Enchanting Deceptions [Dragon Age OC]

Post by **NicTheDjinn** » Sun Feb 14, 2021 3:27 pm

This… Was not what he'd trained for.

Following a desperate request for a holy man to come maintain a Chantry’s Sacred Flame, Knight-Lieutenant of the Templar Order Xastrul Kaulbach had arrived in this city only a day ago. He'd been welcomed by the small Chantry, and quickly begun his work tending to the Flame in the stead of a priest. A Templar taking over such duties was a little odd, but Xastrul had never been one to shy away from what the Maker deemed necessary of him.

The dragon, however, was a bit of a surprise.

Smothered by the smoke and cooking in his heavy armor, the Knight-Lieutenant did his best to yell over the flames. His throat burned with each lungful of heated air, but that didn't stop his urgency in directing whoever would listen downwind and into the relative safety of the nearby woods. Civilians streamed past in every direction, screaming and choking on the heat and ash. It was nearly impossible to gather them, the humans stampeding like startled sheep during the onslaught of this fire-breathing scaled wolf.

A sudden burst of wind fanned the roaring flames as the aforementioned creature lazily looped over its handy work, scooping up a few of the scattering populace as a light meal.
Arrows glanced off the giant's scales, the effort of the archers wasted when the dragon then turned to do away with them in kind.

As it passed by, the muscled tail of the creature struck a nearby home. The structure couldn't take it, it's wooden beams snapping and shooting smoldering debris out in all directions. A large piece of charred timber struck the Templar across the back, the impact sending him to the ground, hard. Damp soil was a sudden new stench clogging his nostrils and laying heavily on his tongue, though a welcome momentary reprieve from the malodor of burning flesh and the taste of cinders.

It was a struggle to rise again after being struck down in such a way, but Xastrul had no time to remain prone. People needed help.

His tired knees and bruised back protested, the Templar gritting his teeth through the dull throbbing as he once again became vertical. Blood and soot stained the back of the hand used to wipe his stinging eyes. One seemed to be injured, it’s vision dyed red, but there was no time to seek a healer. All he could do was hope it would pass, along with the ringing in his ears.

Xastrul, now helmetless and half-blind, his braid undone and caught in the dragon-born updrafts, once again began his attempts at herding residents to safety. Maker help him, he had to try.

He couldn't let another city be reduced to ashes around him.

-----

It had just been a normal day. Or... it was supposed to be.

The day started out like any other. Valyria woke up, got dressed, and went about her daily hobbies. She wasn't allowed to leave the house, unless it was to go into the garden for some sunlight and fresh air. The family couldn't risk anyone asking for her hand in marriage. For the Estienne family had a secret. Their youngest child, and only daughter (i.e. her) was a mage. Normally, she should have been shipped off to the local Circle of Magi as soon as her magic manifested itself. But, her parents had been unwilling to send off their only daughter to a place where they wouldn't be permitted to so much as visit her, so they kept her magic a secret instead. Normally, Valyria would have been doomed to accidentally losing control at some point in her childhood, and her entire family would be subject to some form of punishment. But, she had been lucky enough to encounter another apostate mage while she had escaped once to play in the woods. She would thereafter, sneak out once a weak to learn from this apostate.

Now, she was an adult, and quite good at her secret talent.

She was in the garden, tending to her roses when the Dragon attacked. Her homes had been one of the first to get hit. There had been an ear-shattering roar, the a blast of fire had hit her home in an explosion of cinders, wood, and stone. She had screamed then, and had rushed to the wreckage of her home. She hadn't been able to find anything in the rubble that remained, though she probably could have if she had used her magic. Alas, she didn't know who might see, and despite the circumstances, she refrained from using it. But, she didn't need to see their bodies to know their fate. They had all been home, and she had been trying to dig for a while. She had heard nothing, and had seen no one climb from the rubble. Telling herself that now was not the time to mourn, she followed the throngs of panicked citizens through the streets of the now-burning city.

That was when she saw him, and almost ran in the opposite direction. But she stopped herself. While it went against everything she had ever been taught, this man might be the best bet of getting as many people out of the city as possible. She ran straight up to the templar, her turquoise dress tattered, and stained with soot; her ginger hair in a windblown and tangled mess all the way down until it came to it's natural stop at her lower back. She must of looked a right fucking mess, but her green eyes were strangely calm. Still scared, but not panicked like everyone else.

"You need to get them through the Alienage exit. It's not on fire yet, and it's our best hope of getting people out alive. It'll be easier with two of us." She only knew that because she had happened to catch a glimpse of it while being caught in the stampede of people, but still. She wanted to help as much as she could. Even if it meant working with a Templar.

-----

There was a moment when Xastrul, his head buzzing, had thought that the woman before him was Andraste herself. Those piercing green eyes were so calm, even during this- by all accounts- cataclysmic event. Who else could disregard dragon fire other than the Bride of the Maker herself..?

Eventually, his ears caught up with the rest of him, finally registering what she had said. The alienage exit! His red-tinted gaze swung towards it, finding it as pristine as this woman had assured him. The Templar gave her a nod, making a beeline for that exit while herding and directing as many people as he could. However for every one he got to retreat with him, it seemed three more ran out into the fray, or died in the blaze.

At the alienage exit, he continued doing what he could to direct this rag-tag group of survivors to safety, seemingly disregarding his own. Even when the dragon turned to begin another pass, he was still reaching for townsfolk, trying to get them on the other side of the exit. Xastrul barely got outside the gate before fire lit up the ground he'd been previously standing on. As the refugees started to put distance between themselves and the town-turned-dragon-nest, his eyes found the Andrastean woman once more.

"...Thank you. Your help was invaluable." He commended her, calling over as they moved.

-----

Valyria had done her best to assure that as many townsfolk as possible had been saved, but she had hit a similar problem as the Templar. Very few people were even listening to what they had said. At one point, she physically pulled a child out of the street mere moments before the dragon had set the road alight. To be honest, her desire to help had come quite out of nowhere. The thought of helping hadn't even occurred to her until she had seen him doing so, then she had been hit with the most overwhelming desire to help. It was the right thing to do, and she was ashamed it took her so long to remember that.

She had made it out of the gates right before the Holy Knight himself. Looking down, she saw the hem of her skirt was smoldering, so she quickly stomped that out, then followed him in guiding the scared citizens to the next town. That was their best bet. But... looking at them all, she knew there weren't enough survivors. If only they could have saved more...

She shook herself from that line of thought before her mind had a chance to think of her own family, right in time to hear the Templar speak to her. She smiled at him. After all, just because he was a Templar, didn't mean she shouldn't try and be nice. He had just rescued a bunch of people too.

"You too. Most of these people wouldn't be here without you." She pointed out. "My name is Valyria," she said, remembering her manners. "To whom do I owe the pleasure?" They were likely going to be traveling companions for a while, so she figured she would get introductions out of the way.

As they walked, however, she made sure to grab any herbs that would be useful along the way. Many people were sporting burns, and it wasn't like she could use her magic to heal them with a Templar around. She was by no means, a healer, but her apostate teacher had taught her some basic first aid. She would treat them when they stopped to rest.

She would also need more practical clothing, but she lacked any coin before she fled. She might have to resort to the more... rogue skills she had under her belt for that. When the Templar wasn't looking, of course.

-----

First her eyes and now her smile... He couldn't help a similar, if more subdued, expression blooming across his battle-scarred face. I likely looked a little strange, as his face was quite permanently set in a sort of stern scowl. Not to mention, currently covered in a mix of soot and his own blood. His injured eye seemed to be swelling itself shut a bit, the bruise around the socket dark and tender.

"I was only doing the Maker's will... Oh, yes. My apologies, I am known as Knight-Lieutenant Xastrul Kaulbach of the Templar order." He introduced himself, feeling foolish that he had taken long enough to do so that she had felt the need to prompt him. Something about those green eyes seemed to steal his words away. Xastrul found himself feeling rather shabby, in his battered armor that likely reeked of the scents of man and battle. His hair had to be a mess as well, the ends burnt and his braids pulled from their bindings and full of detritus.

When was the last time he'd worried about such things..?

"Are you a healer?" He asked, pulling himself out of his thoughts and helping to gather more of the plants she seemed keen on collecting. It... It was some sort of herb for healing, he knew, but the name escaped him. Something... Something to do with ears? Or was it feet..? It was quite frustrating, the words on the tip of his tongue, but so far from his reach at the same time.

The lyrium had already begun taking little things like... But this wasn't the time to stew on that. They were between a dragon and harsh wilderness, and he needed to be at his best to lead and defend this small troupe however he could. It was a long way to the next town, they had next to no supplies, and he could already feel a bit of a chill in the wind.

-----

Valyria found that she liked his smile. This was really the first time that she had spent any amount of time with someone who wasn't family, but she chased that thought away quickly. If she thought of her family, she would cry, and she couldn't do that in front of these people. It wasn't like she was embarrassed to; nothing of the sort. But... when great tragedy happens, there has to be someone who stands strong for them all. Someone who can't mourn so that everyone else can. And Valyria didn't think it fair to place that burden on Xastrul alone. She would survive if she didn't mourn. And her family would forgive her, if there truly was an afterlife.

She couldn't help the small bark of laughter that escaped her at his question. "Oh, Heavens no. A mentor taught me some basic first aid a while back. Never thought I would need it, but now I'mglad he insisted. I can make poultices for the burns these people are suffering from, and I can make splints if anyone broke anything," She looked at him then. "And as soon as we run across fresh water, you're putting it on that eye." They didn't have ice, so cold water was the next best thing.

She noted how he had started gathering the herbs that she was, and was grateful for the help. They would probably need a lot of it. Now that they were out of the chaos, she could feel her own skin stinging in places. Namely her shoulder. She gingerly reached up, to feel the spot... And promptly winced when her finger met tender, burned flesh. Yeah, the fabric of her dress had met with some form of fire. More than likely when they had to go under the smoldering ruins of a house. Xastrul had his armor to protect him from it, the few children they had with them had been small enough, and the remaining adults had been extra careful. She thought she had been too. Not careful enough it seemed. But, she was unimportant in this matter.

She had to pause in her gathering of herbs as a cough wracked her body. Out of reflex, she coughed into her hand. When she pulled it away, her phlegm was marred by black. She must have inhaled more smoke than she thought. Without anything else to wipe it off on, she used her already ruined dress. It wasn't like it would be noticed. She hoped they found water soon. They could all go with a drink of water, then they could stop and make a fire for the night; get some much needed rest. She looked back at the Templar.

He could probably use it too.

-----

Her laughter…

The Templar had found himself stunned hearing it. Not a girlish giggle, not the guffaw of an old crone… It had been bright, a promise of warm afternoons and starlit skies. It reminded him of fresh-baked bread and the feeling of a pillow under his head after a long march.

He wanted to make her laugh again.

This wasn’t the time.

“A-ah, I see. That is quite fortunate. I only learned very basic first aid, and nothing about burns or how to make poultices… We should be thankful the Maker brought you to us.” His face was graced by that small smile once more, handing her over the plants he’d collected. There were a few weeds gathered with the herb, but he’d really tried to get as much of the desired plant as he could. “My… Oh. Yes.” He murmured, touching his swollen eye gently and finding it throbbing under his fingers.

The aches and pains of his body made themselves known one by one, now that he was paying attention to them. His back likely bore quite the bruise where he’d been struck, and his limbs were tired and stiff… That hardly mattered though, a Templar learned quickly to function through pain and discomfort. Demons didn’t wait for you to catch your breath. Apostates didn’t care if you were tired. Protecting these refugees was the only thing that mattered, right now. These wounds were nothing, compared to his Maker- given duty.

Those thoughts scattered when he saw her wince out of the corner of his working eye.

“You’re hurt.” Xastrul's face set into a more familiar stern expression, moving closer to try and see the extent of the damage without aggravating it further. She was definitely burned, but he couldn’t be sure to what extent. The Knight couldn’t help being annoyed at himself- She’d been in pain, this whole time, and here he’d been acting like a swooning page-boy!

The black in her hand only seemed to worry him further, the Templar instinctively reaching for the waterskin he usually carried at his hip… Only to remember he had left it in the now-charred Chantry.

That option lost to him, his one working eye took to scanning the tree line. Xastrul knew he’d come across a watercourse on his way into town a few days prior. Surely they were getting close to it by now… Though it was hard to be sure, any indication of direction and time lost to the smoke-formed clouds.

-----

Valyria had been grateful when he had handed her the herbs he had helped pick. Not bad, all things considered, for an unpracticed eye. There were some weeds that she picked out. But Elfroot was pretty distinctive, so they now had plenty of that. She stored all of the herbs in her dress pockets (something she had always been glad this particular dress had). Despite the fatigue setting into her, and her hurts slowly making themselves known, she was looking for a source of water. Hopefully a river, because then they could just follow the river, and always have a source of fresh water. They would also have a much higher chance of encountering a town. Towns were always built near water, for obvious reasons. And they really needed water over everything else. It was the source of all life, after all.

She felt her face heat up when he expressed his concern for her injury. No one had ever really worried for her well being before. Granted, that was because her family knew she was a mage, and also had no concept of how magic worked. They didn't know it couldn't be used for everything. This man had no idea she was a mage. And, if she had any say in it, would never find out. It wasn't like she was going to be around him the rest of her life. The burn was in a really awkward spot too... She might need his help to apply any poultice she would end up making, and that thought embarrassed her. She had never been around so many people before. And she wasn't related to any of them. It didn't help that Xastrul was quite attractive.

"Oh, it's nothing. I'll take care of myself when everyone else is alright." She replied, shooting a friendly smile in his direction. At least she had found herself in this situation with one of the better Templars.

That was when she heard it: running water. Soon, everyone else did too, and it wasn't long after that when they reached the river. They had to veer a little bit to do so, but they got there. There was still probably a few hours of daylight left, which was perfect. They needed daylight to get prepared to rest. More than likely it would just be herself and Xastrul to watch for enemies. She wasted no time in helping the others. She had no mortar and pestle, but she made due by tearing a slab of bark off a nearby tree, and using a particularly thick stick as the pestle. Using those, she did her best to turn the herbs into a fine paste. For cloth, she tore the entire bottom hem (about an entire hands' width) of her own skirt. It was ruined anyway, and wasn't even particularly important to her. Then, she tore that into smaller sections as she would need more than the one giant strip her dress gave her. Underneath, revealed her footwear. A pair of boots, still quite well made, but also made with comfort in mind. It was the only practical thing about her outfit, but she hoped to change that when they reached a town.

One of the little girls gasped when she saw it. "Your pretty dress!" The little girl exclaimed as Valyria started applying the paste to the strips.

"Don't fret, little one. A dress can be replaced," She gently bopped the little girl on the nose. "You can't be."

She then, called attention to the refugees, and told them to form an orderly line for the poultices she had made for everyone with burns. Which... was most of them.

-----

Xastrul understood the need to take care of others before oneself… Still, he would have preferred her wounds be tended to first. Valryia was the closest they had to a healer at the moment, and it was important she remained in good health. She was also the most injured among them, the man of course not counting himself.

Before the Templar could express that sentiment, the sound of running water alerted them to the very landmark they had been searching for. Finally, they could have a moment to gather themselves and make sense of the turmoil they’d been thrust into. He set to making camp for the civilians, gathering wood for a fire and branches to make a sort of shelter, to protect the children and elderly from the chilling winds. It was best that they rested here for the night, rather than continue on.

He heard the exchange with the child, the interaction making something in his stomach flutter concerningly. Even if she wasn’t one, Valryia truly seemed to have a healer’s heart, brimming with kindness and concern.

Ah, there he went again. This wasn’t the time for such thoughts.

While Valryia took care of the people’s wounds, Xastrul went to the water, starting the arduous process of removing his armor. He’d barely managed to get it all on when the dragon’s attack had begun. The buckles were all haphazard, the ties knotted and frayed… Getting it off was an endeavor, but he couldn’t check his wounds with it on, still.

The water was cold enough to sting, the Templar hissing between his teeth as he washed the grime from his face and neck. His eye was terribly tender, swollen shut at this point… If he was lucky, it would recover, though he knew a fair number of Templars that had lost their vision from wounds like these. He, at least, would still have the one eye. Xastrul’s hair received a similar treatment, though eventually frustrating him enough that he gave up. Perhaps he should shear it short after all, save the effort of keeping it untangled and clean. Pulling his red tunic off, he craned his neck to the side to see the beginning of the large bruise on his back. Well. Nothing could be done for that, right now. He’d just have to sleep on his side until it healed. When he could risk sleep, anyway.

The tunic went back on, followed by the armor-more carefully this time. If danger arose, he needed to be prepared. A Templar with no armor could still fight, but the added protection of metal was nothing to disregard. With the dragon still so close, it was too dangerous to let his guard down.

Somewhat cleaner, and armored once again, he returned to the camp, seeking out Valryia.

“Do you need help with your wound?” He asked, approaching right as she was finishing up with the last civilian. “It’s in a hard place to reach, isn’t it..? I would be happy to offer my help, if you need it.”

-----

As she was helping the civilians, she was able to get to know them a little. At least the ones that were in the mood to talk. Some of them weren't, and she understood. They had gone through a lot, and people dealt with that differently. While talking to them, she found that two of the children hadn't escaped with their families. And the little boy was an elf, so... the two children were not related. It would be hard to find new homes for them. People had little enough already, trying to take care of their blood-related families, let alone taking in a strange child and putting more of a strain on their resources. Maybe one of the adults that escaped with them would take pity on the children. Her true concern was the elf boy. Prejudices against elves was, unfortunately, common.

As she worked, she couldn't help but cast her gaze over to Xastrul, who was by the river. A small smile made it's way to her lips as she watched him struggle with his hair, and tried to turn her attention away from him when he removed his shirt. She didn't want to be seen as a peep, after all! But... she did keep glancing over anyway, and winced when she saw the bruise on his back. But it was a very nice back... She tore her eyes away from him to pay attention to what she was doing. Maybe she would see if anyone had a hairbrush on them, and if she could borrow it for his hair. Hers wasn't as important, she could deal with it until she could get her own. But... she didn't want him to get impatient with it, and end up cutting off all that beautiful hair.

Valyria was just finishing up with the final person when Xastrul came by. By now, her shoulder was stinging even worse, and her throat was scratchy from all the coughing she had been doing. She definitely needed a drink of water. She was too tired and sore to turn down his offer though, so she just nodded. "I would appreciate that." She said, offering him a small smile. "But first, I need a drink of water." She said, walking over to the side of the river, cupping her hands in the water, and drinking from that. Once that was done, she handed him the premade poultice she had put together.

"All you have to do is, make sure it covers the entire surface area. The poultice should help it stick to my skin." She sat down in front of him, and shifted her dress off her shoulder so he could have access to the entire surface area. She couldn't be sure how large the burn was, after all.

-----

He followed her to the river bank, agreeing wordlessly that she needed to sate her thirst… Valryia’s throat sounded pained, and even while he’d been washing up he had heard her coughing.

His ears reddened when she shifted her dress, the one good eye quickly looking away.

“I-I see. I should be able to do that.” The winter chill had to be the reason for his slight stammer, surely.

Once he could make himself look at her revealed back, the Templar was quite glad she had taken him up on his offer... Especially when he saw the severity and size of the burn. It marred her skin from just above her left shoulder blade to down between them, fading just before her lower back. Blisters were already forming around the edges, and he could only imagine how it must sting and ache.

He kneeled down behind her, setting the poultice on the ground momentarily so he could shed his gauntlets. River rocks crunched under Xastrul’s throbbing knees as he shifted, the Knight trying to find the best position to reach her wounds.

“I will do my best to be careful, but I apologize in advance... This will likely be painful.” There was a tinge of sorrow to his voice, the man saddened to bring her any sort of discomfort. The substance was cool when he dipped his fingers into it, which he hoped would soothe the friction of having it applied. “Tell me if you need me to stop.” He moved her hair so it didn’t get in the salve, his fingertips barely brushing her neck.

Xastrul was as gentle as possible, his rough, battle-worn fingers ever so carefully ghosting over her back, leaving a thick layer of the remedy. He seemed almost nervous, the Templar unused to performing such delicate tasks as this... He was listening attentively to every breath she let out, even over the rushing of the river, pulling his hand back if a breath came too short or pained.

When he was finished, the Templar wiped his fingers clean on his tunic, leaving her to fix her dress if she so desired. “Is there anything else I can do to help you?”

-----

Valyria was a little embarrassed at first, but after feeling exactly how large the burn was, she was glad that she had taken him up on his offer as well. As he moved further down, she had to adjust her dress to expose more skin, though she made sure to keep the fabric bunched up in front of her to avoid exposing all the citizens they saved. Some of them had started to gather around the fire that Xastrul had put together. She was really glad that he had taken it upon himself to make the fire. She didn't know how to make a fire without using magic. The process wasn't exactly pleasant, as he had said it wouldn't be. Every time a particularly pained gasp escaped her, she felt him stop, and she couldn't help but feel a little touched that he was being so gentle with her. Then there was the darker, more cynical side of her, that wondered if he would still care like this if he knew what she was. "Probably not." She thought to herself, though, of course, did not voice it.

Once he was done, she carefully covered herself up again, making sure not to disturb the poultice. "For me?" She asked, shaking her head. "No, I'm going to try and wash my hair, and probably drink some more water. Just... make sure the others are warm enough. We don't have any blankets."

She really did appreciate him being here. Not only could he protect all of them, but he could also help her look after the others. And she did just that, though she got the drink first, then tried to rinse out her hair. It was while she used her fingers to comb out the tangles that the orphaned little girl approached her, cradling a handmade hairbrush. More than likely it had already been in her possession when she was forced to flee. She had quite possibly been brushing her mothers hair, or maybe a dolls'.

"May I brush your hair?"

Valyria couldn't help but smile at the little girl, and sat down in front of her. "It would be my pleasure." The little girl let out a small squeal of delight, and got to work brushing out her thick, red hair. The girl was surprisingly gentle with her hair, clearly not wanting to hurt one of the people that had helped them escape an actual hellfire. The girl also did a surprisingly good job. Maybe she was used to brushing her mother's hair after all...

After about ten minutes of this, the little girl was done, and Valyria had a much nicer head of hair. Before the child could run off, however, the mage asked to borrow the brush with the promise that she would return it shortly. Wanting to make good on her promise, she made her way over to Xastrul, having remembered his struggle with his own locks earlier.

"Do you need help with your hair?" She asked, holding the brush out to him. "Or you could do it yourself, of course. I just thought it might be difficult in your armor." At least that was the reason she told herself. It certainly wasn't because she wanted an excuse to touch his hair...

-----

“Very well. Do not hesitate if you think of something.” He so wished there was more he could do for her, for all of them… They had to get to the next town as soon as they could, so he could find these people food and proper shelter. His eyes drifted to Valyria, thinking of her cough and her burnt flesh... They needed a real healer, too- even though she had done an amazing job! He truly was grateful she had been here!

Xastrul just didn’t want her wounds to end up worse than they already were, due to lack of knowledge on either of their parts.

The knight tossed more wood on the fire, hoping it would do as a substitute for blankets, at least for tonight. All these refugees had to keep warm were the clothes on their backs, which were already worse for wear from the fire and smoke... Not to mention some of the brambles and thorns they had trudged through. A cold wind blew past, as if to justify his worries. The knight took a moment, instructing everyone that could to gather up all the leaves and plants they could find. Sleeping with a barrier from the ground would at least abate some of the chill.

That dealt with, he was left with the more pressing matter of deciding where they were going to go. Along the river was a given, as they had no way to carry water, and most of the towns in this area were built close to the riverbank. The Knight thought for a bit, then sitting down after grabbing some rocks, sticks, and other detritus. Let’s see… His maps were surely burnt to a crisp by now, but perhaps he could recall a few things.

Even with his memory being what it was these days.

First… The river.
He drew a line in the dirt with a stick, more or less trying to get the shape of it. Near it, he placed a smooth stone. That was where they had come from, the town ravaged by a dragon. Obviously not an option.

He heard the little girl’s question, turning slightly to watch as she began to brush out Valyria’s hair… He hadn’t even noticed it was tangled… All he’d thought upon seeing it was how bright it was, reminding him of molten steel and campfires in the quiet of the desert…

Xastrul quickly looked back to his dirt drawing, staring at it for a long moment to get back on track and stop thinking about sunsets and how soft her hair had been when he shifted it before.

R-right. So. In either direction, there should be smaller towns… He’d passed through the more easterly one on his way to this Chantry, and remembered it being fairly populated. Surely some of the townspeople would be willing to take in refugees.

Ah, but wait… Those woods were well-known holdouts of Apostates… He couldn’t risk running into mages without weapons. Xastrul shuddered to think of these people’s fates if faced with such a group. Bent with blood magic? Forced to house demons..? His blood ran cold thinking of it, of her, twisted up with demons from some Maker- rejected mage.
The thing screaming horrid words in her voice, in his mother's voice-

He absolutely did not jump when Valyria spoke to him.

“My- oh.” He remembered his braids, how messy they must look… “I… I would likely require assistance, if you would not mind?” He hated to impose, but he did need to get it under control, before he could find a barber to cut it all off.

-----

Valyria herself had jumped slightly when he had. He must have been deep in thought, and she apologized when his attention was on her. She hadn't meant to startle him. But soon they addressed the matter of his hair, so the incident was forgotten. The little girl had done wonders for Valyria's hair, and although she lacked a mirror to be able to tell for certain, she at least felt a little more refreshed than before. Most of the other people seemed content to keep their hair un-brushed. Maybe it wasn't important to them, or maybe they were just used to it. A good majority of them probably didn't have the money or time for such frivolities in their daily lives.

She couldn't help but be excited at the prospect of brushing his hair. She really did want to know what his hair felt like... "Let me know if I hurt you." But, of course, she would try to be as gentle as possible.

She moved in behind him, and started working out what remained of his braid. It hadn't held together all that well after what they had gone through, but she tried to be as gentle as possible, as she untangled the woven hair. Once the braids had been worked out, she handed him the strip of leather he had used to tie it off, and got to work actually brushing it out. It was slow-going, as his black hair was quite tangled, and very long. She worked from the bottom, as that was always the area that tangled the easiest, and made her way up to his scalp. He also had a lot of hair on his head, so she had to work in sections. Though, she had to admit, it was easier going than she thought it was going to be. The only reason it was a time consuming process was because of the size of the brush. She had to work in small sections because of it. It also didn't help that she only moved onto the next section once the first was completely devoid of tangles. She told herself it was for his own comfort, but she did like the feeling of his hair...

Once that was done, she set the brush down, braided his hair into a much nicer plait than before, and tied it off with his strip of leather. "There you go. Good as new." She told him, stepping out to where he could see her. She cleaned out the brush of his loose hair, before handing it back to the girl. She had been waiting nearby, eager for the return of her brush. Luckily, she had only been waiting for a minute or so, she she hadn't been present the entire time. It had felt... strangely intimate, to brush his hair like that. Once the girl was gone, playing with the other children, Valyria sat herself down near the Templar. The two of them were the only ones even attempting to take charge of this situation, so she figured they should talk about their next move, and he very likely had a better idea of the surrounding area than she did. After all, she had never left the house other than when she went to the marketplace with one of her family members. She glanced at the people around the fire, all of whom seemed to be settling in for the night.

"So... what's the plan from here?" She asked, turning her attention back to him.

-----

All he could hear, as she gave his hair such sweet attention, was the rushing of the nearby river and the cold wind as it rustled brittle leaves. He’d sat carefully upon a larger stone by the river bank so she could reach his mane, the hard surface against his buttocks barely noticeable as he lost himself to her ministrations. Each smooth brush stroke lead Xastrul further and further into a gentle calm he hadn’t felt in… What was it, years? When was the last time he’d let someone brush out his hair? Had he ever let someone brush his hair? Even when Valyria came across knots and tangles, he remained relaxed, the little bit of pain nowhere near enough to pull him from the soothed state such maintaince seemed to have put him in. Her hands felt so… So comforting, carding through his raven tresses. The Templar found himself incredibly thankful he had washed it the day before, a soft note of his sage rinse making itself known through the scent of smoke. Perhaps it was a bit strange for a Templar to have pride in any subject other than their role in the Maker’s plan, or their own battle prowess. A younger Xastrul would not have and did not care so much about such a frivolous thing, but… As he’d aged, he’d found a sort of peace in caring for this part of him, learning new braids and ways to keep it healthy and out of the fray.

Lured into this calm as he was, the Templar’s shoulders and back started to relax. It was only apparent in calm moments like this or when he slept how much tension the man really carried upon his frame. His muscles were heavily knotted from years and years of fighting without much rest, even more so with the threat of apostates and demons on the rise. With the Chant of Light on his lips and the Maker in his heart, he was able to dispel most fears around those most hated enemies, but... Occasionally, in the dark blanket of night he would hear old, horrible cries. Cries for death and pain, both dealing and receiving from mangled throats of those he once held most dear. He shuddered. Such memories did not belong here, in this calm moment, and he chased them away as he often did with memories of the Chantry Sisters that had raised him. Their calm words and assurances of the Maker’s will… Soft sunbeams pouring through high windows onto the pews below… People gathered, reciting their hopes and prayers together… That suited this better.

When the soft susurrus of the bristles through his silken strands halted, Xastrul’s eye slid open a bit, hazy with this friendly intimacy and care… When had his eyes closed? He didn’t remember when the outside stimulus had ceased to reach him and be replaced by a gentle narrative of her movements and accompanying soft recollections. He’d at some point taken the leather tie from her, the rough, durable thing of great contrast to her fingers as she wove his silken strands this way and that. He wondered what patterns and techniques she preferred, if she would be just as confident and use just as kind hands to do this for anyone… The reverie was broken when she spoke, the Templar almost missing the meaning when she stepped back around him.

The Templar quickly shook himself out of it, embarrassed by the careless, enraptured expression he had no doubt been sporting. How starved for intimacy must he have been to let his guard drop for such a simple reason! All they would have needed was for an apostate to come upon them in that moment, and that would have been the end! His eye met hers, once more struck by such a brilliant green in this dull forest of winter- brought browns and blacks.

“Thank you.” He offered simply, not sure he could say much else without making a fool of himself. It wouldn’t do for a man such as he to swoon poetic about an instance of grooming… Upon his realization that the child had been present, the Templar found his ears reddening. He was sure that must have seemed terribly inappropriate of him, even to a child.

As the child ran off and the woman sat next to him, Xastrul was treated to a change of topic that he was honestly quite glad for. He didn’t know if he could survive in that strange sort of intimacy for much longer.

“I am thinking we head East.” He floated, clearing his throat to rid it of the soft edges his voice carried after that session of care. “A-along the river, of course, so water will not be an issue. There is a town in that direction, if memory serves, and this route will hopefully spare us from the scourge of apostates said to roam to the West.” He treated her to a bit of a smile. “I… I am afraid without my weapons, any aggressors we find would have the advantage. Especially if demons come into play… Where there are apostates, demons are usually quick to follow. It is best we move quickly away from such a dangerous, volatile area.” He murmured, looking at the dirt map he’d made. Not knowing the truth of who he spoke to, he felt no need to hide his distaste for apostates through his tone. The majority of Templars and citizens found such mages a real threat, so it was safe to assume this kind not-healer would share a similar opinion. Surely she'd seen the damage she wrought. “Once we reach the city, I believe most of our compatriots will be able to find shelter… If not, I plan to escort them on to the next town, and so on until everyone is safe.” His gaze returned to her momentarily, then over to the people resting around the fire. “It will take some time, but I feel the Maker has entrusted me with this duty. I shall not fail him.”

-----

Valyria had been quite unaware of the effect she had on him during that entire session, and she didn't know him well enough to pick up on the soft tone he sported changing into a harder one. Although, she did catch the disdain in his voice when he mentioned Apostates in the woods. She frowned slightly, but was able to hide the sadness in her eyes. She was used to that sort of talk from passersby when she had been in her garden, or out with her family (though her being able to leave the house wasn't often.) Heck, her own family would make off handed comments about how magic was evil, as if she weren't even in the room. As if she herself wasn't a mage. As if they had forgotten about her, or just didn't care about how that would make her feel. But somehow, it hurt more that this man would share that view with the general populace. But that didn't make sense. he was a Templar, Of course he felt that way. They all did...

And loath as she was to admit it, he... had a point. When Apostates gathered in large groups, it was usually the view of the fanatics that won out. And she wasn't confident just the two of them could keep these people safe, especially with so few weapons between them. He only had his axe from the looks of things, and she had... her magic. And she really didn't want to think about what would happen if he were to find out she was an Apostate too. If she just had a dagger or something, she would feel a lot better. Her mentor had taught her everything she knew about magic, so she was definitely capable of firing a blast of ice, or fire at someone, but since she was supposed to be keeping her magic a secret she preferred to use it as a last resort usually with the intention to protect rather than attack. Because of that reasoning, her mentor had not only taught her how to control and use her magic, but how to fight with a dagger, pick locks, pickpocket, and disappear into shadows.

"So, I take it you don't have any extra, smaller weapons? Like a dagger, or something I could use?" She asked. She might as well let him know that she wasn't completely helpless as long as she had a weapon. But, unfortunately, she didn't at the moment, so she was just the same as these other people unless she wanted to out herself as a mage, which she really didn't want to do. If anyone got into any serious danger, she would, but... she would rather save that for a last resort.

She glanced over at the people by the fire again. An old woman was praying to the Maker, one of the children with family to speak of was nodding off in her mother's lap. Everyone else seemed to be quiet, but Valyria could tell that tensions were running high. They would also have to do something about food, and while there were probably fish in the river, they would need a means to catch said fish.

Turning back to Xastrul, she spoke again. "How long do you think it will take to get to the next town?"

-----

His attention was pulled away from the encampment when she spoke. "Oh! Yes, I should have my-" Xastrul's hand moved, grasping for a scabbard at his hip. He'd learned long ago to carry a knife, along with a few other items of import attached to his belt with a chatelaine.

Gloved hands didn't meet the chains and items he had been expecting however, Xastrul frowning and looking down at his hip. Ah, right... In all the commotion, he'd lost many of his personal effects, including his knife and sewing supplies. They had likely been reduced to ash, a thought that made his frown set a little deeper. The chatelaine had been a gift from the Sisters that raised him, and out of all the things he'd lost- his weapon, his shield, his water skin- he found that particular loss stung the most. It had been engraved with the Symbol of the Chantry, the Chant of Light carefully embossed upon the clasp. It had been a grounding item, something that reminded him of calm nights mending his tunics while training to become a Templar. The thought that he'd lost something so precious pained him deeply.

"Apologies. It seems I must have lost it along with everything else." He admitted to her softly, his hand returning to his knee. It truly was a shame... Having another in their little party that could fight would have been quite valuable.

He followed her gaze to the citizens, noticing as the woman said her prayers. He was glad the Maker could bring comfort in this troubling time... There would likely be hardships ahead for them, travelling through the woods like this. Water was no longer an issue at least, but food and shelter would likely be a recurring need. Hunting with just an axe would be quite a feat, and the branches and bushes seemed mostly devoid of foliage and any sort of edible fruit. Perhaps spear fishing..? He hadn't attempted it since he was a child, but perhaps the Maker would see way to giving him a bit of extra luck...

Pulled from his plans, Xastrul's eye met her own, a moment passing before the question finally reached his ears. "If I remember correctly, it took me a little over two days to travel from the more westerly town... Without a road, and without tiring out the more fragile members of our party, I expect it will take half again as much time." Three days was a generous estimate, especially if they had the bad luck to come upon bandits or anyone of them fell victim to injury, or exhaustion.

Speaking of...

"You should rest, Valryia. Not that I do not appreciate your company, of course!" He quickly backtracked, not wanting her to feel like he was trying to get rid of her. "I plan to keep watch for the night, and I do not want you to feel like you have to do the same."

Xastrul very much doubted he would be able to rest, in this situation. Lingering scents of fire and char were too familiar, and brought memories to the forefront of his mind that he'd long hoped to have locked away. Why, out of all the things Lyrium stole from him, could those memories not be taken away...

Ah, and that was another thing he had to worry about. His Lyrium supply and tools were lost to him... Within a couple days, the withdrawals would likely start.

Xastrul could only hope they arrived before he was too far gone to protect everyone.

-----

Valyria couldn't stop the frown from forming on her lips. She hadn't really been expecting anything, but she had gotten her hopes up for half a second when he had asserted that he did indeed have something, only for him to be mistaken. It would seem like she had to wait until they reached a town to be useful. She worried her lower lip at the thought, but quickly stopped when she realized what she had been doing. She snapped herself out of it right on time to hear what he had to say about her resting. He had barely finished his thought when she answered.

"I don't want to."

The response had been too clipped; too harsh. Even she knew that. "Sorry. That was uncalled for. I just... I don't want to rest. Every time I close my eyes I smell the smoke. See the fires. See the ruins of my house." She hadn't made mention that her family was still inside when it happened. She didn't want to think about that, because if she did, she might start to cry. And that was the last thing she wanted. She didn't want to show this man her tears. The Templar order had subjugated mages for hundreds of years. If it weren't for them, her parents needn't have hidden her all her life, then maybe she would have had a normal life, instead of being locked up in the manor. No... That was unfair. It was her parents decision to hide her. That was no one's fault but their own, and she shouldn't take it out on this man, who had been nothing but kind to her. Sure, he was a templar, but he was also her best chance of survival right now. And... something else pulled her towards him that she couldn't name.

She knew that she should go sit by the fire to keep herself warm, that all of Xastrul's layers probably made him less vulnerable to the cold than her, who was just in this ruined dress. But, it was strange... She didn't really feel cold, despite that they were starting to creep into winter. Maybe it was just the shock of everything. Of losing her entire life in but a few minutes. Either way, she wasn't tired, nor cold, nor hungry. She just... was. It was a surreal feeling.

"I don't think I ever thanked you. For helping all these people. Me included. We might not be here if you hadn't been in town." She felt a little ashamed it had taken her this long to remember such a basic formality. The man had saved all of their lives, for Heaven's sake! And no one had even thought to thank him. He didn't seem like the type to care about that sort of stuff, but she felt it needed to be said, regardless.

-----

The Templar had been taken aback by her sudden shift in tone. She had seemed so cheery and hopeful, if tired, for much of this time… Perhaps he had misread her?

“No, do not apologize, Valyria.” His voice was soft, kind… Xastrul knew as well as anyone the fear that sometimes came with sleep. How memories often sought to invade pleasant slumber, to jostle one awake with painful, twisted visions. It was still rare for his own memories to remain silent when there were no other distractions to aid him. Looking upon her, the way she sat- it was obvious there was much on her mind. The posture and countenance was too familiar, and the Templar knew exactly which muscles would ache, if she held herself like that for too long.

“You have been through a lot today, and you have stayed so strong for everyone here. If you do not wish to rest, I will not insist, and if you would like to stay, then I am sure I would appreciate the company.” A gauntleted hand found itself on her shoulder, the only comfort he could think to give, sorely inadequate, even to his own eyes. The leather protecting his fingers was rough and worn from years of holding a shield strong against onslaughts of blows. The metal concealing the top of his hand was clean, though well-used. In fact, upon close inspection, Xastrul’s armor had seen a good amount of use, battle scarred and worn no matter how often he cleaned it and oiled the leather. He’d struggled and fought his way to the rank of Knight-Lieutenant, his armor’s defacements each like metals of valor. His skin carried a fair amount of the scars as well, some visible around his neck and chest, and a few on his face.

The man looked so surprised when she thanked him, his one functioning eye going a bit wide. “I…I only did as the Maker would have desired of me.” He assured her. “I am glad I was of help. Though… I do wish I could have done more.” His voice was a whisper, Xastrul looking once more over the people they had managed to save. Children without parents, Wives without husbands… It was foolish to think he could have somehow saved everyone, but he still found himself burdened by the loss of life. It was wholly too familiar, reminding him of a horror long passed. He would do right by these survivors, however hard it was, and through whatever difficulties they might face. Not a single one would come to harm under his watch., he swore silently to the Maker.

Xastrul’s gaze returned to the woman, how her dress had been torn and she herself left without much insulation. “Would you like to move closer to the fire..? Ah, actually.” The Templar rose, pulling his tabard off with some difficulty. The fabric displayed the symbols of the Chantry and the Templar order itself, obviously embroidered with great care, and less obviously by its owner’s own hand. The fabric was burnt in a few places, and ripped in a few more, but it would help where her dress failed, he hoped. The Templar offered the garment to her, his face graced again with a gentle smile. “Here. Even if we move closer to the fire, you should have this. Your dress has already sacrificed enough of itself, it can hardly be asked to keep you warm, as well.”