mapofstars | (no subject)

When she was a little girl Rosie dreamed of being a princess. Of being a lady, wife of a handsome brave man, with a house under her command. Of dozen upon dozens of pretty dresses. Life had been a happy sort, with a mother and a father, a sister and brother (and another she only half remembered), nothing that had needed an accept. But still she had dreamed, and wished and wanted for a life like something in a story. Something grand, something fascinating.

But a lot had changed with the Blight. The blight had claimed mother, had claimed father, and it had even claimed her dreams of a grand life. There hadn't been a sign of magic before the blight, not even a spark or flicker but the ordeal had left her with nightmares and the nightmares left her screaming, flames springing from her fingertips and then had come another set of fears.

In a way Kirkwall has become her home. It's certainly where she lives, where she sleeps and eats and studies. But it is a sad kind of home, without the joy and sweetness she used to dream of. A life of drab grey clothes, even if she still embroiders them. Of keeping her head down and her mouth shut and praying the the Maker that she will slip past the eyes of the cruel Templars unnoticed. She wonders how much he is inclined to listen to her though, he who cursed her with power she never even wanted but the chant is drilled into her head, and she recites it all the same.

She takes comfort at least, in one thing. Samson is one of the few that is kind to them, who treats them as people, and not threats. And she never meant to have these feelings grow, she knows how dangerous they are but some small seed of romanticism still lives in Rosalie's heart, nurtured now by the way she slips deeper into the stacks of the library, feet soft on the floor as she keeps her eyes open for him and she can't help the relief, the joy that fills her, nor the way her cheeks flush and her lips turn into a smile as she moves closer to him and she only just manages to remind herself to be careful.

"Serah. It's a nice day, isn't it?"

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[ Whatever Samson’s childhood dreams were, they’ve been long lost to the reality of the world. He is, after all, a bit older and more worldly (if only just) than Rosalie. He’s served the Order for more of his life than he hasn’t, in fact. There was a time when he could think of no greater calling; a time before the years grew long and the corruption of Kirkwall played out before his eyes. It makes him work that much harder to hold to the Order’s ideals, to remember that they’re tasked with protecting all, even mages.

He had friends among them, to the disapproval of some. In most cases he can frame it as some sort of business. Maddox is a smith of no small talent, it’s easy to pretend when others question that he is inquiring on work, perhaps considering a new blade, or some such thing. It’s harder when he’s seen with a lovely girl who keeps mostly to herself. Assumption are made, rumours start. He’s seen it happen before.

He knows the sorts of things that go on in Circles. Despite the current attitudes, mages are people and people have needs for various sorts of companionship. Friendships are formed, romances, too. It’s all clandestine, of course. Just like this accidental meeting in a place where mages outnumber Templars, far in the back with few prying eyes to see.

It’s ridiculous how the sight of her makes his stomach flutter, as if he wasn’t a man over forty years, but some boy in the first flush of a youthful crush. A reserved smile tugs its way over his lips and he looks down, lest anyone but Rosie catch a glimpse. ]

Better now for the company.

I've missed you...

[The words are a whisper, Rosalie almost frightened that to say such things will call down troubles for them. Call down Meredith herself perhaps, or another Templar, one who won't look the other way. Who may assume that Samson is taking advantage of her, and if one Templar can, than surely all can. She's just a mage, locked away for the safety of others, for the safety of herself.

But she's still human. Still a girl, still on the cusp of her adulthood and she loves him. She truly does, and he loves her so she can say such things, can't she. Let herself miss him and think about him through all her daily tasks, the desire for his touch growing more and more the longer she has to stay away. She can't bear it any longer and her steps quicken till she finds him, Rosie lifting herself on tiptoes as she flings her arms around him, mindful of his armour and wishing she could hug him without it in the way]

I missed you so much. [It's only been a day or two, but that was more than enough. More than she can bear and she clings to him, letting herself escape reality for a few brief moments]