——— FOCUS WAS UNSHIFTING, eyes narrowed and watching the rune in hand; he’d admit the magic these little stones held was impressive - terrifying, but impressive. magic was a wretched concept to him, too much power, not enough control. falkin had no delusions of where he had been made, and what kind of place tevinter was. a simple bit of history he kept to himself - where are you from; all over.
his thoughts wandered while flipping the rune until focus slipped, rune taken by the man in fancy-dress. admittedly he had more curiosities about the bright blue cloaked mage, than the rune itself. ❝ so - they’re tellin me yer a - what’s ‘er called, tranquil aye? now, ain’t ever really been talkin’ to one yer kind - tell me about ya, what’s it like to be an emotionless void? ❞ ah, the lack of tact, there it was again.
falkin stretched slightly, watching him inspect the rune - stronger blows to demons, seemed a logical choice, considering how many of those little bastards were ripping through the sky; the aching mark sliced into palm was a constant reminder.
❝ i’ll bring m’bow over later, let you fuss with it n’all, make ‘er stronger then - ain’t gonna be all flickerin’ flames and lickin at the backs of m’ears now is it? ❞
⟞ Ϟ ⦙ It was a matter of shame for him to pretend to be what he was not, Tristian knew too many mages that had been made into a shell of their former selves, yet he did it to save himself from becoming one. Maybe if he allowed it to happen then he would be more helpful to the Inquisition, but the idea of losing everything that he was scared him, even more than the idea of being possessed.
❝ It is liberating to be free of the burden of emotions, the gift of tranquility allows me to be of better service to those who employ me, Inquisitor. I no longer pose a threat to myself or others.❞
That was a lie, one that he swallowed with a bitter lump stuck in his throat. Playing off the wave of emotions that he was still very much suffering through, he busied himself with some of the papers on the desk next to him, setting the run into a wooden stand that would hold it safely.
❝ No, you will not have the fire breathing at the back of your ears, Inquisitor. It will be activated upon your engagement of the enemy when you have your bow at the ready.❞
Turning to face the man he was speaking with, his features were stoic as ever, if only for the sinking weight of the stones in his gut thanks to guilt. It wasn’t right to lie to those he was supposed to be loyal to, but it was already too late, there was nothing that could be done about it unless he wanted to out his lie and offer himself up for judgment.
❝ I will be ready for your return, Inquisitor.❞