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9:37 Dragon - Kirkwall
"Quiet down!" barked Ser Esmond, a rough looking man with a few scars on his middle aged face. His scowl didn't improve things, either.
The mages who occupied the library all stiffened visibly as the Templar gave his order, and the once slightly lively chatter died down significantly. Despite living in the Circle since her youth the sharp words still caused Lyana to shrink and keep her amber eyes plastered to the dusty old tome she was reading, though she did cautiously glance over the top of her book to spy the man in question.
A veteran Templar who was feared for his hard words and even harder fists, Ser Esmond's dark glare roamed over the room once more before he turned back to his conversation with Ser Baert, a younger Templar who was a bit less strict and traditional like his superiors. Surely something Esmond and the others would impress upon him in time. Like most of the knights at Kirkwall's Circle, their position gave them an inflated sense of self, and the rumoured addiction to lyrium didn't help temper their attitudes toward the mages. Both of the armoured guards seemed more concerned with carrying on their discussion of a recently made Tranquil mage than actually minding the apprentices, much to Lyana's relief. The dark glee evident in Ser Esmond's voice carried across the room back to Lyana.
"They make my skin crawl!" whispered Fihalda, a redheaded mage seated beside her. Lyana was inclined to agree. The near-constant strict supervision and lack of a proper curriculum created a suffocating atmosphere for the mages living in Kirkwall. With the exception of those training to become Formari like Lyana, the other schools of magic were severely limited.
"Shhh! You know what they did to Aislin last week. Don't test their patience," Lyana cautioned her friend and put her finger up to her plush rosy lips. Fihalda merely snorted and went back to half heartedly pouring over her studies. New apprentices or captured apostates often had a wild streak in them that was quickly snuffed out by the Templars, yet despite the hardships they faced Fihalda was still as fiery as her shock of red curly hair. Lyana admired her for that but also worried about her often as she was the subject of unwanted attention by their lewd superiors. Despite bearing a more slender frame than her freckled companion, and of noble birth, even Lyana was subject to some uncouth whispers she wisely ignored.
With a softened brow, she turned back to her book then and planted her hand against her cheek, pushing aside the characteristic auburn hair of all the Almont women in her family.
The scuff of heavy boots on the stone floor across from her made Lyana break from her reading and look up to see the Templars on guard had walked out into the hall to resume their discussion about the poor mage Aislin. Esmond's wicked grin told her all she needed to know when their words became hushed. Now with a sour taste in her mouth, Lyana took the opportunity to stand up and close her book. Gentle steps that jostled her deep auburn waves carried her to the arched doorway the Templars just passed through.
"Where are you going?" Ser Baert abruptly demanded, looking sidelong at Ser Esmond like he was trying to draw strength from the man when Lyana came out into the hall.
"I have lessons with Enchanter Cedric," Lyana replied. Baert gave her an incredulous look as if he were trying very hard to find a reason to exert his authority. Unable to conjure some imagined slight, he simply waved her off. "Don't dawdle then. Go on," he grumbled back at her, looking a little defeated, before turning to resume his chat with Ser Esmond.
Lyana hurriedly stalked off at his leave. She did have a lesson with Enchanter Cedric but that was not for a while, and the Templars were loathe to dutifully check their subordinates. So in the mean time Lyana intended to enjoy her small taste of freedom by heading to the reagent storage room to gather her supplies for later - in peace. Lacking Ser Esmond's gaze, it felt like a great weight was lifted from her shoulders.[/color]
"Quiet down!" barked Ser Esmond, a rough looking man with a few scars on his middle aged face. His scowl didn't improve things, either.
The mages who occupied the library all stiffened visibly as the Templar gave his order, and the once slightly lively chatter died down significantly. Despite living in the Circle since her youth the sharp words still caused Lyana to shrink and keep her amber eyes plastered to the dusty old tome she was reading, though she did cautiously glance over the top of her book to spy the man in question.
A veteran Templar who was feared for his hard words and even harder fists, Ser Esmond's dark glare roamed over the room once more before he turned back to his conversation with Ser Baert, a younger Templar who was a bit less strict and traditional like his superiors. Surely something Esmond and the others would impress upon him in time. Like most of the knights at Kirkwall's Circle, their position gave them an inflated sense of self, and the rumoured addiction to lyrium didn't help temper their attitudes toward the mages. Both of the armoured guards seemed more concerned with carrying on their discussion of a recently made Tranquil mage than actually minding the apprentices, much to Lyana's relief. The dark glee evident in Ser Esmond's voice carried across the room back to Lyana.
"They make my skin crawl!" whispered Fihalda, a redheaded mage seated beside her. Lyana was inclined to agree. The near-constant strict supervision and lack of a proper curriculum created a suffocating atmosphere for the mages living in Kirkwall. With the exception of those training to become Formari like Lyana, the other schools of magic were severely limited.
"Shhh! You know what they did to Aislin last week. Don't test their patience," Lyana cautioned her friend and put her finger up to her plush rosy lips. Fihalda merely snorted and went back to half heartedly pouring over her studies. New apprentices or captured apostates often had a wild streak in them that was quickly snuffed out by the Templars, yet despite the hardships they faced Fihalda was still as fiery as her shock of red curly hair. Lyana admired her for that but also worried about her often as she was the subject of unwanted attention by their lewd superiors. Despite bearing a more slender frame than her freckled companion, and of noble birth, even Lyana was subject to some uncouth whispers she wisely ignored.
With a softened brow, she turned back to her book then and planted her hand against her cheek, pushing aside the characteristic auburn hair of all the Almont women in her family.
The scuff of heavy boots on the stone floor across from her made Lyana break from her reading and look up to see the Templars on guard had walked out into the hall to resume their discussion about the poor mage Aislin. Esmond's wicked grin told her all she needed to know when their words became hushed. Now with a sour taste in her mouth, Lyana took the opportunity to stand up and close her book. Gentle steps that jostled her deep auburn waves carried her to the arched doorway the Templars just passed through.
"Where are you going?" Ser Baert abruptly demanded, looking sidelong at Ser Esmond like he was trying to draw strength from the man when Lyana came out into the hall.
"I have lessons with Enchanter Cedric," Lyana replied. Baert gave her an incredulous look as if he were trying very hard to find a reason to exert his authority. Unable to conjure some imagined slight, he simply waved her off. "Don't dawdle then. Go on," he grumbled back at her, looking a little defeated, before turning to resume his chat with Ser Esmond.
Lyana hurriedly stalked off at his leave. She did have a lesson with Enchanter Cedric but that was not for a while, and the Templars were loathe to dutifully check their subordinates. So in the mean time Lyana intended to enjoy her small taste of freedom by heading to the reagent storage room to gather her supplies for later - in peace. Lacking Ser Esmond's gaze, it felt like a great weight was lifted from her shoulders.[/color]