[OPEN] and anyway, I told the truth

[mactears]

WHO: Loghain Mac Tir, Alistair Theirin + OPEN
WHAT: Loghain settles into life in Kirkwall.
WHEN: Throughout early September, and right after Loghain and Alistair's sending crystal conversation.
WHERE: The stables; the Gallows library at night, the dining hall.
NOTES: The thread between Loghain and Alistair is open to everyone! Feel free to witness and contribute to what goes down. Aside from the first prompt, you can assume that the others happen on multiple different occasions throughout the month.

I. THE STABLES (ALISTAIR)


He reaches the stables towards the end of the day, with the last of the sun's warmth beginning to wane and some slight cloud cover rolling in from the west. It's cold, but his reception from Alistair is guaranteed to be downright frosty.

Loghain steps into the stables, and checks the impulse to detour past Sooty's stall. Best not to put this off. "Alistair?"



II. THE LIBRARY


Through trial and error, Loghain has determined that the best time to make use of the Inquisitions' research facilities is in the dead of night, for what normal person would choose to sit at a desk and squint at centuries' old books by candlelight? Doing this means it's a bit slower going for him to track down what he needs, but it at least also means that there are no scowling faces nearby to draw his focus away from his work.

There are, regretfully, few resources at his disposal here for research into red lyrium or Corypheus's history, but what few books and papers he has been able to dig up are currently spread out before him on a library table. Rather than sitting at a chair to work, Loghain instead paces slowly behind it, alternating between sipping from a cooling mug of black tea, leaning over to make pencil notations on a map, and flipping through pages of notes, searching for connections.

It's possible he's been at this for a few hours.



III. THE DINING HALL


In general, he prefers to take his meals in private, but suspects that over the long run, this will only make his situation in Kirkwall more difficult, and make the untenable aspects of it persist for even longer. So while he continues his routine of having breakfast alone, he makes it a point to join the rest of the Inquisition's personnel in one of the dining halls each day for both lunch and dinner. So far, most people have left him alone.

He's seated at one of those long tables now, idly stirring a spoon in a bowl of stew until it cools. The other hand holds open the pages of a book, which he reads from in silence.



IV. THE STABLES--ON A DIFFERENT DAY


The stables undoubtedly have grooms and stablehands to see to this sort of work, but Loghain has spent the last several months trekking across Thedas with only his horse for company. It still seems odd to leave her care in the hands of strangers.

Dressed in clothes he doesn't mind getting a bit dirty, he is at work in Sooty's stall brushing her coat down after an invigorating run through the surrounding, stark hills. He talks to her quietly under his breath as he does so, smiling, and feeds her bits of vegetable out of a pouch on his belt every so often.

Comments

III

[unbrokenoath]

There's a loud thump as Kaisa flops into the chair across from him--at least there's plenty of space available--and a softer thump as she sets her drink down on the table. For a few moments, silence follows--no cheerful introduction, or even erupting into immediate chatter, both of which are far more usual for her.

Instead, she just stares contemplatively at Loghain, sharp yellow eyes scanning him for...something. It's unclear what she's looking for, or if she's found it, once she breaks off to take a sip from her mug.

"So, you're Loghain." It's not condemnation, just observational. Then, after another pause: "I thought you were supposed to be, like. Old as dirt."

[mactears]

"I thought you were supposed to be, like. Old as dirt."

A snort. "I am old as dirt." Loghain turns the page in his book just long enough to finish reading the last sentence of what looks to be a novel of some kind, then closes it to squint across at his visitor. "Did you need something in particular, or did you just drop by to interrogate me about my age?"

[unbrokenoath]

"You don't look old as dirt." She comments calmly, rocking back in her chair. "You look like you can still hold a sword, at least. So I guess you're not completely geriatric." Charming.

"Maybe I am interrogating you about your age. Maybe I'm the official Inquisition age interrogator." She's stalling, because it's hard for her to explain exactly what she's here for--she's not entirely sure herself. Maybe she was hoping that she'd take a look at him and be able to instantly discern whether he was a mustache twirling villain, or a misunderstood hero.

Well, he doesn't have a mustache. But that's about all she can make out.

"Or, maybe I just wanted to meet you myself." She thinks for a moment, then holds out her hand. "Senior Warden Kaisa Daesun." A wry smile. "I'm kind of a big deal around here."

[mactears]

She's peculiar, but the Wardens have a way of acquiring the peculiar, don't they? Loghain doesn't quite return the smile, but he does reach out to clasp hands with Kaisa, giving hers a shake.

"Senior Warden Kaisa Daesun. I'm kind of a big deal around here."

"Yes, I recognize your voice now," he replies dryly, but this time the shadow of a wry smile is more evident on his weathered features. "You're the one who had a go at me about my horse's name, unless my memory is beginning to go in my 'dotage.'" yeah he heard that quip about him being almost geriatric.

[unbrokenoath]

"Sooty." Kaisa murmurs under her breath, mostly to confirm that yes, that's her, in the flesh. But nothing more is said about the poor maligned horse. Instead, Kaisa cocks her head thoughtfully at Loghain. "Didn't realize it was you. Suppose I understand why you didn't mention it, though--I remember the bullshit that went down when Anders got found out. Watch out for elves, man."

Her hands speak as much as her voice, gesturing about her as she continues. "They're little and cute, but they can hold a grudge and throw a punch. Not a hard punch, mind you, but a punch nevertheless." And then you have to sit on them until they stop trying to bite you. But that's probably a special case. Hopefully.

"Speaking of which," And it's back to seriousness, Kaisa's expression sombering. "What brings you here now, all of a sudden? The Wardens haven't had any worrying incidents or attempted blood sacrifices in, like. At least a month."

I

[byblow]

Alistair hears him, but there are a good ten seconds of silence. Relative silence, anyway: there are animal sounds, hooves occasionally knocked against wood, snorts and heavy breathing, and beyond that the sounds of the dock workers, distant wind and water. That's why Alistair is out here in the first place. It's soothing. They're all the sounds he used to hear falling asleep in Redcliffe Castle's stables. His mood is about five percent better than it would be if he were somewhere else, which is why it's only ten seconds of silence instead of twenty.

"Here," he says finally, grudgingly, while he releases the hoof he'd been trimming. He pats the horse on the shoulder—she's not his, he doesn't know whose she is, but her hooves needed work so here he is—and leans out over the stall door to look for Loghain. His face might as well have been carved out of stone. Angry stone.

[mactears]

Sooty's stall is a few down from the one where Alistair works now, and Loghain spots her head peering down at him as soon as she hears his voice. She's got her ears perked, expecting apples or some other treat.

She'll have to wait. Loghain grimaces and comes to stand several paces back from the door to the strange horse's stall. "Are you ready to talk?"

[byblow]

Alistair, thirty-three years old and a paragon of maturity, says, "You're the one who wanted to."

He was fine with publicly asking angry questions that danced around The Issue. The Issue is how much he would still like to kill Loghain. Answer: quite a lot, but not so much he will actually do it. He doesn't even have a sword here. And it might upset the horses.

The one he's in the stall with nudges his shoulder with her nose, and he puts a hand on her neck in acknowledgment. He has no plans of leaving the stall. Loghain can talk over the door.

[mactears]

"You're the one who wanted to."

It's true, and yet now that he's here, he's not sure what should be said, or what needs to be said--only that something must be.

He exhales and lifts a hand to rub at his brow line. "What did you expect to accomplish with your bold query today? That I would simply pack up and leave Kirkwall?"

e v e r y w h e r e

[doneisdone]

Loghain has a shadow, though he may not realize it. He probably assumes so on some level just being who he is, but Teren is pro at being shady, and it's been a while since she got to stretch these muscles.
It's easy enough to be near enough to hear and see him when they're both doing Warden things, and though she always keeps one ear open, Teren's real priority is anytime Loghain is interacting with the others, Alistair in particular.

One can hear a lot while sewing. Or brushing Boots. Or just, you know, existing in someone's general vicinity. Subtly.

the liiiiiibrary

[mactears]

This is not the first time Loghain notices her--he's too perceptive for that--but this is the first time he acknowledges that yes, she has been shadowing his steps. Truth be told, it's been a bit like a game for him to determine when her presence in his periphery is simply a matter of coincidence--they're both Wardens, after all, and called to the same fight--and when it seems too intentional to be anything but an accident.

He pauses in his slow, relentless pacing behind his work station in the library, collects up a candle stick, and moves quietly to stand near the end of a row of books. Peering around to the other side, he spots her; there's no surprise in his expression.

"If you're going to follow me around," he says, "you might as well come sit at the table and have a cup of tea while you're at it."

[doneisdone]

There's no surprise in hers either, though there is caution. Teren's eyes move before the rest of her, flitting up from whatever book she was holding and meeting Loghain's squarely, before she claps the book shut and puts it back. Striding toward him, she tilts her head, expression level but not completely unfriendly.
"Suits me fine," she decides, taking a seat. "You've settled in well."

[mactears]

In the dark of the library at night, Loghain has set up enough illumination around his work station to allow him to read and take notes without difficulty. There's only one chair here available for sitting in; the other holds holds a stack of reference material instead. Loghain isn't inclined to sit anyway, and seems to work best on his feet.

"You've settled in well."

He makes a noise halfway between a snort and a grudging laugh. "I've found work that needs doing, and am doing it," he replies a bit dryly, reclaims his mug of tea, and sips from it while examining the maps and papers laid open in front of him. A few seconds of grim silence, then a small shake of his head. "I doubt I will ever be 'settled' here." There's no bitterness or sadness there; just the frank reality that his time in Kirkwall is going to be hard, and he's accepted the fact.

IV

[justice_is_blond]

He's here because the cats come here. It's warm with straw and plenty of mice, and there are a few chubby cats that he likes to visit. The muttering he hears from one of the stalls doesn't seem threatening, so Anders pets the five cats that swarm him for bits of fish and finds the stress of the day fading away bit by bit.

Until one of the cats dashes into a stall.

"Serah Purrah!" It's a startled exclamation as he darts after it; there are a few people who hate the fact that cats gather here and he doesn't want the large pile of orange fluff to get hurt."

[mactears]

It's lucky the cat chose Sooty's stall, rather than the one belonging to a particularly temperamental stallion paddocked at the other end of the barn. Sooty, rather engrossed with her brush-down after her ride, only perks up her ears at the orange cat who comes trotting over to her long, rangy legs, and stands rather still. Possibly this isn't the first time she's received a feline visitor. Curious, she dips her head to whuffle at the cat's ears with her soft, velvety nose.

"It's fine," Loghain calls out to Anders, recognizing his voice, and eases himself down into a crouch--the old joints aren't what they used to be--holding a hand out towards the cat. "Come here, fellow."

[justice_is_blond]

"Sorry," he says as he opens the stall and leans in the doorway. "He's friendly, but not that smart. It's gotten him kicked a few times. By horses... and people." The last is said with no little judgment. What sort of person kicks a cat? Not any that he wants to be associated with.

For a few moments Anders is quiet, watching the cat slowly decide whether or not to trust Loghain. Once Serah Purrah relaxes, Anders does as well.

"So." He's pretty sure he already knows the answer to the question on his mind, but he'll ask it anyway. "How is fitting in going? And would you like a cat? He doesn't have an owner."

[mactears]

"So. How is fitting in going? And would you like a cat? He doesn't have an owner."

"I'm more of a dog person." Still, Loghain is willing enough to give Serah Purrah a few fond scratches beneath his chin, and a stroke from head to tail, before standing again. He comes to the stall door and opens it to let the little fellow escape, should he choose to.

As for the rest of Anders' question? He lifts his shoulders in a slight shrug. "Well I haven't been outright attacked by anyone--not physically, in any case." He doesn't feel the need to bring up Alistair's sending crystal debacle from the other day.

II

[circleprodigy]

Sleep is often an elusive thing for a Grey Warden, and Inessa can never seem to stay away from the library for long. So it seems inevitable that one night she enters when Loghain is also present. It's certainly not intentional, of course. Garahel, yawning at her side, perks up when the pacing reaches his ears. Realizing they aren't alone, Inessa allows him to go ahead, summoning a wisp for some light.

"Hermione, is that--" And the she some to an abrupt halt, stiffening as she spots him. The mabari recognizes Loghain as well, of course, but that doesn't stop him from padding over and wagging his tail at the man. Hi, friend!

[mactears]

He recognizes her immediately, of course; even without the hound for company, Inessa is not a figure easily mistaken for another, and though Loghain had welcomed her company when he first arrived, it is apparent to him in a glance that she now knows exactly who he is.

He won't slight Garahel, however. As the dog trots over to him, he reaches a hand down to scratch the top of his head, but cautions him with a tired-sounding, "Best not get too comfortable here, fellow."

[circleprodigy]

Loghain's reputation is well-known and though she wouldn't have recognized him by sight, Alistair's crystal message had made the new Warden's identity rather clear. Her eyes narrow, lips forming a thin line. There's no delusion about presenting an intimidating figure, but she can still make her displeasure known. Her voice remains calm, though the chill is undeniable.

"Warden Loghain. I believe introductions were lacking when last we met, though that was my fault as well. I am Inessa Serra, formerly of Kinloch Hold...and Denerim."

Sensing the tension from his mistress, Garahel lets out a soft whine. He likes getting head scratches, can't they stay?

[mactears]

"I am Inessa Sera, formerly of Kinloch Hold... and Denerim."

Loghain doesn't speak; there is, frankly, nothing that he can say in response to Inessa's cold, condemning stare. He can't, and won't, deny his guilt and complicity in the atrocities that transpired in Denerim, but there is no apology in the world that could even begin to make any of it right.

He gives Garahel one more fond scratch behind the ears, then urges him, "Go on," to return to Inessa's side. When he looks to the young woman again, his lips are pressed into a thin line, his hooded gaze dark with regret.

At length, he asks, "What would you have me say, Warden Serra?"

II

[sunshinethroughgrey]

Bethany Hawke Darton wasn't usually one for rudeness - in fact she went out of her way to be as kind as she could to every single living thing. She was kind, she was thoughtful, and above all she could learn to forgive and forget with the best of them.

In the case of Warden Loghain Mac Tir, she was ... running into a bit of a personal crisis. This was the man who had allowed Fereldan to become overrun by the Blight, who killed good King Callian, whose rule had destroyed their family farm. If Marian hadn't gone to get Carver -- it could have meant the death of her twin at Ostagar, not to mention Aveline as well.

Still -- still. As she and Anders had spoken about in their own silent way -- she had given Anders a chance after what he had done to Kirkwall.

So when she saw him in the Library, she stopped. Dead. Golden-brown eyes uncertain, and wary, before she pressed her lips together and put down her stack of books, turning abruptly on one heel and leaving the library proper.

She returned about ten minutes later with a small sack, put it down on the table she was using, then disappeared again. Another ten minutes gone by, and she returned with a laden tea tray, which she carried over to the table that Loghain was pacing behind, and put it down. Two cups, one pot of tea, and fresh baked muffins waited as Bethany turned around one more time to fetch her books and the burlap sack, which she put in front of Loghain.

Then she sucked in a deep breath, and held out her hand. "Warden Mac Tir, I am Warden Bethany Hawke-Darton. I've ... come to make peace."

[mactears]

Alone in the library at night, Loghain notices Bethany when she arrives, and when she departs. And when she arrives again. He pauses to review his work to watch with some interest as she approaches him with the tea tray, watches her set it down, gather her courage, and then extend a hand to him.

"Warden Mac Tir, I am Warden Bethany Hawke-Darton. I've... come to make peace."

Ah. That is one mystery solved.

It would seem petty, at this stage, to correct her, to remind her that he is a Senior Warden who should be addressed as such. That he possessed that rank had often not mattered in Montsimmard or Weisshaupt either. Still, he extends his hand across the table to shake hers, though he adds as he does so, "I have no quarrel with you, Warden."

[sunshinethroughgrey]

Well, he would be more than welcome to point out that he is a Senior Warden. She ... might take a little bit of vicious glee telling him that she's the Senior Mage Warden in these parts but. They have both decided to be adults.

Which is good, because she can already feel all her muscles locking into place. She shook his hand for a moment, before a flush came to her cheeks.

"I have with you - I mean. I did. I am ... trying to work my way through it. For my friend's sake. For all of our sakes. We ... could truly use a Warden with your sort of military experience, after all."

She took her hand back, so she could fuss with the sack. "So, as a welcome that I have done for all the Wardens, I've knitted some things for you. Weather gets cold in Kirkwall, so you'll probably need them."

[mactears]

He'd been expecting an argument or a lecture--not a gift. Loghain looks momentarily uncomfortable, looking aside from Bethany and the sack full of knitted things that she's rummaging through.

"There's no need for such a demonstration," he says quietly, though he realizes it's too late for that now. The girl can't very well un-knit her work. "But thank you, regardless."