faderift | [OPEN] I can't get by pretending it's okay

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[OPEN] I can't get by pretending it's okay

WHO: Bruce ~~Banner~~ and Anybody Else
WHAT: Everything Is Fine And Nothing Is Wrong: a premier by Bruce
WHEN: Haring 16 onwards
WHERE: All over Skyhold
NOTES: Mostly open post through the rest of December - prompts and such are under the cut. I'm starting in brackets, but feel free to switch to prose and I will follow accordingly! Also warning for angst and Bruce being Bruce.

one. making the rounds. (courtyards, most of skyhold)

[Almost one week later, Bruce still can't quite shake off the entire incident from his mind. Or rather, he can't shake off the image of the dead mage in his head when he finally made it out of the garden, the poor soul gone for good after what Adelaide and the others had done.

He couldn't blame them, of course - they were only doing what was necessary, what was right - but all the same it still reminded Bruce of the reality of what he was and how people would perceive him if they ever knew the truth. The moment they knew... nothing would ever be quite the same, that he was certain of.

He tries not to dwell on it too much, but it continues to haunt him through the day as he does his daily rounds. Having denied himself the use of his magic save for that one time with Cole, Bruce is still healing from the injuries he suffered from the abomination. There're bandages around his head and arms and chest (although the last is hidden underneath his clothing) but Bruce doesn't let those get in his way, just as he doesn't let the occasional throb or ache of pain from his still healing ribs stop him from doing his work. Some of his more familiar patients do ask him about it, but Bruce is quick to brush them off and turn the attention back to themselves. They are all far more important than he will ever be, after all.]

two. fixing the garden. (the garden)

[With how things had been that night the abomination had more or less left a good part of the garden damaged. That, of course, included the herbs that had been growing, which was most likely going to cause some issues in the near future.

Still, at least its not like they're gone forever. Bruce drops by the garden whenever he can, helping to get the earth ready once more so that a new batch of herbs can be planted with the hope that they'll grow properly and without interruption this time around. It hard labor, yes, but at least the work helps Bruce to temporarily keep his mind off the more dangerous lines of thoughts that he knows he shouldn't dwell on. How long that works, though, is another thing entirely.]

three. midnight wanderings. (battlements and library)

[The thoughts never leave him, not really, and Bruce knows full well that he's going to have to deal with a good while of not being able to sleep properly. Sleepless nights are practically an old friend to him now.

That doesn't mean he will let himself waste his time - since he is awake he might as well make full use of what he has. On some nights he can be found on the battlements, brewing potions up there in the quiet that's only broken by the footsteps of the night patrol. On other nights he might in the library instead, perusing several books and if one manages to catch him at the right time, will see that it pertains to abominations and other such things related to them.]

wildcard.

[Feel free to throw in your own prompt or PM/contact me to plot out stuff!]

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Their gardens... their poor gardens, with the newly begun collection of rare herbs, with her wisteria, the flowers she'd cultivated so nicely. They were dug up or burned out or damaged by magic, and after all the hard work they'd done.

Sina had come to visit as soon as she'd been well enough to walk, and had promptly dropped to her knees and wept at the sight of it. It was the one part of Skyhold that had been starting to resemble a home, and she couldn't have predicted how much it hurt to see it all but demolished. This compounded with the terrifying memory of the abomination, how it had erupted into being right here in front of her; it was too much.

When Bruce entered the cloister he would be met with the kneeling Sina's back to him while she hunched over and sobbed into her hands.

Ariadne liked to keep busy. And she liked to keep a low profile. It resulted in a lot of simple labor, a lot of fetching and carrying. Occasionally, she would play her flute for the children.

But she had a talent far greater than music (or stealing, but that was another story) and it was gardening. It was a private little joke back home that she had a green thumb. Mostly since all her fingers had been green before coming through the Rift and it took her forever to actually understand what the expression meant.

When she could, she'd try to lend her services to gardening and planting and reaping. It was good to be connected to the land, even if it wasn't her own. And she was enjoying learning all about the new herbs and flowers.

It was something of a surprise to see Bruce there that afternoon. Not that she minded. Any familiar face, at this point, was something of a comfort for her.

"Hello, Sir Bruce," she said, bowing her head.

The gardens - or at least the most of it - were all going to need a complete makeover after the damage that it had been sustained. Bruce already did his best to get a start on with along with anybody else willing to help, but it was clear that any semblance of proper gardening was going to take a while to begin once more.

That didn't mean they couldn't try to push it as much as possible. With some spare time on his hands Bruce decided to use on the garden - but he certainly didn't expect anybody else, so when he was finally there he blinked in surprise at the sight of the elf there... and then quickly became concerned when he heard her sobs.

"--are you alright?" he quickly asks after moving to her with equal swiftness. He doesn't make a move to touch her, not wanting to cause even more distress, but he does stay close, crouching down as well so that it would be easier for her to talk to him.

Bruce looked up at the somewhat familiar voice, blinking for a moment before he could put a name to the face that he was seeing. A lot had happened recently, and even the Herald's funeral seemed like something so long ago although it was only two months before.

"Hello," he returned, doing his best to manage a smile back in return. "Are you here to help with the garden?" It could certainly use with whatever help it could get - the abomination's attack had more or less upturned all of the work put into it, and with the winter getting harsher it was going to be harder to grow anything at all, now. If they could even manage a fraction of what had been going it would be of great help.

They'd tried, he and the elf woman. They'd pulled and dumped the buckets as quickly as they could, but still so much had been lost.

Maxwell stood in the garden, surveying the damage, his shoulders slumped glumly. The corner he'd made for himself had mostly survived, but the trunk of the tree was blackened and the grass and flowers were withered and the belongings he hadn't been able to grab had been singed and scorched. The candle he'd left out, waiting for Gavin, had melted into a pale puddle, looking like a strange stone upon the ground.

He nudged it free from the earth with the toe of his boot and bent to pick it up with a heavy sigh.

Gavin had somehow managed to fall asleep in the little corner between the wall of the battlement and the tower, and was snoring quietly to himself between shivers. He wasn't on duty or anything, he was just exhausted, but this was a particularly bad place to fall asleep as it was not warm at all, and since he hadn't intended on sleeping, he hadn't brought a blanket.

So it was either a very cold gust of wind or the sound of Bruce coming up the stairs that startled him awake, and then made him sneeze. He looked up blearily, and offered Bruce a sleepy smile.

"Oh, Hey Bruce. How's it going?"

Bruce had went off momentarily to bring out some of the ruined stuff outside where they could be dealt with later, and when he returned was surprised to find somebody else suddenly here. He didn't seem to be somebody who Bruce was familiar with.

He watched for a moment as the other person bent down and picked up something he couldn't quite see from where he was. Did he lose something? Bruce did find a collection of relatively intact items, so maybe...

"Are you looking for something?" he asks, as politely as possible as he makes his way to the newcomer, making sure to announce his presence so that the other party wouldn't get startled.

Maxwell's head came up with a little jerk, caught a bit by surprise by the sudden voice. He'd been so deep in the sad little pit in his gut he hadn't even realized someone had approached.

"No, no." Shaking his head, he tried to find a small smile. "I'm just... cleaning up."

He gestured with the hand holding the hardened wax puddle to the area in front of him, sighing a breath through his nose.

A bedroll tucked against the scorched tree, the bottom burned away into jagged, flaking edges. Browned books, a blanket with several holes, the blackened bags - a pair - hanging from one of the tree's lower branches.... Everything Maxwell had had, save for the bow and quiver upon his back.

Edited 2015-12-17 14:07 (UTC)

By all accounts Gavin was probably the last person that Bruce expected to see right there and then - but there he was, popping up where Bruce least expected it. Not that it was a bad thing, but Bruce wasn't entirely sure if he was up for company.

Considering how things were the last time, though, Bruce didn't quite have the heart to really try and turn him away. Instead he simply gave the elf a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, hoping that the darkness was enough to disguise the things he didn't want Gavin to see.

"It's alright." A total lie, of course, but if Bruce wanted to be honest pretty much every day of his life now was a lie in some fashion. But right now it just felt like it was all too transparent, from the aches in his body to the bandages that were still on him. He looked just about as good as he felt right now, which was bad - if not actually worse.

She nodded, quite enthusiastic. Where others saw destruction and mayhem, Ariadne saw potential. It was the same back home. When they managed to liberate even the smallest bit of land from the Red Dragon--an occurrence happening less and less--Ariadne was always impressed by the way people pulled together to take care of that land.

Just proof that her beliefs were well-founded. There was love and goodness in everyone.

"Back home, they say I have a 'green thumb,'" she told him, looking a bit too pleased with herself for getting the expression right.

At least...she hoped she'd gotten it right.

Reading by candlelight is supposed to be horrible for one's eyes, but there are fewer distractions after dark when most everyone else has gone off to bed (or the tavern, or patrol, or...) for the evening. And after the most recent incident in Skyhold, Alfsigr feels it's prudent to brush up on some of her magical knowledge.

The tricky thing is that she doesn't want anyone to think that she isn't prepared to defend herself from possession. Another benefit of the hour. So she stands among the shelves with a candlestick in hand, squinting at the spines of books, reading their titles. Shouldn't the tome she wants be right about here? She was certain she saw it there last week...

[ All that has changed and she has not forgotten their brief meetings to sit quietly and drink tea, perhaps eat, and simply be. Though over the past few days they've both been sitting tense and to be quite frank, Bruce is one of the few people she'll let on that the aches from the burn linger. He's not beholden to her in any way, he owes her nothing, expects nothing. It makes him safe.

On time she ducks into his tent to fetch him, hissing as she straightens. ]

Come now, Bruce. We have both been working overlong today.

"It's all ruined," Sina whimpered, "everything we did-- all the rare herbs..." She caught her breath and rubbed at her eyes, wanting to collect herself now that someone else was here. "...we've worked so hard," she continued, but trailed off, pressing her hand to the still-aching shard in her chest. She was no longer sobbing, but tears still streamed from her eyes as she slowly and carefully got up.

"Excuse me." His voice is hushed as he gets up from where he'd been leaning against the wall and comes over to the bandaged man. He knows he looks a little rough and ragged around the edges, but being on the run did that. "Could you use some help?"

Maybe he should stick to the shadows a little longer, keep a closer eye on the place while he decides how safe it is or isn't, but neither Anders nor Justice feel good about not helping out when someone clearly could use it. One day it might get him killed. So be it. He'd already lived past when he expected. At least he wouldn't be utterly stupid and use the name that everyone knew.

"I'm a healer, Detlef, only just arrived. If you'd like I can take a look at what you've got wrapped."

Bruce pauses in the middle of his walk at the unfamiliar voice, and then he turns, blinking at the stranger who's moving off from the wall he had apparently been leaning on. He looks entirely haggard and more like he could use some taking care himself rather than Bruce, but he doesn't voice that thought aloud. Bruce was hardly one to speak. Still, the offer of help was appreciated, even if Bruce did have to turn it down.

"It's fine," he returned with a shake of his head. "I'll heal up in time." He gave a smile, then, wanting to reassure the stranger that it wasn't any of his fault. "But I appreciate the offer. You should turn to others who need that healing more than I do, however."

[In some strange way, Bruce has come to appreciate the daily ritual of sorts he has with Adelaide. It's strange because Bruce has never really allowed himself much of a schedule since his time in the Circle, and settling into Skyhold altogether has been a strange experience for him - even back in Haven things were still more hectic, everybody simply doing their own thing.

Bruce can't say that it's an entirely bad thing, though.

He makes sure to be in his tent when Adelaide comes for him, and hearing her hiss sends a pang of sympathy through him. Bruce knows entirely well that he could do more, and probably should, but there was no way he could risk his presence being discovered. It was always a hard struggle, and one that Bruce was not fond of.]

Pretty sure you've been working longer than I have. [He says quietly, and only with the small tinge of amusement as he makes a move to follow her out. He's got his bag with him, of course, since he'll probably do his rounds again right after he's done with Adelaide.]

It's hardly a surprise that the whole incident with the abomination nags at Bruce, although his reasons are probably different from anybody else's. It rattles him with just how violently they're suppressed (even though he knows its necessary), and--there has to be a way, some how. Bruce knows that he himself is beyond saving but if there was a way to help others, to make sure that none of them end up just like he did...

That's the thought that drives him tonight, as he sits in the library, a book on his lap that he studies as closely as possible. This tome he had found had been particularly informative, and Bruce tries to digest as much of it as he could, hoping that somewhere in this book was an idea of how to help others in the future, to make sure that this whole thing would not happen again.

Bruce turned his gaze in the direction of where the other man was gesturing towards, blinking as he takes in the sight that the man was seeing. The ruined bedroll, the burnt books, all those ruined belongings....

Ah.

He shifted his gaze back to the man, an apologetic look crossing his face now. "...I'm sorry," he said softly, and it was impossible to not feel the guilt rising up inside. This poor man, who basically lost all of his things because of this... Bruce couldn't help but feel responsible even though he knows everything was beyond his control. But whenever it came to abominations Bruce always felt personally responsible for it, given his own history.

"I--" he starts again, hesitant, wanting to offer his help but not being very sure if it would be accepted. He doesn't want to cause even more distress than the man was already clearly going through. "Is there anything that you need? I do not have much myself, but if there's anything I can provide..."

The enthusiasm is perhaps, a little bit strange, but at the same time its not inherently a bad thing and Bruce manages a smile at that as well as her words, plus the way she looks so pleased with herself. Its strangely endearing, in its own way.

"Anybody with a talent for gardening would be very helpful right now," he returned, giving a small nod as he said that. They might have lost all their work, but perhaps starting from scratch, they could make it better than before.

It was painful, to see everything they had done all lost like this. And it wasn't just their work either - it was the culmination of efforts done by so many other people, and now some of them too were lost because of the abomination. It was a loss that would be felt by many, both in the short and the long run.

Bruce waited for the elf to collect herself, standing back up as well when she did, giving a small nod in agreement to her words, but keeping his voice soft as he speaks. "It may be hard, but the best we can do is try to move on. We've still got some seeds that we can use, and perhaps building the garden again from ground up will help us with making a better, more resilient garden." Just as how starting again in Skyhold had helped the Inquisition too, in its own way. They might have lost the Herald but everyone was still striving on, trying their best to keep the idea of what they came here to do alive.

I have much for which I must answer.

[ Killing an abomination, letting it happen in the first place- as though she could ward all mages in Skyhold from demons with the force of her will. Finding a solution, finding an answer, finding a way to protect them- all building their political arguments on the bones of the dead.

Perhaps if she were of the Mortalitasi it would bother her less. As it is she motions for Bruce to follow the short way between their tents. The chairs are sturdier now, less prone to wobble. The tea darker, richer, the butter and bread warmer for their direct delivery from the kitchens. Her students trying to mind her. She cannot begrudge them their attempts. ]

[Its amazing, really, how much Adelaide puts on her shoulders, so many weights and responsibilities she never asked for but holds onto nevertheless. Bruce hasn't gone near any of the mage council meetings (there was no reason for him to, after all), but with each one that happens Bruce can only see the pressure increasing, the wrinkles on her brow getting deeper. It must be hard, and Bruce wishes that he could help. But of course, he can't - not when there's so much at risk.

He steps into the tent after her, following her cue to settle down. In the last few visits a good number of her things inside the tent have been swapped for something better, and this time apparently it included the food. Even the bread is still warm, which is something Bruce doesn't get often, if ever - more often than not by the time he does eat everything is cold and stale.

He reaches for the bread first, taking a slice along with some butter and spreading it out.] I hope you've been taking care of yourself. [He says, voice soft, placing the slice of bread on Adelaide's plate once he's done putting the butter.]

[ She's slow to sit- she's slow to move in any way as of late; the skin on her back tight and hot from healing. No matter how many pulses of Compassion's power she runs along the surface there is nothing for it but time and patience. Ignoring the ache is becoming yet another layer on her focus exercises she does each morning. While she comes away from her meditations certain and, indeed, focused- she has not come away refreshed since the incident.

Since Lauren.

Bruce offering her the plate first when normally it's the other way around- it pulls a thin smile from her. ]

Thank you. And...I try to remember to, but it is likely I am not being as mindful as I ought. There is too much that needs to be done.

[ As many as there are that need to do it- they are all of varying opinions and someone must help them find middle ground. When that became her job she can't remember. Still. She pours the tea and offers Bruce a jar of jam and the last dregs of the honeycomb from earlier in the month. ]

How are your injuries?

[ Sam spends a long while just kneeling in the dirt - longer than he should have, anyhow, with so much work to do.

But as he'd stepped into the garden and seen the awful state of it, he couldn't help but think of the images he'd seen in Lady Galadriel's mirror - crops and flowers alike crushed and snapped by heavy boots and trees ripped up by their roots. He'd thought himself safe here; not as safe as he'd felt in Rivendell or Lorien, perhaps, but safe enough. Now...now he's not so sure. And the gardens! It's such a waste.

Wiping away a stray tear, he sniffles heavily and gets to work, though he's perhaps a bit slower and more glum than usual as he starts gathering up the ruined plants, careful to check over them for any seeds that may yet be of use as he clears the ground for new plantings. ]

[Its not as if Bruce is entirely innocent himself - he, too, is covered in injuries, all of them just hidden away with bandages that wrap around him. The worst of it is hidden by his clothes but there are wrappings around his head and on both of his arms - scrapes and bruises he had taken when the abomination not-so-kindly smashed into him. His ribs are still healing as well, but Bruce has always been good at suppressing his own pain - a learned trick from his years on the run.]

Well, it still won't help anybody if you collapse yourself. [A lot of people depend on you, he almost adds, but stops himself from doing so. Most likely she already does know, and reminding of that isn't going to help.

He takes his tea with a murmured thanks and accepts the jam and honeycomb--even though really she needs it more than he does. He doesn't want to turn her kindness down, however, and compromises by only using a little bit of each on his own bread before he passes it back to her.]

They're healing up fine. [He gives her a smile after that, hoping that would reassure her.] You should be more concerned about your own injuries. You had to face the abomination head on, after all.

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[OPEN] I can't get by pretending it's okay

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Gardens

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three; library

One - Courtyard

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andersssss

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more gardens I'm sorry

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