Emerion was gone at last, though not indefinitely. The Keeper's First had stated his intent to explore the majority of the city, to better learn its layout, and Ithilian had seen no reason to try and stop him, or warn him of the dangers. He pitied the first shem who would think to test the new Dalish arrival to the city, for if Ithilian knew Emerion even slightly, he was just as deadly as the hunter himself had ever been, probably more so. Emerion had magic at his fingertips. A power Ithilian seriously hoped he would keep hidden.
The day before had been spent almost entirely with his old friend, as there had been much to discuss, and merely getting each other caught up on the events of their lives had taken hours and hours, to the point where Lia, who had interestedly followed them around for most of it, could stand it no longer, and turned in to sleep.
Today was different, though, and Ithilian was resolved to make use it of it while it lasted. Amalia had avoided the pair of them altogether while they were near each other, and Ithilian was never sure how, or even if, to try and break the ice. He'd done his best to try and stress how much of an ally Amalia was, both to the Alienage and to Ithilian personally, but he had a feeling little of it took hold. Emerion had been the son of the old Keeper Ithilian had followed, and what began in the father carried on in his offspring. He did not have a kind disposition towards humans.
While Emerion was gone, though, Ithilian made quickly over to Amalia's dwelling, rapping on the door three times with his knuckles. If Emerion was going to be staying here for a while, which it seemed like he was, then this was going to rear its head eventually. Ithilian hoped to make that as painless as possible.
Amalia answered no more than a few seconds later, clearly having been on her way out of the house for a while, considering her attire. Which was to say, she was actually wearing shoes, which was something she never did inside her own home. Her harp was cradled under one arm, her hair braided over one shoulder, but whatever she had been on her way to do was evidently not of particular importance to her, for when she discerned the identity of her guest, she let the door fall open the rest of the way inside.
“Kadan.” Where once in their history, a visit like this would surely have meant that some task urgently needed doing, that was no longer the case in the vast majority of the instances they saw one another. But she would not have expected a social call with his friend in town so recently, and she tipped her head slightly to the side. “Is something the matter?” She stepped aside from the doorframe, indicating that he was welcome to come in.
After her viddathari had cleared out, she’d wound up with the four-roomed home to herself. It was considerably more space than she required, where once it had been packed with too many bodies, but the Hahren had not seen fit to designate her other rooms as belonging to anyone else, and so for the moment, it was all clean, precisely-organized, and mostly empty. Amalia’s life was not one that left much in the way of refuse. Excluding the elements of her various craft pursuits and the very basic things she used by way of furniture, she owned almost no personal items whatsoever.
"We should talk about Emerion," Ithilian stated somewhat bluntly, after a brief pause at Amalia's question. He'd thought it rather obvious, but then again, he knew much better than Amalia what kind of person Emerion was. As far as he could tell, he was quite similar to how Ithilian had been when he'd arrived in the city, minus the residual crushing grief of losing his family. It was still a dangerous concoction to brew in a city like Kirkwall, which had already proven itself to be a hornet's nest just waiting to be kicked.
"He's off exploring the city for the moment. I wanted to better explain where things stand, as... we didn't really get a chance yesterday." The explanation of his relationship with Amalia had more or less sailed by Emerion. He wondered if the same would happen here. Probably not. She was not so blinded by a doctrine of hatred that had taken years and the worst kind of suffering to break through.
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him and settling into the nearest chair, leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees. "I'm... not sure what to think about this, honestly. I was a very different person when I knew him, but from what I can tell, he is largely the same. That is to say, dangerously prideful, hateful of humans, and not one to sit back and not assert himself. We were kindred spirits of a time. Now, though..." He trailed off. It didn't seem right to take out on his old friend the frustrations Ithilian had with who he used to be, but all the same, they no longer agreed on nearly as many things as before.
"He's still a friend of mine," he continued, scratching his head, "but if he's staying here for a while... I don't know what he's doing. I could understand if he just wanted to see me again, but if he's settling in... it doesn't make sense. He's First to a Keeper, in line to control his own clan. He has responsibilities, and it seems like he's neglecting them by being here."
Sensing that this was going to be rather important, and not something for public consumption, Amalia took up a spot on one of the cushions on her floor, settling the harp in her lap. She didn’t do much with it, at least not until her kadan had said his piece. Her brow furrowed slightly, and her fingers teased the strings as she attempted to put together what she wanted to say. Carefully, she set her personal feeling to the side and considered the matter as rationally as possible. Somewhat more difficult than usual, when her personal feelings as such were not entirely settled.
“I think,” she said carefully, trilling a chord, “that the best way to find out what his purpose is here is to ask him. I do not know if your friend is of the dissembling kind, but if he is not, then the answer should be ready enough. Perhaps something happened to his clan. Perhaps he feels that his responsibility to them, as you put it, extends more properly to all elves, and looks for somewhere that he might be of most use.” Kirkwall was, after all, notoriously unstable—if ever there was a place to stir a populace into something, this may well be it, especially considering the continuing distrust of the Guard and the draconian—by standards not hers—measures the Templars were taking to maintain their control. Something was abound to give eventually, again. And there was opportunity in that, for the right sort of person.
“As for the rest… I think we have both learned by now that it takes more than abject hatred to deter me from doing as I wish.” She smiled slightly, one of her eyebrows quirking upwards, a reminder that his attitude had certainly not affected her, when he had been the same way. “And… just because this is his attitude now does not mean it will remain so.”
Ithilian returned his lethallan's smile. "I suppose we'll just need several years and a world of suffering for him, then." It was said jokingly, but there was some truth to it. Ithilian would never have seen through his old ways if he had never been made to feel so wretched. It was not something he would wish upon a friend, even if it would serve to make them wiser. "Not to mention that the man who drilled it into him was his father, not just his Keeper."
Letting out a pent up breath, Ithilian leaned back in his chair, resting his palms on his thighs. "I'm overthinking this, surely. You're right. I guess I've just... gotten accustomed to trouble." With good reason. There had been little cause to add to his collection of scars lately, and he expected that surely something was coming to change that.
There wasn't really much to be done about the prejudice, he supposed. As Ithilian had already proven, anything thrown at Amalia would simply wash over her. She wasn't one to be moved in any direction by a bark over a bite.
“Not without reason,” Amalia acknowledged. “Caution is rarely ill-conceived, but better, when it is ultimately for naught.” Anything else she might have said was interrupted by a knock on the door, and she stood smoothly from her seat near the ground and set her harp down next to the cushion. She was certainly not expecting any more guests today, but they were not precisely uncommon. Despite her strange nature, four years had firmly entrenched her here, and in all that time, she had given none of these people any reason to fear her. Particularly not the children, who tended to be bolder with their impositions on her time and energy. Not that she minded, of course—if she had, she would not have allowed it. In this way, she considered herself a particularly simple person.
When the door swung open that time, however, it was no child that stood on the other side. “Emerion,” she said, a note of soft incredulity in her tone. Perhaps he had simply heard that his friend was present and needed him for something. “You are welcome inside, if you are so inclined.” She moved the door wider, and stepped to the side. If nothing else, it would be easier for him to talk to Ithilian from the entrance that way.
"Thank you," Emerion said, taking her up on the offer and stepping through the doorway. Once inside, his eyes shifted about in nearly every direction, taking in the interior of the house, its layout and the items easily visible, before settling on Ithilian. "Lia informed me that you were here. I hope I'm not intruding."
Regardless of whether he was intruding or not, he then turned back to Amalia. "We weren't properly introduced yesterday, and considering how highly Ithilian spoke of you, I felt somewhat callous in having ignored you. Allow me to correct myself. As you know, I am Emerion of the Dalish."
Amalia leveled Emerion with a measuring look, but in the end, her reply was basically what it would have been in any case. “I am called Amalia. Once Qunari. Now… of the Alienage.” She felt no need to put a finer point on it than that.
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Any friend of Ithilian's is surely a friend of mine." Ithilian watched this somewhat cautiously from where he still sat, caught a bit off guard by Emerion's politeness. For all his experience with the man's prejudice towards humans, he couldn't say he'd ever actually seen him interact with one while outside the confines of the clan. Perhaps he was just smart enough to know that Amalia wasn't one to throw pointless hate at.
"This is... quite a lot of space, for an Alienage home, if you don't mind me saying. You live alone?" That was more along the lines of what Ithilian had expected. Emerion could hardly know what Amalia had done with this place without seeing it for himself. It only followed that he would find issue with it, considering how much less space many elves lived in here.
“For now.” Amalia nodded slowly. She was far from oblivious to the implication of the statement, but it was not really her business what the Hahren did or did not decide to do with the other three rooms in her home, and if any here should want to share the house with her, she would have no issues with it. As usual, however, where saying this out loud may have smoothed something over, she chose not to. It was not on her to explain everything about herself to anyone who expressed curiosity. That much, at least, had never changed about her at all.
“Is there business you must attend to, or would you care to remain? I was going to make tea.” She blinked over at Emerion, one eyebrow raising slightly as if to punctuate the question. Perhaps in contrast to the previous day, she appeared rather centered, at ease, unruffled. Arguably, she always seemed that way, but this was absent the tension of Emerion’s initial arrival. It would seem she was taking her own advice when it came to the benefit of the doubt and caution.
"Why not?" Emerion asked rhetorically, as though Amalia were a longtime friend of his as well. "That sounds wonderful." He sat down across from Ithilian, who was not able to contain his apprehension at the idea of sharing tea with these two so soon, but for all that, Emerion seemed intent on remaining civil.
This was going to be interesting, to be sure.
The day before had been spent almost entirely with his old friend, as there had been much to discuss, and merely getting each other caught up on the events of their lives had taken hours and hours, to the point where Lia, who had interestedly followed them around for most of it, could stand it no longer, and turned in to sleep.
Today was different, though, and Ithilian was resolved to make use it of it while it lasted. Amalia had avoided the pair of them altogether while they were near each other, and Ithilian was never sure how, or even if, to try and break the ice. He'd done his best to try and stress how much of an ally Amalia was, both to the Alienage and to Ithilian personally, but he had a feeling little of it took hold. Emerion had been the son of the old Keeper Ithilian had followed, and what began in the father carried on in his offspring. He did not have a kind disposition towards humans.
While Emerion was gone, though, Ithilian made quickly over to Amalia's dwelling, rapping on the door three times with his knuckles. If Emerion was going to be staying here for a while, which it seemed like he was, then this was going to rear its head eventually. Ithilian hoped to make that as painless as possible.
Amalia answered no more than a few seconds later, clearly having been on her way out of the house for a while, considering her attire. Which was to say, she was actually wearing shoes, which was something she never did inside her own home. Her harp was cradled under one arm, her hair braided over one shoulder, but whatever she had been on her way to do was evidently not of particular importance to her, for when she discerned the identity of her guest, she let the door fall open the rest of the way inside.
“Kadan.” Where once in their history, a visit like this would surely have meant that some task urgently needed doing, that was no longer the case in the vast majority of the instances they saw one another. But she would not have expected a social call with his friend in town so recently, and she tipped her head slightly to the side. “Is something the matter?” She stepped aside from the doorframe, indicating that he was welcome to come in.
After her viddathari had cleared out, she’d wound up with the four-roomed home to herself. It was considerably more space than she required, where once it had been packed with too many bodies, but the Hahren had not seen fit to designate her other rooms as belonging to anyone else, and so for the moment, it was all clean, precisely-organized, and mostly empty. Amalia’s life was not one that left much in the way of refuse. Excluding the elements of her various craft pursuits and the very basic things she used by way of furniture, she owned almost no personal items whatsoever.
"We should talk about Emerion," Ithilian stated somewhat bluntly, after a brief pause at Amalia's question. He'd thought it rather obvious, but then again, he knew much better than Amalia what kind of person Emerion was. As far as he could tell, he was quite similar to how Ithilian had been when he'd arrived in the city, minus the residual crushing grief of losing his family. It was still a dangerous concoction to brew in a city like Kirkwall, which had already proven itself to be a hornet's nest just waiting to be kicked.
"He's off exploring the city for the moment. I wanted to better explain where things stand, as... we didn't really get a chance yesterday." The explanation of his relationship with Amalia had more or less sailed by Emerion. He wondered if the same would happen here. Probably not. She was not so blinded by a doctrine of hatred that had taken years and the worst kind of suffering to break through.
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him and settling into the nearest chair, leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees. "I'm... not sure what to think about this, honestly. I was a very different person when I knew him, but from what I can tell, he is largely the same. That is to say, dangerously prideful, hateful of humans, and not one to sit back and not assert himself. We were kindred spirits of a time. Now, though..." He trailed off. It didn't seem right to take out on his old friend the frustrations Ithilian had with who he used to be, but all the same, they no longer agreed on nearly as many things as before.
"He's still a friend of mine," he continued, scratching his head, "but if he's staying here for a while... I don't know what he's doing. I could understand if he just wanted to see me again, but if he's settling in... it doesn't make sense. He's First to a Keeper, in line to control his own clan. He has responsibilities, and it seems like he's neglecting them by being here."
Sensing that this was going to be rather important, and not something for public consumption, Amalia took up a spot on one of the cushions on her floor, settling the harp in her lap. She didn’t do much with it, at least not until her kadan had said his piece. Her brow furrowed slightly, and her fingers teased the strings as she attempted to put together what she wanted to say. Carefully, she set her personal feeling to the side and considered the matter as rationally as possible. Somewhat more difficult than usual, when her personal feelings as such were not entirely settled.
“I think,” she said carefully, trilling a chord, “that the best way to find out what his purpose is here is to ask him. I do not know if your friend is of the dissembling kind, but if he is not, then the answer should be ready enough. Perhaps something happened to his clan. Perhaps he feels that his responsibility to them, as you put it, extends more properly to all elves, and looks for somewhere that he might be of most use.” Kirkwall was, after all, notoriously unstable—if ever there was a place to stir a populace into something, this may well be it, especially considering the continuing distrust of the Guard and the draconian—by standards not hers—measures the Templars were taking to maintain their control. Something was abound to give eventually, again. And there was opportunity in that, for the right sort of person.
“As for the rest… I think we have both learned by now that it takes more than abject hatred to deter me from doing as I wish.” She smiled slightly, one of her eyebrows quirking upwards, a reminder that his attitude had certainly not affected her, when he had been the same way. “And… just because this is his attitude now does not mean it will remain so.”
Ithilian returned his lethallan's smile. "I suppose we'll just need several years and a world of suffering for him, then." It was said jokingly, but there was some truth to it. Ithilian would never have seen through his old ways if he had never been made to feel so wretched. It was not something he would wish upon a friend, even if it would serve to make them wiser. "Not to mention that the man who drilled it into him was his father, not just his Keeper."
Letting out a pent up breath, Ithilian leaned back in his chair, resting his palms on his thighs. "I'm overthinking this, surely. You're right. I guess I've just... gotten accustomed to trouble." With good reason. There had been little cause to add to his collection of scars lately, and he expected that surely something was coming to change that.
There wasn't really much to be done about the prejudice, he supposed. As Ithilian had already proven, anything thrown at Amalia would simply wash over her. She wasn't one to be moved in any direction by a bark over a bite.
“Not without reason,” Amalia acknowledged. “Caution is rarely ill-conceived, but better, when it is ultimately for naught.” Anything else she might have said was interrupted by a knock on the door, and she stood smoothly from her seat near the ground and set her harp down next to the cushion. She was certainly not expecting any more guests today, but they were not precisely uncommon. Despite her strange nature, four years had firmly entrenched her here, and in all that time, she had given none of these people any reason to fear her. Particularly not the children, who tended to be bolder with their impositions on her time and energy. Not that she minded, of course—if she had, she would not have allowed it. In this way, she considered herself a particularly simple person.
When the door swung open that time, however, it was no child that stood on the other side. “Emerion,” she said, a note of soft incredulity in her tone. Perhaps he had simply heard that his friend was present and needed him for something. “You are welcome inside, if you are so inclined.” She moved the door wider, and stepped to the side. If nothing else, it would be easier for him to talk to Ithilian from the entrance that way.
"Thank you," Emerion said, taking her up on the offer and stepping through the doorway. Once inside, his eyes shifted about in nearly every direction, taking in the interior of the house, its layout and the items easily visible, before settling on Ithilian. "Lia informed me that you were here. I hope I'm not intruding."
Regardless of whether he was intruding or not, he then turned back to Amalia. "We weren't properly introduced yesterday, and considering how highly Ithilian spoke of you, I felt somewhat callous in having ignored you. Allow me to correct myself. As you know, I am Emerion of the Dalish."
Amalia leveled Emerion with a measuring look, but in the end, her reply was basically what it would have been in any case. “I am called Amalia. Once Qunari. Now… of the Alienage.” She felt no need to put a finer point on it than that.
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Any friend of Ithilian's is surely a friend of mine." Ithilian watched this somewhat cautiously from where he still sat, caught a bit off guard by Emerion's politeness. For all his experience with the man's prejudice towards humans, he couldn't say he'd ever actually seen him interact with one while outside the confines of the clan. Perhaps he was just smart enough to know that Amalia wasn't one to throw pointless hate at.
"This is... quite a lot of space, for an Alienage home, if you don't mind me saying. You live alone?" That was more along the lines of what Ithilian had expected. Emerion could hardly know what Amalia had done with this place without seeing it for himself. It only followed that he would find issue with it, considering how much less space many elves lived in here.
“For now.” Amalia nodded slowly. She was far from oblivious to the implication of the statement, but it was not really her business what the Hahren did or did not decide to do with the other three rooms in her home, and if any here should want to share the house with her, she would have no issues with it. As usual, however, where saying this out loud may have smoothed something over, she chose not to. It was not on her to explain everything about herself to anyone who expressed curiosity. That much, at least, had never changed about her at all.
“Is there business you must attend to, or would you care to remain? I was going to make tea.” She blinked over at Emerion, one eyebrow raising slightly as if to punctuate the question. Perhaps in contrast to the previous day, she appeared rather centered, at ease, unruffled. Arguably, she always seemed that way, but this was absent the tension of Emerion’s initial arrival. It would seem she was taking her own advice when it came to the benefit of the doubt and caution.
"Why not?" Emerion asked rhetorically, as though Amalia were a longtime friend of his as well. "That sounds wonderful." He sat down across from Ithilian, who was not able to contain his apprehension at the idea of sharing tea with these two so soon, but for all that, Emerion seemed intent on remaining civil.
This was going to be interesting, to be sure.