#quicksilver-rain

Just finished watering these little guys!

My mom and I are going to be planting them out front for Halloween/Dia de Los Muertos, which is why I didn't participate in the Amulet of Ghost Banishing quest.

It's probably bad manners to have Ghost Banishing objects lying around when you're actively inviting them into your house for snacks lol

...

...

well done, mysterious one. You have earned 25xp and 20gp. But wait, what's this? You have also earned +1 friendship point to Marigolds.

6. What are some of your favorite words? I always forget them as soon as I’m asked, but here are a few - persnickety, spooky, obstreperous, snack. All these words describe me, of course, and almost of them have that hilarious “hard k” sound.

12. Have you ever re-done an ancient project? What was the before and after like? Oh heck yeah. I am showing my age here a bit but this is proof positive that everyone can get better with time. 

13. Answered below! Sorry!

I watched it back in 2014, it is a very lovely movie!

White Spire

The White Spire, otherwise known as the Mage Tower of Orlais, was not as glamorous as the one in Ferelden, nor was it as uncomfortable as the Gallows Circle Tower in Kirkwall was.

It was… well, it was just about what one would expect, minus the man that happened to be attempting to pick the lock in order to gain entry to the Templar Barracks.

“Come on,” he paused, straightened to his full, towering height for a handful of seconds, and then leant down again, brushing ink black hair from brown eyes. “Just a bit more, and then I can get my hands on those daggers.” A pause, “and maybe some plate armor. No one’ll miss it, surely.”

That was the thing about White Spire, there were any number of magical methods in place to keep the Mages from getting into trouble, but not a damned one meant to keep out common folk, not that Demitrious Alexander Fleur, Esq. (or Demy, as he tended to prefer) was at all common.

Originally, he’d been considered common, perhaps, by a father that had taught him the ins and outs of B&E, grifting, and how to snatch a noblewoman’s reticule from around her wrist without her noticing, among other things. It wasn’t until the age of seventeen that he’d shown any aptitude for magic, at which point, he’d been collected up and carted off to the Circle Tower in Ferelden to be educated in the Magic Arts.

That had been eight years before, and during that time, Demy had learned to wrangle both elemental and chaos magic, before moving on to cause so much trouble for everyone housed in the Ferelden Tower, that he’d been transferred, for lack of a better term, to White Spire a couple months before, in an effort to keep the structure standing.

Now however, the lock, which was more a loose latch that could be kicked in by a particularly rowdy child than an actual lock, finally unlatched, causing the door to swing inward slightly. Demy cackled about as quietly as one is able to when trying not to get caught in a relatively echo-y corridor, and began to push into the room the rest of the way, only to be stopped by the sudden appearance of a hand on his shoulder.

Demy started violently, whipping around to see who’d caught him and what his chances were of getting punished for trespassing and/or generally making himself a nuisance were.

First Enchanter Adrian was staring at him, eyebrows raised. So, not looking great, then.

She folded her arms, now having succeeded in getting Demy’s undivided attention. “And what do you think you’re doing, young, Demitirious?”

Demy straightened and turned fully, pushing a hand into his hair in an attempt to ignore the creeping feeling that he was already on trial. It was a semi-normal occurrence, as far as Demy was concerned, though at the Ferelden Circle, he usually wasn’t caught until it was too late.

“Well, you see…” he paused there, wondering if perhaps honesty might be the best policy at this particular juncture. Well, he might as well. “There’s a really lovely set of Templar Hunter armor just… lying around in there, collecting dust, and some quite nice daggers, as well, and I just thought that there’d be no harm in my using them, since they’ve been in there for a few weeks and clearly, no one else is going to use them…” He chanced a look at First Enchanter Adrian and figured he might as well go all in, seeing as how he was already in trouble for breaking and entering, and really, he’d never met a Mage that wasn’t absolutely delighted to cause some trouble for the resident Templars. “You wouldn’t mind looking the other way and keeping an eye out for approaching Templars while I go get them, would you? I’d be immensely greatful.” Then, as a last resort, “I’d owe you big time for this.”

The First Enchanter eyed him for a moment, perhaps debating whether it was more to her benefit to allow Demy to do what he wished (since she likely had it on good authority that he would anyway) or to give in and inconvenience the Templars, however momentarily, before heaving a heavy sigh and lifting a hand in a gesture for him to continue.

Demy smiled his thanks and slunk into the armory, where the objects of his desires were sitting innocently on an armor rack, coated in a thin layer of dust. He waved the dust away, running his sleeve over the glinting surface of the breastplate and began the process of pulling off the top layers of his Chantry robes to more easily swap garments. The chest piece was easy enough, and the pauldrons were easy enough to don, without the challenge of trying to get to cooperate with the Chantry caplet he usually wore. The greaves and gauntlets posed even less of a challenge, though Demy left his old armor, if it could be called that, on the now mostly bare armor stand as a not-quite-subtle jab at whichever Templar stumbled on the scene of the crime.

He grabbed the daggers, scabbard and all as he moved to return to the hallway, fastening the belts to his waist as he walked. The door slammed shut as he rejoined the First Enchanter, the latch falling shut again from the force.

Demy struck a pose and grinned at the First Enchanter, showing off his new clothes the way an over excitable child might. “Ta-dah!” He turned once and regarded the First Enchanter, placing a hand on the pommel of one of his new daggers. “Well? What do you think? Pretty good, hmm?”

First Enchanter Adrian sighed quietly, torn, perhaps between smug satisfaction that Demy had caused trouble for the Templars, and a general exasperation at Demy’s apparent proclivity to get into mischief. She shifted her weight from one for to the other and back again, before waving a hand as if she was trying to catch smoke. “Yes, yes. Now that you’re done with that, your punishment for being a nuisance is to chaperone one of the Spire guests when she arrives later today.” The First Enchanter’s smile disappeared and was replaced with the sort of stern, motherly look that made Demy feel like he’d somehow caused irreparable damage to something irreplaceable. “She’s one of the Grey Wardens, so I expect you to show her the utmost respect and courtesy. No funny business, Demitrious.”

Demy held up his hands in surrender, wondering if the Warden was visiting the Spire to recruit someone. “No problem, Adrian,” he shot her a winning smile when she frowned at him, “you can count on me!”

The First Enchanter nodded and then eyed Demy for a moment, before speaking again. “Now that I have your attention, actually, I have a question.” She paused there, waiting for Demy to give her some indication that she could move ahead. “Why, if you don’t mind my asking, do you use a wand to cast instead of a staff? I’ve never seen anything like it in the Spire, and certainly not during my time in Ferelden’s Circle.”

Demy lifted a shoulder like the question didn’t particularly surprise him. “With my background, a wand is more… flexible. It’s easier to make magic bend to my will with a wand, and I can pour more power into my magic with a wand and use less energy, unlike Staff users… No offense.”

The First Enchanter rolled her eyes and Demy chuckled. “So then, are you unable to use a staff?”

“Well…no…” Demy pulled his wand from where it was tucked into his belt, waving it absently, so that a nearby candle sputtered with the magical push he created. “But every time I try to use a staff, it breaks apart or disintegrates. It gets bothersome after a while.” He eyed her for a moment, lifting an eyebrow. “Why?”

First Enchanter Adrian tilted her head back slightly, giving Demy the impression she was looking down her nose at him. “We haven’t had much time to speak since you arrived,” she shot a look at Demy, who’d opened his mouth to argue that they’d exchanged pleasantries in the halls at least once a day since he’d joined the Mages of the White Spire. “Not in-depth, at least… Is it a crime to wish to learn a little about my new charge?” She motioned for Demy to follow her, and he got the feeling that it was less a request and more a polite demand. He sighed, moving to join her.

“Well,” he sighed, folding his arms behind his head, eyeing the cobwebs in the corners of the lofty ceilings. “As you know, my magic didn’t manifest until I was seventeen, and before that, my father taught me everything there was to know about various unsavory acts, likely out of boredom, right up until he and my mother were killed in a Bandit Raid.” He hesitated before taking another step and shook the memory out of his head, glancing over at the First Enchanter, who was peering at him curiously.

She pushed open the door of the Library, waving a hand for him to enter before following. “They tell me you came willingly when the Templars found you.” The door closed with a softer click than the size of the door implied. “That’s a rarity.”

Demy nodded, smiling at the thought. “Yes, Amos and Valerian found me. They were surprisingly nice for Templars, and it didn’t seem right to light their asses on fire.”

The First Enchanter giggled, putting a hand over her mouth as if it had been surprised out of her, then she looked over at Demy, reaching out to brush his hair away from his face. “I must say… you seem so…” she paused, tucking a wayward strand behind his ear, looking at him a bit like she’d never seen anything quite like him. “Familiar… like we’ve met somewhere before and I can’t quite recall…” Her smile widened and Demy could see a healthy dose of mischief in her eyes as she drew back her hand. “You seem to have that effect on the Sisters, too, as well as the Mothers. You’ve got them all flocking to you like ducklings, but I think it’s just fluster on their part. After all, it isn’t often that we’re joined by such a handsome face, is it?”

Demy coughed into his fist, vaguely embarrassed by the assertion. “Yes, well, rakish good looks or no, I haven’t the faintest idea of why that is.”

First Enchanter Adrian waved his modesty away like one might wave away smoke and came to a stop in front of the door to her office. She inclined her head at Demy, then, in something of a show of respect and smiled when he returned the gesture. “Thank you for walking me to my office, Demitrious… Why don’t you get some studying done while you’re here?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, instead turning to enter the office, and leaving Demy alone in the library with her not-quite-request still hanging in the air. He sighed, and decided there was nothing for it, before wandering off to find a suitable table to sit down and study at.

Between the quiet and the lazy shafts of sunlight filtering in through the windows, and the dry subject matter, it wasn’t especially long before Demy had nodded off.

{}

A woman had appeared in the front hallway, short, dark haired, and nearly fae-like, followed shortly by a much-smaller-than-the-average-Mubari hound, who’d seen fit to stretch out on the floor and do a very passable impression of a black and brown and white area rug. She shifted, waiting for someone to notice her arrival, and her satchel rattled slightly, its contents hitting against each other. She’d been told that potions and poisons weren’t necessary for what amounted to a recognizance mission, but one never really knew what the future held, so she’d brought them anyway. She ran her fingers over the Dalish affectations on her armor, sighing quietly into the empty hall. Beside her, the dog did much the same.

Eventually, a Templar appeared, less on purpose and more out of happenstance and he eyed her curiously for a handful of seconds before speaking. “What brings you to White Spire?”

The woman shifted again, the dagger belted to her hip glinting in the watery, late evening light streaming in through the windows. “I am here to see the First Enchanter,” a pause, and then, when the Templar didn’t move, she continued, “Official Grey Warden business, I’m afraid.” She chanced a smile and dialed it back again when the Templar looked like he wanted to take a step back. The Templar nodded once, turning to presumably disappear deeper into the Spire. The woman glanced down at her hound, watching him watch the room at large while they waited.

Footsteps echoed down the hall, two pairs, at least, though one of those approaching belonged to a man much more heavily armored than the other, and the woman returned her gaze to the door the Templar had exited from.

The Templar reappeared in the doorway, followed by a much more heavily armored man she assumed to be the Knight Commander, who greeted her by eyeing her suspiciously instead of offering his hand. From the floor, the dog growled.

The Knight Commander’s attention flicked from her to the dog and back before he finally deigned to speak. “My apologies, m’lady… We were expecting…” He paused, hopefully realizing that insulting a Grey Warden was not the nest idea, shook his head, and continued, “would you be so kind as to give us your name? We have received word from the Grey Wardens confirming who they’ve sent.” “I am Aspen Vien, of the Ferelden Order of Grey Wardens-” whatever else she was going to say was cut off by the dog huffing loudly, “and this is Ten, my war hound. We are here to speak with the First Enchanter, if you don’t mind.”

Her announce was met with more stares and Aspen was beginning to think that perhaps she should have worn the Grey Warden armor on her journey, as had been suggested. Finally, the Knight Commander smiled, if a little grimly, and gestured for her to follow as he made his way into the Spire.

They didn’t speak as they made their way through the hallways, up a few flights of stairs, and then into a library with lofty ceilings and bookshelves that lined the walls. The Knight Commander made his way through the tables, looking a bit like he was searching for someone, and let out a sigh when he found a young mage snoring quietly with his feet on the table and his face hidden by a book, chair precariously balanced on two legs.

The Knight Commander sighed gravely, kicking the back of the chair so that all four legs came crashing into the floor, nearly upending the person sitting in it.

Raw magic streaked past Aspen as the man flailed around in an effort to right himself, blowing her hair away from her face as it passed before ultimately crashing into a candelabra and reducing it to a twisted chunk of silver. Aspen blinked, wondering if this happened often, or if she’d somehow walked into an assassination attempt.

The man finally stood, sending a glare in the Knight Commander’s general direction, before clapping his hands and bowing to Aspen. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to frighten you. I am Demitrious Alexander Fleur, Esquire, but you may call me Demy.”

Aspen wasn’t entirely sure if she was supposed to answer this, and elected to stay silent, if only because she had no interest in discussing business with the Knight Commander Present. Demy, for his part, looked over at the Knight Commander, perhaps to silently ask for context, and then swung his gaze back in Aspen’s general direction when the Knight Commander merely nodded at him before drifting off to do whatever it was he filled his time with. Demy looked back at Aspen and visibly scrambled for something to say. “I suppose that would make you the famed Gray Warden, Vanquisher of Darkspawn and Thwarter of Evil, then. Welcome to White Spire.”

Aspen resisted the urge to snort derisively, absently wishing that Duncan had sent her to White Spire with her partner. He was much better at winning people over than she was. “That would be me.” She took a deep breath and tried to look like she wanted to be there. “I am Aspen Vein, and this,” she gestured Ten, who was sitting on the floor at her feet, watching the conversation mildly, “is Ten, my war hound.” She stopped there, cursing Duncan for making her do his dirty work when he knew she was better at eviscerating things, and then pushed on, “I am glad to know that we are being hosted by the First Enchanter personally.” She sighed inwardly, absently hoping to get this over with so she could go home. “As you know, Ferelden is in the middle of a Blight unlike anything we’ve ever seen, and honestly, we could use all the help we can-”

Demy let out a loud laugh, holding up a hand to stop her talking. Absently, Aspen wondered how he’d feel if she broke it. “Whoa, hold on there, Ace.”

Aspen frowned. “Begging your pardon?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt, but I’m not the First Enchanter.” He sent her something that might have been a smile if it wasn’t so smug, “but I am meant to host you while you stay at White Spire.” His smile widened and Aspen thought that perhaps she wasn’t entirely fond of this Demitrious Alexander Fleur. She knew she wasn’t fond of him when his smile became a full-fledged smirk and he continued with, “so before you embarrass yourself any further than you already have, why don’t I take you to Adrian, and she’ll tell you who you can recruit, where you’re sleeping, and all of that other fun stuff.”

He turned and began making his way through the library, and Aspen debated whether or not stabbing him while his back was turned would be rude. Of course it would be just her luck, to be chaperoned by some asshole smart-mouth Mage with no tact.

Aspen was broken out of her thoughts by Demy, who turned to face her, walking backwards through the stacks. “So, you’re looking for recruits, hmm?” he asked, apparently content to ignore the entirely uninterested look Aspen was currently leveling at him. “Desiree and Maxie are at the top of their class.” He looked at her very seriously for a moment as if to see if she were suitably impressed by his statement. “They’re very adept at advanced spells. Incredibly powerful.”

Duncan would never forgive Aspen if she caused some kind of incident, worse, her partner would probably do that thing where he made disappointed faces at her until she apologized, though she thought that perhaps atoning for murder took more than an ‘I’m sorry,’ to fix.

Aspen shook her head, leveling her best we are not amusedlook at him, and directed her attention toward the scenery outside a nearby window. “You don’t say? Well, I will speak to the First Enchanter about them.” She paused, and then, because she wasn’t altogether a very nice person and no one was there to keep her in line, she added, “I assumed I would be taken straight to her, my apologies for assuming your importance.”

Demy or Demitrious or whatever it was he liked to be called shrugged exaggeratedly at her, waving off the comment like one might a fly. “It’s alright. If it makes you feel any better, you’re not the first person to assume she was a man.” He turned back around and Aspen sighed, “the Knight Commander thought she was a man, I thought she was a man, probably some of the other mages thought she was a man. I suppose that’s what happens when you’ve got an ambiguous name in a male dominated field.” He stopped by a nondescript door and knocked, pushing it open before anyone inside could acknowledge his presence, “and talking of ambiguous names, here’s Adrian now.”

He swept an arm through grandly and Aspen found herself in the midst of a loud argument between the Knight Commander and the person she assumed was the First Enchanter, if the violet sparks arcing off the top of her staff were to be believed. Aspen shared a look with Ten, who seemed to be just as vaguely disconcerted by the arguing as she was. Demy cleared his throat, pushing Aspen through the doorway with a little shove, and the room went uncomfortably quiet. He pushed past Aspen, moving to introduce her to the room at large. He rubbed his hands together uncomfortably and smiled. “First Enchanter Adrien, this is the Grey Warden you asked me to escort around during her stay. I thought it best to bring her here first, so you could conduct your business at the first opportunity. Knight Commander Eron, I believe you two have already met.”

Aspen watched First Enchanter Adrien open her mouth like she might like to answer, only to be cut off by Knight Commander Eron, who rounded on Demy like an angry animal.

“Never mind that, what I want to know is why the hell you’re wearing my men’s armor, when you should be wearing your Chantry robes,” he paused to take a breath and then kept ranting, prowling closer to Demy with each step, “your blatant disregard for your betters is insulting an-”

Aspen tuned out of the one-sided conversation at that point, uninterested in listening to the Knight Commander any longer. What she was interested in, however, was how Demy slipped one of the daggers at his hip out of its sheath, sliding the blade between the Knight Commander’s legs, dangerously close to where his hip met the rest of him when he neared too close. One wrong move and they’d all be watching the other man bleed out on the floor. Aspen wondered if that was the point, or if Knight Commander Eron was looking nervous for another reason.

Demy smiled almost good-naturedly, putting his free hand to his face, as if he was deep in thought. “Now, now, Knight Commander, I do seem to recall a certain someone saying that there was no one able to use this armor, and that it might as well be thrown out and replaced, and I thought to myself, ‘well now, why let a perfectly good armor set go to waste, when I can use it? It’ll go mysteriously missing, and the Knight Commander can order a new set without having to lie to the Chantry, and everybody wins, don’t they?’” He stopped there and tapped the inside of the Knight Commander’s thigh with the flat of his blade, “Oh, and Knight Commander, it would do you well to remember that I wasn’t always a Mage, unless you’d like me to make you a permanently committed Templar. Understood?” The Knight Commander nodded quickly, sagging in relief when Demy removed the dagger from his person.

Ace wasn’t sure how good of a Mage Demy was, but the Grey Wardens valued adaptability more than raw power, and she thought that perhaps Demitrious Alexander Fleur would fit in with the rest of the Wardens just fine, provided he stayed on the opposite side of the camp from her.

Still, she wasn’t in the habit of being especially nice, and instead of saying as much, she sent her elbow into Demy’s side a little harder than was maybe necessary. “As much as I enjoyed that little show, you’ve wasted all our time. I suggest you apologize.” Demy hissed and blinked down at her, before apparently realizing she was serious, gritting his teeth and nodding. “I apologize for wasting your time, and hope that you will find it in yourself to forgive me.” He bowed his head and sent a quick glare in Aspen’s direction. “First Enchanter Adrian, I apologize for acting in a manner that brings disgrace upon myself and the other Mages in the Spire.”

Aspen nodded in acceptance and then shifted her attention to Knight Commander Eron, who seemed to be regaining some of his previous ego. She narrowed her eyes at him and somewhere near her feet, Ten growled. “Both of you.”

Knight Commander Eron looked startled for a moment, opening his mouth like he might argue with Aspen about it. She lifted an eyebrow at him, daring him to try, and she watched, amused when he deflated in defeat.

“My… apologies,” he spit the word out like it was glass, “Warden, First Enchanter.”

Aspen smiled her most feral smile, the one that tended to put people off, and waved a hand. “Wonderful. You’re dismissed.” There was a moment of silence, before the Knight Commander seemed to realize she was talking to him. He grumbled quietly, bowing stiffly before finally taking his leave. Demy turned to join him, waiting until he was out the door before attempting to take his leave.

“Not you.” Aspen said, pointing at Demy before he could properly escape. “You stay,” and then, “close the door.” Demy, surprisingly, did as he was told, shutting the door with a quiet click and then hovering near it as if he wanted to be as close to the outside world as possible, in case something exploded or went awry.

First Enchanter Adrien folded her hands, bowing slightly in apology now that the official meeting had presumably begun. “My apologies, Warden Vien. I do hope that this incident hasn’t changed your mind about recruiting White Spire Mages for your efforts. Before you arrived, Knight Commander Eron and I were… discussing… who we might recommend to you for recruitment. Knight Commander Eron was being… difficult.” She straightened and smiled with some amount of effort. “Would you like to discuss those we believe are skilled enough to join your cause.”

Aspen lifted her shoulders uninterestedly. “Not particularly.” The First Enchanter sagged a little at this, disappointed, perhaps, Aspen didn’t particularly care. She jerked her thumb at Demy, who’d taken to leaning against the wall near the door, looking bored. “I want him.”

The First Enchanter blinked once, and then again, her mouth opening like she wanted to say something, before finally coming up with, “Demitrious?”

On her other side, Demy made a vaguely offended gesture at the First Enchanter.

“I’m not sure if he’s any good at magic, but one doesn’t become that talented with a dagger by accident.” Aspen would know. “The other skills can come later, if they must.” First Enchanter Adrien nodded, looking a little taken aback by the assertion. “Ah, yes, well, you see, Demitrious’s magic didn’t actually manifest until about eight years ago. Before that, his father was a soldier for the Arl of Refcliff, and taught him accordingly.” She paused, looking past Aspen, probably at the object of their conversation, and swallowed before continuing. “His parents were killed in a Bandit Raid, and our Templars found him tied up and held down, surrounded by scoundrels trying to use him to make a bit of coin. The Templars took him to the Ferelden Tower, and eventually, he was transferred here.” She paused again, looking away from Demy and back to Aspen, sounding much more assertive than before. “He is one of our best Enchanters, and we would be honoured if you took him to join the Grey Wardens.”

Aspen nodded in agreement. This was certainly turning out to be easier than she’d thought it would be. “He certainly seems sure of himself.” Aspen chanced a glance back at Demy, who looked torn between terror and exuberance, “well, I suppose there’s nothing for it. If there are no objections, I will take him back to Ferelden with me, where he will be conscripted into the Grey Wardens,” she turned to look at her new charge, “go pack. We’re leaving at first light tomorrow morning.”

##

Demy did as he was told, mostly because he wasn’t sure he could believe his luck and was almost convinced that if he waited too long, the whole thing would be revealed as some sort of elaborate practical joke.

He was nearly halfway to his room when something wrapped around his wrist and he was yanked into a nearby alcove. There was an arm wrapped around his chest, preventing him from lifting his arms, and another pressed only slightly too tight over his throat. “You’d better hope you leave the Spire tonight, Mage,” ah, it was the Knight Commander, then. “You won’t be getting away with threatening my manhood like that.”

“Oh please,” Demy snarled, snapping his head backward, grimly satisfied at the loud crunch that signified what sounded very much like a broken nose. He whipped around, glaring at the now fallen Knight Commander, who was holding his hands to his face in an effort to stem the blood flowing freely down his face. “I’ll be out of your hair before you know it, you Orleasian jag, no need to get shirty and lecture me. Your accent’s giving me a headache.” The Knight Commander, for his part, stumbled to his feet, stalking off in the opposite direction, pushing past Aspen, who’d apparently been relieved from the First Enchanter’s company. Demy didn’t pay her any mind, choosing to make his way to his quarters so that he could throw all of his possessions into a bag to be dragged along with him on whatever daft quest the Grey Wardens were on, before falling into bed to await nightfall, watching the sun sink down below the horizon, carpeting the land in darkness.

##

Aspen was in the fog between sleeping and waking when something wet touched her face. She batted it away, and groaned when the feeling persisted, only to find Ten laying on her chest licking her face, presumably in an effort to wake her. She sighed, swinging her feet down over the side of the little bed she’d been allowed the use of, armor grating quietly as she did.

Ten hopped off the bed and turned a circle, running from the door, to the bed, and back while Aspen pulled on her boots. She grabbed her daggers and satchel, stepping over the dog as she moved across the room to open the door. Ten darted out into the hallway, and then down the corridor to gods only knew where. Aspen followed the dog silently, wondering what exactly what had garnered his interest so late in the evening.

Eventually, they came upon a door that looked rather locked, if the way Demitrious was crouched in front of it with a set of lock-picks was any indicator. Aspen watched silently, leaning comfortably against one of the many pillars lining the hall, wondering if the First Enchanter had known the depths of his unlawful abilities. A click echoed through the hall and the door swung open, squealing quietly as a fresh breeze whipped through the Spire.

“So do you like what you see, Ace?”

Aspen lifted an eyebrow, impressed that he’d sensed her presence. The only people outside of the village she’d grown up in that were able to keep track of her with any regularity were her partner and Duncan, and the former was mostly because she let him. She blinked slowly, leaning more comfortably on the pillar. “And if I do?”

“Can we skip the pleasantries?” Demy asked almost irritably, “you’ve woken up the guards, so we need to get out of here quickly.”

Of course, Aspen had done no such thing. If anything, the door had been rigged up with some sort of magical alarm that prevented entry in the night hours, and Demy had set it off by picking the lock. He wasn’t wrong, though; Aspen could hear the sound of several people loudly making their way down the corridors. Aspen clicked her tongue at Ten and jerked her head toward the door, reaching out to tap Demy’s chestplate as they passed him by. “Lead the way.”

It seemed, that lock-picking wasn’t Demy’s only talent, Aspen noticed as they silently made their way through the winding gardens that surrounded the Spire, avoiding detection as best they could. There were a couple of close calls, but Aspen had never been caught before, so she wasn’t especially worried that she would be now. Demy was altogether a different story, but Aspen thought that perhaps if he couldn’t make a stealthy escape, then maybe he wasn’t as cut out for the Wardens as she thought he was.

Still, even with the additional person, they made it through the outskirts of the forest that surrounded the Spire with very little issue.

Demy snapped his fingers, waving his hand to catch the canteen that appeared from thin air as they walked, uncapping the container in order to take a drink. He seemed happier, now, somehow, despite their escape having taken place only moments before, somehow, suddenly much more comfortable in his skin. Aspen wouldn’t have called the Spire a particularly terrible cage, but then, it hadn’t been built to keep her in, so she supposed she wouldn’t know. Aspen squinted, looking up through the foliage above them at the stars. It was only a quick calculation or two, before she was able to figure out the general direction home was in. “Come on, then, if we hurry, we’ll be able to make it back to Ostegar before the week is out.” There would be a battle waiting for them when they got back, but Demy didn’t need to know about that just yet. It wouldn’t do to scare him off just yet.

“Right behind ya,” Demy sighed, following behind Aspen and Ten as they began making their way back to Ostegar. Aspen wondered if the lofty affectation he’d spoken with before had just been an act to fit in at the Spire. “Can’t wait to see what you have in store for me.” He smiled boyishly at Aspen. “Whatever it is, it can’t be all that bad, can it?”

The evening was chilly, and they would probably have to stop for a few hours before sunrise, but it was passable out. Aspen had certainly suffered worse with less. She hummed quietly, rummaging in her bag for a moment to pull out a piece of the sweet cake her partner had slipped into her bag before she’d taken her leave. “Well,” she mused, “obviously I’m not in a position to be giving away the Gray Wardens’ secrets, but I do know that should you agree to join the Order, you’ll be giving up everything.” She paused, dropping a bit of sweet cake down to Ten, who snapped it out of the air. “You know, title, family, livelihood. Duncan will explain better when we get there, so you might as well save the questions and come along.”

A somewhat stunned silence answered the statement, and Aspen glanced back to see that Demy was looking at her like he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it all. He shook his head, adjusting his speed to that he was nearly in step with her and Ten. “Guess I’ll just have to believe you ‘till we get to… uh… Ostegar.” “Well,” Aspen said, smiling, and Demy lifted his eyebrows in a way that suggested he was a little put off, but didn’t want to say anything about it. “Let’s go, then. The sooner we get to Ostegar, the sooner you get to have all those burning questions answered, right?”

Demy took off at something that wasn’t quite a run, passing Aspen easily and using the height he had on her to his advantage. “Well, come on then!”