Birds of a Feather
Chapter 1
She walked briskly, with a purpose. She walked with a certain air of pride about her, her head high and her back straight and her eyes forward.
She walked like all the mages did- at least, in the corridors. In front of the Templars.
Because in front of them, she wasn't herself; she was a steady bulwark of confidence. And magic.
Because to them, she wasn't a person; she was an unsightly stain on the face of humanity. She was a danger.
She was a mage.
And, it was because of that defining factor that she was who she was. Both sides.
Because, you see, mages had an armor of their own. Not the shiny, hard, metal kind like the Templars. This one was more... ethereal. Like them.
And it was that armor that she, like so many of her fellow mages, she had donned right now. Just to travel four doors down the hall of the Tower, her home.
And her prison.
She understood the ideas of the Circle Tower. And appreciated it (though grudgingly). She knew people were none too kind to mages. Pernicious, even. She knew why they were feared, and why so many precautions were taken to prevent a demon's possession of a mage. And she understood the dangers of what would happen should a mage become possessed. Heck, she even understood the threat of Blood Mages.
But what she didn't know or understand was why so many Templars were needed in so many places.
Or why they glared and set their jaws every time a mage came within ten feet of them.
No, she didn't understand that.
But, eventually, she stopped caring.
She did what every other mage did; she racked it up to their self-righteousness, arrogance, ignorance, and the fact that Templars were all-around just not nice. And then she set it to the back of her mind. So she could focus on more important things... Like getting to the library.
This, in the entire Tower, was the one place that she felt really, truly safe. Even more so with its obligatory Templar guard gone.
She smirked a little bit, her eyes scanning over one of the numerous shelves, searching titles for something to pass the time until her next lesson. 'They really should get on that.'
The Templar that had once been posted there had retired about a week ago, and the Knight-Commander Greagoir had been unable to find a replacement since.
So, with the exception of the occasional already-present Templar doing 'overtime', the Library doors remained quite Templar-less.
Which, her fellow apprentices had all come to agree, was something that needed to happen far more often.
oOo
Two hours later, tired, frustrated, and smelling slightly of smoke and burnt hair, she made her way back to the Apprentice Quarters.
That hadn't been one of her best sessions.
They had gone over Primal spells. Again.
And she had failed fantastically at three of the four elements. Again.
Water was the only one she had ever shown a real knack for. Water and Ice. She could never seem to be able to maintain enough control over Fire and Lightning. Because, well… Fire—well, she had never done well with fire. And Lightning just seemed so… jumpy; it was hard to get a grasp on. It wasn't impossible, but it was annoying. And then there was Earth. Which apparently, she had too much control over. Or it had control over her. But either way, no matter how much she willed it, that stuff just wouldn't move. She might as well try to win an arm-wrestling match with a Bronto, she had told her mentor once. With her pinky.
She'd stick to Ice, Spirit, and Creation, thanks.
oOo
She was glad to be rid of that smoky smell that had been stalking her. And those singed robes. Briefly, as she was wringing the water from her hair, she wondered exactly how many robes the Circle had lost thanks to a wayward spell or flight of concentration.
She smiled at the image of a giant, lightly smoking mountain of apprentice robes that appeared in her head.
oOo
There was a little less than an hour 'til dinner, and her friends all had lessons now.
She was done for the day, though. So, with her lessons through, she had changed into slightly more comfortable clothes.
Except now she was bored.
Well'p, back to the Library
They were allowed to take books out to bring back to bed. Provided the books be returned the following day before breakfast. (After all, there were only so many books. And so many apprentices.)
And so, that's what she did.
She thought that she might take out something light. Maybe even a tome or two on Primal Magic to work on that assignment her mentor had given her after her wonderful display of incompetence.
At least, that's what she planned to do. Until the Tranquil at the Library's head was so very kind to tell her that she had about five texts that were missing. And filed under her name.
And that she wasn't taking anything, not even a piece of blank vellum, through those doors until she was "kind enough as to please return the Library's texts" because they were "Property of the Circle of Magi" and that she was "holding them without proper consent of their rightful owner," and that she was "going against Circle regulation" in addition to committing a "legal offense."
And, if she didn't know any better, she could have sworn the Tranquil was laughing at her.
Except she did know better.
Because Tranquils didn't laugh.
Right.
And so she trudged back to the Apprentice Quarters, spent a few minutes digging through her trunk and under her bed, and re-emerged finally with the five missing culprits: three tomes of study, A volume entitled Magic and Mana: Theory and Practice, Vol. III, and a smaller, black, leather-bound book with barely legible gold print and a scarlet ribbon stuck between the pages.
Oh. Her bookmark.
She had been looking for that.
Kind of frantically, actually.
And she still hadn't finished reading the book that it was marking. Partially because it had been buried under a pile of robes for the past few days, but that was beside the point.
She set the pile of books down on her trunk and picked up the little black book, letting it fall open to the page that the fabric bookmark was placed on. It was slightly faded and frayed, and was perhaps quite elegant-looking once upon a time.
But her constant habit on running her fingers over it, fiddling with it, and all-around abusing it while she read had taken care of that.
But she loved it anyway. More than loved.
Cherished.
Because it was the only thing that left from her first home.
She closed the book back up, leaving the little ribbon dangling over the book's edge and stacked the texts back up, the smallest book on top. She'd ask to take the book out again, tonight. Hopefully, she'd finally finish the blasted thing.
She made her way through the almost deserted hallways and up the stairs, catching glimpses of spells and lectures.
And templars.
And she was more than three quarters of the way there, contemplating stopping for a moment to give her arms a break, when she Talked head-long into something.
And that 'something' responded with an "Ow."
She fell back, 'it' stumbled, and the books went flying.
Oh, for Andraste's sake.
Grimacing and wincing, she got up and rubbed her backside. Stone flooring wasn't exactly the ideal material to cushion a fall.
"Oh. I'm sorry."
She looked up, frowning.
"I-I wasn't watching where I was going, and I got a little l-lost and—. I-I didn't mean to run into you like that, honest. I'm sorry."
Her frown disappeared, replaced by a mildly quizzical look as she eyed the cause of her collision.
He was a young man, perhaps in his early twenties, with ginger, slightly curly hair, a light trace of a beard, and brown eyes.
He was dressed in a traveler's cloak and looked more than a little tired, but he gave her a small (albeit nervous) smile all the same.
And hey—he's not that bad looking.
Wait, what? She mentally slapped herself.
No. Bad. No suddenly appraising random strangers' physical appearance—you're not Elsie. Bad, bad, bad.
"It's fine," she said, smiling back and bending down to pick up one of the tomes, "Don't worry about it."
He nodded, but she didn't see. She was too busy looking around, trying to locate where the other books had fallen. Which was proving much more difficult than it should have been.
Mostly because they weren't there anymore.
"A-are these yours?"
She looked up.
The man was standing in front of her, holding the other four texts in his arms.
Exactly how he had managed to pick them up so fast was beyond her.
"Well, technically they're the Circle's. But yeah—thanks." She held her arms out to take them from him.
But he didn't hand them over.
"Do- do you need help? Carrying these, I mean. They're kinda heavy."
Eyebrow raise.
"Erm—I—thanks for the offer, but I'm headed in the opposite direction, actually. I need to return these to the Library."
"Oh." She thought she heard the slightest hint of disappointment in his voice.
"You said you got lost?" She said, quickly, wondering if she had offended him. She found it a little hard to believe that he had gotten lost; the Tower wasn't that confusing a place. But then again, she had lived there her entire life.
Harder to believe, still was not the fact that the man in front of her had gotten lost, but that he could get lost.
People in the Tower had usually been there a long time. And they definitely didn't walk around in traveling cloaks.
A visitor?
That was hard to believe, too; generally, people did their best to avoid that giant, looming fortress in the middle of Lake Calenhad that was full of horrid, dangerous demon-children.
"Y-yeah. I was looking for the F-First Enchanter's office. Do-do you know where that is?"
Double-eyebrow raise.
"Yes," she said slowly, "I do… Would you like me to show you?" She frowned slightly, briefly wondering why in the Maker's name she was being so hospitable towards this man.
"Oh!" He brightened, but the smile faded quickly. "Oh, but I thought you said you were headed in the other direction?"
"I am." She said, "And you should be, too. You really are lost, aren't you?"
He swallowed, his ears turning a light pink.
She gave a light laugh.
"Don't worry," she muttered, turning away, "The First Enchanter's office isn't too far away from where I'm headed. You can come with me, if you like."
And so he did.
They walked in silence, mostly, with the exception of the man's occasional remark of "Wow, the Tower's big," or "Huh, that's a rather strange-looking statue," from behind the stack of books he was carrying (he had refused to give them back, insisting that it was both an apology for running in to her and a thanks for her pointing showing him where to go).
"Oh," she said finally, coming to a stop in front of the Library's double-doors. "Here." She turned to her temporary shadow and gave another small smile. "I can take those back now. Thanks a lot for your help."
The man nodded and carefully transferred the pile of texts to her, as if he wasn't sure if her arms would break off or not once the rest of the books had been given to her.
"Thanks," she said again, "Now the First Enchanter's office is just three doors down, continuing on this side. It's right across from the stairs, the last door in the hall; you can't miss it. Of course," she muttered as an after-thought, "Irving might not be in there. He tends to wander."
"Oh." The man looked disappointed. Or what it nervous?
"But he probably will be," she said quickly. The poor man looked nervous enough as it was. "He usually is around this time."
He nodded, though not completely reassured. "R-right. Th-thanks so much for your he-help."
She nodded back.
"U-um, if you don't mind," he said rather quickly, "M-may I ask you your n-name? I'm C-Cullen."
She resisted the urge to give him a 'whoa-did-you-just-grow-another-head?' sort of look.
"Solana. Solana Amell."
He nodded again, giving her his small, nervous smile and thanked her one last time before he headed off towards Irving's office.
A/N: A book-dropping collision? Jeeze, how much more cheesy could I GET? D: And yes, I was lame and used the default name. c:
As always, reviews are loved.~