- Posts
- 114
[[OOC: Spread out over a few years. Starts at the di Castelbuono Estate, Antiva City, 9:08.]]
Sofia could still remember the exact cadence of Tommo’s hiss of pain. He’d snatched his hand away from the offending nail, the head sticking just enough above the tabletop to have snagged his skin. His blood had beaded up, lining the side of his hand like a series of small rubies, before beginning to run together and flow down the side of his hand. He had tried to hide that he was hurt, but his eyes had watered a little even as he smiled at her.
“It’s nothing, piccola. Just a little cut. A little wash and a poultice and it’ll heal.”
Sofia didn’t like to see her brother in pain. She’d read how she could fix it even faster than a poultice, though. In stories, and in the way Mamma had tended to all the little bruises she had got over the years. She leaned forward and kissed him, just above the cut.
Then she started to feel weird. It was as though somebody had dropped fuzzy, transparent blanket over her head; everything was soft and warm, and she heard Tommo say something but he sounded far away. Her skin fluttered like a thousand butterflies were trapped under it, but before she could work out if she liked it or not, the feeling went away. Tommo’s cut was closing, and she lifted her gaze to his with joy. She did like it.
“Look what I did!”
Tommo didn’t smile. He turned his hand over. The cut was completely healed now, only a slight red line showing where it had been and the little track of blood that was now dried on his skin. Sofia couldn’t work out what he was feeling. He didn’t look happy, and apprehension kicked at her stomach. When he did speak, his voice was quiet.
“Yes. Look at what you did.”
-
She hadn’t seen her parents in the past few hours. Or any of her siblings. Even most of the servants seemed to be missing. Her nanny, Marian, had given her a book, but she was bored with it now and she wanted to play. Marian kept sitting on the other side of the room, though, and said she was too tired. She’d never been too tired before. Sofia sat with her book in the middle of the rug, and pouted.
A bell rang at the front door of the estate, and Sofia immediately abandoned the story for the window, but Marian called her back. “Your mother and father will be having some guests soon. They’ll call you through in a bit.”
Sofia had never wanted for anything in her short life, but on the occasions she had been made to wait, she’d learned that everything would be all right as long as she was good. Sometimes she just had to be patient. So she started playing with some of her dolls instead, and kept glancing towards the door.
Just when she thought she was going to explode from waiting, there was a knock, and Miriam rushed to answer. Mamma and Papa were there, but they didn't seem happy. Mamma tried a smile, but it looked all wrong. Behind them were two templars. Mamma spoke first while Sofia was still staring at them. "Don't worry, my baby. It's going to be all right."
Her voice sounded strange. It kept going high and breaking. "Mamma? What's going on?"
Mamma knelt down and rested her hands on Sofia's shoulders. "You did magic, mi tresoro. When you healed Tommo's hand."
Sofia nodded. "Yes. Good magic! It made him better."
Mamma did that strange smile again. "It was. It was good magic, yes. You are special. And you could help many people if you learn to use it correctly. Wouldn't you like that? To make everyone better if you could?"
"Yes!" She'd heard stories of wicked mages before, and the sisters at the Chantry had shared all sorts of stories about how evil the Tevinter ones were, but this was different. It didn't mean she was a mage, just that she could do something nice. Mamma laughed, although it got stuck halfway in her throat.
"Good girl. My good, sweet girl." She ran a hand over her hair. "These gentlemen are here to take you to a special school where you can do just that. You'll stay there, so you can be with the best tutors all the time."
"Can Marian come too? Can I still do my other lessons? Will you visit a lot?" Sofia wasn't so young that she hadn't picked up on the atmosphere in the room, and she wanted to run away from it. But there was nowhere to go where there wasn't an adult blocking the way.
There was a glance between her mother and father that she didn't understand, and then Mamma's grip tightened on her shoulders. "Many things must change. But you will see us often, mi amor."
One of the templars started to speak, and Papa made a quick gesture at them. "Not here."
Marian had been moving around in the background, filling the small trunk that had been Sofia's on long journeys to visit various branches of their family during holidays. Now it was closed, and Marian came close enough to give Sofia's favourite toy, a cloth fox, to her. "Here you go. Signor Rosso will be with you all the way."
Sofia still didn't entirely follow what was going on. But her parents had never asked her to do something she didn't want to do without there being a reward eventually, and so she believed this would all turn out all right in the end. She would see them soon. She hugged her mother tightly, and then Papa lifted her up and hugged her just as firmly. She clung to him, breathing in the reassuring smell of his soap and sun-warmed skin, feeling the faint prickling of the bristles on his cheek. She wanted to stay there, but after a few minutes he beckoned one of the templars to come closer, and handed her over.
The templar who took her looked a bit like her fox. He had red hair and brown eyes, and a long nose, and he seemed kind. He held her in the crook of his elbow, smiling gently. "That's a good girl, Sofia. Not everybody is as good as you're being right now. Thank you for making this easy."
Praise was more familiar. Sofia smiled, contented, and didn't wriggle or resist when he started to carry her towards the door, his companion carrying her trunk.
There was a horse and cart outside. Another man wearing templar colours was sat in the drivnig seat, and as she was loaded into the back, she glanced over at the doorway. Mamma and Papa were there. They were both crying.
Fear stirred in her stomach, and she reached out for them, but she remembered what Mamma had said. They'd see her soon. She cuddled Signor Rosso, and crawled into the lap of the fox-templar. All the armour made his lap uncomfortable, but she curled up on his knees regardless, wanting to be close to somebody as the driver whipped up the horses and they rattled slowly out of the courtyard.
Sofia could still remember the exact cadence of Tommo’s hiss of pain. He’d snatched his hand away from the offending nail, the head sticking just enough above the tabletop to have snagged his skin. His blood had beaded up, lining the side of his hand like a series of small rubies, before beginning to run together and flow down the side of his hand. He had tried to hide that he was hurt, but his eyes had watered a little even as he smiled at her.
“It’s nothing, piccola. Just a little cut. A little wash and a poultice and it’ll heal.”
Sofia didn’t like to see her brother in pain. She’d read how she could fix it even faster than a poultice, though. In stories, and in the way Mamma had tended to all the little bruises she had got over the years. She leaned forward and kissed him, just above the cut.
Then she started to feel weird. It was as though somebody had dropped fuzzy, transparent blanket over her head; everything was soft and warm, and she heard Tommo say something but he sounded far away. Her skin fluttered like a thousand butterflies were trapped under it, but before she could work out if she liked it or not, the feeling went away. Tommo’s cut was closing, and she lifted her gaze to his with joy. She did like it.
“Look what I did!”
Tommo didn’t smile. He turned his hand over. The cut was completely healed now, only a slight red line showing where it had been and the little track of blood that was now dried on his skin. Sofia couldn’t work out what he was feeling. He didn’t look happy, and apprehension kicked at her stomach. When he did speak, his voice was quiet.
“Yes. Look at what you did.”
-
She hadn’t seen her parents in the past few hours. Or any of her siblings. Even most of the servants seemed to be missing. Her nanny, Marian, had given her a book, but she was bored with it now and she wanted to play. Marian kept sitting on the other side of the room, though, and said she was too tired. She’d never been too tired before. Sofia sat with her book in the middle of the rug, and pouted.
A bell rang at the front door of the estate, and Sofia immediately abandoned the story for the window, but Marian called her back. “Your mother and father will be having some guests soon. They’ll call you through in a bit.”
Sofia had never wanted for anything in her short life, but on the occasions she had been made to wait, she’d learned that everything would be all right as long as she was good. Sometimes she just had to be patient. So she started playing with some of her dolls instead, and kept glancing towards the door.
Just when she thought she was going to explode from waiting, there was a knock, and Miriam rushed to answer. Mamma and Papa were there, but they didn't seem happy. Mamma tried a smile, but it looked all wrong. Behind them were two templars. Mamma spoke first while Sofia was still staring at them. "Don't worry, my baby. It's going to be all right."
Her voice sounded strange. It kept going high and breaking. "Mamma? What's going on?"
Mamma knelt down and rested her hands on Sofia's shoulders. "You did magic, mi tresoro. When you healed Tommo's hand."
Sofia nodded. "Yes. Good magic! It made him better."
Mamma did that strange smile again. "It was. It was good magic, yes. You are special. And you could help many people if you learn to use it correctly. Wouldn't you like that? To make everyone better if you could?"
"Yes!" She'd heard stories of wicked mages before, and the sisters at the Chantry had shared all sorts of stories about how evil the Tevinter ones were, but this was different. It didn't mean she was a mage, just that she could do something nice. Mamma laughed, although it got stuck halfway in her throat.
"Good girl. My good, sweet girl." She ran a hand over her hair. "These gentlemen are here to take you to a special school where you can do just that. You'll stay there, so you can be with the best tutors all the time."
"Can Marian come too? Can I still do my other lessons? Will you visit a lot?" Sofia wasn't so young that she hadn't picked up on the atmosphere in the room, and she wanted to run away from it. But there was nowhere to go where there wasn't an adult blocking the way.
There was a glance between her mother and father that she didn't understand, and then Mamma's grip tightened on her shoulders. "Many things must change. But you will see us often, mi amor."
One of the templars started to speak, and Papa made a quick gesture at them. "Not here."
Marian had been moving around in the background, filling the small trunk that had been Sofia's on long journeys to visit various branches of their family during holidays. Now it was closed, and Marian came close enough to give Sofia's favourite toy, a cloth fox, to her. "Here you go. Signor Rosso will be with you all the way."
Sofia still didn't entirely follow what was going on. But her parents had never asked her to do something she didn't want to do without there being a reward eventually, and so she believed this would all turn out all right in the end. She would see them soon. She hugged her mother tightly, and then Papa lifted her up and hugged her just as firmly. She clung to him, breathing in the reassuring smell of his soap and sun-warmed skin, feeling the faint prickling of the bristles on his cheek. She wanted to stay there, but after a few minutes he beckoned one of the templars to come closer, and handed her over.
The templar who took her looked a bit like her fox. He had red hair and brown eyes, and a long nose, and he seemed kind. He held her in the crook of his elbow, smiling gently. "That's a good girl, Sofia. Not everybody is as good as you're being right now. Thank you for making this easy."
Praise was more familiar. Sofia smiled, contented, and didn't wriggle or resist when he started to carry her towards the door, his companion carrying her trunk.
There was a horse and cart outside. Another man wearing templar colours was sat in the drivnig seat, and as she was loaded into the back, she glanced over at the doorway. Mamma and Papa were there. They were both crying.
Fear stirred in her stomach, and she reached out for them, but she remembered what Mamma had said. They'd see her soon. She cuddled Signor Rosso, and crawled into the lap of the fox-templar. All the armour made his lap uncomfortable, but she curled up on his knees regardless, wanting to be close to somebody as the driver whipped up the horses and they rattled slowly out of the courtyard.