faderift | [Open] You'll think "how did I get here, sitting next to you?"

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[Open] You'll think "how did I get here, sitting next to you?"

WHO: Anders and anyone who wants to come pester him or be pestered by him
WHAT: Anders Does Skyhold
WHEN: Through Harvestmere
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: He's Anders.

1. Healing Tents

His robes are dark blue today with silver trim - Warden colors - swooshing around a little as he works around the tent. He likes these robes, which is one of the reasons for his faint smile. The main reason is far more simple; this is where he feels like he's accomplishing something good. Which is why, as long as you're not dripping blood all over the place when you come in, the small smile stays in place as he asks what brings you in today.

In the slight event someone is dripping blood all over the place, they'll be greeted with bandages and help down into a chair.

--Alternately--

He's got much of their dried herbs set out in front of him so he can take a measure of what they have and what's still good. Even in the cold mold can still set in. Supplies look mostly good, though, and he takes notes as he starts pulling some of the fresher herbs out to begin a drying process on them.

2. Training the Hero of Purrelden/Garden

Ser Pounce-a-lot had been a very special cat. He'd been easily trained, for one thing, and Anders hadn't needed to worry about hauling him down to the Deep Roads to deal with Darkspawn. Purrelden? Isn't as brave. In fact, she has a habit of being timid when first encountering new insects. Which means the best thing to do is to have her in the area where the most bugs are found - the gardens.

"You're fine. It's smaller than your paw, you can take it on." She doesn't look sure, but he has dried meat and by now she at least seems to know that batting at a bug will get her a treat. "You can do it. You're a fierce warrior. You can take on anything."

He probably looks like he's talking to a bush if someone's coming up from behind or the left, but his attention is on her. And really, talking to plants is about the least harmful thing that could be done to his reputation.

3. Teaching

Since the conference, Anders has let it be known that he's open to working with anyone who wants to learn more about the practical spells he has under his belt, as well as learning in return, or even working on trying to make new ones together. There's a few stumps left set up where the conference was, and he can be found here some evenings to teach or learn or work. Until someone drops by he's reading or playing with his cat or both. Most of the time both.

4. Mess hall

He's trying to be better about eating all of his meals. It's a work in progress. Which is why he's eating his lunch 'late,' sometime in the early afternoon, and eating is a relative term. There's food on the plate in front of him, yes, but Purrelden's batted some peas off of it and Anders is more focused on notes than actually shoveling food in his mouth at the moment.

5. Wildcard

[ooc: Want something you don't see here? Toss it up! He gets everywhere so there's no worries about coming up with a reason for Anders to be somewhere. If you have a question or want to run an idea past me first, hit me up on Plurk at Nadat or Discord at Nadat#4647!]

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Periodically Teren's work as liaison takes her up to the Keep, and although she usually doesn't hang around for very long after business has concluded, there's the rare occasion when something gives her pause.
In this case, that something is actually a someone, and he is sitting alone looking annoyingly sad and isolated, which almost grates on Teren more than if he were just yelling at her. It's been a good week or so since she and Anders last spoke, long enough for her to recuperate to the point of being able to walk around and do her wardenly duties. She's still stiff, but, largely thanks to him, not in any danger of languishing.

The fool boy isn't eating, she sees, and that more than anything is reason for her to heave a sigh and go to sit across from him, where, rather than speaking immediately, she bends to relace one of her boots. She's not here to make up, don't be an idiot.

He looks up when someone approaches, face neutral... and there's a little ice to it when he sees who it is. Why is she even sitting near him? Not like he's not glad to see that, but he hates that he's glad of it right now.

"There are other places to tie your boot. You don't have to sit next to a dangerous mage to do it." He pushes one of the peas toward Purrelden, who bats it right back. That gets a flicker of something that's almost a smile as he repeats the motion. She's all right, despite their most recent adventure. He'd worried, and still does. This pea gets smushed, so he starts with another.

"I mean, maybe it's wise to have distance. I am who I am. You're Warden leadership, it probably doesn't do to get too friendly with me. Who knows? There might even come a time when you're injured and unconscious and your life depends on being healed and if I'm there I might just go and heal you and what then?"

Oh, Andraste's tits.
Pretty much straight out the gate she rolls her eyes-- these people get so dramatic-- but she waits for him to finish instead of interrupting, just watching him flatly, as though to say 'are you done'.
"I see someone's taken an interest in the theatre," she observes, a bit more kindly than she normally would, though that... isn't saying a lot. "Really, Anders."

He narrows his eyes, entirely not sure if her tone is more gentle than normal or he's being an idiot and trying to read into it. It's difficult. Anders knows he feels intensely about things and sometimes it's far too intense, but he's stuck between the extremes right now: wanting something to have meaning because he wants caring involved, and wanting something to be deviod of meaning so he can't be hurt again. Which isn't an entirely unusual set of circumstances.

"I don't... I don't know what you want, Teren. I don't know what you want from me. I'm magic, I'm a healer. That's what I am. I can't just be fine with you suffering. I can't. And I thought there was something, friendly, at least, there, and then you threw the one thing in my face and I don't know what to think now."

There are two things he's done that he regrets. Getting one of them thrown at him from someone he had thought was a friend wasn't something he was prepared for at all.

Ridiculous. He's being ridiculous. And talkative, Maker, can the man talk. Eventually she holds out a hand as though to still him, however temporarily.
"For what it's worth, boy, I couldn't care less about some Chantry in some city that needed a good kick in the pants as it was. Far as I'm concerned, you did right by the lot of them, if that's what it took." She rests her hand back on the table, looking serious. "And you're being dramatic. If I only cared about your magic I'd never have spoken to you in the first place." She came dangerously close to saying she cares about someone, but hopefully it will slip by.
And here's where it gets awkward, as she realizes that this is probably where an apology should go, some kind of qualifier for why she spoke so harshly, a concession that she made a mistake. But she's... out of practice. Admissions of guilt are for trials and torture. She didn't even do it then, if she could help it.
"...I don't like being pressed," is all she manages, furrowing her brow and looking away. It seems so obvious to her: she didn't yell at him because he's Anders, she yelled at him because he had her in his power and wouldn't take no for an answer.
Ridiculous.

He's quiet for a few moments, offering a fingertip covered in mashed potatoes to Purrelden, who is more than happy to lick it clean and gnaw as well. Constantly he reads into things, he knows he does, and he doesn't know what he should be reading here and what he shouldn't. A part of him wants to cross his arms and just be obstinate. The other part knows he'll regret it. Arguing and being stubborn for the sake of those things doesn't pay off beyond momentary, fleeting satisfaction.

Anders sighs and looks down, just at his cat now.

"I want to help you the best way I'm able. Often, the only way I'm able. I'll not press on the why again, but when you're hurt, I'll press with offering to heal. This is what I can offer. This is what I am."

Of course, Teren would stubbornly argue that these things can pay off for a lifetime, but only if one is all right with not having a lot of friends.
All the same, he makes his point. Teren heaves a long sigh, staring at him crossly as she does so, and doesn't speak again until she's collected her thoughts.
"I suppose I shouldn't expect less than that," she grudgingly admits. It's not entirely a concession, but she is at least acknowledging that he's being hard-headed in a way she doesn't mind as much as before. Unsmiling, she adds, "I could just kill you sometimes, if you didn't remind me of my idiot self at your age."
She pauses, resting her chin on her palm. "...maybe I should kill you."

He looks up as her sigh finishes, watching her a bit warily before relaxing minutely as she talks. The last comment gets a shake of his head.

"If you were going to, you should have months ago, when it wouldn't have hurt many. Now it would hurt Nate and I couldn't forgive you for that." She's not going to kill him, though the thought is a little disquieting. "Besides. You seem to like to travel your own path, and I've already been betrayed by Warden leadership once. Doing it again would be copying them."

The latter might not be entirely true, she might not mind copying someone. But it seems lighter than anything else they're touching on. And not as light as the peas he offers Purrelden next.

"Ugh," she intones with a roll of her eyes. Anders and Nate, the lovebirds. Is there anything so vile as people in love?
"Warden leadership," she mumbles after, "such as it is. Or was. I don't even know which one to use anymore." They killed a whooole bunch of them, after all.
Stretching her arms out in front of her, Teren cracks her knuckles and gets to her feet. "I'm off back to camp. If you're done moving your food around, feel free to join me."

He looks back at his food, frowning, before shrugging and picking up his plate.

"I'll bring it with. If I don't eat, Nate will be upset." The 'ugh' was at his mention of Nate, he knows it, and sometimes it's a little fun to disgust people with sap. He's never had this before. Purrelden gets picked up with his other hand, and then he's getting up and ready to follow.

"Warden leadership is constantly in flux. It's not that long ago that almost all of Fereldan's Wardens were wiped out. Clarel is... complicated, but it will be figured out. Until then, we've you, Alistair, and Nate."

"Don't bloody remind me," Teren mutters, bracing herself for the autumn chill as she pushes the door open and steps out onto the stairway leading down from the keep. "I don't know what I did to deserve being a higher-up, aside from just getting old." She seems spry enough, though she still has a careful gait as she favors the wounds she wouldn't allow Anders to heal with magic.
"Your Nate wields a sigh as well as any dowager. I'd commend him for it if they weren't always at me."

"You miss all the times it's directed at me." He hefts his plate. "Why do you think I'm keeping this even though I don't particularly feel like eating right now? His sigh is one of his keenest-honed weapons."

And yet it's said with amusement. He loves Nate. He doesn't love the way Teren's not walking right, and he offers her an elbow with only a little judgement in his expression.

"Age is supposed to tie into wisdom and all that, though I think often it's just knowing how to not get yourself killed in a ridiculous situation."

The look Teren shoots him is slow and languid and very clear about how little she is about to put up with any bullshit if Anders should persist down this subject line. She can take any judgment and repel it back to its host, but she decides to spare him for the moment. No sense in chasing him away again.
"Wisdom?" she asks, "or age? Wisdom is staying out of ridiculous situations altogether. Age is being a ridiculous situation. Achey joints and all."

When his elbow isn't taken he sighs, a little disappointed by her stubbornness, but it's not a surprise and he doesn't want to pick a fight. Instead he simply lowers his arm and continues the walk and talk.

"So what you're saying is I've no hope at wisdom and am bound to spend the whole of my life in ridiculous situations at this point." A sparkle enters his eye. "Including with Nate."

The more she and Alistair make noises of disgust, the more he's going to be sappy.

"....yes," Teren decides, with a bit of hesitation. Was that a trick question? Normally she catches them easily, but perhaps her burns have taken a toll on her brain.
"If I don't kill you both in a fit of passion, then yes." She pauses to steady herself for a moment, taking a deep breath but otherwise not requesting or showing any indication of needing assistance. "And by that I mean a fit of your passion. You're a mage, don't you know any soundproofing spells?"

He smiles now, a little amused even though he's now going to keep the elbow at the ready.

"In the Circle, sex and love were forbidden. We had to be silent. Here, I'm free. I don't have to hide what I have and what I treasure, even if sometimes I..." He's getting carried away. Anders trails off, smile fading a little. He doesn't want to talk about how he fears, or how he's lost.

"What I feel I express. Sometimes. And more often I muffle it for the sake of people who may be nearby. But I can't stop wanting those sometimes."

Teren spares him the scoff of disgust, but she does roll her eyes a bit. It's half a defense mechanism, since in theory she isn't actually disgusted by holding onto things and people that matter, but... perhaps one can be a bit envious. Especially when, even if he's not a 'boy', the person who's managed to do so is significantly younger than oneself.

"Lucky you, then," she says, with a tone that doesn't quite convey the indifference she intended.

There's... something there that he isn't quite sure he can put his finger on. Anders glances over at Teren, but as usual her face doesn't tell him much.

"I... Thank you?" He hopes she'll clarify, though he's not going to put money on it. Teren makes being vague an art form.

She doesn't, naturally. She affords a brief, cautious glance back to Anders, then chooses to ignore his response. Everything's fine, and there's nothing beyond that he or anyone else needs to know.

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[Open] You'll think "how did I get here, sitting next to you?"

Mess Hall, after THE THING

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