Kinship [Closed]

[Mysaria Grivia]

(( Firstfall 8, Early Afternoon Brecken Grivia ))

It had been a while since Mysaria had been able to walk through the streets of Denerim. Previous visits had mostly been straight to the compound and then out on whatever journey she had to go on next. Aerion had stayed at the compound today, some duty keeping him there, even if he did not like it. Her companion today, Roland, was someone she didn't know very well, but she found him pleasant enough to be around. He gave her some space to enjoy her walk in mostly silence, but stayed close enough that he could head off any trouble that might come her way.

They were both dressed in uniform, and Mysa was wearing a warm cloak to fight off the chill in the air. The market was a delight as always, and she picked up a few small trinkets while there, including a gift for Aerion. It was when she began to move towards the Chantry that her companion interjected himself, "It may not be the wisest course. They could see it as a taunt."

"I'm a child of the Maker, just as they are, but I'll keep my distance so as to not cause any trouble. I just want to see it." She gave him a smile, and kept her word, staying about twenty paces from the gates. It was strange to see it now, especially after her vivid memories of what Maya had done to it all those years ago. She remembered being able to walk in and pray like she was welcome, those days with Arawn and discussing the chant. How life had changed.

She paced slowly to the nearby square, still within site of the Chantry, closer to one of the walls now. This was where she had been found after her trauma, it definitely did not look like it did that day. Buildings had been refurbished, different things like benches and other street decoration had been added. Mysaria was glad she had worked through her fear and anger at what had happened, otherwise she might have had quite a reaction to seeing this place. And maybe she still would have if it looked the same.

She turned from it, and moved towards the wall around the Chantry. She touched the stone, and looked towards where the open gate was once again. She saw a man that stirred a memory in her, and her brows furrowed. He was close to the gate, though not inside it. She took a few steps forward before realizing she was moving, and shook her head. Her memories were always fuzzy, but his face reminded her of her father's?

Instead of getting too close, she called out to him, lifting her hand to get his attention, "Excuse me, may I speak with you?"

An odd way to begin a conversation, and it would be terribly awkward if he had no idea who she planned on asking him about. Still, she was compelled to at least ask.

 

[Brecken Grivia]

He could see his breath – soft puffs of air rising each time he spoke or breathed – but there was yet to be any actual snow. From the way the clouds had darkened overhead however, the Maker might very well be looking to rectify that small detail soon. At least Brecken was dressed for it; his guardsman uniform cleanly worn and visible underneath his own dark brown cloak. The proud coloring of Denerim. He had forgone the helmet as was his usual way, and considered himself in need of a haircut due to the wisps of slightly curled bangs that were blowing against his forehead.

“You needn't trouble yourself child. I know what Sister Emily was saying but this has been a,” the Chantry Sister hesitated as if trying to find the right polite words, “trying season for her. Sometimes one must take her words with...a grain of salt.” A weathered hand reached out to pat Brecken's, trying to soothe the not quite convinced look off of the guardsman's face.

“Yes, I hear you. But it is my duty to check it out – regardless of how trying the season may or may not be. So, with respect, I have to ask – have you actually seen anyone taking anything? Candlesticks or otherwise I can at the very least keep my eye out.”

“My dear boy, if I might speak frankly -” The Sister lowered her voice and moved a little closer, a hand lightly patting at his shoulder now. Easy to do considering he was a slight bit shorter than even she at her ripe age. “I would like to think the Guard would have more important tasks than to hunt down a bit of silver from the Chantry. I would also say that whoever may or may not possess a new candlestick holder...well, may the Maker smile on them and I pray it brings them a bit of warmth in the coming months.” She gave him another pat and then moved back toward the main doors of the building, leaving Brecken at the gates to grumble.

Well, at least he would not have to stalk through the Alienage and question who he could on the description Sister Emily had given him. Someone with pointed ears – the sister had made that very clear.

He shook his head, fingers rubbing the nape of his neck until a new voice called his attention. Quite literally actually.

“Excuse me, may I speak with you?”

Hazel eyes flicked toward the female vocals, catching against the warden blue color of her uniform first and foremost. Without thinking about it, his teeth found his bottom lip and gave it a small chew, wondering for but a second if Nathaniel had sent her for some reason. His gaze flit about the area as if expecting the man to step from the shadows and while she wasn't alone, the man accompanying this woman was no Nathaniel.

“What can I do for you Warden?” Brecken offered a formal greeting after gently clearing his throat, as well as his wayward thoughts on not so silver candlesticks. His gaze also took in a deeper glance to the one he was addressing, a feeling of familiarity washing over him. Nostalgic almost. Yet he had not made a habit of ever entertaining Wardens – so why would this one seem so oddly familiar? Trying not to stare as he fought to place her in his mind, he waited to hear whatever it was she needed to say.

 

[Mysaria Grivia]

Perhaps it had been a bad idea, she wasn't really fully comfortable around strangers yet. But that's what had compelled her to speak with him, wasn't it? The fact that he seemed familiar to her. So, she took a deep breath through her nose as he turned to her calling, steeling herself for the conversation.

As he approached, she gave him her best smile and a short nod of the head as if to thank him for his attention. It was then she realized he was in a guard uniform. She'd not had any bad experiences with the city guard, and it would be easier to trust someone in uniform. Thank goodness he hadn't been a templar.

“What can I do for you Warden?” he said, and she was temporarily confused, until she realized she was in uniform.

Another breath, and she was feeling a bit awkward. What could he do for her? Why did she allow herself to speak without a plan?

"Forgive me, I'll not take up too much of your time, guardsman," that was a perfectly serviceable delay tactic, and she could feel Roland watching her exchange with the man. "You look very familiar to me, but I cannot place it. As I've traveled quite a bit, it would likely be silly to ask where you are from. I don't usually have encounters where I can't remember someone's name."

She was rambling a little, and she gave a slight laugh at herself, "I said I wouldn't take up much of your time, yet here I am rambling a bit. Perhaps I should try to start over."

She straightened her shoulders, and held out her hand, "I'm Warden Mysaria Grivia, and I have the most odd sense that we've met before."