( Like you deserve it, and the only response is that she does, that the shoe fits, that she gets annoyed and rolls her eyes but never says anything because she's the monster people tell children hides under their beds. )
If I say that your dad is an ass would that upset you?
( Low and quiet and mad, actually, angry in a low-key kind of way, a quiet burn that she often puts out of mind but rears up somehow. Is there actually anyone out there who hasn't been screwed over by a parent somehow? Someone who hasn't been hurt by the people who were supposed to protect them? And yet you keep on loving them, sometimes, because you adored them and the adoration and the desire for approval mixes in with the hurt.
Sometimes, anyway. Sometimes. )
I don't think you failed at anything. You have a gift. I mean, I won't lie, it's a big, scary kind of thing, but it's a gift. What you can do is amazing. You're helping change your world, being here. The Inquisition is stronger for you helping. And I mean, I get... that's your dad or Orlais or whatever, but you didn't fail. Bigotry lost you something, not a failure.
( As for the other, she doesn't know the signs or circumstances. She knows hurt and heartbreak, but not specifics. )
A little, but I have not seen him in thirty years so- it's more the same upset that I would have if I found a fly in my coffee.
[ Her own wry twist at humor to hide the ache. She'd adored him. He taught her much of what it was to be a good noble, to be certain of her station but not a complete ass. To lose that at such an age-
It wasn't devastating, but it had left its mark. ]
Perhaps. But just as I did not fail because of what I am- you do not deserve to be told you are less because of what you are or what you have done.
[ With Robert- it is still not something she is comfortable discussing. She hasn't told many of him, of what happened. ]
( That's a sharp, twisting kind of hurt. She doesn't fire back a response, she waits and she exhales, and tries to wrap her head around something that isn'r totally insensitive. )
It isn't easy when the people you love let you down. I'm sorry.
( Quiet, steady. Kind of controlled, though that isn't the right word for it, when she isn't lacking control as a general rule, isn't hyper-aware beyond the Wolf. ) Maybe it'll get better, the situation with him.
( Or maybe Red should mind her own business, either or.
But she does laugh, even if it's quiet and not as happy as a laugh should sound. )
Oh, I don't know. When you're literally the monster that's inspired literature and parents to terrify their children you have a certain cultural status. Being told to take yourself for a walk is just part of the package.
( ha ha ha ha ha she hates being a fairy tale person sometimes )
It is a part of the system I am trying to change. Children show signs of magic and they were taken to Circles. Towers filled with templars that have the ability to nullify our magic. It is for our own safety, we are told- and to a degree? This is so. We wrote now and ten but it was never 'Dear Addie' as one would a child.
It was always 'Apprentice Adelaide' or 'Mage' or 'Enchanter'. Lately it has been 'Councilor' and there has been some warmth, I think, in his writing. Perhaps the distance was as much to protect himself from hurt as it was me. Perhaps he is an ass.
[ She manages a faint crack of laughter- something faintly brittle that she swallows back and tucks away. This is not entirely about her, not truly. ]
If I can look at the man that destroyed a Chantry and killed hundreds of people, a man that was as warped to me in their propaganda as you are in your literature- if I can look at him and still see a friend? If I can attempt to look upon him kindly as much as I am upset by what he did? If I can have mercy on him for what he is-
Might have been option d, all of the above. The Circles sound like they'd be a scary place for a kid to go. Maybe... it was scary for a parent to see their child be taken there, too. ( Softly, that, pensive, although she has a certain degree of what a dick still cycling in her head before she offers, a little more lightly, ) Hey, maybe I'll write him a letter and inform him that the correct title is 'Chief Captain Boss,' make sure he gets it right.
( Anders. Things that she has heard about and was horrified by and yet... they've forgiven Regina. She's pretty sure Anders crimes could pale in comparison to the acts of the Evil Queen. )
Right. ( How can she say this? With a quiet, cheeky kind of cheer, obviously. ) Well, you hang out with a spirit of Compassion, and I'm a dirty, dirty hypocrit. ( She's gotten very good at saying this stuff lightly. )
But, hey, sometimes I have good days. I just... wonder. If you start forgiving yourself and eventually you start crossing lines, or something. How do you forgive yourself for hurt you did for other people? That's not my forgiveness to give. Forgiving other people for wrongs is... I mean, it's not easier, but it's not like you're letting yourself off a hook that you probably have a place on, either.
[ Now that startles a soft laugh out of her, something less brittle, less uncertain. ] Please do, and inform me of his response.
Having a Spirit of Compassion as my partner has made me no less hypocritical, Red.
[ It has made her more aware of her own hypocrisy as it is a cruel thing to both herself and those she holds such things against- the continual weight of disappointment heavy on her shoulders when she slips so far to either preserve her own feelings or stand on principle. Double standards are, apparently even for her, a thing. It is difficult to move past them. She might never manage it, she's made it this far without having to change overmuch without being forced into it. ]
Don't tempt me, my speciality is scandalising parental figures.
( Mostly her own, but you know. )
Maybe not, but I have the feeling that there's a reason a spirit like that'd choose to partner with you, right? You do more good.
( Annnnd a long exhale, and a laugh that sounds sort of-- well. Guilty. )
I don't expect anyone to have answers for me. I have to find those on my own. ( Which is, incidentally, why she left Storybrooke and tried to get back to the Enchanted Forest. Her pack, answers, a solution to whatever it was that was missing and made her feel so desolate. )
Sorry. I meant to call you with comedic observations about the Mire and instead we stumbled into a conversation all about me. Again.
It would likely take more than that to scandalize him, he has been at court and a player of The Game for longer than I have been alive.
[ How it is, exactly, he's managed not to get himself killed as well with some of what her mother does is something of a mystery that she refuses to contemplate. That is not her life any longer, for all that they are attempting to call her back into it. They had their month, it came to nothing, she is moving forward. ]
I...never truly asked them why. I suppose I've come to take them for granted. [ That they will be there for her when she has need of them, that she can call and they will answer. ] But...if you would rather not discuss yourself quite so much- I've some time while this potion brews. If there is any thing you would like to know of me, you may ask.
[ She may or may not answer but- if a shift in topic would help Red? She is happy to offer them both this distraction. The upcoming ritual weighs heavily upon her mind. Three for three they have been turned back upon the casters. They will need more muscle for the next. ]
Right. With the fancy party and the masks and everything? Sounds pretty intense.
( And petty. And... noble. Nobles playing games while people tried to put bread on the table and make sure those nobles didn't take their houses when they couldn't squeeze enough money out of them.
Not all nobles are like that, she knows that, and yet those memories from when she was a girl and had to steal from market steal leave a certain mark of shame on her. )
Maybe you should, I mean, if you've ever wondered. Could be kind of enlightening?
( Red hums, then, and settles herself back against the wall of this once-house that she's taken up camp in. )
Mmm. [ There's the sound of creaking wood as she shifts in her chair, of cotton sliding on worn silk as she tucks her legs up under her. The dull clink of ceramic from her mug of tea. The potion will take some time and she wearies of looking at her notes. This is...strange, but preferable. ]
Is that a thing one has as an adult? There are colors I find myself in more often than not, blues and whites which comes as no surprise as they belong as much to the Spire as they do my family's crest- red on occasion but that is less a choice and more an occupational hazard.
[ As a healer she ends up covered in red more often than not, should things be dire. ]
You are talking to someone who's gone by a colour since she was a teen.
( Laughing, though more at herself than at Adelaide. ) On the other hand my best friend is called Snow White and we used to - ( plot? ) - work with someone called Blue, so maybe that's just a thing back home.
Blue and white suits you, though. They're... calm. I mean, not to detract from your very impressive swearing when the moment strikes, but they're calm.
( more importantly: ) Still didn't answer my question, unless you think you're too cool and mature for a favourite colour?
[ And when addressed as such she's being called that more than once. It makes some strange sense why the house motto is 'Sans Tache'. Any stain shows doubly well on white. ]
One of my instructors was adamant that if one is going to be so vulgar as to sear, you might as well do it with precision and emphasis. [ She affects a somewhat stilted tone, more upright and posh, thicker Orlesian. ] 'In other words, make it count, bitch.'
[ The memory twists something fond and aching- she does not know if that instructor survived the spire. There are still so many she can't account for- it's distracting. But only momentarily. ]
I simply have not thought of it for some time. I think, perhaps- Violet. Not the more spring pastel lavender, but the sort that is close to indigo when the sun sets? Cool enough for me to get away with wearing, but close enough to red where it counts.
You make a compelling point. ( That she is going to ignore, that playful tone says, although she actually has zero ideas what the debate that are supposedly having could even be. It's in the same vein that she continues, scandalised. )
Wow Adelaide, and here I thought you'd never make a dog joke at me. ( She's the worst. Why is Adelaide even still talking to her. ) But it's true. Loses its punch if you over do it. You need to really work the enunciation for full impact.
( Red laughs quietly, and shakes her head. Violet, of all the colours. She doesn't need to go into the tales of her childhood rivalry with Violet, however. Utterly (not even remotely) serious; ) And as for violent, I like it. Approved, your favourite colour can stay.
( Humming, she considers her next question. ) This is harder without the same pop culture references. Normally my go to is, what's your favourite David Bowie record?
[ She was quoting! Adelaide scowls into her tea and huffs faintly, caught out and scrambling for footing- even in jest. After so heavy a conversation on whether or not a thing should be done or said- she went and said such a thing. ]
It is important to cite one's references.
[ Stiffly, though it eases somewhat when it seems Red is taking it in stride. With good humor. That is- that is good. That she has not mistepped quite so badly in this. ]
I shall sleep easily, knowing I have your approval. [ If she sleeps tonight at all. It is something of a toss up. ] Favorite memory? Ah- Before, during, or after the Spire?
I find myself slightly less concerned with your catching cold, now.
[ And slightly more in favor of the same, petty a thought as it is. Contrary to Red's voice, there is less teasing and more vague irritation- but only the default level of affront found when she missteps. It is not so infrequent a thing she's overly wounded. ]
One of each. Mm. Before...I was a child, so it is less clear.
[ She takes a moment and sips her tea, considering her options but one continues to come back around in bright, cozy warmth. ]
A benefit of having a noble family: we've more than one estate, yes? The one in Val Royeaux which is large and grand and has lasted through generations and on and on much like that as my mother would describe it- very much for show. Pristine and polished with not so much as a sprig of ivy out of place in the garden. But further north and east, close to Val Chevain we've a smaller estate- more a stretch of private land and something I thought was a cottage until I saw what an actual cottage looked like. On the shore of the waking sea. In Val Royeaux we had the family and the estate staff, maids and cooks and serving girls and valets- in the cottage it was only us. Family and perhaps a few footmen to help us unpack, guards that kept to the gatehouse. There we had no true expectations- we did not need to be perfect little noble children, we did not need to play the Game. My father would cook horribly, my mother would complain of how he burnt the bread and used far too much butter for the first day or two before she stirred herself to do the same.
It was a way to keep in touch with our merchant roots, or so they would say. I do not know how true that might be but- playing on the beach with my sisters and not worrying about if I was doing it right; swimming, laying on an old worn carpet that smelled of rosewater from where my grandmother spilled a jar when she was a girl while my father spun tales either from literature or his own imagination? It was lovely. They still spend time there, now and then- I would receive letters from my sisters and mother addressed from the cottage. Once Lilianne sent me a packet of sand and seashells from the beach- it was before my harrowing, I think I was, perhaps, thirteen? They all would pick at me so for not doing things properly before I was shown to be a mage. I think she was trying to apologize.
I'm like a human-canine furnace. Cold-resistent in many senses.
( Somehow that sounds gently apologetic, while still amused. She's a master.
Red's near silent as she listens, idly fiddling with the leather bands at her wrist. She likes the way they smell, earthy and sweet in that strange way that only leather seems to have. It's a smell that goes with straw and barnes and horses, smells that are comforting enough to be grounding. )
Val Royeaux sounds different from any place I've ever seen, ( an eventual admission, shaking her head at herself. She's seen some grand places, sure, but in a strange way that city is starting to sound kind of sterile from what people say. Not a place for wild animals.
That said, for all her quietness she can't help a quiet chuckle at the comment about Adelaide's father and his attempts to cook. )
I've always liked the sea. It's kind of wild, you know?
( It was interesting to imagine Adelaide who seemed so calm (despite swearing, despite torn robes and piecing Red back together in the Fade and inhabiting healing tents) in a place that was rougher, somehow. )
Sounds pretty great. Do you think you'll go visit it again? I mean-- you're out of the Circle, now. Might be time to start a superior shell collection.
It is a marvel. A city that is less a city and more living art, beautiful, perfect, and of infinite interpretations. There is a reason so many noble families have more than one estate. What you have in Val Royeaux is for show, a sign of wealth or status or influence- what you have for yourself is elsewhere. I do not have many memories of the estate there save for the garden. It is a bit impossible to forget it.
[ Where her magic manifested, the fountain glittering, frozen solid in the summer's night air. She'd been terrified, then. That she'd been whisked off to the Spire had not helped quite so much. ]
Ah...perhaps? I do not know. It would be pleasant to return but- a great deal of what made it wonderful for me was having my family present. Now my sisters are scattered across Thedas with their own families and my parents are busying themselves with my brother's marriage in Val Royeaux. [ Maybe if she took some of her new family with her, though. Shared that safe haven with them. ] With the Civil war as it is- I do not even know if it would be safe. There is a stalemate, or so I have heard but...I do not know.
Larger than life, kind of. ( Cautious, that. Admiring and amazed and cautious. ) I mean-- it just sounds so wild that there's an entire city like that. Art isn't real. Art is a construction, even if it's a beautiful one. And there's... ( She pauses, licks her lips as she tries to work out how she wants to try and articulate it. ) There's ideas about art informing life and life informing art. It's... I mean it's kind of amazing that there's this city that's like art, right? I mean, I wonder.... I wonder how much Val Royeaux feeds off all these things you hear about Orlais, or if it's the other way around, or... something.
( Unseen as it is, she closes her eyes, and huffs out a quiet, ) Sorry. Off topic.
( Sounds like shut up Ruby, no one cares. )
True. But, I mean, if you wait for things to be safe then sometimes you don't get to do anything at all. Not that charging into a civil war is a good idea, just, you know. You can't put off living and stuff.
Exactly. It is beautiful, but it is also a lie, much like the masks most Orlesians prefer. We do not bother with them in the Circle for we are stripped of our titles and our positions in our families as mages. It is irreverent. An enterprising mage may still make a name for themselves in court much like Vivienne, a few of my peers chose that life for their own- it held little interest for me. I could not be a courtier, why should I bother?
[ But she could be a mage. A healer. A researcher- and thus she swore to be the best she could possibly manage. ]
But that- that is my 'before' memory. Simple, perhaps but- it brings me joy. During, now...
[ She takes another moment of consideration, gliding past the suggestion she seek out the cottage. When would she have the time? She would not and thus, it is irrelevant. No matter how much she might wish it otherwise.
For something of the Spire- her research, her students, her mentors- all of it is tinged with that bitter uncertainty- anything of Robert aches just as well. Something else entirely, then. ]
I suppose anything connected to work or research or academics in general is a bit dry and dull- but my preferred element is ice, yes? You have seen this. Normally when a mage manifests their power they do so with an element and that is where their skill lies in the beginning of their training. It is not impossible for a mage to master all elements in the Primal School of magic, but focusing on the one and becoming as best as I possibly can in it is...more or less how I tend to operate when I am learning or working. Something I do to focus or to help relax myself is craft small figures in ice, it does not take mana, it does not take space, and it is an excellent way of clearing my mind when I am stressed. Someone asked me once if I could not work in glass and make permanent sculptures.
I did not think it possible for the longest time, it requires heat and an affinity for such, my skills have never truly been there- but I toyed with the idea all the same. It was only after a galzier visited to replace a window one of the other apprentices shattered on accident that I had an opportunity to work with glass that was already molten- when I did not need to heat it myself. In it's fluid state? I could work it much as I could work the water in my figurines of ice. I nearly burned myself terribly stopping half way through the sculpture, I was so shocked- and so proud of myself for learning this thing. My mentors had told me it wouldn't be possible to use the principles for one method of magic on something so deeply tied to another- the molten glass and yet- [ She huffs a soft laugh. ] Ah, I proved them wrong. Thus began my lifelong habit of attempting to find alternative applications for magics aside from that which we were taught. It is not so terribly narrowminded, the circle- but it can be stifling, no? To learn the one way and never deviate.
But learning that not only I could- but that if I managed what it was I put my mind to make so- I would be praised for it? That was a fine moment.
You look better without a mask, anyway. ( Which is, when she plays it back to herself, kind of forward. Possibly accidentally insulting, and she mouths a silent nothing word to herself for a few agonisingly long seconds before she tries to very casually cover it. ) I mean, you're beautiful, so a mask would be... less...
( Uggghhh. ) Court is overrated. ( With certainty, and a hope to salvage this from her own fumbling bluntness. ) I mean, the dresses are beautiful and the dancing is definitely a sight to see, but I never really felt like that part of things was my scene.
( And that was fine, even if Snow liked to get her to go to these balls and fancy affairs when she and Grumpy were better suited to drinking ale in the gardens.
Anyway, listening. Listening is good. )
Wait, you can just-- you can sculpt glass? Really? ( Quiet and awed, that. Adelaide can sculpt glass, and she taught herself. Red muses a little, as she lies there on the floor of a battered shack, and exhales a slow breath. More creation, really, seems to make sense. It kind of fits with the image of Adelaide she's starting to build in her head - creating and repairing, rather than destroying. )
That's really cool, Adelaide. That's like--- I mean, you create stuff. You put people back together and you create stuff, that's amazing.
( Magic has seemed destructive for so long. Dangerous, really, and it's a kind of strange and wonderful thing to be presented with ways where it's not, and she's not sure she's articulating it all that well. )
Thank you. [ She takes it in the spirit it is intended, and there's that word again, intent but Red truly seems complimentary. And while she is unaccustomed to such compliments when she is this deep in her work mentality it does not register quite so deeply to cause a fluster.
And then Red continues. And it registers. And on her end of the line Adelaide goes ever so slightly pink. ]
Ah- yes. Court is overrated. Something I have to endure, now, if I mean to make use of my name and family's influence to help the mages of the Inquisition and the Inquisition at large. [ And the dancing had been lovely. She does not have near enough opportunities to dance- but it is a waste of time. ]
Well, yes? It takes a great deal more focus and precision than my ice sculptures, but in its molten state glass is quite fluid, though more viscous than water- a bit like working with honey or syrup- which I have sculpted as well on a dare. Usually in a shape that we would pour wine or brandy in the top of that had a slide so it would pick up the flavor of whatever I'd frozen as it traveled down to a glass. Or our mouths. Depending on how intoxicated we were.
[ ah, youth. ]
It is nice to hear you approve- I have long been a part of a fraternity of mages that insists that magic ought to be used to help others and tends to frown on using it in ways that seem frivolous. Sculpting is...it helps no one, truly, it is not entirely productive beyond an exercise in precision and focus. Aside from the weekly lessons in ice sculpting, I do not often have the time.
( Thank God this is a conversation via crystal, or she'd spontaneously gain access to the Fade just so the ground could swallow her up, probably. )
Ah, hah. That sounds like a party I'd want to go to. Something to remember for cocktail testing, maybe.
( It sounds like a party Ruby would want to go to. Sometimes it's still strange reconiling the part of her that prefers to be alone and isolated and the part that wanted to be the centre of the crowd, to be seen. Red sipped wine that one of their neighbours made, Ruby could outdrink grown men twice her size and still win a game of pool. It's strange, being two people, even without the Wolf prowling underneath the surface. )
Please, I have no illusions about my opinions really having a place. ( She says it easily and lightly, dismissive without falling into self-pity. At least, not audibly doing so. In this world her opinions had no weight or worth. Not even back in Storybrooke, where even if people had known Red and knew the part she played always remembered Ruby, first. Her opinions were like air. Her existence felt like air, sometimes, something that could be passed through with no consequence. )
But, I don't know. Isn't... I mean, frivolity can be sort of what makes life living, right? Otherwise we're just surviving, and that's not really enough. Making beautiful things is worth doing. Doing something that gives you satisfaction and peace of mind, totally worth doing. I mean, saying frivolous stuff is bad is kind of like saying food shouldn't have any flavour, right? You can survive on it, but where's the fun? Life should be fun.
( hi her opinions don't matter but she still has convictions about them )
I made a study of it, comparing what went best with which frozen slide. Those notes may yet be in the Spire.
[ If they were not burned. How she kept her head well enough to take accurate notes- she honestly can't say. After the first hour it all blurred into 'tastes more pink' and 'needs more sugar'. ]
Contrary to what you think, they do. Magic is- in your world it seems to have a great impact on many things. Here it is widespread enough to be a problem, but not so much that everyone is aware of it enough to be comfortable. The things we are capable of- I am under no illusions. Mages are inherently dangerous if untrained. And everyone knows it- you have your tales of what you are, the wolf, that everyone knows? Educated or not, peasant or noble- assumptions are made of mages. That we are monsters, that we are demons waiting to happen. My whole life what I can do, even the healing, the creating- it is tinged with that. People see a mage and think 'oh, she'll turn me into a frog' or something like that.
Apostates see me and think I wish to make them think the way I do, like a Circle mage with our rules and means and politics. But you... [ a specific you, a general you, who knows? She will not say. ] You have no such reservations. It is a refreshing change of pace, to be appreciated without fear. To have someone see or hear of what I can do and not be afraid. It means a great deal to me, Red.
[ More than she can properly articulate at the moment- it is selfish, perhaps, that she wishes to spend more time around rifters if only so they might continue to treat her with the same lack of fear or concern that she cannot find among those of her world...and she is not certain she truly cares. ]
Magic is meant to serve man, not rule over him. We are taught to fear our skills in the South. That we are dangerous, that if we are not careful we will become abominations. That fear...makes taking joy in what I am able to do difficult. It makes using magic for anything more than what must be done feel...wasteful? Risky. When I first came to Skyhold I was loathe to do so. Magic is for healing, for building, for teaching. Not for sculpting or frivolity. I suppose in a way this ties into one of my favored memories of after.
It's-- I mean, I think before the Dark Curse it might have been the same as here, except some people didn't even believe in witches and wizards. They knew stories about the Dark One, but... when you grew up in a village in the middle of nowhere, a lot of stuff seemed like maybe it was far fetched. But once you start looking, or... once you knew, you could see it more.
( She goes quiet for a second. ) I can't lie, magic scares me. I've seen things. I mean, I-- I have two different lives that were completely separate and I'm still trying to learn how to reconcile them. Magic did that. I lost who I was, but I... I got a chance to not be Red for a while, too, and that was kind of great. For a while I got to be someone who hadn't killed people and just wanted to see the world and figure herself out. The Dark Curse was meant to take away everyone's happy endings and tear them apart, but...
( But she wonders, sometimes, if she was happier. She knows she was happier, being someone else. )
So, I don't know. I think magic's dangerous. But I also know true love's kiss saved my best friend from a Sleeping Curse, and that wishes being granted can give some people purpose and freedom, they aren't all contracts to take your firstborn child. I mean, fire can burn you, but it can warm you through, too?
( A long sigh. ) I'm not explaining this very well. I think learning how to use something you have is important. If I hadn't been taught how to embrace the Wolf then I'd--
( Be dead, she suspects. ) -- have turned out very differently. Knowing how to be the Wolf without hurting people gives me freedom, and it gives me a way to protect people. But I don't want to be caged up for being a wolf, either.
So maybe some fear isn't bad? I mean, it's smart to be a little afraid of fire. But fire does so much more, right? I'm not saying people should go out and start juggling fire, either, I just think... the world would be worse if we were only afraid of fire and only ever used it practically. We wouldn't have a lot of stuff if we didn't learn to look at it differently.
( She is shaking her head at herself, and her voice is slightly muffled because her hand is resting over her face. ) Some words don't sound like words any more, God. Basically there's a place between ripping people's hearts out on a whim and trying to destroy the world and between living never having fun ever. That's the more succinct way to say all that.
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If I say that your dad is an ass would that upset you?
( Low and quiet and mad, actually, angry in a low-key kind of way, a quiet burn that she often puts out of mind but rears up somehow. Is there actually anyone out there who hasn't been screwed over by a parent somehow? Someone who hasn't been hurt by the people who were supposed to protect them? And yet you keep on loving them, sometimes, because you adored them and the adoration and the desire for approval mixes in with the hurt.
Sometimes, anyway. Sometimes. )
I don't think you failed at anything. You have a gift. I mean, I won't lie, it's a big, scary kind of thing, but it's a gift. What you can do is amazing. You're helping change your world, being here. The Inquisition is stronger for you helping. And I mean, I get... that's your dad or Orlais or whatever, but you didn't fail. Bigotry lost you something, not a failure.
( As for the other, she doesn't know the signs or circumstances. She knows hurt and heartbreak, but not specifics. )
You didn't fail. You're human.
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[ Her own wry twist at humor to hide the ache. She'd adored him. He taught her much of what it was to be a good noble, to be certain of her station but not a complete ass. To lose that at such an age-
It wasn't devastating, but it had left its mark. ]
Perhaps. But just as I did not fail because of what I am- you do not deserve to be told you are less because of what you are or what you have done.
[ With Robert- it is still not something she is comfortable discussing. She hasn't told many of him, of what happened. ]
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It isn't easy when the people you love let you down. I'm sorry.
( Quiet, steady. Kind of controlled, though that isn't the right word for it, when she isn't lacking control as a general rule, isn't hyper-aware beyond the Wolf. ) Maybe it'll get better, the situation with him.
( Or maybe Red should mind her own business, either or.
But she does laugh, even if it's quiet and not as happy as a laugh should sound. )
Oh, I don't know. When you're literally the monster that's inspired literature and parents to terrify their children you have a certain cultural status. Being told to take yourself for a walk is just part of the package.
( ha ha ha ha ha she hates being a fairy tale person sometimes )
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It was always 'Apprentice Adelaide' or 'Mage' or 'Enchanter'. Lately it has been 'Councilor' and there has been some warmth, I think, in his writing. Perhaps the distance was as much to protect himself from hurt as it was me. Perhaps he is an ass.
[ She manages a faint crack of laughter- something faintly brittle that she swallows back and tucks away. This is not entirely about her, not truly. ]
If I can look at the man that destroyed a Chantry and killed hundreds of people, a man that was as warped to me in their propaganda as you are in your literature- if I can look at him and still see a friend? If I can attempt to look upon him kindly as much as I am upset by what he did? If I can have mercy on him for what he is-
How can you have any less for yourself?
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( Softly, that, pensive, although she has a certain degree of what a dick still cycling in her head before she offers, a little more lightly, ) Hey, maybe I'll write him a letter and inform him that the correct title is 'Chief Captain Boss,' make sure he gets it right.
( Anders. Things that she has heard about and was horrified by and yet... they've forgiven Regina. She's pretty sure Anders crimes could pale in comparison to the acts of the Evil Queen. )
Right. ( How can she say this? With a quiet, cheeky kind of cheer, obviously. )
Well, you hang out with a spirit of Compassion, and I'm a dirty, dirty hypocrit. ( She's gotten very good at saying this stuff lightly. )
But, hey, sometimes I have good days. I just... wonder. If you start forgiving yourself and eventually you start crossing lines, or something. How do you forgive yourself for hurt you did for other people? That's not my forgiveness to give. Forgiving other people for wrongs is... I mean, it's not easier, but it's not like you're letting yourself off a hook that you probably have a place on, either.
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Having a Spirit of Compassion as my partner has made me no less hypocritical, Red.
[ It has made her more aware of her own hypocrisy as it is a cruel thing to both herself and those she holds such things against- the continual weight of disappointment heavy on her shoulders when she slips so far to either preserve her own feelings or stand on principle. Double standards are, apparently even for her, a thing. It is difficult to move past them. She might never manage it, she's made it this far without having to change overmuch without being forced into it. ]
I- wish I had an answer for you. I truly do.
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( Mostly her own, but you know. )
Maybe not, but I have the feeling that there's a reason a spirit like that'd choose to partner with you, right? You do more good.
( Annnnd a long exhale, and a laugh that sounds sort of-- well. Guilty. )
I don't expect anyone to have answers for me. I have to find those on my own. ( Which is, incidentally, why she left Storybrooke and tried to get back to the Enchanted Forest. Her pack, answers, a solution to whatever it was that was missing and made her feel so desolate. )
Sorry. I meant to call you with comedic observations about the Mire and instead we stumbled into a conversation all about me. Again.
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[ How it is, exactly, he's managed not to get himself killed as well with some of what her mother does is something of a mystery that she refuses to contemplate. That is not her life any longer, for all that they are attempting to call her back into it. They had their month, it came to nothing, she is moving forward. ]
I...never truly asked them why. I suppose I've come to take them for granted. [ That they will be there for her when she has need of them, that she can call and they will answer. ] But...if you would rather not discuss yourself quite so much- I've some time while this potion brews. If there is any thing you would like to know of me, you may ask.
[ She may or may not answer but- if a shift in topic would help Red? She is happy to offer them both this distraction. The upcoming ritual weighs heavily upon her mind. Three for three they have been turned back upon the casters. They will need more muscle for the next. ]
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( And petty. And... noble. Nobles playing games while people tried to put bread on the table and make sure those nobles didn't take their houses when they couldn't squeeze enough money out of them.
Not all nobles are like that, she knows that, and yet those memories from when she was a girl and had to steal from market steal leave a certain mark of shame on her. )
Maybe you should, I mean, if you've ever wondered. Could be kind of enlightening?
( Red hums, then, and settles herself back against the wall of this once-house that she's taken up camp in. )
Okay. Favourite colour?
( Red, please )
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Is that a thing one has as an adult? There are colors I find myself in more often than not, blues and whites which comes as no surprise as they belong as much to the Spire as they do my family's crest- red on occasion but that is less a choice and more an occupational hazard.
[ As a healer she ends up covered in red more often than not, should things be dire. ]
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( Laughing, though more at herself than at Adelaide. ) On the other hand my best friend is called Snow White and we used to - ( plot? ) - work with someone called Blue, so maybe that's just a thing back home.
Blue and white suits you, though. They're... calm. I mean, not to detract from your very impressive swearing when the moment strikes, but they're calm.
( more importantly: ) Still didn't answer my question, unless you think you're too cool and mature for a favourite colour?
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[ And when addressed as such she's being called that more than once. It makes some strange sense why the house motto is 'Sans Tache'. Any stain shows doubly well on white. ]
One of my instructors was adamant that if one is going to be so vulgar as to sear, you might as well do it with precision and emphasis. [ She affects a somewhat stilted tone, more upright and posh, thicker Orlesian. ] 'In other words, make it count, bitch.'
[ The memory twists something fond and aching- she does not know if that instructor survived the spire. There are still so many she can't account for- it's distracting. But only momentarily. ]
I simply have not thought of it for some time. I think, perhaps- Violet. Not the more spring pastel lavender, but the sort that is close to indigo when the sun sets? Cool enough for me to get away with wearing, but close enough to red where it counts.
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Wow Adelaide, and here I thought you'd never make a dog joke at me. ( She's the worst. Why is Adelaide even still talking to her. ) But it's true. Loses its punch if you over do it. You need to really work the enunciation for full impact.
( Red laughs quietly, and shakes her head. Violet, of all the colours. She doesn't need to go into the tales of her childhood rivalry with Violet, however. Utterly (not even remotely) serious; ) And as for violent, I like it. Approved, your favourite colour can stay.
( Humming, she considers her next question. ) This is harder without the same pop culture references. Normally my go to is, what's your favourite David Bowie record?
( A sigh, wistful. ) Favourite memory?
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[ She was quoting! Adelaide scowls into her tea and huffs faintly, caught out and scrambling for footing- even in jest. After so heavy a conversation on whether or not a thing should be done or said- she went and said such a thing. ]
It is important to cite one's references.
[ Stiffly, though it eases somewhat when it seems Red is taking it in stride. With good humor. That is- that is good. That she has not mistepped quite so badly in this. ]
I shall sleep easily, knowing I have your approval. [ If she sleeps tonight at all. It is something of a toss up. ] Favorite memory? Ah- Before, during, or after the Spire?
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( Her voice is rich with teasing, and she can't quite help a quiet laugh at Adelaide's huffing and horror. ) Although the reaction was worth it.
( What a jerk. )
Huh. What about... each? Is that too demanding? Or you can pick, lady's choice.
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[ And slightly more in favor of the same, petty a thought as it is. Contrary to Red's voice, there is less teasing and more vague irritation- but only the default level of affront found when she missteps. It is not so infrequent a thing she's overly wounded. ]
One of each. Mm. Before...I was a child, so it is less clear.
[ She takes a moment and sips her tea, considering her options but one continues to come back around in bright, cozy warmth. ]
A benefit of having a noble family: we've more than one estate, yes? The one in Val Royeaux which is large and grand and has lasted through generations and on and on much like that as my mother would describe it- very much for show. Pristine and polished with not so much as a sprig of ivy out of place in the garden. But further north and east, close to Val Chevain we've a smaller estate- more a stretch of private land and something I thought was a cottage until I saw what an actual cottage looked like. On the shore of the waking sea. In Val Royeaux we had the family and the estate staff, maids and cooks and serving girls and valets- in the cottage it was only us. Family and perhaps a few footmen to help us unpack, guards that kept to the gatehouse. There we had no true expectations- we did not need to be perfect little noble children, we did not need to play the Game. My father would cook horribly, my mother would complain of how he burnt the bread and used far too much butter for the first day or two before she stirred herself to do the same.
It was a way to keep in touch with our merchant roots, or so they would say. I do not know how true that might be but- playing on the beach with my sisters and not worrying about if I was doing it right; swimming, laying on an old worn carpet that smelled of rosewater from where my grandmother spilled a jar when she was a girl while my father spun tales either from literature or his own imagination? It was lovely. They still spend time there, now and then- I would receive letters from my sisters and mother addressed from the cottage. Once Lilianne sent me a packet of sand and seashells from the beach- it was before my harrowing, I think I was, perhaps, thirteen? They all would pick at me so for not doing things properly before I was shown to be a mage. I think she was trying to apologize.
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( Somehow that sounds gently apologetic, while still amused. She's a master.
Red's near silent as she listens, idly fiddling with the leather bands at her wrist. She likes the way they smell, earthy and sweet in that strange way that only leather seems to have. It's a smell that goes with straw and barnes and horses, smells that are comforting enough to be grounding. )
Val Royeaux sounds different from any place I've ever seen, ( an eventual admission, shaking her head at herself. She's seen some grand places, sure, but in a strange way that city is starting to sound kind of sterile from what people say. Not a place for wild animals.
That said, for all her quietness she can't help a quiet chuckle at the comment about Adelaide's father and his attempts to cook. )
I've always liked the sea. It's kind of wild, you know?
( It was interesting to imagine Adelaide who seemed so calm (despite swearing, despite torn robes and piecing Red back together in the Fade and inhabiting healing tents) in a place that was rougher, somehow. )
Sounds pretty great. Do you think you'll go visit it again? I mean-- you're out of the Circle, now. Might be time to start a superior shell collection.
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[ Where her magic manifested, the fountain glittering, frozen solid in the summer's night air. She'd been terrified, then. That she'd been whisked off to the Spire had not helped quite so much. ]
Ah...perhaps? I do not know. It would be pleasant to return but- a great deal of what made it wonderful for me was having my family present. Now my sisters are scattered across Thedas with their own families and my parents are busying themselves with my brother's marriage in Val Royeaux. [ Maybe if she took some of her new family with her, though. Shared that safe haven with them. ] With the Civil war as it is- I do not even know if it would be safe. There is a stalemate, or so I have heard but...I do not know.
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( Unseen as it is, she closes her eyes, and huffs out a quiet, ) Sorry. Off topic.
( Sounds like shut up Ruby, no one cares. )
True. But, I mean, if you wait for things to be safe then sometimes you don't get to do anything at all. Not that charging into a civil war is a good idea, just, you know. You can't put off living and stuff.
( #hypocrisy )
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[ But she could be a mage. A healer. A researcher- and thus she swore to be the best she could possibly manage. ]
But that- that is my 'before' memory. Simple, perhaps but- it brings me joy. During, now...
[ She takes another moment of consideration, gliding past the suggestion she seek out the cottage. When would she have the time? She would not and thus, it is irrelevant. No matter how much she might wish it otherwise.
For something of the Spire- her research, her students, her mentors- all of it is tinged with that bitter uncertainty- anything of Robert aches just as well. Something else entirely, then. ]
I suppose anything connected to work or research or academics in general is a bit dry and dull- but my preferred element is ice, yes? You have seen this. Normally when a mage manifests their power they do so with an element and that is where their skill lies in the beginning of their training. It is not impossible for a mage to master all elements in the Primal School of magic, but focusing on the one and becoming as best as I possibly can in it is...more or less how I tend to operate when I am learning or working. Something I do to focus or to help relax myself is craft small figures in ice, it does not take mana, it does not take space, and it is an excellent way of clearing my mind when I am stressed. Someone asked me once if I could not work in glass and make permanent sculptures.
I did not think it possible for the longest time, it requires heat and an affinity for such, my skills have never truly been there- but I toyed with the idea all the same. It was only after a galzier visited to replace a window one of the other apprentices shattered on accident that I had an opportunity to work with glass that was already molten- when I did not need to heat it myself. In it's fluid state? I could work it much as I could work the water in my figurines of ice. I nearly burned myself terribly stopping half way through the sculpture, I was so shocked- and so proud of myself for learning this thing. My mentors had told me it wouldn't be possible to use the principles for one method of magic on something so deeply tied to another- the molten glass and yet- [ She huffs a soft laugh. ] Ah, I proved them wrong. Thus began my lifelong habit of attempting to find alternative applications for magics aside from that which we were taught. It is not so terribly narrowminded, the circle- but it can be stifling, no? To learn the one way and never deviate.
But learning that not only I could- but that if I managed what it was I put my mind to make so- I would be praised for it? That was a fine moment.
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( Uggghhh. ) Court is overrated. ( With certainty, and a hope to salvage this from her own fumbling bluntness. ) I mean, the dresses are beautiful and the dancing is definitely a sight to see, but I never really felt like that part of things was my scene.
( And that was fine, even if Snow liked to get her to go to these balls and fancy affairs when she and Grumpy were better suited to drinking ale in the gardens.
Anyway, listening. Listening is good. )
Wait, you can just-- you can sculpt glass? Really? ( Quiet and awed, that. Adelaide can sculpt glass, and she taught herself. Red muses a little, as she lies there on the floor of a battered shack, and exhales a slow breath. More creation, really, seems to make sense. It kind of fits with the image of Adelaide she's starting to build in her head - creating and repairing, rather than destroying. )
That's really cool, Adelaide. That's like--- I mean, you create stuff. You put people back together and you create stuff, that's amazing.
( Magic has seemed destructive for so long. Dangerous, really, and it's a kind of strange and wonderful thing to be presented with ways where it's not, and she's not sure she's articulating it all that well. )
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And then Red continues. And it registers. And on her end of the line Adelaide goes ever so slightly pink. ]
Ah- yes. Court is overrated. Something I have to endure, now, if I mean to make use of my name and family's influence to help the mages of the Inquisition and the Inquisition at large. [ And the dancing had been lovely. She does not have near enough opportunities to dance- but it is a waste of time. ]
Well, yes? It takes a great deal more focus and precision than my ice sculptures, but in its molten state glass is quite fluid, though more viscous than water- a bit like working with honey or syrup- which I have sculpted as well on a dare. Usually in a shape that we would pour wine or brandy in the top of that had a slide so it would pick up the flavor of whatever I'd frozen as it traveled down to a glass. Or our mouths. Depending on how intoxicated we were.
[ ah, youth. ]
It is nice to hear you approve- I have long been a part of a fraternity of mages that insists that magic ought to be used to help others and tends to frown on using it in ways that seem frivolous. Sculpting is...it helps no one, truly, it is not entirely productive beyond an exercise in precision and focus. Aside from the weekly lessons in ice sculpting, I do not often have the time.
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( Thank God this is a conversation via crystal, or she'd spontaneously gain access to the Fade just so the ground could swallow her up, probably. )
Ah, hah. That sounds like a party I'd want to go to. Something to remember for cocktail testing, maybe.
( It sounds like a party Ruby would want to go to. Sometimes it's still strange reconiling the part of her that prefers to be alone and isolated and the part that wanted to be the centre of the crowd, to be seen. Red sipped wine that one of their neighbours made, Ruby could outdrink grown men twice her size and still win a game of pool. It's strange, being two people, even without the Wolf prowling underneath the surface. )
Please, I have no illusions about my opinions really having a place. ( She says it easily and lightly, dismissive without falling into self-pity. At least, not audibly doing so. In this world her opinions had no weight or worth. Not even back in Storybrooke, where even if people had known Red and knew the part she played always remembered Ruby, first. Her opinions were like air. Her existence felt like air, sometimes, something that could be passed through with no consequence. )
But, I don't know. Isn't... I mean, frivolity can be sort of what makes life living, right? Otherwise we're just surviving, and that's not really enough. Making beautiful things is worth doing. Doing something that gives you satisfaction and peace of mind, totally worth doing. I mean, saying frivolous stuff is bad is kind of like saying food shouldn't have any flavour, right? You can survive on it, but where's the fun? Life should be fun.
( hi her opinions don't matter but she still has convictions about them )
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[ If they were not burned. How she kept her head well enough to take accurate notes- she honestly can't say. After the first hour it all blurred into 'tastes more pink' and 'needs more sugar'. ]
Contrary to what you think, they do. Magic is- in your world it seems to have a great impact on many things. Here it is widespread enough to be a problem, but not so much that everyone is aware of it enough to be comfortable. The things we are capable of- I am under no illusions. Mages are inherently dangerous if untrained. And everyone knows it- you have your tales of what you are, the wolf, that everyone knows? Educated or not, peasant or noble- assumptions are made of mages. That we are monsters, that we are demons waiting to happen. My whole life what I can do, even the healing, the creating- it is tinged with that. People see a mage and think 'oh, she'll turn me into a frog' or something like that.
Apostates see me and think I wish to make them think the way I do, like a Circle mage with our rules and means and politics. But you... [ a specific you, a general you, who knows? She will not say. ] You have no such reservations. It is a refreshing change of pace, to be appreciated without fear. To have someone see or hear of what I can do and not be afraid. It means a great deal to me, Red.
[ More than she can properly articulate at the moment- it is selfish, perhaps, that she wishes to spend more time around rifters if only so they might continue to treat her with the same lack of fear or concern that she cannot find among those of her world...and she is not certain she truly cares. ]
Magic is meant to serve man, not rule over him. We are taught to fear our skills in the South. That we are dangerous, that if we are not careful we will become abominations. That fear...makes taking joy in what I am able to do difficult. It makes using magic for anything more than what must be done feel...wasteful? Risky. When I first came to Skyhold I was loathe to do so. Magic is for healing, for building, for teaching. Not for sculpting or frivolity. I suppose in a way this ties into one of my favored memories of after.
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( Adelaide you precious precious nerd.
Well, Red makes a sound. )
It's-- I mean, I think before the Dark Curse it might have been the same as here, except some people didn't even believe in witches and wizards. They knew stories about the Dark One, but... when you grew up in a village in the middle of nowhere, a lot of stuff seemed like maybe it was far fetched. But once you start looking, or... once you knew, you could see it more.
( She goes quiet for a second. ) I can't lie, magic scares me. I've seen things. I mean, I-- I have two different lives that were completely separate and I'm still trying to learn how to reconcile them. Magic did that. I lost who I was, but I... I got a chance to not be Red for a while, too, and that was kind of great. For a while I got to be someone who hadn't killed people and just wanted to see the world and figure herself out. The Dark Curse was meant to take away everyone's happy endings and tear them apart, but...
( But she wonders, sometimes, if she was happier. She knows she was happier, being someone else. )
So, I don't know. I think magic's dangerous. But I also know true love's kiss saved my best friend from a Sleeping Curse, and that wishes being granted can give some people purpose and freedom, they aren't all contracts to take your firstborn child. I mean, fire can burn you, but it can warm you through, too?
( A long sigh. ) I'm not explaining this very well. I think learning how to use something you have is important. If I hadn't been taught how to embrace the Wolf then I'd--
( Be dead, she suspects. ) -- have turned out very differently. Knowing how to be the Wolf without hurting people gives me freedom, and it gives me a way to protect people. But I don't want to be caged up for being a wolf, either.
So maybe some fear isn't bad? I mean, it's smart to be a little afraid of fire. But fire does so much more, right? I'm not saying people should go out and start juggling fire, either, I just think... the world would be worse if we were only afraid of fire and only ever used it practically. We wouldn't have a lot of stuff if we didn't learn to look at it differently.
( She is shaking her head at herself, and her voice is slightly muffled because her hand is resting over her face. ) Some words don't sound like words any more, God. Basically there's a place between ripping people's hearts out on a whim and trying to destroy the world and between living never having fun ever. That's the more succinct way to say all that.
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