faderift | run boy run

WHO: Gareth and YOU
WHAT: Gareth adjusting to being back from his surprise extended stay in Tevinter
WHEN: The week or so after the rescue
WHERE: Around the Gallows
NOTES: Probably gonna be talk about trauma and how not to deal with it, gareth being gareth, etc etc

i. work

Gareth is a ghost.

He is, however, a ghost with a job, and while his superiors (Salvio? Thranduil? Whatever) would probably be willing to give him a few days off to get over the whole...captive thing, he would prefer to have something to do. Something to occupy his mind, his hands. He's had plenty of time to sit around in a small room.

So he idles around the library, or more accurately, lurks, fidgeting with books in the background, rearranging them, making sure everything is where it should be. He stays away from anyone else, stays silent, and close to the shelves, as though he can make himself invisible simply by not speaking or getting too close to anyone.

When not at the library, he's in one of the vaults, or poking around at one of the old, dusty corners of the cellars of the Gallows, inventorying and tidying. There usually isn't much company in these places, which means anyone who comes here will probably be trying to seek him out to speak.

ii. night

He doesn't sleep much. Dreams provide little comfort, and there's always an unpleasant lurch when he first opens his eyes, wondering if that cell will greet him again.

So, he makes his way to the shore, book in hand. Because, if you're not going to be doing something for a few hours, you might as well read. If the moon doesn't provide enough light to read by, he simply raises the hand with the anchor shard in it, soft green light spilling over the pages.

iii. break
[[ooc note: closed to close cr only!]]

At some point, something in him snaps. Something that had been repressed since he was first captured, waiting to come out, snarling and angry and hurting. He doesn't wait for the Gallows to fall again to let it out, and takes his staff into the training room, hoping to burn that energy on something constructive.

But it isn't enough. Each time his staff makes contact with the training dummy, he imagines a new face, the Venatori, Corypheus, even the ones who broke him in the first place. Templars, Meredith, even Orsino, and it's not enough, he has to hurt them more, give them that yawning pain that he had to live through, that he had to relive, that seems to never leave him.

Fire and thunder break out, sizzling across his staff at first, and then growing stronger as he lashes out with all the mana he can muster, until it runs out and Gareth, with one final swing to the now rather singed dummy, falls to his knees, panting. It doesn't feel better. Not like hurting the Templars did, during the war. Like seeing the people who sought to strike him down fall to their own comrades sword. But he's supposed to be better now.

He doesn't feel better.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"What happened isn't a reflection on you." Slowly she reaches out, and sets a hand on Gareth's wrist, easier to pull away from than a hand on the shoulder, is her reasoning. "And they will pay for what they did."

Somehow she says that latter point in a way that is very gentle, for all the vengefulness simmering in her veins. For a moment she is quiet, as she tries to weigh up how best to go on.

"I thought... I had hoped that some parts of Tevinter might be a means to better things for us. There might be something valuable or useful in what they have, or that it could even be a refuge when all is done with the Inquisition, but I think perhaps this is a view that I must change. That was naive, Gareth. That you endured capture again, that is not humiliation. That is strength, even if things are too painful for you to see this now. We are only flesh and blood, but you have steel in you, as well."

The idea that they'll pay, and that he won't be the only one who will be exacting vengeance from them, soothes him somewhat. It probably shouldn't, he should be better about this, but he doesn't want to be better. Why does he have to, when they haven't?

"I know how you feel. I remember watching entertainers in the street doing magic, and it was just so--amazing. To see people watching someone perform magic without fear, or worry." He looks down for a few moments, trying to reconcile those memories, and all the memories of the trip, before things got terrible. Mage as a natural part of society, but--

The Venatori. People like Benedict's mother. Did you have to have people like them, in order to have a place like Tevinter?

"I don't feel very steely. But--thank you. I guess I did manage to live through it. Which is something." His life has been one shitshow after another, but he's managed to live through them all. Despite everything, he'd survived. Maybe that wasn't so bad.

Her smile is gentle, as she slowly reaches out, brushing back some of his hair.

"It is. That doesn't make me less sorry that you suffered, but... in time, when the wounds have had time to heal, you can look back at this and know that what other people do to you doesn't define you. You, your strength, that is what defines you."

A little sigh, as she looks at her sweet, dear friend, so much like a younger brother in some ways, and so utterly foreign in others. "Would you like to stay at mine, for a time? A chance to be away from the Gallows, until you feel better?"

Gareth closes his eyes as she touches his hair, and wonders how long it's been since someone has touched him like this, platonic but caring, all the same.

He wonders at her words, though. If they're true, if he hasn't been letting what other people did to him define him. What the Chantry, what Circles, what Templars did, not just to him individually, but to all of them. But it's nice to think that it's his strength, that it's what he's good at, and who he is. So he doesn't argue.

Maybe if he believes it enough, it'll be true.

"...You wouldn't mind?" It definitely sounds appealing, though it might make things...weird? With Kostos? But whatever. Kostos would probably like having his room back for a while. "I'd like that. And I mean--I can help out around the house, too. And I'll dress nicely, so your neighbors don't report me to the guard for trying to break in. My cat can come too, right?"

"You know I'd not offer if I would. And you are like a little brother to me, Gareth. I don't want to see my family unhappy or uncomfortable."

She leans forward, and kisses his forehead. "Your cat can come, but we may need to make sure they understand that flamingoes are not for chasing. We must make sure both are feline and avian friends are safe from one another, but I think that can be done. And there is no need for you to help out around the house, but I can certainly make sure you are supplied with proper Hightown dress."

Marisol offers him a slightly brighter smile. "When was the last time you ate?"

run boy run

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject