faderift | I'm one card short of a full deck, I'm not quite the shilling [open]

WHO: Jefferson and YOU.
WHAT: The hatter's settling in at Skyhold. Well. As settled as he can be. The guy's kind of twitchy.
WHEN: Latter part of Solace
WHERE: Skyhold and all associated locales.
NOTES: Will add warnings as needed.

They've been shepherded to this keep in the middle of the mountain range with the promise that they aren't the only ones. That they're working on a way to send them all back home again. It's more than he expected, the courtesy and hospitality, even if some of the people in the keep give them wary looks. There have been incidents. The extent of which he's not sure, but it's not a surprise. Traveling between worlds is tricky at the best of times.

And it's never left him with a souvenir like this one. The mark feels like an invasion, like corruption, and it makes his skin crawl. Occasionally he's taken to rubbing at the green mark on his hand, sometimes without noticing that he's doing it. It's done nothing to improve his already rather nervous temperament.

Still, best thing to do for the moment is try to adapt. Don't draw too much attention, observe the goings on in the castle. He keeps his distance from the soldiers and the training ring, though he does on occasion stop to watch. He flits into the tavern and out again, able to overhear some decent bits of gossip.

There's also a library, as it turns out. It's doubtful there'd be anything of use as far as getting them home, or surely they would have found it by now, but it can't hurt to have a look on the sly. He's not quite sure if 'Rifters' are allowed to go poking through their things, so he does so when there are relatively few people around.

This isn't quite the prison he expected it to be. But that doesn't change the fact that once again, he's been torn away from his daughter. That's a bitter pill to swallow, no matter how scenic the vistas or friendly the people.

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"Not much of a choice there. What's physical pain, anyway?" He chuckles, though without any real mirth, and offers up his hand to the healer. Alright. If he's able to do something about it, it's better than just having it throb at random intervals and remind him of his predicament.

As though he doesn't already know well enough.

"I've had worse, I suppose."

"It's still pain." Even low pain still causes problems and isn't pleasant. Anders takes the man's hand in his and casts, easing the nerve endings around the shard. He can't make a huge difference, but at least he can help some.

"There," he says after a few moments. "That should at least be a lot more tolerable." A beat. "Which is about what I can hope for your stay here. I'm Anders, by the way."

"Jefferson."

He flexes his fingers, feeling the warm, soothing magic start to edge back some of the discomfort. He's seen -- and experienced -- more miraculous healing to be sure, but he's grateful for it all the same. Most magic comes with a price. He knows that all too well.

So maybe there's a shade of something wary when his eyes lift, scanning the mage's face. "Stirring recommendation. It's a wonder they don't have you greeting us on our way in from the wilderness. Almost as good as the woman who brought me in."

Anders' expression goes wry.

"The good news is that many of us don't believe you, Rifters, are demons and threats, and that there's a higher concentration of friendly sorts in Skyhold than elsewhere. The bad news is that there are a lot of idiots who would like to blame anything different as demonic and fear it. So you're not likely to have an easy stay of it, but hopefully it won't be worse than a dull ache, Jefferson."

He finishes casting and pulls his hands back. "The added good news, though, is that none of the spirit healers hold the demons view, so you can find treatment there for hand pain or various other things without fear."

"Would that anything 'different' include magic, by any chance?"

It's a shot in the dark, but Jefferson knows people. He knows the reservation held for magic in his own world, the dark reminder that it always comes with a price. Add to that mix some global catastrophe and ignorant peasants looking for something or someone to blame...and you've got a recipe for some real nastiness.

People are people, no matter where you go, what land you visit. There's hardly a world, even one that contains magic, where people don't immediately turn on the miraculous once it suits them to do so.

He gives the man a wry smile.

"Of course it does. Why would anyone accept magic as a normal part of their lives? It can only heal, and heat a home, and provide clean water, and so on. Not to say that it's without risks, but it's also not like we've any choice in having magic or not."

When he was little, he would have done anything to trade his magic away. Now, it's part of who he is. He wouldn't trade it. Though he could do with trading some of his cynicism away when greeting newer Rifers.

"Sorry. There are better welcoming committees to have, to be certain."

"You couldn't be worse than the woman who picked us up, trust me. Teren, I think she was called?"

He made a face, scrunching his nose. All the comment he has to make, really. It's not like a woman like that could go anywhere without a reputation. That's just how that works.

Anders laughs, now, wearing amusement plainly.

"I adore her... but I'll not deny that she takes quite some time to get to know. Nor will I deny that she's very abrasive until she finds reason to like someone in return. Teren is, quite likely, one of the worst welcome parties one could have. I'm sorry. In her defense, once she does find you worth her time she's not the sort to change her mind."

I'm one card short of a full deck, I'm not quite the shilling [open]

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