faderift | [Closed] Peeking at the Peak

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[Closed] Peeking at the Peak

WHO: Alistair, Anders, Carver, Loghain, Nate, Teren
WHAT: A happy little field trip out to a happy little place, all in hopes of continuing with a Blight cure.
WHEN: Drakonis 5
WHERE: Soldier's Peak
NOTES: Summarized here.

The Fortress looms before them, cold stone walls protecting cold stone towers, rimmed by cold snowy hills.

It's cold, basically, and somehow manages to look even colder than it feels. The stairs upward are no longer even, crooked and bent as if some giant decided he wanted to romp his way through, and the gates are askew and slightly open.

On the approach there's little noise beyond wind whistling through, until the gate is touched and a flock of ravens bursts upward in a cackling cacophony. Beyond that it's still. Too still, perhaps.

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"Teren," Anders says gently, "I blew up the Chantry. I understand keeping some things from the past private, there are... there are a couple of things that I've only told Nate, but I don't think there's anything you've done that would chase me away at this point."

And there's one thing that he's told no one, and probably will carry to his grave unspoken. But it's also something he'd never see Teren doing.

"I blew up the Chantry and the man you're avoiding is notorious for doing a lot of shady things in Ferelden. The company you're in is about as understanding of past actions as you can get."

"That's not what I'm talking about," Teren insists, almost helpless in tone, and she shakes her head irritably. It results in her actually resting her face in her hands for a moment.
"I--..." Lifting her head with a sigh, she looks over at Loghain again, her expression tired and frustrated. "I'm not what he's expecting."

Sometimes he needs to shut up and listen. This... is looking like one of those times.

"What do you mean?"

She alluded to it once, in her letter to him, and there's a part of Teren that hoped she would never have to have this conversation again. In truth, she doesn't have to, but Anders has proven himself as trustworthy as any. More trustworthy than Zerique or Mishka, at least so it appears, but that damage is already done.
Setting her bowl aside, she wraps her arms around her updrawn knees, looking tired and old. "Do you know why I never had children, Anders?"

He leans forward, keeping his voice low so that they're not overheard.

"I thought it simply that you didn't want them, as some don't. But if I was to guess at a further reason... you feared any child you had would be born wrong?" She'd written of that having caused her and her mother issues.

She appreciates his discretion, and leans in slightly to mirror him. Though previously having held his gaze, Teren averts it now a shake of her head with what's almost a smirk, albeit not at all an amused one. So he does remember, but it's obvious she wasn't plain enough.

"...I..." she begins, and seems to go away for a moment, her dark eyes betraying a deep, eternal melancholy. "...can't. Never could. Never even bled. At least not the way a woman's supposed to." Her gaze cuts to him for a split-second; he has to take her meaning now, because laboring over painful details is out of the question. "When first I was born, the midwife thought I was a boy. That's what they all heard first. But I wasn't, I'm... not." She grits her teeth, now staring rather uncharacteristically at the ground.
"I'm not quite anything. A thing shaped by a demon in a whore's womb, perhaps to punish her." There's no vitriol behind the words; they're just the truth as she heard it, whether or not it's believable or not.
"The whole village knew it about me. Knows. Apart from my mother, Zerique was the only person who knew and didn't despise me for it." Keyword 'didn't'; Mishka had thrown it in her face before he died. If the secret had ever been safe, it obviously wasn't for long.

"It's not quite... something that comes up, unless there are certain interests. When you look as I do, it doesn't come up much."

There's quiet in the air between them for a few moments after she's done speaking. What she talks about is something he's only heard rumors about before; despite the many, many children he's delivered in Darktown he'd never encountered a child born like that.

"You're a person," Anders says quietly. "It's not an empty platitude. It... It could be a complication with him, yes. I won't pretend it's not possible." When people are looking for a romantic partner there's often expectations. Always, in his case. Everything he's ever had has involved a physical aspect. But he isn't Loghain.

"You don't... have what he'd expect, no. But what if that doesn't matter? What if what matters is who you are? I think you deserve to have someone who isn't Zerique caring for you like that, Teren, and I think he deserves a chance to show you who he is."

Anders half-reaches out for her hand and stops before dropping it down. She doesn't like physical contact. It wouldn't be a comfort for her.

"This changes nothing for me. You are still a friend, still someone I care about, and still someone I will harass because of that. If it changes something for him... If it does, you'll still have people who care about you rather than what you were born with or without."

Despite Anders' kind words, Teren flinches. There's no knowing what she had expected to hear, but it's safe to say it was unlikely to be good. Even from Anders, which she knows is silly. He wouldn't be cruel, and that she knows this simultaneously gives her confidence in their friendship and makes her want to tear it away so he never has the chance.
Though she doesn't take his hand when he reaches for it, Teren appreciates that he gives her the space, and her own hand twitches as though in response. She blinks rapidly, frowning, and gives a small nod, unusually timid and looking all the stranger for it.

"He doesn't seem the sort," she observes in a voice that's almost soft, "to string along a homely wench in hopes of getting something out of it." But there's always the possibility. She just has to quiet the part of herself that insists so. "I don't know what use I'd be now, to such a person. I expect I'm more hazard than benefit at this point." The tiniest smirk, but she's not entirely joking. A life lived for a purpose, and love sacrificed for the purpose of someone else, colors a person's outlook. There is no Just Because as far as she's concerned.

The flinch makes him worried he's said something wrong and he runs through everything again mentally, trying to sort it out and figure out what he needs to apologize for, before she's nodding and talking quietly in a voice that's far from upset.

"Teren," he says gently, not sure where he's going with that. It hurts to hear her call herself homely wench and hazard, because it sounds like she believes it.

"I don't think he's thinking of use. I think he's thinking about company, about something shared." In the time they have left. They've both been Grey Wardens for a while, and while Anders has leads on the cure he doesn't have anything solid and time is against them. All of them. "Sometimes taking the chance doesn't work out and it hurts. And sometimes something amazing comes from it. Maybe it's time that you got something amazing for once."

He had it. She should have it too, and Loghain as well.

Luckily, if he'd said something wrong, Teren would no doubt have called him on it by now. She's hardly known to hold back her feelings on a topic, although on this one... perhaps. But her body language suggests she isn't closing off any more than usual, that this is how she's naturally reacting to the conversation.
She gives a little snort to Anders' final point, but it's not derisive, and is even accompanied by the faint twitching of the corner of her mouth, as though she's on the verge of smirking but just needs a bit more reason. "I suppose... the worst thing can happen is he kills me. Or. You know." She shrugs, rolling her eyes as though exasperated with her own situation, "becomes convinced I'm the sixth blight. ...I think he'd have some support with that."

There's a joke here that he's not going to make, because he respects Loghain. But it absolutely lingers for a moment before Anders shakes his head with a faint smile.

"Please. Do you know how many Fereldans are everywhere? You'd have at least equal support. Except he's not going to try that, because he's a decent person. He's not going to try to kill you, and he's not going to try to rally the Wardens against you. This... People judge. They don't like what's different. But we're our own small group, our own small community with the Wardens here. We don't all like each other all the time, but we don't want to get each other killed."

Maybe Alistair and Inessa still do with Loghain, on second thought, but there's no point in adding that disclaimer.

Anders shrugs. "You don't have to try with him. I would. But I am, obviously, not you."

It's a while before Teren responds, and when she does, it's little more than a nod as she looks off toward the direction from which Loghain came. Perhaps she'll talk to him, perhaps she won't, but at least certain matters have been settled.

Maker forbid she might even feel better.

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[Closed] Peeking at the Peak

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