WHO: Anders, Teren, Kit, Julius, Thranduil, Fern, possibly others WHAT: Various starters for the month WHEN: Throughout the month WHERE: All over Kirkwall NOTES: Wanna plot something with Anders? Poke me on plurk!
Any time he loses a friend, or thinks he's lost a friend, Anders gets insecure all over again. Everyone leaves in the end. He figures it's only a matter of time before he's down to just Nate, but instead of withdrawing, Anders tends to hover a bit more around other people who aren't done with him yet.
Never mind how it might make people want to be done with him all the more.
He's sought out Teren for now, mostly with the idea that he could check up on her and see how the potion he'd made was working. Anders knocks on her door and hopes the reasoning is enough.
Teren isn't in her room, but she's coming down the hall when she spots Anders in front of it, a new batch of leggings for mending under one arm. "No news today, boyo," she says, wryly but with a well-defined tinge of Don't You Even Try Me. When she reaches the door, she nudges Anders aside to unlock it, apparently somewhat more at ease than the last time he saw her. Perhaps even.... upbeat? Is that possible?
"No news, she says, looking in a better mood than usual?" he asks, and then regrets it a moment later. If she got laid with Wren, he doesn't want to know. But maybe there's something else going on. Maybe Bootsy headbutted her adorable earlier or something. It's not likely, but it's possible, and he'd really like to focus on someone other than him riht now.
"She sleeps occasionally these days," Teren brusquely replies, with the most momentary of glances to Anders; if one squints, it almost looks grateful. "What do you want?" The question isn't any less friendly than usual, not that it's moreso either. Just, y'know, no need for beating around the bush.
"That's actually what I was coming to check on, if it was helping." And now he's out of clear excuses to linger and it's time to get creative if he wants to hang around.
"Could you use... anything?" That was not as creative as it could have been, but at least he's not outright saying that he wants company.
Darktown is always a little restless. It feels a little more restless this last week, but Anders isn't sure if that's real or he's projecting. It could even be a combo of both. Either way, he's on high alert when he hears the scuffle of feet behind him.
But he's not exactly ready for quite how many people there are and his heart drops into his stomach.
"I've no quarrel with you," he says, searching their faces and recognizing a couple that he's healed in the mix. They're not meeting his eyes. He may have made a serious mistake today.
This is the third time this week that Kit has found his friendly neighbourhood vagrant asleep on the floor of his shack halfway between Lowtown and Darktown, and subsequently the third time this week he's had to escort the bleary-eyed drunk back down to his neck of the woods... which is, of course, in Darktown. He's saying in a friendly, conversational tone of voice, "All right, Chuck, here we are," again, "mind your head going under the doorframe--" when he catches a glimpse of a curious crowd maybe a block or so down the road. He pauses, nursing his cigarette in silence--then his eyes sharpen in alarm when he spots Anders, defensive and alone, in the middle of the mob.
...shit.
He jogs purposefully towards the group, ducking this way and that to avoid folks going about their drudgery-like business (for what other kind of business is there in Darktown), and only calls out, "Hey there--" once he's within shouting range of the gathering. He's armed, visibly so, but makes no move to unsheathe his axes just yet.
Thank the Maker. They're still outnumbered, but just having backup makes Anders feel a thousand times better. He's also seen how members of the Legion of the Dead fight before. Anders takes a step back in the direction of where Kit's voice is coming from and takes a breath.
"Oh, here's my friend." His voice is forced casualness, as if he's not terrified, as if there's not a slight chance that Kit might want to actually be on the other side of matters. The odds are more for Anders than against, there, but there's always that risk.
"I should get back to healing. That's what I've been doing down here. Healing." A couple of people are looking past him and at the Dwarf now, which means they might be considering leaving. He can hope.
Kit slows to a purposeful walk until he's cut through the outskirts of the mob, and comes to stand next to Anders. He shoots him a wary glance, then looks back at the rest of the gathered faces.
"You all ought to go on home," he warns them, his voice steady, uncharacteristically cold.
Two or three of them seem affected by the warning, and after exchanging uneasy glances, they back down from the confrontation and turn to make themselves scarce. There's no guarantee they won't come back at a later date, but for now, Kit counts this as a minor victory. The others don't look put off; if anything, losing a few allies makes them dig their heels into the conflict.
"Hope you're ready to fight," Kit mutters to Anders under his breath.
"I am now," he mutters back. Taking them on alone with no witnesses could have been a death sentence. Just a hint of a possibility of him going rogue and killing people in Darktown would undermine so much that he'd worked for, along with how much protection the Wardens could offer him.
"You should go, Dwarf," says one of the group, "we don't have a quarrel with you."
There was more muttering from the crowd, and Anders took the opportunity to toss barriers around himself and Kit before pulling his staff off his back. There's a yell from the group and then the tension snaps as three of the small gathering charge forward with knives.
Anders catches the first one under their arm with his staff, shattering their elbow, and then he casts ice on the ground in front of the second so they slip. He's limiting himself, not using magic to actually harm, because otherwise this is going to go so much worse.
This isn't the first time he's been to the alienage in recent weeks, trying to find out the whereabouts of one of his patients. This also isn't the first time he's failed, and he's getting more and more frustrated and worried.
A little elf girl, another one of his patients, runs up and tugs on his sleeve. Anders kneels and listens to her chatter excitedly about a very tall elf. She goes on for a while and he lets her, until she explains that her mother sent her because the tall elf was asking questions along the same lines as Anders, and then he's hastily getting back to his feet and letting her lead him by the hand over.
"Excuse me." He knows the elf a little, they've spoken before, but he's not that familiar with him. "Thranduil? I'm Anders. A little bird suggested you might be trying to find some missing elves as well?"
It has taken them weeks to get used to his presence. He does not fault them- their caution is well-suited to the current state of affairs, and he can be... alarming. But time and routine have calmed the Alienage residents, if not convinced them of his harmlessness.
The elflings are his unabashed favorites. With so few of them in Skyhold and none to speak of in the Ashara clan, he has not had the chance to see them. That there are fewer- that their parents watch them so closely- that does not escape him.
The little girl walks a blonde Man over. Thranduil has no trouble recalling his name, and stands to meet him.
"Is this your little bird?" he says to her, then to him: "You are correct."
The girl giggles and 'hides' behind Anders, getting a warm smile from Anders in the process. "Thank you," he tells her with a gentle hand-squeeze, before he turns his attention back to Thranduil.
"She is, yes. I've known her and her mother for quite some time." He'd helped deliver her, years back, when she'd decided to arrive in the middle of shopping in Lowtown with no time for her mother to get back to the alienage. His expression goes serious.
"Though it's other former patients that have brought me here. One of them has a chronic condition and we've a regular appointment. He's not missed a one except now he's missed three in a row, and he's not the only one. Do you, have you found anything?"
Thranduil weighs his need for aid against Anders' reputation and his own disinclination towards dragging Men into the matters of elves. Anders is unforturnate in that his reputation precedes him, but lucky in finding Thranduil in need of aid.
He kneels, and waits until the little girl peeks out from behind Anders' legs to murmur to her.
"You should go find your mother, little one. I imagine she's worried."
He waits until he sees her unite with a much larger elf, and then he rises. With a motion for Anders to follow, he sets off for the entrance of the Alienage, matching his steps to Anders' stride.
"How apparent was his condition? Would you have known him to be ill by looking at him?"
Anders follows quickly, hesitating for a few moments at the questions. The elf had been his patient and he hates giving out information about his patients, especially when they're elves or mages. There's no telling what might be used against them. But this is another elf, albeit a Rifter one, and there's a chance the info might help.
"No. He'd a bleeding condition - when he started bleeding it wouldn't stop naturally - but he was careful and kept up his health in other ways. I helped him do so. And the other missing ones..." Anders trails off and mentally goes through them. "None of them looked particularly ill. Why? What are you thinking?"
It's not the most interesting work, but minding the herb garden has been, thus far, the only task that Fern feels adequately prepared to tackle since arriving in Kirkwall. She's got a real knack for it, too; she's added some comfrey to the compost heap to help enrich the soil; harvested both the mint and the elfroot, which are both a bit prone to overgrowth if left untended even for a handful of days; planted parsley seeds after soaking them overnight, which ought to help them sprout faster, etc. Littered about the place are small glyphs emitting gentle warmth, to ward off the chill of the encroaching autumn. Perhaps if she can keep the first frost from taking them, she'll be able to dry more herbs before the cold sets in.
...it's such boring work, not at all like what she'd been hoping for when she arrived here. Scowling, she stuffs her spade back into the soil and keeps working.
"I'm sure they did nothing to deserve that," Anders says, a little amused at the scowl on the woman's face. He's in his Warden robes, blue and silver, with his staff strapped to his back and his cat trotting along beside him.
"Unless it's the weeds you're directing your ire at, because I can agree with that."
Despite the teasing, there's a little tentativeness to the meeting. He never knows how meeting someone new is going to go, though generally the elves, dwarves, qunari, and Dalish aren't as angry about matters as humans are.
Fern glances over her shoulder when she hears someone speak to her--and it's definitely Anders' Warden robes that snag her attention, moreso than anything else. She can even forgive him for being a dirty shem, sporting those colours. (That, and his cat is quite adorable.)
She dusts off her hands and gets quickly to her feet, wobbling a little on the uneven soil. She's quick to straighten up; best to make a good impression. "It's just a bit of busy work," she assures him hastily, "until I can get back down to the training grounds." She tries to pause, tries to ask the question casually, but it doesn't quite come out that way: "You're with the Wardens, aren't you?"
Purrelden always knows where there's a possible victim cat-admirer, and she trots up to start threading between the elf's legs despite the wobbliness. Anders, not for the first time, wonders at how quick she is to put herself at risk for the chance of affection, and dismisses it yet again.
"I am, yes." There's something behind the question, but it doesn't sound like anger or suspicion which means Anders is relaxed enough. "Is there something keeping you from the training grounds? If it's an injury, I may be able to assist. If it's bullies, I also may be able to assist."
The cat is far too charming for Fern to resist, and so she reaches down to give her an affectionate stroke. Purrelden is at no risk in her company.
"Is there something keeping you from the training grounds? If it's an injury, I might be able to assist. If it's bullies, I also may be able to assist."
"I don't need any help," she mutters, both defensive and a bit embarrassed to think that the treatment she's received from the other Circle mages her age might have been witnessed by others--and by a Grey Warden too, of course, that's just her luck. She frowns and straightens her back, folding her arms over her chest. "And what would I do down at the training grounds anyway? I'm a mage, and it's just a bunch of Templars down there most of the time anyway."
This is a rare event, getting a break from healing at an actual meal time with no one running in, panicked and injured. As time goes by there are fewer glares in the mess hall too, so Anders is actually in a fairly good mood as he moves around the outskirts to his usual table. It's still off to the side, he's not about to be trying for the class clown attention outside of the Wardens, but it's with other people and it's a nice feeling.
The fact that someone else is already at the table is a bonus. They must not mind him, he figures, and then he catches the man's face and stops, tray halfway down. It can't be, but it is. It most definitely is.
"Ah. Julius. I..." Words. He has none, and this may be one of the first times Julius has seen Anders speechless.
Julius looks up, and he's startled, if not only that. He looks a bit thinner, certainly less perfectly put together than he was as a rule back at Kinloch Hold. He's cleaned up since arriving, but life has still left a mark on him in recent years, if maybe in a less dramatic way than it had on his former classmate. And if his expression at seeing Anders isn't unmixed joy, well -- surely that was not shocking under the circumstances.
For all that, he stands up, clearly in greeting rather than to flee. "Anders. I ... hadn't heard for sure whether you were alive." And the way he says it, for all things are complicated, Anders being alive is preferable to the alternative. "I only just arrived."
He's bracing for anger and ready to make a hasty retreat when Julius stands. There are a few things they've never really seen eye to eye on, and it's enough to possibly mean they'll clash here. But then Julius' voice isn't hostile. Anders blinks at him and starts to relax a little.
"I..." He trails off and nods, setting his food down. "The Wardens accepted me back.I'd not ask them why. I'm not sure even they know the answer to that." The statement is delivered with a slight, tentative smile. Julius doesn't want him dead. That's a nice thing to know. "I wasn't sure if you were alive or not either. I've not exactly been in touch with Kinloch Hold since my last departure. But you are. I'm glad."
There's a short beat. "Do you mind if I eat with you?"
The split-second hesitation is very Julius, for all he wouldn't thank Anders for saying so; an unkind observer might suggest Julius has never answered a question without pausing in his life, a kinder one that his temperament is deliberate.
Either way, it's less than a full second before he says "Of course." He gestures, and resumes his own seat. "I'm going to be honest, I'm not sure I knew you'd left the Wardens as such. Or that anyone did. Then again, it's not like people were eager to pass us detailed news back when I was still at the tower."
Say, whatever became of that guy who kept escaping until it took? absolutely no one was asking in Templar earshot.
"Anyway, the Wardens probably never had someone ask to come back before, maybe you took them off guard?"
While his chuckle is a little weak, it's at least there. Anders spends so much time on the defensive it takes him off guard when he doesn't have to be. He takes a seat and then has to smile wryly at understandable gap in Julius' awareness of Anders' life.
"Did you notice Rylock and Rolan leaving with a bunch of their friends, the Templars I'd really angered? They came after me, even though I'd been conscripted as a Warden. A few of them even went so far as to join the Wardens, and then after I'd helped the Hero of Fereldan," yes, there might be a little bit of old, smug, gossipy pride there, "and he'd gone off to adventure on his own, they saw their chance."
The smugness is gone just as quickly as it showed up. "They ambushed me and I couldn't see the Wardens being happy with someone who had just killed several other Wardens, no matter it being in self-defense. So I took off to find Karl." Which had gone even worse. He hadn't exactly been lucky with, well, anything.
"That's a long story short, because I'm assuming you don't want all of the details." He picks up his fork and looks over at Julius before a tiny bit of amusement comes back to his face. "After all, there's not much in there that's about being surrounded by boring walls."
For Teren
Never mind how it might make people want to be done with him all the more.
He's sought out Teren for now, mostly with the idea that he could check up on her and see how the potion he'd made was working. Anders knocks on her door and hopes the reasoning is enough.
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The question isn't any less friendly than usual, not that it's moreso either. Just, y'know, no need for beating around the bush.
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"Could you use... anything?" That was not as creative as it could have been, but at least he's not outright saying that he wants company.
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For Kit
But he's not exactly ready for quite how many people there are and his heart drops into his stomach.
"I've no quarrel with you," he says, searching their faces and recognizing a couple that he's healed in the mix. They're not meeting his eyes. He may have made a serious mistake today.
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...shit.
He jogs purposefully towards the group, ducking this way and that to avoid folks going about their drudgery-like business (for what other kind of business is there in Darktown), and only calls out, "Hey there--" once he's within shouting range of the gathering. He's armed, visibly so, but makes no move to unsheathe his axes just yet.
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"Oh, here's my friend." His voice is forced casualness, as if he's not terrified, as if there's not a slight chance that Kit might want to actually be on the other side of matters. The odds are more for Anders than against, there, but there's always that risk.
"I should get back to healing. That's what I've been doing down here. Healing." A couple of people are looking past him and at the Dwarf now, which means they might be considering leaving. He can hope.
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"You all ought to go on home," he warns them, his voice steady, uncharacteristically cold.
Two or three of them seem affected by the warning, and after exchanging uneasy glances, they back down from the confrontation and turn to make themselves scarce. There's no guarantee they won't come back at a later date, but for now, Kit counts this as a minor victory. The others don't look put off; if anything, losing a few allies makes them dig their heels into the conflict.
"Hope you're ready to fight," Kit mutters to Anders under his breath.
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"You should go, Dwarf," says one of the group, "we don't have a quarrel with you."
There was more muttering from the crowd, and Anders took the opportunity to toss barriers around himself and Kit before pulling his staff off his back. There's a yell from the group and then the tension snaps as three of the small gathering charge forward with knives.
Anders catches the first one under their arm with his staff, shattering their elbow, and then he casts ice on the ground in front of the second so they slip. He's limiting himself, not using magic to actually harm, because otherwise this is going to go so much worse.
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For Thranduil
A little elf girl, another one of his patients, runs up and tugs on his sleeve. Anders kneels and listens to her chatter excitedly about a very tall elf. She goes on for a while and he lets her, until she explains that her mother sent her because the tall elf was asking questions along the same lines as Anders, and then he's hastily getting back to his feet and letting her lead him by the hand over.
"Excuse me." He knows the elf a little, they've spoken before, but he's not that familiar with him. "Thranduil? I'm Anders. A little bird suggested you might be trying to find some missing elves as well?"
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The elflings are his unabashed favorites. With so few of them in Skyhold and none to speak of in the Ashara clan, he has not had the chance to see them. That there are fewer- that their parents watch them so closely- that does not escape him.
The little girl walks a blonde Man over. Thranduil has no trouble recalling his name, and stands to meet him.
"Is this your little bird?" he says to her, then to him: "You are correct."
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"She is, yes. I've known her and her mother for quite some time." He'd helped deliver her, years back, when she'd decided to arrive in the middle of shopping in Lowtown with no time for her mother to get back to the alienage. His expression goes serious.
"Though it's other former patients that have brought me here. One of them has a chronic condition and we've a regular appointment. He's not missed a one except now he's missed three in a row, and he's not the only one. Do you, have you found anything?"
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He kneels, and waits until the little girl peeks out from behind Anders' legs to murmur to her.
"You should go find your mother, little one. I imagine she's worried."
He waits until he sees her unite with a much larger elf, and then he rises. With a motion for Anders to follow, he sets off for the entrance of the Alienage, matching his steps to Anders' stride.
"How apparent was his condition? Would you have known him to be ill by looking at him?"
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"No. He'd a bleeding condition - when he started bleeding it wouldn't stop naturally - but he was careful and kept up his health in other ways. I helped him do so. And the other missing ones..." Anders trails off and mentally goes through them. "None of them looked particularly ill. Why? What are you thinking?"
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WILDCARD, go hang out in the herb garden man
...it's such boring work, not at all like what she'd been hoping for when she arrived here. Scowling, she stuffs her spade back into the soil and keeps working.
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"Unless it's the weeds you're directing your ire at, because I can agree with that."
Despite the teasing, there's a little tentativeness to the meeting. He never knows how meeting someone new is going to go, though generally the elves, dwarves, qunari, and Dalish aren't as angry about matters as humans are.
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She dusts off her hands and gets quickly to her feet, wobbling a little on the uneven soil. She's quick to straighten up; best to make a good impression. "It's just a bit of busy work," she assures him hastily, "until I can get back down to the training grounds." She tries to pause, tries to ask the question casually, but it doesn't quite come out that way: "You're with the Wardens, aren't you?"
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victimcat-admirer, and she trots up to start threading between the elf's legs despite the wobbliness. Anders, not for the first time, wonders at how quick she is to put herself at risk for the chance of affection, and dismisses it yet again."I am, yes." There's something behind the question, but it doesn't sound like anger or suspicion which means Anders is relaxed enough. "Is there something keeping you from the training grounds? If it's an injury, I may be able to assist. If it's bullies, I also may be able to assist."
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"Is there something keeping you from the training grounds? If it's an injury, I might be able to assist. If it's bullies, I also may be able to assist."
"I don't need any help," she mutters, both defensive and a bit embarrassed to think that the treatment she's received from the other Circle mages her age might have been witnessed by others--and by a Grey Warden too, of course, that's just her luck. She frowns and straightens her back, folding her arms over her chest. "And what would I do down at the training grounds anyway? I'm a mage, and it's just a bunch of Templars down there most of the time anyway."
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For Julius
The fact that someone else is already at the table is a bonus. They must not mind him, he figures, and then he catches the man's face and stops, tray halfway down. It can't be, but it is. It most definitely is.
"Ah. Julius. I..." Words. He has none, and this may be one of the first times Julius has seen Anders speechless.
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For all that, he stands up, clearly in greeting rather than to flee. "Anders. I ... hadn't heard for sure whether you were alive." And the way he says it, for all things are complicated, Anders being alive is preferable to the alternative. "I only just arrived."
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"I..." He trails off and nods, setting his food down. "The Wardens accepted me back.I'd not ask them why. I'm not sure even they know the answer to that." The statement is delivered with a slight, tentative smile. Julius doesn't want him dead. That's a nice thing to know. "I wasn't sure if you were alive or not either. I've not exactly been in touch with Kinloch Hold since my last departure. But you are. I'm glad."
There's a short beat. "Do you mind if I eat with you?"
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Either way, it's less than a full second before he says "Of course." He gestures, and resumes his own seat. "I'm going to be honest, I'm not sure I knew you'd left the Wardens as such. Or that anyone did. Then again, it's not like people were eager to pass us detailed news back when I was still at the tower."
Say, whatever became of that guy who kept escaping until it took? absolutely no one was asking in Templar earshot.
"Anyway, the Wardens probably never had someone ask to come back before, maybe you took them off guard?"
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"Did you notice Rylock and Rolan leaving with a bunch of their friends, the Templars I'd really angered? They came after me, even though I'd been conscripted as a Warden. A few of them even went so far as to join the Wardens, and then after I'd helped the Hero of Fereldan," yes, there might be a little bit of old, smug, gossipy pride there, "and he'd gone off to adventure on his own, they saw their chance."
The smugness is gone just as quickly as it showed up. "They ambushed me and I couldn't see the Wardens being happy with someone who had just killed several other Wardens, no matter it being in self-defense. So I took off to find Karl." Which had gone even worse. He hadn't exactly been lucky with, well, anything.
"That's a long story short, because I'm assuming you don't want all of the details." He picks up his fork and looks over at Julius before a tiny bit of amusement comes back to his face. "After all, there's not much in there that's about being surrounded by boring walls."
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