faderift | [open] can somebody please just tie me down

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[open] can somebody please just tie me down

WHO: Barrow + you
WHAT: Bedrest and recuperation from Awful Things
WHEN: August
WHERE: mostly the Gallows
NOTES: I'll make starters if people want 'em

I.
Bedrest is ideal for people who like to read, or sleep, or sit around pondering life's mysteries. Although Barrow likes sleep as much as the next person, and reading is fine, he has little use for life's mysteries and finds more often than not that he is simply staring at the ceiling and unfairly wishing ill on the medic who impressed on him the need for his joints to mend this way.
He is, perhaps, a little grumpier than usual, but also absolutely desperate for any form of stimulation, so visitors are welcome. Especially if they have treats.

II.
When he's up and about again, Barrow knows better than to go straight to the training pitch and start swinging his hammer around, so instead he defaults to the more leisurely activity of ferrying off to the nearest pub and parking himself there to absorb whatever jollity is occurring at the moment.
He probably drinks too much, especially now, with so much going through his mind; but it's hard to help it, when there's very little else to do and so much he doesn't want to think about. At least he's a pleasant and agreeable drunk, not all that different from when he's sober, but with the sort of absent-minded nihilism that has historically made him either a good lay or a recipient for one's woes. He's rather more open to the latter these days, though the former has its place, at least for the right person.

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That sums it up pretty well. Twisting his mouth to one side, Barrow nods thoughtfully.

"What I can't get over," he admits, with some difficulty, "is that-- well it's--"
He sighs and rubs at the stubble on his jaw.
"--it's just humiliating, is the thing. Being... you know, on display in one's weakness."

Whatever was calm in Colin's face is replaced by something eerily similar but not at all the same: a distance, as if his ears have been filled with the sounds of bees and his core has gone numb. It takes him a moment to realize he is meant to react. He recalls what it was Barrow said and nods.

"Yes. It is." He collects a little more of his awareness. "People say the real shame belongs to the one did it to you. But he's not coming back to claim it, so you're the one left holding it."

Barrow notices, but doesn't rush him. He eats quietly, letting Colin collect his thoughts, and meets his answer with a thoughtful nod.

"At least I took care of him." He gazes down at his plate. "...wish that'd felt better, but I suppose if I enjoyed killing people I'd be a different sort of fellow."

"I'm glad you're not," Colin says gently, still feeling somewhat adrift but at least cognizant of what is being said. "That's worth holding onto."

A slow blink. "I don't know if I took care of mine or not. I half-expect him to turn up to kill me any day. Hopefully he just...got drunk and fell off a pier, or something."

Barrow grunts, and it's almost a laugh, but the bitter sort that has no humor to it.
"Well, if he ever shows up, you've got a crystal." His glance toward Colin is quite serious. "Can't imagine Riftwatch would suffer such a person." With the added implication that he, personally, certainly wouldn't.

"Why wouldn't they?" He doubts Barrow has all the information, but the bitter question is out anyway. Colin is an embarrassment before the Chantry, and as far as he knows, the leadership is aware of that. "Our commander used to be a pirate. We let in murderers all the time. We forgive murderers. Someone pushed Athessa down the stairs and no one's even found out who. Mages, though, mages are always trouble. You think they'd care about losing one mage? They have plenty of others."

Edited 2020-08-11 19:05 (UTC)

"Well."

Barrow hasn't been in Riftwatch long, and though his opinion of it is certainly already higher than Colin's, he recognizes that plenty of things go on without his knowledge.
...and apart from that, comments were made about leaving Poesia and himself behind in the dungeon, and he's still not totally convinced they were joking.

"...you can just tell me then."

Colin looks over at him, eyes softening considerably at the offer. Something in him has lifted. Here he came to lend an ear to Barrow's troubles only to find Barrow has dispersed some of his own.

"Not till you're off bedrest," he says with a teasing smile.

A melodramatic scoff and roll of his eyes indicates what Barrow feels about that, but he doesn't argue, instead shaking his head at Colin with a chiding smirk. Always gotta go back into doctor mode.

His profession is his armor.

"Can I ask you a question? You don't have to answer."

Intrigued, Barrow raises his eyebrows and gives a silent nod to prompt him onward.

"Why did you leave the Order?"

This is hardly a surprising development, though it is the reason Barrow was reluctant to name himself as a Templar in the first place: people always ask, and they always look at him differently after. But he's not a good liar, not about the important things, and doesn't fully see a reason to anyway.

"The Order left itself," he answers with a gentle smirk, "when the war started, everyone lost their minds. It wasn't what it was supposed to be, and... well, I'm not entirely sure I was ever what it was supposed to be."

He scratches at the back of his neck, looking thoughtfully down at his now-empty breakfast tray.

"I imagine you'd like to hear that it was for moral reasons, the injustices being committed against mages. In truth, it just dissolved, there was no accountability, and I didn't feel like fighting either my charges or my brothers in arms."
He shrugs one shoulder.

"There was no accountability. It was easy to leave. So I left."

Colin laughs softly. “So you left the Order exactly in the same way I left the Circle. If you’d given me some nonsense about resigning in protest for ‘moral reasons’ I’d’ve judged you then. Good people resigning just leaves mages with a lot of bad Templars.”

Visibly relieved when Colin doesn't immediately condemn him, Barrow chuckles.
"That's a good point," he muses, "and, you know. I don't like hanging around where I'm not welcome. Not many of our charges ever truly gave us cause for concern."
He hesitates.
"There are always exceptions, of course. But that's true anywhere."

Edited 2020-08-16 23:50 (UTC)

Colin nods. Something else in him eases when he considers it--no accountability for Templars who left at the start of the war means Lutair escaping a charge of desertion, but now, it seems a fair trade for Barrow's freedom. Possibly even a bargain.

"How would the Order need to change in order for you to go back?"

Barrow pauses, considers, and shakes his head with a wrinkling of his nose.

"I don't think I would, to tell the truth," he admits, "I don't belong there anymore. I'm not sure I ever actually did, but now to go back, regardless of changes, would feel... I don't know."
He shrugs.
"Disingenuous."

A soft smile. It's nice to talk to someone who knows who they are.

"You're a good man."

Immediately, Barrow returns the smile.

"Well. Thank you." He scoffs faintly. "I'm glad someone thinks so."

"Not everyone's good for rousing speeches and the like. We do what we can with the abilities given us." A little shrug. "I'm sure you did your best in your Circle. Which one was it?"

A light chuckle. "Jainen."

He pauses.

"The... other one in Ferelden." Aka, the one that didn't completely implode on itself.

Colin bobs his head. "Lucky. I made it to Kinloch just in time for the Blight. Though if I hadn't, I'd've died in the Battle of Denerim, so I suppose I'm lucky."

"Lucky you," Barrow agrees-- or rather, commiserates-- but spirits seem reasonably high.
"And just imagine, I could have red lyrium growing out of all my extremities. The things we miss when we stay behind."

A small chuckle, then Colin suddenly looks rather somber.

"They must be in so much p--" He cuts the mumble off because it's sort of a downer. "Um. Anyway. Maybe if there'd been more Templars like you. Or if we'd just...all been able to talk together instead of being kept so separate."

Barrow waves him off. "If there were more Templars like me, we'd be worse off than we are," he assures him with a self-effacing smirk, "now stop inflating my ego and go do your actual work, before Sawbones yells at me again."

Edited 2020-08-18 07:07 (UTC)

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