faderift | [OPEN] Welcome Back! Now Take a Bath.

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[OPEN] Welcome Back! Now Take a Bath.

WHO: Blackwall and you!
WHAT: Blackwall returns to Skyhold after being away for a few months
WHEN: Current?
WHERE: Around Skyhold, mostly the stables and the tavern
NOTES: none that I can think of... his intro is over here. prose or brackets are fine

i. Just arrived
It's midday when Blackwall and the small group of scouts and soldiers who'd been with him in the Storm Coast are spotted by one of Skyhold's lookouts making their way back up the mountain road. They're definitely not in a rush, but getting inside of the fortress' high walls and out of the whipping mountain winds is a relief. After weeks in the constant drizzle of the Storm Coast, dry clothing felt like an unattainable fantasy.

Muddy, damp, and worn out, Blackwall was looking even more unkempt and wild than when he'd first arrived in Haven. The Storm Coast seemed to have that affect on people; the others with him didn't look like they'd fared much better. He's a little surprised at how glad he is to be back, but why wouldn't he be? A change of clothes into something that isn't already soaked through with rain and a proper place to enjoy a drink, what's not to love?

ii. Sparring/Beating up practice dummies close to the stables
It doesn't take Blackwall long at all to fall back into a routine, which means getting some time in with a dull sword and a stuffed potato sack on a stick meant to look like a person. It's unusual for him to be in anything less than his full armor, which includes the puffy gambeson he always wears, but it's still hung up to dry by the fire in the stables, so this morning he's settled for a loose tunic and trousers.

Unlike some of the others whacking away at the dummies, his movements are calm and devoid of emotion, simply going through training exercises and focusing on form and technique. Training exercises are all well and good, but if someone actually offered to spar he'd be hard pressed to turn them down, especially after fighting nothing but bears and spiders in the mud for the past few weeks.

iii. Tavern
"Oh, pardon me," Blackwall offers, managing to sound completely genuine while fighting back a chuckle. It's late evening and the tavern is apparently the place to be. It's surprisingly easy to misjudge how close you are to someone after a few drinks and Blackwall misses the mark as he leans over the counter to signal for another pint, bumping a few people.

"Ale, like the last one," He tells the barkeep when he gets their attention before offering a slightly intoxicated smile while waiting.

iv. or choose your own adventure!
[Walking around Skyhold or find him in the stables... demand he come tour the Warden encampment and watch him squirm, or comment about how much he needs a haircut. I'm down for all the things :3]

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"No apology needed." He'd stiffened at first, certainly, but the apology sounds authentic. The man hadn't bumped him in an attempt at provoking a fight. If so, he wouldn't be smiling now. Anders raises his mug as soon as the other man has his.

"A few in already, I see. You're staying nearby?"

"Of course, the night's not exactly young," He says with a friendly smile, though, honestly, it isn't that late either. His stein is returned full and he happily raises it, mirroring Anders, before taking a shallow drink.

"Sure. I have a small setup in the loft of the stables," A smile tugs at his lips again, "What? Worried I won't make it home alright? How very sweet of you." He chuckles in obvious amusement.

Anders takes a small sip as well, smiling back. "More worried for the beard. I've seen few as magnificent as that; it'd be a shame if anything was to befall it."

If he was single... But he isn't. And he doesn't regret that. That doesn't mean he can't flirt, though. "It's an entirely selfish take on matters, I assure you. We need more beards like yours around here."

That definitely earns the mage a laugh. He unconsciously raises a hand to run it over his chin and down said beard, smoothing it down.

"And here I thought you were concerned for me. Alas, I'm just the face holding up the beard to you, nothing more," He chuckles. "Blackwall," He offers and holds out a hand in greeting, though it's a little awkward being squished in at the bar together, "But you can call the beard whatever you like."

"Blackwall. Not the Blackwall, warden, wings of valor, previously with the Inquisition, all that?" It probably is. How many Blackwalls are with the Inquisition, after all? It's a distinct name. And also, possibly, a problem. He's supposed to be honorable and protective, and he has to have seniority over Herc. How will Anders being a part of the Wardens again be taken?

It's with more than a little trepidation, poorly hidden behind a smile, that Anders takes the hand and wonders how much this guy is about to regret it.

"I'm Anders. Warden Anders. I'll let you decide if I get to give the beard nicknames after you process that."

"Uhhh...," Recognition brings a jolt of anxiety and paranoia, but it quickly becomes obvious that the mage doesn't know him. Did everyone know his name around here? He makes a quick recovery, "'Previously with the Inquisition'? Do you know something I don't?"

Sure, the Wardens had been exiled from the keep, but surely they were still considered part of the Inquisition.

"Anders... why do I know that name?" He'd been trying to sort through all the new faces around Skyhold, but wasn't keeping up very well. He knew he'd heard the other warden's name around, but couldn't quite remember why, and the third -or was this the fourth?- pint of ale wasn't helping to jog his memory.

The man's drunk, but yes, apparently it is that Blackwall. Maker's breath.

"Yes. Haven't you heard? You've been declared... Maker, I don't have the brainpower for that line of joking. I meant previously here at Skyhold, off on assignment somewhere or other. And at least if you can't place the name you're not furious. That's a good sign."

He takes a drink himself before forging onward. "Anders. Former companion of Jonas Cousland, former companion of Marian Hawke. Is that ringing bells?"

You've been declared... Maker, a sentence like that had endless possibilities, most of them less than ideal. But he hadn't been arrested at the gates of Skyhold, so that was something.

At least, the reveal comes quickly enough and, by some miracle, he resists the urge to throttle the mage. Maker, how much had he paled?

Cousland and Hawke, those names were recognizable... even for someone who'd been living under a rock for the past five years. Or out in the middle of nowhere as the case may be.

"Anders... What, the apostate? The one who... You... Maker's balls... That Anders?!" All those people at the chantry in Kirkwall, all the people who had died in the fighting since. He'd heard the man was an abomination though he hadn't heard he was a Warden. Had that happened before or after Kirkwall, he wondered. Luckily for Anders, attempting to process this, all of this, seemed to take precedence over outright hatred.

"I think you and I should have a proper chat. Maybe somewhere a little more out of the way? A table? Upstairs?" He wanted answers more than anything else, but attempting to shout at each other while crammed in at the bar wasn't the way to go about it.

Paling. Oh, yeah. Blackwall knows who he is and is angry. At least he isn't pale for long.

"That Anders," he says with resignation. "Yes, let's go to one of the tables upstairs." At least if Blackwall was going to attack it would have been when he was changing colors. He sighs and gets up, nodding to the bartender before heading to the staircase.

There aren't too many other people up here, and those few that are seem to be sticking to themselves and minding their own business. Anders picks the table furthest away from anyone else before taking a seat and looking up at Blackwall, waiting, watching.

Blackwall gestures in the general direction of the stairs with a sweep of his hand, motioning for Anders to lead the way. Words are still proving difficult, but he has the unhurried walk through the tavern and up the stairs to try to process things. He's not sure it helps, but takes a seat across from Anders.

Where to start? Maker.

"The story I'd heard said you were an abomination," The mage didn't look like any abomination he'd ever seen, "And didn't include that bit about you being a Warden... that a recent development?"

His tone is guarded and edged with disbelief, but still lacks the anger Anders seems to be expecting.

"The story's true." There's no point in beating around the bush. "I'm possessed by the spirit of Justice, a very strong-willed and determined spirit, who also served with Warden-Commander Cousland. And that may answer your other question in part - no. I've been a Warden for a long time. I got chased off."

Anders exhales and takes a drink from his mug, making a face. It tastes awful, or Justice wants him to think it does. Either way, he doesn't approve of this batch. Oh well. He should be sober for this anyway, reporting in to who is likely about to take command of their little group.

"Long story short, a lot of Templars didn't like that I was conscripted when they were going to kill me for escaping a seventh time. I didn't die in their trap, they started Joining, making my life hell, and attempted to kill me. Instead, I'd joined with Justice, and a large number of Templars who were Wardens in name only died that night. I... didn't see myself getting welcomed back to Vigil's Keep, and I ran. Page forward to a few months back, when I turned myself in after helping the Inquisition for a few months. The Wardens decided to spare me."

Short enough, concise enough. There wasn't really a way to cut more out.

To his credit, Blackwall keeps a guarded, neutral expression, working on his drink unhurriedly as he lets Anders explain. It's like a history lesson with no real explanations, but it does answer his question, so Blackwall can't really fault him. If he'd wanted a different answer, he should've asked a different question.

He says nothing for a long pause, but of everything Anders has said, there is only one one sentence of any importance.

"If the Wardens have made their decisions, then I stand with it," And that was all their was to it. He takes another drink, morbid curiosity getting the better of him. "Do you regret it? What you did in Kirkwall?"

As a Warden, he would agree with what the Wardens had chosen, but he could still have a personal opinion on the matter, on the man sat across from him. Everyone was capable of mistakes, of committing atrocities. He knew that better than most. Remorse, the desire to atone, that made all the difference.

He can't help it but exhale with some relief when Blackwall speaks and then drinks. Herc's not going to be overruled, Anders doesn't have to scramble to keep Nate from doing something risky again, it's all right. He takes a hasty drink himself, having forgotten how awful it tastes. That's not the most pleasant combination with the question, but at least he doesn't grimace.

"I regret the innocent lives lost. I know it's not the same thing. But that's all I can say. More would have died if I'd not done what I had, and mages would still be captive and dying like that." Anders shakes his head. "After seven years of trying every peaceful method, the Rite of Annulment was still coming and I couldn't do nothing. I couldn't stand idly by."

It's not going to be what Blackwall wants to hear. But it's being upfront is better than claiming regret he doesn't feel.

It isn't what he wants to hear, not entirely, but he also knows that it's impossible for him to ever fully understand everything that had led up to that moment. Nothing was ever as cut and dry as people would prefer.

"I've heard about the Templar in charge, that she'd lost her mind, but surely there were those who stood up to her, who spoke out against Annulment. I mean from within the Chantry. The ones whose hands the mages' blood would be on. Egh. It doesn't matter now, I suppose," At least Anders had had a purpose. He'd been trying to put an end to tyranny and oppression. Blackwall didn't necessarily agree with his methods, but no one was infallible, especially with a demon in your head.

Speaking of, "You're still, uh... the spirit, is it still...?"

Anders snorts and then shakes his head.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have... but no. None stood up to her, not Templars, not Chantry, until she lifted her weapon against Hawke. Elthina, the Grand Cleric, was making it clear by deed that Meredith, the Knight-Commander, had her blessing for what she was doing. There were mages dying daily, being made Tranquil for things like saying no to a Templar's advances, and the rest were living trapped in rooms. No one cared. They were just mages. I wrote letters, I spoke with people, I helped save the city, I healed for years, and my words had no weight. It still matters, though. It matters every time someone acts like the Circles were good things, as if thousands didn't suffer while dozens had safe and comfortable lives. Because they did. And yes. I'm still possessed. We're working on that."

"I didn't mean what you did doesn't matter. Obviously, it does. Forget the Kirkwall chantry, hundreds, maybe thousands are dead from the fighting that followed," He pauses, forcing himself to refocus and get back on track, "I meant that whether or not anyone spoke out against the Knight-Commander doesn't matter now. What's done is done."

Again, he pauses and takes a breath, sorting his thoughts before he says something that can too easily be misinterpreted.

"I don't agree with what you did. But I also can't blame you for the lives lost in the fighting since. Your actions were a just a catalyst that exposed a much deeper problem. It's just unfortunate that it had to get to that point for anything to be done about it."

He frowns slightly then raises and eyebrow, "And how does one 'work' on being possessed?"

"One of many catalysts, something that plenty forget. I've been told I'm not responsible for mages being free and yet I'm responsible for all of the lives lost, a complete impossibility. People think I did everything and nothing, and they're wrong on both counts."

There's a little defensiveness in his voice, though he's trying to keep that quashed. There's definitely blood on his hands, but the blood of thousands... He has enough guilt. He doesn't think he can take that much on top of it.

"And by working on being possessed, I mean Adelaide's found a few rituals that are, according to them, meant to rid one of possession. We've done two now. They've not worked, but there are three others."

Blackwall's brow furrows slightly at the man's defensive tone despite the fact that he'd basically just repeated exactly what Blackwall had said. What he'd done couldn't be considered 'right', at least he couldn't consider it right, but he could also see why Anders had felt like there'd been no other options. If anything, he could empathize, not as a mage, not in regard of the treatment of mages or circles, but as a person who had made his own mistakes, things that he'd thought he'd had no choice but to do.

"What happens if they work?" He pauses, taking a drink, "And what happens if they don't?"

He sees the frown, but as he doesn't know the source of it and Blackwall has no little authority here which means Anders doesn't push his luck and ask about it.

"If one of them works, I wind up not possessed and Justice returns to the Fade where he should be. If none of them work, I'm still possessed. One of the other healers, Adelaide LeBlanc, says that we'll find something else. We'll see." The latter isn't delivered with the greatest amount of optimism. "I don't know if there will be a solution. It's not like someone being possessed is usually able to even seek anything out. But we can lay groundwork for the future, even if there's nothing to be done about Justice."

"I see."

For some reason, Blackwall had expected a multitude of downsides to the rituals. Maybe letting the spirit loose into the world, or some chance of Anders to end up an abomination or dead. And maybe there was, but if so Anders was keeping it to himself.

"I feel like this might be an empty offer. You seem to have things as under control as you possibly can. But if there's something you think I might be able to do, something you need, you can ask.

For what it's worth, I wish you luck."

He thinks there's a very high chance of his death, but he doesn't see a reason to tell everyone that. Or anyone, even. Those who stop and think about it will probably realize that the risk of it taking his life is great; there's no need to state the obvious and perhaps give some people reason to hope for that end.

"I thank you, Warden. I'll let you know if there's any further assistance we can use, and I appreciate the offer. And the wishes. There's plenty... Mm. Well. I've made a great many angry. I wasn't exactly expecting someone as highly regarded as you to be accepting of my return to the ranks."

Blackwall laughs abruptly, leaning back and taking another drink.

"I'm sure you have," It certainly wasn't hard to see why blowing up a chantry and putting your name and face on the front of a rebellion might earn the ire of a few people.

He scratches the side of his beard, quieting and looking thoughtful just as abruptly, a serious expression coming over his face. "We all falter. The Wardens have always been about second chances, a chance change and make a difference. I wouldn't keep that from you."

Anders nods slowly.

"That's what Nate's been saying often. Nathaniel. Another Warden who served with Jonas Cousland. The best person in our camp down the hill, if you don't mind my biased opinion. Not that any of the Wardens down there are bad people." Other than him. "You'll find, on the whole, that you've found a good group to take charge of."

Take charge of. Right.

It suddenly feels like all the ale in the world wouldn't be enough, mouth dry from the thought of so many putting their faith in him.

"So I've heard," He says quietly and downs the rest of his ale, roughly half the glass. "I was a little surprised to see so many here after my return from the Storm Coast."

"We have a Zevran. When someone gorgeous is offering pampering in a warmer building in somewhere as cold as anywhere south tends to be, everyone shows up. It's a wonder Corypheus hasn't surrendered just to get a looking-after."

His voice is amused, but he saw that sudden drinking. Blackwall might not want to lead that many? It certainly fits with disappearing. Maybe Anders can offer a little help.

"That, and the man currently in charge is competent. When it comes to any matter that isn't his own health, really. People have faith in Herc, and he'll continue to carry that faith as a second, I don't doubt."

[OPEN] Welcome Back! Now Take a Bath.

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