars. It's one of the reasons they're encouraged to be so distant with us, and we with them. That distrust... it prevents attachment. Well, it's supposed to." The Warden slumped forward, resting her chin on her hands. She'd already said this much, and the story just seemed to fall from her tongue after that.
"His name was Tristan. I was studying in the library late one evening, and he'd come by as part of his patrol, I guess. I'd never seen a Templar actually look at the books before, and I suppose it surprised me enough that I just... broke that barrier of silence that usually exists. I asked him if he was looking for anything in particular, and he told me he enjoyed epics. You know, old legends, bards' tales, stories about heroes and dragons and wonderous things. I was reading a book at the time, called the Tale of Ewan, and I lent it to him. Somehow, that turned into weekly meetings, and we talked about everything. The books, our lives, my studies and his training. It just became so normal to be with him, and I fancied myself in love. Maybe I was, maybe not, but for once, all I could see were the bars on my cage, and what they were stopping me from having."
She sighed heavily, seeming to almost deflate with it. "He was far too good to defy his vows, and I didn't want to make him. Besides, it wouldn't have been enough. I'd always wanted a family, a real one, whatever that means, and he told me he did, too. Barely out of childhood, and yet so sure that we knew everything that was good for us. It took us a while to figure out how we could get it, but then the Warden recruiter visited the Circle, and suddenly everything was obvious. He was an excellent warrior, and I knew healing magic backwards and forwards. We were young, willing volunteers, with excellent recommendations, and the recruiter took us without an issue. I thought... I thought I was finally going to have everything I'd ever wanted. It was going to be absolutely perfect: I was going to do something so much more useful to the world than staying trapped in a tower. I'd get to see things I'd only read about, and I'd do it all with Tristan." She stopped then, taking a deep, shuddering breath.
"It turns out that less than half of Warden recruits survive the Joining. I just... woke up, and there he was. I couldn't save him; nobody could. Some dreams really are just silly, Ashton. And I've dreamed too many of those to hold out much hope for the rest anymore." She offered what was supposed to be a sardonic smile, which was too bad, because it was more or less drowned in the saline liquid dripping from her eyes. If she wasn't just a little too into her drink to avoid it, she'd have been ashamed of herself for subjecting him to this.
Ashton felt his heart in his throat. He knew that there was something to Nostariel, something behind those clouded eyes. But he never expected this. He felt... He felt guilty. He felt like it was his fault, he felt like it was because of him she had to reopen those old wounds and experience that pain again. Even so. As guilty as he felt, he refused to look away from the Warden. She deserved that much. She was spilling her heart to him and he couldn't look away. He wouldn't. He watched as the tears streamed down her face in unusual stoic silence before he began to shake his head again. He refused to believe that, he just refused. He reached across the table and wiped what little tears he could from the woman's face as he spoke, "Dreams are never silly Nostariel. I refuse to believe that they are. Everyone deserves to dream, mages, templars, hunters, even apostates. It's what makes us... us. I'm... I'm sorry," Ashton said, reeling back his hand. He didn't know what else to say. What else could he say? "I know... It may seem cheap coming from me. I've never lost anything. I have no right to say this... But... Never give up hope. That little bit of hope. It makes this life worth living..." he said, finally growing quiet.
Nostariel shook her head mutely, catching his hand even as he drew it away, holding it perhaps a little too tightly for comfort as she tried to gather the words. It was hardly an easy task, and it took a matter of minutes, during which she sobbed harshly but refused to let go. Somehow, in that intervening time, it felt like something that had been weighing on her eased, like a small space in between her lungs opened up and let her breathe just a little more easily. This was a story that she hadn't told a soul, but now that she had, it seemed... better, in a way. Maybe she just really, really wanted to believe him. It was hard to say. Collecting herself, the Warden swiped at the remaining tears with her free hand, looking up at the hunter with a melancholy, awkward smile. She managed to produce a halfhearted chuckle, even, and blinked away the rest of the waterworks that still threatened. She hadn't cried like that in... she couldn't remember the last time. Perhaps never. She'd had no time to mourn Tristan truly, as she'd been thrown straight into her Warden training thereafter, and had used it to pretend that she was in no pain. It was only really since being relieved of her command that she'd had this much time to think on her circumstances, and this was perhaps the first occasion on which she'd wept for them.
"Well," she managed, still sounding a bit tremulous, "now that I've established that I am absolutely the worst drinking buddy ever..." She trailed off, realizing she was still gripping his hand and released gently. "I'm sorry. It's probably horrible form to just dump all that on you. But... thank you, truly. I wish the world had more people like you. I wish I was more like you."
"You're not that bad of a drinking buddy," Ashton shooed. "A lot better than Rilien, I'd hazard a guess," though he mentioned it, he just couldn't muster up the energy to imagine it, hiliarious as it might be. Then he went quiet for a second reflecting on the second bit of the comment before shrugging, "Yeah, well, if there were more people like me, then I wouldn't nearly be as unique," he said, giving a false smile. There was.. A shadow over his own past. He didn't quite wish his past on Nostariel, nor did he really want her to keep her own... His was nothing like Nostariel's, but he too had his share of skeletons in his closet. Ones he never allowed himself to think about. However, he felt just raw enough, just drunk enough to think about them. He quickly tried to lock them away. It was not time for them to fall out, not yet. He reaffirmed himself with another smile, this one bigger and more real than the last.
He picked up the bottle, which still had some of the liquor in it before swirling it around in the bottle, "Really good wine," he restated, "Though, I'm not sure if I should thank Rilien, or just glare at him..." he posited before chuckling.
"I should thank him. I... it hurts, but..." she sighed gustily. "I think I needed to say it all, even just to hear it myself, and I never would have done it on my own." There was no mistaking that it hurt afresh now, and yet perhaps that was the way it should be. An infected wound needed to be cut open and cleaned quite painfully before it could heal properly, and in this case, she was sure there was no magic to substitute for that process, however convenient that might have been. She might have been a bit gone, but it didn't stop her from noticing-- or perhaps simply imagining-- the shadow that passed behind his eyes. "Next time, we'll talk about you, if you feel like it. Even if that means I just get to expand my repertiore of jokes and odd puns. I do need to try and keep up with Varric, after all."
"Stick around, I got plenty of 'em," Ashton replied chuckling. In a way, he was glad. She looked to be better than she once was, though the air of sadness still hung in the air, perhaps an air of healing hung around as well, though that might have just been the alcohol clouding his eyes. For both their sakes, he dared to hope that it was the case, and that it had helped, that he in some way helped allievate what weight was on her shoulders. It was of his opinion that no one should be bound, by chains or even by their pasts. Everything deserved freedom in a perfect world, and though it wasn't a perfect world, he wanted to try his best to make it that much closer. Perhaps that's why he still felt that tinge of guilt.
It was abundantly clear to both of them that a move away from such weighty matters was what the situation called for. Nostariel, bleeding afresh at least metaphorically, needed time more than anything right now, and while she wasn't sure about him, it seemed appropriate to steer clear of tragedy and awkwardness for the moment. She wasn't exactly sure what to talk about in the wake of it, though, until the subject matter came upon her quite by accident. It seemed so simple, now that she thought about it. "You know... Varric and his brother are planning an expedition into the Deep Roads. I'm going along to guide them, but they're in need of someone to invest. I'd just gotten through promising to see if I could find someone when you walked in. I don't know as many people in Kirkwall as I should. Perhaps you're aware of someone who'd be interested?"
Ashton pursed his lips as he thought. He had heard rumblings of an expedition, though he didn't quite understand the details. Muffled rumblings more like. Though, and investment meant a return. Any simpleton could see that the Deep Roads and what treasures within would be ripe for the plucking, especially after the recent blight. Most of the ugly creepy nasties would be dead or in the process of dragging their taint back underground. He was also running behind on his payments again... Perhaps, perhaps if... "You know. I think I do have someone in mind. He's got two thumbs, and is just crazy enough to go on this little adventure," he said, twitching his thumbs in the air to indicate that it was, indeed, himself. "I could take what savings I have under my mattress," and put his shop up for a loan-- though he wasn't going to tell her that part, "And invest in this little venture-- If I get to tag along and see my investment through... Plus one," He added.
He felt like Sparrow needed time out of the city, and though an underground adventure wasn't the normal idea of a vacation, the scent of adventure should have been strong enough to hook her in. Besides, he doubted they'd have to worry about demons, blood magic, and apostates underground. It sounded like fun, if he thought about it. "So how about that?" He posed, arms outstretched awaiting an answer.
Miracle of miracles, Nostariel managed a snicker. "You'd have to take it up with Varric, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind. He can drive a hard bargain, but he and Bartrand are so desperate that you could probably ask for a whole circus to accompany you and get it, but don't tell him I told you so."
"Not a whole circus... Just part of it," He grinned.
Ashton felt the mood shift, the silence drawing a rather solemn air about them. His face shifted to fit the mood, listening eyes, a soft line etched in his lips. A comforting smile awaited to shine through should it be necessary, always there on the edge of his mouth. He didn't move much or fidget as she spoke and merely lent an intent ear. For once, the loud mouth slowed and waited patiently. As she finished off the glass, Ashton topped it right back off for her. The way she polished it off didn't bother him, it was just another insight into who really was Nostariel. After he was sure she had finished, he shook his head softly, "There's no such thing as silly dreams Nostariel, mage or no," he offered, polishing off his own drink. He poured himself another before he continued, "It's never too late you know? The armor I'm not too sure about, but you can always pick up a bow and learn. You'd just need the time and patience. If you ever believe that you want to pick that dream up again, my shop's always open. I think I got a couple of old bows laying about and I know of a clearing not too far from the city..." he said, allowing the implications to sink in.
"You... you'd do that? For me?" Disbelief echoed somewhere in the words, and she clutched at the stem of her wineglass as though it were all that tethered her to the situation. Foolish as it was, the very thought almost made her want to cry, and there was a definite hot prickle behind her eyes, only made more pronounced by the fact that her obvious happiness was offset by something else he'd said. If only this was the only dream she'd ever had to give up on, she might have been able to believe him. There was no simple generosity that could repair the damage done by the other, though, and it was that one that weighed most heavily on her heart.
Again, he felt the air shift into something heavier. Too heavy. In an attempt to combat it, he offered a bit of humor to lighten the mood. "Of course I'd do that. I mean, I learned how to shoot straight. A clever girl like yourself should have no trouble firing off arrows like yours truly. Whenever you feel up to it, just drop by the shop and we'll go on a little field trip... Maybe the adventure will have less Ithilian this time..." Ashton offered, remembering the last time he went hunting, and remembering the run in he had with the dalish in the Alienage. "Really don't think he likes me," Ashton chuckled as if he could care less and took a drink of his cup.
"I don't think Ithilian likes anyone much," Nostariel replied with a brief shake of her head. She was a bit surprised still that they seemed to have known each other, but it made as much sense as anything. She didn't mind the Dalish man at all, but unsociable was putting it lightly where he was concerned. "I wouldn't take it personally, were I you."
He shrugged at the offered reply. It wasn't like he took every little slight his way personal. Else he'd be a lot more bitter. Feeling that the air was lightened enough to further the conversation, Ashton did just that, "You say that you were raised in the Starkhaven Circle? What was that like?" he asked with no small amount of levity.
That was a dangerous question, and she studiously stayed away from the most relevant aspect of the question in favor of keeping the lightness. "Oh, you know. Long nights in the library, Senior Enchanters always prodding you with questions, getting your robes set on fire by the little ones who still don't quite know what they're doing. Leaving secret messages in books for the next person who has to read them, chasing each other 'round the hallways, that sort of thing." She smiled fondly, enjoying the little pieces of recollection and the slight buzz that was now fuzzing her wariness over just a bit. "Some of us were right terrors, too. Not me, though; I always wanted to be the responsible one." A wistful sigh. Looking back on it, she wished she'd been a little more of a hellion in her own right, if only to have enjoyed that warm, ensconcd feeling of safety and all it offered to the fullest.
"Sounds like quite the adventure. Whenever I acted up, my uncle dumped me in the woods with one instruction before he went home and locked the door. Survive. Showed him when morning came around-- I had breakfast cooked," he said, laughing. Whether he was laughing at the memory, or whether he was laughing because it was a joke remained to be seen, and he certainly wasn't going to ruin the surprise. Once he got the laughter out of his system, he chased it with a swig of the wine before he sat quietly for a moment. It wasn't an awkward silence by any means and actually felt kinda... Nice. It was a bit before he spoke again, "Sounds like it was one big happy family. Hearing you speak about it reminds me of my own," he said, growing relatively serious.
"They might not have been my parents.. But I loved them like they were. Did more for me than my real parents did," he said, looking at the wall wistfully, "Sure, a noble's life might have been soft and cushy but... I just couldn't imagine it would have the same... Warmth? I doubt that'd I'd even see my parents that often had it all stayed the same. They gave me purpose, life, and a backbone. I don't wonder about the what-ifs. Having to leave them hurt, you know. Last I heard, they were still in Highever, living like they did before I left. Hardy people," Ashton said smiling and looking back to Nostariel. "I still miss them from time to time. I get letters and such, but it's not the same, you know?"
"I suppose not. Sometimes, I wish I had never left the Circle. In fact, knowing what I do now, I never would have. I got too greedy, I guess, and other people paid for it more dearly than they deserved. Looking back, it was warm, in its way, if only I'd been able to appreciate it at the time. I grew up with good people, but... I didn't understand what family was then. I thought it had to be something different, something more like families on the outside, or in tales. I wanted that so very dearly. Part of me still does, for all that desire has destroyed." She was halfway into her third glass by now, and if she'd realized that, she probably would have insisted they stop talking, because this was always when her loose tongue started to betray her. As it was, she knew it not, and even though her face was flushed with the effects of the wine, she easily attributed it to the fire and thought nothing of it.
"I suppose that's why you were quick to side the the Templar-- Thrask during out last little excursion," Ashton noted, bringing the glass to his lips again. He too was beginning to feel the edges of the buzz, and had thusly consigned himself to drink slower. If he ended up fully lit, then his loose tongue may get around to beating his brains out talking. He'd rather not do that just quiet yet. Still, he was beginning to get to the heart of why he wished to speak with Nostariel. Sure, he loved the conversation, he loved the companionship, but he was curious. He shrugged and with a vague hint of apology in his voice, he spoke, "It sounds as if you haven't led an easy life. Certainly not as easy as mine. I'm sorry for digging such things up," he said, looking at the woman across from him.
"That's not it," Nostariel replied morosely, staring into the burgundy liquid still in front of her as though it held all the answers in the world. "I know why mages don't like Templars. I don't particularly get along with most of them either, but... a good man is a good man, and sometimes, he's a Templar." She shook her head almost violently, trying to clear a particular image from it, but it didn't work. It never had. "I..." She raked both hands through her hair, clearly anxious about something. "Have you ever been in love, Ashton?"
That was an unexpected question, and actually managed to throw Ashton off guard. He paused for a moment, and looked away as if trying to register what she had said. Once he had figured out that, yes, she did ask, he hesitated some more. He then shrugged, "Sadly. I can't say that I have. Not... real love. I've been smitten a couple of times," he said, glancing at her, "But they're shallow things. I have yet to be blessed with real love," he answered, with a bit of weight in his own voice. Sure, he'd loved before, that much was blaringly obvious... He'd just never been in love, and that fact stung. A lot more than he thought it would. Damn Rilien and his wine. For once in a long, long while, he felt the pang of loneliness.
"Smitten..." she echoed softly, pursing her lips and chancing a glance up at him. "That may well have been all it was, but you have to understand. Mages aren't allowed to fall in love. They aren't allowed to do silly, childish things, or think about having families, or live the way other people do. All of that is denied us, and we never learn to differentiate between all those feelings that we can have. We especially aren't allowed to feel affection for Templars. It's one of the reasons they're encouraged to be so distant with us, and we with them. That distrust... it prevents attachment. Well, it's supposed to." The Warden slumped forward, resting her chin on her hands. She'd already said this much, and the story just seemed to fall from her tongue after that.
"His name was Tristan. I was studying in the library late one evening, and he'd come by as part of his patrol, I guess. I'd never seen a Templar actually look at the books before, and I suppose it surprised me enough that I just... broke that barrier of silence that usually exists. I asked him if he was looking for anything in particular, and he told me he enjoyed epics. You know, old legends, bards' tales, stories about heroes and dragons and wonderous things. I was reading a book at the time, called the Tale of Ewan, and I lent it to him. Somehow, that turned into weekly meetings, and we talked about everything. The books, our lives, my studies and his training. It just became so normal to be with him, and I fancied myself in love. Maybe I was, maybe not, but for once, all I could see were the bars on my cage, and what they were stopping me from having."
She sighed heavily, seeming to almost deflate with it. "He was far too good to defy his vows, and I didn't want to make him. Besides, it wouldn't have been enough. I'd always wanted a family, a real one, whatever that means, and he told me he did, too. Barely out of childhood, and yet so sure that we knew everything that was good for us. It took us a while to figure out how we could get it, but then the Warden recruiter visited the Circle, and suddenly everything was obvious. He was an excellent warrior, and I knew healing magic backwards and forwards. We were young, willing volunteers, with excellent recommendations, and the recruiter took us without an issue. I thought... I thought I was finally going to have everything I'd ever wanted. It was going to be absolutely perfect: I was going to do something so much more useful to the world than staying trapped in a tower. I'd get to see things I'd only read about, and I'd do it all with Tristan." She stopped then, taking a deep, shuddering breath.
"It turns out that less than half of Warden recruits survive the Joining. I just... woke up, and there he was. I couldn't save him; nobody could. Some dreams really are just silly, Ashton. And I've dreamed too many of those to hold out much hope for the rest anymore." She offered what was supposed to be a sardonic smile, which was too bad, because it was more or less drowned in the saline liquid dripping from her eyes. If she wasn't just a little too into her drink to avoid it, she'd have been ashamed of herself for subjecting him to this.
Ashton felt his heart in his throat. He knew that there was something to Nostariel, something behind those clouded eyes. But he never expected this. He felt... He felt guilty. He felt like it was his fault, he felt like it was because of him she had to reopen those old wounds and experience that pain again. Even so. As guilty as he felt, he refused to look away from the Warden. She deserved that much. She was spilling her heart to him and he couldn't look away. He wouldn't. He watched as the tears streamed down her face in unusual stoic silence before he began to shake his head again. He refused to believe that, he just refused. He reached across the table and wiped what little tears he could from the woman's face as he spoke, "Dreams are never silly Nostariel. I refuse to believe that they are. Everyone deserves to dream, mages, templars, hunters, even apostates. It's what makes us... us. I'm... I'm sorry," Ashton said, reeling back his hand. He didn't know what else to say. What else could he say? "I know... It may seem cheap coming from me. I've never lost anything. I have no right to say this... But... Never give up hope. That little bit of hope. It makes this life worth living..." he said, finally growing quiet.
Nostariel shook her head mutely, catching his hand even as he drew it away, holding it perhaps a little too tightly for comfort as she tried to gather the words. It was hardly an easy task, and it took a matter of minutes, during which she sobbed harshly but refused to let go. Somehow, in that intervening time, it felt like something that had been weighing on her eased, like a small space in between her lungs opened up and let her breathe just a little more easily. This was a story that she hadn't told a soul, but now that she had, it seemed... better, in a way. Maybe she just really, really wanted to believe him. It was hard to say. Collecting herself, the Warden swiped at the remaining tears with her free hand, looking up at the hunter with a melancholy, awkward smile. She managed to produce a halfhearted chuckle, even, and blinked away the rest of the waterworks that still threatened. She hadn't cried like that in... she couldn't remember the last time. Perhaps never. She'd had no time to mourn Tristan truly, as she'd been thrown straight into her Warden training thereafter, and had used it to pretend that she was in no pain. It was only really since being relieved of her command that she'd had this much time to think on her circumstances, and this was perhaps the first occasion on which she'd wept for them.
"Well," she managed, still sounding a bit tremulous, "now that I've established that I am absolutely the worst drinking buddy ever..." She trailed off, realizing she was still gripping his hand and released gently. "I'm sorry. It's probably horrible form to just dump all that on you. But... thank you, truly. I wish the world had more people like you. I wish I was more like you."
"You're not that bad of a drinking buddy," Ashton shooed. "A lot better than Rilien, I'd hazard a guess," though he mentioned it, he just couldn't muster up the energy to imagine it, hiliarious as it might be. Then he went quiet for a second reflecting on the second bit of the comment before shrugging, "Yeah, well, if there were more people like me, then I wouldn't nearly be as unique," he said, giving a false smile. There was.. A shadow over his own past. He didn't quite wish his past on Nostariel, nor did he really want her to keep her own... His was nothing like Nostariel's, but he too had his share of skeletons in his closet. Ones he never allowed himself to think about. However, he felt just raw enough, just drunk enough to think about them. He quickly tried to lock them away. It was not time for them to fall out, not yet. He reaffirmed himself with another smile, this one bigger and more real than the last.
He picked up the bottle, which still had some of the liquor in it before swirling it around in the bottle, "Really good wine," he restated, "Though, I'm not sure if I should thank Rilien, or just glare at him..." he posited before chuckling.
"I should thank him. I... it hurts, but..." she sighed gustily. "I think I needed to say it all, even just to hear it myself, and I never would have done it on my own." There was no mistaking that it hurt afresh now, and yet perhaps that was the way it should be. An infected wound needed to be cut open and cleaned quite painfully before it could heal properly, and in this case, she was sure there was no magic to substitute for that process, however convenient that might have been. She might have been a bit gone, but it didn't stop her from noticing-- or perhaps simply imagining-- the shadow that passed behind his eyes. "Next time, we'll talk about you, if you feel like it. Even if that means I just get to expand my repertiore of jokes and odd puns. I do need to try and keep up with Varric, after all."
"Stick around, I got plenty of 'em," Ashton replied chuckling. In a way, he was glad. She looked to be better than she once was, though the air of sadness still hung in the air, perhaps an air of healing hung around as well, though that might have just been the alcohol clouding his eyes. For both their sakes, he dared to hope that it was the case, and that it had helped, that he in some way helped allievate what weight was on her shoulders. It was of his opinion that no one should be bound, by chains or even by their pasts. Everything deserved freedom in a perfect world, and though it wasn't a perfect world, he wanted to try his best to make it that much closer. Perhaps that's why he still felt that tinge of guilt.
It was abundantly clear to both of them that a move away from such weighty matters was what the situation called for. Nostariel, bleeding afresh at least metaphorically, needed time more than anything right now, and while she wasn't sure about him, it seemed appropriate to steer clear of tragedy and awkwardness for the moment. She wasn't exactly sure what to talk about in the wake of it, though, until the subject matter came upon her quite by accident. It seemed so simple, now that she thought about it. "You know... Varric and his brother are planning an expedition into the Deep Roads. I'm going along to guide them, but they're in need of someone to invest. I'd just gotten through promising to see if I could find someone when you walked in. I don't know as many people in Kirkwall as I should. Perhaps you're aware of someone who'd be interested?"
Ashton pursed his lips as he thought. He had heard rumblings of an expedition, though he didn't quite understand the details. Muffled rumblings more like. Though, and investment meant a return. Any simpleton could see that the Deep Roads and what treasures within would be ripe for the plucking, especially after the recent blight. Most of the ugly creepy nasties would be dead or in the process of dragging their taint back underground. He was also running behind on his payments again... Perhaps, perhaps if... "You know. I think I do have someone in mind. He's got two thumbs, and is just crazy enough to go on this little adventure," he said, twitching his thumbs in the air to indicate that it was, indeed, himself. "I could take what savings I have under my mattress," and put his shop up for a loan-- though he wasn't going to tell her that part, "And invest in this little venture-- If I get to tag along and see my investment through... Plus one," He added.
He felt like Sparrow needed time out of the city, and though an underground adventure wasn't the normal idea of a vacation, the scent of adventure should have been strong enough to hook her in. Besides, he doubted they'd have to worry about demons, blood magic, and apostates underground. It sounded like fun, if he thought about it. "So how about that?" He posed, arms outstretched awaiting an answer.
Miracle of miracles, Nostariel managed a snicker. "You'd have to take it up with Varric, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind. He can drive a hard bargain, but he and Bartrand are so desperate that you could probably ask for a whole circus to accompany you and get it, but don't tell him I told you so."
"Not a whole circus... Just part of it," He grinned.