faderift | the days that bind us

[Grump, open]

He is tense after things have been officially settled, expression serious. There's no lighthearted chatter despite what they've achieved because it's not done yet for a lot of people.

While he's not smiling at people or inviting them to join him, he's also not glaring at them. Anders will even offer out the flask of what he's currently drinking from if someone sits down next to him against the side of the ship.

[Closed to Nate]

His phylactery is safe, tucked against his skin so he can feel it there and know precisely where it is at all times. A lifetime ago he'd been pulled into a trap by its promise, and now at last he has it in his possession. It still makes him tense, and still inspires feelings in him he's not comfortable with.

In a still moment, Anders joins Nate and touches their temples together. "Walk with me? I'd like to catch my breath away from the rest."

Edited 2018-02-27 23:33 (UTC)

Nathaniel kisses his forehead and wraps his arm around his waist. "Let's go."

They walk up to the seaside and Nathaniel takes Anders' hand, waiting for him to speak.

It's the same hand Nate had held earlier, when he'd demonstrated how he'd found what Anders should have been prioritizing. Many steps pass in silence with Anders trying to find the right words. Eventually they're at a good distance from anyone else and near a rocky outcropping that can block the view of watchers.

Anders releases Nate's hand and retrieves the phylactery from the little pocket in his robes, holding it between them. There's no doubt it's his.

"I was terrified when they made this," he says quietly. "I'd just been rowed across a lake and deposited in a fortress, shivering, alone, and then one of them pulled out a knife." Anders touches a spot on the inside of his forearm with his free hand absent-mindedly, gone silent again thanks to memories crowding in.

"I'm still scared by it," he finally says. "It was used against me so many times."

"I remember." Rylock's madness and cruelty, ambushing a Warden with the promise of peace of mind. She wasn't the last, either, just the only one he saw with his own eyes. "I wanted to let you keep smashing them. I wish I could have. But there is no possible way for the Inquisition to keep it secret that they have these. Soon, every mage group will be lobbying for control of them. And given the Inquisition's stance on mage freedom, I believe it won't take long for them to pass them to their rightful owners."

"The Inquisition's seeming stance."

They still don't have a native mage in any of the key positions, something that stands out even more when they're taking the phylacteries back. It's one thing to say they accept as people, but it could be tactical. It's hard to have faith.

"I feel sometimes like I can do nothing to help anyone save myself," he says heavily. "I want to help my people but the Inquisition blocks dealing with the phylacteries in the only right way, I've been told that opening my mouth will hurt mages by moderates, and the far extremists find me too moderate. All I can do..."

Anders exhales heavily, tosses the phylactery once in his hand before catching it and flinging it hard against the rock. The spell breaks and the blood and glass splatter outward.

"...it's not enough. But it's something."

"A lot of little somethings add up," Nathaniel says, watching as the sea creeps closer to the spatter of blood. Come high tide, it will wash away the last drops of Anders' blood before it was tainted. "And it no longer has a hold over you. I'm proud of you, love. It took a long time, but it's happened now and it's done. You've survived it all and you are free."

He steps close to Nate again, wrapping his arms around his husband and resting his forehead on Nate's shoulder.

"I survived it and I'm free," he echoes. Free with some limitations, like the Warden's reputation being at stake if he'd continued helping, but more free than he's been since he set the barn on fire. "Maker. That's been there for about twenty-five years, looming. I wanted to think it was destroyed in Amaranthine but there's no surprise to knowing that Rylock was lying and manipulating. I... I truly wish we could see an end to phylacteries at all. I don't know what loyalists will do with theirs, but the whole practice..."

It's an invasive thing that's been used against mages for so long. All of those practices need to end.

"We're people. Dangerous people, I know, but... but we didn't choose this. And a vast majority of us are trying to do our best. Which says little in my case, but should say a lot for the rest."

"I know." Nathaniel kisses the top of his husband's head, winding his arms around him. "I know. But you are free. All of them are free now. They are free to be Loyalists or Libertarians and have it actually matter that they have an opinion. Even the most conservative among them are free."

A tilt of his head. "When we get home, we will have champagne. Toast to that wretched vial being destroyed. In the meantime, care to walk along the beach with me?"

Nate has a point he hadn't considered. Even if they keep their phylactery, shove it in a sock in a drawer or something, they've chosen. It's a freedom. Anders inhales and exhales slowly before nodding.

"I'd like that. Do you think we can stumble along the beach like this?" He's teasing. It would be awkward and ridiculous to even take a step like this, rather than to try walking anywhere. "A two-headed blob of a shape."

Anders gives Nate's shoulder a kiss before straightening up and reaching for his hand. "Let's walk, love. We could even run." It's also teasing. ...Mostly.

It's not even (just) a trip across the sea, the terrible weather, the climbing up a cliff face at night in the downpour, the pitch black fighting, that's soured Malcolm's mood. The day is saved, in a sense, yes. But the fallout has yet to come. Templars--or those trained in a way similar to Templars--and a mob and a Seeker of all people. Just as he'd feared. The survivors need interviewed and/or interrogated.

The man's been gone all of a month, but he's certainly missing Aleron right about now.

Anders is not one of his favorite people by a long shot. But they have been amicable, to his own surprise. For his part, he chooses to remain standing by where Anders sits.

"One has to wonder what's next."

He looks up at Malcolm, quiet for a few moments, because what comes next is complicated for a lot of people from what he's guessing.

"There's destroying the phylacteries, for one." There's no point to trying to hide how he feels about them. His stance on it will be clear if anyone thinks about it for the briefest of moments. "Then there's seeing if there's any ripple effect from this. It would be nice to hear people come out against all phylacteries... but I doubt that's going to happen."

He isn't angry, but he is a little frustrated. Mages were hurt again and he doesn't think it will inspire any change, again.

"What are your thoughts on this group?" The man's a Seeker. Has this changed anything for him? Or is it business as usual?

"Opinions on phylacteries are likely going to be directly influenced by their stances on Circles." That's just how it is. There are likely supporters of reinstating Circles who don't support phylacteries, but...

But the group? These people and their ridiculous game? "Abominable, the lot of them. Taking their own personal, and quite frankly fanatical, interpretations into their own hands and doing experiments? Unless they had a spy on the inside, they couldn't know who was being hurt where, so they were merely playing with the lives of mages because they could. You get a group of disgruntled people, particularly uneducated, you rile them up, you point them at an enemy, you give them some training to feel invincible, and you use them for fodder. A cult at best."

A cult with a Seeker involved.

"You can have Circles without phylacteries," he says lightly. There's a lot of other things he can say too, about how cages without leashes are still cruel things, but stress is high on the ship. It could far too easily turn into an argument.

Anders offers up the flask despite Malcolm not sitting down. A cult? That's interesting. He's not sure he follows that trail of thought yet, but he's curious enough to try to follow it.

"They couldn't know who was being hurt where, but I'm not sure that mattered to them. They were hurting mages, and yes, playing with the lives of mages because they could. It's not... entirely unfamiliar. For me, at least, and more than a few others. What is it that makes them a cult?"

Malcolm looks down at the offered drink, and...perhaps he should accept what help he can get when his anxiety on boats shoots through the roof. He accepts it with a nod, drinking not deeply, no sense in taking kindness for granted, before handing it back.

And sighs. Deeply. "Perhaps less a cult and more a subset of people we know all too well but with more training from the right people and more to work with. A relatively small group, secluded. Did you hear some of their conversations? Fanatical, in their own way. These were probably townsmen, farmers, millers, barkeeps. All lured together with the ideal of a world where mages are under their control or dead."

He doesn't feel responsible for what's happened. Keeping track of phylacteries was never his job, and any Seeker that has strayed from the late Divine and her will is no Seeker any longer. What he does feel responsible for is at least some of what they do moving forward.

"And who knows truly how many more phylacteries are out there? Who's to say someone else won't take up the idea and find more? There's got to be a way to end this tiresome mage war."

"There's a way to end the... mage war." Not Templar and mage war. Just mage war. To say that he was surprised by the wording would be a lie, but it's still not encouraging to hear someone who'd been in authority make it sound like his people were the only cause of it.

"It's called negotiation, finding something that the various mage groups can live with. But no one's asking what we want except us, which means no one's listening to us, which means..." Anders spreads his hands to indicate the world at large. "Is it too much to ask that my people not be hurt? That we've a chance to make lives of our own? This group thought so, but they're not alone, not the first, and they won't be the last unless people deemed respectable by commoners, people with authority, decide it's not too much and say so. But that is the challenge, isn't it? Convincing people like you that letting us be benefits Thedas, rather than harms it. And I don't know how to do that. ...Not that I'm likely the right one to try."

"You are very much the last person to try and convince anyone to calm things down, I'm afraid." Which is what happens when you blow up a big building and kill a bunch of people in a prominent city.

"But the Inquisition is only a small slice of the population. We can try diplomacy all we want, but so long as people out there believe that mages are dangerous and need to be locked up, our voice only carries so far." That's what Anders meant by people like him, right? And people with authority. "We've a foothold in Kirkwall, which is a good start, but given the history, we're not likely to ever turn over every negative opinion on mages. Then there's the nonsense with the forest, which is its own bag of worms. They can't even agree on a replacement memorial. Coexisting and supporting mages in plain sight helps, but only so far. The Templars are like the Grey Wardens, they've no centralized authority or command, just skills and titles, and the mage groups can't decide what's best for themselves. It's become less about one group against another and more and more individual people with agendas keeping up the fight, it seems."

"You underestimate what the Seekers could do if they took a stance for coexisting with mages, I feel. I know, there's been damage done to your order. But many still believe in it."

He can't. Kirkwall wasn't just him, it was also the Templars and the Seekers who chose to ignore his letters, Meredith's behavior, and the treatment of the mages. What little faith he had left in any Chantry-based organization doing the right thing died in the silence that was answer to his pleas for help.

The common people, though, still have faith. And theirs is a powerful opinion.

"I don't think that many people truly enjoy war. That people fight for fighting's sake. It is, for most I have known, a last resort. There are exceptions, and I'd not be surprised that some of the people we came across today are among them. But for most the war is desperation. So many mages want a life that is theirs with all the complications that entails and it is my belief that everyone deserves that. Whatever they're born as or with."

He takes a breath and a drink of his own flask, leaning back against the wall and no longer looking directly at Malcolm.

"And I can't see why people will give their lives to deny a group that. I understand fear, fear of mages, fear of magic. They've been taught it their entire lives, and there are two events in recent history of a magical nature that were terrifying. But one of those came from a mage who'd been kept by the Circles, held by that broken system..." Anders exhales. "I don't know where you stand on the matter, exactly, but you're speaking with me and speaking of the Inquisition supporting mages so maybe you've open eyes to how much of a mess keeping a whole people group locked away is and always will be."

"The Seekers. All three of them."

Not the first or the last time he's considered the idea that perhaps the idea of the Seekers as an organization should be set aside right now, though it's not something he'll voice aloud right now.

He's restless on a boat but, with reluctance, sits at last. "I have always spoken with you, and the Inquisition has always supported mages, and despite my affiliations, I think you will find I have a somewhat more lenient on the idea of perpetual incarceration of a people. And hopefully someday this social problem of mages and their rights to exist will be solved, maybe even in our lifetime. Perhaps when a new Divine is elected..."

There's the briefest flash of amusement on Anders' face at the number. All three. It's definitely not a lot. But it's also none none... and that's something to speak about later if Malcolm seems amenable.

"I want to see it in my lifetime." It's the first time in this conversation his hard work to sound neutral and unemotional slips, and there's a longing in there that runs all the way to his bones. "I don't want a single additional generation of mages to know captivity, to be taught to fear and hate themselves. I want them free."

Nothing will make what he did worth it, exactly, but if mages never again have to fear abuse and confinement he can be at something close to peace.

"And I don't know if it's safe to rely on a new Divine. We could just as easily get someone reactionary rather than revolutionary. The mages can't afford to wait and hope. We have to work, we have to reach out. ...Even if it's to groups of only three."

the days that bind us

Anders | OTA

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