faderift | [Open] No boom today. Boom tomorrow.

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[Open] No boom today. Boom tomorrow.

WHO: Anders and anyone! Or, well, almost anyone. Sorry, Fenris and Cullen...
WHAT: Anders arrives at Skyhold, takes a new fake name, and tries to get a measure of the Inquisition while keeping a low profile. Starting in prose, but will switch to brackets to match if that's preferred!
WHEN: Mid-haring
WHERE: All over Skyhold, choose your location?
NOTES: Warning for Anders? I can't think of any real ones atm, I'll update if that changes.

He's tired, but that's nothing new. The road's been long. It shows in the way he leans a little on his staff, a fairly generic-looking thing that's far from his old appreciation of things flashy, just as it shows in the state of his rather ragged-looking robes and the scruff of a beard that he doesn't exactly like. At least he's not dead on his feet - the company of a few refugees more than willing to bear the brunt of conversation on the way up had made the last couple of days more bearable than usual.

Now he's here, and the strain is back on his shoulders. Skyhold holds more than the usual level of danger but there's no getting around the fact that he has to at least visit this place. The Inquisition is likely to be a player in the future of mages, and Anders will not see the little bit of progress made be undone out of fear, or laziness, or naivete, or any other number of things that could cut down freedom for his people.

But that doesn't mean he knows how to go about working toward that, just yet. And that means he's slowly going around the fortress, gathering information by listening and asking simple, short questions. They have to be short. The second-to-last thing he can afford is to slip up and let Justice get too accusatory, which could lead to the last thing he can afford - to be recognized by someone who would turn him over to the 'authorities,' such as they are.

"Have you been with the inquisition long?" is one of the most frequent questions, along with a follow up if the answer is yes: "Do you think they treat mages well here?" It's not like he's hiding the staff, after all. But there are more simple questions mixed in as well, questions about the need for herbalists or healers, about where one might find a warm enough corner to sleep in, or where one can lose what few coppers they have over a game of cards. They're general. Careful. They have to be. He's no longer ready to die.

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"Mages get treated better here than anywhere else I've ever seen." That's a lie - Kitty knows very intimately well just how mages get treated up in Tevinter, after all - but it's not a big one. All her other travels, through all those other lands, have shown just how wretchedly they're treated elsewhere. And she wishes she had any idea which way of doing things was worse. Some days, she thinks it'd be easier just to burn everything, all governments everywhere, to the ground and see what would happen if they all started from scratch.

She's a small girl even by dwarf standards, so she has to step up on a few boxes stacked behind the bar to deposit the bowl of stew in front of the scruffy-looking mage. Her eyes study him closely, with interest. They get a lot of miserable-looking people here in the tavern, but he's amongst the most miserable-looking of all. It kindles a little bit of compassion in her; she turns and pours a tankard of ale for him, unbidden.

"They have a voice. Representation. And they get listened to. It's not like that sort of thing they'll do sometimes, where they'll pretend to hear you and then just go and do their own thing. The leadership really pays them heed." As she turns back to him, and climbs up on her boxes again to give him his ale, Kitty asks, "Are you going to be staying on?"

He's quiet for a moment. It's not just the question, or the thought of actual representation. It's also the stew and the drink. How long has it been since he simply sat down and ate something that was cooked by someone else, rather than something he'd just caught or found and hastily prepared? His stomach grumbles and he gives the dwarf a sheepish, very faint smile before reaching into his belt pouch and pulling out what few coppers he has.

"I've not decided, as of yet. Freedom is something very important to me and settling... I need to be sure. I can't go back to--" He cuts himself off with a shrug. Keeping a low profile has always been difficult. It's part of the reason he'd been caught time and time again. In lieu of finishing his sentence, he holds up what he's got and nods at them before even touching food or drink. He doesn't need to be calling authorities down on his head for not being able to pay, especially not when he knows one of the authorities by face and name, and they know him in return.

"How much would I owe you? If I can't afford the both, I'd prefer the stew. ...Though I'm not unfamiliar with washing-up chores." Granted, it had been many years since he'd been set to all sorts of tasks for mouthing off to Templars, but you never really forgot how to scrape plates or mop floors.

Washing-up? The human certainly looks like he'd clean up all right, if it came down to it, but just at the moment he looks as though he'd make the dishes dirtier if he touched them. Though admittedly, he also looks like standing beside the kettle they use to heat the washing-water would do him quite a bit of good. Poor, skinny, frozen thing, isn't he...But no; there's no question that he needs a meal followed by rest far more than he needs a meal followed by labor in the kitchens.

"We're having a special just at the moment. Free ale to go with every bowl of stew." Her smile is polished and cheerful, and her manner impenetrable; it might be a joke, or it might be the truth. Regardless, the coppers are clearly enough to satisfy; she makes no move to pull either food or drink away from him.

"You'll find quite a few like-minded mages here. Lots of Dalish. And they are prickly about the prospect of being regulated." And then, very casually, she asks, "Where are you coming from?"

He doesn't have the energy or even the desire to figure out if she's taking pity on him or being honest. Food and drink are being offered for what he can afford and he'll take it. Her smile gets a nod in return, about all he can muster, before he pulls the bowl close and takes his first bite, savoring it as she keeps talking. It's perfect. Warm, thick, rich, and he savors it before shrugging at the question.

"An easier question is where am I not coming from." Anders meets her gaze. She likely wants to know if he's an apostate, and considering that doesn't seem like a death sentence here, he'll grant her wish. "I've been on the run from the Circle for so long that I feel like I'm from nearly everywhere on this side of the ocean that's not Tevinter. And I wish I'd been to Tevinter."

He dips his spoon again, filling it with the broth. "And you? Surface Dwarf?"

She turns her smile down at the counter in front of her the moment he mentions Tevinter. She's gotten good at managing her body language, and her voice obeys her, but her face always betrays her emotions; she can't count that her smile won't harden, that her anger won't show. So she makes as though she's scrubbing at some spot on the counter, and stares down hard at it, and conceals her expression.

You'd have been as wretched in Tevinter as elsewhere, apostate. It just would have been a different sort of wretchedness. It's little better being part of wickedness than it is being victim to it.

"Surface dwarf," she lies cheerfully, still scrubbing at that invisible spot. "Born out in Ferelden. I've been traveling a while, but - you know. War. In times like these, it's better to find good, strong walls to huddle behind than it is to be a small girl with a small pony and a small cart in a very murder-y sort of landscape."

Then she looks up. Her face is composed - she looks curious, and nothing more.

"I know that this is sort of a personal question, but - I'm nosy. Can I ask what drove you from the Circle?" Since it sounds from his phrasing that he'd once been part of one - the Circle chases its own, after all.

She looks away at the mention of Tevinter, and doesn't look up as she speaks. There's a history there... and he shouldn't have asked, really. Especially not when she talks about being a small girl, alone, in the war-torn world he'd had a hand in causing.

By the time she's looked up, Anders is looking down into his ale. She deserves that answer, really. He'd pried when he shouldn't have, especially as he's hiding most of his own story. After a sigh and a sip of what turns out to be actually palatable ale, for a change, he looks back up.

"I'm particular. Demanding. I feel that if someone is to be locked up in a place and kicked and hit and live under constant fear of worse, then they should have done something to earn that. Something other than being born. It's an unpopular opinion, I've discovered, one not shared by many, oddly enough, and I found myself at a need for a change of venue."

Anders gives her a smile that doesn't reach his eyes - his own poker face leaves a great deal to be desired too.

"Perhaps we should talk on slightly more cheerful topics. Decay, for instance. Downright merry, compared to what's going on out there and my past, at least. Or, maybe, we can risk something dangerously pleasant like the ale, or the tavern itself."

Her eyes settle on his face as he speaks. And her dark eyebrows draw together, giving a troubled cast to her face. The thing is - she's talked with plenty of mages so far, heard their calls for power and respect. And it's not like she'd shrugged them off, certainly, but the discussions really have all been in abstract terms - talk of Harrowings (whatever that is) and Templar guards (so what) and demands for respect. It doesn't really leave much of an impression, beyond a general understanding that mages are disrespected. Hearing the man's narrative - that horror, that abuse, that's...visceral. It hits her harder than any talk of mage rights so far. It hits her harder than she could have anticipated.

So she watches him intensely, and looks unhappy. And she just ignores his request to talk about something happier. Instead, her voice a little quiet, she says, "Is that really what it was like for you?"

He hadn't expected the question and the surprise shows on his face for a moment before he's shrugging. Most people would gladly skip to a happier topic and ignore the thought of anything actually happening to mages. Ignorance was their bliss and mage suffering, after all. It's why he'd had to take such drastic action - everyone would rather not care.

"It was. And I was one of the lucky ones. I'll grant there were Circles better than mine, but there were Circles that were worse, too." There's a beat as he plays with his spoon, glancing down at it before back up to her. "I'm not used to someone who isn't a mage giving a care, so I don't know if you want to hear more or leave it at that."

It used to be that he'd preach at the drop of a hat, or even without that, but he's both tired and trying to keep a lower profile for now. Breaking into a rant about how he'd seen so many mistreated would draw notice and increase the risk of Justice showing up. Moderation is the only way he'll stay alive, though it's difficult.

She ought to try to seem incurious, she knows. She ought to try to seem disinterested. After all, a surfacer like she's pretending to be ought to already know about the plight of the mages, oughtn't she? And most of her people just don't care. There's never been a mage amongst the dwarva; their suffering is remote and disconnected, and the dwarves face travails of their own, so why would they concern themselves?

But Kitty can't help it. It just sounds so...wrong, all of it. And she's already seemed concerned. So she answers - her voice a little uncertain, but her words unwavering - "I want to hear more." She meets his eyes, her face worried and unhappy. "The other mages here - they talk about outrages, but they never really talk about what they are. And I've never understood this war."

He wishes more people responded like she's doing. Some had - Lirene, for instance, had certainly hastened to help him and his underground once she understood more of what was going on. Most closed their eyes, and he has to wonder if it's because of people talking in vague terms.

Anders takes a breath as he tries to figure out where to begin while also keeping Justice calm and collected. She wants to know, to amend her ignorance. This is good, and they need to not get worked up too much in the recitation of injustice.

"Outrages is a mild word." He's trying to stay calm, but there's still some emotion in his voice - anger and stress mixed in with the tiredness. "Mages are murdered for the slightest suspicion of blood magic, without evidence. Mages are made Tranquil for being too rebellious, or being believed to have a weak will, or simply being too afraid to want to be thrown into a terrifying ordeal. We're expendable. Disposable. From the moment we manifest abilities, we're treated as things and everyone sees this as right and just."

There's frustration building in his voice as he keeps talking, and he stops to take another breath before continuing. Moderation. Calm. Surviving and making a difference. That's what he has to remember.

"That's why the war is being fought. For too long the Chantry and Templars have acted like we're threats and nothing more. Dangers. They profit off our labor and restrict us to a single structure for most of our lives, beat us on a whim and worse. Certainly some mages have never seen that sort of treatment, but that doesn't justify ignoring it and thinking that the Circles are still practical or acceptable simply because they weren't abused."

May the Void take every single last Loyalist.

She looks down at her hands as he speaks, her lips tightening, her face grim. That's worse than she knew by far. And it's...unconscionable. There's no question of that. What happens in Tevinter is little better; slavery and oppression are the norm there. Giving mages unlimited power is not all right. But maybe the issue is, ultimately, that it's not all right to give anyone unlimited power, regardless of their abilities. Perhaps the whole damn thing is rotten and there's just nothing to be done, no way to make it all less wretched, without burning the whole system to the ground.

Kitty looks up after a moment. Her voice is quiet. "I wish it weren't like this," she says. "I wish that your people didn't have to go through this. I wish that all of it hadn't gotten so many uninvolved people killed. I wish the violence would just stop, that people would treat each other decently..." But she could go on for an hour or more just listing off all her wishes. So instead, she runs her hand through her hair and shakes her head.

"Do you wish you'd not been born a mage?"

"No."

His answer is certain. He understands the cause of the question, appreciates it, even, but he can't think about life as someone without magic, can't get distracted by things that are not and will not be.

"I'd still likely be on a farm, ignorant, reinforcing a harmful system by staying uninvolved, if I was not a mage. Like this, despite all I've been through, I can make a difference. I can help. I am a healer, and I'm proud to be healer and mage alike."

There's no true level of uninvolvement. You ignore what's going on and give to the Chantry, shrink back from magic, etc., or you act. Ignorance is only bliss for those who choose to live in it, and that's too many. Now? Now there's no way to claim accidental ignorance. What is wrong has been pushed out into the open and people must face the casual cruelties of the current system.

"I wish that things were better. At least now maybe they can become better." The stew is disappearing quickly, but thankfully it's been good and he's feeling warmer. "Our world has issues, but I'm here for the hope that the Inquisition can at least set the issue of our freedom to rights. May I ask what brought you to it?"

Shit. Well, she can't well lie to him now, can she? That answer, more than the story of his oppression, gets to her and twists hard and painfully. Because it's exactly right. Standing by idly is reprehensible. Not fighting for equal rights and decent treatment is reprehensible. Staying apart from all of it and deciding it's someone else's problem is reprehensible. When there's injustice in the world, those who do nothing abet it. And those who are willing to suffer a lifetime of misery to fight it, who don't regret that lifetime of misery -

Shit, indeed.

She offers him a very small, helpless smile. "I can tell you, but...It's not something I want repeated far and wide. I assume you can keep a secret."

Anders meets her eyes, waits patiently for her to decide. It isn't like he's telling the whole of his story. When she reaches a decision, though, it's very easy to nod.

"I've been an apostate for a few years, now. I fully understand having secrets you want kept, and I'm discreet." With other people's secrets he's discreet, that is. He's not exactly hidden well, which is part of the reason why he's been dragged back to the Circle so many times.

But would he want to be discreet? She's still not completely certain that this is the right choice. He's affirmed that he can keep a secret, but he'd have no reason, necessarily, to want to. It's imprudent to tell him this, and there's no real gain to be had from it - nothing except the satisfaction of her own honesty, and the the relief of sharing a little bit of what weighs so heavily on her.

Is that worth it?

I think that's worth it.

So she starts with the same half-truth she's told everyone. "I'm here for safety. It's dangerous out there for someone like me." And then, more truthfully, "And I think that the Inquisition has the power to shape the world, once all this is through. I've...seen a great deal of injustice in the world. I grew up surrounded by it. I want to be here to make sure that they don't repeat the old mistakes. And I want to see if I can help them to smash the old structures that support injustice."

It's dangerous for nearly everyone, and he can understand that motivation. What he understands all the more is the drive to fight injustice. What he doesn't follow is how this requires discretion.

"Justice is highly important to me as well. Much of it is due to my life, but there are plenty I've known who have lived among great injustice. They should not." Maybe, a lifetime ago, he would make a joke about Justice being very close to his heart. It's not really funny anymore, though.

"But I'm... not certain why that requires discretion. Many people aren't safe out there."

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[Open] No boom today. Boom tomorrow.

Your username is so amazing

I have a weakness for bad puns.

I have a weakness for those who have a weakness for bad puns.

\o/

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