WARDEN MAHARIEL

HARMONY HAS LEARNED VERY QUICKLY that there is no shortage of entertainment in Yesteryear. And she has made it a point to try everything it has to offer - including the rodeo. Which is something she was convinced wasn’t real. Tucker continuously saying ‘this ain't my first rodeo’ wasn’t enough to change her opinion , either. The only problem with the rodeo? Horses were one of the main events. The worst animal in the world , and for some reason there’s a whole . . thing surrounding them. Just this once , however , she was willing to face her fears. She enters the horse-riding area , walking up to one of the horses with its handler.

BUT THIS IS NO ORDINARY HORSE. The animal , if you can even call it that , that she’s standing face to face with looks like it crawled straight out of hell just to drag her back down with it. Time feels like it stops for an eternity , and she freezes in pure , unadulterated horror. When it seems that things can’t get any worse ── she screams. A blood curdling , horror movie , i-just-got-stabbed-and-i’m-dying scream.

After paying the fee, and spending who knows how long dragon wrangling to feel something, the elf had decided to actually go check out the main event. The freak 'horses' that could easily dwarf her actually had a better temper than she was expecting. Hell, she actually got up onto one for a few minutes !

Eolas had her fun, the wild urge to run into the forest and never return temporarily sated. Now all she had to do was go and find a- What the Hell was that.

The commander whipped her head around, and only saw a beastie in front of her as a blonde dashed behind her. In any other situation, she'd have drawn her sword from her back and taken a protective stance out of instinct ! But she still had no sword, and so her awkward reach behind once again made her red in the ears.

Routine, routine was what she needed. Routine and familiarity to stave off the urge to scale that damn observatory wall and shake that mage by his ankles. And what better routine to fall back into than the good old rising just before dawn and just, walking. Eolas ended up making the almost 3 hour trek to Glacier's Peak on foot just to find herself on Rook's stoop.

Well, they're the one that gave the commander a key...

The elf made a beeline for the kitchen, and stood with her hands on her hips for several minutes trying to figure out how to light the stove. Why was Rook keeping rocks where wood should go ? ...Actually no, that sounds like something Rook would do. From what she knows about the younger warden, it seemed totally within character for her to resource hoard... Hell, Eolas had the same habit. Well, there goes the breakfast idea.

Idea two! The commander didn't bother to knock on the bedroom door, or even really announce her presence at all. She just walked in and flicked the light on.

Rook is dead to the world. The Dread Wolf himself could not persuade her to get out from under the covers, and believe her he has tried once or twice in the past. It is cold outside and the sun is barely up and her bed is comfortable and she is going to remain unconscious for an additional eight hours if it kills her, because the last eight just wasn't enough. Intruder? Ignored. The flinging on of the lights will not sway her, even if it does briefly wake her, and one eye cracks open to assess the situation and place it accordingly on a scale of holy shit darkspawn invasion to... well, anything less than that.

It is not a darkspawn invasion. It's just the Warden-Commander. Their head returns to the pillow with an eloquent sound akin to that of a slowly dying bear.

...Wait, it's the Warden-Commander.

" You gave me a key, da'len. "

The commander gave Rook a once over, and once she was pleased with the knowledge that they were lucid enough to comprehend words, Eolas cleared her throat.

Either way, Eolas rested her hands on her knees for a moment to catch her breath before actually opening the door, still obstinate about the elevator up to her residence. She would rather take the stairs and deal with the aftermath than willingly close herself in that metal death box. The door opens and-

Maker's Balls how many scrappy looking kids does that mage need !? " Hello.. " The elf tilts her head to the side, halfway between caution and curiosity, ears twitching. She knew Mabel had disappeared a time ago, it drove her to a few worry filled sleeps. ( ones she didn't even think she had the capacity to have, really. )

And now there's a new one in the room, a bit older, though still young enough to make the warden add another tally to her marks against the magician, and dressed a little closer to the era she was familiar with. Perhaps some sort of chantry monk ? The haircut and the prayer(?) she seemed to have caught him in surely aided that theory.

" No no, that certainly wasn't you. There was a young lady that stayed here for a time, with an affinity for such materials. I am still finding it in my own room, gods knows how it got there. "

Eolas eyed the glitter like it was personally wronged her and like it was an old friend all at once. She did miss the kid, actually. Mabel was loud, and very high energy, but she kept the silence away. Silence never meant anything good.

Especially a stranger that has come to take the place of another. He understands that in some way, too.

"In that case, I'm sorry that she left. But she certainly made her mark on the place, didn't she?" His newfound roommate's clear disdain for it makes Obi-Wan smile all the more. He's dealt with odder eccentricities, when it comes to living spaces. Finally, he rises to his feet and sharply brushes glitter off the legs of his pants ( ineffectively ) before bowing towards her. "I will try not to disturb you, but you needn't worry. Settling is... not often my way of things, either. We'll have no arguments over the decorations, at the very least," he teases wryly. The quarters really are very barren.

It makes sense for a woman who claims to be on the move more often than not. He understands. The Temple was home and always would be, but he and Master Qui-Gon were never there for more than months at a time, if that, especially once Obi-Wan had advanced to the rank of a senior Padawan. He suspects that he and Anakin will be spending a great deal more time there, now, though - the boy has much to learn and adjust to before the two of them take off on missions across the galaxy.

...Whenever Obi-Wan manages to return.

" Honestly, I think I would more prefer it if you did 'disturb' me. I am more used to noise than I am silence. "

The ruckus of the dining hall in Amaranthine, the campfire chatter in any warden camp, hell, even the unfortunate whimper or cry from the junior warden's barracks during twilight hours often filled the dreaded silence. It's funny, 20 years ago, the elf would've begged for the quiet. The solitude. It was easier to hunt that way, easier to stay hidden in the foliage...

Then again, there was a startling lack of whispers in her head back then. Eolas shook herself from her thoughts and managed to actually catch his introduction, easing her shoulders a bit. The least she could do is soften up and return the damn smile.

Character Name: Eolas Mahariel

Item being purchased: Personal Item (Benign) - Preserved Rose Amulet

Cost of each item: 350

As you approach the counter, the employee barely glances up from it's phone - instead it disappears into a back room before coming back with your item of choice: PERSONAL ITEM (BENIGN: PRESERVED ROSE AMULET) and places them onto the counter.

You'd best be careful talking like that in public. Most people don't take too kindly to ill will against the Magician. And oh, yeah, don't forget to remove 350 Embers from your tracker.

She's not heard the voices in weeks. It's weird. She doesn't know if she likes it, actually..

There is, after all, a dead man walking the streets now.

[ hereandtheirin ] → I wouldn't send a team that small out for anything past scouting though. Especially that young.

( no the fuck she does not. )

Still, it is better that they are together than apart.

She's not heard the voices in weeks. It's weird. She doesn't know if she likes it, actually..

[ hereandtheirin ] → Talent for what. Robotics ?

( no the fuck she does not. )

[ hereandtheirin ] → Talent for what. Robotics ?

Except it was something, it was a good twenty years in the past. By the time she actually got to The Spine's door, she was embarrassingly bent at the knees and trying to mask her short breaths.

" Hey- Mythal'enaste this is an obnoxiously tall building ! " Eolas tilted her face directly up with a breath before straightening out. There, normal. Not red in the face or anything.

GOOD GOD. SHE DID WALK UP ALL OF THOSE STAIRS. With how tall these buildings are , that would be challenge enough for a robot , let alone a . . well , not a human , but human - enough. He wasn't even sure his knees would be able to handle that many flights of stairs without giving up on him. Now , he was the master of giving unsolicited advice , but she was in his house and she didn't hesitate to draw a nonexistent sword on him. He wasn't going to risk saying anything just yet.

Gods, is this how Wynne felt when the Eolas of twenty years ago scaled cliff sides and just, expected her traveling party to follow her ? " I haven't keeled over yet since I got here and I am taking that as a personal accomplishment. "

She's come close. Very, very close... The warden rolled her shoulders back and rested an elbow on her knee. " So, this... Captcha thing. What uh- " Eolas didn't want to sound like an idiot, she really didn't ! But this whole place made her feel like she was speaking common to a halla and expecting it to understand and respond. " The hell is that ? "

She'd given up on trying to remain ignorant about these things around week two in this place, swallowing her stubbornness down for the sake of figuring out that repeater thing.

Obi-Wan feels as though he is walking blind. He has not felt this cut off from the Force since... well, he has never felt this cut off from the Force.

It is terrible and everything is wrong.

He catches a taxi to a city that looks both very much similar to and yet nothing like Coruscant. He steps into a nigh-empty apartment, neatly furnished but with barren shelves. The carpet is covered in a thin dusting of glitter. Their housing sports two bedrooms, both nigh-identical, and a circular chamber in the middle of the building that Obi-Wan cannot begin to guess the purpose of.

There are a million things he should be doing. There is a nine year old boy a galaxy away who needs him, duties he cannot afford to shirk; he needs a strategy, needs to get off-world, but he is navigating without a map and every last one of his instincts have failed him. How can he possibly hope to plan his next step when—

Ah. There it is. Obi-Wan is not so far removed from his Apprenticeship that the wisdom that was drilled into his impressionable mind for well over a decade has fled from his memory. His Master would have been thrilled: there is no future to plan for, is there? There is only the moment. It's the only thing Obi-Wan can control.

It's a bitter pill to swallow. Injustice and helplessness to stop it. Circumstances beyond your control. It's the exact sort of thing he was trained to release, but before, the Force was always there to catch the emotions Obi-Wan surrendered. He, frankly, doesn't know where they'll wind up now, but that doesn't stop him from kneeling on the shimmering carpet (he'll be brushing glitter off his robe for days, he fears) and resting his palms on his knees. He closes his eyes.

It doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel good. Honestly, he's not even sure it helps. He has never been more displeased to meditate. Whatever he's looking for, acceptance or otherwise, remains tauntingly out of reach. It's, frankly, a relief when he hears the door to the apartment open; Obi-Wan cracks one eye open to peer at the visitor (which is likely either an intruder or the being he will be sharing quarters with, if such a being exists - the place looks so remarkably un-lived in that he isn't certain).

Either way, Eolas rested her hands on her knees for a moment to catch her breath before actually opening the door, still obstinate about the elevator up to her residence. She would rather take the stairs and deal with the aftermath than willingly close herself in that metal death box. The door opens and-

Maker's Balls how many scrappy looking kids does that mage need !? " Hello.. " The elf tilts her head to the side, halfway between caution and curiosity, ears twitching. She knew Mabel had disappeared a time ago, it drove her to a few worry filled sleeps. ( ones she didn't even think she had the capacity to have, really. )

And now there's a new one in the room, a bit older, though still young enough to make the warden add another tally to her marks against the magician, and dressed a little closer to the era she was familiar with. Perhaps some sort of chantry monk ? The haircut and the prayer(?) she seemed to have caught him in surely aided that theory.

" No no, that certainly wasn't you. There was a young lady that stayed here for a time, with an affinity for such materials. I am still finding it in my own room, gods knows how it got there. "

Eolas eyed the glitter like it was personally wronged her and like it was an old friend all at once. She did miss the kid, actually. Mabel was loud, and very high energy, but she kept the silence away. Silence never meant anything good.

Violence. Violence is what she could ask for, and she found it in the form of those strange ghosts in the Arena she can go absolutely primal on when she needed to block out the dread that may as well be tattooed onto her soul. Back home, it took the form of training young wardens, sparring with her husband, or driving her blade through the head of a hurlock while scouting the deep roads for a good future resting place ( Assuming she'd even get to rest in peace. Knowing some of what she's been told about 'the archdemon wardens', they won't even let her do that.... )

But those strange ghosts only provide so much. It wasn't long before this old elf decided she needed a proper fight, preferably one that doesn't start and end in a bar with broken glass in her boots.

" You think, do you ? " Her first thought was along the lines of ' who lost their greasy son in the dog fight ring ? ' but she returned his glances with arms crossed over her chest. He was obnoxiously big, both in height and gain, and for the love of god would someone come and teach him how to button his shirt ! More than half of him was exposed to any sneaky fucker with a small blade.

This'll be quick, he thinks, even if he kind of hopes to be proven wrong. He's been itching for a challenge all day.

"Huh. Alright, then." A lackadaisical shrug, and he moseys on over to the assortment of weaponry. There's no putting on a show as he deliberates over what he wants; he goes straight for a two-handed broadsword, testing its weight and giving it a couple of swings before glancing back at her, his look one of inquiry, even if the grin on his face is distinctly challenging.

Despite his bravado though, the kid seemed competent, he'd certainly give Eolas a proper work out if anything. She eyed him as he deliberated over weapons, and the grin that crept onto her face as soon as he picked up that broadsword was almost maniacal.

Poor fucker. " Son, hold back on me and I will know. " The commander eyed over the rack until she found her choice. It wasn't her Dragon Brand by any stretch, but it was still a greatsword. Eolas picked the blade up with maybe too much ease, and contemplated if she wanted to hold the thing fairly with both her hands or not...