(This begins the story that Talita is writing with her own hand as she is held prisoner by the Antivan Crows. It is a flashback, moving back through time to the months before the opening scenes of Dragon Age Origins)
{Seems like a good time to post this: The world of Dragon Age belongs to Bioware, not me. I'm just in the sandbox for a while...}
Chapter 2: Wrinkles
"It has been decided," Knight-Commander Angelo began. "You will leave on the morrow with the others."
"The others, Knight-Commander?" I asked.
"Your teachers, Ivonetta and Everado. You'll continue your training as you travel with them to Ferelden."
"Ferelden?"
A sinking feeling swept over me, but I kept my expression still. Inside, I struggled for understanding – whatever had I done to deserve such punishment? Surely only the worst of Templar trainees were sent to the wet, cold lands of the barbarians?
Angelo smiled reassuringly, guessing my thoughts, I think. "Do not worry, Talita," he said. His brown eyes warmed with kindness, as they always did when we were able to speak alone. Angelo's vow to my dying mother to keep me safe from my traitorous father had governed our relationship for seven years now. Angelo, Knight-Captain of the Templar order in Rivain, was very much the father I wish I'd had.
Yet, was there sadness behind those eyes? Something he was not saying. I had to pry.
"It is my father, isn't it? He is causing trouble."
Angelo frowned. "Your father …yes, he has made several entreaties to the Grand Cleric Paulina concerning you. But, do not worry! He is not the reason I am sending you south. In fact, Paulina herself requested this. She knows of my trust in you, and has a specific mission in mind. Go to the Chantry gardens and speak with her. She is expecting you."
Fist over my heart, I bowed to him. As I turned away, a thousand questions bubbled up through the mental quicksand of my mind. Why would the Grand Cleric wish to see me in person? What sort of mission could she, the most important woman in the Rivaini Chantry, have for me, a mere Knight in training? Last I knew, Paulina was still disappointed that I had chosen to become a Templar instead of a cloistered sister.
Down the stone stairway leading from Angelo's office, I realized with horror that I was still wearing my training gear and was covered with dust and sweat from the day's lessons. One does NOT appear before the Grand Cleric looking like a market urchin playing at soldier! My heart leaped to my throat as I sprinted through the high-ceilinged corridors, past the frescoes of the Lady and down several more flights of stairs. The trainee barracks were below ground, two layers deep under the Knight's chapel. I jumped down the last half a flight of stairs, pressed past a younger trainee carrying folded linens (which dumped onto the floor as I passed) -
"Hey!" he growled.
"Sorry!" I shouted.
- and turned the last corner before my cell. I flung open the door and scrambled to find my parade tabard and boots.
Marianna looked up from her reading, looking annoyed. She was the only other female trainee and therefore my cellmate. She was two years my senior and very near the end of her studies. "What IS it, Talita? Who died?"
I opened the door of large, oak armoire we shared, and blinked. "Marianna! Where is my tabard?" I demanded.
Marianna shrugged, "How should I know?"
I turned toward her, my anger barely in check. "You borrowed it! Yesterday, for your review-" I narrowed my gaze at her. The raven-haired beauty did not even seem disturbed. With her flawless, pearlesque skin and eyes the color of the dusk blue sky, she was not accustomed to bowing to the needs of others. Even her teachers and trainers seemed tongue-tied around her. I, however, was never so charmed. I gave the leg of her chair a vicious kick!
Marianna fell unceremoniously to the floor. "You little rat dog! How dare you- "
I reached down and pulled her to her feet. Roughly. Little? She had the beauty, but I had the advantage of height and strength. I tried to ignore how common my darkly-tanned skin appeared so close to her perfect paleness. I was angry, and panicked. "I dare because I MUST have my tabard! I have been summoned to the Grand Cleric herself!"
At first, she stared at me, blinking, as if she could not believe what I had said. Then she pulled away – or rather, I allowed her to pull away. "Very well! You do not need to act like such a brute! I am sure it is here somewhere …"
She flipped open her storage locker and rummaged. In a moment, she produced the beautiful white silk tabard with the red embroidered flame of the Templar order emblazoned on it. It was wrinkled!
"You nearly ruined it!" I growled. "Quickly, get the steam for the wrinkles! Go!"
Rolling her eyes, Marianna tossed the tabard on my bunk and headed out. Meanwhile I pulled off the training leathers and chainmail vest. What I needed was a long, hot bath, what I had to settle for was a cool quick scrub from the washbowl. I washed, careful not to drip water near the silk, and pulled on clean trousers. I unbraided my hair, which was as brown as my skin but streaked with sungold, and was viciously attacking it with a brush when Marianna returned.
She eyed my progress and shook her head. Lazily, she found a place for the steaming kettle, flipped open the lid, and held my tabard in the steam.
"Careful not to get too close!" I warned.
"Yes, yes! I know."
I smoothed and rebraided my hair, grabbed my boots, and after giving them a quick rub with the polish cloth, pulled them on.
I was out of time. The tabard was not perfect, but it was better. I took it from Marianna and pulled it over my head. She handed me the scarlet sash and I tied it about my hips. Stepping back, I turned a full circle. "How does it look?" I asked.
Marianna frowned. "Lucky for you the Grand Cleric is known to be losing her sight."
This was my first attempt at first person POV. My goal is for us to FEEL the events as they happen to her.
Reviews, comments, posts, favorites are mana from the Maker. Please let me know what you think, I know there is a ton of room for improvement. TY!
Read on, it gets better! :-)