and all that is left is sin and a gaping hole where the heart should be,

[ipseite]

WHO: Anders + Petrana
WHAT: A conversation.
WHEN: Currentish.
WHERE: The Gallows, Kirkwall.
NOTES: Discussing of abortion, unwanted pregnancy and strongly implied marital discord.

Anders had been kind to her.

Shortly after arriving, her first use of magic in this strange place - and it felt different, she thought, than it had done at home - he had been there, and kind, and patient. He had explained what he could about the situation in which she now found herself; he had given her what he could not have been expecting at the time to be assurances. And he had told her that she was not alone.

As much as she welcomes hearing it, it is hard to feel. The eyes of strangers feel heavy, and her back exposed; she has been lonely for so long it's nothing new, but always before there was at least...

In a month's time, she'll be sure, regardless. But there are healers here with abilities strange to her, and those weeks interminable, and she needs to know sooner than that what options are open to her. Anders was kind. Anders, she thinks, might be kind again -

and discreet.

It is not difficult to find where the healers are.

"Might we speak - privately?"

Comments

[ipseite]

If she can't quite summon an answering smile, it isn't because she isn't relieved -

Rather, that it's somewhat overwhelming. How suddenly things shift under her feet, again and again and again and again. Her hands press to where his has only just withdrawn from, exhaling, a purposeful steadying. She will be composed before she leaves this room.

"Thank God," she says, uncharacteristically fervent. "And thank you--"

Ah, that's what she sounds like when she means it.

[justice_is_blond]

God is an interesting title, but now is far from the appropriate time to find out more about her world's religious system. Now is the time to be calm because while it was clear she was stressed before, and it's even more obvious after that.

"You're welcome." He means it in return, though he generally means it when he thanks or welcomes someone. "I've tea warmed up in the other room. Would you like some? I find it helps when things are a little... more stressful than usual." At all times, really, honestly.

[ipseite]

Courtesy is courtesy and sincerity is sincerity and, like marriage and love, the two things may coincide or they may not. It is what it is. Petrana, raised a certain way, will always behave a certain way - she will never be rude when she could be polite.

Which is why even now, she gathers herself, musters that smile with difficulty but determination, and nods. She might prefer to go at once, to close a door and let herself experience this alone, but Anders offers her a hand in friendship and she wants to be someone who knows how to accept that. She wants to be someone who can accept comfort when it's offered to her, even if perhaps she isn't, really, not yet. Instinct tells her to protect herself; that protecting herself means isolation.

Yield, she thinks. A little.

"I would like that," she says, and maybe it means more that she would like saying so to be true, but it is an earnest effort worth making.

[justice_is_blond]

Sometimes he feels a little guilty, befriending the Rifters, like he's taking advantage of them not knowing who he is and what he's done. But he's helped her. He's been himself, hasn't tricked her or something, and he thinks that maybe that makes it all right to feel glad when she wants to take tea with him.

"As would I." Anders leads the way out and starts pouring the tea, tilting his head to indicate the small bowl next to the teapot. "Sugar? I don't have cream at the moment, I've left behind my Skyhold supplier, but it's been fine without."

And hopefully she can still enjoy tea without cream. Most people can, he's fairly certain, but most people he's known haven't exactly always had access to cream. Or sugar. Or sometimes even tea.

[ipseite]

Under the circumstances, that he has sugar at all is a pleasant surprise - nevermind cream. Petrana says, "A little, thank you," those reflexive manners kicking in, stillness settling around her again like a shawl, tidying away the ugly things she did not mean to share. (A shroud; a death mask.)

It's the falsest, easiest way to become steady; to be obliged to, for an audience. Old instincts not soon undone.

"I have heard Skyhold mentioned several times," she says. "It is where the Inquisition seat remains, no?"

[justice_is_blond]

"It is." He adds the sugar and passes over her cup before taking his own and then taking a seat, nodding to the stool near her.

"It's a fortress up in the mountains between two countries, Fereldan and Orlais. It wasn't truly convenient to anything, which is really the point of a fortress. Here we've the harbor as well as land routes, and thankfully no snow. Just a lot of history, and very little of it good."