Pretty and feisty, ok interest a little more piqued, if he were perfectly honest. There were enough apprentices that came through, small children scared and huddled who needed a soft voice and hand on their shoulder, but those were children and not some noble's protected son. At least, that was the rumor, already burning through the halls like the rugs were made of crumbling paper.
"Is it? Some seem to think so, but we'll see, won't we? A pleasure all the same, Alaric. I promise I only give one pompous bow per person, so you're safe now."
He moved into the room more and turned to look at what was on the shelf. Elemental tomes, Arcane, Creation, Entropy, Spirit, Primal, and that lovely little selection of Chantry tomes every room came with. Delightfully boring, maybe he could scrounge up something better as a 'welcome to your gilded cage' present. "I'm here to make you feel cozy and at home and show you about said home; at least the important bits." He glanced over his shoulder. "You know, a friendly face."
He turned and leaned against the bookcase to face Alaric. "How're you feeling, then?"
It was a very good rumor that he had no intention of either confirming or denying unless well and truly cornered.
He stood up and moved toward the shelf too, scanned over the subject matter and snorted, just a bit, derisively.
Are you sure this cage is gilded?
...His standards may be a bit off. His tendency toward generosity of interpretation certainly is.
That is not, he acknowledges, Anders' fault. He stays a bit out of reach but that's more to do with just how far up his nose he wants Anders' scent than wariness, at least at this point and after that remark about grand bows.
He can appreciate a sense of humor.
"I am irritated, but physically fine and would very much like to know what you think the important parts of my home are." Which was not the same as what anyone else thought the important places are.
Alaric moves closer to the shelf and there is a moment where Anders is very tempted to move closer as well. The idea caused harmless thrill: the idea of getting close and potentially getting to see how easy the pretty new omega blushed, how he might respond to some light flirtation...the idea is enough for now. He can behave. Besides, it might be more fun to pretend he hadn't noticed how enticing his scent was, in the long term.
"Irritated is forgivable. I would be too if I were yanked away from my life and thrown in a circle- oh wait." It was every mage's story, most were just younger than Alaric. It made him even more intriguing: was he different for having been at home for so long? What where his stories? So little of interest happened in Kinloch...Anders couldn't deny his curiosity.
"An-y-way," he drawled as he moved around where Alaric had gone to poke his head into the other side of the room. No one there, at least, maybe Alaric had gotten lucky and wouldn't have a roommate. "Interesting places: dining hall, of course, library, gardens, stock room, projects..." He returns from his poking and leans against the side of the bookcase again. "Clever little nooks the templars don't know about to hide for a moment, the guard rotation, the 11th story window...a whole slew of the practical and 'impractical' take your pick."
He gave Anders' a fairly exasperated look at the 'oh wait'. He was beginning to get the idea (no, he had the idea) that this guy was both entirely charming and had had his sense of humor permanently damaged by...
...his entire life, actually.
Too many sharp edges, albeit Alaric could well understand why those edges would be directed at him. He had gotten away with far more than most, and not just in coming here very late.
"I am interested in the library, whatever is interesting in the 11th story window, and hidden corners." What? Is he supposed to be responding to everything Anders says, verbally?
...He'd actually like to but he's just not wired that way. Never has been and definitely isn't now.
He still manages to find a smile. "Mostly, the impractical. Though I do want to know what they do with their charges and their heat and rut cycles."
Alaric's exasperation was fun...his smile was nicer. The fact he wasn't put off by Anders' humor mixed with the more sharp quality to it was also endearing. Perhaps the rumors were wrong...or maybe Anders' perception of a noble mageling were, he'd have to see.
For now, the more practical question receives a shrug. "There are wards on some of the upper levels, away from both the mage's and templar's rooms where people are taken to ride it out. The healers in the tower make poultices and, if it's really bad, one of your two resident spirit healers will come to try and ease the symptoms. Assuming it's not a breeding or mated pair, of course. Then you're locked in your room with a lovely little 'don't get knocked up until we say so' potion and you're given a few days." Most of the time, from what he knew. He'd heard stories of one half of a pair being left to suffer alone because the other half was needed for something and both had to make due with potions or -worse- substitutes. Templar betas to calm one or the other...
Anders shuddered a bit to himself but turned a smile on Alaric. "Anyway, come on, I can answer questions while we use our feet. Library first, nooks and crannies along the way, and we'll end on the 11th story."
He outright rolls his eyes at that explanation. Why? Because snarling about it wasn't going to accomplish much, and he could at least pretend to be less effected than he was.
It did, absolutely sound horrible.
"How very refined," he mutters, but then. "Yes, show me. I don't think I have more questions yet, and I am very curious about the window."
He practically perks up at that, bright sunshine with a sharp edge to the corner of his smile. "Yes, that's the circle for you: utterly refined, we even have cutlery!"
It's easier to laugh about it, smile about it. He had it easier and it kept him placated, he knew some things had been done for him to keep him placated, he was an alpha and a Spirit Healer. Wynne needed special dispensation to leave the tower as an omega, but not Anders. He'd be useful to Irving, so Irving made himself useful to Anders. A pleasantly rancid little game they'd been running since he'd arrived thirteen years ago.
He lead Alaric out into the circular hall, pointing out the stockroom with it's vacant-eyed tranquil guards and the Chantry hall for prayers ('if you're into that sort of thing of course-') and on to the library, sprawling and packed with numerous different kinds of tomes, some so far up, they needed ladders to be reached.
Anders showed him the corner of the stacks that was blind to the templar's tracking path, the corner of tables where you could see a templar coming a mile off, but they wouldn't see you for a few minutes yet, showed him the dead-end hallway that ended in some horrendous bust of Andraste, but had just enough space behind it for at least one person comfortably ('or two if you're feeling risky-' he'd added with a waggle of his eyebrows.) On the way up to the 11th floor, he told him of a few nooks down in the Apprentice's ward, though there was rarely a reason for mages and enchanters to be down there without a lesson they were teaching, and pointed out a few more as they passed various floors. The third and fourth were dedicated to Templar needs, including a barracks, the fifth had storage, sixth the heat and rut wards, seventh a larger chantry for whatever reason, and so on until almost the very top: the 11th floor.
Anders pushed the door open and stepped out first to look around. Once he knew the coast was clear, he motioned for Alaric to follow and lead him along the hallway, practically illuminated by all the large windows nearly taking over every wall on their path, each lined with colored glass, though none made a particular pattern until half way around the circle where a huge sun-patterned glass window illuminated the hall in a veritable rainbow of color. Anders stopped there and turned to look at Alaric and his expression.
"What do you think? Near-perfect quiet, you can hear the waves off Lake Calenhad...and about this time of day, this hall lights up."
He's pretty quiet, almost aloof, for most of the tour. Not disinterested, just taking the information in, filing it away, remembering it, and not really reacting to it.
On the eleventh floor, he immediately warms a bit and becomes more present - just for the light, the quiet, and the color. Once they hit that particular window his face lights up and there's actual a smile.
As much for Anders' appreciation of the beauty and his enthusiasm to show him as for the quiet and beauty himself. "It's beautiful," he says, looking at the sun patterned glass. Then back to Anders. "Perfect, even. Is this floor for anything?"
When he looks back there's a smile and warmth meeting him and it's not just the hall that seems radiant then.
It's an idle thought, one that he keeps cornered away. Alaric was pretty, quiet, and so far a little snooty...but he shouldn't get attached, even if that smile had sent a bit of a flutter through him. Silly, boyish thoughts.
The question is far better to focus on. "My garden. Well....not my garden, the garden, but it might as well be, Irving opened it back up because I got restless. Only healers are allowed up here."
He pointed down the hall where the edge of a set of lattice-style doors could just be seen. Then raised his finger to his lips.
"However....the window is here." He motioned for Alaric to follow him to the window next to the sun-shaped window. Anders fiddled with one of the panes, then pressed on it lightly, causing it to swing out and reveal a thin, stone outcropping. The window itself was just big enough for someone to crouch and climb through. "Are you afraid of heights?"
He knows nothing about healing - absolutely nothing. It was not part of the education he was given, beyond being vaguely aware that such things are technically possible.
He thought the window with the sun was the window he was being shown and his surprise is fairly mild, but it is clearly reflected on his face, but follows along. He has so many questions now - about healing and gardens and Irving.
He refrains from asking them, in favor of answering the single one he was asked: "I am not afraid of heights." Or much else, but that is... more arrogance than bravado. Give it time, that one will break down.
"Good!" He responds cheerily and leads the way out the window, slowing only to be careful of his balance as he steps out onto the outcropping. It wraps around a few feet and feeds into a larger ledge, wide enough for more than two people to sit on, it's edges lined with the rubble of what might have made it a balcony at one point.
Here Anders plops down and pats the space next to him as invitation. It was the view that he'd brought Alaric out for.
Far below them, Lake Calenhad stretched all around the tower, nearly to it's stony base. The shores across the water lined in green with the nearby settlement for trade and travel visible at the broken docks East of the tower. Beyond the shores, the rest of Ferelden sprawled, green and brown with forests dense on the horizon and hills dotting the landscape. The Frostback Mountains, huge and snow-capped and expansive curled around to be visible to the north and Redcliffe keep, high on it's aptly named red cliffs, could be seen like a model nearby the mountains. To the south, the green gave way to brown of the Kokari marshlands.
Anders settled with his arms on his knees, eyes on the roads that wandered away from Kinloch's trade hub. "This is my favorite spot." He looked back over to Alaric, his smile slipping into something more considerate. "Where did you come from?"
He picks his way carefully along the outcropping and to the wider bit of a ledge and sits down. The invitation was nice, but he was sitting either way. Even if it's a little uncomfortable on a... particular sort of level involving alphas and omegas and scents and closeness--
and being close being generally unfamiliar.
He does not hate it.
He keeps his hands on the stone on either side of him.
He looks out at the view, a little caught up in it and the... not the beauty but the illusion of freedom and a bigger world. He's almost tempted to fall into it, not because he is self-destructive (he isn't) but because it's both right there and completely out of reach.
He hears the question on some kind of delay. It does drag him out of his mind though and he turns to look at Anders and smiles, wryly. "Gwynedd. My last name is Morgan." So, yeah. Rumor confirmed.
When he settles, there's an urge to wrap an arm around him and pull him closer, but Anders' very well practiced in not listening to those urges, at the very least for Wynne's proximity each day. Luckily, they make it very easy to blame on Alaric being an omega and smelling so nice rather than any actual base attraction he might be feeling.
It's a feeling he overcomes again in the moment of silence between when he'd asked and when an answer is offered as his eyes trail over the boy's features. Soft, pretty, but a sharpness in his eyes that spoke of more...though more of what, Anders couldn't say. He wanted to, though, he wanted to learn.
It's in that moment when he turns to look at Anders and the light catches them with that smile that seize his breath in his lungs for an unpleasant moment. It isn't exactly the same shade, but in that light, they almost matched eyes he knew too well and his smile almost fell for it. Almost. Silly little things that don't matter, he reminded himself and focused on the answer: a proper distraction he latched onto.
"Aah...House Morgan...no wonder the library was of interest...and likely pale in comparison, right? I'd heard the heir was all set to be married, just didn't realize that and the story of a nobleman's child being an apostate found out by some hired bard were the same thing." A pause and his expression softened minutely. "My condolences, then, that you were found out at all, and insult to injury, were sent here. You could have gone somewhere fancy like Montsimmard."
He felt that moment and his own smile absolutely fell, replaced by an expression of concern and slight confusion, complete with a crease between his eyebrows. The urge to try to provide physical comfort? Easily enough brushed aside.
"I am neither injured nor particularly insulted," he says, sounding pretty even but with a... flatness that was mostly the result of just... tired inevitability. "This should have happened years ago."
Moving on:
"I'm sure the library is fine. The view certainly is."
Alaric's reaction...was he so transparent? He prided himself on the smiles and the jokes and the endless golden charm to keep things nicely packaged up complete with a pretty bow, but maybe he was slipping. Or maybe some other thought had brought Alaric's expression down and it had nothing to do with Anders, yes that was likely it. As much as the world ought to revolve around him, it so rarely listened, after all.
Yes, it was much more likely to do with that very thing: practicality in the face of emotion. Deny how you feel about a thing in the interest of focusing on what logically makes sense. Anders' brow arched, his tone pointed as he turned to look back out at the horizon. "Hold onto that little talent of prioritization and you'll do very nicely in the circle, I think."
'Am I tranquil? No. Am I breathing? Yes. Then all was right in the world, right?' Some days it was enough.
"The view from here is better than the view from the garden, it's all Honneleath and the Kokari Wilds and the southern half of the Frostbacks from there, but also a huge lattice fence, so it's harder to take in. As I said, the gardens are meant for the healers only, so if you don't want to sneak around, find yourself a healer friend to come up here with. Well, up to the gardens with. This spot is known by about a dozen, and only half of those are healers, and another half won't set foot for the height, so you might need to sneak for this one."
"I'll be interested to see the gardens, because they are there. I'll be more interested to see if I can make a friend who is a healer and see what I can pry out of them about the field. I know nothing beyond it's theoretical possibility."
There's a kind of slight smile with that, but in truth? He is pretty confident that he'll be okay. Challenges? Yes. But not likely the ones most would imagine or expect from a very pampered Omega used to a life of luxury.
Well, most of them. At least one or two will be predictable.
Very, very predictable.
"There are advantages to being here. That is one." In general and in specific.
"I'll show them to you whenever you've had your fill here...though, that might be best within the hour, just in case anyone goes looking for us. Irving probably, He probably wants to talk to you before dinner." Which was hours off still, they had time.
He leans back on his hands and flashes a smile over towards Alaric. "Oh I'm sure you'll manage. There's about a dozen healers here and, as I said, two spirit healers -which is two more than you'll find in near any other circle, there's less than a dozen in existence, you know. If you've a talent for Creation magic, they'll likely put you on a healer's path yourself. Creation or Entropy, I suppose, most can do both since they're so similar."
Not...him...but who was good at everything anyway?
"What sort of magic can you do? Innate element? Focuses? Passions? Or were you simply taught how not to blow up the hallways or blast back people in a fit of emotion?"
"Aaah....but you've blasted something?" Anders follows to his feet and leads the way, back, but only to ensure the window is pressed in the right place (which he stops to point out to Alaric) and also to ensure the coast was clear. Once they were back in the hall, he closes the window behind them and starts down the rest of the hall.
"Very well, keep your secrets and your specialties, most will be known soon enough, I'm afraid, so enjoy having them while you can."
The latticed door's handle swept in beautiful ironwork, though one side of it had a pad that glowed the color of lyrium and gave off the mineral's gentle hum as well. Anders places his hand over it and pauses, waiting for the gentle glow to turn white and fade, before pushing the door open.
Inside, the fence he'd mentioned before wraps around the edges of the oversized balcony and creates as roof over the whole thing. Enough to shade, but not enough to keep the sun and rain out. Tables with pots line the sides, bordered by pots as large as a dwarf and trellises that carry their greenery proudly. In the center stands a large table that carries more plants as well as clear spaces meant as work areas. Throughout the area, blue and red crystals in brass settings take up measured distance from one another.
Anders leads them in and immediately goes to a large plant in one of the pots on the floor, it's, broad leaves a deep green that faded into light purple, stretched out almost in greeting. "Hello, beautiful, how are you today? You get special extra visit because I have a guest. Besides, I need to check on your sisters."
He brushes his fingers along one leaf, but then moves to a row of pots on the table beside it. The plants there were smaller but similar in shape and color, only instead of purple, the leaves faded into a pale orange. Here he stops and grows quiet with focus as he inspects the leaves.
"I'm sure you're right," he says, with that same tired inevitability of earlier. In truth he just doesn't want this interaction tainted. Just taking this singular interaction for what it is, as it is, with less complication than it might have.
He also doesn't quite know how to answer the question, anyway. His education's been effective but somewhat strange.
He makes his way over toward one of the trellises, looking past the fence a bit, before refocusing and tracing one of the trailing vines, carefully. "You, meanwhile, are obviously a healer." This is not a sign of intelligence. Only healers go there, right?
Anders smiles to himself as he prunes a bit around the base of a couple of the plants, then reaches for a jar tucked away under the table to sprinkle some of the solution he'd prepared yesterday over them. This crop would not fail to the parasites that had somehow found them, not if he had anything to say about it. Besides, they'd be needed soon, they had to be as healthy as possible.
"I'm afraid you've caught me green-handed." He hadn't been especially stealthy, but he could keep the nature of his healing under wraps for now. It was always the same as soon as anyone knew...people didn't always look at Wynne like that, but Anders was an Aplha, who knew how much more 'dangerous' he could be. Easier to just let it be.
"You have to understand, once anyone knows you're a healer it's all 'do this do that, Anders I have a papercut, Anders I banged my shin, Anders my stomach aches, please can't you help me' and there's never any rest again." He finishes his work and tucks the jar back away to turn and face Alaric with that smirk back in place. "But, as I said, secrets die young here, you were bound to find out eventually. Had I not needed to tend to your future salvation here, we might have even gone a day on even ground. Oh well. Welcome to the gardens, I'm sure I could arrange to bring you up here if you ever wanted, though there's plenty of others who have access, as I said, you might find yourself getting along better with them, as endlessly charming as I'm sure you've found me."
He nods to the space at large. "It's mostly communal, though everyone has their own project and specialty here, then the plants are harvested, prepared, and brought down to the projects room to be turned into potions, poultices, toxins, or whatever else might be needed." He pointed to a corner of the garden that seemed to be growing fruits and vegetables. "Oh, except those. That's just food."
That was an awful lot of words and he was pretty sure most of them were not particularly relevant or important.
That sharp edged humor as cover again, maybe, woven through some actually important things.
He slides a strand of his blonde hair behind his ear and tucks it there to stay secure, frowning again. "...Why would you being a healer result in us being on uneven ground?" Especially in light of other things.
Also food is interesting and he's heard about it and the nature of the space but also he does not currently care about that.
Of everything he said, that was the part he had to clue in on. Alaric Morgan was not a noble to be wowed and distracted, he was sharp and perceptive and clearly more than a match even after only a few hours if the allure of newness didn't turn his head. Anders would have to keep an eye on him.
There is one, very self-destructive moment where he thinks about telling him how exactly uneven their ground is in his mind, to tell him about being a Spirit Healer and all the societal baggage that came with it. Extra danger, extra risk, constantly flirting with forces every mage is taught to steer clear of and be wary. No one wants to interact with a mage who risks possession every day, especially an Alpha, already seen as both potentially aggressive and holding power, how much worse was it to know that could be twisted into something a hundred times worse as an abomination?
The moment passes and he simply shrugs, arms out like it's a simple answer, really. "Magic is meant to serve man, not rule over him. What better service to man but those who can work the Maker's grace into healing salvation? Where most bend the natural elements and work to defend or enhance or study, healers serve even their fellow mages, not only man, the ground is proverbially uneven. I am bound to serve, you or anyone else, I am a healer before I am anything else." Half of it was said with the sort of overblown air of someone reciting someone else's words, but the other half was bare and earnest, though with far less resentment than the words themselves might imply. It was complicated, but enough for now, and only a partial lie for what he omit rather than what was said.
There is something in the combination of the self-loathing and... almost arrogance that is very, very confusing for him and that expression is once more stamped on his face, albeit fairly subtly.
It is also clear in his pause before reply, and the way his fingers on the plant he was touching still.
"I don't think that's quite how that works," is all he says, still looking... well, completely and utterly baffled, completely still save the wind toying with the occasional strand of his hair.
"No?" He holds Alaric's gaze a moment, amber eyes steadfastly taking in every ounce of that confusion. It was fine, better he didn't. Maybe he'd never understand and this would be filed away as 'that one really odd conversation I had with the crazy Alpha healer' and it would never matter again.
All at once, his expression melted to an easy smile and he gave a wave of his hand as though brushing aside the entire thing. "Well, then I must be wrong, forget it entirely."
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"Is it? Some seem to think so, but we'll see, won't we? A pleasure all the same, Alaric. I promise I only give one pompous bow per person, so you're safe now."
He moved into the room more and turned to look at what was on the shelf. Elemental tomes, Arcane, Creation, Entropy, Spirit, Primal, and that lovely little selection of Chantry tomes every room came with. Delightfully boring, maybe he could scrounge up something better as a 'welcome to your gilded cage' present. "I'm here to make you feel cozy and at home and show you about said home; at least the important bits." He glanced over his shoulder. "You know, a friendly face."
He turned and leaned against the bookcase to face Alaric. "How're you feeling, then?"
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He stood up and moved toward the shelf too, scanned over the subject matter and snorted, just a bit, derisively.
Are you sure this cage is gilded?
...His standards may be a bit off. His tendency toward generosity of interpretation certainly is.
That is not, he acknowledges, Anders' fault. He stays a bit out of reach but that's more to do with just how far up his nose he wants Anders' scent than wariness, at least at this point and after that remark about grand bows.
He can appreciate a sense of humor.
"I am irritated, but physically fine and would very much like to know what you think the important parts of my home are." Which was not the same as what anyone else thought the important places are.
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"Irritated is forgivable. I would be too if I were yanked away from my life and thrown in a circle- oh wait." It was every mage's story, most were just younger than Alaric. It made him even more intriguing: was he different for having been at home for so long? What where his stories? So little of interest happened in Kinloch...Anders couldn't deny his curiosity.
"An-y-way," he drawled as he moved around where Alaric had gone to poke his head into the other side of the room. No one there, at least, maybe Alaric had gotten lucky and wouldn't have a roommate. "Interesting places: dining hall, of course, library, gardens, stock room, projects..." He returns from his poking and leans against the side of the bookcase again. "Clever little nooks the templars don't know about to hide for a moment, the guard rotation, the 11th story window...a whole slew of the practical and 'impractical' take your pick."
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...his entire life, actually.
Too many sharp edges, albeit Alaric could well understand why those edges would be directed at him. He had gotten away with far more than most, and not just in coming here very late.
"I am interested in the library, whatever is interesting in the 11th story window, and hidden corners." What? Is he supposed to be responding to everything Anders says, verbally?
...He'd actually like to but he's just not wired that way. Never has been and definitely isn't now.
He still manages to find a smile. "Mostly, the impractical. Though I do want to know what they do with their charges and their heat and rut cycles."
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For now, the more practical question receives a shrug. "There are wards on some of the upper levels, away from both the mage's and templar's rooms where people are taken to ride it out. The healers in the tower make poultices and, if it's really bad, one of your two resident spirit healers will come to try and ease the symptoms. Assuming it's not a breeding or mated pair, of course. Then you're locked in your room with a lovely little 'don't get knocked up until we say so' potion and you're given a few days." Most of the time, from what he knew. He'd heard stories of one half of a pair being left to suffer alone because the other half was needed for something and both had to make due with potions or -worse- substitutes. Templar betas to calm one or the other...
Anders shuddered a bit to himself but turned a smile on Alaric. "Anyway, come on, I can answer questions while we use our feet. Library first, nooks and crannies along the way, and we'll end on the 11th story."
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It did, absolutely sound horrible.
"How very refined," he mutters, but then. "Yes, show me. I don't think I have more questions yet, and I am very curious about the window."
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It's easier to laugh about it, smile about it. He had it easier and it kept him placated, he knew some things had been done for him to keep him placated, he was an alpha and a Spirit Healer. Wynne needed special dispensation to leave the tower as an omega, but not Anders. He'd be useful to Irving, so Irving made himself useful to Anders. A pleasantly rancid little game they'd been running since he'd arrived thirteen years ago.
He lead Alaric out into the circular hall, pointing out the stockroom with it's vacant-eyed tranquil guards and the Chantry hall for prayers ('if you're into that sort of thing of course-') and on to the library, sprawling and packed with numerous different kinds of tomes, some so far up, they needed ladders to be reached.
Anders showed him the corner of the stacks that was blind to the templar's tracking path, the corner of tables where you could see a templar coming a mile off, but they wouldn't see you for a few minutes yet, showed him the dead-end hallway that ended in some horrendous bust of Andraste, but had just enough space behind it for at least one person comfortably ('or two if you're feeling risky-' he'd added with a waggle of his eyebrows.) On the way up to the 11th floor, he told him of a few nooks down in the Apprentice's ward, though there was rarely a reason for mages and enchanters to be down there without a lesson they were teaching, and pointed out a few more as they passed various floors. The third and fourth were dedicated to Templar needs, including a barracks, the fifth had storage, sixth the heat and rut wards, seventh a larger chantry for whatever reason, and so on until almost the very top: the 11th floor.
Anders pushed the door open and stepped out first to look around. Once he knew the coast was clear, he motioned for Alaric to follow and lead him along the hallway, practically illuminated by all the large windows nearly taking over every wall on their path, each lined with colored glass, though none made a particular pattern until half way around the circle where a huge sun-patterned glass window illuminated the hall in a veritable rainbow of color. Anders stopped there and turned to look at Alaric and his expression.
"What do you think? Near-perfect quiet, you can hear the waves off Lake Calenhad...and about this time of day, this hall lights up."
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On the eleventh floor, he immediately warms a bit and becomes more present - just for the light, the quiet, and the color. Once they hit that particular window his face lights up and there's actual a smile.
As much for Anders' appreciation of the beauty and his enthusiasm to show him as for the quiet and beauty himself. "It's beautiful," he says, looking at the sun patterned glass. Then back to Anders. "Perfect, even. Is this floor for anything?"
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It's an idle thought, one that he keeps cornered away. Alaric was pretty, quiet, and so far a little snooty...but he shouldn't get attached, even if that smile had sent a bit of a flutter through him. Silly, boyish thoughts.
The question is far better to focus on. "My garden. Well....not my garden, the garden, but it might as well be, Irving opened it back up because I got restless. Only healers are allowed up here."
He pointed down the hall where the edge of a set of lattice-style doors could just be seen. Then raised his finger to his lips.
"However....the window is here." He motioned for Alaric to follow him to the window next to the sun-shaped window. Anders fiddled with one of the panes, then pressed on it lightly, causing it to swing out and reveal a thin, stone outcropping. The window itself was just big enough for someone to crouch and climb through. "Are you afraid of heights?"
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He thought the window with the sun was the window he was being shown and his surprise is fairly mild, but it is clearly reflected on his face, but follows along. He has so many questions now - about healing and gardens and Irving.
He refrains from asking them, in favor of answering the single one he was asked: "I am not afraid of heights." Or much else, but that is... more arrogance than bravado. Give it time, that one will break down.
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Here Anders plops down and pats the space next to him as invitation. It was the view that he'd brought Alaric out for.
Far below them, Lake Calenhad stretched all around the tower, nearly to it's stony base. The shores across the water lined in green with the nearby settlement for trade and travel visible at the broken docks East of the tower. Beyond the shores, the rest of Ferelden sprawled, green and brown with forests dense on the horizon and hills dotting the landscape. The Frostback Mountains, huge and snow-capped and expansive curled around to be visible to the north and Redcliffe keep, high on it's aptly named red cliffs, could be seen like a model nearby the mountains. To the south, the green gave way to brown of the Kokari marshlands.
Anders settled with his arms on his knees, eyes on the roads that wandered away from Kinloch's trade hub. "This is my favorite spot." He looked back over to Alaric, his smile slipping into something more considerate. "Where did you come from?"
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and being close being generally unfamiliar.
He does not hate it.
He keeps his hands on the stone on either side of him.
He looks out at the view, a little caught up in it and the... not the beauty but the illusion of freedom and a bigger world. He's almost tempted to fall into it, not because he is self-destructive (he isn't) but because it's both right there and completely out of reach.
He hears the question on some kind of delay. It does drag him out of his mind though and he turns to look at Anders and smiles, wryly. "Gwynedd. My last name is Morgan." So, yeah. Rumor confirmed.
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It's a feeling he overcomes again in the moment of silence between when he'd asked and when an answer is offered as his eyes trail over the boy's features. Soft, pretty, but a sharpness in his eyes that spoke of more...though more of what, Anders couldn't say. He wanted to, though, he wanted to learn.
It's in that moment when he turns to look at Anders and the light catches them with that smile that seize his breath in his lungs for an unpleasant moment. It isn't exactly the same shade, but in that light, they almost matched eyes he knew too well and his smile almost fell for it. Almost. Silly little things that don't matter, he reminded himself and focused on the answer: a proper distraction he latched onto.
"Aah...House Morgan...no wonder the library was of interest...and likely pale in comparison, right? I'd heard the heir was all set to be married, just didn't realize that and the story of a nobleman's child being an apostate found out by some hired bard were the same thing." A pause and his expression softened minutely. "My condolences, then, that you were found out at all, and insult to injury, were sent here. You could have gone somewhere fancy like Montsimmard."
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"I am neither injured nor particularly insulted," he says, sounding pretty even but with a... flatness that was mostly the result of just... tired inevitability. "This should have happened years ago."
Moving on:
"I'm sure the library is fine. The view certainly is."
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Yes, it was much more likely to do with that very thing: practicality in the face of emotion. Deny how you feel about a thing in the interest of focusing on what logically makes sense. Anders' brow arched, his tone pointed as he turned to look back out at the horizon. "Hold onto that little talent of prioritization and you'll do very nicely in the circle, I think."
'Am I tranquil? No. Am I breathing? Yes. Then all was right in the world, right?' Some days it was enough.
"The view from here is better than the view from the garden, it's all Honneleath and the Kokari Wilds and the southern half of the Frostbacks from there, but also a huge lattice fence, so it's harder to take in. As I said, the gardens are meant for the healers only, so if you don't want to sneak around, find yourself a healer friend to come up here with. Well, up to the gardens with. This spot is known by about a dozen, and only half of those are healers, and another half won't set foot for the height, so you might need to sneak for this one."
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There's a kind of slight smile with that, but in truth? He is pretty confident that he'll be okay. Challenges? Yes. But not likely the ones most would imagine or expect from a very pampered Omega used to a life of luxury.
Well, most of them. At least one or two will be predictable.
Very, very predictable.
"There are advantages to being here. That is one." In general and in specific.
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He leans back on his hands and flashes a smile over towards Alaric. "Oh I'm sure you'll manage. There's about a dozen healers here and, as I said, two spirit healers -which is two more than you'll find in near any other circle, there's less than a dozen in existence, you know. If you've a talent for Creation magic, they'll likely put you on a healer's path yourself. Creation or Entropy, I suppose, most can do both since they're so similar."
Not...him...but who was good at everything anyway?
"What sort of magic can you do? Innate element? Focuses? Passions? Or were you simply taught how not to blow up the hallways or blast back people in a fit of emotion?"
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Why is he being evasive?
Because he can and because he doesn't know enough to know, but does know enough to be cautious. Very, very cautious.
Except: "I've never blown up anything, nor blasted anyone." Thank you very much.
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"Very well, keep your secrets and your specialties, most will be known soon enough, I'm afraid, so enjoy having them while you can."
The latticed door's handle swept in beautiful ironwork, though one side of it had a pad that glowed the color of lyrium and gave off the mineral's gentle hum as well. Anders places his hand over it and pauses, waiting for the gentle glow to turn white and fade, before pushing the door open.
Inside, the fence he'd mentioned before wraps around the edges of the oversized balcony and creates as roof over the whole thing. Enough to shade, but not enough to keep the sun and rain out. Tables with pots line the sides, bordered by pots as large as a dwarf and trellises that carry their greenery proudly. In the center stands a large table that carries more plants as well as clear spaces meant as work areas. Throughout the area, blue and red crystals in brass settings take up measured distance from one another.
Anders leads them in and immediately goes to a large plant in one of the pots on the floor, it's, broad leaves a deep green that faded into light purple, stretched out almost in greeting. "Hello, beautiful, how are you today? You get special extra visit because I have a guest. Besides, I need to check on your sisters."
He brushes his fingers along one leaf, but then moves to a row of pots on the table beside it. The plants there were smaller but similar in shape and color, only instead of purple, the leaves faded into a pale orange. Here he stops and grows quiet with focus as he inspects the leaves.
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He also doesn't quite know how to answer the question, anyway. His education's been effective but somewhat strange.
He makes his way over toward one of the trellises, looking past the fence a bit, before refocusing and tracing one of the trailing vines, carefully. "You, meanwhile, are obviously a healer." This is not a sign of intelligence. Only healers go there, right?
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"I'm afraid you've caught me green-handed." He hadn't been especially stealthy, but he could keep the nature of his healing under wraps for now. It was always the same as soon as anyone knew...people didn't always look at Wynne like that, but Anders was an Aplha, who knew how much more 'dangerous' he could be. Easier to just let it be.
"You have to understand, once anyone knows you're a healer it's all 'do this do that, Anders I have a papercut, Anders I banged my shin, Anders my stomach aches, please can't you help me' and there's never any rest again." He finishes his work and tucks the jar back away to turn and face Alaric with that smirk back in place. "But, as I said, secrets die young here, you were bound to find out eventually. Had I not needed to tend to your future salvation here, we might have even gone a day on even ground. Oh well. Welcome to the gardens, I'm sure I could arrange to bring you up here if you ever wanted, though there's plenty of others who have access, as I said, you might find yourself getting along better with them, as endlessly charming as I'm sure you've found me."
He nods to the space at large. "It's mostly communal, though everyone has their own project and specialty here, then the plants are harvested, prepared, and brought down to the projects room to be turned into potions, poultices, toxins, or whatever else might be needed." He pointed to a corner of the garden that seemed to be growing fruits and vegetables. "Oh, except those. That's just food."
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That sharp edged humor as cover again, maybe, woven through some actually important things.
He slides a strand of his blonde hair behind his ear and tucks it there to stay secure, frowning again. "...Why would you being a healer result in us being on uneven ground?" Especially in light of other things.
Also food is interesting and he's heard about it and the nature of the space but also he does not currently care about that.
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There is one, very self-destructive moment where he thinks about telling him how exactly uneven their ground is in his mind, to tell him about being a Spirit Healer and all the societal baggage that came with it. Extra danger, extra risk, constantly flirting with forces every mage is taught to steer clear of and be wary. No one wants to interact with a mage who risks possession every day, especially an Alpha, already seen as both potentially aggressive and holding power, how much worse was it to know that could be twisted into something a hundred times worse as an abomination?
The moment passes and he simply shrugs, arms out like it's a simple answer, really. "Magic is meant to serve man, not rule over him. What better service to man but those who can work the Maker's grace into healing salvation? Where most bend the natural elements and work to defend or enhance or study, healers serve even their fellow mages, not only man, the ground is proverbially uneven. I am bound to serve, you or anyone else, I am a healer before I am anything else." Half of it was said with the sort of overblown air of someone reciting someone else's words, but the other half was bare and earnest, though with far less resentment than the words themselves might imply. It was complicated, but enough for now, and only a partial lie for what he omit rather than what was said.
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It is also clear in his pause before reply, and the way his fingers on the plant he was touching still.
"I don't think that's quite how that works," is all he says, still looking... well, completely and utterly baffled, completely still save the wind toying with the occasional strand of his hair.
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All at once, his expression melted to an easy smile and he gave a wave of his hand as though brushing aside the entire thing. "Well, then I must be wrong, forget it entirely."
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