[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

[circleprodigy]

Garahel likes it just fine, but then he likes rolling around in mud just fine, too. Intelligent though they are, no one said mabari have refined tastes. Magically-bred or not, they're still dogs.

Inessa raises an eyebrow at mention of being burned at the stake, but it's rude to ask her own questions before attempting to answer his own. "No, not quite. My Circle tower faced a rebellion of sorts, during the Fifth Blight, but it was quickly ended and not widespread. And it was nothing to be commended or imitated." Her lips form a thin line and her eyes darken briefly, not especially fond of that moment in time. "Before the Mage-Templar War, mages desiring freedom strove to escape, but not all together. Sometimes, it probably worked. But more often than not, Templars tracked the mage down and brought them back or killed them, if they provided resistance. They take a bit of blood from every mage who enters the Circle, making into a phylactery. With this, they can track down any mages who escaped. I'm told that during the rebellion at the White Spire, a great deal of senior mages' phylacteries were destroyed and that it what encouraged their bit for freedom.

...burned at the stake, truly? That was the fate of all mages in your world?"

[watchesandlistens]

Corvo listens as Inessa speaks, hands folded together, staring at her with a quiet intensity. A phylactery sounded...dangerous. Though of little use within his world--once the Overseers got their hands on someone, they weren't worried about the person escaping. Still, though. While the Circles were a step up from being killed, they also sounded...inhibiting. He shakes his head with a sigh. Little point to fretting over an opinion on something that holds no sway over him.

"Yes," He said, in response to Inessa's question. "those of us the Overseers could catch, at least. Unfortunately, it was more common for them to catch ordinary civilians who merely dabbled. Made charms, and whatnot. That was just as illegal as true magic, and those with the gift are a great deal harder to catch than someone who just wanted to make a charm to protect themselves from sickness." He shrugs.

"I'm relieved that I don't have to hide it here. Though, it's...still nerve wracking, on occasion." It's hard to lose that wariness, once acquired.

[circleprodigy]

"I think I understand. Mages are not well-loved, though I must say the Inquisition is more tolerant than anywhere I've seen outside Nevarra or the Grey Wardens. Perhaps it is a sign of things to come, if mages are seen as aiding in Corypheus' defeat." Her tone is one of cautious optimism, wanting to hope for that but not willing to lose sight of a more realistic outcome.

"Why are mages killed? Are they susceptible to possession as well? What about their powers makes them so feared?" Not that such is a good excuse for wasting the Maker's gift, in her mind, but Inessa knows it's not beyond the thought of some.