Cullen sat bolt upright in bed, sending sweat soaked sheets tumbling off his bare chest and into his lap. Rubbing his hands down his damp face, he murmured one of the stanzas from the Chant of Light which he drew the most comfort after the dreams ruptured like old wounds during his sleep. “I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Fade. For there is no darkness, nor death either, in the Maker's Light.” The nightmares began to recede reluctantly, pulling their black veil from over his thoughts as he swung his legs over the side of his bunk and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. Taking a few deep breaths, he banished the last lingering traces of mingled memory and dreams as he stared, unseeing, at his toes. They were only dreams, and he was no mage. The demons of the Fade had no power over him under normal conditions, and even when they offered him temptation, he’d defied them before. He had faith that he could do so again, but these were only hauntings dredged up from his own past, brought on by the stress of changing homes.

Pushing himself to his feet, determination took hold as he blocked the memories of friends being tortured and defiled before their violent deaths. Sinking to one knee, he clasped his hands in front of himself and bowed his head, pushing back the threat of recollection where the demon who called itself Misery tried to seduce him while wearing Solona’s image. Winding his fingers together, he let the cooler interior of his quarters seep into his skin, soothing the sheen standing beaded on his shoulders and back. “The first of the Maker's children watched across the Veil. And grew jealous of the life. They could not feel, could not touch. In blackest envy were the demons born.” Immersing himself in the Chant and prayer for a quarter hour, he slid into a comfortable peace, and took to his feet again.

He kept his quarters as spotless as his armor and as he tried to keep his honor, pulling the sheets taut across the mattress of his bed and the pillow square in the center of the top. Once he’d bathed, shaved and put on the new set of Kirkwall armor the Knight-Commander had bestowed on him, he tied the red cummerbund around his waist and knotted it in the traditional style which were identical to all of them if they kept their uniform the way it was intended. Like any regiment, they were all clad identically and it became as much a part of their identity as the crests and symbols of the Chantry which were emblazoned on the armor itself. Finally running a comb through his short blond hair, then settling weapon and shield in place, he stepped outside for his routine duties of the day. He found a notice tacked to his door.

It seemed Alyss had obtained permission from the First Enchanter and Knight-Commander, so he was to escort the mage through Kirkwall. It would be a small diversion which he would allow himself some pleasure in, because he was honest when he said he wanted to get to the know the city, himself. Taking a final look to make sure everything was in its place inside his quarters, he put the note on top of his desk. Once the door was closed, he strode out to the Gallows, nodding with a warm smile of greeting to the sisters and fellow knights of the Order who he passed by, greeting them a good morning. He’d learned almost all their faces and names, and had managed to match most of the mages, as well. His new armor took some adjustment getting used to the different way it sat on him, but he’d become used to that, as well. He strode down outdoor stone steps with soft scrapes of metal against metal proceeding him to rendezvous with his charge for the day.

Alyss rocked back and forth on her feet, barely containing her excitement. She held a small permission slip, signed by the Knight-Commander herself. While Alyss hadn't been looking forward to asking Meredith for it, at least it went well. The Knight-Commander was the only templar that made the mage uneasy. While the other templars would sometimes be cold and rude with the mages, Meredith was strict and would outright smite any mage who defied or annoyed her in any way. And after receiving one on her boat to Kirkwall from a templar who caught her healing a refugee, she was more than happy to avoid that ever happening again, even if it meant playing nice with the old woman.

As she waited for Cullen, Alyss checked to see if she was ready. She wore her usual Circle robes under her favorite green vest, a belt loosely around her hips. Attached to the belt was a small sack for little necessities for her to carry around. Her deep red hair was pulled up into a high ponytail, long bangs framing her slightly rounded face. Colorful songbird feathers were tucked neatly into the base of her ponytail. Around her neck was a leather collar with an amethyst pendant hanging from it. She had considered bringing her staff, but seeing as she wouldn't be casting any spells outside of the Gallows, and with Cullen around she wouldn't need to fight anyone, there was no reason to bring it.

Glancing around, she realized just how little activity there was in the courtyard at this hour. Most everyone was either sleeping or getting ready for the day in some way, shape or form. Alyss had gotten up much earlier than she really needed to, but she had wanted to make sure she was one hundred percent ready when Cullen came to escort her. Speaking of which, where was he? She frowned impatiently, now bouncing on the balls of her feet. She didn't want to wait another moment. Of course, even if he had been approaching her, she wouldn't have noticed. In her giddy excitement, she made the mistake of facing the wrong way, thinking he'd come from a different side of the courtyard.

Cullen cleared his throat when he was behind her, catching the fidgeting posture, although he had expected as much. Evidently he was the only templar assigned to her, and took that as both a compliment in Knight-Commander Meredith’s trust as well as making him take it all the more seriously. “If you’re ready?” He realized he hadn’t eaten anything before leaving, and attributed that to his nightmares. It would not do him harm to fast for awhile, but if they came across a vender in their travels, he’d remedy his hunger with something light. Hightown seemed the safest place to go first, where he could keep an eye on her as well as avoid the concern someone would cause an incident because of her. Although he doubted that would happen while she was in her presence, there was one thing which he agreed with that the Ferelden First Enchanter was fond of using to remind apprentices: the templars also served to protect mages from people. He was not going to allow any harm to come to her while she was under his watch any more than he’d allow her to hurt a civilian or escape. That meant avoiding Lowtown.

In walking out of the Gallows, he could appreciate the desire for a change of scenery. The huge bronze statues of the odd birds and subjugated elves loomed dismally over everything cut of white and grey stone. The templar cummerbunds were the only thing which broke up the uniformity with color, and while secure, he imagined it any of the mages would leap at the chance of something different. That didn’t budge his opinion that it was much more secure and better situated than the Ferelden tower.

Giving one of his fellow templars a respectful nod as they passed him, he lead the way to Hightown, observing the city go through a remarkable transition. The farther they strayed from the Gallows, the more vines hung from the ramparts of buildings, more people milled around them going about their daily routines, and vendor stalls began sprouting more often than the beggars sitting in the streets. One weapon smith barked out in a gravely voice: “Don’t get killed, buy my armor!” The pitch could use work in Cullen’s opinion, but he could appreciate the brutal honesty.

Alyss nearly jumped when Cullen made his presence known. "By the Maker, don't sneak up on me like that!" She quickly nodded in response to his question, beaming brightly as she followed him out of the Gallows. Maker, she'd only been stuck in there for little over a year now and she was always dying to get out. She wondered how some of the other mages could live there for almost their entire lives. She almost shuddered at the thought.

Another thing she didn't understand was why the templars had chosen the Gallows, of all places. The place practically radiated negative energy, what with all the statues and the personal chambers feeling like you were in prison. They at least could have chosen a more "homey" location to make the mages more comfortable. Or at least give them somewhere to feel the grass between their toes.

But such thoughts weren't for now. For the first time in a year the mage was seeing somewhere new for a change. Silver eyes widened in wonder as the pair walked into... Hightown, was it? Yes, that seemed right. Everyone here wore noble's attire, and seemed to walk with an air that suggested they felt superior to others around them. Doubt any of these people would go for a run on the beach or a swim in a lake. She snickered lightly at the image.

"Don't get killed, buy my armor!" came from a smith running a stall. Alyss blinked, having been pulled out from her thoughts. Looking around, she noticed other vendors scattered around the area. Mostly weapons, armor... Are those robes?! "Finest silks in all of Kirkwall! Don't have to be a mage to wear a dress!" came from the woman running the stand. Alyss was a sucker for clothes, especially elegant dresses and the like. Oh, and shoes. As much as she loved walking barefoot, shoes were always her weakness. And jewelry. And...

Her thoughts trailed off. Leaving Cullen's side, Alyss subconsciously made her way over to the stand, a deep purple robe catching her eye. "Good morning, messere. See anything you like?" asked the woman, smiling sweetly. The mage bit her lip, rubbing the fabric of the robe between her fingers. "I'm just browsing. Sorry." Andraste's knicker weasels! If only she had the coin for it. It wasn't fair that mages couldn't make a few sovereigns here and there. If they're going to lock us up, they might as well let us dress up a little! A deep frown twisted her features, her fingers unwilling to let go of the fabric.

Suddenly, the mage's face lit up as an idea came to her. She spun around to face Cullen, smiling brightly. "Hey! Cullen! Is there any chance there's a... Circle fund somewhere that, you know, mages can dip into every so often for the.. occasional shopping spree?" She didn't truly believe there was such a fund, but she needed an excuse to ask for coin. There had to be something he could do to allow her to buy one dress. Batting her eyelashes, she gave him her sweetest smile. Come on, who could resist those puppy eyes?

This post has been edited by Alyss Wilk on Jun 7 2011, 07:04 PM

Cullen was under a state of continual, professional courtesy and vigilance, although he was pleased she’d left her staff behind. It was one of the easy hallmarks indicating she was a Circle Mage, and it was safer for her not to announce it. He didn’t believe the citizens of Kirkwall would begin shouting for blood and mobbing her, but after what had happened... He knew it couldn’t be stopped, but Uldred had done his work well. Cullen would never forget Leorah’s screams or be able to blot out of his mind her words.

We trusted the templars to protect us!

There was nothing I could do, he reminded himself, icy stern in his mind, but I can represent everything the Order is now. He would return her safely back to the Tower when the day was over, and help keep her as complacent as possible for her time outside. Letting her enjoy the momentary freedom, he lurked at her shoulder, watching her hands in case she tried something as desperate as reaching for the weapons laying out on the tables. She had no history of trying to escape. If she did attempt to run, it would more likely be an attack in the form of magic over metal, but he automatically prepared for anything when dealing with mages. She was much more interested in robes and clothing. Good, he approved silently, and watched kept his eyes fixed on her hands as she let the folds of cloth slide through them.

He automatically took a half step back as she spun around on him, his fingers twitching in the heavy leather gloves and metal casing. “Yes?” he inquired courteously, and she went on to ask him about Circle funding. “I don’t think so.” He shook his head, not knowing exactly how it worked in Kirkwall, but if such a thing existed, she would have heard of it before then, surely. Even in Ferelden they weren’t allowed a great deal in the way of personal possessions, with the risk of someone smuggling in forbidden contraband on blood magic or artifacts. “If you need something, I’ll purchase it for you, however, provided the cost isn’t too high.” He didn’t know if he’d be compensated for it, but surely the Circle didn’t mean for their mages to go without warm clothing in winter or shoes worn down to the cobbler tacks. If it needed to come from his pocket, it would fall loosely under his duty to his charges as far as his line of thinking went on the matter. Mages were allowed to exist with the Chantry and Templars’ permission, but even stray dogs were fed in Ferelden.

Alyss bounced where she stood, beaming and resisting the urge to hug him. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Turning to the woman running the stall, still beaming. "I'll take this robe!" Smiling sweetly, the woman said, "Good choice. That'll be five sovereigns." Nodding, Alyss gestured towards Cullen. "He'll be paying for it. Isn't he such a sweety?"

The woman took down the dress, folding it up and putting it in a small box. Now looking at Cullen, she said, "You're a good man, buying this for your wife. I'm sure she'll love it." Alyss, having already moved on to a stand with various trinkets from around Thedas missed what the woman said, absorbed in a small crystal ball she'd picked up. "Hey, Cullen," she refused to use his title, "Do you think these things work? I've heard that if you look into them... You can see your future. Or was it your past? Or was it your mother? I can't remember." Setting the crystal ball down, she moved on to another object. She was strange like that, having the attention span of a fruit fly. Unless, of course, there was fruit around. Then she'd be all over it like a dwarf on dwarven ale. Or... something like that. What was she doing, again?

Oh, right, inspecting this odd intricately-designed box with a knob sticking out of the side of it. At first she tried to pull it, but then the vendor placed a hand over hers. Looking up, she saw him shake his head. "No no no.. Not like that. Here, let me show you." Taking the box from her hands, the man twisted the knob. It made a clicking noise every time he spun it, and when he let it go, it started to play music. Alyss gasped, recognizing the song. "I know this song! My mother used to sing it to me whenever I had a bad dream. It always put me right back to sleep." Humming along with the music box, the mage started to sway lightly. It brought back memories of her life in Denerim, of her family. Her smile slowly faded into a forlorn frown as she thought of her parents, of her home in Denerim. She'd only heard rumors, but it was said that most of Denerim had been destroyed. Alyss hadn't heard from her parents since before the Blight, though the many letters they had exchanged. She never found out what became of them.

The mage blinked, having just noticed the box was open. Inside a tiny figure of a couple in formal attire dancing turned slowly along with the music. On the bottom side of the box's lid there was a mirror, reflecting the figures' dance. She opened her mouth to ask how much it was, but decided against it. She'd already asked Cullen to buy her a dress, and he'd offered his own coin for it. She wouldn't take advantage of his offer, especially if the Circle wasn't going to reimburse him. Still, it was such a beautiful box... She eyed it longingly, a finger tracing the designs along it. Finally she tore her gaze from it, glancing over at Cullen. She smiled, though this time it was a bit forced. "So... Anywhere in particular you'd like to see? I'm kind of curious about the Chantry. Oh! Or the Viscount's keep! Er, that's right, isn't it? Viscount? I never get it right..." The Orlaisian word was foreign on her Ferelden lips, causing her to keep pronouncing the 'S' in Viscount.

“She’s not my wife,” he denied quickly to the woman. That hadn’t been what he’d had in mind, either, because the garment seemed frivolous compared to what she would need to keep her warm in the winter and the elements off while outside in the gallows. He’d made the mistake of making an offer, however, and the merchant already had her hand out.

“A courting gift, then,” the woman told him in the flowery voice of someone who daydreamed of frolicking toddlers in a field of budding flowers where love sprung eternal. She appraised the two who she thought was a couple. “Such a lucky pair. You two seem very happy together, if I might say so. Although you might smile more often, young man, or someone else is sure to whisk that pretty young lady away.”

He thought about insisting Alyss was his sister or some other close family relation, in spite of the detail they looked nothing alike, but the words cut off in the back of his throat before emerging. It didn’t matter, he didn’t want a lie on his soul, and the truth was better left unspoken. Wincing internally at the amount, he put the sovereigns into the merchants waiting palm, calculating the hefty dent it put into his pay. If it hadn’t been for his promotion, he would have been forced to call the entire thing off. For half a second his fingers almost closed around the gold and he considered insisting that she return it, but he was in the middle of the transaction. It would have been awkward to dismantle without difficult explanations. He also needed to keep an eye on what she was doing, and she’d already flitted off in a new direction. Maker, what had he gotten himself into? Accepting the robe once it had been neatly bundled into a brown paper parcel and tied with some twine, he handed it to Alyss. His hands needed to be free, and putting something in hers would only help keep her out of trouble.

While she was preoccupied with the music box and his attention was affixed to her, he managed to part with a few coppers to get an apple. Taking a bite through the ruddy red exterior, it was juicier than he had expected, making him lean forward reflexively and put his other hand under it, palm open. He caught the liquid before it ran down his chin, curling his lower lip under and licking it. Although he would not allow himself to feel pity for a mage, he had a detached understanding they missed their families. The Ferelden Circle allowed visitors, but they were always discouraged. Friends and neighbors could turn superstitious with families who had known blood of mages in their lines, branding them. He hurried after her, taking another bite out of the apple as he caught up. He didn’t need to tell her that the box, attractive as it was, wouldn’t be something she was likely to be allowed to keep. She seemed to understand without his being forced to choke on the price it commanded, because she would have needed to be someone dear to his heart to afford such a gift.

“You haven’t been to the Chantry?” he asked with some surprise. He would have thought it open to all the Maker’s children, even mages. “Of course I will take you there.”

“Some jewelry for your lady, Serrah?” a swarthy skin merchant asked as he swept his hand over a display of glittering jewels and cheaper cuts of glass, all sunk into varying grades of metal. “The finest of Orlesian crafts for the finest beauty of the market.”

“She’s not...” he stalled out with mild irritation, then politely declined. “No, not today.”

“Then how about a sword?” a burly man with a broad chest and thick arms asked, hefting a fine blade in his hands and holding it up to best catch the sunlight. “Perhaps a good ax?”

“Or your armor repaired?” another cut in, overriding the other two, and trying to get Cullen’s attention. “Never go to battle a blood mage with your straps worn!”

“No,” he repeated congenially, “not today. The armor is new.” Most of the details he caught about the people in the stalls were peripheral because he was intent on watching Alyss. “Viscount,” he repeated her pronunciation between devouring his apple. “You have it right. They have some interesting statues and tapestries in the keep. It’s public, so we can go there if you would like. The Chantry is closer.” He wanted to steer her out of the marketplace before she attached herself to anything else which was going to take tedious explaining or absorb that was left of his monthly pay. Someone did manage to part him from several silvers and a bundle of food, however. The apple, at least, had been just as good or better than home, and he’s been promised more of the same along with some cookies in the package. Not wanting to take time to browse least he have his attention distracted from where it was required, he took the entire thing.

This post has been edited by Cullen on Jun 10 2011, 09:35 AM

Sola bowed her head as the priest stretched her hand out over the congregation from her lofty perch at the pulpit, bidding them to go forth with the blessing of the Maker in their hearts. The chantry of Kirkwall was large enough to accommodate many people during the services, but it was all standing-room only, and as the services ended, and a chorus singing the verse of the Chant that had been the subject of today's services, the great doors swung out, and people began filing steadily out into the morning sunlight.

She lingered for a moment, looking up to gaze at the massive statue of Andraste against the wall...and getting a little woozy for her efforts. Wow. Much more impressive than the plain stone statue they'd had back in the Tower's chapel, that was for sure. Windows were a nice touch. It had been more than a year since she'd attended a morning service...since before she'd left the Tower, where attending services had been mandatory. They had to make sure the mages were all too aware of their sin-by-proxy of being born with magic, after all.

Services had always been boring, and she and Jowan had usually passed the time hiding games of stone-sword-parchment from the watchful glares of templars and priests alike, but in the last year, she'd actually come to miss the dull droning condemnation of a person in a robe with a superiority complex. And that was what compelled her to wake up in time for morning services today, blending in with the crowds of the faithful as they shuffled into the chantry. She wasn't carrying her staff, and she was dressed in common clothes, so provided no templars decided to feel her up with their magic-sense, she figured she'd be just fine.

As the crowd started to peter out, leaving only the stragglers behind, she turned to leave, aware that it would be unwise to stay. She hadn't spent the last year avoiding holy places for no reason, after all. She blinked against the bright sunlight that was steadily filling the chantry courtyard as she emerged, raising a hand to block the light from her eyes and descending the stone steps. She didn't rush, it wasn't like she had anywhere important to be, and she'd always figured that acting suspicious only drew suspicion, so she moved with casual ease, as if she actually did belong here. If only.

She gave a slight sigh, turning right at the bottom of the stairs to head down the stairs, following much of the crowd back into Lowtown. This was only her third day in Kirkwall, and she'd been living with her family in Lowtown since then. It was...strange, having people she'd never met before care about her, but it was also nice. They hadn't turned her over to the Circle yet, so she imagined they didn't have plans to. It was...unexpected. And nice. She glanced back over her shoulder briefly, throwing a cursory look around the courtyard and taking one last breath of the clean air, before she headed down the stairs into Lowtown.

Alyss shook her head. "No, I haven't. Or, well, haven't been to Kirkwall's chantry. I've seen a few in my travels, but none as grand as this one's supposed to be. Or so I've heard. I'll be thoroughly disappointed if it's plain like the others. I want it to have performers doing tricks and a giant sign that says 'Join the Chantry! We have sweets!' Or something like that." She grinned mischievously, using hand gestures to emphasize her words.

After taking one last longing glance at the music box, she nodded to Cullen. "Alright. Let's head on over to the chantry. Thanks again for the robe. I can't wait to try it on." As they walked in the direction of the Chantry, Cullen's apple caught the mage's attention. Watching him, she realized she hadn't eaten all day, having been so excited for this trip that she completely forgot breakfast. Her stomach let out a low growl, hunger gnawing at it. She bit her bottom lip, thinking about how long it had been since she had fresh fruit. Or any really decent food, for that matter. The Circle's cooks were alright. Not bad, but never really bothered to put in much effort, making the food kind of dull at times. Or at least her cook was. Maybe she just had bad luck with cooks.

"Erm... Did you happen to bring more of those? Miss Scatter-Brain over here forgot to eat before she left." She laughed somewhat nervously, feeling a bit awkward asking something of him yet again. What were templars paid, anyway? It was a full-time job, but seeing as they spent their whole time in the Circle, what would they use the coin for, anyway? Unless they have families, which was a rare occurrence. What if Cullen has a family? Oh Maker, that'd be awful, seeing as he could've bought a dress like that for his wife instead. She'd ask him about it later when there wasn't a more pressing issue at hand: Food. That, and making sure they didn't get lost. She sure hoped he knew where he was going.

Cullen was distracted by the honey gold colored hair in the crowd, and his entire body locked on itself for a half second, starting at the base of his skull and going to the ankles. The beautiful tumble was longer than he remembered it, but her profile... Mixed memories of an infatuated, naive boy stammering in the hallway when talking to her melded together like two torches with their flames put close together with the raw, relentless torture of Misery digging through his most private fantasies. He blinked, twisting his chin to one side and losing concentration for several seconds as he cleared his mind. Solona was dead. She’d been killed in the Circle, and the Maker was kind that she had been. Some of the mages resisted, and he’d been forced to watch what Uldred used enchanted templars to do to the women. Solona had far better off being killed in the initial uprising than suffer that fate or become an Abomination. Whoever he had seen, now lost in the crowd again, couldn’t have been her. It was only someone who reminded him of her, his mind putting in familiar details from his nightmares the night before. That was all it could be.

“You’re welcome,” he answered although the words were almost completely vacant due to mental absence before he slid back into his duty. Berating himself for the lapse in concentration, no matter how temporary, he unwrapped the bundle of food he’d just bought to see what was actually in it. “Stop here,” he told her under one of the trees which had been pruned carefully in the middle of the courtyard. His armor got hot when he was standing in the sun for a long period of time, but that was just one of the many ways a templar was disciplined, ignoring such discomforts. When it didn’t have to be borne, however, he wasn’t foolish enough to overlook a cooler place when it was available. Going through the assorted food, he took out an orange and handed it to her. He’d have trouble peeling it with gloves and gauntlets and she’d have better luck. It would also keep her hands busy, although he didn’t actually ask if she liked them or not. He also handed her an extra apple, after he’d given the stripped core his to a squirrel who was closing in on them. Once it skittered up into the tree, he split a small of bread and cheese with Alyss. “I have some water with me,” he told her with the ever present, courteous professional demeanor which stood between him and the world as a shield. He kept a canteen as part of his uniform as a precaution if he was sent unexpectedly running after an rogue mage. “Let’s sit so we can eat.” It wasn’t a suggestion so much as a command, although in both their best interest while they had access to some shade.

“I didn’t eat breakfast either,” he allowed, although he preferred having her parked, even briefly, while they both took some food. It was easier for him to make sure she didn’t go flitting off somewhere. There was a package of cookies in the bottom of the food contents, but he set those aside for one of them later. He preferred salted nuts as a luxury cuisine over sweets, but watching over her also meant seeing she didn’t go hungry. Turning around and going back to the Circle to eat would have been preferable, but she’d been given permission for the day out. Returning wasn’t acceptable, so he’d make sure she had food.

“The Chantry is beautiful here,” he informed her. He remained standing so long as she chose, or he’d sink into a kneeling position if she sat. He wanted to be up on his feet in an instant if something happened, so wouldn’t actually sit down in his armor. Getting back up took too long, but he could compromise. “I don’t think they go that far in getting converts.” Had it been one of the sisters, he might have actually cracked into a laugh at the humor. Possibly given some light banter of his own, but this was a mage. “It’s much larger than the one in Denerim, and the chapel inside the Circle of Ferelden would fit in one of the storage closets.”

This post has been edited by Cullen on Jun 10 2011, 09:32 AM

Alyss raised an eyebrow as she noticed Cullen suddenly tense for a moment. She considered asking what or who he had seen, but decided against it. For all she knew he could've just stepped in something gross. Well, even if he did, it wouldn't be the end of the world. It's not like those boots were pleasant to look at... Come to think of it, the whole templar uniform wasn't exactly 'stylish'. Way too official for Alyss. Maybe if they added a few colors. Anything would be better than the plain silver.

She took the fruit gratefully, following him under a tree. Plopping herself down on the ground next to it, she quickly and easily pealed the orange before popping a chunk into her mouth. She let out a hum in delight. It'd been a while since she had fresh fruit, and oranges just happened to be her favorite. She managed to get out a muffled "Thank you," but little else was heard from her until she finally finished the orange and moved on to the apple. Glancing over at him, she noticed that he wasn't sitting on the ground like she was. Her head tilted habitually in curiosity. Why wasn't he sitting like a normal person? Did he not want his armor to get dirty? Was there something wrong with the joints in his legs that made it hard to stand up? Or did the armor pinch his backside when he sat down? Or maybe he kept some mage-detecting nug back there that bit him every time it sensed a mage, and if he sat down he's squish it. A giggle escaped her before she could prevent it. She considered asking him about it, but decided she liked her explanations better.

Taking a bite of her apple, she nodded in the direction of a group of people heading down a large staircase. They seemed to be coming from where she had been told the chantry was. "Where're they going? What's down there?" she asked, mouth partially occupied by the bite from the apple. Leaning back against the tree, she watched the group. They didn't seem to fit in with the rest of the people in Hightown. While not necessarily poor, they obviously weren't nobles. Alyss had heard about the different 'ranks' of nobility in Kirkwall, but never really understood it. And they weren't really creative with their names.. Hightown, Undertown, Darktown... Wait, that's not right. Nighttown? Dusttown? Yeah, that sounds about right. They were all so similar. How one didn't get confused was beyond her. In Denerim districts were named by their function. None of this up, down, left, right nonsense.

Alyss blinked, raising an eyebrow at his mention of the Ferelden Circle. "They had a chapel in their Circle? Do most Circles have chapels? Kirkwall doesn't have one ((that I know of, correct me if I'm wrong)), seeing as we have such a 'grand' one in the city already. Or at least I think that's the reasoning. I honestly couldn't care less about the Gallows. They're so depressing. Why they plopped us mages in there, I'll never know. Nothing about the place can be described as 'cheerful'."

Cullen took the cap off his small canteen and let Alyss have some water before he drank some, himself, washing down his impromptu breakfast. “They’re coming from the Chantry.” He gestured toward them with the container still in hand, then twisted the cork back into it before he clipped it to his belt. “One of the services has finished. That’s Lowtown in that direction, where some of them live.” The nobility were peeling off in groups to go warm their expensive homes in the Hightown district where those with shabbier clothing where taking another path. Meredith had taken him on a tour through that particular area, but he hadn’t been back through it, yet. The Hanged Man wasn’t on his list of stops with Alyss in tow. Once he’d finished eating, he unconsciously tossed out the last of his bread crumbs for the birds before standing. It was one of the few things he did outside his duty without ever actually thinking about. Plates of metal creaked as they rubbed against each other when he took to his feet.

The two of them were mostly ignored except for one young man who hadn’t quite grown into his arms and legs quite, yet, and his facial hair wouldn’t have dusted a peach skin. He followed them for awhile, and Cullen kept him in periferal vison, wondering what he could want. Before they got into the Chantry, the boy sucked in a deep breath and darted up to Alyss. “Good day,” he spilled all at once through trembling lips and handed her several songbird feathers. “I saw you had some in your hair and I thought I could give you these.” His big brown eyes were fixated on her with the longing of a puppy staring after an owner walking away.

“Very kind,” Cullen interrupted with a warning glance, flanking Alyss closely. It wasn’t that he thought the child would be any sort of threat, but he didn’t want to get into yet another conversation of someone assuming he was attached to Alyss. “Now move along.”

The boy threw out his chest in the impressive impudence of his grandiose fifteen and a half years. “And who are you, Serrah, her husband?”

“No,” Cullen told the youth flatly, deliberately looming, “I’m her templar.”

This post has been edited by Cullen on Jun 11 2011, 11:25 AM

Lowtown! That was it! Undertown? Where did she get that from? After taking a few sips of water, Alyss handed the canteen back to Cullen. "Lowtown, 'eh? Can we go down there later? I'm really curious to see what's so different about it compared to Hightown." Come to think of it, why wasn't there a Middletown? You know, where people who weren't of nobility but still had enough to make a living for themselves. This city is so strange... After tossing the peals of her orange and the apple core to the critters who had gathered around them, she followed Cullen's lead and stood.

Alyss stared up at the tall buildings of Hightown as they made their way towards the chantry. She'd never seen buildings so big before. She wondered how they'd manged to build them entirely out of stone. See, if they'd used magic then it would've been a lot easier. Actually, a lot of things would be easier if they just let mages help out every once in a while.

Alyss was pulled from her thoughts when a young man with adorably big brown eyes and a handful of feathers approached her. The boy seemed to fumble over his words slightly as he offered the feathers. A bright, genuine smile spread across her features as she accepted the colorful feathers. "Awh! That's so sweet of you!" She stuck the feathers in the base of her ponytail with practiced ease, adding them to her small collection. She left one out, tucking it behind the boy's ear and giving him a small kiss on the cheek for his effort. She giggled lightly as the boy's turned a peachy pink. Maker, he was adorable.

She stiffened as she heard -- and felt -- Cullen behind her. Silver eyes narrowed into a sharp glare of frustration. Really? He couldn't just let the boy give her the feathers without stepping in? "H-her templar?" the young boy managed, brown eyes darting from Cullen to Alyss. Fists clenched by her sides as she held back the urge to shook a fireball in his face, her annoyance with his behavior finally showing. A few sparks jumped off her hands as if from a flame. Don't do it, don't do it... In the back of her mind, she sensed another presence, whispering for her to burn Cullen to ash. She shook her head, shaking the presence away and taking a deep breath, relaxing her hands. The sparks disappeared. In the safety of her thoughts, she prayed to the Maker that neither the boy nor Cullen had noticed her subtle use of magic.

Cullen felt the touch of the Fade surge up, and actually put a hand on Alyss’ shoulder. He didn’t clamp down and pinch her, threaten to hammer into her skin with a smite, or bruise. Aside from the metal being cold with his underlying body heat because of armor, it was just heavy on her shoulder for a few seconds in acknowledgment of the constant struggle all mages had to deal with every moment of their lives. “Stay strong,” he told her in a very low tone of voice which wasn’t meant to carry past her ears. It might have been mistaken for actual kindness in someone else. Shifting his attention to the young man, he was less harsh as he told the lad, “run along.”

Continuing their stroll up the steps toward the Chantry, his next words didn’t come easily, but civility urged him to say it. “I’m sorry. It’s part of the dictates of the Order to keep you safe, and I went too far. I know the boy posed no threat to either of us.” He’d let personal irritation seep into his duty, and that needed to be banished. Part of it was also sewn directly into what had happened in the Tower, having to watch what Uldred had done to the mages. Those men and women who resisted did not suffer gentle fates, and that had been a failure on the part of the templars to do their duty and keep it from happening. There had been nothing he could do as he’d watched them turn into monsters, but snapping at a mere infatuated child was unconscionable. He'd long ago come to terms with what had happened to him, and learned to live with it. That didn't involve allowing that darkness to swallow him now that he'd finally found a place where he felt he belonged.

“Lowtown isn’t a pleasant place,” he tried to change the uncomfortable subject, “there’s very little to see down there except desperate people.” Along with its share of criminals, although they were less active by day.

Alyss took one last deep breath and, now having tamed her anger, blinked as she noticed the boy had gone. A frown made its way across her features as she thought of how she might have made mages appear to him. Poor thing might not approach a woman like that for a long while. Oh well. There was nothing she could do about it now.

Her calm didn't last long though. Frustration welled up inside her again as they walked up the stairs to the chantry. "If you knew he wasn't a threat, why were you like that, hm? Tired of shepherding a mage who actually wants to talk to people outside of the Circle? He was just a silly little boy, Cullen. Now you've probably scarred him and he'll never do anything sweet like that again." She let out an exasperated sigh, mumbling -- or rather grumbling -- quietly to herself.

She completely missed the last thing he had said as they approached the chantry, staring up at it with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. It was larger than she ever imagined, towering over the other estates in the area. She'd never seen anything that large before, let alone a chantry of such a size. She stumbled slightly as her foot caught the last step, though her eyes never left the giant building. "It's... big." Stopping in front of it at the top of the stairs Alyss craned her neck back to admire the building's grand appearance. They sure wanted to make an impression here. She wondered if this was the only chantry of this size. Maybe it was just in the Free Marches... She'd have to ask about it later. That and twenty billion other things she had lined up.