faderift | [Closed] This isn't even my final form

Much of the discussion seems to have reached a point of, if not being fully settled, some sort of rough consensus. Which means he's returning to the healing tents with another Warden alongside him, the friendliest guard he's ever had. It's an odd feeling. Not just being under guard by someone who trusts him for a change, he's also returning to work in a place he hadn't expected to see again.

Anders is fairly quiet as he works, glancing around sometimes just to see Bethany still there. He'll get used to this. She's not wanting him to slip up so she can kill him, which makes her a complete improvement over every single other watcher he's ever had.

"So during the conversation I gathered a few... hints. That you might be looking into the other side of my situation?" He's likely lost the assistance of Adelaide when it comes to finding if there's a way to heal Justice. If Bethany is looking, there might still be hope.

Leliana would be at a loss, if she were not so angry. That this has happened, that such a man as this was able to infiltrate their numbers. All the worse, that it might have been impossible, if not for the presence of his friends. Varric, Isabela, Bethany, all three of them people she would have considered kindred spirits, of a sort, in years past. They might not have been close friends, they may never even have had that chance, but Leliana would certainly not have expected to find their knife slipping between her ribs.

It began with the cat. It kept bothering her, a detail that caught her attention until her mind would not rest, and all slowly unravelled from there. Blond spirit healer, with a curious link to the Hero of Ferelden, and a fondness for cats. She casts the final shred of confirmation down, the last piece delivered by a scout and cutting through the flimsy (pathetically flimsy) identity that was Detlef. Her chair scrapes back, and Leliana is moving in long, quick strides. Something in her is ablaze, a painful scorching his heat started in her gut and fans up through her chest, embers seeming set to burn through her very ribs and her skin, forcing her to told herself together.

She is fast, she is used to being akin to a shadow - in place, invisible for all her belonging. It is the Nightingale that stalks towards the tent, now, and not Leliana. There is one lingering moment, where she hangs at the entrance to the medical tent.

One inhale, one exhale, and a knife is in her hand.

Another breath - and she is moving, hand at Anders' throat, fingers curling holding him there as the cold edge of her knife caresses his throat.

"I know who you are," Leliana breathes, a quiet snarl. "I know you."

Edited 2016-02-29 10:44 (UTC)

He knows there's someone outside the tent once they're there, but it doesn't worry him. It's a healer's tent. People linger sometimes if they've caught something embarrassing, or feel like they might not need help, or any other variety of reason.

But none of that group move quite that fast when they come in.

Even that isn't enough warning to get him away, though, and there's the sharp edge of a knife pressed against what may be the only actual vulnerable part of his body, if Rolan's failure is anything to go by. Anders takes a slow breath, and hears the words he'd known would be coming sooner or later. And of course it's her.

"I'm not surprised." He can feel Justice straining, wanting to take control, to remove this obstacle, and works to stay calm. "It was only a matter of time. The question is what comes now, and that's already something under discussion."

Maker. If he'd been any slower in talking to the Wardens... but he hadn't. He still has a chance.

Bethany had happily talked to Anders when he had felt in the mood, then fell into a quiet, polite silence while he took care of his patients. Out of her bag came knitting needles and yarn, and she began to knit quietly. She was so engrossed with her work that she was able to answer Anders without looking away.

"I think there is a way to help you both. I just haven't found it yet." Was her slightly distracted response - and it was that distraction that had Leliana in the tent and with the blade to Anders's throat before she had even managed to look up.

She stilled, at the situation, but if years in Kirkwall and in the Wardens had taught her anything, sometimes bravado was all you really needed to diffuse a nasty situation.

So she started her next row, her voice lifting in volume but not in pitch. "If you really knew him, Nightingale, you wouldn't have the blade to his throat." She looked up then, brown eyes calm, but serious, "You are running the risk of bringing Justice to the fore to deal with this situation. Anders doesn't want to hurt you."

Edited 2016-03-01 10:39 (UTC)

I'm not surprised. No. She can well imagine he is not. The only sickening surprise in this is that it took so long, that it took Zevran's kidnapping and a rift opening in their very midst for her to stumble across the particular truth. She has been too lax, too trusting. She has assumed too much that the people within their walls have good intentions.

"Under discussion with who?" Her voice is a quiet, would be inaudible outside the tent, but cuts clear enough for her present company. It is dangerous, this. Who could he be speaking to? What leverage does he have, what aid? What plans might be in danger of playing out, even now?

And perhaps Bethany means it as friendly advice. Perhaps she means it to be condescending, as if she might put the Chantry sister she remembers from Lothering back in her place, and her mouth curls in a sneer. "You. You concealed a man responsible for dozens of deaths directly, and innumerable more in the violence that explosion sparked. You protected his identity within the Inquisition, while begging our aid for the sake of the Grey Wardens." Frosty, gaze still locked on Anders, knife still grazing his throat though she has drawn it back just a fraction, just enough to make it easier for him to speak, even as she studies him intensely. "I am not certain there is anything you say that I will deem worthy of my trust, nor my consideration, Warden Hawke."

"Yes. It would have been tidier if they'd all been mage deaths and filed under the official header of the Rite of Annulment, wouldn't it." He can't help the bitterness in his voice. "No one cares if it's just hundreds of mages dying. It's sanctioned by the Chantry, which means of course you'd be for that."

She had served the Divine directly, after all.

"But let's talk Grey Wardens. Because when you said there's only one here who worked alongside the Hero of Ferelden, you were wrong. There are three. I'm one of them, and I turned myself into the Wardens the other day. That's who is discussing it. That's who is preparing to approach the Inquisition and speak with the Advisors."

He should be calmer. He should be more civil. But there's a knife to his throat and he's sick and exhausted of everyone not giving a damn about the fact that Meredith had been escalating. It's not right. It's not just. And he needs to focus on the fact that Bethany is nearby because if something happens, especially if he's stabbed, Justice needs to not create another smoking crater.

"Lower the knife, and let's talk. Bethany's correct when she says I don't want to hurt you. But a few Templars have kindly illustrated how much I don't like having sharp objects shoved inside me."

Maker's Breath, this could turn into bloodshed in a heartbeat if Bethany wasn't careful. Of course, what she lacked in the skill to lie - she made up for in calmness in the heat of the moment. She had meant no harm - no offense to Leliana. Her tone was for Justice, and Justice alone. The second he realized that a mage was upset? That a mage felt threatened? He would come to the fore and possibly slaughter them all.

She rose to her feet, speaking quietly and still calmly. "I protected the man who saved my life. Who saved the life of my sister and my brother, more times than I can count. Who was there for my sister when Carver and I couldn't be, after the murder of our mother. I protected my friend."

She leveled her gaze on Anders, "And my friend would never hurt someone who has spent their lives protecting the innocent and the lost, who has been a staunch support of mage rights - as Divine Justinia was, and Sister Leliana is. My friend would remember that the Nightingale is looking to protect everyone in Skyhold, and that she has reason to be angry."

Then her brown eyes rested on Leliana, "I know the Nightingale will always listen, because a swift blade can cut off a valuable resource. A resource the Wardens can use to stop a terrible tragedy, and a possible plot of Corypheus's."

She had to have faith in both of them. It was the only way to get them out of this terrible situation. She had to believe they were the good people she knew them to be.

Edited 2016-03-02 00:18 (UTC)

“Never presume to know my mind,” she whispers, very quiet, and very angry, though it manifests only in coldness, in an ice crawling across they air that she would crush him with in but a moment if she were the mage. That is just one thing among the many matters of Anders that vex her, that he believes he knows the minds of all mages, of all who are not mages. He is bloodthirsty. Leliana kills when she must, when necessity demands it, but she never believes it right nor just. She is not so deluded as that.

“One Grey Warden of my acquaintance,” she corrects, almost so soft as to be unheard. “I was speaking of my connection to the Hero of Ferelden. Do not think me so ignorant.” If she were not so angry she would simply let him sit in his self-righteous stupor, but he must understand, at least this once. “I know about Nathaniel Howe, and your connection.” She knows that he is another who hid the truth of a mass murderer within their halls, their ranks. In fact, if there were some foul play afoot with Anders’ hand in it, she would not hesitate to suspect Nathaniel Howe of being involved as well, though whether it were willing or simply ignorance that lead him thus would be another matter.
But that the Grey Wardens have discussed it… that is another matter, and her gaze narrows. Alistair.

Alistair knew. Alistair knew that this sorry excuse for a human being was here, and he said nothing? It would be enough to make her blade finally taste blood, that, but Bethany speaks.

She could end this now. She could see his throat cut and his head cut clear from his body in a mess of bone and sinew and blood. It would be so quick and so fast, and she could avenge the woman she had gone to Kirkwall to try and protect.

It is fortunate for Anders that it is Bethany who takes up talking next, rather than his aggravating whine of a tone. Even in his indignant anger he sounds more akin to a petulant child. She is right - the Wardens are a potential asset, though their value remains potential only, and thus so too does Anders’ supposed worth. (It thuds in her chest, the knowledge, of such a concealment from a friend, and she does not let it show.)

Who killed innocents, she could add to Bethany's commentary, but resists. Instead nose creases, almost a snarl, but she twitches out of the expression and eases back, knife lowered. Still in hand, still dangerous, but Leliana could be dangerous with her hands tied in the dark.

“All the talking will take place before the Advisors of this Inquisition and Grey Warden representatives,” Leliana starts, with a frost leaving her tone hard, impenetrable. “Your staff will be confiscated, you will attend in chains. And I will receive a list of all those who knew your true identity since you came hence."
A look to Bethany, finally, a favour for the younger Hawke who had once so loved Sister Leliana’s stories. The question is silent, and still tight with anger, and not especially flexible: Satisfactory terms, Warden?

Chains. Chains, again, after so many times of wearing them, after the price that the City of Chains had enacted upon him, and if not for Bethany's proximity he would have let his fear open the door for Justice. As it is, his eyes aren't the normal golden, and his voice has gone markedly deeper as he takes a step back.

"You claim no ignorance, but do not already know the names of everyone upon that list? They are obvious. You hold a blade to my throat for dozens of direct deaths, but do not hold one to your own? Your hands bear as much blood as these. You would chain us as everyone has before because they and you are all shackled by fear. And they welcome it.

"Your demands are those of someone giving into emotion and feelings of being personally wronged. Do not think we are in ignorance of why you went to Kirkwall. It is a shame the Nightingale sought to protect one who was allowing the suffering of the lost and innocent to increase."

He gestures at his staff, sitting in the corner of the Clinic nearest Leliana. "If you wish the staff, take it. Hold on to a physical representation of how weak the Chantry and Templars have wished the mages would be for so long. But know that there is nothing you can do to hurt me more than has already been done. You are powerless to break me."

It's not true. There's definitely something she could do... but it's something she won't. Those who have sought to help him and who have been his friends won't be killed for this. He won't lose anyone. They may be hurt. They may land in a cell next to him, as Bethany had suggested before, but they're not dying.

Internally, Bethany is screaming, because the moment that blade is put away is when Anders slash Justice decides to open their mouth? Yes, don't think she hadn't caught that 'us' in there, Justice. She had. At this, she stepped forward and her tone kept calm -- but there was a firmness there. A commanding tilt from one mage Warden to the next.

"The crimes that Anders and Justice have committed are known to the Wardens, including the murder of Divine Cleric Elethina. We mourn her loss, and hold Anders and Justice personally responsible for cleansing the stain of the death of innocents off of his name, so he might become a Grey Warden again in name ... and in deed. In conference with the other advisers, you shall have the names of all the Wardens who know, from our representatives. Any others would come forth themselves, if asked."

There is a pause, then a quieter statement, "If Anders agrees not to run, might we post a Warden guard with him, instead of the Templars and chains? Anders, and Justice, would that be an acceptable substitute for security?"

She is trying to limit the possibility of Justice appearing right now. She wants to protect Leliana as much as she possibly can, and that might be obvious in the way that she is moving just slightly to take the blunt of any blow Justice might throw at Leliana first. Anders, she knew, would never hurt her.

'Come when it aches' Anders had said- as if there was anything more any healer could do for it. But he's been working in the ring to improve his skills and he aches all over- which makes ignoring the ache in his eye all the more difficult- to the healing tents he goes. To Anders' tent, specifically. None of the other healers had seen the eye just yet and he wasn't about to subject them to it. Sweaty from the last bout that left him with bruised ribs and a ringing skull, he wove about to Anders' tent, pulling back the flap to stare at...

Leliana.

And Bethany.

And Anders with glowing blue eyes which never ends well. Brasca. "...have I come at a bad time?"

He's come at a bad time. He should, by all rights, turn around and walk away. Leave this to whatever it might be but he's tired, his eye aches, he's itching from the sweat drying between his skin and his shirt, and he's fairly certain Leliana is glowering at the pair on account of the truth coming to light. Had he any manner of self preservation he'd walk away- but it's been shaky as of late and he does wish his head seen to. And. He likely ought to say something to Leliana.

Justice stares at Bethany, weighing her movements, assessing what he sees before him and her statements. Before he can come to any sort of verdict, they're interrupted and his attention goes sharply toward the intruder. Another friend of Anders. The Elf that likes to be distracting. Before he can be dismissive, Anders catches the tiredness, the shape Zevran is when he's always careful with his appearance, and realizes why he's here. It's enough to push him back to the front, back into control.

"No," Anders says as his eyes return to normal. Wanting to right wrongs, to fix things, is one of the things he and Justice still have in common. Anders gestures to the closest seat. "I mean, yes, for you, likely, but come in anyway. Have a seat."

Just barely he refrains from making a comment about it being a good thing he can heal without a staff. He doesn't need to snark. More. And it's always easier to refrain from the crueler, colder snarking when Justice has relented for a time, as he tends to do after having control.

There is little that Anders has to say that particularly interests her. Her request of a list? Such a thing would have been convenient, but there are many known to her already, and the rest will not be difficult to weasel out, not with what her scouts and her people through Skyhold already know. Such an offer is a test, to see if a person would cooperate, and Anders failed it so utterly. He refused to cooperate, and Justice pushed to the fore, and neither of those seemed particularly indicative of change, of any reason why he was not a risk to the people of Skyhold and why his life should be spared. None of his words merit her response, her dignifying them. He does not deserve that much of her respect or her time. ("Powerless to break him," oh. Such a sweet thought. He thinks far better of her than is fair, evidently.)

Instead, she answers Bethany. Though it does not undo the lie or the risk, that Bethany so quickly stepped between Leliana and an abomination with no regard for her does not go unnoticed. "If your Wardens can guarantee that he would indeed be secure," she confirms. "That they would not simply allow him to slip away, by some chance."

And then Zevran arrives; her brow furrows first, concerned, as if to speak a warning, but he stands and he takes in the scene, and it seems out of place for even Zevran to jest so lightly at the sight of an abomination before one of his old friends. The concern and the urge to warning shifts into something more analytical and careful, watching Zevran for a moment.

"I would suggest another healer, Zevran. Anders and I are about to meet with the Wardens, and then the Advisers."
(Anders not Detlef, and she watches for his reaction.) What will the reaction be? The thoughts? What will he make of having to see another healer, and she does not doubt one can be intercepted easily enough.

There are times when Bethany wanted to take Carver by both shoulders and shake him like a rag doll for his angry ignorance of how much danger he was putting himself in. Right now? She wanted to do the same to Anders.

She opens her mouth to answer, just as Zevran walks in. The relief on her face is fleeting, before she looks from Anders, to Leliana, then back to Zevran himself. No, he was the one who made Justice disappear, and Bethany wasn't confident enough in Justice's temper right now. So she held up a hand placatingly. "A ... moment, if you will, Nightingale? Zevran clearly needs medical attention, and it will give you a better idea of the benefits of having Anders here. He is one of the best healers we have in Skyhold."

She pulled her staff from her back, letting it rest in her palm securely, "You and I can keep watch, as we agreed, then take him to the meeting chamber. Zevran, if you would be so kind as to find Hercules and let him know what has occurred after this? I'd be most grateful."

A warm smile, a generous one, considering how frazzled she feels beneath all this. Besides, she's only heard of Zevran's injury, not seen it, and it occurs to add, "And since Anders is the healer who saw to Zevran's injury, it would behoove us to watch his practices, so I can continue in Anders stead while he awaits your judgement, Nightingale."

Anders invites him in and Bethany already knows, Bethany had been there when the business happened and while Zevran may or may not taken part in the battle afterward he certainly cannot speak to what Leliana will make of his knowing as well other than 'probably never going to be spoken to' ever again at the very least. There is a moment where he considers his loyalties, such as they are-

And he abandons it entirely at another throb behind his eye. He is too tired to play at having any manner of game at the moment. He goes, he sits, and he blinks at the woman he thinks of as a sister.

"I would rather not subject yet another healer to this mess." His hand flicks to the patch and scars both that he is now doubly reluctant to remove, but Anders has never needed him to take it off after the initial healing. Preserving his vanity. It is a kindness he cannot quite manage to express his gratitude for. "It will not take long, Leliana."

Alright, so perhaps he has enough game to put the weight on her name rather than her title. "Which one of the wardens is Hercules? The tall grizzled one or the other tall grizzled one? After awhile you all tend to blur together. Even you, Bethany, are faintly grizzled. There is grizzling to be had."

If he's going to be ignored, he'll ignore the woman right back. Clearly she doesn't actually give a damn for anything that will challenge her already-set view of matters. She's a waste of his time. Anders deliberately steps between Zevran and the two women to block their view of Zevran just in case as he gets to work. His practice she can feel. His patient at least deserves some privacy.

"So how exactly do you explain Oghren if we're all tall and grizzled?" Weak jokes help. They made it feel like there was not yet another threat to his life looming ahead of him, like the very form of Chantry-loving hypocrite wasn't at his back. They were also meant to help Zevran relax some. "And I believe he's the other tall grizzled one, not to be confused with the grizzled tall one."

His hands are glowing green by now as he's gotten to work and found the sources of irritation and inflammation, seeking to ease the pain from the eye first. The newer injuries could come later.

This is not the time for your vanity, she almost replies, and holds her tongue only because they have been friends so long. He knows. He knew, because he was unsurprised when she said Anders, when he saw the burning glow of Justice in that eyes of that wretched sack of flesh that he's calling a home.

The look she gives Bethany is sharp, as well, but she stays quiet, tense, a wound coil ready to be released at a moment's notice. Her point at least, is valid, even if her careful words and honeyed tones only make this worse.

The joking, the laughter. It is all an insult, layer upon layer of it, a mockery of all that Anders has done, all the lives that were taken by his hand.

She is not sure whether she is more hurt or angry, but they are mixing together in a toxic mess, and at the first opportunity they will move to bring Anders face to face with his judgment.

Bethany breathed out, glad to see that Justice had retreated completely as Anders worked on Zevran's face. She knew that Leliana was not pleased - well, with any of them. Yet she knew in time that Leliana would forgive Zevran, if she was still the woman that Bethany remembered at all.

Her look was sympathetic to Leliana, but she was careful to keep an eye out for Justice than pay attention to the other woman. She did give Zevran a wry look, "I couldn't be considered even near grizzled."

"Oghren is the short grizzled one." The teasing is not for Leliana. it is not for Bethany. The strained twist of humor was for Anders, was for Justice- to ground them in the present and ease the weight that would make them monstrous.

Alright, perhaps for Bethany as well. The atmosphere was so very dire. "A little grizzled. Not near, of course, as grizzled as Oghren, or perhaps even Jonas after a week without shaving- but you are just a touch. You need oil for your hair, my dear warden."

He tilted his face into Anders hands, eyes closed, open and openly trusting. That...probably would not count for much in Leliana's eyes, but there was an ease between them.

He could not be more thankful for Zevran right now. Not just his appearance, but that he's joking around and relaxing when moments before Justice had been so visible. Zevran has faith in him. Somehow.

"You would oil everyone's hair if you could." The words are spoken to fill the silence, to help himself stay focused as he works on Zevran's wounds and breathes, ignoring how Leliana undoubtedly wants to dig a knife between his ribs. He is not safe, but all is not lost and he'd promised Zevran he would fight against despair.

"Perhaps if you saw to your own head as often as you did the de-grizzling of others..." It's the head wound that's aggravated the rest, effects cascading, but he can't exactly ask Zevran to ease up on what seems to be training if he's to guess by the injuries. Everyone wants to feel useful and active, unlimited. He would know.

"Bethany, would you mind contacting Herc through the crystal? Nate as well, maybe." Let Leliana make what she will of the names, but there's not much there. Herc leads, and Nate's closeness has not been a secret. "If we are going before the advisors shortly before planned, they should know and be in attendance. Herc at the least." Nate will have his back, but Herc is the one with authority.

Leliana could probably not get much tenser than she is in this moment and yet, with each passing moment she becomes more tightly pulled, a bow stretched as far as it might go before the arrow is unleashed with brutal force.

She will stand, and she will wait, and she will watch each of them closely. They are all of them traitors, all in different ways, but Bethany and Zevran matter least of all. That Zevran trusts Anders wins no favour for the mage, it only makes her suspicion towards her brother all the worse, more painful.

How had this all happened?

[Closed] This isn't even my final form

For LELIANA, BETHANY, and ZEVRAN

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