magicbound:
@inashxs
They have lived too long in shadow Without Your Light to guide them!
The prayer had still been fresh in Orsino’s mind. As much as he tried to zone out, some of the chant still got through to him— yet, not the way that was intended. He had been lined with other harrowed mages considered rambunctious. Each one of them had been lowered down on their knees beneath the feet of a chantry sister, bowed forward until their foreheads touched the floor as she recited the chant to them. It had been mind-numbingly dull, but still vastly preferred than the templars’ choices for punishment.
Once that had been finally over, Orsino had stepped away to examine the towering altar for Andraste. The other mages lingered; all of them remained in clear sight of the templars and chanters, so no reprimands were earned as long as they seemed invested in the holy ground.
Another person had knelt down before the idol moments prior. Orsino bowed next to her, but did not clasp his hands in prayer. Instead, his eyes wandered over to her; far too curious for his own good.
She was young, very young, but young in the way that Orsino was still considered to be young. It was a sharp contrast to the pruned faces of many in the chantry. A pleasant difference. Her hair was light and well-kept, the sides pulled towards the back to free her face. Her clothes were of fine make and held a level of detail and cleanliness that told she did not have to walk far to reach the chantry. A noble woman perhaps. If not, her family was rich either way.
Impulses controlled his tongue, cravings for conversation and attention outside his peers and overseers second to that. “What do you pray for?” It was a low whisper that came out smoothly, his voice deep in tone, but it was enough of an intrusion and fumble that even Orsino cringed afterwards.
it was routine for leandra, to run off to the chantry && linger in it’s halls, to sit in contemplation within the soft && warm walls of the sanctum, only kneeling before andraste && all the lay brothers && sisters when ready for quiet prayer. she enjoyed it, the essence, the sense of fulfillment, the warmth that grew within her breast-- she wouldn’t trade the feeling for anything else in the world.
&& usually she is left undisturbed-- only chatting here && there every so often with the brothers that approach her for whispered greetings. so,she finds it odd for one to interrupt her prayers-- odd not bothersome.
it’s a male’s voice, she muses, only rising to see the stranger once she has finished her prayers, hair the color of wheat falling over her shoulders as her head turns in, eyes curious as ever.
he’s handsome. she can’t help thinking, looking at his pretty features for but a moment just before noticing the robes. he’s a mage.
yet observations aside, he seems nice enough-- at least at first glance, && leandra has never personally had any problems with mages. so she offers him this, a smile-- small && humble before her lips part, taking in his words carefully.
“what do i pray for?” she repeats his words back to the stranger. “i don’t believe anyone has ever asked me that before.” chuckling, she turns her head back to the statue of andraste, her hands finding their way to her lap.
“i pray... that my story has a happy ending... what about you?”
