#the tranquil

"Hector?" Lux blinked, her voice coloured in a surprise that would never have been audible when they'd first met. Of course she remembered. Hadn't she remembered every single name in the tower? Remembered each Tranquil as they were before the brand, with a strange and unwell twist in her belly? And hadn't it ached, to recognise so many bodies so vividly as the circle fell?

"… Ser Lux?" And of course he remembered. Hadn't he always remembered the little things? That Tranquil felt pain, even if they didn't speak of it? Known so many of them before the brand, with a shuddering down his spine? And hadn't it been strange to remember those names when so many were bleeding and broken?

Hadn't they both remembered? Been the only ones to remember? Rushing back into the tower, past the screams and the blood, to find the Tranquil that everyone else had forgotten? The Tranquil that did not even know to be afraid, could not feel afraid, and thus felt not impulse to save themselves. Had never been given any instruction for this circumstance.

Being assigned to the Tranquil was a duty that so few wanted and so many often found excuses to avoid. And though in fairness everyone should have been tasked to it regardless of their wants, it was often simply easier to assign Lux to the duty repeatedly, for she never complained. A blessing in disguise, for she was never frustrated, with a need to expend it. She was kind to them, as if they were still unbranded. As if it made no difference to her. Perhaps it didn't.

All the same, when Hector had run deeper into the tower to evacuate them, he had expected to be alone.

"Hector?" The helmeted wall of steel with the sword still smoking from the remains of a Rage demon could have been any Templar, certainly, but the stiff posture and flat affect was unmistakable even now. As was the way she said his name, as if it was an identity, and not just a synonym for mage. For something broken and dangerous.

"Ser Lux."

He'd expected her to try and stop him, to force him to leave for his safety. He hadn't at all expected her to already be headed in the same direction as him, but it kindled his heart with something more hopeful than he'd felt in a long time.

And here, years and lives later, they were again. She'd barely changed, expect that there was no more Templar sword on her chest. Except that expressions flickered across her once-impassive face as if she'd awakened after a long, long sleep.

He hoped that another thing had not changed, and they were still in that strange alignment that had saved the Tranquil once before.

"You know him, Ser Lux?" the Inquisitor asked with interest. Clearly a vote in his favour. A vote, he hoped, that meant they would not be sent out to the questionable mercies of the Hinterlands again.

"Yes, Inquisitor. Hector is a good man," she said firmly, as if were absolute truth. As if she'd only seen him yesterday, and the years did not matter. "May I. Find a place for them?"

"More mouths to feed, Ser Lux." It was not an objection, but a gentle warning, though the Inquisitor knew very well that the Tranquil could pay for their mouths many times over with their talents in enchantment. But she also knew, extremely well, how fragile the peace in the Inquisition was, between templars and mages and refugees of all stripes. The placid, unsettling Tranquil would bring no security to that peace.

It was little warning that simply said. They are your responsibility if you choose to find them a place. On your own head be it.

Her eye caught Hector's, nodding slowly. "We will manage, Inquisitor."

If we do not, who else will?

The yawning maw of the Chantry and the Order failed to devour them, through luck, through strange horrors, through some twist of fate and faith. It was hard, sometimes, not to wonder if they were existing on borrowed time, before the endless jaws closed around them again.