[Semi-closed] A tisket, a tasket

[justice_is_blond]

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!

[Cheerful dooting.]

Comments

[justice_is_blond]

"If he's raising a toast to holding grudges and continuing to hate with Korrin, touching her glass with his, he's toasting to hatred of me."

He finishes pinning these pants and glares at them. "It doesn't take a genius to know who she's ranting about in her idiotic way time and again. Hates me, but oh, going into the Gallows? Did you know what they did there? How dare anyone ask her to venture there? As if it wouldn't be worse without what I'd done. She's entirely brawn and no brains at all."

It is, apparently, the hour for ranting.

[doneisdone]

Teren knits her brow, canting her head slightly, like a bird trying to get the lay of something in front of her. "...he hates Loghain," she says, uncertain as to maybe whether Anders missed this detail. "Never mind Korrin, she doesn't strike me as the forgiving sort. But she can't hurt you as long as you both work under the Inquisition."

[justice_is_blond]

His shoulders slump a little. He's heard so many times that he can't be hurt, when he worked for the Wardens before, when rejoining the Wardens had been settled, and it's never true even with physical attacks.

"Alistair hates Loghain," Anders confirms. "And went drinking with Korrin to hatred and grudges. Which means she's drinking to his hatred of Loghain, and he's drinking to her hatred of me. Can you not see how that would hurt?"

[doneisdone]

To a degree, Teren understands. But there are some leaps she can't make, and she finds herself staring at Anders with mild incredulity.
"Maker's breath, Anders, that's insane." She goes back to her sewing. "Mind you, sanity isn't requisite, but sweet void, where do you find time to make connections like that?" Even smirking a little, Teren glances back up at him. "Alistair is drinking to his hatred of Loghain, Korrin is drinking to her hatred of you, they're mates sharing a drink. Alistair isn't even thinking about you. He's probably not even thinking about her. He's thinking about his ale." Stitch, stitch. "You'll go mad assuming every awful thing is about you. Some of them will be, you're not an idiot. But sometimes people just say things."

A busy pause, after which she adds: "are you afraid they don't like you, or that they'll kill you?" Her expression is suddenly serious. It's clear one option takes significant precedence over the other.

[justice_is_blond]

"When has it ever been unconnected?" The Templars haven't liked him and they've tried to kill him, and they're not the only ones who dislike him anymore.

"When has the one not followed the other?" He can still hear Sebastian's yelling about how he would attack the people of Kirkwall if Anders lived, and every day there's mutterings about how he should be dead. "He was inciting people to remember their hatred and hold to it, and that's what leads to things going worse. Attackers prefer a crowd, prefer a mob, even. I don't think Alistair's going to attack me. But the Warden leadership has actually gone and opened a door for an attempt on my life before."

Nate would do everything to protect him, but that requires Nate to know that an attempt's coming.

[doneisdone]

"You're being dramatic," Teren sighs, "Alistair is who we're talking about. It was one thing he said in a conversation that wasn't about you. And since we've established he's not going to attack you, the point is moot."
She sets down her sewing to look at Anders, eyes slightly narrowed. "You've your reasons to be paranoid. But you need to learn to determine when something is about you, and when it isn't." After a moment's hesitation more, she shakes her head and starts sewing again. "Assuming everything's the former is self-absorbed, not to mention a nuisance if people can't talk about a thing that's aggravating them without you thinking it's you and going on the defensive." Stitch, stitch. "I don't know what else to tell you."