faderift | [Open] Save tonight, fight the break of dawn

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[Open] Save tonight, fight the break of dawn

WHO: Anders and OPEN
WHAT: The last open log with J!Anders before Justice is gone
WHEN: Mid-Justinian, from around the 8th to the 15th
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Anders, as usual. Prose or brackets work, I've just started everything in prose because that's less html I can screw up.

Healing Tents

Anders (and kitten) are constant sights in the healing tents in Skyhold from morning until evening. One of them works. One of them prefers to play, and is currently most fascinated by a slowly-unraveling string from a scrap of cloth that the larger of the two made sure was dangling down to draw attention.

"Watch the cat," is the warning someone coming in gets first, before being nodded toward the nearest table right away whether they've got a visible injury or not. That they're here for medical reasons is the safest assumption.

Library

He can be found here an early evening, paging through older books with a few pieces of parchment next to him where he's taking notes. Or hoping to. The top page is mostly blank, though, and Anders is frowning as he closes one book and pulls another off one of the few stacks he's made around himself.

People walking past don't even get glances, he's busy and he doesn't care if there are glares shot in his direction right now. People who stop get a glance up with a raised eyebrow and neutral-as-he-can-make-it expression.

Training Circle

It's early. Ridiculously early, early enough to be considered late the next day and that's why he's here now, working with his staff against a dummy. An opponent would be better, but few are here at this hour, and no one who was there when he arrived is someone he'd trust to work instead of actually attack. That being said, for once he's not seemingly radiating irritation and aggravation and he's even looking over as other people start to show up. He could use a hand and he knows it.

Hot Springs

He enters a little hastily, freezing after sweating in the cold and needing to get ready to head into the healing tents. There's not a lot of time to linger. ...but that thought fades away once he's fully in the water. It's so warm that he's sinking in to his chin almost right away, and really only leaving his face above water so he can keep an eye on Purrelden as the kitten chases a beetle.

Courtyard

Not since his Detlef days has he actually sat out here for a time. Dinner tonight is a simple affair, a few strips of meat washed down with a weak excuse for ale along with some a handful of fruit and nuts, but it seems better out here in the open air. People passing by get a nod whether they look at him with a smile or a scowl; he's actually not in a mood to fight right now. In a week's time he might be dead, he might be entirely without hope of having his head to himself again, or he might be alone in his head. It's an odd feeling, and the chill breeze and stars seem perfectly suited for it. There's room on the bench to join him, a cat on his shoulder, and he's... at peace.

[For Cole]

Since River and Simon's disappearance, Anders has been looking out for glances of Cole more often, just... checking on the boy. He's worried about River, and while she and Cole aren't exactly the same, thinking of one brings the other to mind often. Popping up to the third floor of the tavern one evening bears fruit and Anders smiles as he heads over to join Cole.

"Hello. I... I realize I've not actually thought of what to say when I do run into you. You're doing well?"

[For Zevran]

This speech, however, he's practiced repeatedly, and as Anders knocks on Zevran's door with a package in hand, there's a whole lot of amusement in his voice.

"Zevran? I know you said not to bring back a cow, but..."

[For Nate]

It's ridiculous. It's ridiculous, and potentially useless, and there's not a chance that Nate will hate the wriggling animal in Anders' arms because Nate is Fereldan. In fact, he'll probably love it. Anders is counting on that. He hadn't exactly been counting on Purrelden being confused, though, so the cat on his head digging small claws in as she struggles to stay perched and far away from the tiny confusing barking thing is not something he'd been prepared for. Anders ducks into their tent awkwardly, hoping Nate's in there and talking without even looking.

"A little help, please?"

Wildcard me!

[Want something with Anders? Come on in! Start a header, or poke me on Plurk at Nadat for one. He's easily found around the healing tents in Skyhold and around Camp Shady Fucker/the Warden camp.]

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Ariadne shook her head a little bit, shrugging up one shoulder. "I try to fetch and carry things for the healers, when I can," she said. "And sometimes, I help Katniss with the refugees."

The truth was that her skills from back home were of little use to anyone besides Leliana. And Ariadne had yet to make up her mind about the other woman.

She smiled though, curling her fingers slightly. She wasn't accustomed to anyone holding her hand for so long. And among the Alastrians, it was a particularly intimate gesture. Of course, he couldn't know that. But she couldn't think of a polite way to pull away.

"Back home, my aunt was the royal translator to the court of the Elf princess, Amanda Harkin," she said. "I would sometimes assist her with her duties. But there's not much of a call for that here."

"I'm sorry. I've somehow missed you among the healing tents."

As her fingers curl, he releases her hand. There's little he's gaining from the shard yet. He needs to speak more with Solas, see what the elf can tell him.

"Have you a gift for languages? Could you learn several and teach them?"

She nodded slightly. Back home, she was always hesitant to share how quickly she learned new tongues. It marked her out as an Alastrian. And she'd been taught to hide that fact.

It didn't seem to matter as much here.

"I've already learned the Elf dialect," she admitted. "It's very pretty."

And fairly straightforward, too. Especially compared to the Elf dialect from back home. To say nothing of the Alastrian language itself, which was half words and half gestures. And even part song too, if she thought about it.

"Have you?" Then she's been here for some time indeed, likely. "Can you teach it? Say something in it?"

He speaks two languages, but it wouldn't hurt to speak more, really. Learning to communicate more could only help.

Smiling shyly, Ariadne repeated a few of the phrases she'd picked up, careful to keep her accent just right. She loved the lilt of the language. In the oddest ways, it reminded her of the way that her mother used to speak. And while she and her mother hadn't always seen eye to eye, there had been a great deal of love there.

She understood that. Now.

Glancing up under her lashes, she offered Anders an apologetic wince. "I'm not sure I'd be the best qualified to teach anything here. Except maybe the sling. I never see anyone else using one."

He echoes them, but it will take time for anything to settle in. Especially if she's not seeking to teach. That's all right, though. There's plenty to be done.

"You've no tricks you used while learning the language? Nothing to pass on? Because I can't really say I need to learn the sling. Unless it's for more than taking down rabbits."

Oh, Ariadne had taken down a lot more than rabbits. But she doubted that Anders was much suited for spywork. Besides the fact that everyone kept whispering about him, there was the fact that he had a memorable appearance. A nice, fine appearance, to be certain. But not one easily forgotten.

Ariadne had mastered that art herself.

"No tricks, I'm afraid," she said. "I just have a good ear. My aunt was royal translator for an Elf princess, back home. Sometimes, I was allowed to assist her with her duties."

"Mm. Well. That sounds... nice?" Tedious, really. Stand around and listen to people talk and tell them what the others said? There isn't even any fun to be had. Mis-translate with people with fancy titles, who think themselves special because of how they're born, and you pay. Gossip about it, and you pay. Make a mistake in context, you pay, and so on.

Ariadne heard the hesitation and had to smile. "It was a means to an end," she replied, shrugging up one shoulder.

A front for a much more important operation, really. A resistance, a rebellion. But she still wasn't entirely comfortable talking about that with the natives. Even if the Red Dragon meant nothing to them. She'd been trained to keep secrets. Born to do it, as all Alastrians were.

"And what about you?" she asked, sliding away from the issue. "What is it that you do?"

He knew evasion when he saw it, but he didn't need to pry. They've only just met. His life might be an open book, part of it actually was, but no one enjoyed that happening to themselves.

"I heal. I'm usually down at the healing tents, or if not there, in the Warden camp because I'm that too." She really didn't know who he was. That was nice. "And I raise and train my cat as a hobby. While connecting people with kittens that need homes; Skyhold is full of strays. Would you like a cat? We could go looking for one."

"Oh, I love cats," Ariadne replied, curling her fingers up and offering the knuckles to his kitten to sniff, if she so desired. "But I don't think I'd make a very good keeper of one. I don't even have a home. I just sleep anywhere I can find a decent branch. Better to let the refugee families have the nice places."

And she said that without irony, not at all self-effacing.

It was her way.

"But a healer? That's a very noble line of work, my lord."

Of course she so desired. Purrelden always desired, and she sniffed without hesitation before bumping her head against Ariadne's hand.

"Generally cats are fond of shelter, it's true." Some people prefer being in nature. If she likes branches, then she can enjoy her branches. "And there's... not a lot of nobility to it, or me. I was born with the talent, people need it. I'd hardly keep it to myself. It's not noble to share, it's simply not being an asshole. What one is born with should be used, and not feared. Or that's what I operate by, when I can. I assume it's likewise?"

Ariadne was only too happy to oblige the cat with scritches behind the ears. They were truly fascinating creatures. And it helped that they were so affectionate. Or, at least, Ariadne had never encountered an unpleasant cat.

But that might have been her personality.

"I like to think so," she replied. "But then again, I'm not the one who gets to decide what's trusted and what's feared." Thedas and her home had plenty in common. People always had a tendency to hate the things they couldn't understand. At least, when they weren't given the chance to understand.

Sometimes, her eternal optimism and cheerful outlook were hard to reconcile with the fear that had been bred into her since the day she first opened her eyes. It was harder here, given the way that everyone talked about demons.

"Everyone should make the choice for themselves. And then some are blind fools who let others tell them what to think, what's to be feared, without doing any thinking because thinking is difficult."

He's a little bitter about this. More than a little, and it's not something that he wants to dwell on when Justice is already tense about the upcoming ritual. To lose control now, when they may be on the eve of sending the spirit home and freeing Anders, would be... he wouldn't have words for how awful it would be.

"Yes, obviously, dragons should be feared. They've sharp pointy bits and like to eat people. But mages are people. Rifters are people, and so on. Reacting in fear is wasted everything. Potential, time, energy, life..."

She liked Anders. She liked the way he talked and she liked that she sensed genuine truth behind his words.

And she liked his cat, but that was a different matter.

Ariadne smiled prettily. "You're much more open-minded than some of the people I've met here. I like that. But...I'm afraid to ask it but...some of your open-mindedness comes from bad experience, doesn't it?"

That was often the case.

He exhales, reaching over to play with Purrelden's tall. "That's the way of it, isn't it? Empathy gets built on a foundation of needing it. Apathy comes from living a life with little in the way of true struggle, or having difficulties and being helped out and thinking they did it all on their own, that anyone can. It's why so many pleas for help or understanding fall on deaf ears."

It's why, more than ever, mages have to work to prove themselves people. Now is when non- mages can get to know then and see more than simply a threat. It shouldn't have to fall on the mages, but no one is going to try to step out of their comfort zone for them.

"I don't know if it's always the way," Ariadne replied. "I like to think that people are good, deep down inside. But there is something to be said for a foundation of empathy."

She examined Anders, her head tilted to one side.

For a moment, she debated asking the question. Not just any question. It was The Question. And when she asked it, she had a tendency to see either the best or worst in people. She already liked Anders. She hoped she wouldn't be disappointed.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

What a question. Justice wants to, yes. But Justice always wants to, and Anders isn't sure he wants to risk one of his last afternoons ranting about his past. A frown flickers on his face as he debates it with himself. His message does need to last, whatever happens.

"I suppose I do. Especially when... There are so many mages who are letting fear of the outside world threaten their future and the future of everyone else. They could take away any hope for the future generations being free simply because they like the comfort of their cages, and the Chantry wants its power back - power that is dependent on telling people they're protecting them from mages. I don't want all I did to be for nothing. I don't want the few who are scared or greedy to sentence us to hundreds more years of cruelty and abuses and captivity."

It's a lot of words, all of them weighed down. "We all lose if we're held again, if people fear us for what we're born. The fearful lose as well; healing is the most effective way to take care of injuries or illness and restricting it to those who can pay means a great many more die."

Ariadne liked his sentiments. If there was anyone back home who hated the power that fear had over others, it was an Alastrian refugee, pretending to be Human, sacrificing the very thing that made her Alastrian just to pull off a ruse.

But Anders probably wasn't looking for confirmation. Few people did in a state such as this.

It was something else that caught her interest.

"All you did?" she repeated. "What did you do?"

Oh. That's why she'd been friendly. Anders' expression falters and he looks down at Purrelden.

"To stop a Rite of Annulment, to stop constant compromise from continuing to cost mage lives, I blew up a Chantry. Fewer died that night than otherwise would have, a few dozen versus hundreds, but they did die by my doing, my hand."

And this is probably when she walks away. She'll be far from the first. At least the conversation had been nice while it lasted.

"Oh."

There was little else to say to that, although she suspected the natives probably had more of a sense of...outrage? But she barely even knew what a Chantry was, to say nothing of a Rite of Annulment. And without that context, she could only go on saving hundred of lives. Which was noble, even if the sacrifice sounded a little too great for her liking.

She tilted her head slightly. "Did it work? Did you have hundreds of lives?"

"Yes." But he doesn't sound happy or triumphant. More had lived than otherwise would have, in sum, but he'd been the one to kill a lot.

Anders exhales and shakes his head. "Ends, means, that whole mess. If you want to walk away from me I understand." She won't be the first, she won't be the last.

She shook her head slowly. "No. I never walk away from someone with good intentions." As much as she didn't like killing, she absolutely believed that Anders had good intentions. And she herself was certainly guilty of more than a few crimes, in the name of such.

"Besides," she added, "it's not my place to pass judgment on anyone." Especially the natives.

This was their home, not hers.

That hasn't stopped all that many, which puts her above those who rush to judge in his mind. He looked up and studied her for a moment before slowly nodding thanks to her.

"In that case, you may continue to hold and pet Purrelden. She seems to like you anyway. Not like she's exactly picky, but she doesn't always go to someone so easily." His voice is fond as he speaks of Purrelden, playing with her hind paw and getting a playful bat back.

"Animals like me," she said absently, pleased by his response. It seemed that Anders must have been very, very lonely. Which could be sad. And Ariadne hated to see anyone sad.

She continued to shower the cat with scritches and pets.

But she looked up thoughtfully at Anders. "I don't mean to be rude, but I'm just wondering...if you did those things and people are judging you harshly for it, how it is that you're in the Inquisition?"

[Open] Save tonight, fight the break of dawn

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