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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"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."

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.

"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?"

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.

Oh, shit. Here she's been saying this Council will be watched by mages around the world and set precedents for how to move forward, and it's still basically an embryo.

"There's not much to hear, at the moment," she says carefully. "We've barely formed. But Councilor are elected, and all schools of thought are represented where possible. Dalish, apostates, Libertarians, Aequitarians, and Loyalists all."

A beat. "The Loyalists are loudest."

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.

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.

"Loyalists." There's an edge to his voice, one that has him taking a breath and trying to keep himself calm. How could they, though? How could anyone still speak in favor of being imprisoned by the Templars? Were they truly so afraid of themselves? Had they bought so deeply into the Chantry's teachings that they viewed themselves as curses and dangers?

"I don't understand how any mages can still be loyalists. Certainly there are dangers outside the Circle, but they're far more honest. A bear simply wants what it wants, there's no spite to it attacking. Templars, however..." Anders shakes his head. He can't even consider trying to speak to this Council. The risks are too high, especially if they're working with Templars. But this does mean that maybe he needs to be here despite the danger. There's no way they can allow Loyalists to be in charge.

A beat later a thought occurs to him, and he looks back at the Dalish. "As you're Dalish, is it safe to assume you're rather far from Loyalist?"

"'Never again shall we submit,'" she confirms, pausing her spinning to wind the ply around the spindle's crossed base. "I lied, I'm as loud as the Loyalists. They make fair points--problems have to be solved. Some of them really want to do the right thing. Others just think the right thing was being done for a thousand years and we should keep doing it. By their measure, I've never done the right thing, which is a bit odd. I've made it without being possessed thus far."

There's a flash of triumph in his expression at her first statement before it's gone again as he listens further. Anders isn't great at having any sort of straight face when gaming, but at least his frown can likely be taken as against the Loyalists and not any sort of commentary on possession. It's not as if he looks possessed, after all.

"They believe that being imprisoned for life and beaten on a whim, or made tranquil at someone's pleasure, or any other number of cruelties, are the right thing? They're fools." Not every circle was as bad as Kirkwall. He knows that. And there are ones that are far better than Kinloch, too, supposedly. But that doesn't change the fundamental imbalance that is Templars having power over mages.

"The biggest problem is the combination of fear and ignorance. Not a lack of Templars."

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."

Pel frowns, finding herself oddly defensive about Vivienne in particular. Vivienne is no fool, and her experience is clearly not the same as...this man's experience. The frown turns a little less displeased and rather more sympathetic.

"You've had a rough time," she says quietly as she starts spinning again.

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?"

She's Dalish. Of course she wouldn't understand. They couldn't. No mage who hadn't been-- He manages to cut off the train of thought, but just barely. All the things he would have said out loud just a few years ago could too easily draw attention here, and if they were to help at all he needed to not be hauled off to the hangman's noose. Especially not on the very day he's arrived.

"I'd have had easier if I wasn't so particular. After all, with as much waking-by-kicking as Templars do, surely there are some mages who enjoy that. It can't all be out of spite." Despite his focused efforts to stay calm, there's still bitterness in his voice. "Smiting, too. If all mages were like me and didn't appreciate it, then certainly the Templars would stop. They're such kindly people. I must be the outlier."

"Madame Vivienne is Enchanter to the Imperial Court of Orlais -- so she says, at any rate. Pro-Circle, as it were. Intelligent and well mannered, but I think debating with her would be unwise. Just a tip."

The inevitable question, of course. Twisted Fate gives a little sigh before he answers, "Hmm, let's go with both, for now. I haven't been in a clan for many years now, if that's the answer you're looking for." The elf shrugs. "What about you, eh? Apostate? First Enchanter? Something else?"

"Maker, no." Adelaide snorts a soft laugh, shaking her head. "No. The only one that sits guard would be myself to prevent templars from undue attention or meddling. On occasion my older students sit vigil as well but- no. No templars."

Much as she is willing to work with them when she must- in the dead of night old fears and ghosts linger. It is difficult to put them to rest. On the subject of- she reaches out to catch the man's elbow in one hand, already turning to walk him back to her tent. "You look dreadful- looking at you is leaving me exhausted. Come. I have tea and some stew in my tent. We shall see you rested, warm, and I will answer anything you have to ask, yes?"

"There's no debating someone pro-Circle. They've no facts on their side, so it would only be an argument." Leaving the Circles as-is would be the worst folly. And even more, it would undo every single gain mages had made, and render absolutely useless his actions in Kirkwall. More than useless.

"And as for me, I'm a mere apostate." It's a comfort to be asked. It means this guy doesn't actually know who he is. "Though I suppose nearly every human mage here counts as apostate, whatever their former rank. Welcome to apostasy. It never truly gets easier, but perhaps one day in the future it will."

He holds out a hand. "Detlef. And you?"

No Templar guards, and a fellow Spirit Healer who clearly doesn't want them. It's enough of a relief for Anders to attempt a weak joke, one of very few he's made in years.

"Dreadful? If this is an attempt at flirting, your technique leaves something to be desired." He puts up no protest at the guiding hand or the direction she takes, though. "If you'd opened with tea and stew, it would be stronger. Perhaps I should teach a different sort of class for your students. How to flirt, now that you're actually allowed to and the Templars can't beat you for it."

He's still on his guard, but even so he can't prevent the tiny flutter of hope at what he's starting to see and hear around the place. The freedom is limited. It's endangered. But there's some here, the start of lives, and if enough mages get to experience it they won't go back. They can't possibly go back.

"But first, yes. Please. Stew and tea sound excellent, and if you'd like you don't even have to look at me."

Flirting? Fli-

She stutters between her steps for a moment, ears faintly pink but soldiers on. What time does she have for-

None. The answer is none. As wry as she can manage she says, "As half of my students are under fifteen I'll thank you to not. I must already endure their swooning over other select mages of the Inquisition, I do not need it doubled."

And there was such swooning. And sighing. Honestly she didn't remember there being quite so much of either in her time in the Spire- but then she'd spent more time in the library than in the common rooms. "I will have to look at you as I am obligated to tend to you. A Councilor simply letting a new mage wander about in such a state? It'd look terrible."

Compassion wouldn't abide it either.

"Granted, I don't have all the knowledge of what Circle life is like, but I do sort of enjoy my freedom above the scrutiny of choices being made for me. But I suppose that's just my silly little apostate opinion, hm?" It's spoken jovially; it's clear that this mage comprehends all of that. It seems sensible to him.

"It's about all one can do, hope that the future will improve. But I guess we'll just have to start with dealing with this Corypheus business first. Fun."

The hand is taken with a light grip. "I go by Twisted Fate. A pleasure, Detlef."

It had been... He can't even remember how long it's been since he made someone blush a little. Not that it matters. He doesn't have the time either, and even if he did, his heart belongs with someone who has gone missing and likely never wants to see Anders again. Any further jokes about the other half of her students die on his tongue and he looks down. It's probably better for them, really. Flirting leads to hope, and he needs to keep his firmly in check with reality.

Anders stays quiet for several steps. He'd lost sight, just for a moment, of the situation and he can't afford to that.

"Councilor?" The question is hushed, with all of the former, faint levity gone.

Edited (repetition ) 2015-12-19 05:07 (UTC)

"Of the Inquisitions fledgling Council of Magi. Nominated by my peers for reasons I still cannot quite comprehend." They haven't been terribly forthcoming when she had mind enough to ask- so she has stopped asking. Soon enough she's ushering him into her tent, warmed by the brazier in the corner, kettle of tea waiting, the savory wafting of stew filling the rather haphazardly organized tent.

To anyone that wasn't a healer attempting to keep everything easily within arm's reach? It probably makes little sense. For her it works, even if she must clear away some of the poultices and salves to make room for bowls of stew and mugs of tea. "We are...attempting to act as a voice for the Inquisition's mages, Circle, Apostate, Dalish, Vashoth- sit."

Less an offer and more a command as she releases his elbow, fetching a tin mug to press into his hands. "On a scale of 'I probably walked an extra mile than usual' to 'I have been up for a week straight with nothing but tea and spite fueling me', how tired are you at the moment?"

"I mean as far as pursuit goes. Apostasy is far superior to being locked up." His grip isn't too firm either - Anders doesn't need to be memorable. Somehow he needs to manage average, forgettable, or at least he does for now while he's still taking a look at this place and getting a measure of it.

"And the pleasure is mutual." He's met several mages today and no Templars as of yet. It really is a pleasure. Their freedom is limited, but it's a beginning. "Though Corypheus will be quite the headache, or so I've heard."

They'd thought him dealt with. How this happened isn't an answer Anders has, and it isn't one he can dwell on. What he needs to figure out is some way to not wind up effected by the demon the way he was last time, and Anders can't think of any defenses for that. "Were you... do you have any first-hand experience with the thing? Corypheus, I mean."

Councilor, and not First Enchanter. They've ditched traditional terms. Anders finds that promising, though he selfishly finds the warm tent even more so. He sits quickly and holds his hands out toward the brazier until they're filled and warmed by a mug instead. Next time he ran, he needed to acquire a tent. Somehow. But that was a concern for another time because she was asking him a question.

The Councilor gets a weak half-smile. She's so much closer to the truth than she knows, with the spite comment, but he can't exactly say that. "I caught a rabbit a few days back, at least. So water, spite, and rabbit. It's not exactly safe to get sleep out there. And where it is, there are injured people."

She can feel what he is, or some of it. And with the way she'd so quickly ushered him here without even asking after name or background, he has a hunch she's made plenty of detours of her own when it comes to helping those who are hurt.

"But now I can add tea to that." He holds up the mug in a sort of thanks and toast before taking a sip. It's heavenly, being warmed outside and in and not having to worry about a campfire drawing Templars to a lone mage out in the wilderness. Again the all-too-dangerous threat of hope rears its head, but at least he can't put any stock into it this time. He won't be welcome here long. He can't get used to being warm again, especially when he doesn't deserve it.

"Rabbit, water, and spite. The refugee's traveling companion of choice." She snorts a soft sigh, no small wonder Compassion had been so insistent on offering their aid.

"After you eat and I make certain you are not about to collapse, I will walk you to the aforementioned quarters. No injured there. Camille is likely keeping watch at this time, she will ensure you are not bothered." Tea first, the magic pooling in her palm- blue and bright and soothing- second. Compassion's power spun with the intent to sooth, to ease the ache of travel and offer a wash of warmth to an otherwise chilled person. She's been making use of this particular variation on rejuvenation quite a bit as of late. More and more as travelers from the road return.

Adelaide offers her hand, the mist of power swirling about her fingertips, and a small vial of a potion that will do much the same with the other. "Which would you prefer?"

A choice most don't get- she makes use of her magic and moves along. But for a peer she can make a token attempt to be personable. Not all Spirit Healers liked having another mage's spells on them. Whether or not she might include him in their number, she'll see soon enough.

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[Open] No boom today. Boom tomorrow.

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Your username is so amazing

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I have a weakness for bad puns.

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