faderift | [Closed] I've got the magic in me

WHO: Five billion mages.
WHAT: The mages Anders has invited mingle
WHEN: The tenth of Wintermarch
WHERE: A warehouse in the docks
NOTES: None atm.

The warehouse is set up pretty sparsely. Part of the warehouse is taken up by a table of food next to a table of drinks next to a table of plates and cups that don't match, near a lot of scattered chairs. A short space away is a deliberate oval of chairs because he, at least, is amused in making sure no circle shapes occur here. Finally, there's a table with a stack of scraps of parchment.

When everyone's gathered and is starting to mingle, Anders stands up and clears his throat.

"Thank you for coming." It takes work to look calm and confident. This feels so important to him and he doesn't want to make a mess of it. "Obviously the food and drink is self-explanatory," he says with a faint smile before gesturing at the oval, "As far as the rest, I figured we could have a small area set up for serious discussion, any heavy matters that people want to talk about, easily joined and left or ignored completely."

He jerks a thumb in the direction of the last table. "Finally, the parchment is for writing down anything you particularly want to teach or learn. Put your name on it, and people can page through them and be in contact. And I think that's enough from me."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He's here, of course. Glancing around, studying faces, listening in on chatter. For him, this is more important than idle banter and snacks. It's learning who potential allies could be, down the road. Even if Nell isn't interested, and even beyond her if she is, it's important for him to know. Just in case.

He's just as willing to crack a joke and have a giggle or two as usual, but there's something particularly intense and serious about his expression. He's a bit twitchier than usual, glancing around at faces, and occasionally over his shoulder, or at the door. He's still half-expecting the Templars to swoop in here and tell them that they're all under arrest.

This isn't illegal, he tells himself as he sips juice (avoiding alcohol completely) and munches on snacks. It does little to calm his nerves.

He comes over, giving Gareth a half-smile. The young man definitely looks more serious than usual, and Anders can't really blame him. They're assembling. It's not something the Chantry would ever approve of.

"I heard you talking to my caterer," he says, a little amusement in his voice. If Gareth knows Colin's secret that's a plus - it means Colin isn't so scared that he's hiding it from everyone. "You've... gotten acquainted?"

Well, the last time a bunch of anti-Circle types assembled around him, they had a war. He wonders vaguely if it'll come to that, again. If they try to shove them in Circles again, he can almost guarantee it--if not war, than heavy fighting. And he'll be one of them.

Will there be war if they keep the Circles dissolved? Hmm.

"Colin? Yeah, I know him. I met him when he first came to the Gallows. Had a look like he'd just swallowed a gallon of spoiled milk. Not an uncommon expression for people showing up there, mind you, but the numbers have trickled down." What had his own expression been? Tears, probably. He'd only been six. "I was curious."

"Mm." It's a neutral noise. Anders is hoping, from what he overheard, that Colin found someone around his own age to confide in. But Gareth here sounds like he might have simply been teasing a friend, not necessarily a mage friend, and Anders doesn't think he can risk that leap.

"I can't blame anyone for not liking to come into the Gallows. Its history is entirely based on bloodshed and suffering." Much like the Chantry, but he's trying to not be too outspoken when not in the Serious Oval. "Are you finding it easier to bear living there as time goes by?"

Some evenings are still difficult. Though that makes him wonder if Gareth ever met Karl.

Gareth is, in fact, well aware of Colin being a mage. But being someone both habitually paranoid and used to keeping secrets, he's not going to just blabber about it. He might try to insist Colin is otherwise with a rather suspicious insistence, but he had the best of intentions.

He doesn't answer Anders right away. It's a complex question that raises complex emotions--it would be that way for anyone, but because this is Anders, that makes it even more complicated. It'd be easy to snip about how Anders had actively contributed to that bloodshed and suffering, all in the name of the greater good.

"No. And yes, I guess. Well--it's better than it was. But a punch in the face is better than getting stabbed. Doesn't make it more pleasant. Just less unpleasant." He shrugs, feeling fidgety and tense. "Funny. I killed more Templars than I can count to keep from getting stuck there again. And here I am."

Who knows if she'll be a decent ally, really, but Fern is at least willing to mosey up to Gareth, nibbling on a pasty of some variety, and greet him with a friendly beam.

"It's nice, all this, isn't it?" she asks of him, seeming brighter and a bit more sunshine-y than she's been in some weeks. Possibly being around a bunch of other people who are like her, and not bothering to hide it to make a bunch of non-mages comfortable, is bringing it out of her. (Possibly it's just a nice distraction from being depressed as hell over her dead crush, or anxious as fuck over her fiance hanging around.)

Well, he wouldn't exactly want to have her next to him in a violent uprising, but that's less about any flaws she might have, and more that he would rather Fern not have to get involved in all of that. She ought to continue having a normal life--though all things considered, if Circles are implemented again, she'll be a known apostate.

He doesn't want to think about that.

He'd much rather smile at her, and enjoy how cheerful she seems to be. "It is, really. When I first showed back up here again, one of my friends told me that there are more Loyalists than they expected, and that its not obvious who all the Templars and Seekers are. Gave me anxiety every time I so much as sneezed." He flashes her a sheepish grin. "Not that I've done anything to make them mad, but. You can see why it had me on edge."

"Did they give you trouble, before?" It's hard not to be curious about the experiences of mages who lived in the Circles, if only because she didn't. "The Templars, I mean." She gestures around them in a general sort of way, referring to the Inquisition in Kirkwall. "The ones I've met here don't seem so bad."

Gareth stares at Fern with a disbelief that he can't entirely wrap his head around just yet, enough that he wonders if he's being played with. But Fern wouldn't be malicious, and she seems quite serious.

"...They spent every moment of my life watching me, with the threat of ripping my soul from my body if I didn't behave. It...wasn't bad, when I was little. It got worse when I started getting older. Friends turning up Tranquil. Or killed. When the Chantry exploded, and Meredith called for the Rite of Annulment--it means she wanted to kill us. All of us. Down to the last child. And she damn well tried. I had to fight my way out of Kirkwall, and then the Templars kept hunting us down, afterwards. And that's before the war even began."

His tone is dark, with old anger that still feels raw. It's easier, because he knows Fern just doesn't know. She's not trying to defend them. She just...never had to live what he did.

"No one in the Inquisition has, yet. But they would, if given a chance. They would reestablish the Circles, shove us all back in, and do it all over again. They exist to be our jailers, Fern." His eyes are intent, emotional. "And just because there's a truce now doesn't mean they won't gladly stick us all in prison again, once it's over."

Gareth describes a nightmare to her.

Fern listens with rapt attention and seems unable to move, suddenly, as though the ground under her has shifted and left her on sinking sand. She believes him. How could she not, seeing the raw pain in his face and in his eyes, knowing that he saw those things, that people hunted him down like a wild animal... for what? Because he was like her?

She thinks immediately of the night of Sina's death, how she fled on instinct to Simon, who has always been so kind and gentle with her. He would never raise a sword at her, he wouldn't--

"I think," she starts, her voice uneven, and so is her footing, suddenly, "I think I need to sit down--"

And she does, abruptly, sinking down onto the nearest chair without much grace at all.

"I'm sorry."

He says it not because he's sorry that he's told her, but because it's upset her. Perhaps he should have said it more gently? Start off with smaller things, work his way up to the annulment and three year manhunt. Magehunt. Should he soften the blow, somehow?

"Not...all Templars are like that." He admits it reluctantly, almost like it pains him. Like, somehow, the idea that not every Templar is out to get him makes things worse, rather than having a few good ones. "The Chantry just tends to...chew them up, and spit them out. Like Samson--the man leading the Red Templars. I knew him, before the Chantry kicked him out. He...wasn't a bad man. Not then. Not before they kicked him out for helping mages."

[Closed] I've got the magic in me

Gareth

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