faderift | [OPEN] and anyway, I told the truth

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

While Anders speaks, Loghain moves around Sooty's stall collecting her tack from where he'd temporarily hung it on the wall; he gives his horse an affectionate pat on the neck, one last nibble of dried fruit, then lets himself out of the stall and secures the door behind him. Once he's put the horse's tack up in a nearby supply closet, he comes back out again, dusting dirt off his hands.

"Sometimes it's best to let them have their anger," he tells him grimly, like he wishes he had a better answer and regrets that he doesn't. He reaches out a hand to clap Anders once on the shoulder, then lets his hand drop. "The most you can do is protect yourself from the worst of it."

It's strange, this... whatever it is. Advice. Understanding. He's never really gone to someone for counsel before because there's never been anyone going through what he's dealing with, but here's a man with about a decade more experience than him in dealing with being hated by vast swathes of the populace, who is patting him on the shoulder and talking with him about it. Anders has no frame of reference for it.

"Or hide behind someone taller. Granted, it gets expensive to rent tall people to hide behind day after day, but it can be useful for getting around." They've gotten too serious, too honest, and the joke comes out as if he needs to hide some part of himself away.

Anders pushes himself away from the wall where he'd been leaning. "Do you still worry about Ferelden?"

Loghain won't tell him that it's all going to be all right, or that what he did was right. What they did--what both of them did--has had far-reaching consequences for every nation in Thedas. Consequences of that kind of scale defy the individual's right to call them good or evil.

He doesn't protest Anders' humour, even offering him the shade of a wry smile in return. When he asks, "Do you still worry about Ferelden?" Loghain's expression grows inscrutable, more difficult to read. He makes a thoughtful noise and looks away from Anders to Sooty's stall.

"No," he says at length, and adds with some subdued paternal pride, "Ferelden is in good hands, with Anora at the helm. It doesn't need me to see to its needs anymore."

There's an unexpected pang of jealousy in Anders' heart. Politics weren't an arena he'd ever wanted to enter, but he's involved now and there's no one he can pass matters off to. The Loyalists want the old ways back and don't care about how many the system destroyed so long as they feel safe again, the Extremists want blood and fire, and no one moderate is standing up. No one else is presenting an option to move forward that can serve them all. Just Anders. He can't step down yet.

"That has to be a weight off," he finally says, quietly. Family and a trusted person to delegate to.

"I think sometimes that if I could distance myself from the struggle things would be better for me, but," Anders shakes his head, "our freedoms are not yet won for good, our lives are not yet ours for good. Corypheus' appearance has given us a stay, not a victory, and stepping back and seeing all of it be for naught isn't something I can do."

Loghain doesn't respond immediately, and lets Anders' words hang between them for a moment; there's a subtle change in his features, a shifting of thought, of feeling, but it's difficult to pin down exactly what the change signifies. He reaches up to idly scratch at the beginnings of the five o'clock shadow darkening his weathered jaw.

At last, he begins with some reluctance, "I expect you won't want to hear this, but sometimes the best thing we can do in our respective situations is recognize when our input can only make things worse." He meets Anders' eyes; there's no judgment in his gaze, but the weight of his stare is still hard and uncompromising. "You're a young man yet; I've not known you long, but I think I've taken your measure enough to know that there's much good you can do for your people. But your voice, like mine, will forever have a weight to it that will tilt some against you, and against what matters to you."

"I know." He's not bothered by the reminder. But it doesn't change what he feels is key, and Anders rubs the back of his neck as he seeks a way to explain where he's coming from.

Finally he settles on something simple. "If others seeking a middle way would step up, I could step down. But no one else has suggested a middle option between 'going back to the Circles' and 'killing anyone who even thinks the word Circle again.' Neither option is acceptable. Until there's another voice out there I've a responsibility, as I helped to make the current situation. You've Anora. I don't, as the other level-headed mages don't tend to want anything to do with politics."

"Ferelden has its Queen," Loghain corrects, his tone careful but firm, and keeps his eyes on Anders. "That she is my daughter is the only claim I would ever make to her. She doesn't fulfill a role in lieu of me, nor at the behest of anyone but the Fereldan people. She's neither my successor, nor a regent in my stead. I was deposed, my claim illegitimate."

Sooty whickers at him beyond his shoulder, and Loghain turns to reach out a hand and fondly stroke the mare's dusky nose. After offering her a soothing word, he looks back to Anders again. "You needn't agree with me. I offer this only as something for you to consider."

"I meant no offense," Anders says, hands up momentarily. "I meant only that you had someone to have faith in. That is what I do not have, someone I can trust to look out for the future of all mages rather than simply themselves. I'm not suggesting you've any plans for Fereldan."

If he had that, Maker. He'd have so much more time with Nate and so much less stress on his shoulders. Anders bends down to pick up a tuxedo fellow who has been threading through his legs and purring. The cat doesn't stop purring and Anders happily pets him.

"I've thought about stopping. About simply being a Warden. I'd like to, one day. But until someone I can believe in steps up, that's simply not an option."

Loghain makes a slight gesture with his hand, as though to assure Anders 'no harm done,' and listens to him as he speaks. Yet it's still clear from his expression that on this point, at least, he and the younger man are not in agreement.

"That's a heavy burden," is what he says--a diplomatic and not untrue response, and decides to leave the discussion there for the moment. He gives Sooty's neck a gentle stroke, then steps away from her stall and gestures away with a hand. "I'm heading back to the Gallows, if you'd like to accompany me."

[OPEN] and anyway, I told the truth

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