Dragon Age: Smoke and Shadows

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Morning in the Circle courtyard; it's generally a quiet place, but once in a while a roaming songbird drops in to cheer it up. Such is the case this morning, with a small blue and gray bird perched on the fountain statue and warbling like there's no tomorrow. Or, if there is, it's a dreadfully gloomy one, so today should be as cheerful as possible.
Used to the gloom, Ashalle Roane can't help but smile as she steps outside, hearing the birdsong. It's not familiar at all, but it's a nice change to the silence and the sounds of fountaining water. Staff tucked under her arm, its distinctive globe-over-ring top held carefully up, she steps out onto the grass, enjoying the sound of her leather-booted feet brushing over the blades.
Within moments, whimsy sets in: It's a quiet day and there's no sign of anyone else here. The dark-haired waif goes into a few dance steps, not ungracefully. She step-turns easily into a twirl, robes swirling about her, trying to keep rhythm with the little featherhead serenading the green.

Knight Captain Wulff has always liked the quiet hours of the day. The deep night, the early morning, the times when one could forget they were not totally alone. There's a peace to solitude she has always appreciated. Today, though, he morning stroll is not unaccompanied. In fact, leading the way with heavy pants and enthusiasm is a large, grey mabari. Dane bounds playfully, practically twisting himself in excitement as he makes his way into the courtyard, but still tries to keep an eye on his trailing mistress. The blonde woman laughs quietly, shaking her head. "You great brute, would you calm down?" She says quietly, in a distinctly Ferelden accent. No armor this morning, just a simple linen dress of dark blue, her hair pulled out of her face with pins that sparkle with amethysts. This morning she is every inch a noblewoman, not yet putting on the mantle of Templar.

Not yet conscious of the arriving noblewoman and her companion despite not being terribly far away from them, Ashalle tries to extend her spin, giggling at the dizzy feeling it imposes on her. Faster… faster… the garden becomes a blur!
It's only once she discerns that part of that blur is /moving/ independent of her twirl that she snaps to an unsteady halt, the cumbersome skirts of her layered robes swishing turbulently about her legs. She notices the huge mabari first, doubtless a native of her own homeland, and blinks in surprise. Such a dog, /here/? In the Marches?
It's a moment before she sees who brought it. "Oh! Good morning, M'lady," she says hastily, bowing her head while surreptitiously trying to straighten her dance-mussed hair. You can take the Elfgirl out of the Alienage, but you can't take the Alienage out of the Elfgirl.

Such a dog here, indeed. Who has, now, seen someone he does not know. Someone who a moment ago was spinning around and is almost assuredly dizzy. Dane's favorite thing. The mabari trots up the elven mage, tongue lolling and backside swinging quickly, and exaggeration to the wagging of his tail.

"Oh, Dane, leave the girl alone." Isolde says with a laugh and a shake of her head, "If he bothers you, please tell him to go away. And please, Wulff is fine. I gave up my title when I joined the Order." Wulff, that was a name well enough known. But she's young for a Knight Captain. In fact, she'd be young for a Corporal.

Ashalle, who has only seen Mabari in dangerous places, stares at him for a moment. But all that /happy dog/ body language is infectious, and that foolish doggy smile is even harder to resist. The dark-haired mage smiles, careful not to show her teeth, and kneels to scritch Dane behind the ears and under the chin, poking the pointed end of her staff into the ground so it'll hold itself up without her. "Oh, I don't mind. He's /magnificent/… and such a sweetheart, too," she replies. "Aren't you, you great brute?" she adds, entirely to Dane.
She smiles over the dog's head. "You're the Knight Captain, aren't you? I'm Ashalle… or Mage Roane, I guess. It's an honor to meet you," she says, and if the greeting is a touch nervous, the faint wariness doesn't seem personal, at least.

Dane is more than happy to accept petting. It seems he's been socialized pretty well, even for his size and inevitable ferocity when he needed it. He woofs at Ashalle, a grateful sound that is muffled in heavy jowls. Stepping into the mage, Dane rubs his head along the mage's side, happy as a clam.

"Along with Knight Captain Cullen, yes." Isolde answers with a nod, and rolls her eyes at the dog. "He's mostly just an absolute fool. I don't think anyone has called him magnificent before, even in my kindest praises. And do you prefer Ashalle or your title? I do not put so much stock in forced formality." She leans against the nearest wall, watching the mabari and mage with an amused smirk.

Ashalle giggles and gives the massive mutt a hug. "Lap-brute," she murmurs. Looks like Dane's definitely made a friend. "I'm afraid I've no treats for such a good doggy, but maybe later today? Would you like that?"
She slowly stands, making sure those huge paws aren't on her robes. "Ashalle is fine, and thank you for asking, Captain Wulff. I've not made the acquaintance of Knight Captain Cullen, not yet. Some of the Templars here seem to go out of their way to avoid me," she admits, moving to join Isolde. The ones who haven't have been unusually harsh, but she doesn't speak of that.

If there is one thing Dane has learned, it's not to step on clothes. Isolde put up with that only once before the mabari knew very well better. Another woof is offered to Ashalle, before he's following her over toward Isolde. That's probably as close to an answer about treats as she's getting. The mabari flops down at his mistress's feet, rolling onto his side and panting happily.

"Do they?" Isolde says, her brow knitting, "Well, that's… Unfortunate. If any of them give you trouble, please do report it. We're supposed to be here to protect you, not treat you like cattle." Because that's how it starts with the ones that were in danger, usually, being avoided. It spoke to fear, and fear lead to stupid decisions.

"I'll remember," Ashalle promises, nodding, though not without a hint of reserve. After all, it's obvious that the balance of power here favors the iron-clad crowd, and making enemies isn't a good idea. Still… this Knight Captain genuinely seems to care about the people she's guarding. Maybe it's the Fereldan roots, or that she's a dog person. Either way, the mage nods again, meeting her eyes. She's cautious, not evasive.
She smiles, glancing down at Dane. "He seems very well-behaved. Has he ever frightened anyone? Mabari do have a certain reputation," she recalls.

When given no reason to be anything but kind, it does seem to be Isolde's go to behavior. "With the exception of people who have needed that fear… Never on purpose. He's scared a few who are just afraid of dogs in general, but he's generally just lovable." Isolde answers with a small shrug. "He's not had any reason to be anything else. I've been careful of his socialization since he was just a puppy.

"He is that," Ashalle agrees, rubbing the big lug's belly with the toe of her boot. She looks up at the taller woman. "Please, forgive me if I'm speaking too personally, but you seem very young for a Knight Captain. It only just struck me that you probably aren't much older than I am." She shrugs, blushing a little. "Maybe it's the dress…"

Isolde laughs quietly and nods. "I am quite young for my rank. But I fought for it. I have this habit of having people listen when I speak. It makes living at lower ranks… Difficult, at best." She answers with a shrug. "I had my twenty second birthday in Haring."

"Then you /aren't/ much older than I am," Ashalle exclaims. "Only four years! Please say that we can be friends?"
The impulsive remark makes the Elfgirl blush hotly an instant after it leaves her mouth. She quickly lowers her eyes to the Mabari, scritching his belly a little more with her toe. At least she knows /his/ language well enough.

Dane seems perfectly content with this attention. Seems he's not fussy about how affection is gifted. Isolde, for her part, laughs a little. "Well, I don't see any reason why not. But if you're going to count me as a friend, you'd be better served calling me Isolde." She says. An Orlesian name on a Ferelden Templar. This whole Circle was just a mess of people who didn't know where they belonged, it seems. Though, Isolde seems quite certain, even if her name doesn't fit.

Ashalle looks up, still blushing but relief in her blue-green eyes. "Then you are Isolde, and I am Ashalle," she chirps, confirming the idea readily. "Even if your name is Orlesian, you have a very Fereldan heart. Do you also wear boots beneath your gown?" she asks, reaching out to pinch playfully at the blonde's skirts, to draw them up and aside enough to check, if Isolde stands still for it.

"Well, I should hope so. My father is the Arl of West Hills, if I'm not Ferelden, I'm not sure who would be." Isolde says with another laugh. She indulges the pull at her skirts, lifting one foot so her footwear is exposed easily. They're finely made and thin, soft doeskin lined in rabbit fur, but they are boots, even with the embroidery and the thin sole. There would be sturdier ones later, when it was time for her armor.

"That's a lineage that would be hard to dispute," Ashalle admits, stifling giggles. "And even if you weren't an Arl's daughter, there's your accent to consider." She casts her eyes down. "That certainly looks like a boot to me, and a shoemaker's daughter ought to know! And this one should probably look for a tailor, and soon. I have boots that fit, but this robe…" She spreads the layered skirts, perhaps a touch embarrassedly. "It's obvious I'm a mage, but do I have to look like a sunrise? Kat doesn't, and it makes me cringe just to stand next to her when /I/ do."

There's another small laugh. "I think we could probably arrange some new robes for you. If you send me your preferred colors, I can see what can be done." She says simply, and makes a clicking sound with her tongue that gets Dane up to his feet. "As it is, though, I need to go get armored for patrol." Dane nudges at Ashalle's hand, tail wagging.

"Oh… I'll have to think about that," Ashalle says, taken a bit aback. Someone actually /wanting/ to help her with her robes? Or much of anything, really? She has to restrain herself from hugging the Templar on the spot, and it's obvious. "Thank you so much, Isolde! I will definitely see about putting together a list," she says at last, leaning down to give Dane a last scritch behind the ears. "And please let me know if you ever need help with your armor? I had to help Will and Ivy with theirs, back at… in the past, back home," she amends hastily. "Take care… and take care of your mistress, Dane."

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