Amalia pushed an errant strand of hair from her face, folding it back behind an ear, only for it to fall back into her field of vision again a moment later. Frowning slightly, she tried again, to achieve no more than the first time. It hung there, like a little cloudy wisp, obscuring the leather she was presently working on. Though perhaps working was a bit of an exaggeration, considering that really all she was doing to it at this point was adding artistic detail. Superfluous, unnecessary. She would have never done something like that beforeāit would have been plain and of exceptional quality, and she would have been done with it. But sheād practiced such things as this for a solid month before sheād let herself touch the bracer sheād given Lia, and when she had, sheād addedā¦ vines. Flowering vines. Practically the antithesis of efficiency.
And strangest of all, sheād been rather satisfied by the result. The finished piece was better than it had been before, because there was something else in it, something sheād never put into anything sheād made before. Her own touch. Oh, to be sure, she was especially careful when she crafted anything, but that was because she was thinking always of who would be using it, what purpose it must fulfill and for whom. Parshaara had been weeks as a mere thought before sheād even allowed herself to begin working the bone of which it was made. But when those pieces were made and done, no trace of their maker had remained. That one little piece of leatherwork, simple by comparison to some of the other things sheād done, had been profoundly different.
But then, she was profoundly different now. Shaking her head slightly and watching the tendril of wavy golden hair swish in front of her face, Amalia rolled her eyes and stood, making her way over to the fireplace tucked into one corner of her house. She was sharing it again, as the Hahren had moved a few people around to accommodate a growing family. A few of the residents had volunteered to move in with her, perhaps by now accustomed enough to her presence not to mind her proximity, however human she might be. But they were out for the afternoon, and so when she boiled the water, she made enough of it for a small pot of tea only before disappearing into the tiny room that contained her pile of blankets and finding a small leather cord.
She was halfway through braiding the troublesome cluster of hair into a larger one around the crown of her head when she heard the knock at the door. āEnter,ā she called.
Aurora entered and was struck by how empty the home seemed now without Amalia's viddathari. It hit her that it had been that long since she last stepped foot into her abode, and there was a momentary flicker of guilt that resulted. It was smothered soon after. She had been in no position to visit after the Qunari had left, and when she was, she hadn't been present. "Amalia?" she called, "It's me." The woman wasn't immediately visible, but movement revealed her to be in one of the back rooms.
The next thing she noticed was undoubtedly Amalia's current project. Always busy, Aurora thought, never a moment to settle down and breathe. She grinned to herself as she picked her way toward the piece. Not everything changed, it seemed. She looked over the leather Amalia had been working, impressed by her consistent craftsmanship before arching an eyebrow. She lifted her wrist with her bracer and looked at it closer. The main difference between her bracer and the leather was the fact that hers was dragonhide, and the leather was just ordinary leather-- if of exceptional quality if she had her guess.
But that wasn't the point of the comparison. Her bracer was well made, but bare. There was nothing else special about it meant only for utilitarian purpose, and the only personality it held was that earned from years of use. The leather she was looking at was not so plain, instead bearing a decoration of sorts. Admittedly, Aurora felt a sliver of envy. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" She asked.
Amalia tied off the finished braid, shaking her head and glancing over at the worktable. āPractice,ā she replied evenly, rising from her seat when the water in the kettle over the fire started to boil. She plucked a couple of cupsāalso entirely plain ceramicāfrom the shelf and placed them down on the low table at the back of the room, moving the water into a pot and spooning in some leaves from a cylindrical canister, one that smelled when opened of exotic spice. It had not been a simple matter to procure the plants sheād needed to put together this blend, as several of them grew on Par Vollen only, but sheād managed it. Smuggling worked the same everywhere.
āSit, if it please you.ā After a few moments, she poured the tea. It was too strong to let it steep for long. She had noticed Auroraās exercise in comparison, but took a little moment to mull over what it might mean. When she had a tentative guess, she furrowed her brows and chanced it. āI haveā¦ improved, in my craftsmanship somewhat, since coming here. If you are dissatisfied with it, I could make a new one.ā She wasnāt especially pleased with the guessāshe always took great care with things and tried to make them as well as she possibly couldābut she could see that what she was capable of now was more than sheād been capable of then, even if there was nothing wrong with the initial design. Stillā¦ she felt a little disquiet about it, for a reasons he could not fathom. It was simple logic to want the best gear imaginable. Somehow, the sentiment she was allowing herself now was being misdirected. Amalia wondered if this sort of thing happened to other people often.
If so, she might understand why they seemed soā¦ volatile, compared to her people. Unsettled by the thought, she took a sip of her tea, letting the spice burst over her tongue the way she favored.
"Practice?" Aurora asked taking one last look at the leather and turning to Amalia with a smile. "I wish I could practice like that. It would've really helped my studies years ago." She made her way to the table that Amalia sat at and took the teacup in both hands, letting the liquid warm her hands through the ceramic. She tilted it around, swirling the liquid in the cup and taking in its particularly strong scent. "I doubt that," she began, pulling the tea closer to her face, letting the steam wash over her face. "Your craftsmanship is immaculate, as always. You're just putting it to use elsewhere." She took a sip of the tea in her hand and her eyes widened from the taste. The spice was potent, but not unpleasant.
"I'm fond of the one I have now, I'm satisfied with it really. It saved my life more times than I'm comfortable admitting," because the fact that it needed to save her life at all hinted at the dangerous life she led. She would not lie to herself and believe that it was behind her either, it would probably save her again at some point in the future. She set the teacup back onto the table and laid the arm with the bracer beside it so that Amalia could get a better look. "It might not be decorated, but it still has a story." The leather was worn, but still strong like the dragon that it came from. Scuffs marred its surface and indentations ran the length from fending off blows that would've ended her otherwise. "It's just not as pretty."
āIā¦ wasnāt thinking about that sort of thing, back then,ā Amalia admitted with a wry twist of her lip. āThings that serve a purpose were beautiful. Function was paramount, form only secondary.ā She paused, setting her cup down on the low table. Everything she owned, few things as those were, was a testament to that principle. Each item in her possession was plain, but exceedingly functional. There was no ornamentation, no flourish. Amalia folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them. At the little white scars that punctuated her tanned skin, from training or the errors of a green fighter or from Marcus.
But even when sheād been near to death and crawling out of a hole in the ground, she had been functional. Her body, her spirit, these things had served a purpose. It made it easier to live in her skin, believing that everyone else was wrong about what true worth was. Her form, like that of her tools or her teacups, was not aesthetically appealing, especially. At least sheād never been given indication that it was. But like her tools and her teacups, it served every purpose she bent it to, because it had been made for them. Her mind, her spirit, these were the same. But she found herself in a strange world now, one where form and function were not so easily separated, where sometimes, it was more useful to be beautiful than to be capable.
Where sometimes, it was just nice to be ornamented in some way beyond the necessary. She did not know exactly where that left her, and it made her feel strange. She had many new things to think about, of late, and it seemed that they were all connected in some way or another, and none left her quite so comfortable in her skin as sheād been half a year ago. Because it needed to do more things now, she needed to be more things. āPerhaps I see a little differently now.ā
A pause, and she seemed to fully exit her contemplations, fixing both eyes on Auroraās. āBut I do not think you came here to talk about leatherwork.ā
"About Sparrow actually," then realizing how that could sound considering how Sparrow was, Aurora raised a hand wave off any worry Amalia might've had. "She hasn't done anything, yet." She laughed and took another sip of her tea before continuing her thought. "She just made me realize that I'm not all that great of a teacher." There had been a lot of floundering in the clearing where they practiced their magic, and Aurora was pretty sure she made things worse by trying to explain how she did what she did. back in the Circle, she hadn't been that great of a student herself, and she hadn't been considered as one in line to become one of the mages to teach the apprentices.
Figuring that an explanation was necessary, she continued. "You've seen how Sparrow uses her magic, right? Well, I want to teach her a little control and focus to be able to utilize it like I do, but... Sparrow," she said bobbing her eyebrows up and down as explanation enough. "You taught me, and I watched you teach your viddathari and you're just so much better at it than I am. It's like you always know what to say and how to say it." She leaned back in her chair and threw her arm over the back and using the thumb on her other hand to press in between her brows. "I guess what I'm trying to ask is give me some hints on how to get through to her without sounding like a fool."
She let a moment pass and leaned forward again, adding something, "You can't teach her how to use magic like I can, but I can't teach her like this."
Amalia had a fair sense that Sparrow hadnāt caused any disasters recently. That Tranquil friend of his was usually there to make sure he didnāt, something that Amalia had gotten the immediate sense, all those years ago, he was capable of and would do to the extent truly required and no further. Strange, to be able to get that impression from so little interaction, but she did not believe she was wrong, even now. The rest of the explanation was honestly not something she had been expecting. Aurora was trying to teach Sparrow more effective use of his magic? Things did truly move in strange patterns sometimes. In some roundabout fashion, Sparrow was the reason Aurora had learned what she knew of control and discipline. Because Amalia had long ago noted what was missing in him, but been unable to impart it. So when she noted the same things missing in Aurora a decade later, she had not hesitated to make the attempt to rectify them. Perhaps that act would not have further-reaching consequences than she had ever expected.
āYou must not teach him to be like you. You must teach him to be like himself, only better. Approach him not from where you are and what you know, but where he is. Do not attempt to pull him to the place you occupy. He cannot be you any more than you can be me, and you should not want that. I did not.ā Amaliaās lips twitched, the bare beginnings of a smile. āNudge him from behind and let him chart the course himself. Steer where necessary, but he must be the driving force in his own transformation, must believe he accomplishes all of these things by his own strength, or it will not remain in place.ā The student was the real agent in the learning process, and the teacher only a resource they had to understand how to use.
āIf course correction should become necessary however, it is acceptable to beat him into it. Sometimes, students need a demonstration of just how much they do not know, lest they assume the reason you are not more aggressive is that they are too talented.ā The smile inched a little wider before it disappeared behind Amaliaās teacup.
"Well there's an image," Aurora said, leaning back with her hands on her lips trying to stifle the laughter. "Sparrow and I in a fist fight. She's got some muscle, though you couldn't tell from her frame." Composing herself well enough to continue the conversation, she leaned forward and held her teacup with both hands, hints of her laughter still present on the corners of her lips. The parallels were not lost on her, she knew that Amalia had known Sparrow before any of them, and now Aurora was attempting to teach the woman, just like Amalia had taught her. It was odd how things often worked out. "I don't think I could teach her to be like me. It would be hard to make her into something that's not her. Sparrow's a... Unique individual." However, she still nodded her understanding and accepted the idea.
She drew the teacup to her lips and left it at her lips for a time, digesting what she said. "It's not so much teaching as letting them learn, is it?"
"Precisely." Aurora would do just fine.
And strangest of all, sheād been rather satisfied by the result. The finished piece was better than it had been before, because there was something else in it, something sheād never put into anything sheād made before. Her own touch. Oh, to be sure, she was especially careful when she crafted anything, but that was because she was thinking always of who would be using it, what purpose it must fulfill and for whom. Parshaara had been weeks as a mere thought before sheād even allowed herself to begin working the bone of which it was made. But when those pieces were made and done, no trace of their maker had remained. That one little piece of leatherwork, simple by comparison to some of the other things sheād done, had been profoundly different.
But then, she was profoundly different now. Shaking her head slightly and watching the tendril of wavy golden hair swish in front of her face, Amalia rolled her eyes and stood, making her way over to the fireplace tucked into one corner of her house. She was sharing it again, as the Hahren had moved a few people around to accommodate a growing family. A few of the residents had volunteered to move in with her, perhaps by now accustomed enough to her presence not to mind her proximity, however human she might be. But they were out for the afternoon, and so when she boiled the water, she made enough of it for a small pot of tea only before disappearing into the tiny room that contained her pile of blankets and finding a small leather cord.
She was halfway through braiding the troublesome cluster of hair into a larger one around the crown of her head when she heard the knock at the door. āEnter,ā she called.
Aurora entered and was struck by how empty the home seemed now without Amalia's viddathari. It hit her that it had been that long since she last stepped foot into her abode, and there was a momentary flicker of guilt that resulted. It was smothered soon after. She had been in no position to visit after the Qunari had left, and when she was, she hadn't been present. "Amalia?" she called, "It's me." The woman wasn't immediately visible, but movement revealed her to be in one of the back rooms.
The next thing she noticed was undoubtedly Amalia's current project. Always busy, Aurora thought, never a moment to settle down and breathe. She grinned to herself as she picked her way toward the piece. Not everything changed, it seemed. She looked over the leather Amalia had been working, impressed by her consistent craftsmanship before arching an eyebrow. She lifted her wrist with her bracer and looked at it closer. The main difference between her bracer and the leather was the fact that hers was dragonhide, and the leather was just ordinary leather-- if of exceptional quality if she had her guess.
But that wasn't the point of the comparison. Her bracer was well made, but bare. There was nothing else special about it meant only for utilitarian purpose, and the only personality it held was that earned from years of use. The leather she was looking at was not so plain, instead bearing a decoration of sorts. Admittedly, Aurora felt a sliver of envy. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" She asked.
Amalia tied off the finished braid, shaking her head and glancing over at the worktable. āPractice,ā she replied evenly, rising from her seat when the water in the kettle over the fire started to boil. She plucked a couple of cupsāalso entirely plain ceramicāfrom the shelf and placed them down on the low table at the back of the room, moving the water into a pot and spooning in some leaves from a cylindrical canister, one that smelled when opened of exotic spice. It had not been a simple matter to procure the plants sheād needed to put together this blend, as several of them grew on Par Vollen only, but sheād managed it. Smuggling worked the same everywhere.
āSit, if it please you.ā After a few moments, she poured the tea. It was too strong to let it steep for long. She had noticed Auroraās exercise in comparison, but took a little moment to mull over what it might mean. When she had a tentative guess, she furrowed her brows and chanced it. āI haveā¦ improved, in my craftsmanship somewhat, since coming here. If you are dissatisfied with it, I could make a new one.ā She wasnāt especially pleased with the guessāshe always took great care with things and tried to make them as well as she possibly couldābut she could see that what she was capable of now was more than sheād been capable of then, even if there was nothing wrong with the initial design. Stillā¦ she felt a little disquiet about it, for a reasons he could not fathom. It was simple logic to want the best gear imaginable. Somehow, the sentiment she was allowing herself now was being misdirected. Amalia wondered if this sort of thing happened to other people often.
If so, she might understand why they seemed soā¦ volatile, compared to her people. Unsettled by the thought, she took a sip of her tea, letting the spice burst over her tongue the way she favored.
"Practice?" Aurora asked taking one last look at the leather and turning to Amalia with a smile. "I wish I could practice like that. It would've really helped my studies years ago." She made her way to the table that Amalia sat at and took the teacup in both hands, letting the liquid warm her hands through the ceramic. She tilted it around, swirling the liquid in the cup and taking in its particularly strong scent. "I doubt that," she began, pulling the tea closer to her face, letting the steam wash over her face. "Your craftsmanship is immaculate, as always. You're just putting it to use elsewhere." She took a sip of the tea in her hand and her eyes widened from the taste. The spice was potent, but not unpleasant.
"I'm fond of the one I have now, I'm satisfied with it really. It saved my life more times than I'm comfortable admitting," because the fact that it needed to save her life at all hinted at the dangerous life she led. She would not lie to herself and believe that it was behind her either, it would probably save her again at some point in the future. She set the teacup back onto the table and laid the arm with the bracer beside it so that Amalia could get a better look. "It might not be decorated, but it still has a story." The leather was worn, but still strong like the dragon that it came from. Scuffs marred its surface and indentations ran the length from fending off blows that would've ended her otherwise. "It's just not as pretty."
āIā¦ wasnāt thinking about that sort of thing, back then,ā Amalia admitted with a wry twist of her lip. āThings that serve a purpose were beautiful. Function was paramount, form only secondary.ā She paused, setting her cup down on the low table. Everything she owned, few things as those were, was a testament to that principle. Each item in her possession was plain, but exceedingly functional. There was no ornamentation, no flourish. Amalia folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them. At the little white scars that punctuated her tanned skin, from training or the errors of a green fighter or from Marcus.
But even when sheād been near to death and crawling out of a hole in the ground, she had been functional. Her body, her spirit, these things had served a purpose. It made it easier to live in her skin, believing that everyone else was wrong about what true worth was. Her form, like that of her tools or her teacups, was not aesthetically appealing, especially. At least sheād never been given indication that it was. But like her tools and her teacups, it served every purpose she bent it to, because it had been made for them. Her mind, her spirit, these were the same. But she found herself in a strange world now, one where form and function were not so easily separated, where sometimes, it was more useful to be beautiful than to be capable.
Where sometimes, it was just nice to be ornamented in some way beyond the necessary. She did not know exactly where that left her, and it made her feel strange. She had many new things to think about, of late, and it seemed that they were all connected in some way or another, and none left her quite so comfortable in her skin as sheād been half a year ago. Because it needed to do more things now, she needed to be more things. āPerhaps I see a little differently now.ā
A pause, and she seemed to fully exit her contemplations, fixing both eyes on Auroraās. āBut I do not think you came here to talk about leatherwork.ā
"About Sparrow actually," then realizing how that could sound considering how Sparrow was, Aurora raised a hand wave off any worry Amalia might've had. "She hasn't done anything, yet." She laughed and took another sip of her tea before continuing her thought. "She just made me realize that I'm not all that great of a teacher." There had been a lot of floundering in the clearing where they practiced their magic, and Aurora was pretty sure she made things worse by trying to explain how she did what she did. back in the Circle, she hadn't been that great of a student herself, and she hadn't been considered as one in line to become one of the mages to teach the apprentices.
Figuring that an explanation was necessary, she continued. "You've seen how Sparrow uses her magic, right? Well, I want to teach her a little control and focus to be able to utilize it like I do, but... Sparrow," she said bobbing her eyebrows up and down as explanation enough. "You taught me, and I watched you teach your viddathari and you're just so much better at it than I am. It's like you always know what to say and how to say it." She leaned back in her chair and threw her arm over the back and using the thumb on her other hand to press in between her brows. "I guess what I'm trying to ask is give me some hints on how to get through to her without sounding like a fool."
She let a moment pass and leaned forward again, adding something, "You can't teach her how to use magic like I can, but I can't teach her like this."
Amalia had a fair sense that Sparrow hadnāt caused any disasters recently. That Tranquil friend of his was usually there to make sure he didnāt, something that Amalia had gotten the immediate sense, all those years ago, he was capable of and would do to the extent truly required and no further. Strange, to be able to get that impression from so little interaction, but she did not believe she was wrong, even now. The rest of the explanation was honestly not something she had been expecting. Aurora was trying to teach Sparrow more effective use of his magic? Things did truly move in strange patterns sometimes. In some roundabout fashion, Sparrow was the reason Aurora had learned what she knew of control and discipline. Because Amalia had long ago noted what was missing in him, but been unable to impart it. So when she noted the same things missing in Aurora a decade later, she had not hesitated to make the attempt to rectify them. Perhaps that act would not have further-reaching consequences than she had ever expected.
āYou must not teach him to be like you. You must teach him to be like himself, only better. Approach him not from where you are and what you know, but where he is. Do not attempt to pull him to the place you occupy. He cannot be you any more than you can be me, and you should not want that. I did not.ā Amaliaās lips twitched, the bare beginnings of a smile. āNudge him from behind and let him chart the course himself. Steer where necessary, but he must be the driving force in his own transformation, must believe he accomplishes all of these things by his own strength, or it will not remain in place.ā The student was the real agent in the learning process, and the teacher only a resource they had to understand how to use.
āIf course correction should become necessary however, it is acceptable to beat him into it. Sometimes, students need a demonstration of just how much they do not know, lest they assume the reason you are not more aggressive is that they are too talented.ā The smile inched a little wider before it disappeared behind Amaliaās teacup.
"Well there's an image," Aurora said, leaning back with her hands on her lips trying to stifle the laughter. "Sparrow and I in a fist fight. She's got some muscle, though you couldn't tell from her frame." Composing herself well enough to continue the conversation, she leaned forward and held her teacup with both hands, hints of her laughter still present on the corners of her lips. The parallels were not lost on her, she knew that Amalia had known Sparrow before any of them, and now Aurora was attempting to teach the woman, just like Amalia had taught her. It was odd how things often worked out. "I don't think I could teach her to be like me. It would be hard to make her into something that's not her. Sparrow's a... Unique individual." However, she still nodded her understanding and accepted the idea.
She drew the teacup to her lips and left it at her lips for a time, digesting what she said. "It's not so much teaching as letting them learn, is it?"
"Precisely." Aurora would do just fine.