[Open]

[unharrowed]

WHO: Vasran and OPEN
WHAT: Celebrating being declared a Real Mage, training with her very own staff
WHEN: Late August
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: N/A

In the end, the pseudo-Harrowing endorsed by the Mage Council had turned out to be just like dreaming. Vasran had been prepared for what she was about to face, as well as one could be prepared. To walk in the Fade was to know that nothing could be trusted except one's own mind. And it was the mind that was truly important, because demons could trick the eyes, could distract the senses, could so easily toy with emotions. Logic and will, two things which were so simple and yet so difficult to wield effectively, were the only things that could be counted on.

It was a Desire demon that had tried to take her, offering her comfort and wealth and position enough to take whatever she wanted from a world where everything had once been lost to her. Of all things, it was Vasran's pride that allowed her to refuse the demon's offer.

She would take what she got back from the world on her own terms, and no one else's.

The day after she woke again, she celebrated in the Tavern, a place where she had rarely been seen before, dancing and tossing back as many cups of wine as she could afford — or convince others to pay for. As the evening went on, she got bolder, approaching a few people head-on with her empty cup and shoving it toward them.

"Buy a drink for a demon-slayer!"

In the days after — once the subsequent hangover had subsided — she could be found on the Training Grounds, drilling battle techniques with her staff, sending bursts of electrical energy toward the targets.

Comments

Training Grounds

[nadasharillen]

Recognizing Vasran from her embroidery work in the hall, Nahariel stopped to watch for a bit, eyes squinted against the sun.

"Ho there, lethallan," she called out quietly between salvos, "Let me know if you've ever a mind to have your great deeds carved into the haft of that." Nari wrinkled her nose, remembering how long it had been since she'd been at the pells. "Or if you've a need for some close combat sparring."

It was one of the things she'd worked on with Sina. Magic was all well and good from a distance, but if something got the drop on you?

[unharrowed]

"I might fancy some improvement with a knife." Many mages had an aversion to blades. Vasran was not one of them. The only thing holding her back in that regard was... not being very good with them. Beyond knowing that the pointy end went in the other person.

She planted the butt of her staff in the grass, turning to admire the haft and imagine just what it might look like with some great deeds carved into it. Since she had no doubt she would be performing some, it was worth considering.

"Carved how?" she asked, turning her attention to Nahariel instead. "...is that how you interpret the markings on your faces? Is it a form of writing?"

[nadasharillen]

"I was thinking more of close-combat staffwork--I know a few good tricks for if someone manages to close with you on the field," Nari began, having had the same thoughts about blade-averse mages, "but I'm happy to pass along what little I know about knives."

The elf smiled crookedly. "Truth be told, I'm a better hand at fighting beasts than men, but the same principle holds. Be quick, be clean, be the one who walks away afterwards." And yes. Pointy end goes in the other person.

"For the carving?" she said, frowning slightly in thought, "Figures in relief, most like. Demons being slain by lightning, a beast you think of a totem--something to remind you of times you were strong. Something to look at, or to feel beneath your hands as you fight, when you need to remember that strength. Or something you want to become, to remind you of what you want to achieve.

"As for the vallaslin... it's..." Nahariel frowned again, rubbed the furrow in her brow and nodded slowly. "...ye-es? In a way. I've heard it called blood writing as well--although it's not writing like one might write a letter. At their most basic, they show you which of the Creators that elf has chosen as their patron." She traced the sweeping line of her tattoo with a forefinger. "Mine is for June--the Master of Crafts.

"Beyond that, if you know what you're looking for, you can tell what clan someone's from. And if you're really perceptive, a bit about the elf themselves." The lopsided grin was back. "Or at least how their Keeper saw them."

"So yes," she finished, with a nod, "a form of writing."

[unharrowed]

Vasran continued to admire the staff as Nahariel described the potential carvings. At the same time, she was imagining what 'staffwork' might look like. She'd already seen some in action, courtesy of that newly-arrived rifter. Could be useful.

Her eyes narrowed a little during the description of the vallaslin. Like many in the Inquisition, she'd heard rumors about what exactly they meant, how they were done. The phrase 'blood writing' was not new to her.

"Writing in blood?" Blood mixed in with the ink? Was that how it worked?

[nadasharillen]

"Well..." Nahariel gesticulated vaguely, the subject of their conversation crinkling on her face as her brow furrowed in thought. Her mouth opened and closed several times, lips thinning farther in frustration each time, until finally the elf huffed out a sigh and quirked a grin at Vasran.

"I don't really know," she said, green eyes sparkling with self-aware mirth, "I never thought much more deeply about it than simply meditating on which of the Creators I wanted to honor. I bled some, during. Most everyone does. I guess I thought that's where the name came from." She shifted her stance, lifted her shoulders, let them fall.

"For all that I went through the Rite, I'm no Keeper. I didn't know much more than it was how you became an adult, how you said to your Clan and the Creators--and anyone else you met--that you chose to keep the old ways. That you were the last of the Elvhenan, and never again would you submit."

[unharrowed]

Something in Vasran bristled when Nahariel started going on about the old ways. She worked not to show it, particularly because she didn't quite understand it. It was like being challenged, even if Nari wasn't issuing any challenges in the least. It was that air the Dalish were said to carry around with them, the suspicion of strangers and the protectiveness of their own kind. As if they had something that made them superior.

"Staffwork, you said?" she prompted, wanting something more to do with her hands and arms while they spoke. If Nari needed to use her staff as a demonstration, she would offer it.

[nadasharillen]

Nari saw the way the other elf's facial expression flattened slightly as she spoke, and sighed internally, lips thinning slightly as she tried to judge whether she'd made enough of an alliance with the other woman to try to make a foray into the deep breech that lay between the Dalish and their city-dwelling brethren.

She decided not--at least not yet--and so took the offered out with gratitude.

"Aye," said the hunter, casting her eyes about the practice area and nodding when they lit on a few simple staves leaning on the wall. She moved to retrieve one, gesturing for Vasran to follow. "I can't boast any real skill, but I know a few good counters that might help out if you ever find yourself faced with a dual-wielder like myself." She gave the staff a practice twirl. "I like to pop out of nowhere behind the lines and go for the mages, and I've heard the Red Templar have some similar fighters."

She opened her mouth to continue, and then shut it again, scratching the back of her neck with an apologetic grin. "Before I go trying to teach you what you already know though... did they teach you any mundane staff combat in the Circle?"

[unharrowed]

Vasran shook her head. "It was mostly 'here's how not to blow things up accidentally' and 'don't listen to demons.'"

Perhaps there would have been some staff training once she'd earned the title of Mage, but. Well. She'd never gotten there before.