(This was written for the lovely Graffiti My Soul, and it's her Amell Warden that is used in this. She's posted some oneshots about Faye on her profile which I highly recommend.)

In the Circle Tower, there is little room for privacy. Belongings could be searched at any time in case of a mage smuggling something (or someone) in. Faye, in particular, disliked these rules, as she liked to think herself an individual with her own things and her own thoughts. When she had confided this in First Enchanter Irving, he had asked her if any of the mage apprentices received unique robes.
"No," she had answered, confused.
"You see, child? You are not an individual in the Tower. You are a mage."

As it was only a few weeks until Faye's Harrowing, she had been permitted to be excused from classes for studying and meditation. Instead, she had been reclining on the bunk bed she shared with Arwen and spending her days reading or drawing. Drawing wasn't really allowed in the Tower unless it was for illustrating textbooks and the like, but Faye set alight to her drawings when she finished them anyway. It was strangely numbing, watching her efforts go up in flames. Over the last few weeks Faye had adopted a rather nihilistic attitude, almost positive she was going to die soon.

Faye was relaxing on her bed, sketching out a drawing of a templar who had barked at her earlier for "slacking". He hadn't had a very interesting face, it was more that Faye really wanted to see him burn. As she thought this to herself, Faye laughed at the macabre nature of her thoughts and how unlike her they were. Her laughter disturbed a figure that had been hiding around the corner - Faye could see a shoulder behind the doorway.

She eyed the figure carefully. It was clearly a templar, and she quickly shoved her drawing under the mattress in case he walked in. Which he did, and with no great amount of confidence, either.

Faye's squint turned into a wide-eyed smile when she saw who it was. "Oh, hey, Cullen!" The templar smiled awkwardly at her and rubbed the back of his neck. The gesture caused his armour to clank rather loudly, no doubt unnerving him further. One of his hands was out of Faye's line of sight. Faye wondered what had him acting so strangely.
"Did Greagoir yell at you again?" she asked, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

Cullen shifted on the spot. "No. I just, uh, I happened to hear that your Harrowing was soon? Is that right?" He sounded like he knew what the answer would be anyway, so Faye took her time before she answered. She rolled onto her back and stretched.
"Yes, it is. I'm not that nervous yet. Come to wish me luck?" She looked at him from over her brow, eyes straining.

"Something like that," she heard him mutter. Faye stared at the bottom of Arwen's bunk, wondering how fragile the wood was. She remembered in one of her lessons when Irving told her and the other apprentices that everything disintegrates eventually. Would the Tower disintegrate someday? It was hard to imagine such a great structure ever falling.

A clink of armour caused her to look to her side. Cullen was crouching (awkwardly, of course) at eye-level with her.
"I - well, this isn't a present, mages aren't allowed gifts, it's.. All I thought was that you might - not that I need it, or anything.." He was waving about a leatherbound book as he spoke. Eventually his babbling subsided to a quiet "it's called The Four Schools of Magic. I thought you might like it." He extended his gloved hand to her, and she sat up on the bed and took the book from him. His grey eyes watched warily as she felt at it. It felt full, like the pages were full of paragraphs in smallprint just aching to be read. It was different to the other books the mages were allowed to read, Faye could feel it. It was a book she could thumb through and dog-ear, rather than the pristine books in the library that Leorah kept her watchful eye on the condition of. It was hers.

"Need it." He was babbling again. "I thought you might need it. For the Harrowing. Mages - some mages - end up resorting to blood magic, and I .. well, you ought to know the potential of some of the magicks."

Faye was only half-listening, busy flicking through her new book. The book had a section on Entropy, she noticed. Entropy was rarely taught or mentioned to apprentices, as the Enchanters (and the templars, mostly) feared that it was too similar to blood magic and ran the risk of encouraging mages to darker forces. Faye wondered what Cullen had done exactly to get his hands on this.

"Thankyou, Cullen," she said slowly. "This is very.. I'm grateful." She looked up and met his eyes with a smile. This made him flinch slightly, as though she'd burned him rather than thanked him. The smile stayed on her face for a time until Faye realised Cullen's legs would be absolutely burning from how he was crouched.
"I'll.. I'll return this to you. After my Harrowing. Okay?"
Cullen stood up and glanced over at the doorways. "Alright."

"Do my stories not interest you? How unfortunate."
Faye blinked, almost tripping over her feet. Zevran was looking over at her with that smile of his, the smile that knew something was running through her mind, but wanted to distract her from it. It was very familiar to Faye. Her hand was half in her pack, resting on her copy of The Four Schools of Magic.
"I was just about to get to the part where I was bound to the bedpost," the elf sighed as though Faye's lapse in attention was an irreparable tragedy to him. "Did you find the healing you were looking for?" He asked, gesturing to her bag.

Faye pulled her hand out of her pack and shook her head vigorously, fixing her eyes on the forest before them. "No, I didn't. It's alright, I - I don't need it." Zevran raised an eyebrow. "It's fine. Let's go."