Lucressia furrowed her brow, even as the mage turned away from her. Had that been a refusal? The fool. But she would not let this small roadblock bother her, or stop her; if the mage wanted to risk her life, it was her own problem. They walked through the empty corridors, quietly; at one point, as they neared the corridors that led towards the Chantry dormitories, Lucressia called a whispered, "Wait, one moment," and slipped into the shadows along the side of the hall, underneath a tall statue of the Bride of the Maker.
She knew, having memorized the spot, where she had secreted her knives. She fished behind the statue, small hands slipping into dusty, cramped quarters and closing around the hilt of one distinctive Crow Dagger. She pulled it free, setting it on the ground, and reached back into the crevice for the second one. Once she had them (and after sparing a glance up to Elsa to gauge her reaction, if she could even see clearly the weapons that Lucressia outfit herself with) she slid one into the top of her boot, carefully; the other would have fit up a loose sleeve, but the mage robes were tight against her skin. She paused a moment, looking for somewhere to secret it.
Any further up her skirt was out––it would be impractical to retrieve in the beginning of a fight, if it came to outright fighting. Likewise, the bodice would be uncomfortable; if she had to move quickly she'd be likely to stab herself. Sighing, still bent over, she slipped it into her other boot. If she had to draw, she'd have to do it from a crouch; quickly. She hoped that Templars were no faster in armor than the heavily armored men who did not serve the Maker. If not, this would turn ugly, fast.
She rose again, and came back to her mage guide. "Very good. Let us see if we can find him." They were, she thought, close to the empty passages; they should be able to hear his loud, clanking walk and footfalls. And when they did… then, she would go into action.