Nostariel descended the steps to the Alienage with perhaps more care than was strictly called for. Then again, she was practicing with Ashton at least three times a week, and Amalia was worse. She was quite certain that her body was not meant to move in such ways, but the Qunari made the moving meditation forms look so effortless, no matter how impossible they were for anyone else. So she was maybe a little bit sore, but it wasn't so bad. She could feel different muscles, long-neglected, developing considerably, and she could already bend and fold in ways she would have laughed at trying before, so there was definitely something to this self-improvement journey she was on.
Speaking of journies, Amalia had recently informed her that Ithilian had returned from his, which was quite interesting. She hadn't been sure that he ever would, really, but then perhaps he'd found what he was looking for in Ferelden after all. She was a bit put-out by the fact that he hadn't seen fit to inform her of this himself, but then it was only a recent development, and he certainly had things to do. As did she strangely enough, and the Warden was no longer so easy to find as she once had been. Of course, anyone who wanted to could leave a message for her with the bartender, but she certainly spent more of her time out than in these days.
Waving over to Amalia and Aurora, who were apparently training at the moment, she decided she needed to talk to the other young mage at some point in the near future-- it seemed they were both carving out paths for themselves other than what their magic would suggest, and also that much of their help with this endeavor was coming from the same places. How strange, that a human and an elf, and apostate and a Warden, would both turn to a Qunari for the solace they could not quite find themselves. Naturally, she had Ashton too, but she couldn't deny that Amalia was definitely helping. She didn't linger to interrupt, though, knowing that it would not be appreciated by the demanding instructor of the pair, and instead cast her glance around for a different familiar face.
Huh. Not up the tree. That was a bit odd. Perhaps he was out today? She might have to go ask the hahren, or else wait until the Qunari wasn't busy anymore.
Ithilian had just finished rearranging his newly acquired home, and what little it currently possessed, into a manner that pleased him well enough. Of course, it was unlikely that any house surrounded on three sides by other houses and stuffed into the corner of a cramped Alienage would please him, but at least he'd gotten the furniture arranged in a sensible manner. As satisfied as he was going to be, the elf pushed his way back outside and sank into the wooden chair he'd situated near his front door, taking up a steadily shrinking hunk of wood in one hand, and a carving knife in the other. The last one hadn't really looked like a halla when it was complete. This one would be better.
If nothing else, it was something to do while he kept an eye on the Alienage's visitors, currently just Amalia's shem student. Or so he thought, before he looked up to see Nostariel peering up the vhenadahl at his usual spot. "Warden!" he called out, before resuming his carving. "I thought to find you in the Hanged Man yesterday, but you were not there." The way he said it implied that he was somewhat pleased by it. "I'm glad you came by." He stopped carving abruptly, looking up towards her. "Have you ever seen a halla before?"
A call drew her eyes some distance away, where she found the person she'd come looking for. At the mention of her absence from her usual spot, she smiled, a bit shyly, perhaps a smidgen embarrassed for reasons that were only partially clear to her. Jogging past Amalia and Aurora, she came to a stop in front of him, off slightly to one side so as not to be impolite for standing while the other was seated. The question, such as it was, caught her off-guard, and she had to think about it. "Not a live one, no," she replied at last, shaking her head. "There was a Dalish in the Wardens, my squad... Venlas. He was a very talented artist. He often drew the members of his family and their halla. But I've not had occasion to see one up close."
Though she'd been to visit Feynriel many times, the Sabrae clan no longer had their halla, apparently the primary reason why they were still stranded so close to Kirkwall. Sometimes, she wondered if there might not be some other reason, but if there ws, she knew it not.
Ithilian had no need to ask what had become of this Dalish. He'd joined the Grey Wardens, and died for a worthy cause. That was enough. "They're magnificent creatures. Not possessed of same kind of brute strength a horse can have, but graceful, elegant, noble. They stink less, too." It took him a moment to remember why he'd asked the question in the first place, but when he did, he raised the hunk of wood in explanation. "I'm hoping this will eventually look somewhat like one. My last attempt looked more like a horned mabari." The good side of his mouth twitched upward at that; it had actually been a rather funny looking creation. "I'd invite you inside, but I'm afraid there's only one chair in there, too."
He supposed there was more explanation in order, regarding his return in the first place. He himself had thought for a time that he would stay in Ferelden, rejoining the Dalish and leaving these city elves to their fate, but in the end he hadn't been able to do it. No doubt the way two of the Alienage's denizens would think of him influenced that choice. In all honesty, had he not met Lia and believed she could eventually have something better than a life under the heel of shemlen, he wouldn't have given a second thought to returning to Kirkwall. As much as he wanted these elves to become his people, many of them never would. They were afraid, and their fear held them in place. There was only so much he do by himself to alleviate that fear.
"It's been... an interesting year," he said at last. "I will always carry a piece of my former life with me, but I do not think it binds me any longer. I... said my goodbyes. I thought to stay with the Relaferin for a time, but they do not need me as the people here do. I may rejoin them someday, but for now my efforts will be directed here."
He was tempted to say that she looked better, but refrained. She seemed to be carrying herself somewhat different than when they'd first met, and expected he looked much the same. Both were able to stand taller once they'd finally shrugged the weights from their backs. "How has your own year treated you?" he asked, interested.
"Interesting might be the right word," she agreed, though the bright smile she assumed made it seem somehow inadequate to her purpose. She shrugged and chose to sit on the ground, assuming the usual lotus potision that Amalia used. It was actually much more comfortable than anything else once you could do it without pulling something. Her staff, she laid across her knees, still not anywhere near confident enough to carry around a bow as though she knew how to use it. "Different, certainly. I feel... better. Lighter." She hadn't yet been able to make peace with all her failings, nor say all the goodbyes she needed to, but she knew somehow that she wasn't ready for all of that yet. There would be more than one place to see, more than one farewell to utter into empty air, before she could call herself done with those.
It was a thought that she turned over for a moment, but then left be. It was for another time. "I'm glad to hear it, though. I think... the spirit of this place is a little steelier when you're in it." Her tone was almost teasing, for certainly there was a way in which the statement was an obvious one. He acted quite often as both blade and shield for the Alienage, but she referred more to the fact that those actions had some noticeable effect on the other elves here. Surely, that much at least was good for them.
"There's something coming, too," she said quietly, glancing down at her hands. "I'm not sure what, but sometimes I swear that if you look closely enough, it troubles Amalia, too. She won't speak of it to me, though. Whatever it is, it's good that they'll have you when it comes." She could not express her foreboding in the right way, and she ended up shrugging one shoulder. It might be nothing, in which case she could laugh at herself later, but... were such things ever really nothing here? Kirkwall drew trouble like a candle-flame drew moths.
Ithilian troubled Amalia, he knew that much, but he made no mention of it. "I'd be disappointed if there wasn't something coming, honestly. No society should be willing to simply exist as this one does. It won't last, and when it crumbles, I'll make sure the elves here have my protection." He meant Lia in particular, but that too he did not say. He had said his hello to her a few days ago, to which she'd simply behaved as though he'd left for a day rather than a year and some months. She didn't need him, he knew. She was quickly learning to take care of herself. Still, he could tell that she was very glad to have him back.
"The Alienage could stand to see you more often, you know," he suggested, almost gently, "and not only for your healing. They need to see strength, and you're one of the few elves in Kirkwall who has it. They would look up to you. I can protect them, but... I intimidate many of them. I'm afraid my face is not so pretty as yours." He shrugged. "They need examples to follow is all, and most of mine are... not ideal, for many of them."
She would likely make a fine Keeper as well, he imagined, but he'd keep that to himself. Her status as a Warden would prevent her from ever joining the Dalish even if she wished to, and it was speculation all the same. He'd given enough compliments to someone without vallaslin for one day. Wouldn't want it to become a habit.
Nostariel snorted softly at that, shaking her head. "A strange criterion for strength," she replied with some humor. Honestly, he probably wouldn't intimidate them so badly if he treated them more like he treated her. She'd been intimidated, too, upon first meeting him, but she wasn't sure if she should tell him that it was his attitude that did it, not his face. Regardless, he seemed to be aware that this was at least part of it, and so she let it slide without comment.
"I'm here more than I used to be," she pointed out. "Though admittedly my business is mostly with Amalia. If you think it would help, I suppose I could make an effort, but I'm not sure what I could do or say. I'm used to leading Wardens to battle and death-- it has been long since I've needed to know how to reassure those who are alive and in little danger of a sword to their bellies." It was most assuredly true that elves were second-class citizens in Kirkwall, but the abuses they suffered were not usually of such a blatant kind as she would know how to handle. She suspected what was called for here might be more like she would have been eventually expected to display with younger mages at the Circle. She'd never had much of a chance to do so, however, as she'd been scarcely more than a child herself when she'd left it.
Surely, though, something her mentor had taught her might remain, and if it would be of use to someone, she would do her best to draw upon it. For now, she stood, brushing the road-dust off her breeches. The afternoon drew long, and she was soon due for another lesson. Amalia had her up first thing in the morning, and Ashton's tutelage tended to comprise the transition to twilight. Learning to shoot with poor visibility, or something like that. "It's been good to see you, Ithilian. I'm sure we'll run into one another again. For now, stay well. Ah-- I have learned the words for this." She brightened; Nostariel had been studying the remnants of the Dalish language alongside Feynriel, who confessed to finding it much easier to learn with a friend. "Dareth shiral, lethallin." To her credit, her pronunciation wasn't bad at all. He nodded in return, smiling as best he was able to.
Raising a hand in farewell, she headed back for the entrance to the Alienage. Places to go, people to see, and for once, she was glad of it.
Speaking of journies, Amalia had recently informed her that Ithilian had returned from his, which was quite interesting. She hadn't been sure that he ever would, really, but then perhaps he'd found what he was looking for in Ferelden after all. She was a bit put-out by the fact that he hadn't seen fit to inform her of this himself, but then it was only a recent development, and he certainly had things to do. As did she strangely enough, and the Warden was no longer so easy to find as she once had been. Of course, anyone who wanted to could leave a message for her with the bartender, but she certainly spent more of her time out than in these days.
Waving over to Amalia and Aurora, who were apparently training at the moment, she decided she needed to talk to the other young mage at some point in the near future-- it seemed they were both carving out paths for themselves other than what their magic would suggest, and also that much of their help with this endeavor was coming from the same places. How strange, that a human and an elf, and apostate and a Warden, would both turn to a Qunari for the solace they could not quite find themselves. Naturally, she had Ashton too, but she couldn't deny that Amalia was definitely helping. She didn't linger to interrupt, though, knowing that it would not be appreciated by the demanding instructor of the pair, and instead cast her glance around for a different familiar face.
Huh. Not up the tree. That was a bit odd. Perhaps he was out today? She might have to go ask the hahren, or else wait until the Qunari wasn't busy anymore.
Ithilian had just finished rearranging his newly acquired home, and what little it currently possessed, into a manner that pleased him well enough. Of course, it was unlikely that any house surrounded on three sides by other houses and stuffed into the corner of a cramped Alienage would please him, but at least he'd gotten the furniture arranged in a sensible manner. As satisfied as he was going to be, the elf pushed his way back outside and sank into the wooden chair he'd situated near his front door, taking up a steadily shrinking hunk of wood in one hand, and a carving knife in the other. The last one hadn't really looked like a halla when it was complete. This one would be better.
If nothing else, it was something to do while he kept an eye on the Alienage's visitors, currently just Amalia's shem student. Or so he thought, before he looked up to see Nostariel peering up the vhenadahl at his usual spot. "Warden!" he called out, before resuming his carving. "I thought to find you in the Hanged Man yesterday, but you were not there." The way he said it implied that he was somewhat pleased by it. "I'm glad you came by." He stopped carving abruptly, looking up towards her. "Have you ever seen a halla before?"
A call drew her eyes some distance away, where she found the person she'd come looking for. At the mention of her absence from her usual spot, she smiled, a bit shyly, perhaps a smidgen embarrassed for reasons that were only partially clear to her. Jogging past Amalia and Aurora, she came to a stop in front of him, off slightly to one side so as not to be impolite for standing while the other was seated. The question, such as it was, caught her off-guard, and she had to think about it. "Not a live one, no," she replied at last, shaking her head. "There was a Dalish in the Wardens, my squad... Venlas. He was a very talented artist. He often drew the members of his family and their halla. But I've not had occasion to see one up close."
Though she'd been to visit Feynriel many times, the Sabrae clan no longer had their halla, apparently the primary reason why they were still stranded so close to Kirkwall. Sometimes, she wondered if there might not be some other reason, but if there ws, she knew it not.
Ithilian had no need to ask what had become of this Dalish. He'd joined the Grey Wardens, and died for a worthy cause. That was enough. "They're magnificent creatures. Not possessed of same kind of brute strength a horse can have, but graceful, elegant, noble. They stink less, too." It took him a moment to remember why he'd asked the question in the first place, but when he did, he raised the hunk of wood in explanation. "I'm hoping this will eventually look somewhat like one. My last attempt looked more like a horned mabari." The good side of his mouth twitched upward at that; it had actually been a rather funny looking creation. "I'd invite you inside, but I'm afraid there's only one chair in there, too."
He supposed there was more explanation in order, regarding his return in the first place. He himself had thought for a time that he would stay in Ferelden, rejoining the Dalish and leaving these city elves to their fate, but in the end he hadn't been able to do it. No doubt the way two of the Alienage's denizens would think of him influenced that choice. In all honesty, had he not met Lia and believed she could eventually have something better than a life under the heel of shemlen, he wouldn't have given a second thought to returning to Kirkwall. As much as he wanted these elves to become his people, many of them never would. They were afraid, and their fear held them in place. There was only so much he do by himself to alleviate that fear.
"It's been... an interesting year," he said at last. "I will always carry a piece of my former life with me, but I do not think it binds me any longer. I... said my goodbyes. I thought to stay with the Relaferin for a time, but they do not need me as the people here do. I may rejoin them someday, but for now my efforts will be directed here."
He was tempted to say that she looked better, but refrained. She seemed to be carrying herself somewhat different than when they'd first met, and expected he looked much the same. Both were able to stand taller once they'd finally shrugged the weights from their backs. "How has your own year treated you?" he asked, interested.
"Interesting might be the right word," she agreed, though the bright smile she assumed made it seem somehow inadequate to her purpose. She shrugged and chose to sit on the ground, assuming the usual lotus potision that Amalia used. It was actually much more comfortable than anything else once you could do it without pulling something. Her staff, she laid across her knees, still not anywhere near confident enough to carry around a bow as though she knew how to use it. "Different, certainly. I feel... better. Lighter." She hadn't yet been able to make peace with all her failings, nor say all the goodbyes she needed to, but she knew somehow that she wasn't ready for all of that yet. There would be more than one place to see, more than one farewell to utter into empty air, before she could call herself done with those.
It was a thought that she turned over for a moment, but then left be. It was for another time. "I'm glad to hear it, though. I think... the spirit of this place is a little steelier when you're in it." Her tone was almost teasing, for certainly there was a way in which the statement was an obvious one. He acted quite often as both blade and shield for the Alienage, but she referred more to the fact that those actions had some noticeable effect on the other elves here. Surely, that much at least was good for them.
"There's something coming, too," she said quietly, glancing down at her hands. "I'm not sure what, but sometimes I swear that if you look closely enough, it troubles Amalia, too. She won't speak of it to me, though. Whatever it is, it's good that they'll have you when it comes." She could not express her foreboding in the right way, and she ended up shrugging one shoulder. It might be nothing, in which case she could laugh at herself later, but... were such things ever really nothing here? Kirkwall drew trouble like a candle-flame drew moths.
Ithilian troubled Amalia, he knew that much, but he made no mention of it. "I'd be disappointed if there wasn't something coming, honestly. No society should be willing to simply exist as this one does. It won't last, and when it crumbles, I'll make sure the elves here have my protection." He meant Lia in particular, but that too he did not say. He had said his hello to her a few days ago, to which she'd simply behaved as though he'd left for a day rather than a year and some months. She didn't need him, he knew. She was quickly learning to take care of herself. Still, he could tell that she was very glad to have him back.
"The Alienage could stand to see you more often, you know," he suggested, almost gently, "and not only for your healing. They need to see strength, and you're one of the few elves in Kirkwall who has it. They would look up to you. I can protect them, but... I intimidate many of them. I'm afraid my face is not so pretty as yours." He shrugged. "They need examples to follow is all, and most of mine are... not ideal, for many of them."
She would likely make a fine Keeper as well, he imagined, but he'd keep that to himself. Her status as a Warden would prevent her from ever joining the Dalish even if she wished to, and it was speculation all the same. He'd given enough compliments to someone without vallaslin for one day. Wouldn't want it to become a habit.
Nostariel snorted softly at that, shaking her head. "A strange criterion for strength," she replied with some humor. Honestly, he probably wouldn't intimidate them so badly if he treated them more like he treated her. She'd been intimidated, too, upon first meeting him, but she wasn't sure if she should tell him that it was his attitude that did it, not his face. Regardless, he seemed to be aware that this was at least part of it, and so she let it slide without comment.
"I'm here more than I used to be," she pointed out. "Though admittedly my business is mostly with Amalia. If you think it would help, I suppose I could make an effort, but I'm not sure what I could do or say. I'm used to leading Wardens to battle and death-- it has been long since I've needed to know how to reassure those who are alive and in little danger of a sword to their bellies." It was most assuredly true that elves were second-class citizens in Kirkwall, but the abuses they suffered were not usually of such a blatant kind as she would know how to handle. She suspected what was called for here might be more like she would have been eventually expected to display with younger mages at the Circle. She'd never had much of a chance to do so, however, as she'd been scarcely more than a child herself when she'd left it.
Surely, though, something her mentor had taught her might remain, and if it would be of use to someone, she would do her best to draw upon it. For now, she stood, brushing the road-dust off her breeches. The afternoon drew long, and she was soon due for another lesson. Amalia had her up first thing in the morning, and Ashton's tutelage tended to comprise the transition to twilight. Learning to shoot with poor visibility, or something like that. "It's been good to see you, Ithilian. I'm sure we'll run into one another again. For now, stay well. Ah-- I have learned the words for this." She brightened; Nostariel had been studying the remnants of the Dalish language alongside Feynriel, who confessed to finding it much easier to learn with a friend. "Dareth shiral, lethallin." To her credit, her pronunciation wasn't bad at all. He nodded in return, smiling as best he was able to.
Raising a hand in farewell, she headed back for the entrance to the Alienage. Places to go, people to see, and for once, she was glad of it.