[Semi-open] A field trip

[justice_is_blond]

WHO: Anders, Petra, Myr, Inessa, Pel, semi-open
WHAT: Anders leads a group to pick flowers so he can run some tests as he continues on his Quest for the Cure
WHEN: Todayish
WHERE: Grassy fields outside Kirkwall
NOTES: Open to anyone who will interact with Anders.

There are a lot of long shots when it comes to what might help fight the Blight, but because basically anything is a long shot at the end of the day, Anders is willing to try weird things. This includes gathering flowers, sketching them so that he doesn't duplicate his efforts, and testing them in various ways. A flower cured a dog, supposedly. Maybe there's a plant that will help.

Comments

[justice_is_blond]

"Of course." There's bitterness in his voice. How stupid had he been to think some stranger would just join him? Even the Resolutionists that work with him want something out of him and it doesn't start with f and end in riendship.

He crosses his arms in front of himself defensively, glad again a moment later that the elf can't see him.

"Did you... Never mind." Opening up to someone and becoming vulnerable when they clearly hated him is no option at all. "Enjoy the freedom you have to choose to come to a flower field."

If this had been anyone else, he might have made a joke about fieldwork. Instead, jokes feel dry in his throat and 'freedom' is a deliberate choice of words. He is not solely responsible for the Circles being broken, but if he's going to bear the brunt of the blame he will point out what it had gained them too.

[faithlikeaseed]

The verbal slap is enough like something Van would say when he means to wound that it robs Myr of breath a moment. His grip on his staff tightens until his knuckles are white; startled, the curious bumblebee takes wing again to rejoin its sisters in foraging.

He'd been trying to be polite, trying to find some way to salvage this conversation he'd been trying to avoid, and--this. This is what he's gotten instead.

"I'd like it much better if I could see it, serah," he says, voice low and soft and oh-so-perfectly controlled. "I'd like it much better knowing my home and family weren't destroyed to purchase that freedom. Thank you," the words are edged, "for what you did to save the mages of Kirkwall, but I thank you also that you don't rub my face in it."

[justice_is_blond]

His voice is level. "Then I'd thank you to not rub my face in how you'd choose basically anyone over me on a day when I'd thought maybe I'd step outside the constant anger and hatred of my daily life. Don't come on something I'm leading with friends to talk down to me as if I don't know anything about Creation magic."

A day trip to get flowers. It should have been simple, but not a single thing that's supposed to be simple ever is for him. Myrobalan is a bundle of condescension and resentment and Anders cannot see a reason to prolong this encounter.

"I take no satisfaction from knowing that freedom cost people. The way things were was also costing people on a regular, daily basis and it could not go on, but I am sorry for your loss, genuinely so. But I doubt that matters a bit to you, so good day, serah."

Normally Anders takes great care to use mage's names. His own was taken from him, and they are people, not things. But in light of feeling like he's been reduced down to a thing on a day when he was supposed to be able to get away from matters, he wants the tiny, petty, private barb of using a title back at Myrobalan.

[faithlikeaseed]

But I didn't know, Myr wants to say. I would've stayed away if I'd known; don't lay this all at my feet.

If this were his cousin, and not Anders, he would say it. He'd leap back into the verbal fray as gladly as he would any physical fight, assail the logical weaknesses of his enemy's position and make a riposte in turn. He hadn't known until it was too late that Anders was here; he'd made a point to keep to himself, to not provoke the fight a part of him so badly wanted.

And when it came looking for him, he demurred, he bridled his tongue, he did his damnedest to keep the peace--and still failed.

Blessed are the peacekeepers, well, perhaps not, right now. But perhaps he's only got himself to blame for that.

So he remains mute in the face of the other mage's even-voiced venom, trying--succeeding--to keep his own wounded gut-deep puzzlement off his face. To keep it out of his voice, when Anders at last makes an end of speaking and he can get a word in edge-wise:

"To you as well, serah."

And no more.