A Break From the Action? [Open]

[Willow]

“Andoral’s Reach?” Willow repeated with a low, impressed whistle. “Orlais, isn’t it? Not to mention the rallying point for the resistance, if some of the tales I’ve heard are right,” she said, careful to keep her voice pinned as low as possible and still have Ember hear her. She didn’t whisper; the sound would carry further than a low murmur would, but it was almost as quiet.

“Not surprised it’s proving tricky, I’ll be honest. Tell you what though; I can get you out of the city. Might even be able to get you a ship to Orlais; Val Chevin or Val Rouyeaux would be the easiest, but probably not the safest for you to land in. One of the smaller towns might be better...” she mused, sitting back and taking another gulp of rum, letting her focus drift for a moment as she went back to her sailing days and the Orlesian ports she knew of that might be easier to smuggle a mage through.

She smiled when Ember gave her brief assessment.

“If it was broken, you’d know about it, trust me. Wouldn’t have gotten two steps, never mind to the bar,” she said with a good-natured grin. “Although, if you can fix those kind of things...” she trailed off, shrugging. How quickly could a mage healer set and mend a broken leg?

Willow broke out of her musings and tensed at the new voice, one hand dropping to the dagger hilt at her waist as she eyed the blonde woman, but she slowly relaxed when the stranger didn’t seem hostile.

“A bit, yeah, but it’s better than nothing; and easier than trying to learn a whole new discipline in a short amount of time,” she said cautiously, but with a small, wary smile to show she wasn’t being argumentative purely for argument’s sake. “Having a staff for a weapon is plausible, at least,” she said with a shrug. She’d seen a few Nevarrans and Rivaini fighters who used them solely for physical combat; people who didn’t have a drop of magic in their veins. They were admittedly very rare, though.

“Who are you, anyway?” She asked the blonde woman, nodding at her in emphasis.

[Terra Ashalle]

Neither girl seemed to have noticed her presence. Both seemed cautious as they peered at her, the red haired one seeming to hesitate before responding. She laughed at her statement. It was true, but Terra wasn't refering the large, obvious item haphazardly hidden under a cloak. The elf knew she shouldn't laugh, really. She was lucky to be able to fight with sword and shield, but even that was a double edged sword - if you don't mind the pun. Her magic was not controlled well and her emotions triggered her earthly abilities. It hadn't happened for some time, but when it did, it was disasterous. Maybe it was better to be able to control your powers, rather than fear them, but Terra only knew her way ment she did not have to fear the Templars, instead. She would be no trapped bird in their gilded cage.

Her hands tightened around the staff and Terra almost thought to apologise. Boy, was she timid. It was cute, actualy. However the ebony haired woman served as a distraction and the elf nodded again, hand raising to call the bartender. She needed another drink. Maybe she was only using the mages distress to forget her own troubles, maybe she was just being a busy body. Either way, it wasn't helping her mood. In a small lapse of conversation, the bartender shuffled over with a grunt and handed her a much welcomed drink. Bring it on.

Who are you anyway? The woman asked and Terra glanced her way, taking a deep glug of the bitter alcohol before wiping her mouth clean. Terra. You? And I suppose its plausable. I just think it would be so much easier if they all learnt how to weild a sword or something. No one would even know they had magic, then. Problem solved. Until they all turned into demons, of corse. Terra was sure she hid her own identity well. Instictivly, she brushed her hair down, ensuring it covered her ears as she leaned over the bar, watching the two woman with a curious, mischevious grin. She didn't mean any harm, but she wasn't always the most subtle of people when she blatently invaded a conversation.

ooc - sorry its so lame ahaha

[Ember Griswald]

Ember wasn't one for confrontation. In fact, she was probably the least confrontational in the whole Ferelden Circle. Much like Irving, she believed in the circle and it what it stood for. She didn't resent the place she called home for so long. Nor did she wish any confrontation with the Templars, even if they were trying to kill her. She had already heard of a few of her friends that had been captured and taken back to the Circle for what they called "Help", when in reality she knew it was someone as scandalous as Tranquility.

Still, Ember couldn't ignore the blonde's ignorance in her last statement. She thought it so easy to learn how to wield a sword when you were raised on a staff her whole life? Like she knew what it was like! The redhead actually thought it was hilarious that someone who wasn't even a mage was giving her advice on how to control her magic! What did she know? She had no idea how capable she was!

All Ember did was take her drink for another sip before calmly responding, not once bothering to look at her. "Don't talk about me as if I'm not right here. Besides, you spend your whole life in the Circle raised on a staff and then see how easy it is to learn to use a sword on your own." She kept her voice calm and relaxed as she slid her staff upright between her legs as her knees held it in place, her cloak still spread across her lap.

Then came the woman's last sentence, which really put a bad lump in Ember's throat. Demons? Was she ignorant to believe that all mages became demons? That none of them had the control to refuse? Ember was one of the first in her age group to go through their Harrowing! She passed her Harrowing! She proved that mages had control, and that she had power over her mind. Strength against even the most evil in the world. "No, we don't all become demons. If you go around thinking that all mages turn into demons and don't have the ability to protect themselves, you must be one scared human being. Believe it or not, there's a lot of who are strong, and don't turn into.... demons...."

[Willow]

“Willow,” she said, leaving Ember to introduce herself if she wished. A runaway mage might not be inclined to give her name to strangers – well, strangers who hadn’t helped her escape from Templars, anyway.

Her eyebrows hitched up and hid behind her hair as the blonde woman – Terra – spoke.

Easier? Easier for the mages, yes – if they all learned how to use the sword from childhood. The older you were, the more difficult it could be. Plus it wasn’t as though there was a steady supply of sword masters willing to tutor apostates so they would be harder to detect in the future. It would also make life for the Templars, and other mage-haters, much harder.

So whose side was this woman on? She hadn’t raised the alarm or attacked Ember, nor seemed particularly hostile, but she wasn’t being that friendly or tactful, either.

Not the smartest move, especially when the person you were indirectly insulting could fry you like a rasher of bacon.

Maybe she just wasn’t used to social situations, but you’d think that self-preservation if nothing else would curb her tongue a little.

Then again, that might just be Willow. She always found herself being just that bit more cautious around mages at first. Old habits spawned by nightmares died hard, after all.

She was pulled out of her musings by Ember’s voice, but rather than speak again, Willow grabbed her glass and took a large gulp of rum, looking away as her eyebrows vanished into her hairline again. She hoped it was a silent but blatant sign to leave her out of it.

Ember may be a nice, soft spoken, possibly naive mage, but at the minute she was a walking – well, sitting – embodiment of ‘tranquil fury’ and Willow wanted no part of the fallout should things end in fireballs and tears.

Not that she disagreed with Ember – to the contrary. She just wasn’t fond of getting into arguments with people who could command the forces of nature and unleash them when they were having a tiff with someone.

Willow caught the barman watching them out of the corner of his narrowed eyes, and gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. No, sir, they weren’t about to start a fight – even in a pirate tavern, they’d be thrown out eventually if they did, and then they’d be back to dodging Templars.

“Ladies, if we could put the barman’s mind at ease again, that’d be great. Getting thrown out isn’t the best of ideas, especially if there’s a few people we’d rather avoid outside,” she said, deciding that was a neutral enough way to intervene. Hoping they would listen, Willow cast about for a new conversation topic, quickly.

“I know where you’re bound, Ember, but what about you? Heading anywhere, or is Denerim it?” She asked, nodding at Terra. Hopefully that would be a nice, safe topic that wouldn’t lead anywhere nasty. Like Ember getting mad or upset.