faderift | [Open] Irregular Mages Ahoy

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[Open] Irregular Mages Ahoy

WHO: Anders and Thor and You!
WHAT: Various adventures and misadventures
WHEN: Early to mid Bloomingtide
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: Gonna put up some basic openings here first for either, then specific headers. Hit me up on plurk (Nadat) or Discord (Nadat#4647) if you'd like something for your dude!

Anders 1. The Clinic

There's a pause in the regular flow of traffic, enough that Anders is free to clean some of the slates leftover from an earlier class and straighten chairs and tables, moving steadily through the Clinic and greeting people by name or nod.

Anders 2. The Gallows Herb Garden

He's not alone as he tends to the plants and gathers a few sprigs of what the Infirmary's short on. Sprawled out in the sun, belly-up, is a tuxedo cat that's half-watching everything. A bit more active is a large orange fluff of a cat that's sneaking gathered herbs out of Anders' basket and piling them off to the side whenever Anders isn't looking.

Anders 3. Infirmary

He's here as usual, healing, providing potions and medical advice. Anyone dropping by gets seen to quickly, regardless of how he might feel about them. Any Rifters, though, get an additional question.

"Does your world have equality? Or some semblance of it?"

--

Thor 1. Tavern

Half the taverns in Kirkwall are closed to him, Tevinter, past conflicts, all that, but that just means that he's all the more happy this one is welcoming. Thor is loud and large and in a very good mood as he drinks his ale and chats with anyone who looks like they might tolerate a conversation.

In fact, if someone, some human or dwarf, is sitting alone, Thor will come over to their table, plop down, and order them a drink on him.

Thor 2. Lowtown

"It can't cost that much," Thor says to the shopkeeper, eyes a little narrow. He has a feeling the guy is trying to rob him... but Thor hasn't spent a lot of time handling day-to-day funds and expenses before. It's all been estate stuff that he signs off on. Haggling for a rather nice-looking cloak is a new challenge, and he finds himself glancing around to see if anyone will help weigh in on the topic.

Thor 3. Gallows

Evening is falling as Thor takes a guard post by the Gallows docks, leaning against a handy bit of wall and actively watching the people coming and going.

"Nearly curfew," he calls out to what looks like a Rifter considering getting on the boat. There's no heat to his voice. In fact, it sounds a little curious. He's wondering how the Rifters are taking the recent news and if it's chafing just yet.

--
[Feel free to make your own prompt for Anders or Thor too if you'd like.]

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He finds her in the garden after many days of putting it off. It's hard to talk about his past, it's hard to risk losing another friend, but she'd asked and delaying does no good to either of them.

"Is now a good time?" he asks as he approaches, figuring she's heard him coming. "I thought we might have the talk that... that we discussed previously."

There's been an upswell of emotions, and they're... not all positive. There's also been a distinct absence of a certain elf around the place, as far as Anders has seen, which spurs him over to Vandelin's rooms to knock on the door.

"Van? Are you in there?"

The sun is just barely coming up when he knocks lightly on Kostos' door. His bags are packed, and he has an extra two large bundles for their horses.

"Kostos? Ready to set out?" Maybe he should have established a time to hit the road first. Probably he should have. But hindsight is basically worthless when he's already knocking and talking at the door.

He brings tea. A change in position doesn't mean that tea should end. The opposite, really, it means that tea is needed more than ever, when she's up for it. Anders drops by where Petrana stays now, managing a sort of knock on her door with the toe of his boot since his hands are full.

"Tea service?" he calls, sounding amused with himself.

He stares at his brother when he drags himself home, torn between worry and anger.

"What happened?" Who hurt Loki? Why? Does Thor have to go beat someone up, or did Loki pick the fight? ...Though it's not like Loki picking the fight would really weaken Thor's protective feelings for his little brother. If attempts by Loki to kill him didn't, nothing would.

"Come in, sit down, let me see if I can help."

Iorveth's come for the sake of potions and herbs, knowing the infirmary tends to keep quality ones, and he's fairly insistent on giving well earned coin in exchange for them, after hearing so many site the Inquisition's hospitality as a reason Rifters ought to submit to their blood being taken for phylacteries. He'll take nothing from these people out of proposed kindness anymore.

The question he's asked while making the exchange pulls a loud, sharp laugh from him. Hilarious, Anders.

"Not even nearly."

Not only is it a Rifter he's calling out to, but an elf. One that's pretty clearly a Rifter, because he's an elf that's 6'3", and no native elf gets that tall, or walks around as heavily armed as he is - two curved swords rested on either hip, a dagger strapped to his chest, a longer one on his belt, a quiver of arrows and bow that's a large, complicated, ornate looking thing. He's left the chainmail at Thranduil's for then time being, and more of the layers of clothing, but the weapons will always be on his person if he can help it.

Hearing the man call out, Iorveth hadn't actually been considering getting on the boat, was more just wondering with his thoughts, looking down into the water below to look for fish swimming around the pier, maybe for herbs he'd hear grew on the sea bed. But then some bitch reminds him of the curfew imposed on him, something that would've been enough for him to put an arrow between his eyes, were this his own home. Here, especially after all the talk of phylacteries, isn't mostly just obnoxious. Especially from this gold plated fucker. W e l p.

"Thank you, mother, hadn't realized it was so close to my bedtime." He calls out from the edge of the dock his stepping closer and closer towards. "What are you planning to do should I decide to skip it tonight?"

Loki, chagrinned and bitter, and still rubbing a hand over the side of his face, is torn between confronting and yelling his brother and simply scuttling away. He settles on the latter, it seems better given how uncertain his is about his own healing skills in relation to his face, and waves Thor off with one hand as he heads toward the stairs. His hand doesn't actually uncover the segment of his face that he'd been forced to re-close.

"No, no, I'm fine. It's fine."

The fact that Loki's clothing is stained, neck down to his waist with red is something of a statement to how not fine he was.

He probably should have guessed, considering what he's heard from this elf in particular. Anders shakes his head, handing over the herbs.

"I know a few have found it. I'm hoping to ask questions of them and see if there are lessons to be learned, but sometimes it seems futile." He exhales. "I'm Anders, by the way. We've spoken briefly, but we've not exchanged names. I... was actually hoping to see you in person, after you spoke on the crystals."

Normally he travels light when he's walking through Kirkwall. It's practical if he's suddenly being chased, and also there's rarely a need to carry a lot. This time, though, he's wearing a heavy backpack that's filled with books and paper and ink, and topped by a cat that was desperate to accompany him.

He reaches Cyril (and Sam's) house and knocks at the door, hoping he doesn't look too much out of place.

Cyril answers and smiles when he sees Anders. "Welcome," he says as he steps aside to let him in. "I put on some tea to help clear our heads while we worked."

He eyes the elf, amused and showing it openly as he shrugs his large shoulders. This is another of the Galadriel sort, it seems... though her countrymen don't seem to go around quite this armed and bristling. Maybe not exactly her sort after all.

"Do you want me to have plans?" he calls back. The South is trying to impose new restrictions, and to Thor this has all sorts of potential. He's no political mastermind, but this is obviously going to be a point of contention, and if the Southern Chantry explodes over it that's a win for Tevinter. "I am supposed to stop you, but if you insist on climbing into the boat the guards on the other side can push you back in. Your regard or disregard for your own safety is your choice."

The Inquisition is needed to defeat Corypheus. He believes that absolutely. But after? It becoming a mess is promising.

"You are not fine," Thor objects, following Loki in. "You are dripping blood all over the floor and I know it is your own." An important distinction, considering where they come from. He calls for one of the sla--servants to come clean the floor as he continues pursuing his brother.

"Tell me what has happened, brother. Who has struck you?" What's even more concerning than the bleeding is the fact Loki's clothing is ruined. He'd never go out in something nice and risk ruining it if he had any choice, which actually suggests Loki might not have been the one to cause this.

He smiles back, ducking inside.

"Tea sounds lovely. Especially considering how complicated this might be. It's absolutely premature to think we might get somewhere from the start, but I'm hoping anyway. Shall I set up on the table?" He's already shifting the backpack to his elbow pits, ready to start unpacking. "And did you find any books on the topic?"

"That little elf wretch, the division lead," Loki snaps, unable to contain his frustration but still unwilling to turn and face Thor directly. He is grateful his brother called for a servant to see to the floor, but he's not about to say as much.

"Lost her mind and flung a dagger, nearly took out my eye."

"Too much power is not good for an elf's mind," Thor murmurs, still trailing. "It was bound to break. They piled responsibility upon her and thought they were doing a good thing."

He almost feels sorry for her. It's not her fault she's just a native elf, unable to handle the challenges of life.

"Did you leave her alive? There could be problems if she is dead."

Anders. That's right, the one Galatea mentioned - the mage that set an explosion in the Kirkwall Chantry. Iorveth hadn't yet decided if he held admiration for the man, for such a ballsy move, or not, given he's yet to get all the details on the event. He finds it difficult to blame him though, after all he's learned of the Chantry, and of Kirkwall specifically.

Either way, he'd like to learn more, and he extends a hand and forearm in greeting.

"Anders. Well met, my friend. I'm Iorveth." He knows the voice, and remembers the conversation. One of the few sympathetic ears he'd had both in the talk of Drakenborg, and the new proposed policy. "It's not often I find a human with such a dedicated mind to equality. A pleasant surprise, among very few I've had here."

"What's the point of saying anything if you don't have plans?" Put up or shut up, is basically what he's saying, head tilted like he's wondering at the actual threat Fabio McShinychest here really poses. He's certainly tall and willowy enough to be one of Galadriel's, but those ones all look elegant and flawless. Iorveth is a rough thing, and when he pulls at the piece of his headscarf covering his eye to tuck that piece into the rest of it, keeping only his hair back, there's an empty, burned out eyesocket underneath, with a gross scar stretching jagged down the side of his face, to his lips. Nothing you'll see on Thranduil or the others.

"That, however, would assume it's the boat I'm planning on getting on." It isn't.

Which is starting to look clear enough in how he's detaching the sword belt at his hips, tugging the quiver away and the holster for his bow over his shoulder. The quiver alone is dropped onto the deck at his feet, but the swords and bow are wrapped up together with the leather straps, cinching them together tightly so they're a single stable unit, before attaching them secure to his back again. The arrows he can always make more of, but like hell he's leaving his bow or swords behind for whatever moron human to happen upon.

Three guesses where he's planning on going, and the first two don't count.

They end up at Loki's room before long and he throws the door open with both hands, despite himself. His cheek has a very long red mark on it and while he turns to address Thor, he immediately returns to fussing with it and covering it.

"Of course I left her alive, I am no fool," Loki snaps and rubs his face. His green and black rooms are immaculate, as always, thanks to his Valet. "I even healed the wretch who attacked me. I was very genial."

He pauses and draws a tight breath.

"I think it might scar."

It is as close to an honest proclamation of worry as Loki is like to get.

He isn't asleep. So that's something.

But he isn't fully awake, either, having returned to his room no more than four hours ago, and being awake now only because Talas wakes with the dawn and has perched on his chest and is attempting to groom his stubble. He's doing his best to fall back asleep when there's the knock, and the words. It is only the fact that Talas startles easily that stops Kostos from raising his voice to tell Anders to go away. (Gareth is also asleep in one of the other beds, but that wouldn't stop him.)

So it takes a minute for him to open the door, halfway, and squint out of it, also halfway asleep and halfway dressed. There's a bite mark on his shoulder. The good kind. You know.

He says, "What?"

Edited (wait i have a better icon) 2018-05-13 07:25 (UTC)

Resa has no idea how much things are supposed to cost here. Even if she hadn't just recently fallen out of a hole in the sky, minor things like economics hadn't been her strong suit--not when taking things was a great deal easier. But what she does know is that this guy is 1) very cute and 2) in need of her help. So when he catches her eye, she barely stops to think about whether he's right or wrong.

What she does do is slide up to them, a charming smile on her face as she takes a few moments to appear to look closely over the cloak in question. Then she glances up at the shopkeeper, flashing a dazzling smile to him. "I think he's right, surely you could go down in price just a little bit? After all, if you keep the customer happy, he'll come back more often, and spend money here more often. It just makes sense, doesn't it?"

It's not the best argument that's ever been given for getting a discount, but the shopkeeper seems unable to argue with it, nevertheless. Slowly, he nods, and mutters his agreement, which makes Resa flash that dazzling grin at Thor in turn. "And there you go!" Amazing, what a little application of magical charm can do.

Edited 2018-05-13 07:48 (UTC)

Vandelin is nothing if not good at secluding himself and stubbornly waiting out anyone he doesn't want to talk to, and if that means he needs to waste away in self-imposed imprisonment rather than interact with another rifter ever again, then he's going to do exactly that.

(Until he needs to go procure cat food, anyway. Starving himself is one thing, but he'd never impose such a fate on poor loyal Embrium.)

It is best, of course, that he be talked out of this, but there are approximately three people in Kirkwall who could possibly manage it. Fortunately, Anders is one of them. There is a lengthy pause, and finally an answer.

"For the foreseeable future." He sounds deceptively cheerful enough.

The room she opens to welcome him into is a comfortable space, now—still not entirely unpacked, and the enormous desk that had so dominated her office is slightly out of place put directly beside her bathtub and its screen (but Melys had been determined—), but he will see in it the personal touches he'd helped her choose, and she's making the best of her changed circumstance.

(Where did all of these belongings come from? How much she accumulates, in a year.)

“Anders,” she greets him, warmly, rising on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek and to offer her hands that she might unburden him of some of all that. “Come—sit.”

He sighs, heading toward a low table with various cremes and starting to sort through them. Really, he can't fault his brother for vanity. They're both a little vain. Only specific sorts of scars on the face are attractive, and this isn't that sort. After a few moments Thor finds what he'd expected to find, a healing salve and moisturizer from Tevinter that's far from cheap, and comes over to Loki.

"We will make certain it does not scar. Hold still." He'll be careful as he applies it, using his meager healing abilities to try to enhance its effectiveness. Loki has earned this, leaving Beleth alive even though killing her for an attack would be justified by everyone they represent.

"Do you feel that this warrants a statement?" Loki getting in a fight is a day ending in y. Loki being attacked by someone in an appointed position is a little more, and Beleth is already on thin ice with him after her exploration of their house.

...Is the elf going to swim? Thor is torn. He wants to see the elf jump into the frigid water and probably realize he's made a horrible mistake, but what if this one is used to water like that? He does have a job to do even if he'd prefer to watch the Inquisition stumble.

Thor sighs and comes over toward the elf, reaching out to thunk a large hand on his shoulder. It's not out of friendliness. The weight of it is meant to discourage this elf from being rash, as elves are wont to do. They need guidance and help, all aside from Galadriel's group, and their lack of it is part of why the South is such a mess.

"I am only in these lands for as long as the Inquisition does not have reason to demand my departure, which means I am not going to allow you to jump in and swim from the island. Turn around, go inside, and enjoy your evening off. Eat their food and lounge in their hot water. You may as well make them pay for the restrictions the South is so fond of."

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[Open] Irregular Mages Ahoy

Nari

Vandelin

Kostos

Petrana

Loki

Anders 3 - Infirmary

Thor 3 - Gallows

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Cyril

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Thor, 2

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