Skyhold was certainly an impressive fortress, as far as they went. Far from invulnerable, of courseâbut its weaknesses were fewer than Amalia had expected. She supposed perhaps the commander here would be interested in the results of her survey of it, were she inclined to share. She had some, if not much to say about siege weaponry, but as for the pathways an infiltrator of a more subtle sort would take, well... it would hardly be the first time she'd needed that sort of eye.
Her fingers trailed along the rough stones of the crenelation beside her, skimming over the top of the waist-height wall as she walked it. For a moment, she allowed herself to leave the thoughts of assassinations and tricky-but-manageable climbs behind and cast her eyes out over the vista.
Seldom had she ever seen a sight that reminded her so little of Par Vollen. Or even of Kirkwall. The sheer cliff dropped away beneath, mountain peaks clawing at the sky in the distance. Everything was blanketed in a thick layer of snow, and the darkness of the hour made the contrast all the starker when the moonlight shone off the mountainsides and canyons below. Her breath clouded out around her; the cold was certainly a potent reminder that she was not any place she knew well.
But she was home. Or close to it. She always was, these days, even when home was a long night watching a Venatori camp from high in a tree, only the sound of kadan's breathing nearby to remind her of it.
Amalia had learned many things. But perhaps the most important lesson she had ever learned was that home was not a place.
From somewhere below, she could hear familiar voices. It was almost nostalgic. Surprised by the feeling, Amalia blinked, turning herself and crossing to the inner side of the wall to look down. Sure enough, Aurora and Sparrow were walking near the other side of the wall below. A small smile touching her lips, Amalia hopped up quietly onto the crenelations on the inner side and crouched there. Torchlight from one of the nearby wall mounts washed over her back, throwing her shadow onto the ground beneath in a distended irregularity of shape. She wondered if they'd notice it.
From where she crouched, Amalia could make out a few words of their conversation, enough to understand the gist. It sounded as if Aurora was going over the day's drills with the other mages that looked to them for leadership. She was wrapped up tightly in a couple of layers of clothing to fight off the chill of the winter night, the crimson scarf she wore even back in Kirkwall clinging to her neck and chin tightly, while her hands were jammed into one of the folds of her coat.
It seemed that she was the first to notice the shadow between them. Whatever thought she was in the middle of conveying trailed off as her red head dipped toward it. A moment was spent staring at the shadow, most likely trying to figure out its shape. Eventually, she pointed it out for Sparrow and turned in order to try and find its cause. When she finally caught sight of Amalia, Aurora relaxed and let a smile slip onto her lips. "I thought you might've been one of the trainees," Aurora said while waving.
The top of Sparrowâs head also came into view as Aurora shifted towards the crenelations and looked upwards, following the shadow sheâd been staring at previously. There was a pause as she, too, looked up and caught sight of the crouched womanâthough soon enough the scar pulled at her face as a smile tugged at the corners of her lips, wrinkling the cornerâs of her murky eyes. Stray strands of white hair shadowed her features, making them difficult to read until she pushed them back behind her ears.
Only then did it read clearly. A gladness that rippled off her. Perhaps even relief. Itâd been ages since theyâd seen each other, perhaps longer than the others. It only made sense, that even though Sparrow hadnât been the best at contacting the others⊠she probably thought about them more than she let on. Her features were more hardened than Amalia remembered. She, too, had chosen to wear a warmer fare of clothes suited for Skyholdâs nippy weather. Sheâd chosen a similar leather vest with fur trimmings, but carried a patchwork of furs that made up a cape, thrown over her shoulder and clasped at her breastbone. A copper sigil in the form of a sparrow.
âCaught you, then. Why donât you come down?â There was a hint of a tease, as she crossed her arms over her chest.
"Do your pupils ordinarily preoccupy themselves climbing walls at night?" Amalia arched an eyebrow, though it would likely be impossible for them to see. Her voice carried despite being rather quiet, though, so the skepticism would be obvious enough in her tone.
Gauging the distance down, Amalia exhaled softly and swung over the side, catching herself on the edge to hang for a controlled moment before dropping the rest of the way. She landed softly, letting herself fold into a roll rather than trying to keep her feet. It wasn't as far down on the inside as the outside, obviously, but it would still be bad if someone landed poorly.
Flowing back into a stand, she found herself much closer to the both of them than she had been. "Far be it from me to say what would be best for them, but it would be an odd training exercise."
"I mean, I don't make them do it," Aurora said, offering Sparrow a teasing smile.
There was a soft chuckle at her side, Sparrow lifted one of her shoulders in a half-shrug and eyed Amalia as she straightened back up, âAdmit it, it would come in handy. Sneaky mages in the dead of night.â
Amalia could think of one sneaky mage who worked in the dead of night. The fewer like him, the better. But that wasn't the point, and doubtless Sparrow had not intended to make her think of him. Of Marcus. She knew little of him to begin with. Better that it stay that way, and remain unmentioned.
Before Sparrow could say anything more, she stepped away from Auroraâs side and drew Amalia into a tight, bear hug. Rather spur of the momentâfrom the feel of it. Awkward. Odd, perhaps from disuse. Though sheâd lost much of her stocky frame, she was still able to lift her off the ground. It didnât last long and she certainly didnât linger, almost looking abashed when she retracted her steps and rubbed at her shoulder. She asked no questions of where sheâd been or why sheâd suddenly appeared, most likely, because sheâd already heard from someone else.
âTheyâre doing well. Our trainees,â she rubbed at her chin and hooked a thumb at Aurora, âthough sheâs far kinder to them than I. Suppose theyâd lack finesse, and⊠discipline otherwise.â
Amalia remained where she was as Sparrow retreated like ebb tide. Always the stone, she. Always the shore. Molded only slowly, and with time. Perhaps it should have surprised her, to learn that this difference in Sparrow's demeanor had bled so far into the world around her, but it didn't. There was a certain kind of hardness only possible for those who lived selfishly, clinging on to everything they could, for fear of losing what mattered. Sometimes, Amalia saw the same hardness in herself.
"Each appropriate in its time, I am sure." She had no inclination to tell them what to do, in any case. Amalia herself was no longer anyone's teacher. Only time would tell if it was a mantle she'd ever wear again.
But the night air was crisp in her lungs, and unlike walking, standing still threatened to chill her more than she wished to endure at the moment. "You were walking somewhere. Shall we continue on your path?"
"Of course," Aurora answered, sliding the scarf from around her neck up around her mouth and nose. The winters were sharper in the Frostbacks than they were in Kirkwall, and Aurora still hadn't seemed to acclimate to it yet. She did not appear to be about to complain about it however, and simply spoke louder so that her voice would carry through the cloth. "We were heading back to our quarters," she added.
She laughed quietly, mostly to herself after that. "We've come a long way from Kirkwall," Aurora noted absently. She considered Amalia again, this time with a reflective look gracing her exposed features. "Used to be, we had to teach mages in secret, far away from the prying eyes of the Templars. Now," Aurora stated, and gestured with a tilt of her toward a small grouping of soldiers. They had built a fire and currently sat around it, sharing a bottle of some nature. Though they were without armor, it was clear from their attire, and from the few swords that rested nearby that they were Templars. As they passed, one of them noticed them and offered Aurora a salute, one which she easily returned.
"Well. Now things are different."
Amalia blinked, glancing aside at the seated men for a moment. She didn't drop her guard when they moved past, and even after they'd left them behind, she kept some attention behind. An automatic thing, for herself, but even so...
"Is it really so different?" she asked, adjusting her cloak so that it let in less of the outside air. "So easy? They do not seem so dissimilar to the templars who stalked the Alienage. Nor the ones who made Millian a tranquil." Perhaps the comparison was unfair, but Amalia was of the firm belief that an overabundance of caution was preferable to too little. Far less likely to get oneself killed, in any case. "They worship the same god. Recite the same Chant. Wield the same powers. What makes them safer for your charges than any of those before them?"
Sparrow had chosen to take the lead and walked a few paces ahead of them, hands poised at her back with her hands crossed over one another. Her eyes roved the horizon and glanced sidelong towards the Templars lounging at the side, though she only inclined her head in a nod instead of offering her own salute. Ages spent god-knows-where hadnât made her a soldier, and it was obvious by the tilt to her chin that she wouldnât start acting like one now, even with an army at their sides.
She remained somewhat quiet as Amalia posed her questionâperhaps, she too shared the same sentiment. Or perhaps she simply trusted Aurora to come up with a far more civil, considerate answer. Her methods had been questionable in Kirkwall and there was no indication that sheâd changed all that much; aside from her brisk demeanor. The hardness sheâd seen etched across her face attested to that. Besides, it was difficult to read her expression from the back of her head, but the slight, shadowed pull to the side of her face may have indicated a smile: gone as quickly as it had come.
âThe Inquisition is whatâs different.â She drew one of her hands away from behind her back and glanced over her shoulder, âItâs a balance. A delicate one; but we all walk the same path here. For now, in any case.â
Amalia exhaled a short breath through her noseâneither sharp enough to be derisive nor prolonged enough to be a sigh. She shook her head, a faint motion difficult to catch in the low light. "And when this is done? You believe they will rest content with your freedom?" Sparrow didn't seem to, which was good. It would be strikingly naĂŻve to presume as much. It already seemed naĂŻve to cooperate so readily now. Amalia of all people understood that getting too close to people who might be your enemies one day was a very good way to become knocked off one's path.
Sometimes, it no doubt worked out for the better. But when so much was at stake...
"I hope," Aurora answered, though something lingered in her tone. "I hope the peace we achieved here will last after we defeat Corypheus, and I've tried do things here so that might be possible." She sighed then, her breath visible through the scarf she breathed through. "I don't want my mages to have to live their lives constantly worrying about the Templars. Ideally, I'd want them to find some measure of peace after this is done. Heaven knows they deserve it, and I will do everything that I can to try to give it to them," she said, with a familiar determination to both her words and in her green eyes.
She then glanced at Amalia, her brows knitted together, "But don't mistake my optimism for blindness. We've had to fight ever since we left Kirkwall, and if we have to continue to, so be it," she glanced behind them, and at the fading fire of the Templars, "I still watch them. I have more people than just myself to keep safe now, and I will see that any threat they face will not come from the inside."
Aurora shook her hands then, perhaps trying to knock the cold out of them, before jamming them both into her coat. "Something will have to change if we ever want to live with some measure of peace, but that does not mean we're blind to the dangers. We've been through too much for that."
âWhen arenât we fighting for something? Freedom. Peace. Rights. A cause.â Sparrow sniffed at the cold air and pulled the furred cloak tighter around her face, huffing against it. It seemed as if it was a rhetorical question and one she didnât particularly mind. There was a sense that if she wasnât doing so, sheâd be lost. After all, peace was a peculiar notion for people like them. Trouble always seemed to follow at their heels.
âBesides, we were never the type to give up. We wonât start now.â
Amalia hummed noncommittally, still not convinced, but there was no point in continuing to aggravate the matter, and she let it drop. If anyone was aware of the danger, Aurora surely was, and clearly Sparrow expected things to sour at some point. Let them do as they thought best with the information. The three of them were approaching the mages' quarters anyway, and there was something she wanted to bring up.
"In my survey of the defenses here, I noted a number of vulnerabilities in this tower. I will show them to you, so that you may decide what to do about them." Whether she ever met with the commander here or not, she had always intended to convey this much. She, too, had her obligations.
Some of them were not onerous at all.
Her fingers trailed along the rough stones of the crenelation beside her, skimming over the top of the waist-height wall as she walked it. For a moment, she allowed herself to leave the thoughts of assassinations and tricky-but-manageable climbs behind and cast her eyes out over the vista.
Seldom had she ever seen a sight that reminded her so little of Par Vollen. Or even of Kirkwall. The sheer cliff dropped away beneath, mountain peaks clawing at the sky in the distance. Everything was blanketed in a thick layer of snow, and the darkness of the hour made the contrast all the starker when the moonlight shone off the mountainsides and canyons below. Her breath clouded out around her; the cold was certainly a potent reminder that she was not any place she knew well.
But she was home. Or close to it. She always was, these days, even when home was a long night watching a Venatori camp from high in a tree, only the sound of kadan's breathing nearby to remind her of it.
Amalia had learned many things. But perhaps the most important lesson she had ever learned was that home was not a place.
From somewhere below, she could hear familiar voices. It was almost nostalgic. Surprised by the feeling, Amalia blinked, turning herself and crossing to the inner side of the wall to look down. Sure enough, Aurora and Sparrow were walking near the other side of the wall below. A small smile touching her lips, Amalia hopped up quietly onto the crenelations on the inner side and crouched there. Torchlight from one of the nearby wall mounts washed over her back, throwing her shadow onto the ground beneath in a distended irregularity of shape. She wondered if they'd notice it.
From where she crouched, Amalia could make out a few words of their conversation, enough to understand the gist. It sounded as if Aurora was going over the day's drills with the other mages that looked to them for leadership. She was wrapped up tightly in a couple of layers of clothing to fight off the chill of the winter night, the crimson scarf she wore even back in Kirkwall clinging to her neck and chin tightly, while her hands were jammed into one of the folds of her coat.
It seemed that she was the first to notice the shadow between them. Whatever thought she was in the middle of conveying trailed off as her red head dipped toward it. A moment was spent staring at the shadow, most likely trying to figure out its shape. Eventually, she pointed it out for Sparrow and turned in order to try and find its cause. When she finally caught sight of Amalia, Aurora relaxed and let a smile slip onto her lips. "I thought you might've been one of the trainees," Aurora said while waving.
The top of Sparrowâs head also came into view as Aurora shifted towards the crenelations and looked upwards, following the shadow sheâd been staring at previously. There was a pause as she, too, looked up and caught sight of the crouched womanâthough soon enough the scar pulled at her face as a smile tugged at the corners of her lips, wrinkling the cornerâs of her murky eyes. Stray strands of white hair shadowed her features, making them difficult to read until she pushed them back behind her ears.
Only then did it read clearly. A gladness that rippled off her. Perhaps even relief. Itâd been ages since theyâd seen each other, perhaps longer than the others. It only made sense, that even though Sparrow hadnât been the best at contacting the others⊠she probably thought about them more than she let on. Her features were more hardened than Amalia remembered. She, too, had chosen to wear a warmer fare of clothes suited for Skyholdâs nippy weather. Sheâd chosen a similar leather vest with fur trimmings, but carried a patchwork of furs that made up a cape, thrown over her shoulder and clasped at her breastbone. A copper sigil in the form of a sparrow.
âCaught you, then. Why donât you come down?â There was a hint of a tease, as she crossed her arms over her chest.
"Do your pupils ordinarily preoccupy themselves climbing walls at night?" Amalia arched an eyebrow, though it would likely be impossible for them to see. Her voice carried despite being rather quiet, though, so the skepticism would be obvious enough in her tone.
Gauging the distance down, Amalia exhaled softly and swung over the side, catching herself on the edge to hang for a controlled moment before dropping the rest of the way. She landed softly, letting herself fold into a roll rather than trying to keep her feet. It wasn't as far down on the inside as the outside, obviously, but it would still be bad if someone landed poorly.
Flowing back into a stand, she found herself much closer to the both of them than she had been. "Far be it from me to say what would be best for them, but it would be an odd training exercise."
"I mean, I don't make them do it," Aurora said, offering Sparrow a teasing smile.
There was a soft chuckle at her side, Sparrow lifted one of her shoulders in a half-shrug and eyed Amalia as she straightened back up, âAdmit it, it would come in handy. Sneaky mages in the dead of night.â
Amalia could think of one sneaky mage who worked in the dead of night. The fewer like him, the better. But that wasn't the point, and doubtless Sparrow had not intended to make her think of him. Of Marcus. She knew little of him to begin with. Better that it stay that way, and remain unmentioned.
Before Sparrow could say anything more, she stepped away from Auroraâs side and drew Amalia into a tight, bear hug. Rather spur of the momentâfrom the feel of it. Awkward. Odd, perhaps from disuse. Though sheâd lost much of her stocky frame, she was still able to lift her off the ground. It didnât last long and she certainly didnât linger, almost looking abashed when she retracted her steps and rubbed at her shoulder. She asked no questions of where sheâd been or why sheâd suddenly appeared, most likely, because sheâd already heard from someone else.
âTheyâre doing well. Our trainees,â she rubbed at her chin and hooked a thumb at Aurora, âthough sheâs far kinder to them than I. Suppose theyâd lack finesse, and⊠discipline otherwise.â
Amalia remained where she was as Sparrow retreated like ebb tide. Always the stone, she. Always the shore. Molded only slowly, and with time. Perhaps it should have surprised her, to learn that this difference in Sparrow's demeanor had bled so far into the world around her, but it didn't. There was a certain kind of hardness only possible for those who lived selfishly, clinging on to everything they could, for fear of losing what mattered. Sometimes, Amalia saw the same hardness in herself.
"Each appropriate in its time, I am sure." She had no inclination to tell them what to do, in any case. Amalia herself was no longer anyone's teacher. Only time would tell if it was a mantle she'd ever wear again.
But the night air was crisp in her lungs, and unlike walking, standing still threatened to chill her more than she wished to endure at the moment. "You were walking somewhere. Shall we continue on your path?"
"Of course," Aurora answered, sliding the scarf from around her neck up around her mouth and nose. The winters were sharper in the Frostbacks than they were in Kirkwall, and Aurora still hadn't seemed to acclimate to it yet. She did not appear to be about to complain about it however, and simply spoke louder so that her voice would carry through the cloth. "We were heading back to our quarters," she added.
She laughed quietly, mostly to herself after that. "We've come a long way from Kirkwall," Aurora noted absently. She considered Amalia again, this time with a reflective look gracing her exposed features. "Used to be, we had to teach mages in secret, far away from the prying eyes of the Templars. Now," Aurora stated, and gestured with a tilt of her toward a small grouping of soldiers. They had built a fire and currently sat around it, sharing a bottle of some nature. Though they were without armor, it was clear from their attire, and from the few swords that rested nearby that they were Templars. As they passed, one of them noticed them and offered Aurora a salute, one which she easily returned.
"Well. Now things are different."
Amalia blinked, glancing aside at the seated men for a moment. She didn't drop her guard when they moved past, and even after they'd left them behind, she kept some attention behind. An automatic thing, for herself, but even so...
"Is it really so different?" she asked, adjusting her cloak so that it let in less of the outside air. "So easy? They do not seem so dissimilar to the templars who stalked the Alienage. Nor the ones who made Millian a tranquil." Perhaps the comparison was unfair, but Amalia was of the firm belief that an overabundance of caution was preferable to too little. Far less likely to get oneself killed, in any case. "They worship the same god. Recite the same Chant. Wield the same powers. What makes them safer for your charges than any of those before them?"
Sparrow had chosen to take the lead and walked a few paces ahead of them, hands poised at her back with her hands crossed over one another. Her eyes roved the horizon and glanced sidelong towards the Templars lounging at the side, though she only inclined her head in a nod instead of offering her own salute. Ages spent god-knows-where hadnât made her a soldier, and it was obvious by the tilt to her chin that she wouldnât start acting like one now, even with an army at their sides.
She remained somewhat quiet as Amalia posed her questionâperhaps, she too shared the same sentiment. Or perhaps she simply trusted Aurora to come up with a far more civil, considerate answer. Her methods had been questionable in Kirkwall and there was no indication that sheâd changed all that much; aside from her brisk demeanor. The hardness sheâd seen etched across her face attested to that. Besides, it was difficult to read her expression from the back of her head, but the slight, shadowed pull to the side of her face may have indicated a smile: gone as quickly as it had come.
âThe Inquisition is whatâs different.â She drew one of her hands away from behind her back and glanced over her shoulder, âItâs a balance. A delicate one; but we all walk the same path here. For now, in any case.â
Amalia exhaled a short breath through her noseâneither sharp enough to be derisive nor prolonged enough to be a sigh. She shook her head, a faint motion difficult to catch in the low light. "And when this is done? You believe they will rest content with your freedom?" Sparrow didn't seem to, which was good. It would be strikingly naĂŻve to presume as much. It already seemed naĂŻve to cooperate so readily now. Amalia of all people understood that getting too close to people who might be your enemies one day was a very good way to become knocked off one's path.
Sometimes, it no doubt worked out for the better. But when so much was at stake...
"I hope," Aurora answered, though something lingered in her tone. "I hope the peace we achieved here will last after we defeat Corypheus, and I've tried do things here so that might be possible." She sighed then, her breath visible through the scarf she breathed through. "I don't want my mages to have to live their lives constantly worrying about the Templars. Ideally, I'd want them to find some measure of peace after this is done. Heaven knows they deserve it, and I will do everything that I can to try to give it to them," she said, with a familiar determination to both her words and in her green eyes.
She then glanced at Amalia, her brows knitted together, "But don't mistake my optimism for blindness. We've had to fight ever since we left Kirkwall, and if we have to continue to, so be it," she glanced behind them, and at the fading fire of the Templars, "I still watch them. I have more people than just myself to keep safe now, and I will see that any threat they face will not come from the inside."
Aurora shook her hands then, perhaps trying to knock the cold out of them, before jamming them both into her coat. "Something will have to change if we ever want to live with some measure of peace, but that does not mean we're blind to the dangers. We've been through too much for that."
âWhen arenât we fighting for something? Freedom. Peace. Rights. A cause.â Sparrow sniffed at the cold air and pulled the furred cloak tighter around her face, huffing against it. It seemed as if it was a rhetorical question and one she didnât particularly mind. There was a sense that if she wasnât doing so, sheâd be lost. After all, peace was a peculiar notion for people like them. Trouble always seemed to follow at their heels.
âBesides, we were never the type to give up. We wonât start now.â
Amalia hummed noncommittally, still not convinced, but there was no point in continuing to aggravate the matter, and she let it drop. If anyone was aware of the danger, Aurora surely was, and clearly Sparrow expected things to sour at some point. Let them do as they thought best with the information. The three of them were approaching the mages' quarters anyway, and there was something she wanted to bring up.
"In my survey of the defenses here, I noted a number of vulnerabilities in this tower. I will show them to you, so that you may decide what to do about them." Whether she ever met with the commander here or not, she had always intended to convey this much. She, too, had her obligations.
Some of them were not onerous at all.