Pick an age or point on the characterâs timeline, and ask a question. The character will respond as that age. || accepting
  They come to Redcliffe from Lothering every now and again; the journey is not quite so long as to be inconvenient, and Malcolm knew a few people who lived there and were willing to trade magical objects with an apostate. Usually, he would leave Marian and the twins at home. This time, though, Marian had insisted he take her with, clutching to his leg and his cloak with all the stubbornness sheâd inherited from him until he allowed it. It was a trip that spanned, properly, over a week. Her memories of Redcliffe are nothing particularly special, in truth. She remembers her father holding her steady on a horse a few times, and sitting outside picking at the grass while Malcolm spoke with a shopkeep.
  More than once, she liked to go wandering. Marian was a young girl, not quite grown but stubbornly prepared to believe she was, and Malcolm grew used to her slipping away when he turned his back. So, they set up a meeting place. An old windmill by the gates, he said, the one up on the hill. You can go wandering, little bird, but make sure you come back to me. She, ever the dutiful child, would do as she was asked.
  Redcliffe was a larger town than she was used to, more bustling, full of people and settled on a lake. She liked to imagine living here, once or twice; she liked to imagine taking a house on the top of the hill to look over to the castle, and get a wonderful view of the lake. She made plans to evade the templars nearby and bring Bethany a present that sheâd stolen from one of the merchants who sold their wares out in the open. Carver never appreciated such a thing, but it was always nice to see her little sister smile when sheâd slide off the horse with some fancy new toy.
