OPEN | We don’t have to fall from grace

[keenly]

WHO: Colin, with a few closed starters for Nathaniel
WHAT: Open/catch-all log for May
WHEN: Bloomingtide
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: Starters inside. Let me know if you want something.

General Store

Colin has come to love this place. After six months here, it has come to smell like cloves and cedarwood. All the spices he uses in cooking have seasoned the wood panels. It really feels like it belongs to him now, even if the property belongs to the Inquisition courtesy of the City of Kirkwall.

At the moment, he is baking rather than cooking, this time more for therapy than anything else. There is something meditative about kneading dough. It's impossible not to slow down when doing this, be in the moment, stop worrying. A simple life is all he ever wanted, and that's what making bread means. It is a staple--easy and simple to make but vital to the function of one's house and therefore empowering. This is important work.

Gallows Garden

In one of the gardens, Colin sits on a patch of grass with his face turned upward toward the sun, eyes shut. He breathes deeply and evenly, and neither peeks nor starts when footsteps are heard. He knows you're there, but he's not thinking about you. He's emptying his mind. Somehow, the feel of sunlight works like a mantra, a white noise he can feel. His mother would say it's the Antivan in him that makes him love sunlight. Colin thinks it's the mage in him. For ten years, he wasn't allowed very much sunlight. Now, he can have his fill of it. He can hoard it all greedily and no one will know the difference. No one has the right to stop him or demand for him to justify this indulgence, or ask who said he could spend so much time sitting and doing nothing in the sunlight.

So his brown skin gets browner by the day, dark hair developing faint caramel highlights, but most importantly, some of his nervous mannerisms are being smoothed out. He can be seen leaving the garden looking, and feeling, lighter than air.

The Market

"I want the one that spit at me," Colin can be heard saying. It makes sense because he's at a clam stall. It's about five o'clock in the morning and he has just decided what lunch will be today. A merchant takes a scoop and digs through the clams. Several spit in different directions, each stream of water two or three feet long.

"You want to eat that one?" the merchant laughs, dumping clams into Colin's outstretched bag.

"Oh yes," Colin says firmly, smiling wickedly.

When all is done and paid for, Colin starts back to the Gallows. After a few paces he stops, looking at a shirt hanging at another merchant's stall. It is beautiful--bright, hand-painted silk. It is also expensive. Far less expensive are the tiny bits of jewelry at the same stall. He starts looking over a tray with numerous earrings, clearly distracted from his task. One clam gives one final, defiant spit before resigning itself to its parched fate.

Darktown Clinic

Maybe you are a volunteer here. Maybe you are a patient. Either way, Colin is here after work several times a week, and he isn't just here giving out potions. Here, he practices real healing magic, as someone who barely practices magic at all otherwise. This month, Colin is giving out Adalia's rain boots to every scavenger presenting with trench foot.

Of course, Darktown's shady reputation comes from somewhere. Today, a man sidles up to Colin as he works and claps an arm around his shoulders, starting to talk about how good a man he is and how he's making a real difference. He talks loudly, and as soon as Colin knows what he's up to (and he lived in Denerim--it doesn't take long), he shoves him away.

"Don't touch me," he growls, patting down his own pockets and finding--yes. Yes, that is his purse gone. He shouldn't have brought it here.

Annnnnd the man is already running away. Colin follows as far as the door with a sigh. Using magic to stop a pickpocket seems excessive, and there wasn't that much money in there, and...sigh.

Okay. He's over it.

Comments

[keenly]

Colin's hand immediately goes to his chest, pressing the phylactery against his ribs. Then he looks down and peeks under his hand. He doesn't say anything, but he glances around to make sure they're alone before pulling the bottle out by the string it's on. The bottle is wrapped tightly in twine, one strand of which has shifted enough to expose glass and the glow behind it. He deftly goes about fixing the problem, still saying nothing.

[justice_is_blond]

He's quiet as Colin goes about hiding the glow, eyes back on his own work putting the last few things in order for the morning. It's not enough of a distraction. What does he say? His own student has held on to his phylactery... why? Anders is glad Colin has control of it, that it's not elsewhere, but he still can't wrap his mind around people actually keeping the things.

There's freedom to be had, but some mages hang on to the ball and chain around their ankle.

"Why do you keep it?" His voice is still light. He wants to understand, not accuse, even as he worries for Colin.

[keenly]

Colin scarcely blinks while he removes equipment from the hot rinse water. It takes him several seconds to reply, as he has to consider his answer.

"I don't know." A faint shrug. "It's power. Power someone else held over me. It's nice to just...have it. Knowing I don't have to get rid of it immediately. I don't have to decide what to do with it right away. That bit of power they held, it belongs to me now."

[justice_is_blond]

Reclaiming the power. It makes sense as a concept, the way some are staying in the lower-asset former mage tower of the Gallows rather than the former Templar tower that has more amenities, but this particular form of reclaiming feels like walking around with a snake wrapped around one's neck just waiting for it to bite.

"You don't fear them reclaiming it? Or a spell hurled against you having double the effect if it strikes you in the front?" It is Colin's life and Colin's choice, and there is a limit at which Anders' protectiveness is no longer an asset. He needs to keep that in mind for both their sakes.

[keenly]

"If they want me, they'll make a new one, and I'm never in combat. And even if on some chance a fireball hit me, I'd be just as...immolated, either way." Colin shrugs. "There are many things to worry about that are much more likely to happen. This, I'm all right with not fretting over."

[justice_is_blond]

He'd fought so hard to break free, and he wonders if this is a little bit of what Myr had been getting at weeks ago. The ones who didn't run, who hadn't experienced that particular fear, wouldn't understand it. As mages spend more time away from the Circle, the urgency would fade.

If the danger isn't pressing, it loses its impact.

"It's a chain," he says quietly. "That they can make another chain doesn't change its purpose or potential. I'm not going to try to tell you what to do with it, but you're finding independence, life, a footing of your own. That," and he jerks his thumb in the direction of Colin's chest, "is something that can be wrapped right back around your throat."

He wants so much better for Colin, but Colin's life isn't his.

"I smashed mine. They could make another, I've no doubt there's desire to, but I'll not make it easy for them to take me in again should they find the way clear to do so. If all else fails, I'll be a thorn in the side of all of those who want the Circles back."

[keenly]

"If someone wants to take it from me, I'll crush it first. But right now, you're the second person who knows I even have mine. And the other is the one who brought it to me."

Ordinarily Colin's patience goes far, but he's feeling it strain now. He doesn't have to justify this to anyone. And if Anders thinks he's not afraid enough, if Anders wants him to be more afraid, Anders isn't prepared to reap the rewards of his own revolution.

[justice_is_blond]

He looks over at the young man and then looks down as he finishes his final task. There are times when he wonders if he's lying to himself when he believes he can have any sort of positive impact on the future. This is one of them; he can't even get his apprentice free.

Anders steps back and picks up his staff, slotting it into the straps on his back and preparing to head back up top.

"Who?" he finally asks. At least someone had brought it to Colin, and he can be thankful about that. It's not in Inquisition hands for Colin to be judged worthy or not, criminal or not.

[keenly]

There's a lengthy pause. Colin doesn't think Anders would get Kostos in trouble, least of all for this, but he doesn't think Kostos would thank Colin for telling anyone. After some deliberation, he shakes his head.

"He wouldn't want you knowing. Wouldn't want anyone knowing, not you in particular. He'd probably have a fit if anyone knew he did something nice."

A shrug. That might have been too many clues. Or just enough clues. But nobody can say Colin told anyone.

[justice_is_blond]

The long pause and the shake of the head make Anders wonder if Colin even trusts him, if somehow he's failed more than he knows, but then there's a very large clue there that's easy enough to follow. Male, doesn't like to be known for being nice, was with them to get the phylacteries? Add to that the fact that Kostos hadn't stopped Anders from pocketing one himself, and it feels like a very safe guess. And like Colin had simply been trying to not exactly name the man.

"It would also verge on not-quite-Loyalist behavior, and he'd not want that." Anders deliberately doesn't look at Colin as he says it - it's not a question or a test or a prodding for confirmation. "Let's head up. We don't want the regular ferry guards getting antsy and wondering if we're all right."

And by that, he means he doesn't want the ferry guards wondering if he's getting up to something destructive. He's watched. It's exhausting, but it's his own fault, so he tries not to make it worse when it doesn't put a burden on him or others. Anders waves to the night shift attendants before starting to walk, expecting Colin to walk with him.

"Do you... Do you still find it worth it to have me teaching you?" There have been a few things of late they're not on the same page with. This. Forgiving Templars who might not ask for it. Some would see it as more than enough reason to find another teacher, though Anders hopes that's not the case with Colin and there's a little hint of that in his voice.

[keenly]

The strongest emotion Colin has shown in this entire conversation comes up: confusion. His brow furrows, his eyes widen, and he looks at Anders with some concern. He even goes so far as to stop heading out the door, standing and staring in bewilderment and sudden doubt.

"What's...what? What changed?" Just how strongly does Anders feel about this phylactery business, if he's questioning even having Colin as his student?

[justice_is_blond]

...He's making it messy, even as he's trying to not do that. Maker. Why are people so hard? Anders stops as well, waving his hand, trying to de-escalate this from getting too out of control.

"It's not, it's not a change. I simply know that I... that I can get exhausting. And I have had people prefer to... simplify their lives with distance. Especially when there's a difference of opinion."

He takes a breath. "I hate phylacteries with a passion. Having one destroyed any chance I had at a life. Which means I can't promise the topic will never come up again, but I saw you tense. I don't want to drive you off, I want to keep teaching you, but I also can't wrap my mind around keeping it and I'm offering... I suppose I'm trying to offer you an out I'd prefer you not take."

In the most complicated fashion he can, because somehow that's how he always does things.

"If you never speak with me again it'd never come up. Which, now that I say it, sounds absolutely stupid." He reaches up to rub his temples. There's an actual good reason to find another teacher right there - maybe someone else wouldn't be an idiot at the drop of a staff.

[keenly]

All right, the brief panic unravels. Faster than it might have, six months ago. He hears what Anders has to say about it and tries to organize his thoughts about it, his response, some reassurance to Anders that he is not being blind or reckless. No, the more important thing is to get one thing straight:

"I understand where you're coming from. I'm not taking any of that personally. And I believe in what we did, and I believe in destroying all the phylacteries we can."

All right. Deep breath in, deep breath out.

"You feel the way you do because your phylactery was a chain that got yanked. Mine never was. I could never get that far. My chains are...they're different. And I can't destroy them. I have to carry them everywhere, no matter where I go or what I do. I can't bathe without clothes on, I can't stand being touched even on the arm some days, and I used to go frantic trying to think about leaving the house and talking to people even to pick up groceries. Your chain, you destroyed and you never have to think about again. But there's nothing physical I can reclaim and control except the phylactery. Unless you have any better ideas, I'm keeping it, for now."

It occurs to him that this is technically conflict, and he is not panicking. Yet. Well, baby steps.

[justice_is_blond]

He listens, frowning, but it's not directed at Colin. The phylactery is serving as some sort of... bandage if he's hearing this right. Something tangible to remind Colin that he's not going to be hurt again like he was before. The lock to the chain as the key to the chain.

"And you don't think that killing the worst of your abusers would help, else you'd have taken me up on the offer," Anders adds slowly. He can start to see the shape of it now. As long as Colin is wearing that around his neck, he knows he's not within Templar power. It's still a risk. It's still dangerous. It still leaves him vulnerable... but he doesn't need to know that it does that. Colin needs a way to not feel vulnerable.

"I don't have a better idea at the moment," he says as he stops frowning and meets Colin's eyes. "But if you've no objections, I'm going to put my mind to it. Because you deserve a life that's not filled with that fear." The Templars and Circles and Chantry will never answer for what they did to Colin, but maybe there can be help.

[keenly]

Colin's head shakes to the first thing Anders says. It wouldn't help. What's done is done and no amount of death will undo it. If Colin can still feel the bruises from Lutair's fingertips long after they have healed, the man's murder won't make it go away either.

He doesn't look especially convinced when Anders offers to think of a better way, either, but there's not really any harm and he's had enough conflict.

"Fine," he says, voice barely audible. He steps outside the clinic and blows out the flame in the lantern.