It didn't take her as long as she thought to settle back into Kirkwall. It only took Aurora a month and a few weeks to feel like she never left at all. She did leave, and she carried those memories with her, but it felt... Nice, to be back as odd as that was. Kirkwall was much the same as when she left it, except Templars wandered the streets more often now. There was still a pressure in the air, not from the Qunari this time, but something else. The Templars, if she had her guess. Still she felt better, and it all felt ordinary in an unordinary type of way. She had left her exercises-- both conventional and magical-- for the day and approached an all too familiar path up to Hightown.
She navigated the city like she never left and found her destination with ease. She looked up at the signage and tutted, like she usually did when she read Rilien's Enchantment She couldn't tell if it was Rilien's idea, or Sandal's. Shaking her head she opened the door and walked in, and was greeted by the boy and his father. "Is Rilien in?" She asked Bodahn.
“He is, Miss. Should be back in a few minutes,” Bodahn said with a friendly smile. Sandal, bent over a dwarf-scaled workbench, glanced up for a moment, contributing a brief “Enchantment?” before going back to whatever he was doing, which in this case seemed to be runecarving. The stone itself was deep blue, but the etching Sandal was adding appeared to be giving some of the areas a silver tint. The shop seemed to be doing fairly good business, though that was really only discernible from the neat stack of work orders on one of the counters, as everything else was as meticulously-neat as it would have been had the shop been open but one day. Everything was polished and clean, as though dirt were a mortal foe to it proprietor.
It did indeed, only take Rilien two more minutes to appear, burdened down with what appeared to be a shipment of glass bottles, presumably for the potions he continued to brew on the side. Setting these down behind the counter, he raised his head only afterward to look in Aurora’s direction, though he had doubtless been aware of her presence, unconcealed as it was. As usual, his face betrayed nothing whatsoever in the way of emotion or surprise. It was as though he’d been expecting her.
He did not bother pointing out the obvious, making a banal observation about her return, so instead, he made his way to the stairs, gesturing for her to follow, should she so desire. The upstairs was just as clean and neat as the shop below, but curiously, there were touches of unnecessary decoration and sentimentality in the space as well. A well-maintained lute was propped up in one corner, the furnishings made of rich fabric in deep colors, contrasting with the pale stone of the walls. A few pieces of art, likely made by Lucien, were hanging on the walls, including sketches of various Orlesian landscapes, and a few images of people in various situations, usually ones that would have been familiar to Aurora at least by word-of-mouth. A large bookshelf sat against one wall, part of it seemingly devoted to odds and ends, trinkets that had no other place to be.
"You are welcome to make yourself comfortable.” Rilien's intonation was also exactly the same as ever. "Though I have little to offer you.”
Aurora followed obediently, not expecting any fanfare due to her return so she wasn't surprised when it didn't come. Up the stairs they went into a room she never seen before. She noted the painting and guessed that the hand that painted them was Lucien's. Likewise, she had one of her own in her own home, though she would've liked more but had no where to fit them in her small quarters. The next thing she noted was a bookshelf of what she could only describe as knick-knacks. She looked at it for a moment before glancing toward Rilien with an arched brow. He certainly did not seem like a collector of sorts to her, but then again he had a habit of surprising her.
She approached the bookshelf to get a better look at its contents. Some of it was as she thought, knick-knacks, baubles of little importance to anyone but the collector. She picked over some of them with her eyes, noting the dragon claw that probably came from his run in with the one in the Deep Roads. Another item that caught her attention was an illuminated copy of the Chant, craning her head at the book. She was not especially religious, nor did she figure Rilien was, so it was odd that he would have such an item. She turned back with a grin and an inquisitive look. "I didn't know you were a collector."
"I am not.” The reply was flat, but nevertheless, he flicked his eyes to the shelf she was at. The rest of them had books, of course, but that one was, admittedly, quite different. "With the exception of the claw, all of those items were given to me. As I do not make a habit of procuring such things for myself, I do not have another place to put them.” It was precisely because he wasn’t a collector that he had the issue. He blinked slowly, then settled himself down in a chair, crossing one of his ankles over the other knee. He looked very much like he belonged in the space, with its obviously-elegant taste in décor. Perhaps a little more surprising to those who knew him now than those who had known him before.
"The panpipes were a gift to signal the end of my bard training. The copy of the Chant is older, and represents a more misguided attempt. I was not an obedient youth, but the illumination is an excellent example, and I realize its value now even if I did not at the time. The halla was from a child, several years ago.” There was a small pause. "The earring belonged to a friend. Perhaps its match still does.” He tossed his head slightly; his fringe was getting a bit long, and the rest of his hair now hit his shoulders, which meant it was occasionally in the way.
"If this is about what I gave you before you left, you need not concern yourself with returning the amount. It was not a loan.”
She ventured one last glance at the shelf before turning back toward him. Though she was curious about the origins of a few of the items, she did not want to pry too far. Rilien would most likely share the story behind them, but for Aurora, the respect of his privacy outweighed her own personal curiosity. Besides that, it was fun, always finding out something new about them every time they met and she would hate to suck the magic out of that by asking him about it. She enjoyed these little adventures he took her own.
"Consider it a gift then, since you don't like to return those," she said with the purse in hand. She crossed the room and set it in his lap before backing up and finding herself a chair of her own. He'd find that the purse was heavier than the one he'd given her. "Plus interest. My brother insisted that we pay that as well," She explained, and there hadn't been any refusal on her end. It would've been much harder to find passage to Bastion, much less paying off people curious as to why she travelled with a tranquil. "Don't worry about it, I would only be asking to get mugged if I carried that much around with me and my family are well enough off to not miss it."
She paused for a moment to allow time to pass in order to change the topic without jumping from one to the order. "Hey Rilien, before we left you told me you dreamed. I didn't think anything about it at the time," She had other things weighing on her mind, that the realization that a tranquil, even one with a partial rite, still dreamed was pushed back. But now she was back and her mind was at more ease than it had been. She was curious, and this she didn't mind prying. "What do you dream of, if you don't mind my asking."
The truth was, Rilien wouldn’t miss this much either, but he supposed by this point saying as much was rather unlikely to change anything. So he tucked the satchel up his sleeve, deciding that if he were going to refuse it, he would have to do so in a more subtle fashion, one to be decided upon later. For the moment, he was presented with a question, one that, strangely enough, he had never been asked. Then again, he was unsure that anyone else knew he dreamed. It was not as though he went about divulging such details to anyone who would listen. It had seemed somehow relevant at the time of their last conversation, and so he’d said it. That was really it—though admittedly, it was not something he would have disclosed to many people, whatever its conversational salience.
The question was completely unnecessary, but he answered it anyway. "My contact with the Fade is extremely limited.” Which would be expected, considering his condition. The strange things, he supposed, was that he had any contact with it at all. "I do not pass quite beyond the Veil. It is more that it is… translucent, at times.” The most explanatory metaphor seemed to be that one. He could see into it, just a little, but never enter the way mages did, nor those that had access to the full range of dreams.
"My dreams are more like memories, variants of things that have already been.” He paused, folding his hands together beneath his chin. "Sometimes, they are of what might have been, were I whole. Everything in them is available to my own mind—they are things I have seen or thought. But like all dreams, they are not entirely within my control. And I do not choose whether or not to have them, so they are not mere memory or conjecture.” He supposed they would disquiet him, were he not already so inured to emotion. Not everyone would desire to see their most unpleasant memories replayed for them over and over again, nor, he thought, would they enjoy being tantalized with visions of what was always sweetly beyond their reach.
Not even he was entirely unaffected, but then, there was little to be done.
It sounded sad when he said it like that. To be taunted by your own dreams of things that could've been or to be reminded of the things that were. Aurora felt a sliver of pity for the man. She didn't see how someone without their emotions suppressed could endure it, but Rilien could. Even so, by his own admission, he felt something at times, just not as fully as another person. While there was no way for Aurora to understand what it felt like without being him, she felt sorry for that piece of him.
"Is that why you can feel magic like you do?" She asked. Milly never displayed that ability, or if she did, she never told Aurora. It was strange, how he could know it's her without looking by her magic.
"It is impossible to say for certain, but I believe so.” It was not as though there were other people out there with half-completed Rites of Tranquility for him to compare himself with. "It is like… a scent. To the uninformed, all flowers smell more or less the same, but to someone who pays enough attention, each one is different. I do not actually smell magic, of course, but each mage is similarly unique, if I attend to what I perceive. If I am around it enough, I recognize it thereafter as belonging to the specific person.” He could even tell the difference between a healing spell and a destructive one, if he knew what the person’s magic usually felt like. Much less so on strangers.
"She is well, then?” It was not necessary to specify who she was.
"She... Is." There was a hesitance in the answer, but to the extent of her knowledge it was true. The last time she saw Milly, it was her back as she walked toward the Antivan Circle as the tears welled up in her eyes. "It was hard, letting her go like that." Aurora's gaze fell to her lap as she shook her life. Those few months were the hardest she could remember, maybe matched only by the weeks following her own introduction to the Circle, though the feeling was much the same. Loss. "I felt like I was abandoning her, but she would do better there than here. I couldn't watch over her." She'd already failed once, she couldn't bear it if it happened again. The Circle would care for her and keep her safe.
Looking up from her lap, her eyes went to one of the windows and nodded to herself. "I believe I've taken up more than enough of your time Rilien," she said with a smile, rising out of her chair. She placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze, "Thanks for your help, I don't know if I could've gotten home without it." With that she turned toward the door and began to make her way out, before she stopped mid-step and paused in thought.
"Hey Rilien... If you... sense any other mages that look like they need help... Give them my name and tell them where to find me." Though she couldn't help Milly, there were other apostates that she could.
"As you wish."
She navigated the city like she never left and found her destination with ease. She looked up at the signage and tutted, like she usually did when she read Rilien's Enchantment She couldn't tell if it was Rilien's idea, or Sandal's. Shaking her head she opened the door and walked in, and was greeted by the boy and his father. "Is Rilien in?" She asked Bodahn.
“He is, Miss. Should be back in a few minutes,” Bodahn said with a friendly smile. Sandal, bent over a dwarf-scaled workbench, glanced up for a moment, contributing a brief “Enchantment?” before going back to whatever he was doing, which in this case seemed to be runecarving. The stone itself was deep blue, but the etching Sandal was adding appeared to be giving some of the areas a silver tint. The shop seemed to be doing fairly good business, though that was really only discernible from the neat stack of work orders on one of the counters, as everything else was as meticulously-neat as it would have been had the shop been open but one day. Everything was polished and clean, as though dirt were a mortal foe to it proprietor.
It did indeed, only take Rilien two more minutes to appear, burdened down with what appeared to be a shipment of glass bottles, presumably for the potions he continued to brew on the side. Setting these down behind the counter, he raised his head only afterward to look in Aurora’s direction, though he had doubtless been aware of her presence, unconcealed as it was. As usual, his face betrayed nothing whatsoever in the way of emotion or surprise. It was as though he’d been expecting her.
He did not bother pointing out the obvious, making a banal observation about her return, so instead, he made his way to the stairs, gesturing for her to follow, should she so desire. The upstairs was just as clean and neat as the shop below, but curiously, there were touches of unnecessary decoration and sentimentality in the space as well. A well-maintained lute was propped up in one corner, the furnishings made of rich fabric in deep colors, contrasting with the pale stone of the walls. A few pieces of art, likely made by Lucien, were hanging on the walls, including sketches of various Orlesian landscapes, and a few images of people in various situations, usually ones that would have been familiar to Aurora at least by word-of-mouth. A large bookshelf sat against one wall, part of it seemingly devoted to odds and ends, trinkets that had no other place to be.
"You are welcome to make yourself comfortable.” Rilien's intonation was also exactly the same as ever. "Though I have little to offer you.”
Aurora followed obediently, not expecting any fanfare due to her return so she wasn't surprised when it didn't come. Up the stairs they went into a room she never seen before. She noted the painting and guessed that the hand that painted them was Lucien's. Likewise, she had one of her own in her own home, though she would've liked more but had no where to fit them in her small quarters. The next thing she noted was a bookshelf of what she could only describe as knick-knacks. She looked at it for a moment before glancing toward Rilien with an arched brow. He certainly did not seem like a collector of sorts to her, but then again he had a habit of surprising her.
She approached the bookshelf to get a better look at its contents. Some of it was as she thought, knick-knacks, baubles of little importance to anyone but the collector. She picked over some of them with her eyes, noting the dragon claw that probably came from his run in with the one in the Deep Roads. Another item that caught her attention was an illuminated copy of the Chant, craning her head at the book. She was not especially religious, nor did she figure Rilien was, so it was odd that he would have such an item. She turned back with a grin and an inquisitive look. "I didn't know you were a collector."
"I am not.” The reply was flat, but nevertheless, he flicked his eyes to the shelf she was at. The rest of them had books, of course, but that one was, admittedly, quite different. "With the exception of the claw, all of those items were given to me. As I do not make a habit of procuring such things for myself, I do not have another place to put them.” It was precisely because he wasn’t a collector that he had the issue. He blinked slowly, then settled himself down in a chair, crossing one of his ankles over the other knee. He looked very much like he belonged in the space, with its obviously-elegant taste in décor. Perhaps a little more surprising to those who knew him now than those who had known him before.
"The panpipes were a gift to signal the end of my bard training. The copy of the Chant is older, and represents a more misguided attempt. I was not an obedient youth, but the illumination is an excellent example, and I realize its value now even if I did not at the time. The halla was from a child, several years ago.” There was a small pause. "The earring belonged to a friend. Perhaps its match still does.” He tossed his head slightly; his fringe was getting a bit long, and the rest of his hair now hit his shoulders, which meant it was occasionally in the way.
"If this is about what I gave you before you left, you need not concern yourself with returning the amount. It was not a loan.”
She ventured one last glance at the shelf before turning back toward him. Though she was curious about the origins of a few of the items, she did not want to pry too far. Rilien would most likely share the story behind them, but for Aurora, the respect of his privacy outweighed her own personal curiosity. Besides that, it was fun, always finding out something new about them every time they met and she would hate to suck the magic out of that by asking him about it. She enjoyed these little adventures he took her own.
"Consider it a gift then, since you don't like to return those," she said with the purse in hand. She crossed the room and set it in his lap before backing up and finding herself a chair of her own. He'd find that the purse was heavier than the one he'd given her. "Plus interest. My brother insisted that we pay that as well," She explained, and there hadn't been any refusal on her end. It would've been much harder to find passage to Bastion, much less paying off people curious as to why she travelled with a tranquil. "Don't worry about it, I would only be asking to get mugged if I carried that much around with me and my family are well enough off to not miss it."
She paused for a moment to allow time to pass in order to change the topic without jumping from one to the order. "Hey Rilien, before we left you told me you dreamed. I didn't think anything about it at the time," She had other things weighing on her mind, that the realization that a tranquil, even one with a partial rite, still dreamed was pushed back. But now she was back and her mind was at more ease than it had been. She was curious, and this she didn't mind prying. "What do you dream of, if you don't mind my asking."
The truth was, Rilien wouldn’t miss this much either, but he supposed by this point saying as much was rather unlikely to change anything. So he tucked the satchel up his sleeve, deciding that if he were going to refuse it, he would have to do so in a more subtle fashion, one to be decided upon later. For the moment, he was presented with a question, one that, strangely enough, he had never been asked. Then again, he was unsure that anyone else knew he dreamed. It was not as though he went about divulging such details to anyone who would listen. It had seemed somehow relevant at the time of their last conversation, and so he’d said it. That was really it—though admittedly, it was not something he would have disclosed to many people, whatever its conversational salience.
The question was completely unnecessary, but he answered it anyway. "My contact with the Fade is extremely limited.” Which would be expected, considering his condition. The strange things, he supposed, was that he had any contact with it at all. "I do not pass quite beyond the Veil. It is more that it is… translucent, at times.” The most explanatory metaphor seemed to be that one. He could see into it, just a little, but never enter the way mages did, nor those that had access to the full range of dreams.
"My dreams are more like memories, variants of things that have already been.” He paused, folding his hands together beneath his chin. "Sometimes, they are of what might have been, were I whole. Everything in them is available to my own mind—they are things I have seen or thought. But like all dreams, they are not entirely within my control. And I do not choose whether or not to have them, so they are not mere memory or conjecture.” He supposed they would disquiet him, were he not already so inured to emotion. Not everyone would desire to see their most unpleasant memories replayed for them over and over again, nor, he thought, would they enjoy being tantalized with visions of what was always sweetly beyond their reach.
Not even he was entirely unaffected, but then, there was little to be done.
It sounded sad when he said it like that. To be taunted by your own dreams of things that could've been or to be reminded of the things that were. Aurora felt a sliver of pity for the man. She didn't see how someone without their emotions suppressed could endure it, but Rilien could. Even so, by his own admission, he felt something at times, just not as fully as another person. While there was no way for Aurora to understand what it felt like without being him, she felt sorry for that piece of him.
"Is that why you can feel magic like you do?" She asked. Milly never displayed that ability, or if she did, she never told Aurora. It was strange, how he could know it's her without looking by her magic.
"It is impossible to say for certain, but I believe so.” It was not as though there were other people out there with half-completed Rites of Tranquility for him to compare himself with. "It is like… a scent. To the uninformed, all flowers smell more or less the same, but to someone who pays enough attention, each one is different. I do not actually smell magic, of course, but each mage is similarly unique, if I attend to what I perceive. If I am around it enough, I recognize it thereafter as belonging to the specific person.” He could even tell the difference between a healing spell and a destructive one, if he knew what the person’s magic usually felt like. Much less so on strangers.
"She is well, then?” It was not necessary to specify who she was.
"She... Is." There was a hesitance in the answer, but to the extent of her knowledge it was true. The last time she saw Milly, it was her back as she walked toward the Antivan Circle as the tears welled up in her eyes. "It was hard, letting her go like that." Aurora's gaze fell to her lap as she shook her life. Those few months were the hardest she could remember, maybe matched only by the weeks following her own introduction to the Circle, though the feeling was much the same. Loss. "I felt like I was abandoning her, but she would do better there than here. I couldn't watch over her." She'd already failed once, she couldn't bear it if it happened again. The Circle would care for her and keep her safe.
Looking up from her lap, her eyes went to one of the windows and nodded to herself. "I believe I've taken up more than enough of your time Rilien," she said with a smile, rising out of her chair. She placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze, "Thanks for your help, I don't know if I could've gotten home without it." With that she turned toward the door and began to make her way out, before she stopped mid-step and paused in thought.
"Hey Rilien... If you... sense any other mages that look like they need help... Give them my name and tell them where to find me." Though she couldn't help Milly, there were other apostates that she could.
"As you wish."