faderift | The Cult of Andraste

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The Cult of Andraste

WHO: Dorian, Maria, Nerva and Twisted Fate
WHAT: War Table Mission: The Cult of Andraste
WHEN: Forward dated to Haring 5th, over a period of at least 3 days
WHERE: The ruins of the ancient temple of Andraste
NOTES: see original mission outline above, linked in 'what'. likely to involve a lot of violence and bickering and since dorian is here, sass

[Prompt below is for initial meeting / heading out on the quest thread. We can start other threads as we need them for later parts of the mission.]

It came as something of a relief, when Nerva was finally given a mission outside of the castle grounds. Skyhold had been something of a shock, despite her thinking that she had prepared for it. But the way the mages lived and worked here was unnerving, and dangerous, but she and her fellow templars were far outnumbered. Being able to get out into the world, do some real good, was an intoxicating idea. She was even smiling - albeit a small one - as she checked over her equipment and the gear they would require for the journey. She'd come to the gates early, just to make sure she had a good idea of everything that would be needed, what they were missing, and what would have to be done without. It was little more than a glorified scouting mission, but for Nerva, an important one. The loss of her connection to the Chantry had been a heavy blow, and anything she could do to help restore some of that connection, even if only for herself...

Well. She would gladly do it.

So she was far more devoted to the mission than mere duty necessitated.

However, that was very likely to change, once she found out exactly who was on the mission with her...

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"You need your sleep," was her only reply to the concerned comment. Of course she was concerned. Mages who were not taking care of themselves - who were exhausted or malnourished - would be more susceptible to demonic possession.

It was a very focused, if broad, concern.

She made a low sound which wasn't quite a disgusted noise - but wasn't exactly a good one either. Noncommital, was probably the most accurate word.

"Inform me if you require assistance," She finally said, frowning. Maps certainly would be useful, even if they could never return here, but she felt vaguely uncomfortable with leaving the entire task to a mage. She had not brought her own small sketch book, as it was personal and she hadn't wished to potentially lose it, but she regretted that decision now.

"Oh, I assure you, I will. Creators know I need my beauty sleep and all that." A chuckle is supplied, for good measure.

The next statement makes him raise a brow. "Doubtful, but thank you. I've been doing this sort of thing on my own for awhile."

He pauses a moment, his eyes drawn to the arrowhead in his hand, then he pockets it swiftly with a small frown to himself before he relaxes his expression.

"Still, I keep in mind," the elf murmurs. "Best left out of mage hands or elf hands or both?"

"Both." It was unclear if she was joking, as it was delivered in the same flat, firm tone as everything else, but then she qualified: "And in case you should perish. It would be a pity to have your death ruin your - for once - actually productive contribution."

Okay now she was probably definitely joking.

Maybe?

Or not.

She frowned. "I draw myself, but I admit I have not turned to map making."

Usually, he has a good sense of timing and determination when someone is joking with him, regardless of how dry they're being. Only, with Nerva, he can't actually tell, and that's unnerving.

No pun intended.

But he sort of wishes he said it now. Would puns anger her? Probably. She certainly didn't seem to enjoy his wordplay on the way over.

"You have a hobby? Alarming. What do you draw?"

Her eyes narrowed, attempting to assess whether or not he was making fun of her merely by asking the question. The 'Alarming' was certainly mocking, but she had opened herself up to the questioning, and thus it was her fault that the conversation had gone in this direction whatsoever.

So instead of looking angry she instead looking vaguely uncomfortable.

"... Masks." She replied eventually, after far too long a pause just looking at him. "I draw, and sometimes craft, masks. Is it so surprising?"

The expression is curious one, and he observes her body language. Whether or not she had a sense of humor is irrelevant, not when she expresses something else.

Discomfort. Not much for sharing, is she? Well, much less with him.

"Suppose I had a hard time imagining you doing anything other than stand behind people with clear disapproval written all over your face and telling them what to do," he says, somewhat teasing. "What about masks do you enjoy? Or is it an Orlesian thing -- difficult to tell, sometimes."

She let out a small, derisive snort to the first half, but then he continued with a question.There were many answers to it - some Nerva was aware of, some she wasn't, and few of them were anything she was comfortable with sharing. But then, she wasn't comfortable with sharing anything.

She quickly weighed the costs and benefits of admitting anything about herself, but in the end decided that if allowing this harmless train of questioning meant that he would think twice before openly mocking her again (unlikely), it was worth the attempt. So she let a breath out of her nose and turned her attention to the fire. "It is - as you say - an Orlesian 'thing'. But I do enjoy them beyond necessity. Templars do not wear masks - at least, not in my circle." There was a pause. Her circle didn't exist anymore, and that made her feel slightly queasy, but she continued on. "It allows for a productive distraction, from my daily duties."

She looked back at him, the suspicion creeping back into her expression. "Why?"

Distraction instead of mere enjoyment. That sounds like a very Nerva-ish answer to him indeed; for him, most of his activities are for pleasure and fun, the sake of enjoyment. Life is far less fulfilling that way, but everyone has their own perspectives. Whatever drives Nerva is some sort of odd duty-based matter.

How boring. Not surprising, though.

"Blackmail, of course!" It occurs to him that she probably can't tell that it was spoken in jest, so he says, "Kidding, naturally. I'm asking out of simple curiosity. I was a little surprised, I suppose."

He shrugs. "Should you like, I can give you paper. If you're ever bored, anyway. I imagine this venture won't be very exciting for anyone, and I'm never one to turn my nose up at someone else's hobbies."

She frowned at him, her brows furrowing even deeper. The joke had actually been closer to the answer she expected, in all truth. Her circle, while thankfully free of many of the abuses found in other places, had been a cold one. She had kept her distance, and the mages had kept theirs, and that was the end of it.

She hadn't even really gotten along with the majority of the Templars.

"Why are you being kind to me?" She finally asked, point blank, because there was no point beating around the bush. "If you think it will relax my Vigil---" Even as she suggested it she hesitated. But in the end, he was a Mage, and the likelihood of him being kind without cause was incredibly small.

The only people she knew who ever did that, were of the Chantry.

"Because you have not been that rude currently. I'm not incapable of being kind in return, even if we both have different motivations. Besides, it's funnier when you're angry if we're at Skyhold instead of the middle of nowhere; my body would be much easier to find with the Inquisition than off a cliff."

There's a pause, then he says, "That... part was a joke. I'm pretty sure you wouldn't kill me unless I did something to warrant it."

Though he certainly doubts she would protect him from danger, either. But that's easier to trust than someone with intent to kill.

"I would kill you only if you turned into an Abomination," She replied, with a firm look. "If that is what you mean by 'warrant it'."

She doesn't think 'or betray the inquisition', because it still hasn't really sunk in yet, that she is a soldier now, and not a templar. That her duties aren't solely to protect the mages, and protect the world from the mages. So betrayal doesn't occur to her, in the moment.

"Though I will not hesitate to reprimand you if you do something stupid."

"Well, then it's fortunate that won't be happening anytime soon. Lucky for both of us, eh?"

That's something he feels he has full confidence in. Not that demons haven't tried to tempt him before, but he considers himself someone with excellent willpower in regard to that matter.

Fate just chuckles at that. "Oh, and I would expect no less of you, Nerva. Stern gaze and all. In the meanwhile, my offer to you for paper remains, should you like."

"I trust that means that you intend to remain vigilant."

Not just in the not being tempted, but also in sleeping and eating regularly.

She frowns again, still uncertain, but finally only says: "... I would, thank you." She could use the distraction, even if she would be self conscious about it, here.

"I'm a grown man who knows how to take care of himself. Been doing it quite awhile. If it makes you feel better, I'll even eat my vegetables."

At the confirmation, he flips through a few pages before gently tearing them out. The paper is then held out to Nerva.

"Happy drawing, hm?"

She doesn't reply to the first part, just giving him a look that was one part annoyed and three parts exasperated, but at least he's being civil.

Carefully - almost delicately - she takes the paper and holds the pieces together in her lap, before offering him a nod.

"Thank you." She says again. See? She can be polite too. Sort of.

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The Cult of Andraste

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