I know they laugh at me. Hawke, with her blue eyes and shining smile, does it with humor, no malice. Fenris, as usual, does nothing, but cruel laughter flickered under his large green eyes. How I HATE the color green. Deep, clear, bottomless, ugly green. They hate me for what I am, and feathers are of little consequence. They do not understand why I wear these on my robes. Feathers? Why feathers? Yes, they are fragile, flammable, messy, hard to maintain, and useless in any tangible matter. Even Justice seems to disapprove of this "frivolous accessory." But here, in this dark, broken place, they remind me of freedom- freedom that is lived and then taken away. Feathers that granted flight, now remind me how tethered I am to the ground. I would never share this, least of all to the insufferable elf, but sometimes I feel as imprisoned here as in the Circle. All mages deserve freedom – but sometimes, I wonder. Will we be trading one set of shackles for another? What is the point of freeing a bird if it does not know how to fly?