Shael (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
apostsassy) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
cogitationbox2017-04-22 08:40 pm
apostsassy) wrote in cogitationbox2017-04-22 08:40 pm
(no subject)
[You don't say no if the Inquisitor requests to speak to you.
It was an unspoken rule that was more common sense than anything. If the head of the organization you are part of wants to see you there are very few reasons in which you would say no. That being said, if the only reason you're with said organization is because you were very graciously granted asylum after being captured by very angry guards who were bent on sending you to the nearest group of Templars at their earliest convenience you absolutely do not ever refuse a request from the person in charge.
Shael had only ever spoken to the Inquisitor once after he was conscripted and that was to thank him. He'd since seen him around Skyhold, but never spoke another word to him other than a brief hello from time to time. The man seemed affable enough, but to be honest Shael had no desire to talk to him. He liked the relative solitude Skyhold afforded him. The rumors about Shael's rather abrasive personality as well as the circumstances surrounding his conscription had spread through the hold like wildfire so he was often left to his own devices. With the exception of Leilith who had no concept of personal space or an ounce of tact, there weren't many people who wanted to go out of their way to talk to a surly, potentially dangerous, apostate.
He found it curious, and a bit frightening, when he heard rumors that the Inquisitor was looking for him and wanted to speak with him. Shael being Shael, he immediately assumed the worst -- that he was going to be kicked out. He hadn't shown himself to be useful enough. He wasn't worth the trouble he brought with him.
He starts a little when the man approaches him, swallowing thickly and bracing himself for bad news.]
... Is there something I can help you with, Inquisitor?
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He takes a moment to process the whole unexpectedly emotional and forthcoming rush of information, turning it over carefully and weighing his words before he speaks.]
I can't say I find any fault with you for wanting to protect your sister. It's something any good brother would do, no matter the cost to himself. And men like those guards, who have no concept of decency and no consideration for how deeply their actions might affect others...well, in my opinion, they deserve whatever punishment they receive.
[Forcing oneself on a lady, regardless of her race or social standing, was unforgivable, and even though it's an event that took place long ago in the past, it still sends a prickle of anger down Taliesin's spine.]
...That said, it was quite a lucky thing that you didn't harm your sister in your outburst.
[There still isn't a trace of judgement, only steady regard and continued curiosity as Taliesin asks another question.]
Did you never consider the fact that you might harm someone with your magic, completely on accident? That being untrained made you a potential danger to anyone you might come to care about?
[That was the reason that Taliesin himself had submitted to Circle life, and had never once attempted to run away. He hated the confines of the Tower, the uncomfortably close quarters and being treated like a prisoner or worse, but...even as a twelve-year-old child, he had understood the necessity of it. That if he had remained with his family, he would have killed someone, or fallen prey to a demon, or a horribly messy combination of both.]
Most people give similar treatment both to alienages and the Circle. "It's for your own good," they say, without truly knowing anything about what goes on in such places. In the case of alienages, they are completely and utterly mistaken, for nothing good comes from such places that I've seen, other than the people themselves.
In the case of the Circle, they are partially right: it's a place where mages can receive training from other mages, and learn to harness and control their magic, an unrivaled source of knowledge and support. But...it is also a cage, and depending on where you come to roost, the jailers are not always kind, and do not always see magic as a gift, but rather as a curse. And so I understand why you would run from such a thing.
...And yet...
And yet, wasn't it selfish to run? To value your own freedom over the lives and well-being of others? Or did you run primarily because you feared the punishment that might befall you for killing those guards in Denerim? Because "the word of an elf" would mean less than nothing to those in charge of the city?
[And still, there isn't a trace of any sort of judgement. Only the earnest, impartial intention to understand how the person seated before him works.]
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I...I was terrified. I was only ten years old and once I saw those guards at Adanna's feet the only thing I could think was that if I stayed there I was going to die. The word of an elf, and a child at that, meant nothing to those men. The last time something anything remotely like what I had done happened the only reason the person responsible was allowed to live was because they were conscripted into the Grey Wardens. I would not be afforded such leniency.
So, yes, I ran. I ran and it was out of selfish self-preservation. I abandoned my family to protect myself. I'm not proud of it, but there was no telling what would be done to me and... I didn't want to die.
I thought about it every single day. I imagined over and over what fate had befallen my family. What they must have had to endure because of my mistakes...
[He shakes his head, taking a shaky breath and running a hand absently through his hair.]
Going to the Circle never really occurred to me. I assumed people would be looking for me, that guards would be alerted of my crimes and if I showed up anywhere I would be carted back to Denerim to face the justice of humans who wouldn't give me a chance to defend my actions.
I knew very little about magic. It wasn't something that was discussed often in the alienage. I knew that mages were supposed to go to the Circle. That it was supposed to be... safe, but I was so sure that they wouldn't take me. So certain that they'd refuse to hear me out and turn me in. I assumed it would be better to be on my own and try to deal with my magic by myself than it would to deal with the unknown of the Tower.
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But could have and would have meant nothing now. It's a thing long past, water long gone under the bridge, and it wouldn't do any good to tell Shael here and now what his frightened ten-year-old self should have done back then. He'd had no way of knowing how kind and yet stern and protective the First Enchanter was, or how strict but fair the Knight-Commander was, or that there were other influential mages there who would do their damnedest protect him, elf or not, child or not, accidental murderer or not. He had known next to nothing about the Circle, and he had known far too much about alienages, so he couldn't be blamed for being afraid to exchange one cage for another.]
It was not the bravest choice, mayhap, and not the best one either, it's true. But it is the one you made, and you have had to live with it, so I should think you know that quite well.
[He pauses briefly to take a drink--the brandy really is very good--then continues,]
In any case, it seems to me that you've done a thorough enough job of blaming yourself all these years. You don't need anyone else to join in.
[Shael doesn't need a refill, he knows, but Taliesin takes up the bottle of brandy and closes the space between them to add a bit more liquor to his glass anyway.]
So then, if you knew so little, how did you come to learn to control your magic, if you don't mind my asking? If half of what I've heard about your current magical abilities is true, then you clearly found someone to teach you.
[He gives another soft chuckle as he returns to his previous spot, setting down the bottle then leaning back against the desk.]
The rumours would have me believe that you either joined a roving band of Rivaini performers or you were taken in by the Witch of the Wilds. Neither of which sounds too likely to me, truth be told.
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Guilt is an emotion I'm all too familiar with. What's a little more?
[Taliesin's question mulls around in Shael's head while he absently watches him top off his glass. The fact of the matter is that he did mind him asking. Very much so. He'd already divulged the situation surrounding one of the darkest, most profoundly impacting moments of his life and he really had no desire to share information about the rest of it.
It was clear to see that the Inquisitor meant well for the most part. He wasn't prying to make him uncomfortable. It seemed like he simply wanted to know what made him tick. Why he did what he did, how he learned magic outside of the Circle. He was a man who liked to stay informed with facts and not wild rumors. It was, as he had already told him, the desire to know just what sort of people were in the Inquisition. His Inquisition.
Struggling with the desire to outright tell Taliesin off for his continued questioning, Shael shifts uncomfortably in his seat, mild annoyance slowly starting to replace his downtrodden expression. He's starting to feel as if he's talking to Leilith. A Leilith who he has to answer. It's wearing thin, to say the least, but he doesn't have much of a choice. He was conscripted into this Inquisition. The only reason he's here and not a rotting corpse is by the grace of the man in front of him.
If he were anyone else this conversation would have ended before it started.]
No, no, nothing so absurd. I happened across a small band of apostates a few weeks after I left Denerim. Rather... they found me. I learned from them.
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[Taliesin has been doing everything--drinking, pouring the brandy, digging through the bag in the first place--with his right hand. He's had enough practise by now that he's no longer noticeably clumsy when he uses his off-hand, at least not to anyone else, but...now he uncurls his left hand, which he's casually kept at his side in a loosely-balled fist for most of their conversation, raising it enough that he can stare at the flickering green glow of the Anchor branded into his left palm. It gives a sudden flash and a crackle, temporarily sending crazy, wavering shadows darting through the room and playing across his face; and after a brief moment, the Inquisitor closes his fist and looks over at Shael with a smile that's so faint, it almost looks stretched thin.]
...And let's just say that I see no reason that a mysterious mark on my hand should give me any right to judge the mistakes of your past.
[The other mage's subtle indications of discomfort do not go unheeded. Truthfully, Shael had been a great deal more forthcoming about his past than Taliesin had expected...going by the actual rumors he'd heard around Skyhold about the elven apostate, which mainly consisted of variations on 'don't even bother with that one,' 'leave him alone if you aren't looking for a scathing tongue-lashing', and 'grumpier than an incontinent bear roused from hibernation three months too soon'
and Maker bless you for that comparison, Varric.Shael has been quite accommodating, all things considered, and Taliesin is satisfied with what he's learned, at least for the present. Unlike Leilith, he knows when enough is enough. Tactically speaking, it would be far better to end this now, on a more or less positive note, rather than try to drag more and more information out of a less and less willing source. There would be time later for further conversation with this curiously interesting and compellingly reticent mage.
Taliesin would make certain of that, too.]
Well, enlightening as this conversation has been, I think I've kept you from your books and your solitude long enough for one day. I suppose our little game of truth-or-falsehood is at an end, then...
[He heaves a clearly theatrical sigh, and though his smile has the same genial curve to it as ever, there's an obvious twinkle of mischief in his bright green eyes.]
Alas, more's the pity. There were a great deal more rumours I wanted to ask you about, several of which were fantastically unbelievable...
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He's not sure if he'll ever get the answers to them. Both Solas and Taliesin were far better mages than he -- or at the very least, they had been able to discover far more about it's intricacies than he had ever had the opportunity to learn -- but even they were struggling to figure it out. What chance would he have?
Still, tension practically to melts off his frame the moment the Inquisitor speaks next. The game was finally at it's end. There would be no more probing questions. No more truths he would have to come to terms with. At least not today.]
Thank you Taliesin, I appreciate --
[Whatever he was about to say next falls dead on his lips, his head tilting inquisitively to the side. He shouldn't ask this question. If he truly wants to be left to his own devices these words should not be spoken and yet...
And yet...]
You don't say? More fantastical than a band of Rivaini performers?
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Swallowing his smirk and showing an amused grin instead, Taliesin spreads his hands in a helpless shrug.]
So fantastical that they border on the absurd--at least, I should very much hope they aren't rooted in truth. Particularly the one about your habit of bathing in fresh pig’s blood on the night of every full moon.
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He shakes his head and rolls his eyes, an amused smirk quirking up the corners of his lips.]
Oh, didn't you know? It's a time honored tradition of all apostates. I suppose I should have been more careful last month. It does make some people rather uncomfortable.
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And so the Inquisitor chuckles as well--more at Shael's reaction than anything, really--and pushes onward.]
Pure foolishness, I know. That was the most outlandish of the lot. The rest were decidedly more benign.
[He makes a show of ticking them off on his fingers as he goes on,]
There was one concerning your for some reason very secret sweet-tooth, a few regarding your uncontested skill in the kitchen, and also several about you having an inclination for taking your interest in books too far, whatever that means.
[Tal pauses a moment, then snaps his fingers, brightening a bit as if he’d just suddenly remembered something
and as if he hadn’t been working his way towards this question the entire time, what a liar.]...Ah yes, there was one more…
[Varric Tethras had been the first person Taliesin had gone to when he started his quest for information about Shael. Varric had known a few things about the reclusive elf, more than most, and he’d also known what the most common rumors concerning the apostate mage were. Taliesin had thanked his dwarven friend for the information, played a few hands of Wicked Grace, paid both their tabs, then turned to go, intent on heading off to find Shael.
“By the way, Sterling…”
Taliesin had turned back around in an instant, brimming with curiosity at the subtly devious undertone he’d heard in those four words. “Yes, Varric?”
“Just be certain you do manage to ask Sunshine about that rumour of him being secretly head over heels for another member of the Inquisition.”
Tal had quirked a questioning eyebrow at that, his default smile going a bit cunning as he turned his head slightly in an unspoken, Why, pray tell?
“...Just do it,” Varric had said with a fittingly roguish smile. “Trust me.”
There were few people that Taliesin trusted more. He’d said as much back then, earning himself a pleased chuckle from the handsome dwarf, and he’d meant it. Which was why, here and now, he did exactly as Varric had instructed:]
Most wide-spread and intriguing of all were the whispers concerning your long-denied, deeply secret, and decidedly romantic affections for another member of the Inquisition…
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That last one though...
His brow furrows slightly, his mind screeching to a sudden halt and nearly choking on the brandy as he replays the words over in his head.
Romantic affections for another member of the Inquisition?
He puts the glass back down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.]
I beg your pardon?
[Who could that even be about? It's not like he's around anyone enough for there to be rumors like that circulating. Not unless he counted Leilith, but that wasn't really his choice she just sort of showed up and hung around him even when he didn't want her there. Could they be talking about her?
No.
Did people honestly think he held some sort of feelings for Leilith? No, no, that's impossible. Surely there was some mistake. He shakes his head, laughing lightly in disbelief.]
Where would anyone get that idea? I talk to all of three people in Skyhold and one of them is my sister and Deidre can't really talk, you know, so that only leaves Leilith and I mean surely you've met her. She's... she's... obnoxious. Never leaves me alone. Just shows up to talk and ask me inane questions when I clearly want nothing to do with her.
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The Inquisitor raises an eyebrow at Shael, his expression matter-of-fact and just slightly skeptical.]
If she was the first person to come to your mind--and very quickly, too, I might add--are the rumors really so baseless?
[He gives another shrug, then knocks back the rest of his glass of brandy before adding,]
It seems like you do a good enough job keeping everyone else at arm's length. So, either you're intentionally less harsh with her than you are with the rest of your comrades, or she sees something in your behaviour towards her that makes her unable to leave you alone, regardless of your inclination for verbal truculence.
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They are absolutely baseless. Excluding the fact that I am currently talking to you, I speak with all of three people on a regular basis. It's not hard to figure out which one people might get ideas -- and completely wrong ideas, at that -- about.
And, believe me, I've tried to push her away. I have been unnecessarily cruel to her on so many occasions that I've quite honestly lost count of how many times I've had to do it and she still persists on trying to talk to me. I'm no less harsh with her, but she's... utterly exhausting to deal with and... sometimes it's just far easier to let her talk until she gets bored.
[It's not like he thinks of her as anything more than a friend and even friend is pushing it. She's an acquaintance who just so happens to know a bit more about him than most people. A trustworthy acquaintance who takes the time out of her day to come and talk to him and see how he's doing and ask stupid, vapid questions and....
No, he doesn't have feelings for her. That's absurd. More absurd than the Ravaini performers or bathing in pig's blood.]
Tal: /MIC DROP, INQUISITOR *OUT*
I'm only telling you what the rumor said. I haven't seen the two of you interact in any meaningful sort of way, so my opinion counts for less than nothing here. Still, I can't help but wonder...
[Slinging the bag over his shoulder and pointedly leaving the brandy on the desk, he looks Shael straight in the eyes and leaves him with one final question, this one rhetorical:]
Why do you feel the need to try so hard to push her away?
[Letting his words linger between them for a moment, he gives Shael a meaningful look, then turns to make his way back up the stairs, though not before taking his leave a bit more gracefully.]
You have my thanks for answering my questions so honestly, by the way. I know it must've rankled a bit, perhaps more than a bit, having to speak of such things after so long, but...I do appreciate it, Shael.
[And unless Shael calls out to him, he'll give the other mage one last smile, then unhurriedly take the stairs, heading for his quarters without a backwards glance.]
LAUGHS
He looks away, lips pursing into a thin line as his brows furrow heavily. The immediate thought is that he knows exactly why he pushes her away: it's safer. Safer for him not to get close to people. Safer to have no connections, to not have friends or people you care about. It's easier to live -- easier to survive -- when there was nothing weighing you down. When you didn't have to worry about how you would lose them.
Is that what's its all about though? He tells himself it's easier. That keeping everything to himself keeps him safe from the world who would want to punish him for his crimes.
Shael told himself he doesn't need friends. Told himself that no matter what his family had to suffer through they would be better off without him in the long run. Told himself he should never let anyone get close, never care for anyone, because it would only hurt him in the end. He's had plenty of examples of what happened when he got close to other people.
It never ended well.
He's briefly pulled out of his stupor as the Inquisitor finally takes his leave and he looks up at him, almost as if in a daze, and nods his head.]
... You're welcome, but don't expect to make a regular habit out of it.
[And then he's once more left to his thoughts. Thoughts that are far more tumultuous now than they were before the Inquisitor came to call. There was a lot he had to think about and thankfully the Inquisitor had been kind enough to leave the bottle of brandy behind.
Well, it'd be a shame to let it go to waste.]
AND HERE COMES *EXACTLY* THE PERSON HE WANTS TO SEE RIGHT NOW
And so she yanks open the door leading down into the cellar without care, letting it swing closed behind her, and comes clattering down the stairs, a whirlwind of life and questions and constant motion.
The Shael she finds, though, seems somewhat different than usual. He doesn't immediately tell her off for being loud on her way down, or for letting the door slam, for starters. He's let most the candles burn down and drown in their own wax, or gutter out from the general draftiness of the basement. And he seems pretty withdraw and moody, even for him.
The five years or so that they've known each other haven't changed her much: she's still tiny, still stubborn and strong-willed, still oblivious to far too many things. The vallaslin on her face and the way she braids her hair are really all that's changed over the years. Which means the only thing for this situation is...a blunt statement, followed by (as usual) a question.]
...You're sitting all alone down here in the dark, you know. What's the matter with you?
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Today he doesn't.
Today he's quiet. Today he's let the candles go out on their own. Today he's sitting in semi-darkness with half a bottle of brandy on the desk next to him, hunched forward in his chair with his brow so furrowed in thought that it seems as if he might be trying to unlock the vast mysteries of the very fabric of the universe.
He's not, of course, but unraveling the parting words of the Inquisitor is proving to be an equally insurmountable task to accomplish.
Shael doesn't bother to look up. Only moves his head to rest his chin on top of his laced fingers.]
I'm aware. Thank you for pointing out the obvious. I'm just... thinking, that's all.
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Thinking isn't out of character for him, of course. But doing so like this is...strange.]
Thinking? [Coming up beside him, she reaches for the bottle of brandy, curious as to what he's been drinking...and also why.] About what?
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I'm thinking about why you always ask such stupid, vapid questions.
[... And he's done it again. Just as the Inquisitor said. Why was he trying so hard to push her away? Was there anything actually wrong with this particular question or was it something else all together?
Another sigh. Shael straightens up in his seat, running a hand through his hair.]
Though if you must know, the Inquisitor came to talk to me today and the conversation we had was... well, I'm still working out how I feel about it all.
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I didn't realize that asking a friend if something is wrong when they're acting really strangely was a stupid, vapid question.
[Leilith isn't surprised to hear that the Inquisitor stopped by. He'd been asking around about Shael, which had seemed strange, and he'd even sought her out to ask what she knew about the elven apostate.
Though Leilith's first inclination had been to share what she knew, she resisted--it had been hard enough to get Shael to open up to her at all, and most of what she knew about him had been hard-won. Besides, she wasn't a gossip: if Shael wanted Taliesin to know things, then the Inquistor should ask him himself. She'd said as much, which had made the tall, redheaded mage's mouth twitch in amusement, bright green eyes sparkling with mirth. He'd genially acknowledged her point, then asked if there was anything she knew about her friend that she didn't think he would mind her sharing. At that she'd relented somewhat (it had nothing to do with the fact that his eyes were very strikingly green, fringed about with lashes that were almost unfairly long and dark) and told him that kind of thing--her suspicions about Shael's possible sweet tooth, the fact that he was a good cook, but nothing more. Nothing truly personal.]
How you feel about it? What on earth did you talk about, then? I mean, supposing you did actually really talk to him instead of avoiding all his questions, like you always do with me.
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[It's a compliment really.]
I'm inclined to believe that he talked to Adanna about me and somehow managed to get the information out of her. I don't think she had any malicious intent, nor do I think he did in his asking, but...
[He trails off, shaking his head and laughing a little. It's not a pleasant sound. It's full of insecurity. Full of uncertainty. He's laughing because he doesn't know what else to do. He's not even sure why he's talking about this.]
It was terrifying to have someone seek me out and all but outright tell me that he already knew what I'd done. Not only that, but for it to be the Inquisitor of all people... I thought I was done for.
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Yeah, he came around and asked about you, which seemed pretty strange truth be told, but I didn't think it was really any of his business and told him so, and also to ask you instead of me if he wanted to know things about you. So no, I didn't tell him anything like that-
[-And then it hits her that yeah, that...was very much a compliment. Shael had said it all so matter-of-factly that she'd almost missed it, but...those were all very nice things. Almost too nice for her to believe that he believes them, but...he's seeming abnormally loose-tongued tonight, doubtless because of that alcohol, and Shael certainly isn't the type to waste time on empty flattery, at least not with someone like her, so...he must really mean it.
It sends a spark of warmth through her, straight down to her booted toes, which she can't stop from giving a reflexive wriggle of pleasure.
He trusts her.
Maybe they really were friends after all.
Those thoughts are what she's focused on for a few seconds, so she only half-hears most of what he says about Adanna, but his laughter brings her back to what he's saying. Because Shael doesn't laugh often, and usually it's sarcastic, scornful laughter when he does (though she does rather treasure the few times it's been honest and genuine amusement), but this...isn't that kind of laughter. It's...helpless laughter. And she's not sure she likes hearing it come from him.
A pugnacious little scowl pinches her face.]
...He's still just a man, you know. Inquisitor or not.
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Perhaps you've forgotten, but I didn't willingly join the Inquisition. I was conscripted. The only reason I'm here and not dead is thanks to that man. He quite literally holds my fate in his hands and if he decided that my past crimes were too much to overlook any longer I would not only cease to be part of this organization, but I would cease to be living. People don't just let apostates go free.
Though you're right in that he is still just a man, he's a man who holds power. Still... he didn't... blame me for what I did. He didn't scold me for my decisions. It seemed like he simply wanted to hear the truth from my own mouth.
It felt more like... he was trying to piece together a puzzle. Trying to figure out why I did what I did. Why I chose the path I chose and not... not to blame me for my mistakes...
[He runs a hand through his hair again, eyes drifting to the half empty bottle of brandy idly.]
I don't know, it was all very uncomfortable.
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...How could I ever forget that when it's one of the few things you mention every chance you get...
[She listens to the rest of what he says about Taliesin and the conversation they'd had without comment, at least until the end.]
Why do you think he cares so much? Is it just because he's also a mage?
[Those first two questions are spoken with her usual light inquisitiveness; they come quick and sound almost a little absent, more reflexive curiosity than anything. Her last question, though...that one comes only after a pause, and her interest is a little more pointed.]
...Does that mean...you think most people would blame you for what you did?
[Normally she wouldn't even bother asking something like that. He'd just snap at her to mind her own business, or tell her off for something else. But tonight, what with the brandy and all, perhaps...perhaps he'll actually answer.]
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[He finds her next question to be a curious one. He looks over at her slowly, his head tilted slightly to the side as his brows knit together tightly.]
Of course they would.
[The words are said with conviction, as if there were no other possible answer, no other outcome that he could see.
And there wasn't. Not for Shael.]
I mean, that's the whole reason I ran in the first place. I ran because I knew I'd be blamed without question. Without anyone ever stopping to think of the whys or hows. I ran because all they would see would be two dead guards and a terrified elven child who they would never listen to.
[He laughs again, incredulous.]
You were there when we found my sister. You saw how well she reacted to seeing me again. Not that I blame her, but she... she resented my choice. Resented that I left her. Blamed me for what happened to her. To my family. She didn't care that I was terrified or confused.
My own flesh and blood blames me for what I did. How could I possibly expect anyone else to do what she could not?
[Under any other circumstances he would have just snapped at her to mind her own business. He would have told her off and done all in his power to get her to leave him alone, but today...
He really has had too much brandy.
And this has nothing to do with what the Inquisitor said. Nothing.]
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Shael would've been strung up, if he hadn't run. Child or not, intentional or not, it wouldn't have mattered. The human authorities wouldn't have listened to him, and even if they had, they would've sided with the guards.]
You're not wrong, but...
[...And yet...
...And yet, there's something about how he's talking about all of this that bothers her. And while it's true that she isn't as naive as she once was, she still isn't the most tactful person, still doesn't always think before she speaks. In any case, Leilith was never one to bite her tongue when she was talking to Shael, of all people. He was blunt with her, so it was only fair that she be blunt right back.]
...Y'know...it sounds to me like the person who blames you the most for all of this...is you.
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