faderift | My friends say, are you gonna be sad?

WHO: Character(s) Maxwell Trevean and You
WHAT: Kingsway Catchall
WHEN: Over Kingsway
WHERE: Around Skyhold
NOTES: Mention of death (Kain's)

He'd warned Gavin. He'd given the elf a key. So now it was time to actually get on with installing an official lock on the cubbiehole Maxwell called a bedroom.

On his knees on the floor, he worked behind the door, tools tapping and scrapping, humming softly to himself as he set the lock. Hopefully, anyone stopping to see him would knock first, lest he catch it opening with his face....

~.~

Maxwell could have delegated the job of checking and refilling the bird feeder he'd installed to someone else, but he found he enjoyed the simple task. It wasn't just a favor to Kain (and then, later, in honor of his memory) - other birds had come to flock about it too - it was an easy excuse to get out and into the sunshine whenever the keep's walls started to feel a little too dark and heavy.

Besides, it was in sight off both the halla and griffon pens, so he could watch either without actually getting too close. And if he decided to plop down and do some sketching, well, at least he'd gotten something productive done.

~.~

It snuck up on him.

It wasn't until he was dating an official missive, that he realized how deep they were into Kingsway. How close it actually was to his birthday. How it would be his first birthday alone.

Away from home. Away from his parents.

It wasn't that it ever been an outrageously grand affair - family, perhaps some friends of said, all the appropriate movers and shakers - but privately there had always been a spectacle.

A lot of sighing. A lot of passive-aggression. A new ultimatum every year as his gift.

For a long moment he sat silently, blinking ahead, processing what it would mean to be at Skyhold (or anywhere with the Inquisition as opposed to home) on the 25th. Then he smiled. Small, and then wider, grinning brightly down at the letter and re-dipping his quill in the well with a happy little clink.

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"Lucky, I might say, so far as the magic goes," he mused, quill scratching lightly, ink shining in its wake. "For as amazing as it is, it's certainly cause it's far share of trouble...."

He glanced up.

"But if there's one thing I've seen as a constant in all rifter stories, it's that we don't need any one reason to fight with each other. We'll find one regardless."

"I wouldn't necessarily say that. Any tool can cause trouble, it's just the people that use it," he reasoned. "Advancements in technology came with the same sort of thing - many wanted to use for good, but some used it for bad. At the end of the day, it's all about who's the one using it."

That was his thought at least. He might not like magic, but it wasn't because he thought it dangerous - more because it made him squint at the way it bent rules of logic and physics among other things. He'd always seen it as a tool and nothing more.

"And yeah, my world had plenty of reasons for fighting each other, but we got over that thankfully," he smiled as the chick stretched its wings. Such a beautiful creature - a pity they didn't exist on Earth. "Took a damn long time though."

That surprised him. His quill came to halt again, head coming up, his eyebrows jumping.

"Are you saying... there's no war at all where you're from? Everyone just, gets along?"

He couldn't begin to imagine....

"No major wars on Earth, not since World War III," he nodded, knowing how strange it sounded, but in a way he liked mentioning it because it could plant a seed, a hope for this world to move beyond their current hardships and truly prosper. He wanted that for them, for the people here he cared about and the future of this world. In time, he thought, it would be a wonderful place and he hoped that the Fleet could find it again. It had so much to offer, after all, such good people.

"We've had wars with other worlds - not ones we started, mind - but none on Earth for a few hundred years now. Not to say everyone gets along, because we're only human, but no wars."

He started a bit when the chick sharply flapped its wings, a grin spreading as he watched it, fascinated with its loveliness.

'World War III' sounded horrifying, he couldn't help but think, but the rest of it....

"So someone has managed it," he murmured. "It's possible..."

Had it been a specific set of circumstances, he wondered, or just a lot of effort by a lot of determined people? The latter they could replicate, the former - likely not so much.

"Maker willing," he sighed, eyes returning to the griffon pen.

Noting Kirk's grin, he nodded to the animals.

"The symbol of the Grey Wardens. They used them as mounts."

It was horrible, Maxwell. It was terrible, though Kirk had not been alive when it happened.

"Quite a few worlds have," Kirk elaborated gently. "I have faith that this world can achieve it too. I find that even though there might be horrible things happening, so long as good men and women exist, a world can achieve many things. And from what I have seen, there are quite a few of those good men and women to be found here." He gave Maxwell a look, a tiny smile at the corner of his lips. You're included in that, Maxwell.

He returned his attention back to the animals, resting his chin on a tucked in knee. "Yeah, I would need a change of pants if I saw someone on one of those coming out of the sky."

Maxwell laughed.

"If only darkspawn and archdemons were more like you then. The wardens might have an easier time of it." A beat. "Us too, now, come to think of it."

...Who would of thought? Maxwell Trevean, slaying darkspawn.

His childhood self would have been so impressed.

"Oh, now, come on. I like to think I would put up a good enough fight, even though I might be in need of new trousers," he laughed, giving Maxwell a friendly shove. "I think I have fought well, actually. And I've been practicing my shooting." He grinned at him, miming the draw, fingers kissing his cheek.

"Have you now?" Maxwell grinned, eyebrows arching as he rocked with the shove. "Perhaps I'll have to increase the challenge next lesson, then."

"Hah, I've never shied away from a challenge," he boasted. "I'm actually managing to hit targets now, as it happens."

"Then it's time to start them moving, isn't it?" Maxwell replied without missing a beat.

Slowly, of course, but moving as most targets Kirk was likely to have was unlikely to be so helpful as to stand still.

He blew on his sketch to dry the wettest parts, and then flipped to the back of his journal and began to stretch out a note to himself.

"Don't expect a sterling performance," he warned. "I say I can hit targets, but they've all been stationary. It really is quite different my phaser..." he muttered.

"You know, I probably owe you for some of my lessons by now. Any requests?"

"Everyone starts somewhere," Maxwell replied easily, waving lightly with one hand as he finished up a supply list. Then, looking up, he shook his head and smiled gently. "I'm good for the moment, but if that changes, I'll let you know."

"You sure? I feel kind of bad, getting the lessons for free," he said.

My friends say, are you gonna be sad?

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