𝙾𝙷, 𝚂𝚄𝚁𝙴. '𝙼𝙴𝚁𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙽𝚃 𝙱𝚄𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙴𝚂𝚂.' 𝙾𝙽𝙻𝚈 𝙸𝙵 𝚃𝙷𝙴 trade in question is souls. as he points over her shoulder, her eyes remain fixed on him, in a way that's almost paranoid. she just studies his face, trying to figure out how to read him in a more accurate way than she ever did before. "i joined — before." the answer comes out of her automatically. defensively, with a much harsher edge than most have ever heard her use. "i'm an apostate with the chantry." technically. kind of. it's the way she'd like to describe her position to him, at least. "i — went to haven. when i — " when she left him. ysolde takes a deep breath, trying to steel herself against the intrusive flood of emotions and nostalgia.
"i've given up magic," she tells him decisively. almost like it's a dare. he is a book written in a language she is no longer fluent in, but she can still recall the content on some of the pages. in this moment, she can take so much pleasure in the knowledge that he will take this exactly as she means it — 'i hate you so much that i have cut away pieces of myself if they remind me too much of you.' "i am a healer, and they — accept me. i don't even room with the mages. they make me — quite uncomfortable." she wants to tell him she has nothing to say to him. but the truth is that the inquisition doesn't truly accept her, not in the way she needs, and — it would be so nice to just be held, even for a moment. this is how she fell into his trap before.
She's right to keep her eyes fixed on him, not that Bastion was stupid enough to do something out in the open and during such a... festive event. An apostate with the Chantry? Bastion almost laughed at the idea but he kept his cool. A waste of her talents more like it. He tilts his head, interested in what she's saying but he has no desire to indulge what she wants, approval for doing what she she thinks is the right thing.
"And I suppose that brings you... peace yes?" Her words don't sting him, Bastion isn't phased. He's had worse things said to him by much worse people that actually meant it. He knew deep down what Ysolde desired and he knew that the Chantry would never give her, unconditional love. The Chantry wouldn't give it to anyone who was magically gifted, even if they vowed never to use their talents again. She'd be shoved back in to a circle as soon as the Chantry were able to do it.
"It does pain me," he said softly. Tenderly like a parent would. "To see you so openly admit that you enjoy wasting your talents for people who'd lock you away the second they can." Bastion leans in, to play in to her desires, his voice is sweet, caring and fatherly.
"𝙸𝚃'𝚂 — 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙻𝙻𝚈 𝙱𝙴𝙰𝚄𝚃𝙸𝙵𝚄𝙻 𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴, 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚈'𝚅𝙴 𝙳𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙰 wonderful job." brow slightly knit, mouth never quite closed, she can only stand and stare at him. she's had nightmares exactly like this. all the time, actually. she's almost in a stupor. what's worse is how familiar he feels. only a handful of years ago on this very annum, before the inquisition, before meeting cullen and the inquisitor, the first arms she would fall into under distress would be his. she had been so young, so vulnerable and naive. and he presented himself as the father she never had, one who would accept and love her for the person she actually is, not who the world wanted her to be or — who they were afraid she was. who she was afraid she was. but it was a lie. all anyone ever wanted was control. "i'm — " she swallows hard, her throat sandpaper. "i'm here with the inquisition. for the holiday." she doesn't have to ask why he's here. preying on the weak when they're the most susceptible to corruption, no doubt. "are you following me?" the words themselves might imply a tone of scandal, but all she can manage is genuine curiosity. it wouldn't be the first time, though it has been several years since the last, at least.
"Amazing what ten years can do to turn this place around, you know it was attacked by the undead nightly before they destroyed it. It used to be up over there." Bastion pointed to the windmill, on the other side of the wall keeping people out was old Redcliffe. It was easier to rebuild away from the devestation rather than on top of it. Bastion thought that was a shame. The Veil would have been extra thin over there. Not that he himself could feel it but bound to a demon it was hard not to notice it. Blood mages over time lose their connection to the veil. Bastion hadn't dreamed in years but he still held on to the ones he had, a protege worthy of taking over his work. A blood mage to surpass him. Ysolde could be that mage if she would give in to what she wanted.
He had many fine candidates in Kirkwall but he'd never seen them wield power as quickly or as easily as she did on her first try. He was interested in nurturing her potential, she just needed to let go of the Chantry teachings that she held so dear.
"With the inquisition are you? I heard many mages were conscripted in the aftermath of the rebellion. Are they treating you well then?" If he could get even a little bit of information out her about their welfare it would help him during his recruitment.
"Following you?" Bastion looked surprised. "No I spotted you and thought we could... catch up that's all. I'm here on business, merchant business."
𝐖𝐇𝐎: ysolde emmelain, closed to @bleedingcircle
𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄: the hinterlands, redcliffe village, outside the chantry
𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍: all soul's day, 9:41 dragon, dusk
𝚂𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝚃𝚂 𝙷𝙸𝙼 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙲𝚁𝙾𝚆𝙳 and, at first, she thinks it's a trick of the light or her tired, heavy mind. breath catches in her throat and she freezes. the companions she'd been walking with keep going without her. and then he notices her back, and she wishes that it's only a vision, despite how much the implications of a simple hallucination mean terror, being a mage as she is. that would still be preferable. he smiles, and starts walking towards her, and still — she cannot will her feet to unstick themselves from the pavement and move forward, go anywhere. run and hide. but it's too late. and then he's in front of her, looming over her, and she is sure this is real. "you said that i would never have to see you again."
Bastion had always liked the feel of the veil in Redcliffe. It wasn't as thin as it was in Kirkwall but with a few more disasters and it wouldn't be long until it was the same. The dragon age hadn't been kind to Thedas and Bastion knew that it was just going to keep going until a new age rung in. Things in the south had gone awry again and Bastion wanted to see the rifts and the tear in the sky himself.
He'd recognoised Ysolde without her turning around and curiously followed her. He hadn't quite been expecting to see her here of all places. She noticed him but she didn't run. He didn't need the demons power to know that part of her was intrigued and craving something that she once knew.
"And how strange it is for our paths to cross again after I said that. I take it you're here for All souls day? I wasn't expecting Redcliffe to be quite so lively," Bastion looked around. "But they did do such a marvelous job of rebuilding."
Fear of blood magic has stigmatized academic dissection
{ Anthony Head. Male. He/Him } hail, inquisitor, and well met! have you met the new arrival? BASTION HUTTER is a SEVENTY FIVEYEAR OLD old [city]ELF from [Tantervale, The Free marches ]. [He] now resides in the KIRKWALL region of THE FREE MARCHES and works as a(n) KIRKWALL CULT LEADER MERCHANT — i’ve heard it’s lovely there this time of year. on the battlefield, [he] use(s) [his] skills as a MAGE in the service of the KIRKWALL CULT. in the war, [he] supported the [mages] and now [does not support] the inquisition, which makes sense, as [he] can be quite [Intelligent] and [ruthless]. everyone keep your wits about you, now — rumor has it that [Bastion] once [successfully escaped the Circle of Magi before he was supposed to be made tranquil]. ⋰⏆◝ﾉ Frankie . They/them. 29. GMT ⟣
Basics
full character name: Bastion Hutter
Nickname/Alias: N/A as of now
birthday: 6th Firstfall 8:66 Blessed
Gender and Pronouns: Cis man, He/Him
sexuality: Pansexual
race: City Elf
Appearance
height: 6’01”
hair: Grey
eyes: Green with a distinctive brown spot in his left iris
marks and scars: Bastion has numerous scars on his body from paying the blood price for his power.
Personality
PMAI archetype: The Magician
MBTI archetype: ENTP
moral alignment: Lawful Good
character tropes: Four eyes zero soul, Mark of the beast, Necessarily Evil, Tranquil Fury, Fountian of Youth, Silver Fox,
list of aesthetics: wiping down a blade, the smell of ancient books, the rattling of chains, the smashing of a phylactery, the sound of chanting in a distant room, the feeling of knowing what shouldn’t be known.
Bastion is born in 8:66 in Tantervale’s alienage, as a young boy he’s taken to the Circle of Magi after displaying magical abilities. While in the circle Bastion was always drawn to the forbidden section of the library, being elven and a little bit of a rebel he’d sneak out of bed at night to read the forbidden tomes while hiding from the templars on patrol. He first learned about blood magic from one of these books and as a young boy hungry for knowledge he began to practice in secret.
At the age of eighteen and secretly practicing blood magic for the past ten years, Bastion begins to recruit trusted and open minded mages to his blood circle, together they were all stronger more blood spilled meant higher reward and it’s having a close group of people to practice with that plants the seeds of a circle where mages can freely practice without fear of discrimination.
At the age of twenty five his trusted circle of mages decide to perform a ritual without him. Without Bastion’s experience a desire demon is summoned and kills his inner circle, Bastion arrived on the scene a little too late to help and does the only thing he can to quell the demon. He binds the demon to himself with the spilled blood of his friends. Caught in a room with dead bodies however, Bastion is accused of killing them and he’s thrown in a cell, his punishment to be made tranquil.
With the demon’s power Bastion manipulates the templars assigned to watch him and manages to escape the circle. The first time outside in two decades, Bastion quickly leaves the city and begins to travel.
Bastion goes first to the home of blood magic, Tevinter and although blood magic is shunned, he finds that it’s an open secret among the people. He studies us under a mentor who teaches him more than he could have dreamed of but yet it’s still not enough, although he thrives in Minratheous he can see that even in the country of mages, they’re truly not free to really openly practice.
At the age of forty, he returned to the free marches, settling in Kirkwall. He establishes himself as a merchant and with the demon’s power he’s able to manipulate business deals in his favour, quickly making himself wealthy for having a reputation of being able to get you anything you want at a great cost.
He begins to build a second reputation, one where he begins to build his circle built on open practice once again but this time he has an iron grip on it’s members not wanting them to pull a demon summoning incident. He’s dedicated himself to his craft, doing research and writing it all down for the future generation of blood mages that will come after him.
Bastion amasses a following but blood magic has a price and unfortunately it needs to be paid. He loses numbers and they dwindle to only a select few of his inner circle that are incredibly skilled at the craft or incredibly loyal to him. They are his protegees and precious to his beliefs and his research.
With the mage rebellion in full swing Bastion uses it as a means to recruit numbers, now with a higher number than they’d ever had who didn’t go to inquisition went to him. He has big hopes, and even bigger dreams ones that if he can’t achieve them, those he left behind will carry on and continue his work
annaxmalina
2087
izzy806