[OPEN] I know dark clouds gonna gather 'round me

[mactears]

WHO: Loghain + OPEN
WHAT: A catch-all for Loghain for November.
WHEN: Throughout the month of November.
WHERE: The Gallows, Kirkwall, Sundermount.
NOTES: None yet, will update as needed. Starters for specific characters under the cut.

I. SUNDERMOUNT (OPEN + MORRIGAN)


The woodsman who had placed the cabin up for let likely hadn't expected for Loghain Mac Tir, the Traitor Teyrn of Gwaren and father to the Queen of Ferelden, to become his tenant, but there it was. He paid well for this private retreat in the wilderness, and with a promise to make some modest improvements to the property, one can scarcely suggest that the land owner himself is coming away at a loss.

There's a single-paddock stable attached to the cabin, which is where Sooty now rests eating from her feed back, while Loghain chops wood for the wood stove. Lying on the ground some distance away from him is a peculiar-looking dog--clearly part mabari, but with the unmistakeable ruff of a wolf around the face and hackles, too. Every so often, she rises up from where she rests in the grass observing Loghain's work with intelligent topaz eyes, and trots off into the undergrowth, only to come back sometime later to find another place in the sun to rest.

When he isn't in Kirkwall, this is where he spends a great deal of his time:  fixing up this run-down cabin, and trying to befriend the strange dog that now hangs out around the property.



II.  WARDEN OFFICES (ALISTAIR + NATHANIEL)


Alistair and Nathaniel Howe wish to speak with him.

In Loghain's experience, this can go one of two ways:  he's being ousted, or he's being murdered.

Nevertheless, at the appointed time he arrives outside the Wardens' office and knocks once to announce himself. "It's Loghain," he calls, then rests his hand on the latch without pressing it yet.



III. THE LIBRARY AT NIGHT (TEREN)


While much of the drama surrounding his initial appearance at the Gallows has died down during the intervening months, the easiest time for Loghain to conduct any research in the library is still after dark, when the rest of the researchers and students have long gone to bed and there's no one but himself present to peruse the shelves.

He'd laid out his old notes from Maric's initial disappearance across his chosen work station, along with maps of northern Tevinter and some other assorted reference books, and paces behind his desk, as is his wont, while considering them. The wolf-dog that rests beneath the table dozes, but every so often opens her lambent gold eyes, ears pricked and alert.



VI.  DARKTOWN (ANDERS)


It is some time after the company's return from Blackmarsh that Loghain makes his way into the streets of Darktown, dressed in a set of unremarkable brown and grey work clothes so that he won't be so easily noticed or identified. The dog isn't with him; she's well enough--and independent enough--to be left to her own devices on Sundermount during the daylight hours.

Reaching the clinic, he steps over the threshold and searches out Anders in a glance. Not wanting to disturb him from his patients, however, he hands back, patient.



V.  LOWTOWN (CARVER + OPEN)


Loghain isn't much of a drinker, but the only place to do that around Kirkwall appears to be the Hanged Man--which is where he is now, seated alone at a seat in front of the hearthfire, gaze alternating between resting on the fire and examining the occupants of the tavern. A few people have, over the past several months, identified him, and even given him some trouble, but generally not at this hour early in the evening, before the city has time to get drunk enough to make its worst decisions.

So here he sits with a tankard of ale, unwinding, and making himself available for conversation to whomever happens to come along.

Comments

[mactears]

Whether Carver recognizes him or not, Loghain recognizes him immediately--not merely as a Warden, but a face from the fields of Ostagar. (Age and wisdom may have taken the edge off some of his fiery temper, but his head for names and faces remains sharp as ever.)

"So," the young man begins, "about how many drinks and or punches have been thrown at you since you showed up?"

Wryly, "None. I suspect most believe I'm too old to be the Traitor Teyrn."

Loghain takes a drink from his tankard and gestures to one of the empty seats at the modest table; an invitation to sit, should Carver choose to accept it.

[unshadowing]

That Loghain's credit, that manages to get a snort out of Carver. "Too old? You're not exactly young looking. They must think you an ancient crone or something." But it wouldn't be Carver if there wasn't some embedded insult. Then again, he's not really trying to be nice here, or even just less insulting.

The invitation's surprising, to say the least, but perhaps even more surprising, Carver takes it. Sure, he could be a brat and keep standing, but he's not the young man he was when Loghain last saw him in Ostagar. He takes a studied drink from his glass before setting it down.

"Do you know who I am?" Not usually a question he asks these days, but here it's worth asking.

[mactears]

He bears the insults without comment, drinking from his mug, and is silent until Carver joins him at the table. That question isn’t entirely unexpected; many survivors from the killing fields had come to him with that question, over the years. Loghain’s memory isn’t infallible, but it takes very little at all to help jog the details back into clarity where the sands of time might have worn away the edges a bit.

Still, he remembers Carver; a soldier in his army, and now a Warden, too.

“Carver Hawke,” he replies, and looks more as though he’s speaking into the contents of his drink. “Third company,” he goes on, “under Captain Varel. Yes, I remember you.”

[unshadowing]

Carver had expected to counter with asking if he knew him because of his sister, or because he actually remembered him as the boy he had been back then, desperate to protect his family and make his way in the world. However, Loghain's additional detail answers that would-be question before it even forms. Carver's brow lifts a little. "You have a long memory." And a damn detailed one. It's something to be admired, he supposes, if a bit reluctantly.

[mactears]

He looks up from his drink to meet Carver's eyes briefly, then brings up the tankard to take a drink. When he sets it down afterwards, it's far closer to being empty than it was before. "I've done plenty that bears remembering," is his response, and one gets the impression that he doesn't mean to gild his past actions or recline on any laurels. There's too much heaviness in his voice for that.

He studies Carver beneath his heavy brows, considering him. "What can I do for you, Warden?" he asks at last, gesturing with a hand. "I expect you didn't come here to make small-talk with me."

[unshadowing]

Now that's a good question. What is he doing here? To break the ice, he supposes, and get anything unpleasant out of the way now, while they have the luxury of not being in a life or death situation. But maybe it's more than that, too.

"Sort of the point, in a way." Carver shrugs; how to explain this? "Wardens take in anyone that they consider good enough to join their ranks. Can't blame them for taking you in, even if the part of me from back then rankles at the thought. I could be angry about it, but there's no point." No point in dwelling in the past and all that. What's done is done. "I figured if I got the urge to yell or punch you or do something stupid, best to see if it happens now, rather than on a mission somewhere in the Deep Roads or wherever we wind up in the future."

[mactears]

This seems to be a common theme amongst the Wardens' recent confrontations with him: get the bloody mess out in the open between them, see what happens, and struggle to work past it now, before they're put in a position where their lives are in each other's hands. Loghain can't find fault with the logic, and admires the young man's candour; he'd rather face an ugly truth than pretty up a lie and take it at face value. (This is, perhaps, why he will never excel at the Great Game of Orlais.)

"If you worry that I won't have your back in the Deep Roads, I can offer you my word that I will." A slight shrug, and he twists the mug of ale between his hands. "I expect that my word will go only so far in your estimation, but I will do what I can not to disappoint you."

[unshadowing]

"You already hit an all time low in disappointment. I suppose if we want to be all optimistic about it, it means you can only go up from here." Which, honestly, is the truth. Short of going around and murdering everyone in sight or something equally as horrific, there's not much Loghain can do to worsen Carver's opinion of him.

At least they'd both rather gauge their eyes out and toss themselves out a window than play the Game?

"Not going to have much of a choice than trusting your word down there, so we'll find out, should it ever come to be."