[Closed] I've got the magic in me

[justice_is_blond]

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."

Comments

[wheretheferngrows]

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.

[foundmyselfagain]

"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."