faderift | [Open] No boom today. Boom tomorrow.

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[Open] No boom today. Boom tomorrow.

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.

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Alfsigr's head had been bowed when he'd approached and started speaking, one hand swallowed by a pot of earth where she's burying a seed that she very much hopes will take root. It takes a moment before she realizes she's being addressed, and she lifts her head with a start, embarrassed.

"Oh, I've only been here a very brief--"

That face. She knows that face. The pot resting on her knees goes tumbling to the ground, the shattering on the courtyard stone in a horrible mess of clay and dirt. This is apparently not the first time she's been clumsy, because there's not much more than a cursory look in their - her direction, and a roll of eyes. "You're alive!" she whispers, knowing better than to cause more of a scene than she has already. There's no desire to call Templars down upon their heads.

But would he want to be discreet? She's still not completely certain that this is the right choice. He's affirmed that he can keep a secret, but he'd have no reason, necessarily, to want to. It's imprudent to tell him this, and there's no real gain to be had from it - nothing except the satisfaction of her own honesty, and the the relief of sharing a little bit of what weighs so heavily on her.

Is that worth it?

I think that's worth it.

So she starts with the same half-truth she's told everyone. "I'm here for safety. It's dangerous out there for someone like me." And then, more truthfully, "And I think that the Inquisition has the power to shape the world, once all this is through. I've...seen a great deal of injustice in the world. I grew up surrounded by it. I want to be here to make sure that they don't repeat the old mistakes. And I want to see if I can help them to smash the old structures that support injustice."

"Well, to be fair, it was the others who figured it out first. The people I was with have magic in their worlds, and I think that gave them an idea of what to try. I just did what they told me to do."

Granted, it hasn't been the first time he's wound up following someone else's instructions. That is something he's more than familiar with doing by now. It's just the part of it where he'd been able to direct that sort of green energy or whatever it was at the rift out of his hand that had been strange. He supposes having something suddenly happen had been strange for Detlef as well, although he has the feeling that the mage wasn't thinking so much about it being odd as he was thinking about the fact that things were suddenly on fire. That can't have been a good thing, and he finds himself feeling for the young lad that had found himself in that situation.

He's clearly gotten training since, though, and when the tiny fireball appears on Detlef's hand, Jamie winds up staring at it, his attention caught by the way it hovers and rolls around while being unsupported. Most the magic he's seen here has been in the heat of combat, with one or two exceptions, so seeing it just there is still rare enough that he the sight was one that he couldn't help but view with a bit of wonder. Once it vanishes, he comes back to himself, refocusing with a small shake of his head.

"At least you've got people that can teach you, though. I'm not sure that we'll be as lucky, given everything that's happened. What do you think? Is training better or would it be better if you just had to guess at everything to figure out what works with your magic?"

The question isn't meant to be judgmental. In fact, there's a look of genuine curiosity on his face as he asks it. There's a part of him that really does want to know, even though he has doubts he'll be able to get any sort of training when it comes to the mark. Anything they do with that is likely to be guesswork, with neither training or intuition to help. But on the off chance someone does turn up that knows more, it'd be good to know if he should go seek them out or not.

Anders jerks back the second she whispers, fear in his expression. A moment later he's fairly certain he recognizes her in return and he wishes that had come a little sooner. He can't turn and run, though. He can't do anything. Yes, people have turned their attention back to their tasks and conversations, but if he makes any sudden movements it will be right back on the two of them.

"I..." He can't even deny things. "Yes. Apparently. And you are too. That's good." It is good, but he's worried.

"And you're here." Maybe not as good. She could end things right here and now.

"It doesn't, no." There are so many ways to be trapped, so many ways to be enslaved. Anders mulls over the rest of what she's said as they walk. There's not a chance he wants to delve into topics that will bring her pain, and likely asking more questions about the other mage will just do that. He doesn't need a name, doesn't need to know if he knew her mentor once, a lifetime ago.

"We could run through what you know, perhaps find a patient who is injured and willing to be discreet, and I can feel you heal. Or I can heal someone with you in the room and we could discuss it after. There are ways to figure out what level of skill you've achieved with using spirits. But only if you'd like." Is a half-trained Spirit Healer dangerous? Yes. But so is he. He's a hypocrite in so many areas, but forcing another mage to reveal their abilities is not one of them.

Not doing it alone could be a problem. He's alienated so many people, hurt so many more he's never met, and is hated by still even more. But if there's any future for him and for Justice, they need to do something about their situation.

"Who? Who helped you? Could we... Is there a way to find them? Are they here?" He won't be surprised if the answer turns out to be no. Nothing's been easy in his life, and this? There's not a chance it will have any easy steps. But that there might actually be steps is news he'd not expected to hear and news he wants so badly to follow up on.

One step at a time. It's all anyone can do, and Anders nods in silent agreement. Certainly there are larger steps and smaller steps - freeing a mage through his network in Kirkwall was a smaller step, blowing up the Chantry was larger - but it's still one step at a time.

Anders leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, his chin on his palms, and stares into the horizon for a few moments before talking again.

"And I've never stopped seeking freedom. Not since the day they first put ropes around my wrists and took me toward the Circle. There's a need in this world for idealism, for people who will save others, who will right wrongs. They're few and far in between."

He sighs and straightens as he continues. "The question is more how far you'll go. How far anyone with ideals will go. Because it will take a great deal to save this world from itself and put an end to all the injustices in Thedas, and yet there are lines whose crossing..." There's a shake of his head. "I'd think there would be no coming back from that. Those who have called for the Rite of Annulment, for instance. And other, more memorable actions."

Like his. He has as many lives on his hands as any who have performed the Rite, and as much blame as any who has called for it. But at least his aim and motivations were pure and blameless, unlike theirs.

Maker's breath. He's obviously not Tevinter or Orlesian, so why the Chevalier thinks that's relevant to a mage not traveling in political circles he has no idea. Again, there are exceptions. The man gets a shake of his head because the idiocy of all of this is doing nothing to help Anders stay in control of Justice. A big mask with lots of feathers would serve mages? Justice scoffs at that idea and Anders knows how hair-thin his control is now.

One last question. He'll answer one last question, and then they can go somewhere and breathe and he can pray the man sees no blue. Anders' vision is already a little edged with it, which is often a sign that his eyes are changing colors, but at least his back is to this man.

"A Templar told me there were mages and Templars working together here, and mages were free and safe - safe from the Templars, even. I needed to see it for myself to believe it, and now that I believe, I seek to keep this a lasting situation. We cannot go back. We need to not go back. Is that clear enough for you? Or are you going to tell me about this one single mage your friend's sister overheard talking about how they were maybe fine with the Circle and use that to suggest it wasn't that bad?"

He's well aware that this particular mage is from Ferelden, or parts thereabout, that wasn't necessarily the point he was trying to make. The heart of his point was, that there were places where mages were accepted into politics, there were mages from these very specific places right here. While some might be more open to suggestion to others it helped that they were close to the ear of some rather powerful individuals. Additionally Empress Celene had some progressive ideas and if the Inquisition could help push those ideas and someone like Anders could deliver his message through the right channels, he could begin a campaign...a very political campaign of his own.

Michel was trying to nudge him that way with his subtle drops, but it didn't seem to take. He couldn't be more blatant in his approach due to his own exile from court so, for the moment, he would have to shrug it off as a lost cause.

"Like I said, I don't have to believe what I say in order to present you with an argument...so no...that's not at all what I was going to imply, not at all what I was thinking. The Inquisition is doing a lot of good so far, it is why I am here, to help it continue to do good...so we are not on opposite sides, Monsieur. A place to belong, change, a need for a purpose? I wish I could stay, but I have a Forbidden One to take care of," or attempt, Michel had no delusions there, "in short, I was curious about you. Mille fois merci. And do speak to to the Madame de Fer if you have the opportunity."

He shrugs at Jamie's dismissal of what he'd done. Channeling energy for the first time, or even the first few times, was still a terrifying thing. The man had done it despite being somewhere absolutely new with an entirely new ability. That was impressive.

There's a beat before Anders answers the questions, looking past the man for a few moments. "Training is better. Guidance in the basics, it's crucial to truly understanding what all you can do, and how to build upon it. But it must be training given freely, not forced. For instance, should someone arrive who can instruct on how to use what you have, the Rifters should not be rounded up and kept in close quarters for 'protection.'" His voice is a little bitter and he takes a breath to try to resume a normal, calm tone.

"Do you have any control over it, or any sense of how it works at all? Does anyone?" If there's parallels to magic, he might be able to help. Anders just doesn't know enough to say.

It's dangerous for nearly everyone, and he can understand that motivation. What he understands all the more is the drive to fight injustice. What he doesn't follow is how this requires discretion.

"Justice is highly important to me as well. Much of it is due to my life, but there are plenty I've known who have lived among great injustice. They should not." Maybe, a lifetime ago, he would make a joke about Justice being very close to his heart. It's not really funny anymore, though.

"But I'm... not certain why that requires discretion. Many people aren't safe out there."

Kallian offered a hint of a grateful smile. He's not pressing, not trying to force a connection. He's giving her a choice, which was in itself a rare and precious opportunity. Kallian had been fed a thousand warnings about human men, but maybe, just maybe, Detlef was a good one. One who might actually protect her from the others who would hurt her without a second thought.

"Animals," she suggested. "What about animals? They can't talk. Niella had me do a lot of my powers training on animal subjects. People were used to train me for more mundane aspects, like applying poultices or giving medicine. I know it isn't exactly the same, but... It's still better than nothing..."

He nods in acknowledgement. Demons had hundreds of years to study mortals and their weaknesses, and most skipped no opportunity to hone their skills. Humans were nothing more than objects to them, another reason he doesn't think Justice is fully gone, yet.

And the amusement that comes from her going pink yet again is another part of why he doesn't think he's fully gone yet either. He takes a sip of tea as he leans back in his seat a little. What he thinks, but won't say, is that the only reason he can be so terrible is because he knows this won't go anywhere. He's dirty and road-weary and she's being kind. That's all.

"That's who I am. Terrible. A shame you've discovered that so quickly; I'd been hoping to spend far more time in your presence before that came out."

Everyone's still paying for the Chantry in Kirkwall? He'd object, but he's only just arrived. The mages here benefit from it. They're not in Circles, they don't have to look over their back for Templars... Anders shakes his head.

"So individuals don't need to be perfect, the Council does, and the whole does, but if a mage is imperfect, then it's all bad anyway?"

Are they here?

"No," Cole says at first, before realizing the man may think he's answering both questions. "I... don't know where he is."

It hurts, thinking about Rhys and Evangeline, in a way he didn't expect it to. He hasn't thought about them in ages; in a way, he'd nearly made himself forget. Just as he suspects they have both forgotten about him.

"His name was Rhys. A mage. And there was someone else. A templar called Evangeline. She was kind — she cared more about doing the right thing than following orders."

It's better that they likely don't remember him. Selfishly, Cole would rather they not get involved. And yet, if they could help this man...

"I don't want to cause them any more trouble... I'll have to think about it." He's not accustomed to feeling selfish. It makes it hard to know what to do.

"Detlef the Terrible." She snorts a laugh. "Precision over power was the basis of my training in every school of magic in the Spire. I do not know if it was simply my mentor's philosophy on magic in general or my temperament that made it the better lesson. But it is one that I took to heart for more than magic."

In her studies, in her relationships, in her cooking, in her instruction. Specificity over generalized study and socialization. Perhaps she is due a terrible associate that is terribly flirtatious; enough to remind her to mind herself.

"How fortunate that I do not actually mind it terribly."

Even Varric wasn't sure which part of that was more funny--Swords and Shields was not, in fact, lacking in heaving bosoms, but the idea that Detlef was a common name in the Anderfels, that there were crowds of unfortunate, haggard assholes named Detlef was too much--and the laugh that it startled out of him was probably louder than it should have been. He caught himself quickly, but the dry look he leveled at Anders was far, far more amused than it had any right to be.

"I'd say it's a shame we're not in the Anderfels but, seeing as I don't really care for Darkspawn, I'm really not that torn up about it," Varric replied and took a deep, resigned breath.

Anders's presence had the potential to spark at least a dozen different catastrophes of varying horror and severity, but for all that risk, there was some benefit to him being here. Much though Varric lamented his actual presence, Anders was pretty competent when it came to healing and, Maker knew, the Inquisition could have used a few more healers up until this point. Shit, if Anders had been around when Corypheus attacked Haven--

No, there was no use going down that merry little path. He'd already done it enough times to know that it wouldn't ever make a difference.

"Alright, well, Detlef, I've got records to falsify, apparently, and you have laying low to do...between healing people and helping mages in general. Subtly, if possible."

That's what freedom was. Choices. The ability to make them and to know that they were your own. Mages should all have access to them, no matter what consequences the choices brought. They were people, they deserved it.

"Animals work. Maker knows there are dozens of mabari around here who would be docile enough to allow treatment, though they'll likely lick your face, during. Horses potentially, but there are often people in the stables who may question why a pair of people are there. If only there were more cats..." His voice was wistful for the briefest moment before he shook his head. "Though cats hide when they're hurt or ill. We'd spend more time hunting for them than anything else."

He takes a few steps in silence before looking over at Kallian again. "What do you feel about another Spirit Healer knowing your secret? She'll sense it as soon as she runs into you, anyway, but I ask because she's connections to mabari. It may be easier if we go through Adelaide."

He shot a confused look at the Dwarf at the laugh, unsure of what had been that funny. Was it really the name? Seriously? Then again, it's not like he has a whole lot of fondness for the place he'd been hauled out of.

"You'll accept the epithet the Templars gave me, but you don't like an actual name from the region? And I'll have you know the Anderfels has a great deal more than Darkspawn. It has cows." There was very little that's serious about his voice. Cows, deserts, religious fanatics, and too many Wardens for him to ever be able to risk going back. It was pretty, though.

"But yes. I'll... work on the subtle part." Stick to drab robes, avoid most Templars, try not to get into too many arguments... the last part was the hardest but the most important. Any glow and he'd be dead. His voice went softer. "Thank you, Varric."

The words would never be enough, considering what he'd done, but maybe in time some of his actions could mitigate a portion of the debt he owes this man.

One mage and one Templar, and they'd figured out how to help Cole. Maybe it could be rediscovered without them because Anders was not going to push Compassion no matter how deeply he wanted peace inside his own head. It was the spirit's nature that was protecting Rhys and Evangeline; pulling Compassion and Cole from it would only harm. He's so tired of only harming.

Anders takes a slow breath. "What details can you give me about what they did? Was it a joining of their abilities in some way? Do you know what school of magic the mage used? I don't know of any Templar I could trust to help with possession, here, but I can start looking."

Alayre is dependable, but Anders believes that very dependability means that the Templar would attempt to execute him should he discover Anders is possessed.

"And where were they from?" That could give him a direction for a library search. Maybe it was something tucked away, obscure, in a tome of spells from that region. Evangeline sounds like an Orlesian name. Rhys, he doesn't know.

Not on opposite sides. Michel gets a sidelong glance and a shake of the head. Anyone who wasted time dithering about how everyone was suffering while minimizing the suffering of a people group was not someone Justice approved of, at the very least. Anders hasn't made up his mind, but the difficulty in keeping control over the spirit does not weigh in the Chevalier's favor. If he manages to take out a Forbidden One, though...

"Which?" He should simply let the guy go and go on his own way, but he has to ask. The tome they'd found in Kirkwall had suggested there were four of them, and as he'd assisted with the death of one and knew through shared Warden battle stories of the death of Gaxkang, that left two. Imshael, and the Formless One.

Wasting time on the suffering of a single group while the the Breach threatened to rend the world asunder was also an exercise in futility. Right now the only practical perspective was a utilitarian one, maximizing the well-being for the greatest number of people at this point. That was neither one group nor the other, but the whole of everyone who would suffer if these rifts were left to spit out demons and spirits and the one impacted included Mages. All suffering mattered at this point.

"Imshael. I met him a year ago and I've been tracking him ever since...and now I know where he's residing and what he is doing. Getting to him, however, is problematic," and that is why Michel has come all the way here from Emprise du Lion.

"But precision with power is truly something to be see." The smile slips for a moment before he recovers it, the briefest of changes. The spell he'd used with the Chantry had been impressive visually as well as destructively and he'd needed to be precise.

"Healing takes precision, after all, and we do it with far greater strength thanks to the spirits we work with." That's safer, and he can get back to flirting. "But I'd like to learn this application of hates, if you're sure my presence isn't too terrible. After all, it may well take a few one-on-one sessions for me to get the hang of it."

If Justice were to widen his scope to all injustice, Anders would get no rest ever. The constant push is exhausting, and he can't afford to take on more causes. One at a time. One group free, and then another, and so on. Anyone freed would then want to turn around and help others, after all. And as Anders and Justice are most acquainted with the suffering of mages, that's the focus. They'll win freedom or die trying, and people will either stand with them or against. There is no middle ground. Compromise died in Kirkwall.

Anders is silent for several moments after Michel answers. He won't offer help. He can't, the cause is here. He doesn't want to, because he doesn't think Michel will ever help mages in return. But he's one of very few who has gone against a Forbidden One and won.

"I've heard of two being taken down. One through gossip, and one's written about in Tales of the Champion, the book by Varric Tethras. You may want to speak with people who were known associates of the Hero of Ferelden or the Champion of Kirkwall, if you've not yet. Zevran Arainai, Alistair Theirin, Varric Tethras, Fenris, I believe they're all supposed to be here." He won't recommend Merrill when it comes to any topic touching demons, and Isabella doesn't appear to be around right now.

"Getting to him may be the least of your worries, no matter how problematic." The High Dragon in the bonepits had been less of a challenge than Xebenkeck. "May you not die." He doesn't like Michel... but he doesn't hate the guy.

"Mages that focus more on power than on skill are mages that more often than not are misusing their magic." Battle prowess, selfish gain. Magic is for assisting others- and what good that came to you from that is good you've earned. She has to hold fast to that if nothing else.

"Perhaps after you've rested, yes? The rejuvenation will hold you for an hour or so more but there is no substitute for a proper rest in a proper bed." Where her students found the thing, she can't say, but they've one and she attempts to take turns as often as they allow her to do so.

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Page 8 of 10

[Open] No boom today. Boom tomorrow.

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If Anders had been around when Corypheus attacked Haven there would have been demons...

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