Thread: Where Allegiances Lie [Kyre & The Intrepid Wanderer]

Darryn froze. There she was, a mere foot away at most, and separated only by the heavy steel plate across his chest. She was so -- amazing. One of the fastest Harrowings in the last twenty years of this Circle's history, a quickly rising student, the prized pupil of more than one Senior Enchanter's class, and before these troubles she was the name whispered among some of the younger children brought to the Circle as who they wanted to be like some day. She was beautiful, with near-ivory skin virtually untouched by the light of the sun, the body of a woman, the face of youth, and the graces of a lady. She just -- was. There was no real way to quantify everything about her in a mere few words. That would be akin to quantifying, the elves are a shorty, pointy-eared people who excel at poverty . And then there was Darryn. Six foot tall, lyrium addicted, bull of a man. Yet he had his redeeming qualities. He was the youngest Knight-Lieutenant in the last fifteen year's of the Circle, a fact impressed upon him by Knight-Commander Andreev when he had been promoted. He was a virtual master of the Cleansing Aura, though that was hardly a talent that a mage might find very impressive. Outside of that, though? He was like a candle held to a forest fire. His complexion was, if only just, more worn than that of the young woman beside him, and his eyes glowed with the lyrium that kept each Templar zealously bound to the Chantry. He had no Knight-Captain doting over his achievements like a proud parent, no impressive aptitude for anything outside of the Cleansing Aura, and the even less impressive art of swinging a massive broadsword. And certainly none of the young children in the tower ever whispered to each other their dreams of being like him , the friendly giant who always secreted them extra sweets away from the watchful eyes of their caretakers. What's more, he was at a loss for words. But far too stubborn to stop trying to speak. At her words, his face turned pale, and he suddenly raised his hands in front of his chest as if trying to wave away any accusation the likes of which she was implying, No, no no no. Nothing like that. He paused for a moment, a school boy trying to find his words in front of her. I was just, uh -- -- thinking about you like a fool, because I've got a stupid little, huge crush on you, so I wasn't paying attention until I saw you. -- looking for a book! He said, setting eyes on the nearest impressively thick-looking tome resting upon the nearby stacks, and grabbing it without thought to the title, Yep! Here for a book! You know me, I just love to read. Yeah, nice and depressingly thick. Girls liked guys with brains, right? The fake smile was a terrible cover for the nervous boy hidden beneath. The years in the orphanage and throughout training had done him many favors. Dealing with attractive women wasn't one of them. So, um. The tome tucked under one arm looking like a pamphlet in comparison to it's bearer, I was just wondering if, uh, have you -- -- ever considered the idea of having a relationship with a Templar? Because he must have called the Maker a foul name to find he has a crush on you. -- been having a good day? Of note, on his file was a commendation for notable bravery. Apparently this was false when dealing with the fairer sex.