faderift | [ Open ] You are a Giant Redwood, Falling on a Family of Deer

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[ Open ] You are a Giant Redwood, Falling on a Family of Deer

WHO: Avery and OPEN
WHAT: Another post-shardbearer-plot (this one) post! This one a slightly wider spread catch-all
WHEN: Late September/early October
WHERE: Around Skyhold
NOTES: Warning for grouchy, injured baker! Also, potential references to violence and torture and gore from said shardbearer plot

Kitchens

Anyone coming in for a visit or just down here passing by over these few weeks is probably going to be hearing a lot more banging and clattering and cursing than usual before they even reach the doors. Sounds which further investigation will reveal to be the sweet music of a very frustrated Avery trying to navigate the narrow spaces between counters in here sporting a sling on one arm and a crutch under the other. What with her junked-up shoulder and still heavily bandaged leg, y'know?

If they're lucky, they might even get the pleasure of seeing her fumble at doing simple tasks one-handed or knock over a tray of breadrolls with her crutch and transcend anger into a quantum state of silent fuming. The kitchen has never betrayed her like this before.

Healing Tents

Hopefully it won't be like that for too much longer though. And it's this hope that has Avery diligently visiting the healing tents at the appropriate intervals to have the progress of her wounds checked on. The shoulder, thankfully, is not so bad, as long as she makes sure to keep from moving it around too much for a while, but the leg... Well, it turns out giant, magical wolf bites don't really give a damn about magical healing. They're stubborn like that and refuse to go away on anyone's schedule but their own!

Stables

During those moments when Avery doesn't have reason to visit the healing tents but has been shooed out of the kitchen to do this thing called... relaxing? (She thinks she might have heard of it once, but she really has no idea what such a strange and foreign concept could truly be. It sounds like a trap.) She usually wanders down to the stables to check in with some of her favorite horses and maybe have a go at brushing out their manes and tails while she's at it. Hopefully without being disturbed by anyone, but everyone knows how likely that is to work out for her.

Training Grounds

Though lately she's been spending a little time watching the soldiers train as well. She's not a terrible fighter herself, but most of what she knows is about how to make your average bully or mugger eat their own teeth. If she'd had real battle training like these people, would things have gone differently on that last mission? She can't help but wonder about it as she silently observes.

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He comes in, dipping his hands in the washbasin quickly and wiping them off before tuning to see who is waiting this time. It's the woman whom he'd upset at the snowfight, he realizes after a moment, and one who has been getting her leg seen to. Maybe this time he can avoid sticking his foot in his mouth. Maybe.

"Your leg, right? I'm here to take a look at it."

Oh, she vaguely remembers him as well. The mage who'd tried to get her to stop working for a bit and have some fun, right? Well, he's got half his wish come true right now, eh?

There's a beat after he enters where Avery says nothing, just looking him up and down, and then she nods. "If you haven't heard, don't bother with any magic. It won't help."

He waits through the brief evaluation, wonders if he should have worn the purple robes instead of the blue today, and then nods back.

"I've heard, fortunately. Though not fortunate for your healing; I hope we can find some way around that soon." Anders grabs a stool, some elfroot and clean bandages, and gestures at her leg.

"But that's not likely to happen soon. Right now we've got to make sure your wounds continue to improve. Would you mind getting your leg up on the table, and uncovered?"

Avery obliges, wincing a few times in the process but trying not to react any more than that. She's a big girl. She can tough it out.

"Must be rare," she comments, the first thing that pops into her head, just to have something else but how much that smarts to focus on. "Something you can't just--" A snap of her fingers. "--and have done with."

"Less rare than I'd like," he admits, looking up from the wounds he's cleaning. "I wish magic could answer any illness and any injury, but there's still some ground to gain there. But the longer we're free, the longer we're outside and exposed to more varieties of things that ail people, the more good we can do."

It seems like it should be common sense, that most people would want more healers learning and accessible, but there are so many who are still afraid. On both sides.

"But that's still something of an uphill climb, no matter how much I hope our freedom stays."

Well, that's 2 for 2 on him trying to turn their conversations into philosophical debates within the first three seconds. This time on mage freedom, is it?

Sure, she has a few choice thoughts on the topic, but that doesn't mean she wants to talk about it. So instead of taking the bait, Avery just stares at him blankly for a few seconds and then says, "Guess you're in the right place for weird hurts and ills."

Old habits die harder than demons under constant assault.

He silently reminds himself that she's a patient as he looks back at just her leg. Leg, a wound. An object. Which is apparently what a healer is to her, if she can use their help and not care about their lives. But she's not alone in that, and he has a better understanding now of how lecturing doesn't... actually help. He breathes in and out through his nose as he dabs elfroot into the wound.

"One can find weird hurts and ills anywhere. It seems to be the nature of Thedas. There's more than the average here, yes, but there's plenty of work across the lands." Neutral. He's minutely proud of himself for that.

Nobody said she doesn't care. Just that she doesn't care to discuss it. Especially with a complete stranger. There's a difference.

Though it's not like she has much choice if he decides to press the topic anyway, as she is physically unable to escape him at the moment.

"True," she acknowledges, pausing to hiss slightly at contact with the bites. "Though I've never met anyone quite so set on sticking their nose every place in those lands they're told will get it lopped right off their face." Something she is both respectful and critical of simultaneously, i.e., the people in the Inquisition are stupid... but in a good way?

Edited 2016-09-27 07:01 (UTC)

He glances back up before refocusing on the wounds.

"It's a lack of sticking noses in that causes problems in the first place. Turning a blind eye lets problems fester and grow." Does she mean him in particular? It wouldn't be a surprising assessment, really. "When we help each other, we help all of Thedas, and it needs it if you listen to any of the Rifters talk about their worlds."

There's no talk of slavery from them, or mages being held in places. There's schools one can come and go from, equality, possibilities. As long as one doesn't talk too much with the Outsider.

Maybe. Personally, Avery has barely spent any time talking to the Rifters (She even has two Rifters as roommates now and hasn't spoken to them that much, you know, seeing as one isn't allowed to leave the healing tents yet and the other is locked in the dungeon for giving Avery all these bitemarks on her leg.). And the one conversation she did have about one of their homes was about how she was trying to escape someone who considered her their property.

In any case, that doesn't mean she disagrees. "Good luck convincing most to help anyone other than themselves."

"It does take work, doesn't it."

His voice is very, very dry. "Imagine if it didn't." What a world that would be, where people stopped and helped others. It might look a lot like his clinic in Darktown, when he was in control and not Justice - dirty and dangerous, but so needed.

"It won't happen today, and it won't happen tomorrow, but maybe seeing people from so many different backgrounds here in Skyhold will spread some awareness."

He's careful as he spreads the ointment that's going to prevent infection and numb some of the pain in her wounds, touch far more gentle than his habit of judging people.

"Even that's giving people a lot of credit," Avery says simply. She could go on. Talk about how selfish and cruel most people are, how they showed it all too clearly in their response to all the troubles going on these days.

How maybe the Inquisition could have been the beacon he's talking about if they still had the Herald...

But that's not her style. Instead, she just leaves it at that and scowls out toward Skyhold proper.

"So why are you with the Inquisition, then, if not to help?" Maybe she's like him, seeking to atone for something that has no atonement, but few are. Few have done what he has.

"I'd say some of the people here aren't merely refugees, but are looking to do what they can for others. Not all. I doubt it's even half. But it's some, and that's a start. And if people see that it's fulfilling to help..." He shrugs. "It isn't going to be like wildfire. But it's a ripple on the pond. It could spread."

Avery leans back, arms crossed, for a long moment of silence before pinching the hem of her tunic and lifting it just enough to show a sliver of the burn scar that covers much of the left side of her torso. "Ran afoul of some rebel mages in the Hinterlands. Barely made it back to a healer."

She drops the hem again and briefly licks her chops, continuing, "Then the healer got killed, and I started rotting. Slowly. Because all the fighting between the mages and templars meant no one could get in or out... until the Inquisition showed up. They brought in a new healer, saved my life.

"So when I got better, I thought I'd do them a turn in kind."

Without uncrossing her arms, Avery gives a little 'ta-dah' gesture with one hand. Now he has his answer to why she's here and, maybe, why she reacted the way she did when he started casually flashing fire magic her way the first time they met. "So there you go. Find an hundred or two more sods dying in other men's wars and you've got a pond to start rippling."

Other men's wars. If people gave a damn about other people, this wouldn't have been a war in the first place. But no, it's always easier to lock the mages up and pretend they're a problem instead of people...

He takes a slow breath in and out.

"Or see to the needs of people before war breaks out. See that every person is a person, deserving of a chance to live without walls and chains, and perhaps there'd be far fewer conflicts. If every problem is the problem of someone else, the suffering of some other people, then the world will never improve."

Anders rewraps the leg with gentleness that's not entirely in line with the disapproval in his voice.

She scoffs. "Oh, of course. What was I thinking? I should've been out there breaking down that Tower in the lake brick by brick, not working every bloody day of my life to barely keep food on the table for my family. If I had, I never would've been nearly murdered. It's my own fault, really, when you think about it.

"I was practically clapping mages in irons myself. Maybe I deserve it. Shall I close my eyes and let you finish the job? I'm sure there's a surgeon's knife around here somewhere if you'd rather not cause a fuss with a gout of flame."

She tilts her head to the side, exposing her throat.

"Please." That's as unimpressed as he can possibly sound. "That's exactly the problem, right there. You focused on you, acting like you're the only one suffering when you're one of many, and we'd all be better off with freedom."

He puts the bandages away, rolling his eyes even though she's not looking at him.

"Two healers tended to you in your story. There'd be more food if mages were free to help with working the land and harvesting, more trade if they could help with roads, fewer debilitating injuries or illnesses, so on, and so forth. Feel free to act the martyr, but the problem isn't you not tearing down the bricks. It's that you call it someone else's war. We are sons and daughters and cousins and siblings and people like any other, and freedom benefits everyone."

"You sanctimonious prick."

This is a face of utter disgust. Take it in. Enjoy it. "First I'm a heartless bastard because of opinions you think I have--and if you're about to say you didn't say that, you should've got your face the message too, not just your fancy speeches. And now, I'm a selfish 'martyr' as well for giving you a bit of lip for it?"

She shakes her head and continues, "You want to think I'm blind to all the suffering you see from way up there on your high horse? That a stranger who isn't immediately drooling at the chance to tell you how right you are and give your ego a good toss--" And yes, she makes a sarcastic jerk-off motion with her hand here because she is a lady. "--is a monster? That's fine. I don't give a fuck what you think about me.

"This isn't my war. But I'm here helping anyway, aren't I? You've been done wrong, but not by me. And not by half however many hundreds--thousands--of other people who've got caught in the middle and fared worse than I did. Mages and not. And don't for a second tell me we deserved that just for not sucking your moral knob as quick and loud as you'd like."

Anders snorts, trying not to laugh, caught between aggravation at how deliberately obtuse she seems to be to him and the hilarity of her words and gestures.

"It's Thedas' war. You're no Rifter. Thedas had it coming sooner or later, it just came about now rather than in a hundred years from now. If you're done being overdramatic and flopping about, you can go. Your wounds are continuing to heal. If you'd like to continue, I can evaluate your gestures and words and see if I can't make contact with a theatre troupe. I know someone who may know a few."

Don't worry, she's got him covered. Pulling her crutch over and somewhat clumsily getting to her feet, Avery actually does laugh and almost just leaves it at that and goes. Maker, does she hate talking to people, and this is a prime example of why. But for some reason, she can't completely let it go yet.

"You know what the funny thing is? As unpleasant as I find you, I never actually disagreed with you. Things needed to change. Mages are people and deserve a lot better than they've got." It had even been mages she was protecting when she got the wounds he was just treating, and she'd do it again. "That has nothing to do with why I think you're a prick."

She shifts her weight on the crutch. "It's because you can ask someone to tell you about the worst memory of their life, and you miss all but one word of it, so your only response is to scold and mock them for how they talk or how upset they get and say they and all the rest of Thedas that's bleeding and dying in this war 'had it coming.' All while trying to preach some shite about caring and brotherhood."

Cocking her head, Avery gives an encouraging motion with her good arm and continues, "Go on. Just be honest. You don't care about me at all, and you sure as hell think you're better than me. I want to hear you say it, at least once, before I go."

He shakes his head. "I've no reason to lie to you, even if it might feel a little satisfying as I find you unpleasant as well, so you'll not be hearing that."

There are very few people he thinks he's better than. She doesn't come close to them, unless she's gone and killed innocents and somehow no word has traveled about it. As far as the other, she's a patient. He cares about the people who fall into that category.

"The war was coming because the division has grown exceptionally deep, and only coming together and caring will prevent it from getting worse. It's not shit, bull or otherwise. Have a good day."

With that he's turning around and starting to tidy up. She's got a huge chip on her shoulder, and every now and then he can see when it's not going to work to try to help with it.

And there it is again. Him lecturing her and acting as if he's done nothing wrong. As if he hasn't been treating her with blatant disrespect or disregard and she's been completely unreasonable out of nowhere. Because, obviously, he's smarter than her and everything she says is just hot air he can ignore, while every syllable he utters is some immaculate lesson on morality less perfect beings must take to heart and thank him for, since... what? She's younger than him? She has emotions? She doesn't talk in a way he considers "respectable?"

Once more, with feeling, she thinks about what a condescending prick this steaming pisspot of a man is, despite all his claims of caring about anything other than hearing his own voice and having people tell him how right he is.

"Maybe you should try it sometime then," she grumbles, after he continues to play innocent, and starts to slowly hobble her way out. "Caring. Maybe even opening your ears for once, not just your mouth."

"I've got caring covered, thank you very much. And the other? After you."

There's nothing really to gain from talking back, but he's getting work done while she continues to be willfully ignorant. He's not losing anything from this. And sometimes it's nice to have someone be so utterly wrong. Bizarrely pleasant. After all, not caring is the opposite of his problems.

This time she really does just laugh. She's already leaving, and he's literally calling after her as she goes. If he's really that desperate to convince her of the kind of man he is, she almost pities him.

He can tell her she's wrong and he cares more about people than the way they think of him as many times as he wants--Maker knows he has already--but eventually he'll have to act like it as well.

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[ Open ] You are a Giant Redwood, Falling on a Family of Deer

Healing Tents

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