faderift | [Open] My Hearth Is Yours

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[Open] My Hearth Is Yours

WHO: James Norrington and You
WHAT: Dining with the Commander
WHEN: Throughout Wintermarch
WHERE: The Great Hall
NOTES: Nothing but 'seriously dude, you're hiding something aren't you?'

Even Templars need to eat.

And drink.

Sometimes they have to do a lot of drinking, honestly, but Norrington kept his portions of wine to a reasonable amount when he had it with his supper. He always dined in the main hall, few times with his men, but often times he came in in alone with papers and letters in which he worked upon while he broke meat and bread off and slipped it into his mouth without thinking. His pen never seemed to stop, as he scripted pages and pages of writing -- before tossing some of them aside and grumpily burning others.

Once and awhile, you could catch him with no papers at all, but a book, his head propped up on his hand and his green eyes distant as he read the words on the page and sipped from his glass of wine.

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A joke.

Why was she so bad at understanding humanoid humor? It felt like...oddly enough...some kind of elaborate joke.

Ariadne shook her head, her expression relaxing into something abashed and self-effacing. "Oh," she said, equal parts flustered and embarrassed and amused. "I'm sorry, my lord. I misunderstood."

A pause. "And I don't think I've done anything to earn an honorific. You may call me by my name, if you wish."

He gave her a sheepish smile in turn. "Oh no, I think we both misunderstood there. I am just pleased you are not going to take offense at my jibe all things considered."

He arched an eyebrow, before he drawled, "I would be honored - if I knew the lady's name?"

"No lady," she replied. Although she could pretend it from time to time when needed. "My name is Ariadne, sir." She paused a moment, and then added, "Everdeen. Ariadne Everdeen."

As skilled a liar as she could be, Ariadne actually took pleasure in using Katniss' family name. It felt right to be part of a family again, part of a pack. And since she still wanted to believe that her stay was only temporary, it was best to enjoy it while she could.

Although...there was no harm in taking the name with her when she left.

"Mm. My dear lady, you are a lady to me until you prove yourself otherwise." Is Norrington's wry response. He wonders how many times he'll have to repeat this. Most likely every single time he speaks to a new woman. Everdeen ... why is that name familiar? He can't quite put his finger on it.

"How do you do, Ariande Everdeen? I am James Norrington." He dipped from his waist in a slight bow. "Would you do me the honor of dining with me?"

She smiled slightly. He was just so...polite. Such a courtier. She could well imagine Adriana or Mia drooling over him.

"That's very kind of you, Lord Norrington," she replied.

And she allowed herself a brief nibble on her roll, before turning back to him curiously once more. "Out of curiosity, how does one define a 'lady?'"

There, that was better. Now she was smiling, even if she was still eating rather like a bird. He dipped his head at her in turn, before going to take another bite. He finished chewing as he considered her question.

"A lot of things. Demeanor. Carriage. The way they handle themselves in society at large. You can be a lady if you carry yourself in a way that shows you are competent."

The things he described were all things Ariadne could fake, when needed. But it was a rather curious definition, by her standards. She picked at the roll thoughtfully a moment, trying to decide where that came from.

Titles were so confusing. The Alastrians didn't use them. But then, the Alastrians were nomads...

"I've always thought a lady was someone who was born into nobility," she said.

James tilted his head, before he shook his head at her question. He took another bite, before he spoke quietly.

"That is the traditional sense of the world - but I've learned that a true lady is more than just where she is born. It is how she holds herself, how she expresses her mind and her emotions."

"That's an interesting way of looking at it, Lord Norrington," she said. Again, she was struck by how Aden-like he seemed. That was absolutely something that Princess Amanda's stepson would say.

And it was generous. A bit enlightened really.

She hadn't encountered much enlightenment of that nature in Thedas, so far.

"I find a lady is more defined by how she's treated. That is to say, the noblewomen are granted more respect. Which allows them to be...what they are, I guess."

"I have had a very interesting formal education." Norrington admitted, as he dug into more of the food, feeling his stomach was finally getting towards full.

Enlightenment was something he had a great deal of. In most areas at least.

"Well, think of what all women could be if they were treated with respect." He arched an eyebrow. "I think I can manage that."

"But what about men?" she asked. "Shouldn't they be treated with respect too? At least until they do something that warrants otherwise?"

And even then. But her sunny outlook on mankind, she well knew, was some of a rarity.

He thought about that, "I would like it if we were treated with respect - as long as we actually deserve it. The same applies to women." He quirked up a smile, before he tilted his head at her.

"You are truly interested in being fair to both sides, it seems."

"Well, yes," she said, looking a little baffled that such a thing needed to be pointed out. "Every story has two sides. If you don't learn both of them, then you're missing half of the lesson."

Said the demon who'd been hunted like an animal much of her life.

"Is that strange?"

He quirked up one corner of his mouth, before he nodded his head. "You are quite right. And having both sides of the story does make it easier to have justice served ..."

Which was something he had strived for, that Lydia and Swann had gently implanted in his young, angry brain. It had only really taken twelve years to really understand that, apparently.

"No, not strange. Just ... good. It's good."

She smiled prettily. "Well, I always try to be good," she said. And it wasn't with a hint of irony or sarcasm. Just genuine truth.

Which was just the way that Ariadne preferred to conduct herself, when she could. Ironic for a spy.

Delicately, she nibbled on her bread a little bit more. "May I ask your position in this Inquisition, Lord Norrington?"

"Oh, don't we all." James's was slightly sarcastic, but the look on his face was warm. Seeing the best in people was always a dangerous game - but he did want to believe that people could make amends. Try to do better.

He took another few bites, before answering, "I am a Knight-Commander with the Templar Order, a rank I still hold here in the Inquisition. I'm also training the soldiers on how to deal with abominations, demons, and soon, blood mages."

A hollowness filled the pit of her stomach at the mention of demons. And within the same breath as abominations.

She found herself looking down at her hands. She was only just beginning to get used to seeing them all pinkish and Human-like. She was going to have to stop thinking of herself as a demon. Especially here.

As she turned her palm over, the glint of the Shard flickered up.

"What's a blood mage?" she asked.

James glanced over at her, for she had fallen silent for a moment. He glanced over, and saw the gleam of green against her palm, and then she asked her question.

Ah.

A Rifter, then. So he picked his words carefully, "There are certain mages who use blood in their magic - in fact they primarily use it. Some of them simply cut themselves a little - it's harmful but not overtly dangerous. There are others though - who sacrifice other people to gain power. We call them maelificarium."

The idea of using blood in a spell wasn't entirely foreign to her. Certainly, the Elves back home didn't do anything like that. But the Darucs...well. They believed that magic was tied to blood. Of course, their rituals didn't involve sacrifice or cutting so much as the belief that every action resonated in the blood.

The mountain trolls, on the other hand...

She could only shudder a little. The rumors she heard were dark.

"That's horrible," she said.

He pressed his lips together at that shudder, he had no idea what she was thinking. Still, either way, blood mages should be considered dangerous and she wanted to make sure she knew about them? He would be glad to educate her.

"It absolutely is." He said firmly.

It didn't sound like he was patronizing her. A lot of people took her simplistic views of good and bad and mistook them for a child's opinion.

She was pleased to be taken seriously.

"Are there many of those here?"

Simple does not mean it is basic. It means that she has very clear ideas of what is good, and what is evil. Considering how grey the world is, with good and bad, having firm morals was never a weakness in Norrington's mind.

"There are quite a few, yes."

The answer wasn't surprising. Just disappointing. But Ariadne should have been used to being in proximity to evil.

She frowned a little, turning the thought over in her head. "How do you recognize a blood mage?" she asked.

The scent of blood seemed like a good clue. But her nose could detect what others could not. So what did they use?

James sat up a little more, because this was his field of study as a Templar, outside of military history. He'd actually composed a number of pages on what to recognize with blood mages - patterns he had seen emerging.

"Blood mages, outside of the smell of blood on them, are always going to look wan. Sallow, even. They are constantly hungry - for food, for wine, for just about anything. Sometimes, if they are careless, you will be able to see scars. Their servants will be terrified of them - not just - 'Oh he beats me' but more like, 'I will not move, if I do not move he cannot hurt me'."

She scowled a little, listening. And she couldn't help but think of some of the servants--no, slaves--of the Red Dragon. She knew he wasn't a blood mage, of course. But that terror was still in their eyes. A terror that made her desperate to do...desperate things. Rescuing sort of things.

Suicidal things.

"Is there a way to make a blood mage stop being a blood mage?" she asked.

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