SAPPHIRE EYES.

But then Caleb thinks of the fear that follows him everywhere, of the panic that swells in his chest at the slightest possibility of his mentor sending people after him, of the anxiety triggered by anything that comes too close to old memories, nauseating and crippling, and he wonders if there is a chance of ever leaving, completely. A little like Behni's words express, perhaps; flinching at the echoes of old threats, afraid of pursuers, of it all being a test. "I have feared the same," he admits, uncertain, yet prompted by unlikely companionship. Maybe he did leave the tower, but maybe parts of it would be taken with him, no matter where he went. "The fear that it is all an elaborate test. That there is — no real escape."

It feels like as much as he can say out loud, without an admission that there is no mending the most broken parts of him that he would rather not share with one who welcomed him more openly than he ought to. Behni is kind. Kinder company than he deserves, surely, but he is selfish and willing to take it anyway. For as long as he can. It does not surprise Caleb, in a way, that the other had tried to behave; reassuring another comes easier than forgiving his own flaws. "No, not foolish. You believed what they told you. I was the same." In worse ways. He fidgets with the smooth rock he had taken to carrying in his pocket, keeping his fingers busy with something that is not the scars on his forearms. "I obeyed. Believed in my homeland, and in doing whatever was required for its greatness."

The fear that that it is an elaborate test- that there is no real escape. It had certainly been on his mind. What if now that Duncan was gone, the Chantry would see him as nothing more than an apostate? No one to lead him, to reign him in if he was acting unseemly. The Wardens acted outside of the natural order of things, and from his understanding was one of the few ways an elf, a mage, a casteless dwarf, a seemingly unredeemed criminal...could be made equal to the common man. What a world they lived in where a mage could only be trusted on their own if they lived as lawlessly as those they condemned inside the Circles.

And that was where his fear stemmed from. Would the Templars come after him once they received word of him handling things on his own? Blight or no, the Chantry tended to act in unforgiving ways...and with his past transgressions regarding Jowan...

"I don't think that's very foolish of you. You're a very intelligent and resourceful man, from what I know of the Imperium, you would have thrived amongst their likes." Though, it would be a very difficult battle, in a magocracy such as Tevinter, it was every mage for themself, and damned were you if you came not from a noble house. It seems things were the same everywhere. Nobility ever had the advantage in life. He was lucky to have been brought under such tutelage, though he knew such a thing...if this magister had seen such potential in him, he was either quite the talented mage, or his teacher had been an utter fool. He couldn't find himself favoring the latter. From what little he'd observed of Caleb in combat, he had been an apt fighter. Much more than he himself had been trained in, anyways. It had made sense, the Tevene prided themselves on magic, while Ferelden swore by their Chantry and used magic "only as it served man." If a mage was competent enough to survive on their own...you'd have much more mages confident in escaping their circles.

"...Mage aside, had the chantry deigned to allow an elf inside the royal halls as anything other than a "servant," I'm sure heads would be spinning across the land. Ferelden is perhaps, the safest place for an elf to reside...but it is still no paradise. My years in the circle had perhaps...deafened my senses to such things. One of the benefits, I suppose, when you are considered nothing more than your magic. You hear far more insults about how easy to corrupt you are rather than how you look..."

He quiets for a moment, realizing he is rambling about something that perhaps might be beyond the other. And for that, he shoots Caleb an apologetic glance. Still, he can't help but allow one inquiry to pass his lips.

of course, she understands his meaning – although, he might reasonably assume she hasn't when the invisible barrier that separates their nations also draws lines in their approach to the trade tongue, hers still carrying lilt that lifts every syllable & flows through like a sing-song, his more grounded, suited to the mash & unseasoned meat of this place – but that hardly stops her from the verbal course correction. all things must be just so.

❝       have you perhaps considered familiarising yourself with our maps? might just resolve some of those mysteries for you.       ❞ oh, she's playing coy, a small smile on her lips, but the glint in her eye gives the game away. alas, fun & entertainment must come at someone's expense out here, & it won't be hers, not without a few more gold-glimmering royals lining her pockets.

Oh. So now she wants to have a mouth about it? After she'd fussed for so very long over him needing to make sense of their route, now he was being doubted! As if he hadn't poured half his waking hours into studying the land..! He cannot help but narrow his eyes at the other, stopping in his tracks to regard the issue, as he wasn't necessarily one to take such criticisms against his intelligence.

"I've spent a good deal of my time looking these damned things over. But whatever that merchant gave us was worn and dated...presumably some cheap mock-up to fool someone traveling from afar.." Which made it all the worse that he himself hadn't been traveling from very far. He had lived in Ferelden all his life, and what had he to claim other than knowledge from borrowed tomes? Perhaps that was why he had garnered a particular edge to his tone. It felt twice as terrible when his side was being jabbed by someone not entirely native to the land.

                  HOW  LONG  HAS  IT  BEEN  SINCE  SHE’S  spoken  of  the  doctor  in  any  way ?  he  had  been  so  much  of  her  life  for  so  long  and  yet  she  pretends  that  he  had  never  existed ,  that  he  isn’t  the  reason  for  her  presence  here .  leaving  her  with  a   broken  clone  of  himself  and  a  tardis  that  barely  worked .  how  could  she  have  known  that  a  freshly  grown  box  would  need  more  time  before  it  could  truly  travel  the  stars ?  so  here  she  is ,  trapped  in  a  world  that  isn’t  hers  because  of  a  man  she  had  been  SO  DESPERATE  TO  FOLLOW .  how  many  more  times  could  he  let  her  down  before  she  stopped  trying  to  remember  the  good  in  him ?

she  had  sworn  to  herself  that  she  would  never  get  attached  to  a  traveling  companion  again .  that  she  had  learned  her  lesson  when  she’d  been  left  in  a  different  dimension  on  a  shore  that  felt  as  though  it  became  her  grave .  so  many  days ,  so  many  nights  spent  SAT  ON  THE  EDGE  of  the  sea ,  hoping  that  it  was  a  dream ,  praying  that  he  would  come  back  for  her .  and  even  when  she  had  found  him …  he’d  left  her  all  over  again  with  a  broken  copy  made  from  a  regenerated  hand .

but  even  the  hardest  of  hearts  eventually  gets  lonely .  and  even  the  most  determined  mind  can  find  an  excuse  for  attachment  when  there’s  someone  whose  voice  doesn’t  grate  on  your  nerves  and  their  words  don’t  make  you  wish  you  had  found  some  sort  of  academic  instead .  it  had  been  easy  to  agree  to  travel  at  first .  both  heading  the  same  direction ,  BOTH  WITH  NO  QUALMS  about  a  short  companionship .  but  days  had  turned  to  weeks  and  now  she’s  not  even  sure  how  long  they’ve  traveled  together ,  original destination  long  since  fled .

Her words are comforting, and yet he can see her worn spirit behind her eyes. Love and longing had not come without a cost, which was not necessarily a terrible thing, was it? If he could be loved by someone so entirely, so completely...he would fight through even the worst of battles if it meant they would come out together. But to lose someone he loves so deeply...it is the beginning and the end that he fears the most, he thinks. The hardest parts, of course. Perhaps that is a show of just how weak willed he can be. He is afraid to begin, and afraid to end, though he is not new to the concept...perhaps it is because he has done so too many times. He's lost so much of himself...how can he choose to start again at the risk of losing something?

Especially when that something deserves all the kindness in the world. It hadn't been beyond his notice that one of his companions had harbored feelings towards him, and it hadn't entirely been one-sided...but they were...young, and the Blight was surrounding them on all sides and oh...what if something went wrong? What if he lost one of the few things he still found comfort in?

"Maker, I wished we lived in easier times...perhaps chancing something like this without a Blight threatening the land would ease the tensions in my shoulders a little more when I deign to think about my feelings~" another laugh escapes him, this time a bit more genuine as his features begin to warm. "...But it would be remiss of me to ask for your advice and then avoid taking it...I suppose it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to...talk about such things with those who might be concerned."