Drakonis, 9:29 Dragon
Aeneas blankly stared into space through his long mattered hair, hugging his knees. The stone ground was cold, no matter how long he had been sitting there. The chained manacles gently clanked as a cold breeze blew by, causing goose-bumps. He shivered slightly and hugged his knees tighter.
He had been in his cell for at least five days now, due to rumours spreading like wildfire. Rumours of him being a blood mage. The Templars had called for an investigation on him; a mixture of searching for material evidence, along with personal accounts or a clouded look in one's eyes. This, along with multiple interrogations with the usage of Magebane and their Templar abilities.
He could only laugh bitterly. The most promising student, the very one that First Enchanter Irving was so proud to bring him under his tutelage six years ago, was now accused of being a maleficar. He could only imagine what the look on First Enchanter Irving's face was when Greagoir announced Aeneas had been imprisoned. All because of his utterly stupid decision to cut.
It was a way of coping; it gave him a false sense of peace, he can see now, due to the pressures pushed upon him. It was his way of applying some sort of control in his life. So, he made a pattern of it. An intricate pattern that he had to admit is very pleasing to the eye, on the interior surface of his left arm. It had been about fourteen days, maybe, since he'd done it, and it looked like it was healing well enough. He had made sure to apply elfroot salves to speed up the recovery process, along with minor healing spells. He never intended to cause any serious damage to his arm, which was why he done it lightly. He made sure to only isolate the portion of the epidermis he cut into. He had no intention of going any deeper than that. The risk of nicking an artery was too high.
He sighed, and leaned back against the also cold stone wall, as he absently touched the raised scarring. He stood as the barred door opened, his knee joints cracking as he did so. He was surprised when he was faced by a nameless Templar with his helmet on, instead of Greagoir himself. He expected to be yelled at again by the Knight Commander, but apparently he'd latched himself onto other things of immediate importance.
"So… what's going to happen to me?" He flipped his hair out of his light green eyes, feeling tired and weak. The small cloth provided wasn't enough to cushion the stone or offer warmth for him to sleep properly, he also was not offered any food, though very minimal water. Sleep deprivation and malnutrition was a part of the interrogation technique, it appeared to Aeneas.
"Your scarring is put on file for future reference, if any other accusation or occurrence happens in regards to you. You will be watched and escorted by two Templars at all times, that is all I'm allowed to say on the matter." He grunted.
"So… I'm free from this cell for the moment?"
"Yes, and I am to escort you to Senior Enchanter Wynne."
Aeneas rolled his eyes at the notion that he didn't know how to look after his own body, or that he is a shitty healer. "Alright," he pushed himself off the wall for the force of momentum and clutched at his stomach as he followed the nameless Templar, his stomach screaming out in hunger.
The Templar led Aeneas to the infirmary and practically forced him into a chair provided near the east wing. The beds were a good distance away from where he sat with his arms crossed against his chest. He slouched in his chair and ignored the clawing pain in his stomach when he saw Senior Enchanter Wynne arrive.
"So I understand that I am to take a look at your arm and general homeostatic levels." Wynne begun as she placed the potent elfroot potion on the table next to him, along with a small roll of bandages. Whilst seeing dark circles under his eyes, that his skin lost its colour and that it was more pale than usual. Aeneas truly did look terrible.
"Yeah." Aeneas bitterly smirked at her "Looks like you got your work cut out for you, huh? What with examining a supposed maleficar, not knowing if I'm to do something insidious like, oh… I don't know, take over your mind. Make you do horrid acts to fuel nightmares for years to come, against the fellow cohort of mages and Templars."
His nameless Templar escort hit him in the shoulder, hard enough to leave a nasty bruise.
"Ow!"
Wynne sighed with a hand on her forehead, "it's fine," she was about to say the name of the Templar before she cut herself off. "If you could please take a step or two back, because despite his arrogance, I truly doubt he even has enough energy to perform the simplest of spells, much less blood magic. Regardless if you're here to watch him or not."
The Templar grunted and took two steps back.
"Your arm, please." She demanded after bringing another chair over and sitting down to examine him.
Aeneas rolled his eyes and gave his arm to her, which she was none too gentle with and caused him to cry out. Payback, he supposed.
She raised her brow when she saw the pattern of the Chantry's symbol of the sun and flames surrounding it with, horizontal to it, what looked like either vines or barbed wire. An indication that he felt too tightly constricted by the Chantry, perhaps? Either way, she was able to tell that they were, indeed, cuts made with most likely a surgical scalpel. She then frowned, how was he able to get access to it? Though, more importantly, the cuts seemed to be done by an experienced hand. Meaning the possibility of him being a blood mage seemed more likely, but of course there were other factors as to why he was experienced with the scalpel. She just couldn't think of any…
"Regardless of the destructive method used, very creative." She mentioned as she looked at it both physically and spiritually for any signs of infection, already there or starting. She found none.
He down-played his attitude about it and shrugged, "I guess…"
"Do you mind telling me, on your own account, as to why you did it?" She asked as she damped several tissues with the elfroot potion, and lightly dabbed it on the raised skin.
Aeneas winced when it stung him and began to itch a little, but soon became cold and soothing. "What? You don't believe I'm a blood mage? I figured I should be waiting for a headsman, or at least the Rite of Tranquillity, when I was in my cell, anyway... Greagoir seemed to imply it, at least…"
"It is a fair, if grim notion. Blood magic is a crime against nature, as you well know. Though I'm not so self-righteous to believe that anyone is beyond redemption, though it does beg the question, doesn't it? Do we suffer a blood mage to live and fall victim to their dark magic, or do we show mercy and compassion… try to steer them away from their current path and show them that there is good in this world, and that they can cause much good themselves?"
"You didn't answer my question." He replied blankly.
"It is not my place to judge, so I shan't voice my opinion on the matter."
"I'll take that as a 'yes', then."
Wynne shook her head, "regardless of what I think you do in private is irrelevant at this point. I am to merely play the part of the 'wet nurse', as you apprentices put it, and see you healthy again. Now, if you don't mind, I would like you to stand and face away from me." It may have been an unnecessary pre-caution, given the amount of time they were speaking for, though better safe than sorry.
Aeneas sighed and stood up to turn his back to her, allowing her further her role as a physician and look at him more thoroughly. She gently touched the skin of the midsection of his back, under his rough tunic, which caused him to arch his back at the cold magic being applied. Wynne did an in depth examination of his body's integumentary, digestive, lymphatic and nervous systems.
Aeneas had felt faint most of the time when he was in his cell, though right then he cursed himself for almost collapsing. Somehow he had managed to catch himself before he did so, but Wynne had also noticed and held onto him to keep him steady.
"You're alright, Aeneas. Almost done, then you can take a lie down and have something to eat." She rubbed his back in circles in a comforting manner.
Aeneas wasn't going to reply, that was until he felt very nauseated, causing his breathing to become more shallow "I… think I'm going to need a bucket soon…"
She smiled sadly at him and finished her examination, gesturing for the Templar to help him to one of the infirmary beds. She also assumed the Templar went away to find a bucket for Aeneas. She came back with a glass of cold water and placed it on the end-table next to the bed. Though Aeneas had his good arm over his eyes as he concentrated on his breathing.
"I will check on you again after your body has expelled the poison, and after you've eaten."
That night was filled with the sounds of laboured breathing, coughing and retching in the infirmary.
