faderift | [Open] A cat a day brings the healer to play

WHO: Anders and peoples
WHAT: Hanging out and doing things around Kirkwall now that they're back
WHEN: Through the month
WHERE: Various locations around Kirkwall
NOTES: Nothing comes to mind atm.

1. The Cat Prompt (open)

He has a new cat. It's rather obvious by the way there's an orange bundle of fluff hanging on to his shoulder for dear life now, from time to time, supported often by his hand. Most of the time he has one (or both) cats with him he's in the herb garden, carefully picking and trimming and weeding as Purrelden sprawls in the sun and Lord Pawdric alternates between napping in Anders' belt pouch, sitting on his shoulder, or stumbling around on tiny kitten legs after caterpillars.

A great deal of Anders' attention is on his cats. He likes letting them roam, but he doesn't want them to be hurt and he's pretty aware of his own... popularity, which means anyone coming into the garden is looked at and nodded to whether he likes them or not. If he likes them, it's friendly with an added small smile. If he doesn't, or if he doesn't know them, it's a warning. He sees them.

2. There's Always An Infirmary Prompt (open)

The doors open behind him but he can't turn just yet - he's at the tricky stage of making this potion.

"Hang on, I'll be right with you. Unless you're dying. Are you dying?" Because he can risk burning a hole in the desk if someone's dying.

3. Of Course He's At The Hanged Man Prompt. (open)

Bluffing is not something Anders is good at. It's not that he hasn't spent time trying - he tried all the time back in the Circle and the Templars just weren't having it - but somehow he keeps failing. All the same, he's sitting at a table, trying to work on his card game abilities.

He doesn't bother looking up when someone approaches, which isn't the best technique when it comes to self-preservation, but he's not great at that either.

"Right. I'm not betting because I'm shit at card games, but I'd like to get better. Sit down if you're in."

4. Ye Olde Schoole Ande Clinice Prompte (Opene)

He's in the middle of a small flock of kids and teenagers, leading them back inside the Clinic as they excitedly describe how awesome the little orb they just made out of spirit was, and how they'd be juggling in a day, just wait and see, how theirs was the biggest, theirs was the coolest, they were the fastest, and so on. Anders looks happy.

It continues even as the babbling horde descends on one of his workers to get their lunch and he turns to see if anyone's here for him specifically.

5. The Obligatory Sappy Prompt (closed to Nate)

There's a lot of mail from the office, and surprisingly, not all of the paperwork is for Nate. While he's certain he'll get tired of it in time, there's still a nice novelty to having some to do. Responsibility feels... nice, really. Even when he's always had a lot of it on his shoulders.

Anders leaves behind a few cookies for Alistair and Loghain when they go into the Warden office before bringing all the stuff Nate and he need to see to home. The pillows get stacked to support Nate, the pens and ink and parchment and cats and dog get gathered, and then the parchment gets re-gathered because Lady gets excited and Pawdric gets startled.

"Do you need me to grab anything else? Before I get settled next to you?"

6. Cats' Day Out Prompt (Closed to Kirk)

He has two leashes, and two cats... and a cat on each shoulder rather than them on the ground. Pawdric, at least, has an excuse. He's tiny with short little legs. Purrelden? She's spoiled and lazy. And he's not fighting her about it, because he loves her and the spoiling is his own fault.

Though he's a little less than impressed by the claws in his shoulder from her when he reaches up to knock at Kirk's door.

"You're the one that had to be there," he reminds her.

7. I See You Creepin' Prompt (closed to Thane)

While Anders has never been good, exactly, about staying on the run, he's gotten pretty good at noticing when he's being watched. Much of the time it's just staring or glaring, but this guy has been following him and it's starting to make him nervous. It's entirely because of his shadow that he doesn't head for the docks to go to Darktown at his usual time - instead he detours to be out in the open in the courtyard before he whirls around and heads straight for the guy.

"What, exactly, do you want from me?"

8. Bad Patient Prompt (closed to Vandelin)

It's another day in the infirmary, though he's not really had a lot of time to make potions today. The patients have been fairly non-stop, so he's taking the break that has finally arrived to carefully feed little Pawdric. Purrelden sits like a queen on top of a shelf, watching the squeaking kitten stuff himself. Pawdric's just finished up and is getting carefully wiped down when Anders hears someone at the door and looks up.

"Vandelin!" The elf gets a smile and a nod to one of the two chairs in the room. "Come on in. What can I do for you?"

9. Just In Case Another Patient Is Bad Prompt (closed to Bethany)

The day has been on the longer side and as much as he'd like to curl up with Nate and doze off right away there's something he needs to do first. Anders comes into the room and smiles at Bethany and his husband both before jerking his head in the direction of the hallway.

"I'll be right back, love. Bethany, do you have a moment?"

[ooc: As usual, if you'd like something that's not here feel free to pop up a header or chat with me on Plurk or Discord!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Mmhmm." There's teasing in his voice. It's a natural divide that he's teased and known teasing about before - creation versus entropy - and he likes to keep his patients relaxed when it's actually possible.

The amusement fades from his expression as he starts casting, though. It's infected, which means there's no easy treatment here. And it means it's lingered for a while.

"Vandelin." Anders' voice is mild as he gently takes his kitten away to put him safely in a blanket nest. "Robes off. It's infected. I'm going to have to get the infection out before I can heal it. You should have come in sooner."

Scolding doesn't exactly help, not a vast majority of the time, but Vandelin should know better.

Should, and somewhere in the back of his mind does, but that's not going to make him any less averse to seeking help even in the most understandable of circumstances, or cooperating with the person providing said help. And especially not when it involves such an affront to his dignity as having to take his clothes off for a medical examination, shock and horror.

"It wasn't bothering me any earlier than this," he insists, another boldfaced lie delivered with the total conviction of truth. "Is the undressing really necessary? I've seen wounds fester before and this is nothing in comparison." And it's cold in here by Hasmali standards, though that has little to do with his objection.

"I'll just--" He'll compromise, if he absolutely must, by unfastening his robes to the waist and making the stained bandage partly visible through the open fabric. Look, he's sort of listening. That's good enough, right?

"It's infected," he repeats. The mild note is gone in his voice and now he sounds a bit stern. "I have to open up something that's infected. The robes will be in the way, and they'll likely be ruined with the matter that will be coming out of the wound. If it's a modesty matter, I can give you a blanket and leave the room long enough to wrap it around your lower section. But it is definitely infected and whether you felt it or not matters not at all."

As he's saying the last bit he's gone to the chest to the side in the room and is pulling out a blanket, holding it out.

"We do this, or it gets worse and endangers your life. I'm not exaggerating, and I promise it's not some sordid desire to see you dressed in less. The infection must come out."

It isn't a modesty issue, he would argue; it's a dignity issue, and the two are not synonymous, the former with its connotations of Chantry prudery and pearl-clutching. (His cousin would be disappointed in him for that thought process. His cousin would be disappointed in just about every decision he's made in the past two weeks.)

The importance of these semantics pales in comparison to the thought of what this procedure will now have to entail, and Vandelin, too, blanches ever so slightly at the thought. (Don't think of the Hinterlands; don't think of gangrenous frostbitten feet, or black blotches of blood poisoning. This isn't like that; it can't be.)

"I'd never have thought that was your motivation, more's the pity." Vandelin has no compunctions about flirting with married men in jest if it makes him sound calmer about all of this. He takes the blanket in a hand that betrays him with a quiver, and pretends immediately that it hadn't.

The facility with which he strips down underneath the blanket suggests a great deal of practice avoiding being seen nude. None of it, alas, is going to do him much good right now. Wincing openly at the pain, he unwinds the self-wrapped bandages.

He gives Van a half-smile for the joke before he's turning around and grabbing a specific potion off the desk. Turning in time for the wince only draws a momentarily raised eyebrow from him. Why is pain never teacher enough for people who avoid getting healed? He doesn't know how to get them to come in when they need it before it gets dire, and launching into a lecture just sends them running all the more.

Once it seems Vandelin is settled, he brings over the potion. "You'll want to drink this. You can take some comfort in knowing that if we'd met a couple of years back, and you weren't seriously injured, I would have had alternative intentions when it came to you undressing. But," his voice turns wry, "there's nothing sexy about infection. Drink this, it'll numb the pain. I can make quick work of opening the wound but you don't want to feel that."

Pain, to Vandelin, is less a teacher than it is an opportunity. It's not something he'll seek out for its own sake, but when it invariably becomes a consequence of his recklessness, enduring it without complaint is a matter of pride.

When push comes to shove, though--and right now, push is very much at shove--he considers the thought of letting a blade dig into that excruciatingly tender wound, turns visibly green, and reaches weakly for the potion.

"That's all the flattery I need," he says, determined to keep his mind on anything else at all but the encroaching blade. He can't flinch, can't cry out, can't do anything but keep up the casual banter with a smile, or else he won't be able to look himself in the eye.

Easily, as if knocking back a mug of watered ale, he downs the numbing concoction. It hurts to swallow.

This is absolutely Vandelin putting a brave face on things and Anders isn't about to call him out on it. He gives the potion a few moments to start working as he heats a clean blade to make certain there will be no transfer of matter, keeping it out of sight so that it's not being focused on.

"Surely you've suitors aplenty, though? You don't need an older married man to be hitting on you for the sake of your ego." He'd heard rumors about Vandelin and Kit, though he knows not to tease about a relationship without confirmation.

There. The blade is ready. Anders brings over the clean basin of water, a stack of clean towels, and then the blade before settling in close. "I'd recommend not watching. Talk to me about something. Hopes. Attractive people in the Inquisition. Animals. Pick a topic; it will help."

Anders' restraint with the teasing is much appreciated indeed; recent as the entire difficult separation from Kit still is, the last thing the procedure now needs is metaphorical knife-twisting along with the literal. As it is, he can't summon more than a humorless little huff of laughter at the notion of having any other suitors on the hook.

Never before has he found it difficult to speak at obnoxious length about any opinion in his head; now, faced with the need to select one and do that, his mind has never felt emptier. It's good, sound advice, and he knows he will end up watching and regretting it if he doesn't follow it, but the few seconds before his mind recovers feel endless.

"--You know, it's strange to me that every other Inquisition mage seems to specialize in entropy. I'm used to it being...not rare, exactly, but much less popular than the elemental disciplines, and those barely seem represented here at all. Doesn't it strike you as odd?" His hands clench tight on the edge of the table.

Edited 2018-01-08 08:16 (UTC)

[Open] A cat a day brings the healer to play

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