[OPEN] Running with my roots pulled up

[amygdalae]

WHO: Bruce Banner and whoever else
WHAT: Rumors abound. Bruce is good at pretending he can't hear anything. A dracolisk makes everyone's life hell.
WHEN: Across Justinian
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Belated open log thing for the remainder of June; prompts and such are under the cut. Starting in brackets but feel free to switch to prose and I will follow. If you want specific prompts/starters, let me know @ knightblazer or PM this journal!

one. trouble on four hooves. (stables)

[It's not exactly the first time the horsemaster is on his case and it probably won't be the last as well, if the current situation is to go by it.

Horsemaster Dennet wasn't exactly thrilled with the dracolisk that had decided to trail all the way back here with him (muttering along the lines of 'as if one of them wasn't enough'), but the one that Bruce... was stuck with had a tendency for more collateral damage. Nothing major, at least, but after breaking three gates and four fences in its apparent nightly ritual of getting out of the stables there were some lines that needed to be drawn. Thus, this current situation.

The hammer in his hand pounds loudly against the nails as Bruce does his best fixing up the damage the dracolisk had caused in the last few nights. The sleeves of his threadbare shirts are rolled up, for even with the chill here pounding away like this still made him sweat quite a bit, especially as he continued to toil away the hours.

Beside him the dracolisk chewed delicately on some hay, clearly much calmer and less prone to violence now that its human was around.]

two. not quite back to business (healing tents, courtyard)

[It was impossible to ignore the rumors, even if they weren't that hotly circulated, for better or for worse. But still the damage had been done and it would be a lie if he said that things were the same as before.

Nothing was the same as it used to be. After the fallout with Adelaide things didn't really quite look up. Patients who once came to him for help now avoided his gaze entirely and went to others, and the new ones who came in now looked at him with wariness, with all the suspicion that frustrated Bruce more than anything else. This was one of the reasons why he hid his magic away, why he stuck to herbs and what he could do with nothing but his head and his own two hands. He was here to help and he didn't need his magic to do it. It wasn't worth any of this.

(But of course, he deserved it. He knows that. He deserves every bit of this.)

Still, regardless of everything, he came here to do a job and despite all that had happened, there were always going to be people who needed help. So Bruce does the best he can, going around the courtyard to treat whoever was willing to accept his help and aiding anybody who came to his tent while he was in there.]

three. midnight mulling (battlements)

[The battlements had, in a way, become something of a sanctuary to him now. When the night gets this dark and most of Skyhold is asleep, the biting chill of the cold and the silence of the night comforts him well.

On most other nights he'd have the excuse of potion brewing to be up here but tonight that desire isn't there. He sits on the floor, back against one of the walls as he glances out to the mountains that surround them, the sky above that twinkle with countless stars. When everything feels so vast and overwhelming its easy enough to lose himself into the sight, to let them take him away from the chaos of his mind and his soul. To find that momentary peace within himself again, when every part of him rages for something else otherwise.]

wildcard.

[Feel free to throw in your own prompt or PM/contact me to plot out stuff!]

Comments

[arcaneadvisor]

Yet more will join, I cannot imagine where they will all be housed.

[Even after all these years removed from the Wilds, she still values her solitude and her privacy, and always having so many people around with incessant questions or simply the lack of true silence grates on her towards the end of the day and she's lucky enough to have more escape options - to fly, to run, to slip through the eluvian.

Yet she wouldn't leave when this is where the next age will be shaped. When she can offer aid, and when the Inquisition will be able to aid her in the future though that day seems so very far away still.

Watching him, she frowns. She has never understood mages making themselves this way, the hiding, the secrecy, the shame, whatever any of it may be when she has always stood so proudly and she does so now, her shoulders back, head tilted to better look at him.] Were you always an apostate then? I never did hide, not precisely, though I was raised to be a Witch of the Wilds, something rather different to a mage. Villages fear strange girls as much as they fear anything.

[Especially strange girls with pretty faces lacking in manners.]

Kieran is a special lad, very curious. He will not cause trouble, I assure you. [A special boy with a great deal ahead of him but he has a good heart and she is proud of that.]

[amygdalae]

I'm sure something will be figured out.

[They have to, rather. There's no way they can just ignore all the people who come here for protection, who seek shelter from the chaos that has taken over most of Thedas - if not all. Innocents caught in the crossfire, children and families who led nothing but simply lives until... all of this. People who need help and who Bruce can't just turn away from, despite everything.

Another brief pause at the next question. Bruce folds his arms over his knees, tucking them close to his chest. He never really likes talking about... any of this, really. There's no pride or joy in being a mage - only pain and shame and horrors that would never end. He himself is a living example of it.]

I lived in a Circle before. [And it was good, honestly. He had a good life, could do good things, could just be--good. But of course he destroyed it with his own two hands for wanting to be more, for touching into things no human should touch and now he pays the price every day.] But after the Blight, and Kirkwall... things weren't the same as they used to be.

[And in regards to Kieran...]

And I don't worry about your child. He seems like a very good sort. [Pause.] And he has a good mother, too.

[arcaneadvisor]

[It was strange to watch a person make themselves small, whether that was their intent or not. Magic has never been something to be ashamed of.]

I saw Kinloch Hold. [Ten years later and still her first experience - only experience really - of a Circle still sticks with her. Truly, a trying time but the rot had set in before the Blight there, the very existence of the Circles in her eyes.] Everyone believes that mages outwith Circles run rampant, consorting with demons at will. Most believed us to be maleficars to be put to the flame, now after a taste of true freedom? [Well, she cannot imagine what the people must be saying.] Yet there were no abominations when my mother taught me magic as a girl, no temptations, nothing that made me frightened nor angry, nor desiring an escape. Kirkwall did always have such a long and bloody history however. You clearly took your freedom at some point.

[It's why she will fight tooth and nail for her son.]

I have fought to keep my reptutation from touching him. [For once she sounds tired when she admits that because it is tiring. That a boy cannot be a boy, that the mother would be used against him, and him against her. And once again she isn't quite sure what to say regarding her motherhood, the surprised smile show.] I--I thank you. Tis not easy, as any mother would say.

[For different reasons than her own.]

[amygdalae]

[Even Bruce has heard of the horrors that had been Kinloch Hold - hard not to, since he had still been in a Ferelden Circle at that point in time. The Blight was one thing, but to hear of what happened, to imagine the gruesome things that spread around... that had been one of the many reasons then why Bruce resolved to make his choice to do something, to try and make a difference. To prove that things could be better as long as they tried.

How that had all turned out instead.]

Even if I didn't leave then, I'd have been an apostate anyway when the Circles fell. [Not that Bruce had been there - in fact, he had been far, far away when it all went down. Harlem had still been a wound all too fresh, the aftermath of it something that had taken him so much time to get over. Even now he's still not entirely over it. Harlem had been the beginning of the end - or maybe it was just the end. It's hard to say on some days. But now its probably impossible to find an answer.

A finger scratches against his arm, an unconscious gesture as he stares out into the night, the mountains and the sky, watching the stars twinkle. Times like these, its almost easier to believe that Thedas could be at peace, that there was no war, no Corypheus, no Rift and no demons. If only.]

I can imagine so. [He eventually says after a pause.] It's all the more commendable. Being a parent must be hard during these trying times.

[arcaneadvisor]

[Flemeth would never have allowed a daughter to be anything other than proud, and there were times when Morrigan hadn't felt like a mage precisely. A Witch of the Wilds was very much a thing in and of itself that, the isolation that had come with it along with the teachings no Circle had known, and the time she had travelled with the Hero had only confirmed that. Her reputation in the Orlesian Court since was one of an apostate too, something scandalous. A sorceress. A dangerous and secretive creature that moved in another world to any of them that they could seldom grasp.

She had believed in power and survival. Ends she still believes in but there is salvaging the past, making the world less mundane before that is lost to them. How much knowledge even diluted by Chantry teachings and fear has forever slipped through their fingers with this war?]

Still you left. Or fled, that was how they phrased it prior to the fall of the Circles, was it not? [Reasons for leaving Circles were very few after all, that much Morrigan had learned in her time spent with Wynne during the Blight. The rare exceptions to being locked away, usually if a mage was required to fill the Grey Warden ranks or if a healer was truly needed but there could always be something else.

Had that been the case with him? It is still early but she may learn; he did tell her much before, and she likes him well enough after all.]

It is the task of a parent to prepare their child for the world as best they can. There is much I would protect him from yet not so much that I would do him more harm than good, you understand? There is a long and dangerous journey before him, and the lands will grow darker still before it is done. Yet I will be here, I will allow no harm to come to him. [The flame in her palms is lost when they curl into fists, her voice dropping into a low murmur edging on a growl; her gaze is far from him as she too looks out over the mountains as if searching for something or someone, the thing that might come. That terrible dreadful thing that would part her from her son. Yet the dangers are all around her and she knows it same as he must have fear discovery all the while he was here.]

[amygdalae]

[Bruce hums quietly in response. Call it fleeing, call it leaving - its still the same result in the end. He was branded an apostate (truth) and the Templars wanted him back to keep him under lock and key (false). Truthfully Bruce had no issue with being locked up; he deserved it, if anything. Why he had to evade that, however, was not for his sake, but for others. If the Templars did ever manage to crack the secrets of his body, of his existence... he didn't want to think what Thedas would be like now.

Even if he had to keep on fleeing for the rest of his life, Bruce would do so if it meant that his research would be kept away from the wrong hands.

He hears Morrigan's words and though he cannot relate what its like to be a parent, the protection she shows to her own son reminds him of the little he remembers of his mother. She had been kind, amazing and gentle and the reason why he doesn't simply let himself loose despite the want to sometimes, the urge to let everyone and everything feel all the rage that boils inside of him. There are people like her and others, who do not deserve the fate of a rampaging monster. There are people who deserve so much more than what they have.]

I understand. [A soft murmur.] And I think that makes you all the greater for it. In my own travels I've seen so many children abandoned by their parents who would rather care for themselves instead. [And to see them whiter and rot, so many of them, always brought heartache to him as he recalled his own shattered childhood, and the ruined ones of these poor souls who didn't even understand why their own parents would betray them so.]

[arcaneadvisor]

[Once there had been a girl in Lothering, a girl who had admired the feathers on her robes as Morrigan had stood apart from Jonas and Alistair after arguing with them. Her family had been packing still - sometimes she can scarcely believe she remembers such a small thing so very well - and she had plucked a feather from her shoulder to give to her, with a warning that darker days were yet to come. Now she wonders what became of that girl. Did her family even make it out before the Blight swallowed Lothering or was her fate like so many others?

She doesn't know what to do with praise, especially not with this, and she stares with a face more open than it normally is; there's no clever arch expression, no composed cool look, no joke that she understands and keeps to herself until the opportune moment. Her smile is small, almost hidden by shadow but it's there.]

Tis good of you to say so. [So many others would disagree. Her own heart collects doubts, piles them up to weigh them on the scales against her guilt, her love, her hurts, what she did and why and what she must do and all the messy awful terrible things from her own childhood.] Is that what drove you to heal? Surely you must have been tempted to use your magic? I travelled with a powerful healer once, true, she was possessed by a spirit of Faith not unlike that abomination amidst the ranks, what little healing I know in spells, I have used for Kieran. My own lies in herbalism and a touch.

[amygdalae]

[The mention of the spirit healer has Bruce pausing yet again. They're always a hard topic - harder now, considering Anders and what he did. It's not a lie that spirit healers were just a few bad days away from turning into the very thing that the Chantry fears, as is the case with Anders. But still, Bruce can't help but have a sense of envy towards them - he's the utter opposite of what they are, after all. The only thing he can ever do is to destroy with his powers. Its why he doesn't use them.]

Magic has already caused so much destruction - even that which tries to help usually ends up hurting instead. [Kirkwall being one famous example.] It's too unreliable, too volatile, and as much as we try to control it its never really in our control. The safer option is to not depend on it at all.

[Though with that said... Bruce sighs and rubs his hands, fingers idly massaging his bony wrists.] I've had years to wean myself off the conditioning; I only ever allow myself to use it in times of dire emergency. [Such as that one time with Zevran, or back in the Fade when Adelaide was in danger. It's only when every other option is exhausted then does he let himself do it.]

[arcaneadvisor]

[When Anders had so neatly driven such divisions between tentative friendships being formed, when he had wished to learn shapeshifting from her when she is sure he would have used it to hide when he is the sort of mage that makes life difficult for all the rest who have never known Circles, for her son who has barely known life? Well he will never be anything but the abomination. A flippant little fool even now from what she's heard over the sending crystals.]

Magic has done no such thing. Men with agendas have done that starting with the Tevinter Imperium when they set a tone by which each one of us has ever been measured against; how many believe even the simplest mage to be a maleficar? The Circles were places of subjugation where mages were ruled by the Chantry and by Templars, neither of whom understand magic. They sought to control that which they do not understand, to have mages live in fear. Small wonder so many Circle mages fall prey to the things that prowl the Fade. [Magic was a gift, not from the Maker the way others believed but it was power. Raw and simple, and Morrigan's sang in her bones; changing her shape is a particular skill that she's worked hard on all her life so it's no small wonder that she revels in it. Yet it isn't exactly anger in her voice. Yes, she scoffs at him, she tuts, but she's no longer a girl. It's disbelief that colours her words more than anything.]

That sounds more like a Templar speaking of lyrium than a mage speaking of magic.

[amygdalae]

Isn't it the same thing? Lyrium, magic - we've all come to depend on it, one way or another.

[As much as magic is feared people somehow can't imagine a life without it - the necessity it brings is just as ingrained as the fear. It's a strange dichotomy, and one that many don't dwell upon. Bruce was the same too, until the status quo changed for him.]

If we still don't understand magic and the Fade after spending so many Ages on it, then how can anybody ever expect to control it properly? [Honestly, he doesn't blame the Chantry and the Circles for what they did - the idea had always been noble, but time always had a way of eroding even the best of intentions.] Perhaps time is what is needed, but at this stage--maybe we're just not ready for it. [For magic.]

[arcaneadvisor]

Hardly. The Templars are fools to allow themselves to be bound in such a way. Magic was here long before men - can you imagine what Arlathan truly was? I have been to the ruins of the ancient elves, I have seen the cracked open bones stripped clean of the marrow. Or would you have us be as the Qunari?

[As much as she admired Sten as a singular entity, she would fight to the very death if it came to it should the invasion happen in her lifetime, if she could not find a place to hide and wait it out safely, if the Crossroads were not an option for herself and her son. His strength, his resolve, his will, those were all a credit. But the goals of the Qun? Morrigan would have no part in that, not now, not ever.] There is a way to cut yourself off, if you are so entirely - repelled? Is that the word? - by your nature. [Although that's probably off the table entirely now.

But to be a fly on the wall (or a swarm, to be a singular fly is quite impossible) should the Tranquil discussion ever be raised in a Council session…]

When the Circles seek to wipe out so many teachings, how can there ever be understanding? How much do you think we have lost even since the founding of them? My own magic was not taught within the Circles, the loss of even a single Dalish clan will result in the loss of irreplaceable knowledge. [What she has salvaged has broadened her own mind immeasurably and hers was not narrow when it came to magic in the first place but putting magic into neat little categories never works, not when something is raw, when something shouldn't be understood but simply lived, experienced, felt throughout the whole of a person.] If what this little Mage Council is seeking to accomplish does not hold when all this is at an end, Kirkwall will seek to restrict ever further, a tight little noose for even the unborn.

[amygdalae]

And yet the elves themselves eventually fell. [Bruce doesn't mean anything by that, but it is a fact - none of them would be here today if the elves were still as powerful as they used to be in the past. Now what is left of them can only be seen by the Dalish, or the city elves that try so hard to scrape by each day.

But he isn't here to start an argument. Bruce sighs quietly and casts his gaze down to his hands, his left rubbing his right wrist, thumb unconsciously tracing the ghost of an old scar hidden beneath the long sleeves of his loose shirts. He doesn't like what he is, its true, and its also true that he could do what Morrigan is hinting, but--

Well. He never had much of a choice in the matter anyway.]

I'm not here to discuss what's right and what's wrong. [Because, in the end, is there even a right and a wrong in this matter? Perhaps there is, but it doesn't apply to him any more - people like him don't deserve that kind of fair judgement. He's lost his right a long time ago.] I made my decision to live out my life the way I choose, not the way I was determined to be. This is the path I choose for myself.

[Even as he says that though he can feel it echoing hollowly in his ears. This was never a life he chose, for he was forced into it. For it is the only way for him to survive in this place. Every other alternative was worse.]

[arcaneadvisor]

I would caution you to be careful whom you say that to, if you value having your hearing intact, Beleth Ashara is the last one to bring up elven history around. [A little levity can be allowed, though there's a particular sigh from Morrigan since her few encounters with the young woman have grated on her. But she is careful now to keep certain opinions very much to herself, instead watching him.

How many years did she do this as a girl? Ever on the outskirts looking in on others, better still as a bird, as a cat, as a dog or sometimes more daringly as a wolf from some hidden spot.

Old habits, she gives herself a shake, drawing the hood of her robe up when the chill prickles the back of her neck.]

I am hardly the one to judge either way. [It's almost an apology. Almost.] Sometimes change is what sets a person free, no matter if they fight it with every fibre of their being. But I do know something, about choosing a path of mine own and not the one another would have seen fit for me, tis not quite so easy as some think. There are always pieces left behind.

[There will always be a little girl staring down at her tear-stained face in a shattered golden mirror as the mud of the Korcari Wilds swallowed it when her mother cast it down in anger.]

[amygdalae]

[There's a small, quiet laugh from Bruce - though its more dry than amused, and Bruce gives a small nod of agreement and understanding.]

I know better than to talk to elves about elves. [Its not like he knows a lot about them, only the basics and some things he heard in his years across Thedas. But enough to know that elves were a very sore subject for--well, elves. Which was funny in a sad, morbid way.

He listens to the rest of Morrigan's words, hearing what she says the things she doesn't say that he can pick up. There's not much he knows of her beyond her involvement with the Hero of Ferelden during the Fifth Blight ten years back, but as he's come to realize very quickly, her and everyone else in there were more than just figures of some epic story. They were people, too, with their own pasts and their own difficulties.]

Yeah. [He says eventually, fully comprehending. No matter how far he runs or how he hides, the ghosts of his pasts will always follow him, haunting. The sins will always be on his shoulders, the nightmares always in his head, the rage forever boiling underneath his skin.

He'll never be free, no matter what he does or tries.]