Ah, such a fun weekend! I setup my Christmas tree, this is the first time I've been able to afford to put one up, so I'm excited. My mom and I surprised my sister by buying one for her since she couldn't afford to get one this year ^-^
On the other hand, my brother is no longer talking to me. His girlfriend isn't going to be able to pay for college next semester and he wants to leave the dorms and get an apartment with her. All of us are very against this (he's only 18, it's not his job to support her) but see if he listens to any of us. He thinks it's just that none of us like her (which we don't, but that's not the point).
Anyway, enough about my family drama :P So many wonderful reviews this week ^-^ Thank you to Omynos, amanda weber, Sannenschein, Sasuke's Kanojo, alyssacousland, and Bingham Vance.
Anyway, I'll let you get to the story now, shall I? Hehehe bet you're eager to know what Kallia is going to do to Goldanna… *evil grin*
.oO***Oo.
Kallia had locked the door to her and Morrigan's room. The witch had quirked an eyebrow at the action but otherwise remained silent and watched Kallia pull ingredients out of the many pouches around her belt.
She grabbed her mortar and pestle from her pack and began to mash the soap root leaves (instead of the roots) with the dried rock-barely. She mashed until a very pale blue, almost white, foam began to appear. When that happened she scraped the herbs and a thimble's worth of distilling agent into a flask before filling it up halfway and vigorously shaking it. The water in the flask began to change from blue to a milky green.
Kallia held out her palm facing up and summoned a small ball of fire, glad that she greatly improved her control over fire since she didn't have the equipment necessary to create a flame as hot as she needed. Granted she had never created a flame this hot with just her magic so it was probably a bad idea to be doing this inside...
It took every ounce of focus Kallia had to concentrate the heat from the fire in her hand, the ball slowly grew smaller and brighter, changing from orange to purple. Finally, just as the flame became uncomfortably warm, it was hot enough and Kallia held the flask an inch above the flame as she tried not to think about the warnings the nerves in her hand were giving her. Fire this hot was not meant to be held in one's hand.
But she ignored it as the potion lost its opaque quality and became a dark transparent green. As soon as it had reached the color she wanted she extinguished the flame and set the flask on a heat retardant cloth to cool and examined the damage to her hand. She was surprised when Morrigan was suddenly at her side with a cloth soaked in cold water. The witch looked away as she offered the cloth to Kallia.
Kallia reached for the cloth hesitantly, "Thank you."
Morrigan scoffed. "You should know better than to hold fire in your hand that long. You didn't even create the potion properly."
"No, I did it right," Kallia glanced at the flask sitting on the table. "It's not a cleaning potion."
"Oh?" the witch asked a bit too nonchalantly. "What is it then?"
"The opposite, it's an anti-" a knock at the door interrupted Kallia and caused both women to look at it in surprise.
" 'Tis your Templar," Morrigan stated, though both women already knew.
Kallia's eyes shot to the potion she'd been making, she didn't want Alistair to know her plans. Her panic must have shown on her face because Morrigan just deposited the cool cloth in Kallia's damaged hand and went to open the door a few inches. She planted her foot behind the door so Alistair couldn't open it more than she allowed him. Mangy let off a huff and moved to lie behind the door, knowing the witch didn't have the strength to prevent the door from opening further if Magic Knight tried to open it.
"She's naked. Go away," she told him coldly and tried to close the door. Alistair's foot slipped between the door and the frame preventing her from doing so, however.
"I'm not in the mood for this, Morrigan," his voice floated from the doorway.
"And I am not in the mood for you to be standing at my bedroom door, yet here you are. That you are not in the mood for it does not make it any less true."
"Morrigan-" the Templar started angrily but then cut himself off. He signed tiredly and finished instead, "Look, just tell her I need to talk to her, ok?"
"I'll be there in a few minutes, Alistair," Kallia called. As soon as Morrigan clicked the door shut behind him, the elf began trying to heal her burned hand. She half expected him to come banging back and demanding to know what she was healing and how she got hurt. When he didn't, she frowned and muttered, "Odd," under her breath but soon dismissed it. He was too caught up in his grief to notice anything else, most likely.
Once her hand was healed, Kallia glanced at the flask sitting on the table. It would need to cool for at least 10 more minutes.
.oO***Oo.
Kallia made her way over to her Templar as soon as she saw him sitting at the bar with a rather large mug of ale sitting in front of him. She sat next to him on the stool, though he gave no acknowledgement of her presence. "You were looking for me?" she prompted.
He was silent for a long moment before he finally said, miserably, "I can't help but wonder why I even went. I wasn't expecting her to be so…"
"You couldn't have known, Alistair," Kallia told him, remembering the kind woman he'd imagined that time in the Fade.
"I almost wish I hadn't given her any money. I know we don't exactly have a lot," he muttered and rested his head on his arms.
"We have enough. We'll get by without the few sovereigns we gave her," she told him. "You'll just have to do without the gold crown, your highness." Alistair raised his head and stared at her with a shocked expression. "What?" Kallia asked him, feeling like squirming under his gaze.
"You told a joke," he stated as a smile slowly crept onto his face. "A funny one. On purpose."
"I tell lots of jokes," Kallia huffed, slightly indignant.
"Not funny ones. And not on purpose," he replied with a smirk but the expression quickly fell and he looked back at the table. "Anyway, I wanted to thank you for being there after… For talking me down."
"That's what family does, right?" Kallia asked hesitantly.
"Not mine, apparently," he muttered. The air warmed and Kallia's chest puffed out in anger.
"Yes, well you have another family now. A better one. One that cares about you and doesn't want to see you miserable over a selfish harridan that needs to be taught some manners!"
Despite himself, he found it somewhat comforting to see her so upset on his behalf… You had to care about someone to get upset for them, right?
"Thank you," he told her. "You're a true friend and I…" he hesitated, unable to get the words he wanted out of his mouth. "You're a true friend, Kallia," the Templar finished instead.
"You could call me Kali, if you wanted," she told him. "The rest of our little family does."
"I.." he opened to speak, then shut it a few times, not really knowing how to respond. Calling her anything but her real name just seemed so intimate and despite all the time he spent around her, he felt his face flush. "Thank you, Kali."
Saying her nickname didn't feel as foreign as he thought it would instead it felt…right.
.oO***Oo.
On the way back to her room, Mangy suddenly became excited and began jumping around. "Do you see something interesting?" Kallia asked him. Mangy barked excitedly. Yes, yes he did and it would be useful. Should he go get it? The elf chuckled and waved him off, "Go on then," she told him and the dog darted off.
Morrigan was nowhere to be seen when Kallia got back to the room, but Kallia paid little mind to that and went straight to the flask. She removed the cork and held the opening to her nose only to jerk it away quickly as her nose scrunched in disgust. It smelled worse than she remembered. It would need to be watered down. She poured half the contents into a second flask and filled them the rest of the way with water.
Mangy pawed at the door at that moment, so she set the flasks down to open it for him, once again locking it after she shut it. He dropped what appeared to be a pile of dirty rags as her feet, so Kallia stooped to pick them up. An old, dirty pair of pants, a worn tunic, and a brown skirt.
They'd be perfect.
The elf slipped out of her robes and into the tunic and skirt then grabbed the flasks and pants and took them to the bathtub. After emptying the flasks over the pants she hung them over the edge to dry and went to the mirror. As she wove she spells around her to change her appearance the conversation she'd had with Zevran the day before floated to her mind.
"You can change the way things appear, yes?" he had asked her. She must have frowned in confusion because the other elf chuckled and added, "Alistair is constantly asking you to make Morrigan's hair a hideous color. I assume you have the ability to do so or you would have told him you couldn't, my Warden."
"I can change the color of hair," she answered slowly. "I've never tried anything else."
Zevran smirked, "What about a card, could you make it appear to be a different card?"
Kallia instantly began thinking of the weaves necessary to do as he asked, "It would only need to last through the game so it wouldn't need to be a very secure weave… Yes, I think I could do it."
The assassin chuckled. "We shall show her what you are made of yet, my dear Warden," he told her and began making his way back to the table.
"Zevran, wait," she called after him, when he paused and looked at her she held up the string he had given her. "What's this for?"
"To disguise the movement of your fingers so she doesn't realize you are… weaving," he smirked as he told her and they both made their way back to the table.
As Kallia tucked the last thread of her spell into place she studied herself in the mirror. Her hair had faded to a light silver, her skin had sagged and wrinkled, her eyes had clouded, and her form now stood hunched. She cocked her head to the side and stared. So this is what she would look like in her old age.
If she reached it.
She glanced down at Mangy when he bumped her hand with his head and informed her that she was his elf and he had every intention of making sure she looked old and wrinkled like this one day without the help of magic. She smiled sadly and scratched his ears. "That is a great many years, Mangy," she replied, blinking in surprise as the voice that came from her mouth was not her own. It was deeper, almost seeming to crack with her faked old age. "But I appreciate the thought."
The braids were too recognizable, she decided, so she reached up and removed the ties then ran her fingers through them leaving her loose silver hair to cascade down her back. Kallia grabbed her staff from where it leaned against the wall. As she continued to look over herself, she was glad that her staff looked like little more than a gnarled old branch she had grabbed from the side of the road.
"What do you think, Mangy?" she asked him. He jumped and barked happily then ran to the door and sat down. Kallia chuckled, grabbed the pants, and opened the door.
Two steps down the hallway, Alistair turned the corner in front of her. He seemed lost in thought and was paying little mind to anything around him so Kallia attempted to make herself as small and quiet as possible trying not to attract his attention. Mangy even curled his toes back as well as he could to prevent his sharp nails from clacking on the floor.
This did little good, however, as Alistair tripped over his own feet and knocked her over, only just managing to turn himself so he didn't crush her.
"Andraste's knickers! I'm sorry!" he exclaimed and he scampered to his feet, picking her up and placing her on her feet. "You're not hurt, are you?"
"I'm fine," she told him and waved his hands off.
"Are you sure? I could-"
Kallia only just stopped herself from saying his name, "Stop fussing," she snapped, her nerves that he would recognize her were beginning to get to her. Alistair's hands immediately dropped to his side. "You have not injured me, I am fine," she repeated to him.
"But you're so old!"
Kallia couldn't help it; she threw back her head and laughed. "Get back to your room, young man," she had to fight a smile at the words, she was fairly certain Alistair was older than her. "I have somewhere to be."
She turned away, still chuckling… It never occurred to her to wonder why he didn't feel the magic and recognize her.
.oO***Oo.
"Go Mangy, she'll recognize you," Kallia told the mabari. She gripped her staff tightly and opened the door.
"What the bloody 'ell do you want, you knife-eared crone?" came a screechy voice to her left.
"To reach an age as old as this is a gift, my dear," Kallia informed her as she hobbled into the room.
"The gift of old age is worth nothing to me, old woman. It will not put food in my children's mouths or put clothes on their backs. If you don't have any washing to be done, get out."
Kallia reached under her arm and brought out the pants. "I want to have these washed," Kallia told her. As she held the pants out to the human, she allowed her hand to shake slightly. The woman took the pants with a disgusted look.
"Eight bits, knife-ears," Goldanna told her and, though Kallia had to wonder if the increase in price was because of the state of the pants or because she was an elf, she reached into her coin purse and withdrew the eight copper pieces. She would certainly get her money's worth when Goldanna tried to clean them anyway.
When the human reached for the coins, Kallia's other hand shot out far quicker than she thought herself capable of, she pulled the woman down so she could whisper in her ear.
"Someone should cut out that tongue of yours. You should be wary who you anger, human; there are dangers out there far worse than I," she warned in a gravelly voice.
And then she was gone before shock even had time to register on Goldanna's face, leaving only eight copper pieces and a pair of dirty, old pants, and a silencing spell (as a gift to the harridan's neighbors) as proof that she'd even been there at all.