It wasnât as if Zahra often took no as an answer. At all. A pirateâs life was all about standing firm and overcoming the ebb and flow of the tides; even if the tides were a particularly stubborn friend who hoarded alchemic, little vials. Considering how adamant she was about nearly anything she wanted, she doubted it would be surprising to Rom that she was skulking down into Skyholdâs belly in order to ask him a question about all his fancy little bottles and their entreating abilities. Would he share them? No. That was for certain. That wasnât what she sought anyhow. His knowledge could be given for free, without so much as squandering his collection. Why wouldnât he? Unless it was some long lost family secret or an area of embarrassment⊠sharing with an ally would be the only considerate thing to do.
Friends shared, didnât they?
Of course, she wanted to become stronger. Become a better asset to her companions. To all of Skyhold. How could she do that if she was consistently ending up in Asalaâs clinic of no volition of her own? It was shameful. And she hardly felt ashamed. It just wasnât in her nature, and besides, how could he fault her for wanting to improve herself. She could practice her volleys until she was blue in the face, and twirl around with her rapiers until they became extensions of her arms, but somehow, she still felt it wouldnât be enough. That sinking feeling had felt heavier than an anchor in her gut, threatening to spill over into sad, miserable attempts to come up with a concoction herself.
Alas, sheâd probably end up dead.
Reaching the hallway to Româs thick-framed door, Zahra cleared her throat behind her fist and slowly trailed along the wall until she was standing just to the right of itâtrying to conjure up a reasonable argument of why he should help her out. Sheâd never been really good at those. Convincing arguments, asking for help or anything in between. Rather different than just taking what she wanted and stomping right out. Sheâd never stayed in one place long enough to warrant needing to, but now things were different and asking for help was something sheâd have to get used to. Rejection, as well.
She poised her hand over the door and paused for a moment. One, two, three beats passed. She inhaled deeply through her nose, and rapped her knuckles above the door handle, âRom? You in there?â
From inside came a sudden clinking of what sounded much like glass, or some other hard surface, followed by a brief pause. "Uh. Yeah." Rom's voice came out clearly, at least after the soft little noise of hesitation. "One second." What followed was the sound of a grinding, something knocking against stone, and then being set down on a table. True to his word, footfalls approached the door from the other side a moment later, a lock was turned, and the door swung open to reveal the room's sole occupant.
Rom had a shirt on this time, albeit one lacking sleeves, and his hands were oddly colored, more purple than their usual dusky tone, but definitely not from the cold. Some residue of some kind. He stood in the doorway for a moment, eyes rapidly taking things in. They glanced first to her hands, to see if she had anything, behind her to see if anyone was there, her eyes to gauge her intentions. All in the span of a second or two. Apparently satisfied enough, he turned and left the door open. "You can come in if you want, I just need to finish this here."
He seemed to be in the middle of something at his worktable, near the back of his room by the open mouth in the stone of the wall. A little cauldron sat on the table, and into this he slowly poured a dark liquid substance from a mortar, carefully, as though the rate was quite important.
Odd. Zahra was noticing that a lot of people had been looking at her like that lately. Did she look so suspicious? Sheâd been always under the impression that she only brought fun along with her, nothing as nefarious as the look Rom had given her. Mostly innocent, anyhow. Of course, she supposed this one was without ulterior motives. Certainly no teasing. Especially if she wanted him to cooperate with her.
She stepped inside, and shut it behind her with the side of her boot. Sheâd noticed the peculiar hue to Româs calloused hands, and as soon as he walked back towards the cauldron and hunched over it, she counted her lucky stars that he was right in the middle of what she was so interested in. Her movements were slow, languid. Careful, methodical. As if she were taking her time, mulling over an imagined conversation. If all ended in her favor, sheâd leave satisfied: knowledge in hand. In mind, rather.
âThanks,â she approached to the opposite end of the cauldron and looked into it. Not far enough to be a nuisance, but close enough to watch the dark liquid swirl into the mix. It looked rather complex. Something a sea-witch or mountain mage would do. Her mother. Her sisters. Certainly not her. âIf you donât mind me asking⊠where did you learn how to do this?â
"Same place I learned the rest of my skills," he answered, eyes never leaving his work. His tone didn't really hide his disdain, but it wasn't directed at Zahra, rather at the place in question, or something to do with it. Whether the precision was required or not, he held his hands with remarkable steadiness. When the last of it dripped into the cauldron he set down the mortar and picked up a large wooden spoon instead, using it to gently stir around the brew of whatever it was inside. "In Tevinter, from Magister Chryseis. She took a personal interest in molding me to her needs, and deemed use of somewhat experimental alchemy to be beneficial. Helped me be more threatening to her enemies."
After a few more moments of stirring, he rapped the wooden spoon twice on the rim of the cauldron to rid it of some excess, and set it aside. Taking the cauldron in both hands, he carried it over to a fireplace across the room and hung it on a fixture, letting the warm flames lick and wrap around the bottom of it. "Whatever she could teach me herself, she did. What she could not, she hired others for. I proved to be a good learner, for most of it." He walked over to a bucket on the floor next to his worktable half-filled with now dirty, discolored water, and rinsed his hands in it, mostly removing whatever residue was left on his hands. The rest came away when he wiped his hands on a towel.
"Did you need something?" He seemed in an open enough mood, but likely hadn't caught on that her opening question was anything more than small talk.
Ahâof course, thatâs where heâd been taught. A mistress who would invest so much in her servant sounded awfully strange to her. But having a servant in the first place did as well. She would never understand, so sheâd never profess to. Zahra rubbed at her jawline, watching him work with great intent. What an awful woman she mustâve been to elicit such a scowl. She felt somewhat bad for dredging up such awful memories; though it sifted away just as quickly when he cut through her thoughts.
She dropped her hand away from her face and eyed the cauldron set off to the side. The process was intriguing. Not that she understood any of it. Sheâd never been allowed to look over her motherâs shoulder when she busied herself in the garden, grinding unusual plants in her mortar and whispering soft-spoken words she couldnât understand. Seeing something so similar being done in front of her⊠felt stranger still. âI, uh,â she took a few steps to the side, and retraced them again, âI was wondering if you could show me how to do that too. Alchemy, I mean.â
Any attempt to smooth out the pinch to her brows failed miserably, because she didnât want to admit why, why she needed him to do this for her. Why couldnât she just continue doing what she was good at: shooting her bow, sailing the seas, not reaching out for more. This wasnât wealth or her ambitions or anything she could fit in her palms. Sheâd never wanted for strength before. Cunning had always been at her side, enabling her to circumvent any danger she could not weasel her way out of. Her gaze fell the floor, though she could feel her ears burning.
âI need to be stronger, Rom. Not just for myself. And this,â she swept her hands out wide, and shook her head, âisnât enough.â
"Isn't it?" was Rom's response after a long delay. He let the hand towel fall on the worktable, making his way towards the other side of the room. "You've never let me down. I don't think you've let any of the others down. Alchemy can't make you superhuman. And anything close will come at a steep price." He stopped in front of the fire, briefly glancing down at the pot to check the contents, before he grabbed a water skin on the mantelpiece. "I don't think you need to be anything, if you don't want to be."
He took a long drink, clearly thinking about something as he did so, and by the time he lowered the skin and wiped his mouth he'd settled on something else to say. "I can make potions for you, if you want. I'm sure you could get some from Rilien, too. If you really want me to teach you alchemy, though... I can try. I've never taught it to anyone else before." And if his previous words were anything to go by, he didn't have the best examples in terms of teachers to take after. Or at least, not the kindest. He had obviously learned much from his instructors.
"When you say you want to be stronger, do you mean that literally? There's no easy potion for that, but there are things that can help you get there faster."
Isnât it? Zahra had asked herself the same question before, because accepting something less was much easier than anything else. Doing what Khari did was much harderâimproving herself by throwing herself into any fray she could find. Utilizing any weapon she could get her hands on. Asala, too. Sheâd proven that she wasnât just a healer, by welcoming a spirit in her midst. Everyone had excelled in something and gone to greater heights, in order to protect something they thought was important. She couldnât afford to sit on the sidelines. Not anymore.
Even with Româs words, kind as they were⊠she certainly felt like she did, sometimes. Let them down. Let herself down. âI want to be more,â her voice had softened into a whisper as she halted her pacing and scrubbed a hand across the back of her neck, âIâm not looking for the impossible. Just better.â The words felt peculiar in her mouth. Her ambitions had always been selfish in nature; wild, intangible. She supposed thereâd been a change somewhere along the way. Not one sheâd easily noted. As if it crept up on her. She found that it wasnât very unpleasant. This doing things for others. This was for her crew, as well.
There was a moment where her eyes crinkled at the sides, and a laugh seemed ready at her lips. It hadnât bubbled its way out, though a smile was left in its wake. âLiterally. Figuratively. I donât want to fall behind. We can hardly afford that when weâre trying to save all of Thedas.â
She planted a hand on her hips, and blinked at the cobblestones lining the floor. The cracks in between. Sheâd often wondered why he, of all people, needed to use alchemy. What was he using it for, if he was already strong enough? âI would,â Zahra met his eyes, a determined jut to her chin, âlike you to teach me, that is. So, I can do it on my own.â Besides, she doubted that her presence would be welcome if she were always dragging herself to their doors.
"Okay then." Rom exhaled, rubbing at his head. He kept his hair always so close shaven now, even as they descended into winter. Personal preference, apparently. "We can start tomorrow, with the basics. I hope you're good at memorization. This can be dangerous if done the wrong way, so for now you'll practice in here, a few days a week. We can decide times later." As far as Zahra knew, the only other person regularly admitted into his quarters down here was Khari, to train in hand to hand and grappling, or just to talk. In that sense, the acceptance was rather larger than his casual tone was making it out to be.
"I can teach you how to make a lot of different potions or tonics when you're ready," he continued. "We'll probably start with stamina draughts, to help you train longer. After that we can move on in the direction you want." His expression became several degrees more serious then. "One thing you need to understand, though: nothing we make will be like the things I use. You won't be able to stand in an inferno and not get burned, or have lightning wash over you like water. There are some things I learned in Tevinter that I won't pass on. Certainly not to a beginner."
It was difficult to contain the excitement growing on her face, and as much as Zahra tried to wrestle it down into something more serious, the harder it became. Her hand brushed over her mouth. Smothering the smile behind her fingers, as she nodded her head. Listening. She supposed she had expected him to outright reject her request. Even if they were friends, they each had their own lines that shouldnât be crossed, âOf course, of course. Iâll be here.â
Her smile had softened as Rom finished his last words. That was not the kind of power she wanted. Even she had her limitations, and she would not ask him to part with anything that he felt he could not. Would not. As long as she could excel, improve. That was enough. âWhatever youâre willing to teach me, Iâll take it,â she dropped her hand from her face, and let out a breath she hadnât realized sheâd been holding in, âIf thereâs anything you ever need...â
A laugh sounded. Curt. Somewhat embarrassed. It wasnât likely sheâd ever have anything he needed. Though, debtsâshe was never fond of those.
âWhat I mean is, thank you, Rom. This means a lot.â
"You're welcome." He jerked his head sideways in a gesture. "Now get out of here, I've got work to do." Judging by his little grin and his tone, he meant it in an entirely friendly way.
Friends shared, didnât they?
Of course, she wanted to become stronger. Become a better asset to her companions. To all of Skyhold. How could she do that if she was consistently ending up in Asalaâs clinic of no volition of her own? It was shameful. And she hardly felt ashamed. It just wasnât in her nature, and besides, how could he fault her for wanting to improve herself. She could practice her volleys until she was blue in the face, and twirl around with her rapiers until they became extensions of her arms, but somehow, she still felt it wouldnât be enough. That sinking feeling had felt heavier than an anchor in her gut, threatening to spill over into sad, miserable attempts to come up with a concoction herself.
Alas, sheâd probably end up dead.
Reaching the hallway to Româs thick-framed door, Zahra cleared her throat behind her fist and slowly trailed along the wall until she was standing just to the right of itâtrying to conjure up a reasonable argument of why he should help her out. Sheâd never been really good at those. Convincing arguments, asking for help or anything in between. Rather different than just taking what she wanted and stomping right out. Sheâd never stayed in one place long enough to warrant needing to, but now things were different and asking for help was something sheâd have to get used to. Rejection, as well.
She poised her hand over the door and paused for a moment. One, two, three beats passed. She inhaled deeply through her nose, and rapped her knuckles above the door handle, âRom? You in there?â
From inside came a sudden clinking of what sounded much like glass, or some other hard surface, followed by a brief pause. "Uh. Yeah." Rom's voice came out clearly, at least after the soft little noise of hesitation. "One second." What followed was the sound of a grinding, something knocking against stone, and then being set down on a table. True to his word, footfalls approached the door from the other side a moment later, a lock was turned, and the door swung open to reveal the room's sole occupant.
Rom had a shirt on this time, albeit one lacking sleeves, and his hands were oddly colored, more purple than their usual dusky tone, but definitely not from the cold. Some residue of some kind. He stood in the doorway for a moment, eyes rapidly taking things in. They glanced first to her hands, to see if she had anything, behind her to see if anyone was there, her eyes to gauge her intentions. All in the span of a second or two. Apparently satisfied enough, he turned and left the door open. "You can come in if you want, I just need to finish this here."
He seemed to be in the middle of something at his worktable, near the back of his room by the open mouth in the stone of the wall. A little cauldron sat on the table, and into this he slowly poured a dark liquid substance from a mortar, carefully, as though the rate was quite important.
Odd. Zahra was noticing that a lot of people had been looking at her like that lately. Did she look so suspicious? Sheâd been always under the impression that she only brought fun along with her, nothing as nefarious as the look Rom had given her. Mostly innocent, anyhow. Of course, she supposed this one was without ulterior motives. Certainly no teasing. Especially if she wanted him to cooperate with her.
She stepped inside, and shut it behind her with the side of her boot. Sheâd noticed the peculiar hue to Româs calloused hands, and as soon as he walked back towards the cauldron and hunched over it, she counted her lucky stars that he was right in the middle of what she was so interested in. Her movements were slow, languid. Careful, methodical. As if she were taking her time, mulling over an imagined conversation. If all ended in her favor, sheâd leave satisfied: knowledge in hand. In mind, rather.
âThanks,â she approached to the opposite end of the cauldron and looked into it. Not far enough to be a nuisance, but close enough to watch the dark liquid swirl into the mix. It looked rather complex. Something a sea-witch or mountain mage would do. Her mother. Her sisters. Certainly not her. âIf you donât mind me asking⊠where did you learn how to do this?â
"Same place I learned the rest of my skills," he answered, eyes never leaving his work. His tone didn't really hide his disdain, but it wasn't directed at Zahra, rather at the place in question, or something to do with it. Whether the precision was required or not, he held his hands with remarkable steadiness. When the last of it dripped into the cauldron he set down the mortar and picked up a large wooden spoon instead, using it to gently stir around the brew of whatever it was inside. "In Tevinter, from Magister Chryseis. She took a personal interest in molding me to her needs, and deemed use of somewhat experimental alchemy to be beneficial. Helped me be more threatening to her enemies."
After a few more moments of stirring, he rapped the wooden spoon twice on the rim of the cauldron to rid it of some excess, and set it aside. Taking the cauldron in both hands, he carried it over to a fireplace across the room and hung it on a fixture, letting the warm flames lick and wrap around the bottom of it. "Whatever she could teach me herself, she did. What she could not, she hired others for. I proved to be a good learner, for most of it." He walked over to a bucket on the floor next to his worktable half-filled with now dirty, discolored water, and rinsed his hands in it, mostly removing whatever residue was left on his hands. The rest came away when he wiped his hands on a towel.
"Did you need something?" He seemed in an open enough mood, but likely hadn't caught on that her opening question was anything more than small talk.
Ahâof course, thatâs where heâd been taught. A mistress who would invest so much in her servant sounded awfully strange to her. But having a servant in the first place did as well. She would never understand, so sheâd never profess to. Zahra rubbed at her jawline, watching him work with great intent. What an awful woman she mustâve been to elicit such a scowl. She felt somewhat bad for dredging up such awful memories; though it sifted away just as quickly when he cut through her thoughts.
She dropped her hand away from her face and eyed the cauldron set off to the side. The process was intriguing. Not that she understood any of it. Sheâd never been allowed to look over her motherâs shoulder when she busied herself in the garden, grinding unusual plants in her mortar and whispering soft-spoken words she couldnât understand. Seeing something so similar being done in front of her⊠felt stranger still. âI, uh,â she took a few steps to the side, and retraced them again, âI was wondering if you could show me how to do that too. Alchemy, I mean.â
Any attempt to smooth out the pinch to her brows failed miserably, because she didnât want to admit why, why she needed him to do this for her. Why couldnât she just continue doing what she was good at: shooting her bow, sailing the seas, not reaching out for more. This wasnât wealth or her ambitions or anything she could fit in her palms. Sheâd never wanted for strength before. Cunning had always been at her side, enabling her to circumvent any danger she could not weasel her way out of. Her gaze fell the floor, though she could feel her ears burning.
âI need to be stronger, Rom. Not just for myself. And this,â she swept her hands out wide, and shook her head, âisnât enough.â
"Isn't it?" was Rom's response after a long delay. He let the hand towel fall on the worktable, making his way towards the other side of the room. "You've never let me down. I don't think you've let any of the others down. Alchemy can't make you superhuman. And anything close will come at a steep price." He stopped in front of the fire, briefly glancing down at the pot to check the contents, before he grabbed a water skin on the mantelpiece. "I don't think you need to be anything, if you don't want to be."
He took a long drink, clearly thinking about something as he did so, and by the time he lowered the skin and wiped his mouth he'd settled on something else to say. "I can make potions for you, if you want. I'm sure you could get some from Rilien, too. If you really want me to teach you alchemy, though... I can try. I've never taught it to anyone else before." And if his previous words were anything to go by, he didn't have the best examples in terms of teachers to take after. Or at least, not the kindest. He had obviously learned much from his instructors.
"When you say you want to be stronger, do you mean that literally? There's no easy potion for that, but there are things that can help you get there faster."
Isnât it? Zahra had asked herself the same question before, because accepting something less was much easier than anything else. Doing what Khari did was much harderâimproving herself by throwing herself into any fray she could find. Utilizing any weapon she could get her hands on. Asala, too. Sheâd proven that she wasnât just a healer, by welcoming a spirit in her midst. Everyone had excelled in something and gone to greater heights, in order to protect something they thought was important. She couldnât afford to sit on the sidelines. Not anymore.
Even with Româs words, kind as they were⊠she certainly felt like she did, sometimes. Let them down. Let herself down. âI want to be more,â her voice had softened into a whisper as she halted her pacing and scrubbed a hand across the back of her neck, âIâm not looking for the impossible. Just better.â The words felt peculiar in her mouth. Her ambitions had always been selfish in nature; wild, intangible. She supposed thereâd been a change somewhere along the way. Not one sheâd easily noted. As if it crept up on her. She found that it wasnât very unpleasant. This doing things for others. This was for her crew, as well.
There was a moment where her eyes crinkled at the sides, and a laugh seemed ready at her lips. It hadnât bubbled its way out, though a smile was left in its wake. âLiterally. Figuratively. I donât want to fall behind. We can hardly afford that when weâre trying to save all of Thedas.â
She planted a hand on her hips, and blinked at the cobblestones lining the floor. The cracks in between. Sheâd often wondered why he, of all people, needed to use alchemy. What was he using it for, if he was already strong enough? âI would,â Zahra met his eyes, a determined jut to her chin, âlike you to teach me, that is. So, I can do it on my own.â Besides, she doubted that her presence would be welcome if she were always dragging herself to their doors.
"Okay then." Rom exhaled, rubbing at his head. He kept his hair always so close shaven now, even as they descended into winter. Personal preference, apparently. "We can start tomorrow, with the basics. I hope you're good at memorization. This can be dangerous if done the wrong way, so for now you'll practice in here, a few days a week. We can decide times later." As far as Zahra knew, the only other person regularly admitted into his quarters down here was Khari, to train in hand to hand and grappling, or just to talk. In that sense, the acceptance was rather larger than his casual tone was making it out to be.
"I can teach you how to make a lot of different potions or tonics when you're ready," he continued. "We'll probably start with stamina draughts, to help you train longer. After that we can move on in the direction you want." His expression became several degrees more serious then. "One thing you need to understand, though: nothing we make will be like the things I use. You won't be able to stand in an inferno and not get burned, or have lightning wash over you like water. There are some things I learned in Tevinter that I won't pass on. Certainly not to a beginner."
It was difficult to contain the excitement growing on her face, and as much as Zahra tried to wrestle it down into something more serious, the harder it became. Her hand brushed over her mouth. Smothering the smile behind her fingers, as she nodded her head. Listening. She supposed she had expected him to outright reject her request. Even if they were friends, they each had their own lines that shouldnât be crossed, âOf course, of course. Iâll be here.â
Her smile had softened as Rom finished his last words. That was not the kind of power she wanted. Even she had her limitations, and she would not ask him to part with anything that he felt he could not. Would not. As long as she could excel, improve. That was enough. âWhatever youâre willing to teach me, Iâll take it,â she dropped her hand from her face, and let out a breath she hadnât realized sheâd been holding in, âIf thereâs anything you ever need...â
A laugh sounded. Curt. Somewhat embarrassed. It wasnât likely sheâd ever have anything he needed. Though, debtsâshe was never fond of those.
âWhat I mean is, thank you, Rom. This means a lot.â
"You're welcome." He jerked his head sideways in a gesture. "Now get out of here, I've got work to do." Judging by his little grin and his tone, he meant it in an entirely friendly way.