The snow flurried around Astraia's feet, each shift and step kicking up a new cloud. Her breath fogged out of her in gusts, wafting into air that was constantly cut with clashing metal and wood, echoing around the wall of the enclosure.
She wondered when the first day would be that she actually hit Harellan. Only recently did she graduate to the point of actually freeform sparring him, when Cyrus determined she was ready. The wintry months had done her good, and started the process of hardening her into something perhaps firm enough not to splinter in a real fight.
That was the difficult thing. The fights weren't real, and so it was difficult to tell how much progress she was really making, especially when both of her teachers were vastly her superior, and were well capable of fighting always just above her level. She couldn't sling spells about either; something she would certainly try to do in a real fight. Lightning was harder to blunt than a blade, and stone didn't need to pierce or slash to kill. Her struggles with control were ongoing, and with them came difficulties trusting herself.
Harellan never made it easy on her. Cyrus was especially preoccupied today, and so Astraia trained alone with Harellan for the session, in the mountainous clearing that had started to feel like home. She was easily intimidated, she knew this, but Harellan in particular she felt self-conscious around, despite their growing familiarity with one another. They spoke little about things besides her training, mostly because Astraia did not know how to ask. Or if she should. He struck her as a private person.
He struck her with his blade as well, magically dulled edge hitting her in the lower back when she couldn't twist the staff around in time. That was death, but she pretended it wasn't, taking a backstep to acknowledge the hit and then sweeping low with her staff, looking to catch his lower legs with the blade.
He was almost unnaturally light on his feet, and never seemed to struggle to predict where her hits were going to come from, either. Harellan jumped, letting the staff pass beneath his boots. He landed with a soft crunch in the snow, feet solid and firm on the ground, and stepped forward, propelling himself into a smooth thrust for her abdomen.
That was death again, and one Astraia saw coming. The point of the training, and the style she was trying to learn, was to keep opponents outside the reach of an arm or a blade, where she'd be at a disadvantage. She had to dictate with her moves where her opponent was allowed to go, but that was nearly impossible with someone as quick as Harellan, and the longer the fights went on the greater the difference in speed between them seemed to be.
Frustrated, she reacted on instinct, a hand flying free from her staff and going to her head. A moment later a burst of arcane magic erupted out of her, just before the blade could bring an end to the spar. It was strong enough to shake the rock walls around them, loosening the snow there from its little piles and sending it drifting down around them.
Harellan's brows arched in surprise; swiftly he brought his free hand up in front of him, a light flickering in his palm apparently blunting the impact, which still picked his feet up off the ground and flung him a couple meters away from her. He landed with the ease of a cat, sword still humming in his hand, pointed down and away from his body. With a small shake of his head—as though banishing some thought or bit of muzziness—he tilted his head at her.
"I wasn't aware we'd transitioned into sparring more broadly-construed." It didn't sound like he was scolding her—for all the cues in his tone, he could have been remarking on the weather.
She'd dropped her staff almost as soon as it happened, clearly much more bothered by what she'd done than he was. "I'm sorry! I just—damn it." Even casting on reaction as she had, she hadn't meant to use the Mind Blast that strongly. The snow was cleared off the rock beneath her feet in a near perfect circle, save for two little footprints where her feet had been, trapping it down.
"It's frustrating, is all. You're... very good. And it's not like you're going to let me hit you, that wouldn't be right." It would be a disservice, honestly. If she even believed it was due to her own skill. More likely it would just be a waste of time. "I guess I just didn't want the extra bruise."
She had enough of those already. Picking her staff back up, she glanced up at the sky. They'd been at it for a while. "Can I ask you something? If we're done for the day. We should probably be done, right?"
"Perhaps that would be wise, yes." Harellan let go of the hilt of his blade, and it disappeared tracelessly. Freeing his hand allowed him to clasp it with the other behind his back, taking a few steps to put himself back in more polite conversational range. "What were you wanting to ask?" As ever, he betrayed... well, very little. Certainly no apprehension or discomfort—his face was smooth and his expression placid. Estella's did that sometimes, too, but for Harellan it seemed to be natural.
"Well..." She turned to where she'd left her scarf and cloak. They were dusted with snow from the time they'd been sitting there, as well as from what she'd sent falling down from her spell. "It seems like it's an interesting time for us. For our people. After what Khari did."
Astraia could hardly fathom it. Khari hadn't been so different from what Astraia looked like, once upon a time. Small, thin, about as imposing as a baby halla, and now she'd won a Grand Melee of Orlesian chevaliers, almost winning the entire Tourney as well. Her work with the Inquisition had won her some fame already, but now... she had to be the most famous elf in Thedas, after the scene she'd caused. Every elf in every city would know her name, and word would probably run to the Dalish as well. Like the smell of smoke on the wind, there was an energy in the air now. Unless Astraia was just tricking herself into thinking that.
"I was wondering what you make of it all." Knowing where he came from, she couldn't help but be interested in his perspective on things.
He hummed, rocking back on his heels and lifting his eyes to the circle of thin blue sky over their heads. "Well there's hardly any overstating the achievement, is there?" He brought his eyes back down to hers, a faint smile curling one side of his mouth. "I have to say that just about anything that can make elves proud to be elves counts as a marvelous development." The smile faded, and his lips thinned, paling when he pressed them together.
"Though... perhaps I cannot help but feel that for as long as we attempt to find a place in a humans' world, we will always be at a disadvantage, however many heroes there may be to tread the paths before us." Something in his expression pulled, his eyes narrowing. A flicker of—pain, maybe?
She wasn't especially surprised to see it. It sounded like the sort of thing Ves would've told her, back when he first came to the Thremael in the Tirashan. She used to sit beside him for hours, between her brother and this mysterious outsider who just seemed like so much more of an elf than any of them, without even trying. They talked and she listened, absorbing ideas and never daring to offer any of her own. Especially after she learned where Ves's knowledge came from... how could she know any better? Her sheltered, isolated existence was pitiful compared to her brother's, who had trudged across half of Orlais to join them, or to Ves's, the worldly mercenary with the very ages themselves locked in his mind.
Astraia got the sense that Ves wouldn't echo Harellan anymore. Arlathan had changed him, the Lady Inquisitor had changed him, even Khari had changed him. Astraia was changed too. She felt... awoken wasn't quite the right way to describe it. That sort of thing happened back when she joined the Inquisition, fighting against her brother. But ever since then she felt as though her eyes were open in a way they'd never been before. She could see things on distant mountains, far out of her reach. But she knew they were there now.
"That's probably not a popular opinion around here," she said. "Suppose there aren't all that many elves here, though. Not compared to the humans, anyway." Most of the ones that were here were from the cities, and their lives were molded by them. Elves like Brand or Cor or Lia, thinking of themselves as their occupations before their race.
She leaned back against the rock behind her, crossing her arms. "I never would've described myself as ambitious before all this. I just wanted some place to belong and be valued. Ever since I saw Arlathan, though..." She lifted her eyes from the snow to Harellan. "I feel like I'm meant for more. Capable of it, anyway, if there are no gods guiding me. I want to be one of those heroes someday." More than that, she wanted her example to lead people the right way. Whatever that was still seemed to be up for debate, and while she respected what Khari did, she couldn't help but feel like it was ultimately wasted effort.
"So if I get frustrated when I can't even learn how to fight with a sharp stick properly, I guess that's why."
"It was... difficult. For me, to learn of the outside. Difficult to come to terms with the fact that so much of what we were is dead here." Obviously even in its diminished state, Arlathan was greater than anything else the People had, greater in some ways still than what humans had. Surely some of the knowledge in the Shattered Library was lost to everyone but them. "Difficult to decide what I wanted to do about it. For some years, I think I lost my way; but I also believe I've finally found it again. It does not entail walking a parallel path to humanity—that much I can say with certainty."
Harellan regarded her for a quiet moment, brows furrowing just slightly over his spring-leaf eyes. "While some amount of skill is no doubt great help in making a hero, what does it most of all is having a vision. A goal, something in sight but out of reach, to strive towards. I can't help but think of what someone like Khari would have been able to achieve if she'd set her eyes in a different direction." He lifted his shoulders and let them fall in a light shrug.
"Perhaps yours are clearer."
It was reassuring to her to know that he'd struggled too. Doubly so to see that he seemed certain now. That she could go from one state to the other successfully, as an elf, and not submit to the idea of changing who and what she was just to better fit somewhere she would never really be seen as equal.
"I don't know what I could do to help... but I think that's one of the reasons I wanted to stay here. To really find out what I'm capable of. I'd never learn that with my clan, and I'll never learn it staying at Skyhold every day, just healing the sick and the injured." It wasn't that she didn't find any meaning in the work. She loved helping people here, and she knew she was doing real good working for the Inquisition.
But there were so many questions, after Corypheus was gone. And they would defeat him. She didn't feel like it was too early to start thinking about what her place would be afterwards. What she wanted it to be.
"Thank you for teaching me, Harellan. I have to count myself lucky, for the teachers I've had since leaving the Tirashan behind."
"Of course." His face betrayed a hint of something different: it read a little like incredulity, as if he'd never thought to do otherwise. "It's only seldom I encounter such raw potential as yours. Only one other time, in fact—and I daresay we're both reaping the benefits of that one."
Harellan half-smiled, motioning to the entrance with one hand. "I encourage you to keep looking for further opportunities. To find the thing worth reaching for. No doubt you'll know it when it appears."
She wondered when the first day would be that she actually hit Harellan. Only recently did she graduate to the point of actually freeform sparring him, when Cyrus determined she was ready. The wintry months had done her good, and started the process of hardening her into something perhaps firm enough not to splinter in a real fight.
That was the difficult thing. The fights weren't real, and so it was difficult to tell how much progress she was really making, especially when both of her teachers were vastly her superior, and were well capable of fighting always just above her level. She couldn't sling spells about either; something she would certainly try to do in a real fight. Lightning was harder to blunt than a blade, and stone didn't need to pierce or slash to kill. Her struggles with control were ongoing, and with them came difficulties trusting herself.
Harellan never made it easy on her. Cyrus was especially preoccupied today, and so Astraia trained alone with Harellan for the session, in the mountainous clearing that had started to feel like home. She was easily intimidated, she knew this, but Harellan in particular she felt self-conscious around, despite their growing familiarity with one another. They spoke little about things besides her training, mostly because Astraia did not know how to ask. Or if she should. He struck her as a private person.
He struck her with his blade as well, magically dulled edge hitting her in the lower back when she couldn't twist the staff around in time. That was death, but she pretended it wasn't, taking a backstep to acknowledge the hit and then sweeping low with her staff, looking to catch his lower legs with the blade.
He was almost unnaturally light on his feet, and never seemed to struggle to predict where her hits were going to come from, either. Harellan jumped, letting the staff pass beneath his boots. He landed with a soft crunch in the snow, feet solid and firm on the ground, and stepped forward, propelling himself into a smooth thrust for her abdomen.
That was death again, and one Astraia saw coming. The point of the training, and the style she was trying to learn, was to keep opponents outside the reach of an arm or a blade, where she'd be at a disadvantage. She had to dictate with her moves where her opponent was allowed to go, but that was nearly impossible with someone as quick as Harellan, and the longer the fights went on the greater the difference in speed between them seemed to be.
Frustrated, she reacted on instinct, a hand flying free from her staff and going to her head. A moment later a burst of arcane magic erupted out of her, just before the blade could bring an end to the spar. It was strong enough to shake the rock walls around them, loosening the snow there from its little piles and sending it drifting down around them.
Harellan's brows arched in surprise; swiftly he brought his free hand up in front of him, a light flickering in his palm apparently blunting the impact, which still picked his feet up off the ground and flung him a couple meters away from her. He landed with the ease of a cat, sword still humming in his hand, pointed down and away from his body. With a small shake of his head—as though banishing some thought or bit of muzziness—he tilted his head at her.
"I wasn't aware we'd transitioned into sparring more broadly-construed." It didn't sound like he was scolding her—for all the cues in his tone, he could have been remarking on the weather.
She'd dropped her staff almost as soon as it happened, clearly much more bothered by what she'd done than he was. "I'm sorry! I just—damn it." Even casting on reaction as she had, she hadn't meant to use the Mind Blast that strongly. The snow was cleared off the rock beneath her feet in a near perfect circle, save for two little footprints where her feet had been, trapping it down.
"It's frustrating, is all. You're... very good. And it's not like you're going to let me hit you, that wouldn't be right." It would be a disservice, honestly. If she even believed it was due to her own skill. More likely it would just be a waste of time. "I guess I just didn't want the extra bruise."
She had enough of those already. Picking her staff back up, she glanced up at the sky. They'd been at it for a while. "Can I ask you something? If we're done for the day. We should probably be done, right?"
"Perhaps that would be wise, yes." Harellan let go of the hilt of his blade, and it disappeared tracelessly. Freeing his hand allowed him to clasp it with the other behind his back, taking a few steps to put himself back in more polite conversational range. "What were you wanting to ask?" As ever, he betrayed... well, very little. Certainly no apprehension or discomfort—his face was smooth and his expression placid. Estella's did that sometimes, too, but for Harellan it seemed to be natural.
"Well..." She turned to where she'd left her scarf and cloak. They were dusted with snow from the time they'd been sitting there, as well as from what she'd sent falling down from her spell. "It seems like it's an interesting time for us. For our people. After what Khari did."
Astraia could hardly fathom it. Khari hadn't been so different from what Astraia looked like, once upon a time. Small, thin, about as imposing as a baby halla, and now she'd won a Grand Melee of Orlesian chevaliers, almost winning the entire Tourney as well. Her work with the Inquisition had won her some fame already, but now... she had to be the most famous elf in Thedas, after the scene she'd caused. Every elf in every city would know her name, and word would probably run to the Dalish as well. Like the smell of smoke on the wind, there was an energy in the air now. Unless Astraia was just tricking herself into thinking that.
"I was wondering what you make of it all." Knowing where he came from, she couldn't help but be interested in his perspective on things.
He hummed, rocking back on his heels and lifting his eyes to the circle of thin blue sky over their heads. "Well there's hardly any overstating the achievement, is there?" He brought his eyes back down to hers, a faint smile curling one side of his mouth. "I have to say that just about anything that can make elves proud to be elves counts as a marvelous development." The smile faded, and his lips thinned, paling when he pressed them together.
"Though... perhaps I cannot help but feel that for as long as we attempt to find a place in a humans' world, we will always be at a disadvantage, however many heroes there may be to tread the paths before us." Something in his expression pulled, his eyes narrowing. A flicker of—pain, maybe?
She wasn't especially surprised to see it. It sounded like the sort of thing Ves would've told her, back when he first came to the Thremael in the Tirashan. She used to sit beside him for hours, between her brother and this mysterious outsider who just seemed like so much more of an elf than any of them, without even trying. They talked and she listened, absorbing ideas and never daring to offer any of her own. Especially after she learned where Ves's knowledge came from... how could she know any better? Her sheltered, isolated existence was pitiful compared to her brother's, who had trudged across half of Orlais to join them, or to Ves's, the worldly mercenary with the very ages themselves locked in his mind.
Astraia got the sense that Ves wouldn't echo Harellan anymore. Arlathan had changed him, the Lady Inquisitor had changed him, even Khari had changed him. Astraia was changed too. She felt... awoken wasn't quite the right way to describe it. That sort of thing happened back when she joined the Inquisition, fighting against her brother. But ever since then she felt as though her eyes were open in a way they'd never been before. She could see things on distant mountains, far out of her reach. But she knew they were there now.
"That's probably not a popular opinion around here," she said. "Suppose there aren't all that many elves here, though. Not compared to the humans, anyway." Most of the ones that were here were from the cities, and their lives were molded by them. Elves like Brand or Cor or Lia, thinking of themselves as their occupations before their race.
She leaned back against the rock behind her, crossing her arms. "I never would've described myself as ambitious before all this. I just wanted some place to belong and be valued. Ever since I saw Arlathan, though..." She lifted her eyes from the snow to Harellan. "I feel like I'm meant for more. Capable of it, anyway, if there are no gods guiding me. I want to be one of those heroes someday." More than that, she wanted her example to lead people the right way. Whatever that was still seemed to be up for debate, and while she respected what Khari did, she couldn't help but feel like it was ultimately wasted effort.
"So if I get frustrated when I can't even learn how to fight with a sharp stick properly, I guess that's why."
"It was... difficult. For me, to learn of the outside. Difficult to come to terms with the fact that so much of what we were is dead here." Obviously even in its diminished state, Arlathan was greater than anything else the People had, greater in some ways still than what humans had. Surely some of the knowledge in the Shattered Library was lost to everyone but them. "Difficult to decide what I wanted to do about it. For some years, I think I lost my way; but I also believe I've finally found it again. It does not entail walking a parallel path to humanity—that much I can say with certainty."
Harellan regarded her for a quiet moment, brows furrowing just slightly over his spring-leaf eyes. "While some amount of skill is no doubt great help in making a hero, what does it most of all is having a vision. A goal, something in sight but out of reach, to strive towards. I can't help but think of what someone like Khari would have been able to achieve if she'd set her eyes in a different direction." He lifted his shoulders and let them fall in a light shrug.
"Perhaps yours are clearer."
It was reassuring to her to know that he'd struggled too. Doubly so to see that he seemed certain now. That she could go from one state to the other successfully, as an elf, and not submit to the idea of changing who and what she was just to better fit somewhere she would never really be seen as equal.
"I don't know what I could do to help... but I think that's one of the reasons I wanted to stay here. To really find out what I'm capable of. I'd never learn that with my clan, and I'll never learn it staying at Skyhold every day, just healing the sick and the injured." It wasn't that she didn't find any meaning in the work. She loved helping people here, and she knew she was doing real good working for the Inquisition.
But there were so many questions, after Corypheus was gone. And they would defeat him. She didn't feel like it was too early to start thinking about what her place would be afterwards. What she wanted it to be.
"Thank you for teaching me, Harellan. I have to count myself lucky, for the teachers I've had since leaving the Tirashan behind."
"Of course." His face betrayed a hint of something different: it read a little like incredulity, as if he'd never thought to do otherwise. "It's only seldom I encounter such raw potential as yours. Only one other time, in fact—and I daresay we're both reaping the benefits of that one."
Harellan half-smiled, motioning to the entrance with one hand. "I encourage you to keep looking for further opportunities. To find the thing worth reaching for. No doubt you'll know it when it appears."