anon1879: AO3 / original TFAB post

Such economy of line, of words, to capture such action, such desire, such despair, in a single moment, never static, never dull, with light that positively radiates from the screen.  Anon is particularly skilled at embracing and developing the secondary characters that sometimes fall into obscurity.

It is a cool morning even though it does not look like one. The sun shines brightly through the colored glass of the chapel, its light broken into a spontaneous mosaic onto Andraste’s tall figure. The eyes can get lost easily into this pattern, searching for hidden messages in between the specks that have no design, but the granite chills the heart through fingertips that lay against it, reminding Maurevar that there is always the blunt, simple reality of life behind all the dreams that can be dreamt.

He stands there in silence, staring at the wall but not seeing, feeling the need for guidance but not asking for any, listening to his mind but not hearing any answer. His heart is disturbed. He does not understand why it happened, but he knows that it is all it takes to create the ripples of feeling that will not stop. A droplet sinking into the perfect stillness that was there, carrying all his uncertainties below the surface.

Maurevar has said nothing, has done nothing. Malcolm does not know, has not noticed.

One tear going down his friend’s cheek, and discreetly brushed away. That’s all it took to make him doubt.

A Templar and a Mage