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WHO: Anders and You*! (*unless you are someone who will turn him in. ONE DAY THERE WILL BE CR. /reaches sadly)
WHAT: Detlef going about his days, helping out, being argumentative, everything
WHEN: Mid-Wintermarch
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Probably nothing? I'll edit if that changes

Healing tents

Anders is found in these most often during the day. Everything's easier when he works, really, when he and Justice can both be on the same page. They're doing good. They're furthering the cause of mage freedom. And more importantly, no one is being hurt. Are you a patient? He's probably checking you over before getting to work. Co-worker? Hand him the elfroot salve, please? Or just drop by and find him where he's most willing to be chatty as he works.

Garden

There's nothing like seeing a mage seemingly talking to a tree. Considering previous events, it's probably a little worrying. But upon closer approach one can see that there's a terrified cat clinging to a very small branch that's just barely supporting its weight, and they can hear the mage trying to talk the cat down as if the cat can understand anything that's being said.

"You can do it. Just step... Come on. A little lower. Please?"

Just outside Skyhold

There's a garden inside the walls. It has plenty of things growing in it, including basically everything Anders is looking for. It's hard for him to stay inside the walls for too long, though. He needs to be outside, to wander some, to remind himself that the walls aren't keeping him in. While it isn't the healthiest method of coping, there are certainly worse ways to go about it.

Anyone running into him out here gets a look that's a mix of surprised and bashful - the latter due to him not really having any way to explain why he's out here with a handful of easy-to-get herbs in hand.

Library

He's seated in the Library, head buried in a book the way it never was when he was at the Circle, with a pair of large tomes next to him. They're probably not that surprising for a spirit healer, treatises on spirits and their nature, but he doesn't look pleased. And he isn't. He's not finding anything that will help with his situation, and Anders is aware that he might not have a lot of time left for the looking.

Approaches from strangers get a glance up and a nod, before he'll ask if they need to get to something past him. Known people get asked a little absently how their day is going before he turns another page.

[Or] Alternately, he's curled up off to the side, on the ground, paging through a book on obscure magic that talks about various rumored spells that the author doubts really exist. His attention is primarily on the shapeshifting portion, and he looks a little wistful. Anyone approaching who glances at the book get a half-smile and asked if it wouldn't be fun, being able to transform into animals.

Wildcard

[Hit him up wherever? He grabs food in the kitchens on the go, sometimes is at the tavern in a corner near the back, sits on the walls and looks out sometimes, surreptitiously feeds the stray cats around skyhold (and scolds any dogs that try to take the food,) and may, every now and then, see if he can zap armor in just the right way so straw and fabric and all sorts of things stick to it.]

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"Admiral? So the big boat turned into a big fleet." The amusement is lost amid him wondering how much would have changed if he'd just run off with her, lifetimes ago. He might be a mage in her fleet, now, Justice-free, carefree, might have met Hawke anyway in Kirkwall and had their adventures without the Warden time... and it didn't happen, so there isn't a point in wondering.

"I'm sorry I've missed you until now, personally. But there's been so many people to heal that I've been busy. However, I'm not busy now. Would we like to go somewhere private and talk things that spark in the night?" It's not quite as witty as it could be, or as it used to be, but this last year's been better in between all of the running and hiding. He's been more hungry and more alone, but there's been so much he can do for mages. It helps.

"Big enough I could hide a stowaway or two if need be," she says with a conspiratorial wink.

"Well, we're talking now, but you're right. Come on, follow me. And... let's take the long way, shall we?"

She leads him out onto the battlements, and around the keep until she reaches the tower above the tavern. There's a room off of the second level that has very clearly been claimed by the lady pirate.

"There we go. My little space. Feel free to talk freely here. I checked--the sound doesn't carry."

A stowaway. It's strange, having a little more hope in this whole situation. There's a way out that he hadn't ever expected, if he needs it. And the hope leads him to be quiet the whole time they walk their way over. He has options. He has friends. Despite it all, he's not alone.

It leads to him wearing a small smile when they enter the room, and he's relaxed enough to raise an eyebrow at the comment.

"Was it hard, sound-checking? Or did things just get hard in the process?" Anders takes a seat, wondering if some things really were this simple. Few parts of his life ever had been. Even being in the Wardens had gotten difficult. But Bela didn't like complicated, didn't tend to go for it. It's nice. Very nice. That doesn't mean he can keep things from going into slightly more complicated territory, though.

"...And, say, if someone found themselves in need of becoming a stowaway suddenly in the future, how would they make that happen?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she teases.

"Being a stowaway isn't that hard, Detlef--no, really, how did you get that name? Is that really what your parents named you? No wonder you changed it. It would explain a lot. Anyway. It's all a matter of being in the right place at the right time. You find a ship and you sneak on board when the crew isn't looking. Especially if they've gone into town on shore leave. That makes it easy. Or you could always disguise yourself as a crew member. There's a lot of turnover for cabin boys and deck swabs. Probably the hardest part is choosing the right boat to get you where you need to go," she says airily.

"You want to know what the hardest part of being an admiral is? Coordinating everything. Shipments, payments, courses, the best times and places to intercept another ship. You have to know who is where and when. If I didn't love the job so much, I never would have taken it. Fortunately, I keep everything all nice and neat in the logbook." She gestures at a thick, leatherbound volume on a desk wedged into the corner.

"It's not what my parents named me, thank you very much." He's not going to go into the more difficult details, like how he hadn't changed it, that had been the Templars when he didn't wind up understanding the language they spoke, and how he doesn't even remember his name. That's not something Isabela would care to hear. Which is fine. Her friendship is easy, relying on the easier memories and jokes rather than delving deeper into all that's gone wrong.

"And you know, you could hire someone to keep track of things in the logbook. Someone who has good handwriting, experience with managing a group of people..." His voice is light and teasing. He can't leave the Inquisition, even for a good job, even if she was interested in hiring him. He's here to help mages. Writing logs for Isabela's fleet wouldn't do that, and Justice would feel completely powerless and useless. It would be bad for everyone.

He grabs a chair and sits in it, leaning back and looking her over. "You look well, Isabela. Admiralty suits you. What else have you found that suits you?"

It might be nice to just... talk, really.

"It's not? Huh. Well, whatever floats your boat." She shrugs.

Her eyes glitter with mischief.
"Well, I can't let just anyone handle those books. They'd know all the movements of my fleet. All the plans. All the cargo. If they got sloppy or let something leak, there'd be hell to pay."

She also takes a seat, lounging easily.
"Glad you think so. Apparently, Castillon proved a surprising reference. Not too many people wanted to get in my way after him. Takes up a lot of time, though. I take whatever leisure I can. But the clothes that come with the job are phenomenal. You should see my hat collection."

He lets the name conversation go. There are a great many things he can speak about with Isabela without worries, but he knows how she is when things get heavier. As Anders appreciates his time with her he won't go there. Not right now, at least. If she pursues it some other time, he'll talk. For now, she's smiling and lounging and he doesn't want to break up a pleasant mood. Including by speculating on how he'd do fine with a bookkeeping job, but Justice? No, Justice would wreck it. Possibly intentionally.

"I should see your hat collection. I should see you in just your hat collection." And here's another difference between his conversations with Isabela and just about anyone. She knows all he's done, and yet if she turns down the blatant opening, it's still not personal. It's not because of who he is and what he is. It's because she's not in the mood, or not in the mood for him in particular, which makes hitting on her entirely risk free.

"Or maybe I can strip down and try on hats too. That could make for a pleasant time. I've always been fond of the ridiculous ones." A beat, and his smile reaches his eyes. "Warden Cousland had a habit of finding absolutely awful ones that were enchanted and strengthened spell casting. Our other mage, Velanna, would practically tear his head off if he offered her them, but it meant I had quite the collection after a time."

At first, his brazen invitation makes her raise her eyebrows in surprise, but that doesn't last long, as her expression shifts into a playful smirk.

"That so? Too bad I missed that," she laughs, getting up and pulling out a chest. Opening it, yes, there is a fantastic assortment of hats inside. On her own head, she places an Orlesian-style bicorn, trimmed with ribbons and lace and feathers, and then she comes over to him, and plops a bi-forcated tricorn on his head.

"Now, this isn't the whole collection, of course," she says, "But it's a good start." She loosens the laces on her bodice as she sits beside him, her hip nudging up against his. "You sure your friend doesn't mind this?"

It's been a while since they've seen each other, and he's not surprised by her surprise. The lack of outlets for Justice and building strain had required more sacrifices on Anders' part. Here, though, he's had more chances to give the spirit release, so to speak. Bandits, red templars, regular templars he catches in the act of attacking mages, they're all fair game. Justice can feel more fulfilled, and Anders has some room to breathe.

And do a little more.

The smile on his lips strengthens as he adjusts the hat on his head, and a little more when some of the laces get worked on. Anders reaches over to toy with the end of one lace, meeting her eyes as he does so.

"Doesn't mind isn't exactly the precise way to put it." Justice minds. Justice minds nearly everything. Flirting, having one single drink, reading for pleasure rather than need, stopping to pet the stray cats, the list goes on and on. "In his mind I should still be working, even though I put in a good ten hours today. Therefore, in my mind, he only gets a vote on larger things. He can tolerate this. And I can enjoy it. We're finding better ways to work things out. Which is a great many ways to say I'm not going to suddenly be glowing here."

"You're not? That's almost too bad. Glowing adds its own excitement to things. Does that mean I won't be getting the electricity thing, then? Because that, my dear, would be positively criminal," she purrs, tracing a hand up Anders' thigh.

"Really, though, Justice--and I know you can hear me in there--you should be thanking me. I know my men always focus so much better after I've let them have little time to themselves. More so after shore leave. So, let us have our respite, and then we can worry about doing the things we must rather than just each other."

With that, she laughs softly, and draws Anders into a kiss. It's almost sweet at first. She's missed him. She's missed this part of him. But she's never been one to dwell on sentimentality, and playfulness and passion soon overtake the sweetness.

Normally Justice likes being addressed, acknowledged as being there. Right now? Right now he finds it annoying. Yes, they're working, but they could be doing so much more if Anders would just stop indulging himself in wasteful ways. That gets pushed back to the back of Anders' mind, though, because they've indulged Justice enough for the day. It's Anders' turn.

The kiss starts to deepen and he makes a very pleased noise as he slides his hands around her waist. She is the perfect shape, warm muscles and curves, and he explores before shifting, urging her onto her back.

When the kiss breaks, she gets a smile. "That's a whole other glowing entirely. I think I can keep from being criminal tonight."

"Oh, good, I was hoping you'd say that," she teases.

She lets Anders push her onto her back. Normally she favors a top position. She knows he knows that. But... this is a special occasion. And she can still take charge from the bottom.

"Mmm. It's been far too long, Anders..."

It has been too long, and he really wants to side into her at his pace, savor the moment more. Otherwise, he'd certainly go for her favorite.

"I agree. But careful with the name." She can get loud. He enjoys it very much, but right now he needs to stay hidden. To help with that, he leans down to claim her lips with his even as he's pushing up her tunic and seeking to get clothing out of the way.

"I'm never going to be able to take that new name seriously, just so you know."

She kisses him just as eagerly, moving with him so he can get the clothes off.
"Careful. I don't think you want to be getting cut." Indeed, there's a dull metallic clanking as the cloth hits the floor.

"I don't see why everyone's complaining," he mutters between kisses along her neck. "It's a perfectly good, very common Anders name." Not like it matters. He wouldn't care if they were all outright laughing at it. It wasn't his name, not like he knew what that was anymore.

He fumbles with his own belts and buckles next, dropping things on a heap to mix with hers. They can sort it out later. For now, he's sliding fingers down to find her clit and brush it. He'll only have charge for so long. Might as well use it to the best he can.

"Ander people must not have any better pastimes than to name their children things like that," she teases, and then gasps sharply to feel his fingers stroking her.

"Ah, damn! A little more..." she coos.

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Another NSFW warning, LOL

Isabela is a walking NSFW warning, LBR.

This is very true.

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