bethen avilla ; the circle mage (bethe) wrote in thedas,
Even on the one day that week when the sky seemed overcast, threatening just to drizzle, Bethen had not passed up the opportunity to spend time outside -- a fine, clear day like this would be no different. Though the Keep had an interesting library collection of its own, likely due in part to the third-in-command here, there was no way that she was going to spend another hour of her life indoors. But she had coerced the likes of Dee, Aurin and Alderic into coming with her to town enough over the last few days, that it seemed only fair to give them a break from her company. A walk around the grounds would have to suffice for now, and Beth even had a book tucked under her arm just in case she found a good spot to read and relax -- a state she had found very difficult to obtain.
But who wouldn't be anxious about the prospect of becoming a Grey Warden? It was all that Byron and Emrys spoke about, chattering on and on through every single meal such that she'd had to pick a different time to go to the dining hall to avoid it. Obviously, she was excited as well, but their attitude toward the notion was so frustratingly cavalier; they saw only the glory, but none of the risk, or the loss involved. The weight of it all, and hardly anyone around that she felt comfortable confiding in about the subject, had put her on edge, though she had maintained her usual facade of cheer quite well. She couldn't divulge Warden business to those outside of the order, Lirana never wanted to talk, Beth still didn't really think the non-magi recruits would understand her, and she couldn't just approach the templars. Not even Alderic, as finding a moment to speak had somehow become more difficult outside of the Tower than it was within.
Here she was, surrounded by an even greater population than the Tower could ever hold, and still, she never felt so entirely lost and painfully alone. It didn't help at all that she just happened to be taking her stroll through the courtyard just as Constans emerged from the smithy. Upon seeing him, Beth physically felt her heart ache, but not for the reasons that some of the other females in the area may have had. If there was a Maker, he had a wicked sense of humor. Her once-confidant was standing right in front of her, and she had seen him more often in the last month than in the last few years since he underwent the Rite, but she couldn't talk to him the way she used to and get the responses that she wanted to hear from him. The other him.
She had tried not to think about it much, but now, more than ever, she just wanted her best friend back. It was such an incredibly irrational and selfish thought; firstly, there was no known way of reversing the process, and secondly, it had happened for a very good reason. Thirdly, he hadn't turned out to be that good of a friend, after all, but that didn't stop her from wanting to speak with the Constans he used to be. Not that he was an empty shell now -- he was still a person, just...a different person. And to think that there was a time when she absolutely hated him; even that arrogant young man was preferable to talking to who he was now.
Beth began to turn back the way she came, to find somewhere entirely else to hide from feeling sorry for herself, but hesitated upon seeing a familiar blonde in bright yellow robes approach the tall man. Instinctively, she bristled at the sight, tightening her grip on her borrowed tome as she took a few steps forward, out of Enchanter Keigwin's vision, but close enough to intervene if she heard the slightest inappropriate remark. Not that she knew exactly what she would do about it if that were to happen...but she had to do something to protect him, if no one else would.