Maricara was having yet another bout of solitary in Starhaven’s illustrious Circle. It wasn’t the first time she’d ended up here and it wasn’t even the first time she’d ended up here for something she hadn’t even done. She’d become a scapegoat quite quickly for her fellow mages being a foreigner that made it to her teen years outside of the Chantry’s influence. The title of malificar followed her around every step she took in this forsaken place. Whispered after her like a part of her own heartbeat. A word that wasn’t used in her home-country, except by those playing the role to prevent the ruse they’d painted for the Chantry from peeling up.
Malificar. Blood Mage. Abomination.
They weren’t wrong. She was all of those things if she took their definitions as utter truths as they did, however Mari rejected their belief in the inherent evil in those acts. Of course, she kept them to herself and didn’t do them in public here. All magic was neutral, blood or otherwise. People were evil. And she wasn’t evil.
Her shoulder blades burned and stung from the whipping she’d received for whatever she’d been blamed for. Blood was actively soaking through the rough fabric of the robes they had her in. Her wrists were raw from rubbing against the cuffs that kept them tight against one another so it would be harder to cast magic. She was surprised they hadn’t gagged her or sewn her mouth shut like they did mages in Par Vollen.
Andrastians thought they were so much more civilized than those outside their precious religion when really they were just better at hiding their depravity.
She could smell the vanilla scent of the other woman and see the sharp features and clean cut lines. She knew she must have looked practically feral across the put together blonde in front of her. As the templar spoke Mari kept her face completely stoic, head slightly tilted. The honeyed threats dripping from her mouth not getting lost past her.
Malificar. Blood Mage. Abomination.
They weren’t wrong. She was all of those things if she took their definitions as utter truths as they did, however Mari rejected their belief in the inherent evil in those acts. Of course, she kept them to herself and didn’t do them in public here. All magic was neutral, blood or otherwise. People were evil. And she wasn’t evil.
Her shoulder blades burned and stung from the whipping she’d received for whatever she’d been blamed for. Blood was actively soaking through the rough fabric of the robes they had her in. Her wrists were raw from rubbing against the cuffs that kept them tight against one another so it would be harder to cast magic. She was surprised they hadn’t gagged her or sewn her mouth shut like they did mages in Par Vollen.
Andrastians thought they were so much more civilized than those outside their precious religion when really they were just better at hiding their depravity.
She could smell the vanilla scent of the other woman and see the sharp features and clean cut lines. She knew she must have looked practically feral across the put together blonde in front of her. As the templar spoke Mari kept her face completely stoic, head slightly tilted. The honeyed threats dripping from her mouth not getting lost past her.
By your own organizations rules you cannot rip my magic and my person from me as I passed your little test, which means the only thing you could do is kill me and I do not fear death. I only request you do not burn my body. I would like to be returned home to be buried by our customs.
11-25-2023, 05:20 PM
