open: lol never mind.

[cozen]

WHO: Open!
WHAT: A memorial that doesn’t go as planned.
WHEN: Justinian 1
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: Nah.

The ceremony takes place in one of the side courtyards that’s been converted into a garden, where the oppressive architecture is offset with flowers and trees. There’s a small pyre, for those whose traditions call for pyres, but no bodies to burn. Instead there are tokens, flowers, favorite foods, treasured possessions—not yet lit.

(For the others, the Dalish and Nevarrans and anyone else with a different wish, their friends and family will have made different arrangements alongside the pyre, probably, if they aren’t universally reviled.)

Anyone who wants to speak, whether it’s a prepared speech or a single spontaneous sentence, can do so. The tone is respectful but only so solemn. It’s been more than a week. For many, the worst of the shock has passed, and the sun has continued to rise and set, and there’s room between bouts of misery for fond memories and occasionally laughter. The memorial is a door that’s closing—slowly, kindly—and tomorrow, on the other side of it, the war will continue.

Today, on this side, the only people judging anyone else for crying are the assholes.

***

Across the harbor, more than a dozen filthy and tired people come to a stop on the docks, and the loitering ferryman pauses to take stock of them, then starts laughing. There isn’t even any local mythology about ferrymen and the dead. It’s just that funny to him on its own, that he’s been rowing miserable people around all week, and here’s the source of all that misery, dirty and tired but significantly less dead than believed.

When he stops laughing, he offers to dunk everyone in the harbor before rowing them over. For the smell, you know. No one is going to be happy to see them if their eyes are watering too much to actually see them. Then he laughs some more at his hilarious joke.

But he does eventually load up his boat—and maybe there isn’t room for everyone all at once, maybe some dramatic reunions will be delayed, maybe some people will be even more fashionably late to their funeral than the others—and carries everyone across the bay, still chuckling intermittently.

***

In the courtyard, the speeches and anecdotes (and singing, perhaps) wind down to long silences peppered with murmurs or sniffling. Someone is preparing to light the pyre. And then the gate creaks open.

Comments

Anders, OTA

[justice_is_blond]

He hangs a little back once entering, feeling a mix of guilt and a familiar desire to be invisible. There are probably people hurt by the thought of his death, and there are probably people relieved. Anders brushes back greasy, dirty hair, looking around.

'I've made better entrances' gets considered and hastily discarded because he's also made worse. He settles after several moments on "Afterparty in the baths, then?"

[pinprick]

Miserable and completely forlorn Nathaniel doesn’t even look back at once. His mind has been in a rut since yesterday, when he heard the news. But when there are gasps, he turns his head with a scowl at whoever is disrupting—and it’s the very people being mourned here today. He freezes for a second, then bolts across the room so fast his feet barely touch the floor. He pushes someone aside, looking, until he hears that voice. His hands cup that beloved face, gazing and taking it in, and it’s really, absolutely him underneath the dirt. His arms are suddenly flung around Anders, lifting him off the floor and spinning him around.

[justice_is_blond]

The sudden charge has Anders throwing a barrier up on himself and a few around him on instinct before he sees that it's Nate. Anders clings to his husband, breathless, eyes closed, treasuring the moment.

"It's been so long," he whispers. A few months, in truth, but it's felt like an eternity since he last saw his husband. Since he last felt remotely safe. Then the whole of the situation hits him and he realizes he might not be the one struggling the most right now.

"Are you all right?"

[pinprick]

Nathaniel nods mutely against Anders’ shoulder, heedless of the filth and smell. He pulls back and kisses him over and over before cupping his face again and gazing into it. There are tears in his eyes.

“You’re really here?” he says hoarsely. “This isn’t a dream?”

[justice_is_blond]

He returns the kisses and gaze, to the sounds of disgust of someone nearby. Possibly Kostos, but Anders isn't looking around to check. The only person that matters is here in front of him.

"I'm really here, love. If I'm not dreaming of being reunited with you, then you're certainly not dreaming." Anders loops his arms around Nate's waist and leans in again, feeling the bulwark of Nate's presence settle in around him.

"When did you..." Another detail hits him and he trails off before continuing with a great deal of regret in his voice. "I lost your locket and ring. They took, I'm sorry. I didn't give them up easily."

[pinprick]

Nathaniel pulls away far enough to draw a chain out from around his throat. Hanging from it is the locket as well as the silver ring. He wastes no time unclasping it and passing both back to Anders.

“They were given to us as proof of your deaths,” he explains, face going mottled with red as he speaks. “They said your bodies were burned.”

[justice_is_blond]

His breath catches as the chain's pulled out and offered back. Instead of taking it, Anders holds up his hand.

"Will you put them back on for me?" Proof of death. The ferryman had illuminated part of the situation, but now more of it is clear. Nate's here for the funeral. He'd genuinely thought Anders dead, and for good reason if he has those. His poor husband. "As a reminder that we're both here. Together. For real."

[pinprick]

Nathaniel nods and moves around Anders, clasping the locket around his throat. He comes around to slide the ring onto his finger, and his face crumples when it is done. His arms wrap around Anders again, and he kisses him deeply this time rather than frantically. He’s back. He’s alive. They’re together, and he can’t remember being so happy after such sorrow except, perhaps, when he learned Delilah was alive.

Now he must step aside to allow others to greet Anders, while he looks for Teren. But he doesn’t go far.

[altusimperius]

The voice providing commentary is familiar, and Benedict turns to see who spoke it, doing a double take when it clicks in his mind who exactly he's looking at.
He stands there in awkward bewilderment for a time, watching the reunion with Anders' husband, and when they finally break apart he spares the man a confused if melancholy smile. what the fuck man

[justice_is_blond]

He gives Benedict a tight smile back. That's more along the lines of what he'd expected, since Nate being here hadn't been a possibility that hit his mind.

"Things didn't... go as planned. Clearly," he offers up. Only a couple of weeks ago he'd offered to be there for Benedict, and then he'd not shown up when expected. It can't offer any sort of confidence.

[altusimperius]

Contrary to what Anders might think, Bene isn't offended-- if anything, he's relieved, and certainly bewildered. "...that's an understatement," he says with a smirk, and steps forward to clasp his hand familiarly.
He's not much of a hugger, though it happens sometimes.

[justice_is_blond]

The smile warms and he grasps Benedict's hand back, covering it with his free one.

"Contrary to popular belief, I'm prone to understatement. Most can't handle the full truth of the matter. How are you?" It's really good to see Benedict here. Wren had tried to get Anders to give up on Benedict, write him off as a lost cause and just advocate for the southern mages, but Anders hadn't been willing to do so. He feels more justified every day.

"And if I pull you into a hug would that be unwanted or acceptable?"

[altusimperius]

"No, that's-- fine," Benedict says, still haltingly, still a little off-kilter even as he leans forward into a proper hug. His embrace is tight, one might even say clingy, his fingers digging into Anders' back as though he's afraid he'll disappear.

Because people do disappear, here.

[justice_is_blond]

That's a far tighter hug than Anders had expected, but he's not complaining. He likes hugs. After a solid, excellent few moments he releases Benedict and steps back, smiling.

"Sorry, I probably should have done the whole bathing thing before that. But it's... It's somehow, actually nice to be back in Kirkwall. I never thought it would be, honestly." The city hasn't done him right much of the time. "And I'm not sure what someone says when they come back from the dead. I've never done that before either."

[keenly]

A couple of people get to Anders first, but at last it is Colin’s turn, and he throws his arms around him.

[justice_is_blond]

Anders holds Colin back, tightly.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I didn't know, I couldn't have changed anything if I did, we moved as quickly as we could, but..." But nothing. He'd hurt people around him and he hates it.

[keenly]

“Don’t.” Colin pulls back with a tearful smile. “I’m just glad you’re back. I missed you so much.”

He wipes at a tear that fell from his eye.

“It’s a shame you missed your wake, though.”

[justice_is_blond]

He can't repeat the sentiment, exactly. He's glad to see some of these people, but Anders hates Kirkwall and since he didn't think anyone dead he didn't exactly miss anyone. But he can give Colin's shoulder a quick squeeze before he lets the young man go.

"Is it?" Anders glances toward the front of the building. "I'm a little surprised I'm not burning in effigy up there, truth be told."

It's said lightly, but he can't deny that ever since the ferryman had explained the chuckling he's been wondering if there were some celebrating and wanting to turn this into an international holiday of sorts. He shouldn't think about that. It doesn't help anything. But he does nonetheless.

"Was there at least good food?"

[keenly]

“The best,” Colin says with a weak laugh. “And a lot of very good drink. No effigies, though. No wishes of good riddance. Just a lot of very sad people.”

[justice_is_blond]

He didn't want to make people sad, so the answer gets a brief grimace... but there's a weird relief to Colin's words as well. He could be forgotten by people eventually. Even those who see him on a regular basis. Which means that maybe, someday, he'll not even be a footnote in the history books. That would be nice.

"I really am sorry," he says again. "Obviously being captured isn't on my list of favorite activities, but maybe we should have tried harder to leave some sort of sign when we escaped. Though I'm... I'm not entirely clear on why we were reported dead? The ferryman didn't have that particular detail."

[overharrowed]

There are other people who get to see Anders first; other people that Anders will first want to see. But Julius was at the memorial because of course he was.

(He'd had the thought, when he'd gotten the news, that he wasn't even completely sure if he and Anders had made up after the Divine election. He wasn't sure they had been fighting in the first place, exactly. Old disagreements and new sharp edges pushing up against the long, long weight of their history seemed of a piece with their complicated relationship, but in this particular case it had made his grieving awkward and inward and a bit guilty.)

When Anders has a moment to look around again, he may catch Julius' eye from a short distance away. Julius doesn't rush over, unsure of his welcome even now. But he raises a hand in greeting and offers a shaky smile of relief. Whether or not Anders wants to talk to him just now, it is a novel and not unpleasant experience to be at a memorial that turns out purely unnecessary.

[justice_is_blond]

He meets Julian's gaze and raises a hand back. Their last conversation had been... complicated, but if he held grudges for every complicated or difficult conversation he'd be absolutely alone. Someone grabs Anders' sleeve and he's distracted for a moment, but as soon as that's done he pushes through the crowd to join Julius.

"Sorry. You don't get to be the oldest mage survivor of Kinloch Hold just yet." There are probably others out there older than both of them, and Anders doesn't even know which one of them is the oldest, but it's the first thing that comes to mind that isn't 'I'm really glad you looked happy to see me and not disappointed' so he's going with it.

"Are you, um. How are you?"

[overharrowed]

"No one thought I was dead," Julius points out, mild. But he offers a hand, all the same. "It is good to see you. I've been to enough funerals that ended the normal way, they're always wretched."

There'd been even more people he lost where he hadn't had a chance to attend any sort of funeral. It's a small reprieve, being wrong about a loss this once. For all he'd pulled away from other people who'd known Anders, rather than toward them, he'd been grieving it in his own way.

"I'm sure there will be a more general answer to where all of you have been, so for now, I'll just ask whether you're well?" Beyond the obvious road-wear, it's hard to tell.

[justice_is_blond]

He shakes Julius' hand gladly, smile going a little wry.

"People thinking I'm dead doesn't hurt me," he says quietly. It's the ones he'd left behind he's feeling for right now more than himself, which is part of why he half-answers Julius' inquiry with a shrug. "I'm never going to be all right being held or feeling my magic being taken away, but I survived again. Survived and got away again. That counts for a good deal."

As does having a place to run to, even if it's Kirkwall, and people there. Anders needs people. He needs his people, and whether or not he and Julius see eye-to-eye on the Current Pressing Matters of the Day, Julius is included in that group.

[overharrowed]

Julius' expression flickers toward a smile. "I suspect you may have learned to set the bar a bit low, though I can't entirely blame you for that." All of them have interesting definitions of "fine" these days.

"Maker, I don't know what to say, though, I've never had someone turn up at their own memorial on me before." It's enough, at least, to wring this much honesty out of him.