giraudduloyallevriers
There was a vast portion of the world at large that Alphonse, reluctant as he was to admit it, was still ignorant about. He had access to every book he could desire in the Circle, and with no company to speak of his time was spent reading in the hours between sleeping and training. The Nevarran mage knew histories and tales that the titles alone of which could stack up taller than his father; and yet he had none of the experience.
His travels thus far had been eye opening and ... interesting, to say the very least. Already a few times he had heard how his delay in arrival to the Conclave was surely an act of divinity in which he was spared, but it was merely reverent gossip springing forth in fear of the Breach and the rise of the so called Herald. Alphonse knew what delayed them; a weary old horse who needed a night of rest and water. As quick as those around him were to throw praise around for survival, they were just as fast to sneer when he informed them of his nonbelieving ways.
Nonetheless, each time there was an opportunity to traverse the plains which he was unfamiliar he was eager at the chance. Every minute detail was a well of knowledge and he thirsted for new and unexplored adventures. Even if such adventures would be dangerous. But there was a horse, a horse that he got to ride on. It may have been a bit humorous to some; watching a grown man, a very short grown man, becoming elated in his own, steely way at any opportunity to climb atop a hooved beast and merely bask in it's presence. Though perhaps none of them truly understood the profound excitement that came to one such as the Enchanter, whom had never seen a horse nonetheless ridden one until he had been summoned to the Conclave.
Atop a horse was where he sat now, even as the animal idly walked in a rhythmic gate which he was becoming accustomed to he wrote of the day's happenings in his journal. For the sake of the Inquisition he had volunteered to assist in a scouting party clearing the outskirts of the Hinterlands of bandits, darkspawn, Venatori and rebels and marking Rifts down on a map. The party in question was not far off fininshing the setting of a camp, but he was not content to sit in a single place long; his eyes were too wanting of visions of a world he hadn't seen.
Even as the sound of metal plated boots approached he was content to stare over the unfamiliar lands, fingers now idly stroking the mane of the horse he rode. After a moment he finally looked down, greeting the face with a polite smile. Though the world at large seemed to have mages and templars, rebels and loyalists alike, hinging on the chance to jump at each other's throats, he was oddly at ease in her presence. Truth be told he was more comfortable knowing there were those who would ignore such petty problems as a rebellion when the world itself was being threatened.
❝Captain, how are you?❞
