[26 Harvestmere, morning. @Cauthrien]
Cordelia woke with a headache. The young mage first attempted to lay in her bed longer than usual, but her sense of responsibility led to a deep feeling of guilt. She was a Grey Warden and needed to act accordingly. That meant training and study, regardless of whether or not her head was pounding. Which it was. Rising from her bed, Cordelia gave a groan and began to stumble through her morning routine.
A quick glance in the mirror revealed rather troubling bags under her eyes and a pale quality to her skin that prompted worry of some kind of sickness. Drawing upon all of her fortitude and the poise of her noble rearing, she managed to change into her uniform and spend a leisurely amount of time brushing her hair until it was as sleek and well managed as ever. Even if she felt dreadful, she did not have to look it. At least, not entirely. Though her condition was worrisome and gave her half a mind to locate whatever available healer was present on the compound grounds. She was about to leave for that purpose when her stomach gave a grumble that all but brought to her knees. It seemed it was time for breakfast.
If there was one thing that Cordelia was most uncomfortable with since becoming a Grey Warden, it was the hunger. Of course, the nightmares were dreadful and there was sometimes an otherworldly buzzing in her ears. But it was the hunger that she found undignified. In the Tower, she was content to eat a piece of fruit or perhaps splurge on a piece of jammed bread. Now, she was devouring bacon and oatmeals and pies as if she were a wild animal. Her mother would have fainted to see it, if she were still alive.
Nevertheless, she made her way to the mess hall and eagerly filled her plate with a variety of potatoes, griddle cakes, toast, and sausages. None of the other Wardens seemed so concerned about propriety that she felt too horrible eating her fill. More difficult was maintaining any good cheer or energy given her pounding head. By the Maker, whatever devilry was afflicting her?
Unable to endure, she stumbled over to a nearby table and made her place, taking a piece of toast and nibbling at it. She let out a sigh, leaning on one elbow and she willed the pounding in her head to go away. There would be no studying today, it would seem.
Cordelia woke with a headache. The young mage first attempted to lay in her bed longer than usual, but her sense of responsibility led to a deep feeling of guilt. She was a Grey Warden and needed to act accordingly. That meant training and study, regardless of whether or not her head was pounding. Which it was. Rising from her bed, Cordelia gave a groan and began to stumble through her morning routine.
A quick glance in the mirror revealed rather troubling bags under her eyes and a pale quality to her skin that prompted worry of some kind of sickness. Drawing upon all of her fortitude and the poise of her noble rearing, she managed to change into her uniform and spend a leisurely amount of time brushing her hair until it was as sleek and well managed as ever. Even if she felt dreadful, she did not have to look it. At least, not entirely. Though her condition was worrisome and gave her half a mind to locate whatever available healer was present on the compound grounds. She was about to leave for that purpose when her stomach gave a grumble that all but brought to her knees. It seemed it was time for breakfast.
If there was one thing that Cordelia was most uncomfortable with since becoming a Grey Warden, it was the hunger. Of course, the nightmares were dreadful and there was sometimes an otherworldly buzzing in her ears. But it was the hunger that she found undignified. In the Tower, she was content to eat a piece of fruit or perhaps splurge on a piece of jammed bread. Now, she was devouring bacon and oatmeals and pies as if she were a wild animal. Her mother would have fainted to see it, if she were still alive.
Nevertheless, she made her way to the mess hall and eagerly filled her plate with a variety of potatoes, griddle cakes, toast, and sausages. None of the other Wardens seemed so concerned about propriety that she felt too horrible eating her fill. More difficult was maintaining any good cheer or energy given her pounding head. By the Maker, whatever devilry was afflicting her?
Unable to endure, she stumbled over to a nearby table and made her place, taking a piece of toast and nibbling at it. She let out a sigh, leaning on one elbow and she willed the pounding in her head to go away. There would be no studying today, it would seem.