Finding Tranquility

A demure smile adorned Rhosyn’s featured as he’d leant upon the terrace on the sea-facing balcony of his temporary quarters, nostrils flaring as he’d momentarily relished the distinct aroma of the sea’s spray. Truly, it was a welcomed reprieve from his recent travels with an armed caravan, his passage paid for in full by his services as a healer. The elves’ expression visibly soured as he’d recalled the numerous undesired encounters with the Darkspawn and other manner of creature. Blasted beasts, they were adamant that I am not permitted to focus on my research – I still have a headache from overtaxing my reserves so routinely.

Alas, it is over, the caravan was fortune enough to suffer no loss of life. I am certain they are more than displeased with some of the damage suffered to their wares. Rhosyn sardonically mused to himself, withdrawing back into his quarters, inspecting the small crude tub that was now thoroughly encrusted with a tangible layer of sediment – a testament to the arduous nature of their travels. When will we meet with the scholar from the article? I have many questions you must asked… Eros’ voice resonated Rhosyn’s psyche, its’ tone velvety and smooth, a stark contrast to the sense of urgency it imposed upon him.

Hush Eros, I am certain I will have an answer for you in due time, not all possess a near inexhaustible amount of energy… Rhosyn teased, drowning out the barbed retort he’d likely received. His focused turned to the bulging pack seated at the foot of his bed, a well-aged staff propped against it – a memento from his father at the conclusion of his initial apprenticeship with the Clan. His lips inched downwards, a scowl momentarily taking refuge upon his features as a brief glimpse of his mother’s final moments resurfaced – a bulwark against the Darkspawn, summoning down Andraste’s wraith from the heavens.

His dusky verdant gaze reluctantly shifted towards the mirror, inspecting his own reflection. His unruly tresses were contained by a simple bronzed circlet with a piece of moonstone anchored by a trio of prongs, his well-worn and borderline threadbare robes were traded out for cobalt blue tunic and trousers, his thick leather boots were traded out for what amounted to soled slippers. His calloused hands sought a small sachet that sat upon the bed, its’ contents were his coin, the article from the Orlais university that had brought him here.

Rhosyn refrained from bringing his staff along with him, uncertain, if it would garner undesired attention as he’d explored the wharf. He used the iron key provided by the innkeeper to lock his door, tucking it into one of his pockets as he made his way towards the wharfs, pleased to see a myriad of ships that were docked, a myriad of workers bustling back and forth unloading and loading wares. He’d pressed himself flush against the alleyway to make way as two seafarers passed by with a comically large picture frame. Hmm, well at least the ocean isn’t the only pleasant view.” Rhosyn intoned with a smirk as he’d admired the retreating, sweat-slickened muscles.

It is oddly calming… not unlike the depths of the forest… Rhosyn remarked, a sun-kissed digit creeping upwards to tuck a misplaced strand of hair behind his pointed ears, absentmindedly nudging one of several tear-drop inspired earrings.

@ Lucien Beauvais