The Chantry wasn't Nostariel's favorite place in the world, though she couldn't say she felt the same revulsion towards it as some did. He, after all, had been quite fond of the Chant, though not slavishly devoted. It was hard to look upon anything he'd liked and see ugliness, even if it was there. That was just the sort of person he'd been. A small pang of remembrance twinged in her chest, though it was soon soothed and gone. It was something that brought a smile to her face; she'd never forget him, and she'd always love him, but she was no longer consumed by his memory, mind, body, and soul. There was room in there for other things, now, and she had the very best of friends to thank for that. And maybe, just a little bit, she could thank herself, too. She was still alive, and still capable of giving more to this place before she inevitably left it as all people must. That was worth more than she'd thought, maybe.
The towering ceilings of the building still put her vaguely ill at ease, but she was bolstered by this new sense of self, and she'd made a point to wear her Warden's armor here, and to affix the red band of her officer's rank to her arm where it belonged. This part, she was still skeptical of, but today, her weakness would be her armor as well. She didn't bother to hide what she was, and indeed, her staff was strapped prominently to her back, her pale blonde hair presently fixed onto a tail atop her head, baring her pointed ears to even the most cursory scrutiny. She was twice, possibly thrice-damned, depending on who you spoke to, but she wasn't going to apologize for it.
She'd thought to meet Sophia in the Keep today, but the Seneschal, looking somewhat puzzled to see a Warden inquiring, had directed her to the Chantry instead. At present, her obvious oddity in such a place was going to do her a service, as it was bound to reach the Viscount's daughter that an armored elf woman (a mage, at that!) had just walked into the house of the Maker like she belonged there. And they'd let her, were they true to their faith. It would hopefully, however, save her the trouble of having to look for Sophia, as she honestly didn't know where the young woman would be.
Nostariel would have to wait for a moment, however, as the Viscount's daughter was not immediately present. One of the sisters had informed her of the Warden's arrival, of course, but Sophia took an extra moment to herself, kneeling as she was before a particularly beautifully carved statue of Andraste, up the stairs to Nostariel's right. She wiped a hand across her eyes, which Nostariel would likely be able to notice were slightly more red than usual, her overall appearance a tad more disheveled than her usual self, though she was good at hiding it at this point. She found herself wishing she was in armor again, her mother's sword comfortably seated upon her back.
Having collected herself as best she was able, Sophia rose to her feet slowly, taking a moment to brush off her skirts before she turned and strode towards the railing, spotting the armored elven Warden below, and waving to catch her attention. Her first attempt to speak went poorly, the woman's name catching in her throat, which she had foolishly neglected to clear, but the second try came out much better, if not sounding entirely like her. "Hello, Nostariel. Come join me? It's much more comfortable to speak up here, if that's what you'd like." That was true enough. The entryway had little more than wooden benches along the walls, and an empty expanse of stone flooring in between, whereas the upper levels had cushioned chairs and couches, a warm fire to sit next to.. and a much more private setting.
Sophia certainly trusted all of the Sisters enough to speak freely around them, but if the Warden had indeed come here to speak with her, it seemed best to arrange a private setting. And Sophia had no reason to suspect otherwise; she had not seen Nostariel within these walls before.
A wave and a call from above drew Nostariel's attention, and she glanced upward to catch sight of Sophia. Something seemed... off about her, but from this distance, it was impossible to put her finger on exactly what that might be, so the elf lifted a hand in acknowledgement and headed for the stairs. She supposed that what she had come to discuss could be done just as well publicly or privately, but perhaps it would be best not to make the nature of their work together and with Lucien the subject of gossip. Saying that one was trying to 'clean up Kirkwall' was all well and good, but few people had need of the less-glamorous details of the occupation. It was highly unlikely that anyone really wanted to know how many people their future Viscountess and her allies had to wade through to get there.
Ascending the stone staircase, Nostariel found herself in a much cozier sort of area. Here, the ceilings were not so high, nor the statues so... large and golden. It was a little ostentatious, all the wealth on clear display, between the rich red tapestries and the massive, aureate figure of Andraste looming over the whole thing. But then, she supposed that when your primary attendees and donors had quite a lot of wealth and splendor themselves, you had to make them feel humbled somehow. At any rate, the furnishings here were comfortable-looking, not so different from the ones she recalled being in the Circle library.
Sophia herself, however, was another matter. What from a distance was simply something vaguely off was up close evidently some form of distress. Her eyes were red-rimmed as though she'd been weeping (and Nostariel certainly knew what that looked like), and her overall appearance was less put-together than it had been on any other occasion the two had met. The Warden paused, unsure if their current relationship would make an inquiry too personal. She admittedly didn't know much about what nobility did in situations like this, so she consulted her only possible source for the proper etiquette: what would Lucien or Ashton do? If the answer seemed to be the same, it was probably the right one. That in mind, she ventured the question.
"Sophia? Are you... is something the matter? If you would prefer I leave for now and come back tomorrow, it can wait." She stopped just short of asking if there was anything she could do. Though that was her instinct, she wasn't quite sure it was her business.
Sophia actually smiled as she shook her head, and she wasn't really sure why. Words her father used to say more often came to mind, something about how her mother always had the most radiant of smiles, and how when she grew up, she was going to look just like her, be just as beautiful, and so she should smile just as much. There wasn't really much to smile about now, but she did it anyway. A Viscountess did not allow her personal issues to overwhelm her, especially not when speaking with guests.
"No, please stay," she said, taking a seat in a crimson colored armchair, not allowing her mood to affect her posture. "It's just some family issues," she explained, dabbing at her eyes again to prevent any more tears from coming out of them. "My brother is somewhat of a handful," she added, and that would probably be all the explanation she would offer. There was more to it than that, of course, but it had been another outburst from Saemus that had spilled it over the top, and in a moment of shameful weakness she allowed her stress to break through her walls, and fled the Keep for her sanctuary here, only to find that Andraste offered scant comfort to her. There was little to do but rebuild the walls, and act like they'd never collapsed in the first place.
"Talking will help, I think," she said, still trying to hold a smile, though it was a bit of a sad smile at this point. "How are you? It's been some time since last we spoke."
"I see," Nostariel said quietly, though really, she didn't. She had no idea what it was like to have a family, and she supposed it could be as stressful as calming, sometimes. Either way, it seemed as though Sophia was content to speak of other things for the moment, and if that was her wish, the Warden would respect it. Moving to sit in a different chair close by Sophia's, the elf settled herself gingerly in place before answering, tracing a finger along the pattern in the rich material.
"I am... doing rather well, actually. Darkspawn activity is starting to pick up again, but as of yet, it isn't anything that I can't handle on my own or with a little assistance." Her duties also seemed less laborious, perhaps, because she was trying, bit by bit, to embrace them rather than merely tolerating them. An incomplete process, but one that helped by degrees. "I came to tell you though... the Coterie's been growing recently, and Lucien tells me they've become a great deal bolder. More and more of his jobs involve dealing with them, and apparently the Alienage is threatened by them as well as Darktown, now." She had no particular explanation to give for the new rush of criminal activity, but there was always the possibility that they'd come under new management, and that was bound to cause a stir. A bad one for the rest of Kirkwall, if the 'management' happened to have a bit of wit about them.
"I've heard," Sophia said, and indeed, she suspected she knew more about it than most in the city. Probably a good thing, considering that it was soon to be her city. "The city guard has been... less than effective in combating them, I'm afraid. I'm beginning to suspect corruption, but proof is hard to come by. I've been looking into the matter myself. The Coterie's spread is alarming. With so many other issues plaguing the city, we can't afford organized crime to expand like this." She didn't know if her past acquiantance was to blame for this. He'd been exiled for conspiring with the criminals, it was true, but he had been gone from the city for at least six years now. It wasn't as if he could simply come back and assume the mantle of leadership for an organization as powerful as the Coterie... could he?
It was a troubling thought, to say the least, and made Sophia feel like discussing something else. "I'm glad to hear you're doing well. If the Darkspawn should become an issue, I'd be glad to lend a hand." She'd almost prefer fighting darkspawn, or so she thought. Sophia had never crossed blades with one before, but fighting a foe that was so undeniably evil would be refreshing for a change. She'd fought far too many people in Kirkwall already, people who turned to wickedness as a last resort. It was tough to see how she was doing good for the city sometimes.
"My own work increases by the day. It's been difficult of late to get out of the Keep during the day, and while I can leave for the nights, I find it often has unfavorable results." She was currently sporting several sore bruises and healing wounds in various places on her torso and back, times in which she'd let her technique get sloppy due to weariness. Lowtown was more dangerous at night, and after long days in the Keep, she was not at her best. It wouldn't keep her from trying on the nights she felt up to it, though. This would all make her stronger in the end, she thought. For the time in which she most needed strength.
"It... wears on me, but I can't not put forth the effort, not if I'm to rule these people. It's a price I'm willing to pay."
Nostariel's facial expression reflected some measure of concern. That line of thinking, while incredibly noble and worthy, could easily become a trap that would do much more harm than good. "Be careful," she advised gently. "I know a little bit about what it's like to take on too many responsbilities, or to be in charge of people's welfare. It's admirable of you to sacrifice so much for them, but you and I are just people in the end. We have our limits, and overstepping them won't help anyone, if it weakens us when they need us most." She frowned pensively, but then her face brightened a tad.
"If it's physical malady that ails you, I can always help with that, though. I'm trained in more than combat medicine, you know." Long-term healing wasn't exactly her speciality, but she knew enough to treat old wounds like cuts, bruises, and breaks, which were probably more the issue than long-term illness or something of that kind. For the maladies of the heart, there was no cure, and whatever incident with her family troubled Sophia was something that she would have to find her own ways to overcome. Of course, as she herself had learned, allies and friends could help with that, but not in the obvious way.
"I haven't fought alone in quite some time," Sophia was glad to announce. "Lucien's usually able to help. He's... much better at defending himself than I am," she said, with a small smile. It was true; Sophia was much more comfortable picking apart someone else's guard than erecting her own. She wondered what exactly the Warden had been through to give her experience such as she spoke of, but perhaps now was not the right time to ask. Though she was not greatly her elder of the likes of the Grand Cleric, Sophia had decided she would treat her advice much more seriously than she had initially thought to. It was clear that she meant well, and that in itself was a rare enough thing these days.
"I might take you up on that offer of healing, though, if you don't mind. I've been relying on potions thus far, but my last time out I was unfortunate enough to re-injure my side. The potions... haven't been quite enough." At first, she'd thought to be wary of the use of magic, but if there was any worthy use of magic, it was healing. And the woman was a Warden, and therefore worthy of her trust. The rib she'd cracked fighting the dragon had not been quite the same since, healing potions included, and if magic could make that issue go away, she'd take it.
"Of course," Nostariel acquiesced with an easy smile. She hadn't even thought about Sophia's potential aversion to magic actually, and the possibility of such a reaction had only hit her after she'd made the offer. Fortunately, it looked like that particular potential awkwardness had been avoided, and she strove to sidestep another. "Maybe it would be better to go elsewhere, then? I am given to understand that magic is not the most welcomed thing in a Chantry, and I'd not like to cast here if possible." Standing, she straightened some of the loose fabric of her armor, the embedded ring links chiming faintly with the motion. "Perhaps I could see the Keep?"
"Of course," Sophia said, standing as well. "A Grey Warden is always welcome in the Keep."
The towering ceilings of the building still put her vaguely ill at ease, but she was bolstered by this new sense of self, and she'd made a point to wear her Warden's armor here, and to affix the red band of her officer's rank to her arm where it belonged. This part, she was still skeptical of, but today, her weakness would be her armor as well. She didn't bother to hide what she was, and indeed, her staff was strapped prominently to her back, her pale blonde hair presently fixed onto a tail atop her head, baring her pointed ears to even the most cursory scrutiny. She was twice, possibly thrice-damned, depending on who you spoke to, but she wasn't going to apologize for it.
She'd thought to meet Sophia in the Keep today, but the Seneschal, looking somewhat puzzled to see a Warden inquiring, had directed her to the Chantry instead. At present, her obvious oddity in such a place was going to do her a service, as it was bound to reach the Viscount's daughter that an armored elf woman (a mage, at that!) had just walked into the house of the Maker like she belonged there. And they'd let her, were they true to their faith. It would hopefully, however, save her the trouble of having to look for Sophia, as she honestly didn't know where the young woman would be.
Nostariel would have to wait for a moment, however, as the Viscount's daughter was not immediately present. One of the sisters had informed her of the Warden's arrival, of course, but Sophia took an extra moment to herself, kneeling as she was before a particularly beautifully carved statue of Andraste, up the stairs to Nostariel's right. She wiped a hand across her eyes, which Nostariel would likely be able to notice were slightly more red than usual, her overall appearance a tad more disheveled than her usual self, though she was good at hiding it at this point. She found herself wishing she was in armor again, her mother's sword comfortably seated upon her back.
Having collected herself as best she was able, Sophia rose to her feet slowly, taking a moment to brush off her skirts before she turned and strode towards the railing, spotting the armored elven Warden below, and waving to catch her attention. Her first attempt to speak went poorly, the woman's name catching in her throat, which she had foolishly neglected to clear, but the second try came out much better, if not sounding entirely like her. "Hello, Nostariel. Come join me? It's much more comfortable to speak up here, if that's what you'd like." That was true enough. The entryway had little more than wooden benches along the walls, and an empty expanse of stone flooring in between, whereas the upper levels had cushioned chairs and couches, a warm fire to sit next to.. and a much more private setting.
Sophia certainly trusted all of the Sisters enough to speak freely around them, but if the Warden had indeed come here to speak with her, it seemed best to arrange a private setting. And Sophia had no reason to suspect otherwise; she had not seen Nostariel within these walls before.
A wave and a call from above drew Nostariel's attention, and she glanced upward to catch sight of Sophia. Something seemed... off about her, but from this distance, it was impossible to put her finger on exactly what that might be, so the elf lifted a hand in acknowledgement and headed for the stairs. She supposed that what she had come to discuss could be done just as well publicly or privately, but perhaps it would be best not to make the nature of their work together and with Lucien the subject of gossip. Saying that one was trying to 'clean up Kirkwall' was all well and good, but few people had need of the less-glamorous details of the occupation. It was highly unlikely that anyone really wanted to know how many people their future Viscountess and her allies had to wade through to get there.
Ascending the stone staircase, Nostariel found herself in a much cozier sort of area. Here, the ceilings were not so high, nor the statues so... large and golden. It was a little ostentatious, all the wealth on clear display, between the rich red tapestries and the massive, aureate figure of Andraste looming over the whole thing. But then, she supposed that when your primary attendees and donors had quite a lot of wealth and splendor themselves, you had to make them feel humbled somehow. At any rate, the furnishings here were comfortable-looking, not so different from the ones she recalled being in the Circle library.
Sophia herself, however, was another matter. What from a distance was simply something vaguely off was up close evidently some form of distress. Her eyes were red-rimmed as though she'd been weeping (and Nostariel certainly knew what that looked like), and her overall appearance was less put-together than it had been on any other occasion the two had met. The Warden paused, unsure if their current relationship would make an inquiry too personal. She admittedly didn't know much about what nobility did in situations like this, so she consulted her only possible source for the proper etiquette: what would Lucien or Ashton do? If the answer seemed to be the same, it was probably the right one. That in mind, she ventured the question.
"Sophia? Are you... is something the matter? If you would prefer I leave for now and come back tomorrow, it can wait." She stopped just short of asking if there was anything she could do. Though that was her instinct, she wasn't quite sure it was her business.
Sophia actually smiled as she shook her head, and she wasn't really sure why. Words her father used to say more often came to mind, something about how her mother always had the most radiant of smiles, and how when she grew up, she was going to look just like her, be just as beautiful, and so she should smile just as much. There wasn't really much to smile about now, but she did it anyway. A Viscountess did not allow her personal issues to overwhelm her, especially not when speaking with guests.
"No, please stay," she said, taking a seat in a crimson colored armchair, not allowing her mood to affect her posture. "It's just some family issues," she explained, dabbing at her eyes again to prevent any more tears from coming out of them. "My brother is somewhat of a handful," she added, and that would probably be all the explanation she would offer. There was more to it than that, of course, but it had been another outburst from Saemus that had spilled it over the top, and in a moment of shameful weakness she allowed her stress to break through her walls, and fled the Keep for her sanctuary here, only to find that Andraste offered scant comfort to her. There was little to do but rebuild the walls, and act like they'd never collapsed in the first place.
"Talking will help, I think," she said, still trying to hold a smile, though it was a bit of a sad smile at this point. "How are you? It's been some time since last we spoke."
"I see," Nostariel said quietly, though really, she didn't. She had no idea what it was like to have a family, and she supposed it could be as stressful as calming, sometimes. Either way, it seemed as though Sophia was content to speak of other things for the moment, and if that was her wish, the Warden would respect it. Moving to sit in a different chair close by Sophia's, the elf settled herself gingerly in place before answering, tracing a finger along the pattern in the rich material.
"I am... doing rather well, actually. Darkspawn activity is starting to pick up again, but as of yet, it isn't anything that I can't handle on my own or with a little assistance." Her duties also seemed less laborious, perhaps, because she was trying, bit by bit, to embrace them rather than merely tolerating them. An incomplete process, but one that helped by degrees. "I came to tell you though... the Coterie's been growing recently, and Lucien tells me they've become a great deal bolder. More and more of his jobs involve dealing with them, and apparently the Alienage is threatened by them as well as Darktown, now." She had no particular explanation to give for the new rush of criminal activity, but there was always the possibility that they'd come under new management, and that was bound to cause a stir. A bad one for the rest of Kirkwall, if the 'management' happened to have a bit of wit about them.
"I've heard," Sophia said, and indeed, she suspected she knew more about it than most in the city. Probably a good thing, considering that it was soon to be her city. "The city guard has been... less than effective in combating them, I'm afraid. I'm beginning to suspect corruption, but proof is hard to come by. I've been looking into the matter myself. The Coterie's spread is alarming. With so many other issues plaguing the city, we can't afford organized crime to expand like this." She didn't know if her past acquiantance was to blame for this. He'd been exiled for conspiring with the criminals, it was true, but he had been gone from the city for at least six years now. It wasn't as if he could simply come back and assume the mantle of leadership for an organization as powerful as the Coterie... could he?
It was a troubling thought, to say the least, and made Sophia feel like discussing something else. "I'm glad to hear you're doing well. If the Darkspawn should become an issue, I'd be glad to lend a hand." She'd almost prefer fighting darkspawn, or so she thought. Sophia had never crossed blades with one before, but fighting a foe that was so undeniably evil would be refreshing for a change. She'd fought far too many people in Kirkwall already, people who turned to wickedness as a last resort. It was tough to see how she was doing good for the city sometimes.
"My own work increases by the day. It's been difficult of late to get out of the Keep during the day, and while I can leave for the nights, I find it often has unfavorable results." She was currently sporting several sore bruises and healing wounds in various places on her torso and back, times in which she'd let her technique get sloppy due to weariness. Lowtown was more dangerous at night, and after long days in the Keep, she was not at her best. It wouldn't keep her from trying on the nights she felt up to it, though. This would all make her stronger in the end, she thought. For the time in which she most needed strength.
"It... wears on me, but I can't not put forth the effort, not if I'm to rule these people. It's a price I'm willing to pay."
Nostariel's facial expression reflected some measure of concern. That line of thinking, while incredibly noble and worthy, could easily become a trap that would do much more harm than good. "Be careful," she advised gently. "I know a little bit about what it's like to take on too many responsbilities, or to be in charge of people's welfare. It's admirable of you to sacrifice so much for them, but you and I are just people in the end. We have our limits, and overstepping them won't help anyone, if it weakens us when they need us most." She frowned pensively, but then her face brightened a tad.
"If it's physical malady that ails you, I can always help with that, though. I'm trained in more than combat medicine, you know." Long-term healing wasn't exactly her speciality, but she knew enough to treat old wounds like cuts, bruises, and breaks, which were probably more the issue than long-term illness or something of that kind. For the maladies of the heart, there was no cure, and whatever incident with her family troubled Sophia was something that she would have to find her own ways to overcome. Of course, as she herself had learned, allies and friends could help with that, but not in the obvious way.
"I haven't fought alone in quite some time," Sophia was glad to announce. "Lucien's usually able to help. He's... much better at defending himself than I am," she said, with a small smile. It was true; Sophia was much more comfortable picking apart someone else's guard than erecting her own. She wondered what exactly the Warden had been through to give her experience such as she spoke of, but perhaps now was not the right time to ask. Though she was not greatly her elder of the likes of the Grand Cleric, Sophia had decided she would treat her advice much more seriously than she had initially thought to. It was clear that she meant well, and that in itself was a rare enough thing these days.
"I might take you up on that offer of healing, though, if you don't mind. I've been relying on potions thus far, but my last time out I was unfortunate enough to re-injure my side. The potions... haven't been quite enough." At first, she'd thought to be wary of the use of magic, but if there was any worthy use of magic, it was healing. And the woman was a Warden, and therefore worthy of her trust. The rib she'd cracked fighting the dragon had not been quite the same since, healing potions included, and if magic could make that issue go away, she'd take it.
"Of course," Nostariel acquiesced with an easy smile. She hadn't even thought about Sophia's potential aversion to magic actually, and the possibility of such a reaction had only hit her after she'd made the offer. Fortunately, it looked like that particular potential awkwardness had been avoided, and she strove to sidestep another. "Maybe it would be better to go elsewhere, then? I am given to understand that magic is not the most welcomed thing in a Chantry, and I'd not like to cast here if possible." Standing, she straightened some of the loose fabric of her armor, the embedded ring links chiming faintly with the motion. "Perhaps I could see the Keep?"
"Of course," Sophia said, standing as well. "A Grey Warden is always welcome in the Keep."