[OPEN] Align my heart, my body, my mind

[watchesandlistens]

WHO: Corvo and you!
WHAT: Corvo is starting to settle into Skyhold, and goes to a job interview.
WHEN: Early Harvestmire
WHERE: Around Skyhold
NOTES: Probably gonna be talk about death, killing, etc.

Library

Corvo would not necessarily consider himself a bookish man, but he acknowledges the well of information that can be found within them, and he detests ignorance--in himself, most of all. Slowly, he has begun accepting that whatever drew him to this world does not intend for him to leave any time soon, and thus it would befit him to try to understand more of this Thedas. It's been slow going, at first, because Thedas is so utterly alien to him, completely different from anything he's known before. But he perseveres.

He can be found sitting in the library, hunched over in a corner of the room, a book on his lap, and a piece of parchment next to him. As he reads, he occasionally pauses to jot down a quick note on the paper--questions, phrases, things that he doesn't understand yet, that he will have to find out more about later on.

Feel free to approach him, or if you're close enough and don't look too unwelcoming, he might ask you about one of the things that he doesn't understand.

Training yard

He doesn't just spend his time reading, however. He spends plenty of time in the training area, practicing with his sword and crossbow. While this place is unusual, there's one perk about it--he has a chance to practice his magic without worrying about anyone seeing. Having had several people confirm that no one will be tossing him on a pyre for using his mark, he feels comfortable enough to do it in the open.

While practicing on a dummy with his sword, he holds his hand out, and then there's a sudden blur, and he's behind the dummy, and promptly sticks his sword right in its cloth neck. Practicing with his crossbow, he takes a potato out of a stack of them he had acquired, and throws it in the air. Then he raises his hand up, and a great gust of wind blows up past him, hurtling the potato far into the air. Once the target is an appropriate distance away, he raises his crossbow and sends a bolt into the unfortunate potato.

He doesn't quite smile, but he does look rather satisfied.

Kestrel House

And now, he feels rather nervous. He's never exactly had a good relationship with other assassins, people who killed as a job more than because some people simply had to be killed.

But at the end of the day, killing people was one of his greater skills. The ability to do it quietly, slipping in and out without being seen. The job that he had spent most of his life doing, guarding another's life with steadfast dedication--no. There was a little girl he had already promised to serve. He would not take that job here, not in this strange land with strange people. So assassin, it was. Everyone needs to have a job, after all.

And so it was that he lurked outside of the Kestrel house, hands stiffly held behind his back, as he waited for the man in charge of the guild.

Comments

[watchesandlistens]

He nods as Cassandra recounts what happened to mages--or what used to, really. He knows the vague outline of it, but few of the sources he'd read about mentioned any of the negatives. Cassandra doesn't gloss over them, and he's unsurprised by what she reveals. It's not so different from the Isles, really. Maybe controlling mages is just something that can't be done without a certain cost to it.

"There are attempts. The Abbey--the religious organization of the Isles--disavowed all forms of magic, and persecuted those who used it. Brutally." He glances to the side, lips twisting. It's a conflicting issue, one that perhaps he should spend more time thinking on, to advise Emily. "People suspected of witchcraft are taken by the Overseers, and, ah. Interrogated." He glances meaningfully at Cassandra, a grimace flitting across his face.

"Those found guilty are burned at the stake. But. People with my abilities find the Overseers more of a nuisance than a threat. They are far more of a menace to ordinary citizens, who at best dabble. Trinkets and whatnot." He waves his hand, not expounding on that. Pulling out the bone charms and trying to explain them seemed...a poor idea. "The effectiveness is debatable."

[stabsbooks]

"Disavowed? They would try to bar mages from doing magic at all?" She shakes her head brusquely. "Of course that would not work. Magic is as natural as any other talent. Its use should be controlled, of course, but not forbidden."

Her face changes as he continues, expression going from disapproval to outright horror.

"Burned at the stake..." It's not an expression she's familiar with, but it's all to easy to guess what it might mean. "You cannot mean - burned alive?"

[watchesandlistens]

Natural? He stares at Cassandra for a moment, confused. Then he remembers--it's different here. Mages are born, not given their magic as a literal gift. And while it's not like the Outsider really asked if he wanted that gift, there is still a marked difference between the two. And he hesitates, unsure if he should correct her, or not. Would it be wise, to explain the difference? Would they be harsher on him?

It smacks of politics, something that he had little care for within his own world, let alone a world that he barely understood. He'll have to ask advice from...other sources.

In the meantime, talking about burning people alive is an excellent distraction, and Corvo nods in response to her question. "Yes. If they were dead, it wouldn't make quite the spectacle. And that's what they want. It's a warning to everyone else who would dare stray from the path of the Abbey. 'This could be you'. The Overseers are, ah. Not known for being subtle."

[stabsbooks]

"Ruling through fear," Cassandra says, frowning. "It is far too common here too, I am afraid." But at least the Chantry never went so far as that, even at its most corrupt. She shakes her head. "I am sorry to hear of your troubles."