bethen avilla ; the circle mage (bethe) wrote in thedas,
The former templar's protests were lost on Bethen; she could hear him clearly, and the softer part of her wanted to go back and apologize, but the stubborn, dignified side of her persona that had emerged to counter Thais was far stronger. It was no use to grow a spine and then lose it within seconds, not when she had to eventually prove herself worthy of the command she'd assumed as a Grey Warden. She barely noticed the wolf sidling up beside her once more until they were standing at the landing in front of the Chantry's doors, barred only by the presence of a Chanter who bore a look of consternation as she approached. He looked to want to summon the right words to turn both of them back, but was fearful of the sheer size of the beast. It was likely he had seen the exchange between Alderic and the wolf, as well as recognized the victor of said match, and lacked the ability to formulate his dismay in a verbal manner.
Little more than a brow arched by the mage caused the robed man to bow his balding head and step aside to open the doors. Bethen tried to keep back a smirk at his reaction, though it was hard not to feel some giddiness in the power of intimidation. As the wolf kept pace, she wondered briefly if this was how Coan felt with Noa at his side. She was rather fond of the idea of having a pet, or at least a non-judgmental companion. Calling this feral creature a pet seemed to be...belittling in consideration of his nature, as was her uncertainty toward what she ought to call him. He would require a name other than "Wolf" at some point, if he had intentions on staying with the group.
Unsurprisingly, many eyes turned in their direction as they strolled down the main aisle of the old structure, though Beth paid them no heed -- her focus was entirely on the fact that the interior was just as she remembered it. It was gratifying to see that not all of her memories were faulty or just that, a faded snapshot of a past desperately held onto. She had no fondness for the long lectures of the Sisters that she and the other children were forced to memorize, nor for their scrutiny when she questioned what they believed Andraste's message to be, but her thoughts of this building were far warmer at present than they had been the last time she saw it.
However, as they drew closer to the pulpit, Bethen began to feel the return of her earlier anxiety. To their right would be the Revered Mother's office; all she could think of was the horror that was on her Reverence's face upon seeing Bethen unintentionally perform her first spell. She had never meant any harm, and yet... Her hand wandered down to the wolf's mane, fingers curling into his fur and reaching for the warmth of the skin that was beneath it for some comfort, while the other was held clenched at her side. Unlikely as it was that the same woman would still be there after all these years, Beth remained hesitant to cross the threshold that secluded the priest from the main hall. She lingered outside, her earlier confidence fleeting in the face of bad memories and low expectations.