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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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Skyhold is as safe a fortress as they come, but stone walls and remote mountain vistas can actually leave one feeling a little closed in. Lost. They're nothing like the hills of Redcliffe, full of goats and fennecs and mountain vegetation, just austere grey and their little settlement here in the middle of it all, in a place that felt very much like somewhere humans were never meant to go.

And as much as she enjoys being helpful, being of use, and tending to others, she does on occasion need a moment to herself. Outside the walls the landscape is vast, open, and a reminder that the Maker really does work on a grander scale than any of them can fathom in truth.

She's bundled up, fur around her shoulders, expecting not to find anyone else save those traveling the road up to the castle. They'll think nothing of a plainly dressed woman on her own if they happen to pass, surely.

Imagine her surprise to see a familiar face lingering out here.

He can hear someone approaching, but there's no sounds that say the person is armored so Anders is relaxed as he continues what he's doing, only looking up when they get close. His fairly neutral expression turns warm when he recognizes her.

"Mia. What brings you out here?" He shifts the bundle of herbs into the corner of an elbow, making sure he's got a hand free in case she stumbles in the snow. Then again, she doesn't seem the sort of woman who would be wearing fancy, high-heeled shoes in the snow, so maybe she doesn't need it. No matter. At least he's prepared.

"Did the tavern songs finally get scandalous? Or did you need a little air?"

Indeed, she's dressed practically, boots and all. She's a Ferelden commoner, no matter her circumstances or relations. Even that fine cloak of hers is well-worn from travel and use, though obviously cleaned to the best of her ability and tended to where needed.

"Well, it's so hard to come by. Up here in the mountains." She smirks faintly, gesturing vaguely to their surroundings. "Perhaps I thought the quality would be different outside the walls, rather than within them. And what brings you out here, Detlef?"

Her eyes stray the herbs in his grasp. "Surely not running low on supplies already?"

He shrugs, seeking to play off the question a little. "You know. Sometimes, even when you've plenty of supplies, you worry that you'll need more. So having too much can..." Can be an absolute lie. He's lied plenty in his life, but it's exhausting.

Anders looks away. "I have to leave the walls sometimes. I need the reminder that I can." He'd run away so many times, needing freedom and air, a chance and choices. "These," the herbs get jostled, "make it a little practical. Not as practical as I'd like, but at least I'm not entirely shirking." He's weak. Weak, broken, and he knows it. Covering for it is getting hard among so many people who are actually nice and actually pay attention.

And who worry. She might not know much about him, other than he was a healer, very clever and very care-worn, but that was enough.

The wind whistled sharply around them in a sudden gust, and Mia's smile turned sympathetic. "I think they can spare you long enough for a little peace of mind," she replies after a moment, eyebrows lifting. "Even a healer needs to see to his own soul, now and then."

Her eyes follow his, across the rocky, snowy terrain, stretching out into the vast mists that swelled up from the mountain's base, obscuring anything too far down. "You couldn't have picked a better view to take in."

His soul. He's never put a lot of thought into that, and now it seems like it's a moot point. Whatever soul he'd been born with is soaked in blood hundreds of times over now, bent into its new shape by lyrium-enhanced armored fists.

For several moments he's quiet. "I could have. But the one I'd like to see is exceedingly far away, so this will have to do. Then again." He gives her a small smile as he looks at her. "The view is much improved, now. Would you like to walk for a time, Mia? We can discuss... Anything you'd like to discuss, really."

She clucks her tongue at the flattery, shaking her head. She'd dissuade him from doing so if she thought it were in earnest. Instead she pulls her cloak a little tighter. "A walk sounds lovely. And I would greatly enjoy the company."

There's a moment's pause, wondering if he'll extend an arm, if they even teach you how to walk with a lady in the Circle. What would be the point? It's not the first time she's felt a twinge of pity for the mages and their plight.

The pause does allow for a topic to arise. "And what view is it that you so long for? I'm curious now."

He doesn't extend an arm. It doesn't even occur to him, having never been told that's expected. Sure, it happens in romance novels, but he's not actually trying to tumble Mia into bed, or anyone else who doesn't know who he is. So he walks, nice and slowly, trudging through the snow and pausing here and there to look at the leaves of various plants to identify them while they go.

"My looks don't give it away? I admit, I'm very handsome, so you could be distracted." There's a flash of a smile at the end of that to say he's not being serious... or not too serious, at least. "Something a great deal more arid, warmer, more open, with the sea a blue jewel nearby and snow a far distant thing. No mud, no marshes, no mires." The Anderfels, and he's being a little evasive for poetry's sake.

Mia's lips purse. Handsome? Enough for some, perhaps. But her head's not likely to turn for any pretty face, and if he hadn't been teasing she might have told him so. She simply shrugs, far more intrigued by the description of this far off land.

"It's almost difficult to imagine. I've never truly been anywhere outside of Ferelden. But you paint a lovely image. I'm certain the view must indeed be spectacular." Her arms folding around herself beneath her cloak, the better to keep warm as they walked, snow-covered rocks crunching under their heels. "I've never seen the ocean, myself. I think I might need to, the way people talk about it."

So much for the joke about looks. She's an odd one. Flirts little, teases little, but does joke around. The stoic Fereldan archetype, supposed to be everywhere, but he's rarely met one before.

"I've traveled due to necessity more than desire. But what I've seen, I've appreciated the chance to see. Including the sea." There's a fast flash of a smile before he continues talking. "For me, the beauty of the ocean is more in its promise than anything else. I enjoy the sight of it, but if you're in a city and seeing it, your view will be obstructed by ships and docks and birds, while the smell of dead fish permeates everything. If you want to truly see it for what it is, find a spot where people are not."

Odd. Now that's something he'd find no argument with, least of all for her lack of interest in flirtation. But not a subject for conversation. At least not just now.

"That's rarely been a problem. I've only ever been to Denerim once, and that's the largest city I believe I've ever seen. You hear stories coming back from people about Val Royeaux, or Cumberland, or such places...your corner of the world feels a little smaller in comparison."

She chuckles, reaching to tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear in an absent gesture. "I'll admit feeling a little envious. And yet it seems everyone who sees these magnificent sights is always there for some other reason. Never just to appreciate where they are. It's the way of things, I suppose. Perhaps I'd be as distracted if I found reason to travel abroad."

"Well. I'll trade you. You can have a life of running in fear and apostasy, I'll hang out in the land of dogs and mud." There's no venom in the words, just mild amusement. No one would really want to trade.

"If I could have visited cities with time for sight-seeing and appreciation, I would have. And see? I'm appreciating now. But I find it's very difficult to appreciate things when one's looking over their shoulder in fear."

Maybe he'll get to see a place or two and simply look around, before he's caught and executed. That would be nice. ...Which means it probably won't happen.

"True enough."

And it's hard not to feel sympathy. It's no life to be lead, and from what she hears of the Circles it's little wonder they flee. "Does Skyhold offer some relief from that, at least?" she murmurs, and there's a small measure of concern there she can't quite help.

Anyone who just wants to spend their days healing people ought to be left in peace. However dangerous mages might be, this man obviously poses no threat to anyone.

Much of the time, he deflects through jokes and flirting, keeps himself at a safe distance. She doesn't respond at all to the flirting, though, and while she responds decently to jokes, she seems very serious. He's not hung out with many people like that. ...Just one, really. Aveline. But Aveline had never given a damn about mages getting relief.

Anders looks over at Mia. "Yes. There are other concerns, especially as the Templars reform, but no one's holding my phylactery and waiting for me to take a nap. And the ability to walk outside the walls... Yes."

There are no expectations here. That's why he's actually talking. They're not... friends, but they're not complete strangers. There's a distance and a safety in that distance even as they're friendly. He likes this, whatever it is.

"Then I'm glad. Truly."

The concern gives way to a warm smile, and with a nod her gaze turns back to the path they've taken. Maybe she's not very good at flirting, or receptive to it. Perhaps her sense of humor is a bit on the dry side. But even for someone she might not yet call friend she can feel relief that his troubles have eased, even a little.

Further proof that coming to the Inquisition was exactly what she needed to do.

"Ah, what's this?" Her eyes fall upon a small plant amidst the snow, and she breaks from the path to head towards it, kneeling down to examine the determinedly blooming blossom. "What a stubborn little thing."

He doesn't kneel right away. Instead, he's watching her for a few moments. He's met more than a few who care about people here, more than he'd ever run into in Kirkwall, or Denerim, or Amaranthine. There's no point in wishing that there had been more people who cared out there; the mage lives that have been lost can't be regained. There's a chance for change in the future, though, at least.

Kneeling down, he reaches out and touches one of the petals.

"Stubborn... and lucky. It's neither edible nor medicinal. No one needs to pull it up or pluck it. I could say something about adversity and beauty and all of that but that's too much of a metaphor for one flower in the snow. That, and if I did, something would happen to it. So let's go with lovely and safe and no comparisons at all. Especially as I think if I tried to compare you to a flower you'd punch me."

"Punch you. Goodness. The impression I must make. No wonder people skitter around me so nervously," Mia clucks, chuckling to herself as she watches Anders, his fingers grazing the blossom. Healers must all have a gentle touch, she thinks wryly, her own fingers curling into her palm.

"But it is a lovely metaphor. And apt enough for the lot of us, I should think," she adds, dark brown eyes shifting to rest on Anders now instead. "So let's just risk it and call it what it is. A tiny little miracle. We could certainly use more of them."

He flashes her a smile at the nervous skittering comment before straightening.

"A tiny little miracle." Justice doesn't agree that it should be called a miracle. It is simply something that grows, growing, doing what is in its nature. Anders, on the other hand, thinks it's fine. He's never seen a miracle, isn't rather certain he'll never see one, but that doesn't mean other people can't appreciate things that are out of the ordinary.

"A great many could use them, especially right now." Corypheus, a chance for mages to actually be free if they seize it, there's a great many things going on. One way or another, the future would be determined here. "I find myself wondering what the shape of things will be in five years, when once I considered fifty. It may even be dramatically different in one."

"Look around us. Change is already happening at an incredible rate." Drawing to her feet once more, her eyes turn towards Skyhold, now wreathed in a snowy mist at its base. It looks ethereal, like something plucked from another time, another world entirely.

She'd certainly never thought to live in such a place, albeit temporarily. And history is being shaped inside those walls for good or ill. A breath is taken before she reaches for her cloak once more, grasping it closer as a breeze rakes up the mountainside path.

"The world will never be the same again. That much I'm certain of. And here we are in the eye of the storm. Us lucky few." An eyebrow lifts at the mage. Doubtless he doesn't feel lucky, any more than she does. There only seems to be a sense of duty in him.

No, perhaps duty isn't the right word. She's not sure what it is, oddly compelling as it is. Perhaps that's just his way.

The quirk of her eyebrow gets a wry smile. Lucky. She doesn't mean it, and he understands completely. Never in his life has Anders been lucky. Oh, he thought he had been, for a few blissfully ignorant years, and then Karl had been taken away and he'd realized how fragile everything was. How there is no good luck, not for him.

Anders takes a slow breath and tilts his head back toward the fortress, taking an initial step in that direction. It's probably time he heads back anyway. There's been an alarming number of frostbite cases lately.

"Luck never comes through. Hard work does. With enough of it, maybe we can make certain that the change that comes is positive. ...Positive in our opinions, that is. Few Templars will see mages being treated like actual people as positive, but that's what I'll work to make last."

And he'll sacrifice himself if need be. Chances are he'll have to, but for his people's future, it's acceptable.

"You won't be alone."

Moving back in the direction of the path, Mia tips her head, trying to catch his gaze once more before continuing. "You've many allies here who wish the same. Everyone can see that mistakes were made, that the lives lost and ruined could have been avoided if we'd found a better way." Her lips curve wryly. "But it's easy to say that. Less so to suggest what a better way might be."

Therein lies the real challenge. Agreeing on anything is going to be an undertaking as great as challenging the Divine's murderer. She doesn't imagine she'll have much to add to conversation as it takes place, but she does hope for his sake that the talks take a better turn than the last time.

"Might be, or might have been," he echoes quietly. For all that people condemned his actions, for all that he regretted most of the lives lost that night, no one has ever suggested any alternatives that would have saved any blood spilled. Just as many would have died if he hadn't acted. It's not a comfortable thought, especially when most refuse to consider it.

"At least there are many here looking into it." An Elthina or Meredith wouldn't be permitted, here, nor an usurping Lord Seeker given the chance to destroy the conclave, if what he's heard is true.

He joins her in walking. "The greatest issue before was people choosing to ignore what was going on. Those who were dying or worse. It was behind walls, it didn't have to be any of their business. Now, with things out in the open, history hopefully can't repeat itself."

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[Open]

Outside Skyhold

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