WHO: Gilia St. Low & YOU! WHAT: One Girls Quest To Be Absolutely Unnoticable: The Beginning. WHEN: From [gestures] to [gestures further along] WHERE: The Gallows, Kirkwall NOTES: None forseen, save for social anxiety and occasional eldritch horror.
"Gilia," he echoes, nodding. "You may." Her introduction says a great deal, a place within a family and a family name that sounds like it holds weight if they're using saint names. Letting her see the size of his head gives him a few moments to actually think. She doesn't have to be a mage to have a spirit lingering near her. That's the situation he's most used to feeling that in, but Rifters are part of the Fade themselves. Maybe something especially curious had attached itself to her. Or maybe she's pure spirit herself, he's sensing her instead of another, but that's not what he thinks he feels. This is like... like when he realized Bruce was a functioning abomination.
"I'm a mage," Anders finally says. He doesn't have enough information to go off of, and one of the last things he wants to do is set off a panic about a Rifter. He holds out a hand to the side and pulls up creation magic, letting it glow green-blue around his hand, warm and bright. "A healer, specifically. I asked because I got a sense of something from you, something I'd felt off another mage before."
That should be safe enough, gentle enough. He doesn't want her to feel threatened - his cat is right here.
She leans across - and she is for her dedicated task of not seeming very big, quite tall, and it brings her even to him. Gently wrapping the reed around the crown of his head, pulling it a little tighter. The eye of someone who knows how to measure very well for her task, as she pinches a mark into the dry material to mark it for herself. Then brings it back down to her lap, and starts taking more reeds, to begin weaving them into a wreath.
Though his hands, she eyes curiously. Blinking in surprise as the light illuminates his fingers, - she hadn't seen it, herself. The thing everyone called here magic. That seemed to cause so much of a problem. That - she took, not as something you are born, but simply, a choice you made, and one that only made things better.
But to that - "Oh, no, I cannot do anything like that. Is that what the spirits here give you? Is that why people are so - " and at least she has the sense to look around, and lower her head, cautious of what the Medicine Seller had said to her, about not speaking too freely of such matters. " - so fearful of them?"
He lets the magic go, shaking his head. There'd been a Templar recruit, a few of them, possessed and holding human shape for a short time, but that had taken work and blood magic and hiding away. He doesn't think it's something that could be done to a Rifter in Kirkwall. There's few enough of them they'd be noticed missing.
"No. Magic doesn't come from the spirits. ...Rather, most magic doesn't." His voice isn't loud, it won't carry, but it's not altogether quiet. Everyone around would know what it means when a person is in robes and carrying a staff, after all, and they're close enough to the Inquisition forces he feels not too alone.
"Mages are born with a connection to the Fade, where the spirits live. I've a boost, additional strength in healing, thanks to a spirit I work with. Mercy. But a majority of mages don't partner with spirits. There's a risk of going too far. Of letting one in. When that happens it's a disaster for all involved. But spirits on their own aren't beings to be fearful of."
Has she been treated with fear? He doesn't think people outside those in Kirkwall and in command of the Inquisition know about Rifters being somewhat akin to spirits, but when even a few dozen know a secret there will be leaks.
"Have you been threatened, Gilia?" That's the priority, if someone is threatening Rifters. Then he can try to carefully figure out more of what he's feeling.
He is saying things - things that make sense and don't, that are so against almost everything she has learned. Everything she knew about the world. Everything she held as sacred. Everything she was. Her hands slow in their work, for once something crossing her gaze that is not that pleasant and perfected mildness. Eyes going a little bit wide.
"Why on earth would a spirit ever do such a thing?" As for fearful - "No, no one has ever treated me unkindly. They have been good and respectful. I want for nothing." But there is one fatal flaw to that statement, even if someone was, she was not the sort of young woman to ever admit a problem.
At least she's not being threatened, but the wideness of her eyes says she's not comfortable.
"Some spirits want more. Most don't." Maybe that will allay some of her fears. "You're not a mage, and I've heard no cases of Rifters being possessed, so it's not likely to happen to you."
There's a short beat as he considers where to go from here. "You've... a sense of a spirit to you, so you may be even more protected." Or already possessed.
That at least finally makes sense to her. She presses her lips together. Eyes bright as she slides over to him, then back out to the ocean, grey and troubled, that hugs the Gallows. In many ways, that alone reminds her of her home. For the sea there was often the same grey frothed with white.
To that, there is a simple response. "Oh - perhaps you feel my Father-Sea?"
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"I'm a mage," Anders finally says. He doesn't have enough information to go off of, and one of the last things he wants to do is set off a panic about a Rifter. He holds out a hand to the side and pulls up creation magic, letting it glow green-blue around his hand, warm and bright. "A healer, specifically. I asked because I got a sense of something from you, something I'd felt off another mage before."
That should be safe enough, gentle enough. He doesn't want her to feel threatened - his cat is right here.
no subject
Though his hands, she eyes curiously. Blinking in surprise as the light illuminates his fingers, - she hadn't seen it, herself. The thing everyone called here magic. That seemed to cause so much of a problem. That - she took, not as something you are born, but simply, a choice you made, and one that only made things better.
But to that - "Oh, no, I cannot do anything like that. Is that what the spirits here give you? Is that why people are so - " and at least she has the sense to look around, and lower her head, cautious of what the Medicine Seller had said to her, about not speaking too freely of such matters. " - so fearful of them?"
no subject
"No. Magic doesn't come from the spirits. ...Rather, most magic doesn't." His voice isn't loud, it won't carry, but it's not altogether quiet. Everyone around would know what it means when a person is in robes and carrying a staff, after all, and they're close enough to the Inquisition forces he feels not too alone.
"Mages are born with a connection to the Fade, where the spirits live. I've a boost, additional strength in healing, thanks to a spirit I work with. Mercy. But a majority of mages don't partner with spirits. There's a risk of going too far. Of letting one in. When that happens it's a disaster for all involved. But spirits on their own aren't beings to be fearful of."
Has she been treated with fear? He doesn't think people outside those in Kirkwall and in command of the Inquisition know about Rifters being somewhat akin to spirits, but when even a few dozen know a secret there will be leaks.
"Have you been threatened, Gilia?" That's the priority, if someone is threatening Rifters. Then he can try to carefully figure out more of what he's feeling.
no subject
"Why on earth would a spirit ever do such a thing?" As for fearful - "No, no one has ever treated me unkindly. They have been good and respectful. I want for nothing." But there is one fatal flaw to that statement, even if someone was, she was not the sort of young woman to ever admit a problem.
no subject
"Some spirits want more. Most don't." Maybe that will allay some of her fears. "You're not a mage, and I've heard no cases of Rifters being possessed, so it's not likely to happen to you."
There's a short beat as he considers where to go from here. "You've... a sense of a spirit to you, so you may be even more protected." Or already possessed.
no subject
To that, there is a simple response. "Oh - perhaps you feel my Father-Sea?"