When Sarel returned from changing into his robes, he watched the sparring Sarel watched the sparring from afar. He'd had little experience with weapons, as anything more that a staff and wand were viewed as unnecessary for a mage to wield in Kinloch Hold..
However, he had always felt drawn to the ancient arts the tomes mentioned, but never described (he was fairly certain a gray bearded Chantry loyalist or an immaculately groomed Knight Captain had "liberated" the library of such ridiculous tomes; when your first line of defense against magic is taking that magic away and stabbing the now impotent people holding sticks and wearing little more than their small clothes, the idea of giving them swords and armor might be a little disconcerting. It's also horrible. He watched the Dalish elf and Human woman with the huge swords closely, before blushing and realizing he'd be lucky to lift a regular blade, let alone a huge blade. However, if either had training with a smaller weapon. . . It's unlikely, until I can understand the way the Ancient Elves compensated for their lighter frames toting that much armor, however learning how to hold a sword regardless seems reasonable, and perhaps a logical first step. He made a mental note to ask Tessa for training, as soon as a time presented itself. She seemed less likely to judge him for any mistakes, like her elven opponent surely would.
As the two danced to and fro in a display equally as mesmerizing and terrifying to Sarel as any of his battle magic would be to them, he saw Etienne and the Elven bard. . . and he had his hand on her lap. Confusion and relief about a solved problem gave way to anger. Was Etienne- after making Sarel give an uncomfortable lesson on inappropriate flirtation and expectations, now paying for an elven entertainer's. . . services? He had a type, it seemed. The idea of him paying for her services sickened him, though; elves were forced to do unsavory things, but he'd have thought Etienne, a mage, used to being subservient, would know better than to take advantage of that. He remembered the silver the inn keeper gave him, and his pay.
He undid the purse, and looked inside. Not much, but a lot for an elf, and more than he had had for a while. He thought about how long Etienne might have been gone from the Circle, how much allowance he might have had for his necessities, how much coin he'd likely still have to spend on such. . . entertainment. Surely, what he had left would cover it? His respect for the party had fallen when he saw they had taken an elven "camp follower," and he was ashamed to admit he had avoided her in judgement. He had done questionable things in his life, too, and sometimes things are necessary, or seem necessary at the time. Her safety- and dignity- were endangered for personal pleasure.
First, he'd mention to Tessa his interest in the blade, then he'd confront. . . Rael, was it? Hopefully, before they. . . He blushed a deep scarlet. Sarel had never been interested in. . . coupling, whether for love or coin or enjoyment. He noticed people who were attractive, sure, however he couldn't bring himself to have a romantic interest in anyone. The idea of raising an elf blooded, most likely magical child in the world as-it-was terrified him and sent him into depressive fits, and even the thought of. . . other avenues. . . with no chance of offspring still meant lovers would be split up, either by bureaucracy or Templars or death. Mages and city Elves don't get happy endings. . . yet.
He made his way over to wait for Tessa, for when she finished sparring,
When the sparring was complete, he approached her. "Excuse me, Serah Tessa, I have a proposition for you, if you have a moment."
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