[Open] No boom today. Boom tomorrow.

[justice_is_blond]

WHO: Anders and anyone! Or, well, almost anyone. Sorry, Fenris and Cullen...
WHAT: Anders arrives at Skyhold, takes a new fake name, and tries to get a measure of the Inquisition while keeping a low profile. Starting in prose, but will switch to brackets to match if that's preferred!
WHEN: Mid-haring
WHERE: All over Skyhold, choose your location?
NOTES: Warning for Anders? I can't think of any real ones atm, I'll update if that changes.

He's tired, but that's nothing new. The road's been long. It shows in the way he leans a little on his staff, a fairly generic-looking thing that's far from his old appreciation of things flashy, just as it shows in the state of his rather ragged-looking robes and the scruff of a beard that he doesn't exactly like. At least he's not dead on his feet - the company of a few refugees more than willing to bear the brunt of conversation on the way up had made the last couple of days more bearable than usual.

Now he's here, and the strain is back on his shoulders. Skyhold holds more than the usual level of danger but there's no getting around the fact that he has to at least visit this place. The Inquisition is likely to be a player in the future of mages, and Anders will not see the little bit of progress made be undone out of fear, or laziness, or naivete, or any other number of things that could cut down freedom for his people.

But that doesn't mean he knows how to go about working toward that, just yet. And that means he's slowly going around the fortress, gathering information by listening and asking simple, short questions. They have to be short. The second-to-last thing he can afford is to slip up and let Justice get too accusatory, which could lead to the last thing he can afford - to be recognized by someone who would turn him over to the 'authorities,' such as they are.

"Have you been with the inquisition long?" is one of the most frequent questions, along with a follow up if the answer is yes: "Do you think they treat mages well here?" It's not like he's hiding the staff, after all. But there are more simple questions mixed in as well, questions about the need for herbalists or healers, about where one might find a warm enough corner to sleep in, or where one can lose what few coppers they have over a game of cards. They're general. Careful. They have to be. He's no longer ready to die.

Comments

[wickedchase]

"I'll take your word for it. Though I think I'd feel the same way."

There's a small shrug from the elf. "I joined after what happened at Haven, so I can really only speak on everyone else's experience, but I think an ancient magister sprouting red lyrium might be a slight irritation for us. Just a feeling."

Twisted Fate tilts his head. "Though there are some here who have. Varric might be a better bet to get information from, if he's available. Otherwise, perhaps someone else who had been at Haven. I could name a few people, but I don't think they'll have much to add other than what the hell is this, and is that an Archdemon?"

[justice_is_blond]

He murmurs thanks between sips of tea, but the question draws his attention as well as worrying him. He's not been near a Spirit Healer since joining with Justice. Would one feel what he's become? What would her reaction be if she figures it out? But can he justify taking a potion when it's something that could instead be more useful in an emergency? He can't. He has to focus on the fact that he's already lived past when he thought he would, and that he should be helping rather than taking away.

"If you don't mind, I'll take the healing. I know how precious those can get in a crisis." He'll take the healing, and wonder if he's been changed by Justice even more than he knows. It's not completely likely, but if anyone will notice, it's a Spirit Healer. Conversely, if she doesn't, he's safe. Or, at least, safe from this particular threat. Not safe from thousands of others.

[fleurdesel]

"As you wish." Unaware of his internal conflict- Adelaide simply sets the potion aside and extends her hand- the blue light lifting like so much smoke in wisps and curls as it moves to circle his wrist. A simple point of contact, a rush of warmth not entirely unlike a soothing hand, before the spell spread and the bulk of the work is done. She feels...nothing outside of what she would expect in another Spirit Healer.

A weary mage with ache in his bones- a connection to a being of the fade. As the entirety of her skills has been narrowed to the mending of wounds and the soothing of hurts; anything other than that takes a greater deal of focus- an awareness of what it would be to look for in the first place. Having never run into anyone quite like Anders and too familiar with the terror and pain of the Abomination of not a few weeks before and the vast difference between?

She thinks nothing of it.

[justice_is_blond]

"Sprouting red lyrium?" That's part of the story he'd not heard, and Anders tries to think back to when they'd met with Corypheus previously. No. There hadn't been the red lyrium, because he would have noticed. Would have recognized it as what got to Bartrand, and it would have stood out all the more when Meredith had revealed her weapon. It's new, then. Is there some sort of... He has no idea, and it's troubling.

It's almost as troubling as the prospect of going to the Dwarf for more information. Anders well-recalls how tired Varric had sounded after the Chantry had been destroyed, and they'd not exchanged words after that. He'd left, knowing he was unwelcome. Would seeing his face add insult to injury? Anders bets that it would, because he can't think of a reason for anyone to forgive him.

A half-moment later he realizes he's sitting here, frowning, and instead he nods. "Varric... Varric Tethras? The author? If he's time for people to ask questions, I'll see if I can't find out more. Not like I've more idea than anyone else as to how one deals with an ancient magister who can't manage to die after thousands of years."

But should it come as any real surprise that blood magic hadn't worked? Anders doesn't think so.

"What's happened in the months you've been here, if you don't mind my asking?"

[justice_is_blond]

In an instant he feels better than he has in years, and all without her recoiling or showing fear. She hadn't noticed. She hadn't noticed, and for a few moments, he's safe and warm and not sore anywhere. Anders bows his head, fighting a mess of emotions mixed with weariness. He hasn't sought out kindness, hasn't been offered it in months upon months if not longer, and yet here it's been given freely. It's enough to make him feel almost human again despite the lines he's crossed.

His throat is a little tight when he looks up again and takes a breath. "Thank you." Hoarseness is audible in his words and Anders glances away for a moment to make sure he has complete control. He needs to seem like just an apostate, nothing more. Tears, weakness, they're too dangerous.

"You've been healing for the Inquisition long?" That's safer. Much safer.

[fleurdesel]

There's usually some manner of relief that comes along with these spells. The easing of an ache, a slow surge of warmth, of comfort after so long on the road and long without? It's easy enough to understand and, more often than not, Adelaide ignores it in favor of finishing the job neatly. She hasn't expected quite such a visceral surge of it from this man, tight enough to catch in her throat.

Whatever the cause beyond isolation and travel, paranoia and caution held tight in the place of a companion or true means of warmth- it tugs at something in Adelaide's chest. A memory of her initial arrival; weary and afraid.

Words seem- there were words, things her mentors told her were appropriate to offer. Pithy comments about comfort and security. Kind things. Gentle things. She's never been terribly good with gentle things but does reach out to curl her actual fingers around her patient's hand. To squeeze it, a physical counterpoint to the magic she's weaving. "You are welcome. Truly."

Moving along in the conversation seems the most sensible option. "A few months, now. I came with my students from Andoral's Reach after I heard that mages were offered sanctuary here."

[wickedchase]

"That's what it looked like according to some. Haven't met him myself, and I hope I don't, but it could be wild exaggerations. I'm inclined to believe it for now, considering the Red Templars and the like."

Twisted Fate considers a moment, observing the other mage curiously since he'd grown so thoughtful looking. Was it the talk of Corypheus? Could be troubling, he supposes. It would make sense.

"I like to think he makes time for most people." Fate smiles wryly. "And you're right to wonder, but I suppose we'll just have to make sure he's dead now, hm?"

He assumes that, perhaps, the Champion had simply been careless and didn't ensure that Corypheus was dead. He hasn't taken the time to inquire too much with Varric himself.

"But yes, the author. Pleasant fellow. One of the friendlier faces around here."

The question earns a snort. "Well, the most notable thing was that an abomination was here a few days ago. One of the mages, sadly. Now there are talks in the Council and the templars, debating on what to do. The same old politics. Should a mage have a templar breathing down their neck? Harrowings, and so on. Lovely topics. I don't know what the decision will be like, but I'm not terribly thrilled to have found myself in the situation I'd been avoiding for years."

[wontforgetyou]

"Hey?"

The one word, as simple as it is, has more than its fair share of confusion behind it. It's the first time that he's gotten asked that question since he's joined the Inquisition, and for all that it was his notion to join up in the first place, the fact remains that he's still not completely used to the idea. Having someone asking about that straight off is more than a bit unexpected - and more than enough to get him to stop mid-step to turn and give the man who's asking a rather baffled look.

Still, he recovers from that quickly enough, the faintly knit brow smoothing out somewhat as the man goes on. After a moment he shakes his head a little regretfully, even as he absently sets a bundle he's carrying down and brushes his hands off on his kilt.

"Ah, no. I'm afraid I've not been part of it for long at all. They've only just decided that it'd be alright if we joined too." There's a bit of a brogue underlying his words, vaguely reminiscent of someone from Starkhaven, but even with that, it might not make all that much sense as he goes on. "They weren't so sure about us rifter types at first. Can't say as I'd be the best person to ask about the mages either, but for the most part they seem to be treated well enough. At least from what I've seen, anyway."

I have a weakness for those who have a weakness for bad puns.

[rathercommon]

Washing-up? The human certainly looks like he'd clean up all right, if it came down to it, but just at the moment he looks as though he'd make the dishes dirtier if he touched them. Though admittedly, he also looks like standing beside the kettle they use to heat the washing-water would do him quite a bit of good. Poor, skinny, frozen thing, isn't he...But no; there's no question that he needs a meal followed by rest far more than he needs a meal followed by labor in the kitchens.

"We're having a special just at the moment. Free ale to go with every bowl of stew." Her smile is polished and cheerful, and her manner impenetrable; it might be a joke, or it might be the truth. Regardless, the coppers are clearly enough to satisfy; she makes no move to pull either food or drink away from him.

"You'll find quite a few like-minded mages here. Lots of Dalish. And they are prickly about the prospect of being regulated." And then, very casually, she asks, "Where are you coming from?"

[justice_is_blond]

Rifter types. He'd heard talk of them, but isn't sure he'd met any before. It does explain the confusion some, though. There's a fair chance the man doesn't understand why the questions were so important to Anders, or to any mage. And 'well enough," well. That's hard for someone who isn't a mage to judge to begin with. But he can't entirely blame this guy for not knowing.

"So you're one of the people adjusting to this world." Adjusting... and not afraid of a mage. That's already a point in favor of the rifter group. And they won't, likely, be devoted to the Chantry. They're an entirely untapped group who could perhaps be on the side of mages having freedom and rights.

"Do you mind if I join you? I've not spoken to any rifters yet, and if you've questions about our mages I could answer them as well." Templars should fear mages. Everyone else should know that they're people too. "I'm curious about what where you're from is like."

[justice_is_blond]

Corypheus is a threat. There's no denying that, and there's no denying that he needs to be taken out. But Anders isn't sure what he can do there. The best way to proceed is to focus on mages and their future and let the people who liked ridiculous fights deal with Corypheus. There will always be plenty of that sort.

"Friendly faces are welcome. Between the fighting out there, the Templars in here, and the demons everywhere, friendly seems more rare by the day." Granted, a large portion of that is his own fault, but this guy doesn't need to know that. If Anders is lucky, which he never is, no one will associate Detlef with Anders.

"Though you're making it sound like there are about to be even fewer faces. No one should have to submit to a harrowing again. They're nothing more than an excuse to murder children." He shakes his head, frowning. It can't be mages pushing for Harrowing, at least. They need to stand strong. ...And not become abominations. Which leads to another question. "What was the cause of the abomination?"

[wickedchase]

"You aren't wrong. People are quicker to blame each other than usual, and the world seems less forgiving than usual. Hopefully it won't be all dismal and dark for long; terribly boring and bad for my type of business." Fate cracks a grin for a moment.

There's a sigh and a shrug. "I'm not a fan of it either. The mages joined the Inquisition as free agents, like any other. Perhaps those of the Chantry ought to remember the decision of the Herald of Andraste, if they're so intent to follow their ruling." Twisted Fate removes his hat and runs his fingers through his hair. "Terribly sorry; I try to keep out of these sort of debates. Not very fun, but... I suppose there's no avoiding it."

He frowns and shakes his head. "I couldn't say. Maybe they were tempted with an offer. Maybe they were afraid. Many actions are perpetuated by fear; some turn to blood magic, some to demons. I don't think anyone really knows."

\o/

[justice_is_blond]

He doesn't have the energy or even the desire to figure out if she's taking pity on him or being honest. Food and drink are being offered for what he can afford and he'll take it. Her smile gets a nod in return, about all he can muster, before he pulls the bowl close and takes his first bite, savoring it as she keeps talking. It's perfect. Warm, thick, rich, and he savors it before shrugging at the question.

"An easier question is where am I not coming from." Anders meets her gaze. She likely wants to know if he's an apostate, and considering that doesn't seem like a death sentence here, he'll grant her wish. "I've been on the run from the Circle for so long that I feel like I'm from nearly everywhere on this side of the ocean that's not Tevinter. And I wish I'd been to Tevinter."

He dips his spoon again, filling it with the broth. "And you? Surface Dwarf?"

[justice_is_blond]

He's been taught the same words, though he'd been an impatient student whenever he'd been in the Circle. The offered touch means more than any of those would have, and even takes him a little by surprise before he realizes why she's reacting as she is.

Suffering is the story of so many mages. He has no monopoly on it. But they've endured so much, and been so beaten down, even to the point where some weren't even aware of it. Some welcomed the imprisonment because they'd been brainwashed to the point they were afraid of what to do without it. For all their lives they'd faced this, struggled with this, simply due to the very nature of their birth, and it was wrong.

This is why he's done what he has. And this is why he's here. The cycle has to end, and he's already crossed a line that cannot be uncrossed. Mages will have a future, and it will be free.

"I'm impressed that you managed to bring them with you. Hiding from Templars while alone is challenging enough. I can't imagine protecting younger mages as well." His voice may be weary, tone a little dull, but the words are sincere. She'd taken care of them at risk to her own life, and she's here offering him sympathy. Commonality, too, Spirit Healer to Spirit Healer.

There is hope in Skyhold, as hard as it is to feel.

"When I... After I'd been on the run for a time, I tried to get one other person out." It's not a story he's seen in the pages of Tale of the Champion. It's a poor offering of truth because there will be an exchange of names shortly here, and he'll lie. He'll like like he's lied so much, despite her kindness, and as much as he knows he must do so it weighs on him. "I didn't... It didn't work. He died. The fact that you managed to get students out and to the Reach, or even simply managed to shepherd them to safety here, and that you're on this Council... It's good news. The best I've had in some time."

[fleurdesel]

"Pretending not to be a mage did much of the work for me. 'Oh no, Ser templar, no mages in this caravan, only a surgeon and poor orphaned children seeking shelter from the cold. Why your Knight Captain has the gout? Of course I'll tend to it-' Offer the proper incentive and keep your head down long enough, it is a simple matter to hide. Not that it made dealing with them any less terrifying." She can admit that fear to him- he knew. She can feel it in the twist of his voice, the ache in his bones. He knew that fear well.

The rather pithy comment earlier about being beaten for daring so much as to flirt tells her more than enough what manner of Circle he might have endured.

"Wear pants and hide the staves and we're no different from any other caravan of refugees." Frustrating to hide their magic? Yes. But the alternative had been far too great a risk to take. "We came from the Spire before the Reach. They are the ones I was able to get out before..."

She shakes her head, focuses on the spell. It's easier there. He does not need her story, even as he offers her a piece of his own. "My condolences. It is terribly little, I know, but- you have them. As well as my word that you will be safe from Templar meddling while in Skyhold, you may work and flirt as much as you like. No beatings."

[disgracedchampion]

While Michel preferred the courtyard for strategic purposes, there were times in which he preferred a more contemplative spot on the battlements. It was often a lonely place to be as most people endeavored to keep themselves cloistered within the walls confines by some means or other. The Chevalier had developed a tolerance for the cold that not many seemed to share, even most southerners who were accustomed to the colder climates found it difficult to adjust. He, however, was spending most of his available time in Emprise du Lion and anyone who could survive out there deserved respect, particularly the creatures that inhabited the area. Many of them had earned it, Great Bears in particular if he were to be honest.

He would find himself rather surprised not to be alone this time joined by a mage, whether intentional or if, he too, was looking for a more contemplative spot. None better to clear your head and wake you up in Michel's opinion, and he looked as though he could use a bit of bracing, having yet to see a rougher looking mage in the Inquisition...not that he'd known many and the few he had known in recent times had been...incredibly irritating. Not that it colored his perspective of all mages. He wasn't a Templar, after all, though something about him seemed to scream Templar almost as much as it seemed to scream Grey Warden, in spite of his armor marking him as a Chevalier.

"No, I have been otherwise preoccupied with the troubles in Emprise du Lion, I've only recently involved myself in the Inquisition's undertaking. As a means to curry favor, if I am being honest, I am but one man and that is not enough to stand alone," scrappy as he was, even he was not up to the task of fighting Demons, Red Templars, and their obscene experiments of which he knew a little something about--not by himself.

[rathercommon]

She turns her smile down at the counter in front of her the moment he mentions Tevinter. She's gotten good at managing her body language, and her voice obeys her, but her face always betrays her emotions; she can't count that her smile won't harden, that her anger won't show. So she makes as though she's scrubbing at some spot on the counter, and stares down hard at it, and conceals her expression.

You'd have been as wretched in Tevinter as elsewhere, apostate. It just would have been a different sort of wretchedness. It's little better being part of wickedness than it is being victim to it.

"Surface dwarf," she lies cheerfully, still scrubbing at that invisible spot. "Born out in Ferelden. I've been traveling a while, but - you know. War. In times like these, it's better to find good, strong walls to huddle behind than it is to be a small girl with a small pony and a small cart in a very murder-y sort of landscape."

Then she looks up. Her face is composed - she looks curious, and nothing more.

"I know that this is sort of a personal question, but - I'm nosy. Can I ask what drove you from the Circle?" Since it sounds from his phrasing that he'd once been part of one - the Circle chases its own, after all.

[onlyhymns]

Amidst Anders' wandering he might spot a man by the archery range, wearing light leather armor but with the flaming Templar sword emblazoned on the chestpiece. Cade had turned for a moment to look around, his mind wandering, when he caught sight of a ghost-- or was it?-- he lowered his bow and took a step towards the mage, eyes narrowed in concentration.
If it wasn't the man who had brought ruin on Kirkwall, it was someone-- a mage-- with a similar build and profile. But Cade knew that to act rashly would mean another stint in the dungeon, and for once this meant keeping his cool. All Anders would receive was a searching look, at least for now.

[noleechesneeded]

"The Inquisition doesn't lack for them," Simon answers, looking briefly over his shoulder at the healing tents that have been set up. "But I don't think a day will ever come where good healers aren't wanted. If anything, we always appreciate having an extra set of hands for when things get bad."

He had been on his way out when the raggedy looking mage stopped him, but Simon doesn't mind taking a moment to talk. He's only heading to the library to return a book, it can keep...though seeing as it's one of the few tomes they have on the Imperium, he's keeping it tucked out of sight. Not that there's anything useful to be found in it. More biased historical accounts, nothing about how magic differs or anything that would be of use to sorting out River's condition. In fact Simon doesn't seem like a mage at all, forgoing his robes and staff out of habit and instead looking like a mundane herbalist with his faintly stained fingers.

"There's room enough to have your own tent set up, have you spoken to the quartermaster yet?"

[justice_is_blond]

A place that doesn't lack for healers that isn't a Circle is a rarity. Anders wonders if the people have noticed, if they care that their chances of not dying from the most basic of injuries and illness have gone up. Probably not. They're probably all busy hiding away from mages and fearing them still. What the Templars have done is unforgivable... but not insurmountable.

Anders glances back at the tents as if he can figure out who the quartermaster is. He can't. It could be anyone there, or they might not even be among the people.

"I've not, yet. I've only just arrived and I'm starting to get my bearings." Looking back at the man in front of him, he realizes the guy's likely busy. There's no other reason to be holding something a little out of someone else's line of sight when Anders knows he hasn't been made, yet. The second he has, there will be Templars everywhere. But until then...

"Am I interrupting you? I can ask someone else, I'm certain."

[justice_is_blond]

There's a Templar staring. He can see the man. He can feel the man, and it takes all of Anders' frayed and weak self-control to keep walking. As long as there's no yell or shout, there's no reason to think he's in danger yet.

He'd known coming here was a risk, but at least, from the glance he's had out of the corner of his eye, this isn't someone he recognizes. Maybe it's just another Templar with a mage problem. There are thousands upon thousands of those, and as long as Anders keeps Justice firmly in check, he can act like he doesn't notice.

Not until he's clear does Anders stop and take a breath, reminding both himself and Justice that lashing out at one Templar would be a waste. They're here to see to the future, not deal out vengeance, no matter what lines have been blurred in the spirit's nature.

[justice_is_blond]

The man held himself like a soldier. Even without the armor, Anders is fairly certain he would know right away. But the armor this man bears isn't the armor of anyone who is a direct enemy, and so it doesn't bother him that he's not alone up here. In truth, as much as his situation has required him to be alone and always on his guard, he doesn't like it. Anders has always enjoyed being around people. The merge hadn't changed that. It's just made everything he enjoys a lot more difficult.

...Though it doesn't mean he appreciates clear honesty any less. Anders raises an eyebrow at the man.

"Favor is a powerful reason to be here, when it seems like everyone will be taking a note of the Inquisition and how it does things. My reasons for being here are much the same, even if I've no sway." He straightens, no longer leaning on the wall overlooking the view. "I want to see a chance of us gaining the freedom everyone else takes for granted. A chance of being treated as people. You are one man. And that is also what I am. One man."

Anders watches the man's face as he speaks. It's a truth that should be self-evident to all, and yet so many ignore it. What this man does with the statements will determine if there's any value in the honesty shown here.

[justice_is_blond]

There's a lot that's being said that Anders needs to take in, and he does, mulling it over. The man's business certainly sparks his curiosity, but there's far more here, the debating, the politics, and how no one seems to know why someone turned abomination. The last is the worst. Chances are, it won't be pursued. How certainly will, and mages will likely pay for that like they always have - more scrutiny, more hatred, more restrictions. But why? What if it was fear? What if a Templar was abusing the mage and they felt backed into a corner? It's a common story and no one cares about it. He'll have to dig more, but carefully, elsewhere.

"Now I'm curious about what your business is." For now, finding out who the people who made up the Inquisition was of utmost importance. Forewarned is forearmed, and allies are precious resources the other mages will need. Other mages, because he doubts any will care to be allied with him when it inevitably comes out. "And what decision the Herald made that you think they should stay with. I've... been somewhat out of touch, of late."

[justice_is_blond]

She looks away at the mention of Tevinter, and doesn't look up as she speaks. There's a history there... and he shouldn't have asked, really. Especially not when she talks about being a small girl, alone, in the war-torn world he'd had a hand in causing.

By the time she's looked up, Anders is looking down into his ale. She deserves that answer, really. He'd pried when he shouldn't have, especially as he's hiding most of his own story. After a sigh and a sip of what turns out to be actually palatable ale, for a change, he looks back up.

"I'm particular. Demanding. I feel that if someone is to be locked up in a place and kicked and hit and live under constant fear of worse, then they should have done something to earn that. Something other than being born. It's an unpopular opinion, I've discovered, one not shared by many, oddly enough, and I found myself at a need for a change of venue."

Anders gives her a smile that doesn't reach his eyes - his own poker face leaves a great deal to be desired too.

"Perhaps we should talk on slightly more cheerful topics. Decay, for instance. Downright merry, compared to what's going on out there and my past, at least. Or, maybe, we can risk something dangerously pleasant like the ale, or the tavern itself."

[wickedchase]

That earns a small, wry smile. He tilts his head and offers his arm to Anders; he certainly won't take any offense if it's not taken, but he figures he can play the gentleman here and perhaps lead him to a place for them to sit a little more comfortably.

"I have several I do. I'm a man of many trades. Entertainer, mage, bit of a thief -- but I have simple desires. I like to enjoy the pleasures life has to offer, not bicker among my supposed fellow agents about basic freedoms."

The question seems understandable, especially if the apostate had just arrived here. He doesn't think much of it. "My understanding is that the Herald bright the mages in as free agents. They were not brought in a prisoners. Not the most popular decision, but it certainly made me curious about her. I wish I had met her myself. She wasn't a mage herself, yet she made that choice. It was adhered then, it should be adhered now, if they love their Chantry so much."