faderift | [ OPEN ] We shift and turn and swear and yearn

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[ OPEN ] We shift and turn and swear and yearn

WHO: Adelaide & you
WHAT: Catch All for the month
WHEN: June/Justinian
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Wine, swearing, PUPPIES, allusions to demonic violence. Prose or Brackets are fine, roll with what you like most. If you want a specific prompt hit me up on plurk @ here!

[ Courtyard -> Stables ]

When her sister wrote 'their arrival is imminent' Adelaide had not quite considered how imminent Juliette meant. Perhaps she might have been better prepared for signing off with the courier when they herd the rather rambunctious litter of several month old mabari pups to one of the few empty stalls in the barn. Playful things that they are- Dennet is a horse master not a hound master and it will be some time before the appropriate point of authority finds their way down to check on the five puppies ready for imprinting or...whatever it is these dogs do- but they will need minding until they are handed off and as she'd had the fortune to sign for them- Adelaide finds herself sitting in the barn, trying to keep the dogs from gnawing on one another, on her, or on anything valuable. Moments like this are a thorough reminder as to why she is a cat person.

[ Library ]

She can be found, as ever, at her table tucked into one of the unoccupied nooks of the library- a cold cup of tea at her elbow, a sheaf of notes she writes and reorganizes- a quill on occasion hovering over a sheet of blank paper and mimicking her notes stroke for stroke so she might produce them in duplicate. So long as she remembers exactly how she's laid out the paper, it works well enough. For questions, comments, concerns, condemnations or complications that have arisen during research she has made herself thoroughly available.

[ Return of the Attache ]

"No." That is all she has to say. No. She won't bother to stop or listen, she won't bother to mind him in the slightest- that same family attache doggedly tails Adelaide about the hold, hovering just behind with a leatherbound sheaf of papers in his hand while he awaits for some sign that she'll take them or at least listen. He spends the bulk of his time holding the odd extra book or pen or, in a singularly distressing moment, a pad of gauze against a seeping wound as she mends a patient in the healing tents. He's a step down from a personal valet- he is not meant to be dealing with literal bloody commoners and yet- this is his life. Someone please help him convince Adelaide to at least take the papers and look at them.

AFTER JUSTINIAN 19th

[ Stairs ]

After the final ritual is all said, done, and finished Adelaide finds she has a wealth of extra time due to no longer needing to spend several hours picking apart what went wrong with the last and what could go wrong with the next- and at least a few hours extra that she'd otherwise spend training with Martel in the evenings due to the incontinence that is her leg. Magic, even hers, can only do so much and the nasty break in that last fight leaves her less walking with the calm poise she's known for and more hobbling from place to place, staff less an afterthought and more a requirement for keeping her weight off her leg. At the moment she's glowering at the stones underfoot as she takes one slow, shuffling step up the stairs at a time. Her research is in the library- and eventually she would make her way there. Just- give her some time.

[ Healing Tents ]

Here, at least, there are fewer stairs. Adelaide splits her time between minding patients and beginning new notations on old research she'd set aside- tending to those she could while moving as little as possible for the first few days. Her humor is...subdued, somewhat, but that is easily explained by the weight of her work of the past months finally catching up now that she is forced to spend less time on her feet. Now and then she might be caught dozing, chin tipped to her chest, fingers still holding the page of her book in place.

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[It's impossible to not see the hurt in her expression, the way she looks at him, the anger from his betrayal. And it does sting, but Bruce knows he deserves it. After all that had happened--he of all people deserves it most of all.

He can only look at her for a moment before he glances away and forces himself to take in a slow breath. Control. He needs to remember that.]

What do you want to know?

Why.

[ Bruce is no struggling apprentice, no frightened young girl hiding for his own sanity. He is no untrained mage- the spells he cast, the way he cast? Spoke of Circle Training. For months he'd sat back and watched the Council form, watched the mages scrabble for some sense of peace- and he has held himself apart. ]

[That is the big question, isn't it. Why. And there is an answer to it, but its not one he can say without it leading to a million other things that Adelaide still doesn't know about him. And isn't that the biggest kicker of all, the fact that him being a mage is just the tip of the mountain of secrets that he kept from her. From everybody else.]

You're going to have to be more specific than that.

[Not the best response, but - well, it'll be easier to tackle if he has a list on what she exactly wants to know.]

Start at the beginning and work your way from there- do not give me this pedantic, semantic bullshit Bruce!

[ Ice crackles in her voice- frosts over her fingertips and breath before she is able to reign it in. Control. She must be in control- even if she would rather walk away and never return- she needs to know what was worth breaking her trust.

What was worth this lie. ]

[It's hard to ignore her anger - it shows in the way her voice snaps, at the sudden chill in the air that he is all too sensitive to. It doesn't last too long, but he feels it linger, sinking into his bones.

He lets out a sharp exhale.]

I'm sure you can already figure out the basics. [Circle mage, left at some point, kept in hiding until--well, until then.] I don't know what you want me to say, Leblanc. I'm not here to give you some sob story virtually every other mage in Thedas has to offer.

The truth would be a marvelous place to start- though expecting that from you seems a fools errand.

[ Why is she bothering? He'll continue to not say anything as it suits him- because this, whatever she thought might be between them, this trust, this friendship? Means nothing to him, clearly. ]

I would not know if yours is one of those- as you have told me fuck and all of yourself. Is your name truly Bruce, or is that another lie? Whatever you tell me I cannot trust- for you've shown me none.

[On the contrary, its because this meant to much to--Adelaide is an example of somebody he can never be, no matter how hard he tries. He has too many ghosts, too many scars, too many... everything. She is somebody who will rise, perhaps, in time, while Bruce will forever stay in the shadows, letting them wash over him, hide him, take him away from everything else. Its easier that way. Safer.

Even now he knows he cannot say everything - only a small fraction of what he still hides. Even as much as deserves the truth, this truth is one of great consequence, and he cannot let her bear it. This is his burden to carry.]

Bruce is my name. [Sort of, anyway, to a degree - and already he's cursing himself for the continued lie.] I did originally hail from Ferelden. I... [Another sigh.] Is it enough to say that I simply don't like being a mage and what it entails?

Had you said as such from the beginning? Yes.

[ Had there been a hint, a murmur, the barest glimmer of a notion she would have let if rest. But now? Now she cannot. ]

Why did you not tell me?

Because I had no reason to.

[It's not as if anything will change for him even if he said it. He's not going to parade around with his magic just because he tells it to one person. It's just easier to blend in when he's not a mage, when he's somebody people can simply ignore and forget.]

I know you're blaming yourself and--everything, but don't. We both know I'm not worth the effort, and its really not your fault in the first place. I was in the Inquisition long before you ever arrived and its simply been the cover I had from the beginning. There was no reason to change it just because you came into the picture.

[It all comes out quite blunt, he knows, but there's no point in sugarcoating this. This is as much of the truth as he can give to her, for what she has done for him and the hurt he's given to her.]

Of course not. Trust obviously is a one way street with you, yes? As is respect. You do not need to trust me to respect that I say what I do and do not give a damn about- about who I choose to give my time. Fuck you for assuming you know better.

[ Deep breaths. Deep, calming breaths- not that they were at all terribly calming, not that they were at all terribly even. Fine. ]

For once I am not blaming myself, Bruce. I am blaming you for every person that you might have saved that as injured or killed because you chose to hide simply due to what you are being inconvinent. We do not get to choose what we are, we can choose to hide it, but how dare you waste it out of self pity.

[It'd be easy to snap back, to say a million different things to what Adelaide accuses him of. But honestly anything she says of him now Bruce has thought to himself a hundred, a thousand times more. Her words are nothing compared to the Nightmare in the Fade, and that had been nothing compared to what Bruce tells himself every single day. He knows his mistakes, his faults, the weight of his sins - he carries them on his shoulders everyday, sees it every night when he closes his eyes. Every life that's lost, every life that's stolen - he sees them all and he remembers.

There is nothing in Adelaide's words that Bruce doesn't already know, because he tells it to himself every single second of his waking hours.]

I've made my choice long ago. [This was the safest way for him to exist, to keep everyone else safe. Without his magic he can blend in and it makes running that much easier.] And there is no reason to change that, even now.

No.

[ Flat, devoid of her anger, entirely certain. ]

No. You are not stuffing this back under a hat. You have shown yourself for what you are and you are going to live with it. You are going to use your magic to help the people of the Inquisition as you should have been from the beginning.

[For a moment there's a flash of something that crosses Bruce's face - something fierce and irrational and angry - but it disappears as soon as it shows and his expression is placid once again.

A breath. And then two. Then a curt nod.]

If that's what you demand.

[In a way Bruce knows he's getting off lightly with her, but still--it doesn't quite quell down the storm that rages inside of him.]

[ Try her. Honestly, Bruce, try her. It will occur to her later that the flash of anger is the first real sign of sincere emotion she's witnessed in him-

Ever.

And that might be worrying. But for now she has her rage, her righteous fury, and she will not be deterred. ]

It is what you owe the Inquisition. What you owe the herald. What you owe me. [ She takes a deep breath, pulling all that hurt, all that upset in, and clicks over to instructor mode. All flat, stern voice, exacting and precise. ] I expect a full written self assessment of your skills and points of research by the end of the day so I might assign you projects where you will be of the most use. Leave nothing out. Understood?

[Control. Absolute, firm control. Bruce reminds himself of that, keeps his expression placid and neutral as he regards her with a cool gaze - or rather, an emotionless mask that seals off everything else that he could feel right now. Emotions have always been a terrible thing to work with.]

Understood. [Quiet but firm, tone, expression and voice completely flat. It's not like there's anything else he could say at this point. Adelaide is too lost in her own anger to listen otherwise and Bruce doesn't blame her for that, but it doesn't make anything any easier either.

Besides, it'll be easier like this, in the long run.]

[ She stands, then, more or less finished. There is little more to say to Bruce at this point. When she is calmer, cooler, she might think of other things, other gestures. But for the moment? Her temper has it's hooks in deep. ]

You know where to find me.

[ Most everyone does, truly. With that she slips from his tent, taking the chill with her. ]

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[ OPEN ] We shift and turn and swear and yearn

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