faderift | because it doesn't make sense for me to cry out in my own defense

WHO: Colin, Alexandrie, Anders, Loki, Kostos, Myrobalan
WHAT: Colin gives up.
WHEN: The evening after the news of the new Divine reaches Kirkwall.
WHERE: Alexandrie de la Fontaine's apartments.
NOTES: CW: Suicide attempt. Physical violence will ensue. Mentions of past sexual violence.

Hearing her name doesn't change anything. He doesn't think he even feels anything at that point--wouldn't know for sure, though, because he doesn't bother to ask himself. He just floats. Quietly closes the apothecary early for the day and posts a sign. Stares down the hallway. Stands still for so long that someone bumps into him on their way. The walls are narrow and cold, still with remnants of the old history in their stains and accents. You can see the marks where there were slave reliefs taken down. And in the old days, at the end of the hall, there would be a door locked and barred.

He drifts down the hallway, stopping to look closely at all the evidence of those who died here, slaves and mages alike. Flattens a palm against the stone as if, across the mirror of the Veil, someone from long ago is touching that same stone. It used to be too much to think about, but it doesn't hurt him now. Not as long as he makes it down the hallway before they lock the door.

The ferry skims over the water streaked pale gold by the late afternoon light. Smoke from the foundry district blows over it as Colin passes through like a ghost, looking back at the Gallows and wondering how many people are there whom he should speak to. He didn't pass any of them on the way to the ferry, so it must not be meant to be. If they can't catch him as he flits away like a moth, he isn't capable of turning around to give them another chance, or seek them out. This hallway is too narrow for him to travel in any direction but one.

The apartment is familiar and lovely, spotless and comfortable. It still feels like the last place he belongs, but he has never belonged anywhere except the place he was taken from too long ago to belong there again. He goes to the little trinket box on a side table and opens it, taking out the cool, smooth contents.

The flask is altogether unremarkable, but his spirit balks at the sight of it because of the color of saffron, the taste of smoke, the dappled pattern of the sun through trees, the gleam of laughter in a friend's eyes. He doesn't have to do this. He can toss it out a window. But his spirit balks at the thought of that, because he remembers climbing into a wall, and being flung against one. He remembers the shreds of an apprentice's robe hanging on the body of an abomination. He remembers frightened Templars shutting and barring the great doors. He remembers the taste of Ser Lutair's spit and seed both, and how to make sure to cover his knees from the cold stone as he got down on them. He remembers ghosting through hallways just like he did today, and for four years, no one stopping him to talk to him. No one asking if something was wrong, or looking closely enough to see it for themselves. No one coming to help, no rescue, only a threat that if he didn't shape up, he would end up Tranquil. Which didn't turn out to be such a bad suggestion. So since there was no escaping his torturer, and showing any signs of being tortured would have earned punishment, he turned himself Tranquil. He spent years as a corpse walking down that empty hallway, unseen and unloved.

He won't go back to it, and he won't shiver through a year or two of war knowing what's coming will be even worse for him. He has always been his only source of mercy, and this is his call. This will be the last time he dies.

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There's something truly awful about the scenario Anders paints, and he doesn't even know it. How unbearable it would be for them both, to be dogged and to dog someone. The loss of agency. That sense of your friends being your enemies. He couldn't bear that with Anders.

"You did fight for my life," he says quietly. "You're not...going to do any of that now, are you?"

"I don't want to," he says, equally as quietly. Anders watches Colin for a few moments before he gets back up.

"Will you fight for your life?" It would be exhausting. He'd be something of a jailer, and the thought is beyond repulsive. Is keeping someone alive like that worth it?

"That's all I've been doing," Colin says incredulously. He never thought of it this way, but it's the truth, and it spills out with grief and anger. "That's the problem."

Hands come up to clutch at the line of his hair above his forehead, tearing at the roots.

"I fight, and I fight, and just living is too much to ask for. It's all I want, is to have a world I can live in, and nobody wants that."

"Well, yes."

He'd start the check-up, but this isn't actually the moment. It's not like Colin is in immediate danger when he's kept the water down. Anders' voice is gentle as he sits right back down.

"We were born mages, and like those born elves, us surviving and having lives is too much to ask for many. Every day is a fight until the world changes, and it may not do so in either of our lifetimes. I won't claim I've never wanted to lay down and stop fighting." There's the shortest of beats. "And to be truly honest, I'd have stopped a couple of times but Justice prevented it. I don't blame you for trying to stop. I can't. But I also... I don't want to lose you."

A tear rolls down one cheek. Colin wipes it away.

"I guess I'm not yet used to mattering to anyone." A sniffle. "It means a lot for you to say. I didn't want to lose you, either, I just...I have no hope. And I couldn't bear the pain of it."

Justice. It brings back the conversation he had with Alexandrie. He clenches his jaw and gives himself a nod.

"Alexandrie is going to talk with you about, about the Templar who..." he hesitates, wanting to choose a vague word, but he decides to use the actual word instead "...who abused me. If you can find him, she and a friend will do the rest."

He's quiet for a few moments before he nods.

"I've killed many people. Some of them I regret very much, and some of them I don't, at all. If I'm needed for more in this particular matter, I'd not regret any part of it." Killing isn't something he takes joy in. He'd worry if he ever did. But ending the lives of Templars who harmed mages, especially Templars who harmed mages he cared personally about, was satisfying. There is little hope, so eliminating the worst while they can is entirely practical.

"Hope is... hard. But our fight is not yet over so long as we draw breath and have friends."

A grim smile and a nod.

"We might not kill him. His father's a bann. But I want justice. I can live in a world where there's justice, even if it's justice I have to make for myself." His gaze falls. "Lexie asked if I want to come, too. I haven't decided."

Now he's quiet for another reason. What justice can be had that leaves the man alive? If he still drew breath, he'd seek to cause pain again, feeling all the more justified.

"I'd only come if you're ready for whatever must be done," he says slowly. The last thing he wants to do is put the thought of the man coming after him in Colin's mind. "Who is the third?"

Hopefully not Lexie's partner.

"Byerly Rutyer." A breath in, a breath out. "He'll know how to disgrace a bann's son. Hopefully Lutair's family won't care whatever happens to him after. But I've already paid for what he's done with...everything I have. I won't die for him. Justice actually works for people like him."

A slow nod. Destroy him first, that makes sense. But once destroyed he absolutely couldn't be left alive. There'd be nothing left to lose. Anders will seek the others' opinions on the matter, to be sure, but an abusive Templar is not one that should be left standing.

...then again, if he didn't have any legs, he couldn't stand or hurt anyone. It isn't a thought he's proud of, but he feels it might be practical. And also for later.

"And justice is important. It always has been, and this will be seen to." At least he can say that with certainty. "We'll take the rest one day at a time. I'm... With the way things are going, we've some thinking to do, but we can't be completely rash about it."

"Justice," Colin says softly, "and I can't go back to a Circle with him in it. Nobody should. If he's brought to justice, I'll know it can be done. I can believe I might have some peace."

He is exhausted. This has been one of the most trying experiences of his life, even though it was at his own hand. If he can't even trust himself, what can he count on?

His friends, apparently. He gives Anders a wan smile, one he doesn't really feel.

"Thank you. For saving my life." A beat. "Again."

They're not going back to Circles. He refrains from saying that, but it's a close one. He won't let it happen if he has any ability to stop it, and he's aware that he's getting closer to the sharp edge of that determination. This is absolutely not the place to express those thoughts or feelings, though.

Anders meets Colin's gaze with a look that's serious-verging-on-warm. "I haven't yet, not quite. I've got you physically here. The rest is up to you. But for as long as the physical is in my hands I'll be there for you."

because it doesn't make sense for me to cry out in my own defense

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