This was a foreign pain to Ithilian.
The Dalish hunter was beginning to find that years upon years of straining his body, receiving injuries, and not having all of them well healed by a professional like Nostariel, was taking its toll. He felt stiff in the mornings, or after any period of extended stillness, pains in some of the joints, scarring that went deep. Nothing to be ashamed of, but something that couldn't be ignored, either.
He couldn't continue with this lifestyle forever, but for now, he had to. There were still a great many people that depended on him, that looked to him as an example, that would falter and suffer without him. So if that meant he had to sacrifice a bit of his pride to keep himself functional, he would do it without a moment's hesitation.
To that end, Amalia's physical lessons with Nostariel had acquired two new members. Ithilian was presently contorting his limbs in a way he had simply never thought to attempt before, grimacing like a fool, while Lia did so as well beside him. The girl did much better in matters involving flexibility, but far less so in anything that required strength. Now that she was old enough, and the circumstances obviously warranted it, it seemed prudent to allow Amalia to strengthen her as well.
Ithilian was not opposed to the idea of Lia taking over a shop in Ashton's absence, but he would be damned if he allowed her to do so unprepared. He couldn't help her run a business, as he had no experience himself, but he could make sure she was strong enough to ensure that nothing like what had happened before in Lowtown ever came to pass again. There were a number of people he would be asking to assist, at least at first. Amalia, Nostariel, Aurora when she returned, even Lucien if he could spare the time. The theory was to demonstrate that individuals not to be trifled with were interested in the protection of this store, to ward off hateful cowards who would spite it simply because of the pointy-eared girl behind the counter.
"I'm starting to think," Ithilian said, his face turning rather red from the strain, "that I actually seek out pain." It was also possible he was just doing this wrong, in which case he hoped Amalia would correct him.
âAn interesting hypothesis,â Amalia replied, a small smile flickering over her face. âI canât seem to think of any evidence to the contrary.â She paused a moment as she walked by him, tipping her head to the side, her very long ponytail falling over her shoulder. She was quite casually-dressed on this particular day, nothing more complicated than ordinary loose trousers and a sleeveless blue tunic. Her feet, as they often seemed to be, were bare, and she curled them absently into the worn sandstone of the Alienage floor. âDonât force itâthe goal is to build flexibility slowly, not break your spine in half.â Her tone was colored faintly with amusement, but she was indeed serious in what she said. Perhaps she should not have had him attempt a backbend yet.
Given Auroraâs absence, Nostariel was far and away the most flexible of the lot, having been doing this kind of thing under Amaliaâs instruction for several years, but Lia wasnât bad for a beginner, either. As for Ithilian, well⊠perhaps the less said, the better, for the moment. Still, this was something that might save his life one day, being able to bend far enough that a blade went through air instead of his throat, and being able to move this way tended to keep muscles and tendons in more youthful condition longer. Though she was not far from entering her fourth decade, Amalia neither looked nor felt any different than she had five years before, particularly.
Stopping to correct Nostarielâs form by picking up the womanâs arm by the wrist and moving it back a few inches, she placed it back down. Fortunately, this would not provide a balance issue for the Warden, however temporary. âIf you can, transition into a stand. Weâll work on your legs next.â
Nostariel was certainly accustomed to this sort of activity by now, but that wasnât to say it was easy for her. Every time she thought she might be close to mastering the next set of exercises, Amalia had a new, more difficult one for her to work on. But sheâd never felt this comfortable in her own skin in her entire life, and it was most certainly a welcome compliment to her psychological state of euphoria lately. She felt, as a whole, balanced, both literally, proven to be true when she was able to give Amalia control of one of her arms without wobbling or falling over, and more figuratively, which was perhaps best shown by the near-permanent smile on her face.
At the other womanâs instruction, Nostariel moved out of her back-bend, aligning her vertebrae one over another in a steady sequence until she was standing entirely upright, her hands resting loosely at her sides, the last of her old breath exhaled before she intook a new one. At least they werenât sparring right nowâNostariel usually wound up sporting a lot of bruises when that happened, and it would put a bit of a damper on her current mood.
Ithilian groaned in relief when he was finally in a normal, upright position again, though his own transition back there had been significantly less smooth than Nostariel's, as had Lia's. She was struggling a good deal with Amalia's regime, but she was trying fairly hard to hide that. To be expected of a teenager, Ithilian figured. He had been much the same at sixteen. He wiped the sweat from his brow, tugging his shirt away from his chest, where it seemed inclined to cling.
It was then that he noted the figure entering the Alienage, and immediately identified him as someone who was not a regular denizen. He carried several heavy-looking packs on his back and held a walking stick equal in height to him in his right hand, identifying him as a traveler. He was dressed plainly, dark pants tucked into well worn boots, with a light tunic unbuttoned halfway down the chest and sleeves rolled up around his elbows. He was an elf, and Ithilian would have thought him a complete stranger if not for the tattoos on his face, marking him as Dalish. He knew those marks well, three thick black lines ascending away from between his brows, a patch covering his chin, with dots in a line roughly perpendicular to his cheek bones.
He smiled when he caught sight of Ithilian, gleaming rows of white teeth. He seemed less surprised to find Ithilian than Ithilian was to find him, but still a bit shocked. "By the Dread Wolf, Ithilian, you're even uglier than I thought you'd be."
Ithilian was forced to momentarily abandon Amalia's routine, approaching the elven man somewhat slack-jawed, though by the time he'd come within arm's length of him he had determined that yes, this was the man he thought it was. "And you're still the pretty boy you always were, Emerion." His friend grinned broadly in response, and the pair clasped arms, Ithilian obviously still somewhat surprised at his presence. "It's been... a very long time." He wasn't even sure of the years, but the two had both been late teenagers when they were separated. "What are you doing here?"
"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm visiting an old friend. Took some leave from the clan, the Keeper isn't going anywhere just yet. I ran across Marethari's bunch, and they suggested I might stop here for a while. She said you've been busy here. I thought you might welcome another hand." It was somewhat clear that he was still getting used to the sight of Ithilian's uncovered head. In the years before he'd left, Ithilian had almost never walked about without the headwrap.
"Marethari did not lie," Ithilian answered. "I've been settled here for years now. This is... unexpected. Not unwelcome, though. I... did not think to see you again, to be honest." And he certainly hadn't planned on it. Ithilian wondered how, if at all, Emerion had changed. Ithilian was certainly a different person entirely when he was a teenager. Not to mention Emerion was a mage, First to a Keeper, and though he didn't exactly look as such at the moment, Ithilian wondered if his old friend had any experience hiding his magic away from the clans.
"It seems as though I haven't caught you at your best," Emerion teased, poking fun at Ithilian's state from Amalia's workout. He turned his attention to those Ithilian had been with, or more precisely, to Nostariel. "Is that a Warden band, my lady? It's a delight to make your acquaintance. I am Emerion, of the Dalish, and old partner in crime of my hideous friend here."
Nostariel had heard enough of the conversation to have caught the manâs name before he gave it and also that he was a friend of Ithilianâs, and the tattoos made it obvious enough how that had come about. She supposed they must have been clan-kin to one another at some point⊠though she had believed that all of them were killed by the Darkspawn. Ithilian seemed surprised to see this Emerion, but not surprised enough to have thought him dead, so there must be something else going on there. Either way, she smiled at their familiarityâthis was clearly a fortuitous meeting, and for someone so formerly haunted by the past, to have a figure walk right out of it in a positive sense could only be good news.
She was admittedly somewhat surprised to be the first addressed of the group; she definitely considered Ithilian a close friend of hers, but she was standing next to two of the few people in the world who were closer to him still. Though⊠there was no way for Emerion to know that, and she recalled something about the Dalish having a high regard for Wardens, so her confusion was short-lived, and her smile morphed into a slight ducking of her head and a modest wave of the hand. âIt is, but I am no Warden in present company. Only a healer and a friend. It is a pleasure to meet you, Emerion. I am Nostariel Turtega, presently of Kirkwall.â
"Was that your clinic I passed by on my way here, then?" Emerion asked, appearing pleasantly surprised. "It's always good to find another healer, the world has too few." Ithilian remembered Emerion's healing magic coming along nicely when he left, and he didn't doubt his skill had only improved since then.
"This is Lia," Ithilian said, when it appeared as though the girl was actually somewhat shy for once. She didn't look uncomfortable, like Emerion scared her or anything, but she obviously knew she was looking at a proud example of the Dalish, one of the few she'd had the opportunity to meet. "A close friend of mine," Ithilian added, in case there was any confusion. "We met not long after I arrived."
"Hi," Lia said, offering her own little wave. "You and Ithilian were friends?"
"We were. The best of friends, actually. We grew up together, but before I was twenty I had to leave for another clan, and several countries separated us."
"Why'd you have to leave?"
Emerion smiled slightly at the question. "Let's just say that certain gifts are not feared among the Dalish as they are among shemlen. The clans share these gifts, and those who carry them, equally." He tilted his head towards the staff he carried, and then Lia understood.
"Oh. I see. Well, it's nice to meet you, Emerion."
"And you as well, Lia."
Amalia was disinclined to introduce herself when it was evidently not solicited, and so she busied herself for the moment with gathering the few supplies sheâd brought outside for the purpose of instruction. Sheâd been thinking about taking them through some empty-handed forms, focused especially for Lia and Nostariel on disarming and throwing larger opponents. Not that knowing such things would be at all useless for Ithilian either. But it seemed that for today at least, activity would be cut short.
Inductively, she had no reason to believe that a Dalish elf, from the very same clan that Ithilian was from, would see anything past the shape of her ears, and while she was perfectly capable of dealing with that sort of reaction, she was not necessarily going to volunteer to do so without a reason. Her supplies collected, she nodded over to the others. âThe day after tomorrow, if youâve the time to spare.â Turning to Ithilian specifically, she continued. âPolâs unsure about the new patrol up near the fishmonger's. Iâll be tailing them tonight, should you wish to come.â Flicking her glance briefly to Emerion, she dipped her head, but said nothing, instead deciding to make herself scarce by heading back into her house.
Ithilian was not really sure how to respond, and so the chance eluded him before he could grasp any words, and Amalia was gone. He had been expecting, on some level, for that to go awkwardly, but not that poorly. Emerion seemed to regard Amalia as a curiosity more than anything, and he looked to Ithilian for explanation once she had departed. "Friend of yours?"
"Lethallan, actually. That is a long story." Emerion briefly raised his eyebrows, but took the information more or less in stride.
"Well, I may be around for a while, so perhaps there will be time to tell it. We've got a lot of catching up to do. For now, though, perhaps I should see the hahren regarding a place to stay. I don't intend to impose myself on any of you for that long, after all." Ithilian nodded. It wouldn't have been a problem to house Emerion for a while, if he needed it, but to be honest, he wasn't sure how he would feel about him staying for an extended duration. He wasn't going to ask him to leave, though. He was, after all, and old friend, and deserved better than that.
"I'll show you to him," Ithilian volunteered, gesturing for Emerion to follow. To Nostariel and Lia, he offered a somewhat apologetic look, as the arrival of his friend here had cut short their time with Amalia for the day. He could almost feel Lia's eyes on Emerion's back as they walked away.
This was going to be interesting.
The Dalish hunter was beginning to find that years upon years of straining his body, receiving injuries, and not having all of them well healed by a professional like Nostariel, was taking its toll. He felt stiff in the mornings, or after any period of extended stillness, pains in some of the joints, scarring that went deep. Nothing to be ashamed of, but something that couldn't be ignored, either.
He couldn't continue with this lifestyle forever, but for now, he had to. There were still a great many people that depended on him, that looked to him as an example, that would falter and suffer without him. So if that meant he had to sacrifice a bit of his pride to keep himself functional, he would do it without a moment's hesitation.
To that end, Amalia's physical lessons with Nostariel had acquired two new members. Ithilian was presently contorting his limbs in a way he had simply never thought to attempt before, grimacing like a fool, while Lia did so as well beside him. The girl did much better in matters involving flexibility, but far less so in anything that required strength. Now that she was old enough, and the circumstances obviously warranted it, it seemed prudent to allow Amalia to strengthen her as well.
Ithilian was not opposed to the idea of Lia taking over a shop in Ashton's absence, but he would be damned if he allowed her to do so unprepared. He couldn't help her run a business, as he had no experience himself, but he could make sure she was strong enough to ensure that nothing like what had happened before in Lowtown ever came to pass again. There were a number of people he would be asking to assist, at least at first. Amalia, Nostariel, Aurora when she returned, even Lucien if he could spare the time. The theory was to demonstrate that individuals not to be trifled with were interested in the protection of this store, to ward off hateful cowards who would spite it simply because of the pointy-eared girl behind the counter.
"I'm starting to think," Ithilian said, his face turning rather red from the strain, "that I actually seek out pain." It was also possible he was just doing this wrong, in which case he hoped Amalia would correct him.
âAn interesting hypothesis,â Amalia replied, a small smile flickering over her face. âI canât seem to think of any evidence to the contrary.â She paused a moment as she walked by him, tipping her head to the side, her very long ponytail falling over her shoulder. She was quite casually-dressed on this particular day, nothing more complicated than ordinary loose trousers and a sleeveless blue tunic. Her feet, as they often seemed to be, were bare, and she curled them absently into the worn sandstone of the Alienage floor. âDonât force itâthe goal is to build flexibility slowly, not break your spine in half.â Her tone was colored faintly with amusement, but she was indeed serious in what she said. Perhaps she should not have had him attempt a backbend yet.
Given Auroraâs absence, Nostariel was far and away the most flexible of the lot, having been doing this kind of thing under Amaliaâs instruction for several years, but Lia wasnât bad for a beginner, either. As for Ithilian, well⊠perhaps the less said, the better, for the moment. Still, this was something that might save his life one day, being able to bend far enough that a blade went through air instead of his throat, and being able to move this way tended to keep muscles and tendons in more youthful condition longer. Though she was not far from entering her fourth decade, Amalia neither looked nor felt any different than she had five years before, particularly.
Stopping to correct Nostarielâs form by picking up the womanâs arm by the wrist and moving it back a few inches, she placed it back down. Fortunately, this would not provide a balance issue for the Warden, however temporary. âIf you can, transition into a stand. Weâll work on your legs next.â
Nostariel was certainly accustomed to this sort of activity by now, but that wasnât to say it was easy for her. Every time she thought she might be close to mastering the next set of exercises, Amalia had a new, more difficult one for her to work on. But sheâd never felt this comfortable in her own skin in her entire life, and it was most certainly a welcome compliment to her psychological state of euphoria lately. She felt, as a whole, balanced, both literally, proven to be true when she was able to give Amalia control of one of her arms without wobbling or falling over, and more figuratively, which was perhaps best shown by the near-permanent smile on her face.
At the other womanâs instruction, Nostariel moved out of her back-bend, aligning her vertebrae one over another in a steady sequence until she was standing entirely upright, her hands resting loosely at her sides, the last of her old breath exhaled before she intook a new one. At least they werenât sparring right nowâNostariel usually wound up sporting a lot of bruises when that happened, and it would put a bit of a damper on her current mood.
Ithilian groaned in relief when he was finally in a normal, upright position again, though his own transition back there had been significantly less smooth than Nostariel's, as had Lia's. She was struggling a good deal with Amalia's regime, but she was trying fairly hard to hide that. To be expected of a teenager, Ithilian figured. He had been much the same at sixteen. He wiped the sweat from his brow, tugging his shirt away from his chest, where it seemed inclined to cling.
It was then that he noted the figure entering the Alienage, and immediately identified him as someone who was not a regular denizen. He carried several heavy-looking packs on his back and held a walking stick equal in height to him in his right hand, identifying him as a traveler. He was dressed plainly, dark pants tucked into well worn boots, with a light tunic unbuttoned halfway down the chest and sleeves rolled up around his elbows. He was an elf, and Ithilian would have thought him a complete stranger if not for the tattoos on his face, marking him as Dalish. He knew those marks well, three thick black lines ascending away from between his brows, a patch covering his chin, with dots in a line roughly perpendicular to his cheek bones.
He smiled when he caught sight of Ithilian, gleaming rows of white teeth. He seemed less surprised to find Ithilian than Ithilian was to find him, but still a bit shocked. "By the Dread Wolf, Ithilian, you're even uglier than I thought you'd be."
Ithilian was forced to momentarily abandon Amalia's routine, approaching the elven man somewhat slack-jawed, though by the time he'd come within arm's length of him he had determined that yes, this was the man he thought it was. "And you're still the pretty boy you always were, Emerion." His friend grinned broadly in response, and the pair clasped arms, Ithilian obviously still somewhat surprised at his presence. "It's been... a very long time." He wasn't even sure of the years, but the two had both been late teenagers when they were separated. "What are you doing here?"
"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm visiting an old friend. Took some leave from the clan, the Keeper isn't going anywhere just yet. I ran across Marethari's bunch, and they suggested I might stop here for a while. She said you've been busy here. I thought you might welcome another hand." It was somewhat clear that he was still getting used to the sight of Ithilian's uncovered head. In the years before he'd left, Ithilian had almost never walked about without the headwrap.
"Marethari did not lie," Ithilian answered. "I've been settled here for years now. This is... unexpected. Not unwelcome, though. I... did not think to see you again, to be honest." And he certainly hadn't planned on it. Ithilian wondered how, if at all, Emerion had changed. Ithilian was certainly a different person entirely when he was a teenager. Not to mention Emerion was a mage, First to a Keeper, and though he didn't exactly look as such at the moment, Ithilian wondered if his old friend had any experience hiding his magic away from the clans.
"It seems as though I haven't caught you at your best," Emerion teased, poking fun at Ithilian's state from Amalia's workout. He turned his attention to those Ithilian had been with, or more precisely, to Nostariel. "Is that a Warden band, my lady? It's a delight to make your acquaintance. I am Emerion, of the Dalish, and old partner in crime of my hideous friend here."
Nostariel had heard enough of the conversation to have caught the manâs name before he gave it and also that he was a friend of Ithilianâs, and the tattoos made it obvious enough how that had come about. She supposed they must have been clan-kin to one another at some point⊠though she had believed that all of them were killed by the Darkspawn. Ithilian seemed surprised to see this Emerion, but not surprised enough to have thought him dead, so there must be something else going on there. Either way, she smiled at their familiarityâthis was clearly a fortuitous meeting, and for someone so formerly haunted by the past, to have a figure walk right out of it in a positive sense could only be good news.
She was admittedly somewhat surprised to be the first addressed of the group; she definitely considered Ithilian a close friend of hers, but she was standing next to two of the few people in the world who were closer to him still. Though⊠there was no way for Emerion to know that, and she recalled something about the Dalish having a high regard for Wardens, so her confusion was short-lived, and her smile morphed into a slight ducking of her head and a modest wave of the hand. âIt is, but I am no Warden in present company. Only a healer and a friend. It is a pleasure to meet you, Emerion. I am Nostariel Turtega, presently of Kirkwall.â
"Was that your clinic I passed by on my way here, then?" Emerion asked, appearing pleasantly surprised. "It's always good to find another healer, the world has too few." Ithilian remembered Emerion's healing magic coming along nicely when he left, and he didn't doubt his skill had only improved since then.
"This is Lia," Ithilian said, when it appeared as though the girl was actually somewhat shy for once. She didn't look uncomfortable, like Emerion scared her or anything, but she obviously knew she was looking at a proud example of the Dalish, one of the few she'd had the opportunity to meet. "A close friend of mine," Ithilian added, in case there was any confusion. "We met not long after I arrived."
"Hi," Lia said, offering her own little wave. "You and Ithilian were friends?"
"We were. The best of friends, actually. We grew up together, but before I was twenty I had to leave for another clan, and several countries separated us."
"Why'd you have to leave?"
Emerion smiled slightly at the question. "Let's just say that certain gifts are not feared among the Dalish as they are among shemlen. The clans share these gifts, and those who carry them, equally." He tilted his head towards the staff he carried, and then Lia understood.
"Oh. I see. Well, it's nice to meet you, Emerion."
"And you as well, Lia."
Amalia was disinclined to introduce herself when it was evidently not solicited, and so she busied herself for the moment with gathering the few supplies sheâd brought outside for the purpose of instruction. Sheâd been thinking about taking them through some empty-handed forms, focused especially for Lia and Nostariel on disarming and throwing larger opponents. Not that knowing such things would be at all useless for Ithilian either. But it seemed that for today at least, activity would be cut short.
Inductively, she had no reason to believe that a Dalish elf, from the very same clan that Ithilian was from, would see anything past the shape of her ears, and while she was perfectly capable of dealing with that sort of reaction, she was not necessarily going to volunteer to do so without a reason. Her supplies collected, she nodded over to the others. âThe day after tomorrow, if youâve the time to spare.â Turning to Ithilian specifically, she continued. âPolâs unsure about the new patrol up near the fishmonger's. Iâll be tailing them tonight, should you wish to come.â Flicking her glance briefly to Emerion, she dipped her head, but said nothing, instead deciding to make herself scarce by heading back into her house.
Ithilian was not really sure how to respond, and so the chance eluded him before he could grasp any words, and Amalia was gone. He had been expecting, on some level, for that to go awkwardly, but not that poorly. Emerion seemed to regard Amalia as a curiosity more than anything, and he looked to Ithilian for explanation once she had departed. "Friend of yours?"
"Lethallan, actually. That is a long story." Emerion briefly raised his eyebrows, but took the information more or less in stride.
"Well, I may be around for a while, so perhaps there will be time to tell it. We've got a lot of catching up to do. For now, though, perhaps I should see the hahren regarding a place to stay. I don't intend to impose myself on any of you for that long, after all." Ithilian nodded. It wouldn't have been a problem to house Emerion for a while, if he needed it, but to be honest, he wasn't sure how he would feel about him staying for an extended duration. He wasn't going to ask him to leave, though. He was, after all, and old friend, and deserved better than that.
"I'll show you to him," Ithilian volunteered, gesturing for Emerion to follow. To Nostariel and Lia, he offered a somewhat apologetic look, as the arrival of his friend here had cut short their time with Amalia for the day. He could almost feel Lia's eyes on Emerion's back as they walked away.
This was going to be interesting.