faderift | and you understand black implies white

WHO: Gareth and a bunch of people, and also YOU??
WHAT: Meeting new people and making friends (with varying degrees of success)
WHEN: Now
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: If you'd like your own prompt, just let me know!

[Anders]

When Gareth enters the infirmary, he's visibly nervous. His eyes dart around, take in anyone lying around in the cots, and he relaxes by a hair when he's gotten a good inventory of who's here. The Templars aren't always in uniform, Kostos had said, but if they're in here, they're too busy being sick or injured to worry about him.

"Hello?" For a moment, he thinks about making a joke, Hello, yes, I cut my hand off after all, can I get a baggie for it?, but apparently no one here appreciates his cutting wit. And he doesn't want to piss off the healers, when he needs something from them. "I haven't cut off my hands, for the record."

Close enough.

[Myr + Fern]

Gareth isn't dumb enough to try experimental magic on the actual garden proper, not when so many people have put so much work into it. So he finds a patch of earth that hasn't anything but some grass and weeds, and asks Fern and Myr to meet him there. A few stomps on the ground confirms that it's hard and compacted, like most ground this time of year.

"So, what I was thinking--Stonefist is a spell that gathers a bunch of rocks and sort of...shoots them up through the ground at your target." He demonstrates with his hands as he speaks, expression contemplative. "Usually, you just kind of...shove the rocks back down when you're done with them. But I was thinking, I can probably alter the spell so the rocks just land on the topsoil. That should remove any rocks from the ground, and break up the earth enough for planting."

He glances at the two of them, looking excitedly eager. How long had it been since he'd had a chance to do this? Experiment with magic just for the sheer wonder of it, just to see if it could be done.

[Thranduil]

Ah, the fancy offices, for the fancy people. He remembers these. They're a little less daunting this time around, though he's still wary as he approaches Thranduil's office. The new boss is either a rifter or a Dalish, apparently, and either way, Gareth is as curious as he is cautious. Arriving at the door, he gives the door frame a quick knock, staying outside until invited in.

"Hello--Ah. I'm Gareth, Ser." He bobs his head polite. "I've just joined the research division, and I thought it'd be good to meet you, if you'd like." Look at him, all polite and accommodating. This isn't so hard.

[Open]

Plenty has changed since the last time Gareth was here, and he takes his time trying to get reacquainted with the Gallows. He wanders the library, examining the titles and thumbing through books that look interesting. In the practice yard, he doesn't actually participate, but sits off to the side and studies everyone practicing. He's careful never to stare too long at one person, and has a bag of dried fruit that he digs into whenever anyone bothers to look over at him.

And sometimes, he just hangs out in the courtyard with a book, enjoying the sunlight while it's here.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He takes a breath and nods.

"So there's mixed feelings? Or...?" The Templars in the Gallows had been bragging about how the Rite of Annulment was sent for, it was clear where Meredith was escalating to, and the abuse in the Gallows had been out of hand. All the same, while fewer mages died that night than otherwise would have, plenty still died from his doing.

Whatever Gareth is feeling, though, there's been no yelling or attack. It means Anders is still a little nervous, but he's not actively worried.

"And would you like someone else to see you?" There are many times he wishes he was better at reading people and knowing what they'd prefer.

"I don't care about the Chantry." He gets that out of the way first, and the rest is...difficult. Talking about that entire time period seriously, not just making flippant and morbid jokes, is a struggle. There's a whole clusterfuck of feelings, memories, and pain that he's tugging at. "And I know that it probably would've happened eventually. But--you knew what Meredith would do."

He shifts around, uncomfortable with this entire line of conversation, but he wants to get it out. He wants to say the thoughts that have been jumbled around in that clusterfuck for years, and maybe, voicing them will make those particular ghosts leave him be.

"You--You should've warned us." There, that's the crux of the issue, isn't it? His voice as he speaks is a low hiss, fists clenched--though he maintains a distance from Anders, even now not wanting to appear as a physical threat. "I don't care about the rest. Elthina can rot in the void, and everyone who was in the Gallows knows that Meredith was a Maker-damned maniac. It was only a matter of time before things came to a head. But you should've told us. We could have been ready. Get those who couldn't defend themselves somewhere safe, and prepare to fight."

He looks down. Gareth has a point, but there are just as many reasons why it hadn't happened.

"If..." Anders shakes his head and takes a breath. "Yes. I should have. But I had no means to. The Templars slaughtered my network the week before, everyone I trusted to get in and out of the Gallows, and I'd no way of knowing what mages in there would fight... and which ones would instead run to the Templars in vain hope of protecting themselves."

Also uncertain is whether or not Justice would have allowed him to give warning, but as he'd not tried it's not a point to bring up.

He hadn't known about the network. He knew more mages in the Gallows had died, but at that point, that was just another Tuesday. They weren't told why, and few wanted to ask.

"If you were more worried that the mages would tell, then you prioritized your goal over our lives." Despite his bitter words, his tone doesn't have quite the bite it did before. There's more of a tired resignation--he's not entirely sure what to think, now.

He can mull it over later. For now, he just wants to get to what he was here for in the first place, before he'd been surprised with this whole...thing. "If you still want to help me, I just need some kind of salve or poultice. Something that'll make scars fade." He doesn't elaborate further than that, and at the very least, he's sure that Anders of all people will understand well enough. Maybe not the exact reasons, but. Close enough.

"And lost any opportunity to do anything at all?" The question is mild. "To even give a chance to fight back?"

The goal had been vengeance, yes, but also justice and also a chance. Someone revealing the plan would have spelled absolute disaster for all of the mages in the Gallows, he feels, even the one who told.

As he speaks, he's going through what he has and selecting the two salves. They get held out. "The one on the right is better for newer wounds that may scar over. There'll be a terrible sting if any of the wounds are open. The one on the left helps with older scars. But they've limits. Spirit healing may have less limits depending on the wounds themselves, if you'd prefer."

While Gareth is normally always up for arguing--loudly--this is...different. It's something he needs to think about. He's not happy, and he's not suddenly forgiving, but he's willing to consider this new information, and how it fits into his thoughts. And he also just sort of wants that part of the conversation to be over.

Salves are much easier to deal with, and Gareth inspects the two that Anders presents to him. The one for old wounds is accepted without pause, but he lingers over the one for newer wounds. He shouldn't be getting any, he's been trying so hard to avoid it--but things always come up, don't they? It would be naive to think that he'll be able to go without using it ever again, not when he's gotten himself attached to another army with another war.

So he accepts the other one as well, but shakes his head when talk of a spirit healer comes up. Even if the spirit healer did manage to effect him (and that's up for debate), they'd have to see his arms. And his scars. "Thank you for the salves, but I don't need to see a spirit healer. This'll be just fine." He hesitates--is he allowed to just take them? Does he have to pay for them? Are they put on some tab that gets deducted from his pay? But Anders hadn't mentioned a price, so. He was probably safe.

"...Thank you for helping. Even after I yelled at you." He's not going to apologize for yelling, mind, but he does appreciate that it didn't get him booted out the door.

He nods as the offer for spirit healing is turned down even as the salve for newer wounds is taken. From a non-mage it wouldn't be entirely new or surprising, but from a mage? It brings questions to his mind that he can ponder over later.

"You didn't swing and you didn't call names. You're better than a good three-fourths of this place." And he can't exactly be choosy, he reflects as he glances away. Alistair had been rather clear when reminding him of that. It still stings sometimes. "If something does happen and you change your mind about being healed, I'm easy to reach."

There's a hesitation in the air, like Gareth might want to be gone or might have questions he doesn't want to ask, so Anders leaves the verbal opening to allow the other mage to go if he'd like. "Or if anything else comes up."

"Yeah, well. What'd you expect from a place with this many Templars and Loyalists?" Not that Gareth can really talk, because here he is, also in a place with this many Templars and Loyalists. Though, at least he can pretend to be someone they don't want to kill off.

And then...he waits, but Anders doesn't indicate that he needs to do anything else. The salves are just...his. Nice. He relaxes a little at that, and gives another nod.

"I'll let you know. Thank you." And with that, he turns and heads off. He's got things to think over.

and you understand black implies white

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