@boldlyleading -> blood, sender cleans blood off of receiver. - To Niko from Hawke
The morning had been met with silence, a peace that lulled over day as most days were in life, within the Grand Necropolis. A city within a city, with open-air gardens for the public of which he had taken a long, slow stroll though before delve deep toward the dark centers of the necropolis.
It was there that he had spent most of his day, keeping the order in cold crypts. Lowest levels were the skeletal lot awoke, unruly and mindless. He attends families today, to the mummies of a family of half-tevene blood and two more families that kept their ancestors.
As was most days without the sunlight, he was dressed in gray and it's not until a wandering spirit; a young woman who could not have been older than seventeen comes to find him. Another spirit kept around by another of the Mourn Watch to keep alert; there's been an issue and the center of the issue was a name whom had coming up several times in the last week.
A problem that had presented itself when today he knew would be graced with a particular living presence; a woman whom he had been getting to know and meeting causally. A name he does not utter for he knows what a tool and weapons name means. Nikolas knew how, an when he would have to use weighty things like names.
The problem was his apprentice, a young magi whose control over their magic took them from the circles and colleges across the country and put them in the courts and necropolis. A young boy whose attitude needed to be curved, and today wasting is time when he's carefully been carving out the hours to take Lady Celeste through some of the crypts, show her further what he does here.
Mortalitasi were the most disciplined mages in all of Thedas, educated and in control. A thing to be proud of, and he wanted to show her the magic that seeped in his bones, that made him weep for it was his air and that there was nothing fear despite what outsiders thought.
Now he has to deal with his apprentice, and it sours his mood. Eats up a whole additional hour, and he plucks a wisp from the fade to seek out Celeste Hawke, to spy upon her in the open gardens while she waits and keep her company.
When he finally can pull away to go greet her, with an apologetic almost smile to his lips as he greets her. Dante, the apprentice, was not through with him for being scold for his troubles today or as of late; he comes and interrupts their meeting, throwing his fist toward Nikolas face. A ring on the noble mage boy's fingers grazes against his face and causes a small nick made to bleed.
There's a few alarmed individuals, to which he raises his hand making a smooth motion with it to signal he was fine. After the punch is thrown, Dante runs off and Nikolas grabs onto the upper arm of Celeste, staying her from reaction and pulling her attention. â Leave him, he is young and Dante has always been prone to fits. â
Nikolas hadn't even recognized he was bleeding until Celeste's fingers are touching his face, light fingers trace along his cheek than brow to wipe away. His eyes were downcast as she done so, than he's looking up with blue piercing gaze to hers. â Thank you. â There he holds still for her, until the blood is wiped away with a cloth kept in his pocket, offered to her for the task. He can't pull his eyes off of her until she's completely down. â My apologies for being late, but you stuck around. â He notes, and there's a rare smile that starts to crack his features.
â Would you still be on for walking into the tombs? â
