[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

[mythalenaste]

"I'm a member of the Council of Magi." The silver-haired Dalish elf peers up at the scruffylooking fellow from her spinning. "It's not perfect, but the Inquisition's leaders haven't given us any trouble since we formed."

[justice_is_blond]

A new Council of Magi. It's both promising and not, but the fact that she sees flaws in it leans it a little more toward the former. Anders nods toward a spot near her.

"Mind if I take a seat and hear more? It's a topic I take some interest in. As should all mages." There's no way to stop from being opinionated. Or maybe there is, but he's never tried in all of his years and Anders isn't about to try now. If he's to get to know what's going on here, he'll need reactions as well as words.

[fleurdesel]

There's a certain flavor and tone that comes with most mages- the crackling of their magic, the chords of their spells. Most of it is negligible unless they're actively casting and in Skyhold? Most of that is done in the healing tents. The smooth wash of healing magic mending injuries and tending to the sick is a constant low burr but amidst the usual murmuring there is a tone.

Bright.

Familiar.

A harmony of sorts to her own. In between patients herself Adelaide steps away from the tents to peer about, seeking any new faces. Those that came through did so often enough that she knew most of the scouts and the students, and there- speaking to one of the hedgemages to the edge of the tents, someone she hasn't seen before. Curiosity and Compassion bid her closer, roughly in time to hear him ask after somewhere warm to rest. "We've room for one more in my quarters- so long as you do not mind bunking with apprentices."

Her voice is low, rolling, Orlesian- but if this is in fact someone that shares her skills- it'd be wonderful to have a peer again. Someone that could help her teach, could help her work.

[justice_is_blond]

He feels it back, the warmth that comes with someone who works closely with the spirits to heal, and at the approach he also feels a spark of fear. There are never a great many spirit healers wandering around, and if it's one of the ones from Kinloch... but somehow, for once, his luck holds. Anders doesn't recognize the woman that's approached, and her accent is from a place he's never been. The tension that had entered his shoulders for just a moment leaves again, and he nods his thanks to the mage he'd approached before turning to the new one.

His own accent is Fereldan despite his fair coloring. He's been far too many years away from his place of birth to still sound how he looks.

"I've done it before. Granted, it was when I was an apprentice, but even so the option's better than one I've had in some time. Provided there's no Templar guards this time."

If there's one stationed on the door, Anders isn't sure he'd be able to stay in control. Forget sleeping. And while he's trying to make the half-question a joke, he's fairly certain it's clear that the comment's more than that.

Your username is so amazing

[rathercommon]

"Mages get treated better here than anywhere else I've ever seen." That's a lie - Kitty knows very intimately well just how mages get treated up in Tevinter, after all - but it's not a big one. All her other travels, through all those other lands, have shown just how wretchedly they're treated elsewhere. And she wishes she had any idea which way of doing things was worse. Some days, she thinks it'd be easier just to burn everything, all governments everywhere, to the ground and see what would happen if they all started from scratch.

She's a small girl even by dwarf standards, so she has to step up on a few boxes stacked behind the bar to deposit the bowl of stew in front of the scruffy-looking mage. Her eyes study him closely, with interest. They get a lot of miserable-looking people here in the tavern, but he's amongst the most miserable-looking of all. It kindles a little bit of compassion in her; she turns and pours a tankard of ale for him, unbidden.

"They have a voice. Representation. And they get listened to. It's not like that sort of thing they'll do sometimes, where they'll pretend to hear you and then just go and do their own thing. The leadership really pays them heed." As she turns back to him, and climbs up on her boxes again to give him his ale, Kitty asks, "Are you going to be staying on?"

I have a weakness for bad puns.

[justice_is_blond]

He's quiet for a moment. It's not just the question, or the thought of actual representation. It's also the stew and the drink. How long has it been since he simply sat down and ate something that was cooked by someone else, rather than something he'd just caught or found and hastily prepared? His stomach grumbles and he gives the dwarf a sheepish, very faint smile before reaching into his belt pouch and pulling out what few coppers he has.

"I've not decided, as of yet. Freedom is something very important to me and settling... I need to be sure. I can't go back to--" He cuts himself off with a shrug. Keeping a low profile has always been difficult. It's part of the reason he'd been caught time and time again. In lieu of finishing his sentence, he holds up what he's got and nods at them before even touching food or drink. He doesn't need to be calling authorities down on his head for not being able to pay, especially not when he knows one of the authorities by face and name, and they know him in return.

"How much would I owe you? If I can't afford the both, I'd prefer the stew. ...Though I'm not unfamiliar with washing-up chores." Granted, it had been many years since he'd been set to all sorts of tasks for mouthing off to Templars, but you never really forgot how to scrape plates or mop floors.

[wickedchase]

The elf glances over the mage for a moment, then smiles. Though he does not recognize this man, he grins anyway, like he knows something.

It's just how he is.

"A few months. An interesting time, to be sure." Twisted Fate closes his book, giving this mage more of his attention. "I suppose that they do, or as well as they can with the presence of templars about as well. I'm not being hunted down or anything like that, so that's helpful. You might want to discuss the matter with a former Circle mage, however. Perhaps not Vivienne, well-spoken as she is."

[justice_is_blond]

The grin is disconcerting. Anders is nearly certain he doesn't recognize this elf, but he'd been in the Kirkwall alienage countless times and there's not a chance he could know every person there. For the first time, the danger he's in at Skyhold truly strikes Anders. It's not just a few rumored names and one certain name he has to watch out for. There are refugees from everywhere here.

It takes about all of his focus for Anders to not fidget under this guy's stare, and to not walk away. He needs to not be suspicious. Somehow.

"Vivienne?" That should be a safe enough topic. Unless she's pro-Templar, in which case it could be a poor choice. "And you're apostate? Or Dalish?"

[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."

[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."

[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.

[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.

[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.

[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.

[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."

[equanimiti]

Alayre was idly tending to his horse at the stables when he caught a glimpse of a vaguely familiar face. It almost feels like a lifetime ago when the former Knight-Commander was cutting down brigands and bandits within the expansive fields of the Hinterlands.

During the encounter, he happened upon a mage who was about to be ripped apart by bears. With as much skill one would expect from a Templar of his title, Alayre quickly dispatched the fiends but found himself swords drawn at the man he saved. The exchange was tense at first but eventually it ended on a somewhat "friendly" but somber note. He hadn't expected to see the mage again, especially since the fool decided to persist in his wandering. Most mages have lost all faith in the Order and many more never trusted the Templar to begin with, so it didn't surprise Alayre that the mage declined his invitation to Skyhold. Joining the Inquisition was no easy decision for Alayre either but it is easily the best decision he's made since leaving Pharos with fifteen others.

"I cannot believe he's here..." He mutters quietly as he unhooks Durandal's reins. His horse is a lovely white mare with grayish hooves. She was a gift from someone he fancied hailing from the neighboring town near Pharos. Alayre is known to take great care of his horse unless tasked with work. Deciding to leave the rest of her care to that of the stable hand, Alayre wanders out of the stables looking very less like a Templar and more like a rogue due to his fondness for dark tunics and cloaks.

"Ah, I see fate itself has brought you here."

[justice_is_blond]

This man's face is one of the few Anders knew he'd recognize, and even rarer, is one he'd be fine with seeing. Certainly he doesn't trust the Templar just yet, but the man's earned a chance. And not just because he'd potentially saved Anders' life from bears.

"I've no use for fate." He gives the Knight-Commander a nod in greeting. It's rare when they come across a Templar and Justice isn't calling for blood, but Anders welcomes the quiet, as watchful as it is.

"I've use for a chance for a changed future, however. You gave me reason to believe that might exist here." If a Knight-Commander can talk casually with an apostate, there's a chance. "I take it your presence means you still find potential here?"

Anders plants the staff on the ground, leaning a bit more on it as if it were a third leg. He's not dead on his feet, not yet, but he could go for a bit more stability. "I'm hoping it does."

hi hi hi hi hi hi hi

[colecomfort]

He knows as soon as Anders enters the castle grounds. He doesn't know what he knows, exactly, but he feels it: a change in the song, a new melody added, one he hasn't heard before. It feels harsh and heavy, but in a way that also signals the power and strength required to hold itself up to do what must be done, to balance the scales.

Justice. The name reveals itself to Cole over the course of several days. He hears the spirit more than the mage that carries him, as if Justice were not in fact contained, but hanging over Skyhold like a cloud, watching. Only — it isn't, really. There is a vessel, a point of containment. Someone brought Justice here. Cole wants to meet them.

One day, Anders will feel himself being stared at, in the middle of the courtyard, but he will turn to find no one's eyes on him. Cole waits to find him alone, somewhere they will be able to speak freely. Then, Anders will see him, sitting down close to a wall, legs crossed underneath him.

"I see you," he says. "You're watching, wondering, waiting for something. Looking out through his eyes."

((OOC: please feel free to say Anders recognized the presence of another spirit, if you wish!))

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

[justice_is_blond]

It's... strange, the feeling that comes some of the times he's being watched, like Anders or Justice or both of them should know the watcher. It's not until the spirit is seated in front of them, talking to Justice, that it sinks in, and for a very rare moment both are surprised into silence.

"You..." Is this someone else like them? Justice doesn't think so. The spirit feels too true to his own nature, but how else would this be possible?

Anders clears his throat and tries to start again. "You're talking to him. To Justice. You can feel him. And you're..." It's been some time since Anders used any Spirits for healing save Justice. He'd courted others, worked with some, but it's Justice who supplies the name. "Compassion. You've a host?"

For once he might be willing to let Justice take the reins and speak directly with Compassion, but it's far too dangerous in Skyhold just after someone's lost control.

I hope this works and is not too terribly late. c:

[hugeinorlais]

Varric was a reasonable dwarf; he considered himself polite (polite enough not to listen in to every conversation, at least) and wasn't especially suspicious, but he was also not blind. Sure, he'd seen a few familiar-looking faces in the crowds at Skyhold before and, while a handful had been people he actually knew, the majority fell under that standard issue, passing sort of familiarity. Looked like his cousin, looked like someone else's cousin, looked like a guy who owed him money, was a guy who owed him money, that sort of thing.

At first, even though he got a dead-on eyeful of the guy, Varric was absolutely sure he hadn't seen him correctly. In fact, he was so sure of this, that his eyes just skipped right on over Anders and continued scanning the courtyard, as you do. His brain caught up half a second later, however, and while Anders had pulled his best vanishing act (because of course he was keeping out of sight as much as possible), Varric had known him long enough to know which shady corners and bits of scaffolding the guy would gravitate toward first.

When he locked down sight of the apostate, Varric actually paled.

He was moving before he knew it, dipping into the crowd with as inconspicuous and direct a path as possible, and since he wasn't the guy fleeing...well, everyone he caught up to Blondie before the mage could dive completely out of sight again. When he cornered him, Varric uttered a few choice expletives and stared, incredulously, at the human.

"Andraste's ass, what in the void are you doing here? You do know they have templars, and swords, and most of them are...shall we say: not fond of you?"

It is beautiful.

[justice_is_blond]

He'd been trying so hard to avoid people who would know him, who would be angry with him, and when the first swear words spilled from the Dwarf's mouth he wondered if this was it. Despite his desire to not die yet, Anders refused to strike out at Varric, so if the Dwarf went for the authorities-- and then Varric continued talking.

"You... what?" He'd expected anger. Righteous fury. Statements about how Anders had betrayed trust and lied, anything but something that sounded downright worried for him. Void, he deserved to be torn into. His throat threatened to tighten because he'd run this meeting through his head thousands upon thousands of times, and not once had it opened like this.

After a beat, he somewhat managed to gather his thoughts and then shake his head. "I'm here because I can't ignore what I-- I can't ignore this. My people have a chance, Varric. A chance at freedom and justice and equality, and I owe it to... people... to help."

Merrill, for one, single time, had been right. He should work to set things right. Anders dropped his voice lower, conscious of the fact that while they might be away from most people, there's always the chance of ears where they're not noticed.

"I can't hide any longer."

Forward-dated a couple weeks

[kallian_endris]

Kallian had heard rumors of the man asking questions in Skyhold. Questions about mages. About healers and herbalists. Questions she did not want leading to her. She didn't trust it. Who knew why this man wanted that information? It was too dangerous, and Kallian kept her guard up lest he find her and try to take her by surprise or discover her secret.

And then, she saw him. He wasn't doing anything. He didn't even look particularly menacing, just shabby and weary like any number of refugees and pilgrims who had come to swell Skyhold's population. Kallian was wary, but at the same time, there was something about him... Something she did not quite know how to explain, but it drew her.

Slowly, cautiously, the little elf approached. The closer she got, the more he seemed oddly familiar. But why? Something nagged at her memory. Something about the eyes...

A cold day, years ago. Maman was late. She should have been back hours before, but she wasn't. No food in the house. She was worried and hungry and slipped out of the alienage into the marketplace. The smell of pies was in the air, and her stomach growled as she shivered. No one seemed to take any notice of the little elf girl, except the vendors who shooed her away from their stalls. Until someone in a cloak pressed a tart into her hands. From under the hood, he smiled at her, held a finger to his lips to shush her, and then disappeared into the crowd...

"I've seen you before," she blurted, surprised by the memory. "Years ago. You gave me a tart in the marketplace."

[justice_is_blond]

The first words nearly make his heart stop in worry, but the continuation gets her a closer look, a considering one. Rarely had he been able to afford tarts, which places that as... And then he remembered, and a small, tired smile lit up his face.

"You lived." It wasn't exactly the best thing to say, and Anders realized it a moment after he'd spoken, giving her an awkward shrug. "I'm sorry. You were the little one in Denerim, weren't you?" He'd thought about her in the days after that, from time to time, but there had been other worries and before long she'd slipped his mind.

"And here you are now. You've been with the Inquisition long?" She was a remnant of his past, his life before Justice, before everything had gotten so complicated, and the nostalgia and memories threaten his little smile.

[spellwisp]

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.

[justice_is_blond]

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.

[snarksman]

"A couple of months, sure." Clint responds, finishing packing his quiver with the rest of the arrows he had prepared. He would need to pick up more supplies for them, just so he'd have more for his elixirs. He'd hate to run out in the middle of a battle.

"As for the mages, I haven't seen anything worse for wear? The Templars obviously stay to their side and the mages to theirs, but it's not any open rivalry." A pause, and he looks to the man. No recognition, but to Clint it seems like he needs somewhere to belong. Somewhere he's going to fit in. "You thinking of joining?"

[justice_is_blond]

"I am." He can't truly expect someone who isn't a mage to have a full grasp of the situation, but anyone would be able to sense tension if it's there. Archers in particular have to notice small details. Targets. Flaws. Weaknesses.

"It seems promising, from what I've heard. Do you mind if I ask what got you to join with it?" He's not expecting specifics, but another's perspective on what the Inquisition offers might be extremely useful. One point of view is limited, after all, especially when there's a second mind trying to make everything black and white.