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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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The moment someone stops in their tracks to look at him his mind is running a million miles a second, verifying that he can make a break for it to the right, that he can't see any Templars, going over his heading all over again... but there's no yell. No shout. No weapons drawn, and the person is now nervously approaching? So he's been recognized again, but by a friend. Anders breathes out and lets them approach, only looking up once addressed.

It's the Seeker. Sweet Maker have mercy, it's the Seeker. Varric is going to kill him.

And she's asking about the book?

For a moment, all Anders can do is stare. He's face to face with a woman who has to be Cassandra Pentergast, and she wants to know if he likes Varric's book. This is impossible, and that feeling is written all over his face.

"...If Varric sent you to ask that, I'd like to preemptively report a murder. His." Anders clears his dry throat and shakes his head. Skyhold is ridiculous, he's deciding. Everyone is apparently arriving here, people actually still care, and a woman who must be Cassandra Pentergast is asking about a book rather than simply arresting him.

Anders looks down at the book, actually considering it. This can't be a ploy. Why would a Seeker need a ploy to arrest a well-known and basically universally wanted criminal? But at the same time, he's still a little tense.

"It's not bad." If the main character wasn't so clearly Aveline, he'd enjoy it more, but taken away from that... "I've got a theory on how it all went down, but I'm no guardsman."

Edited 2016-01-25 01:26 (UTC)

Varric? Cassandra blanches, but quickly composes herself. It's nothing. Varric had written the book, of course his name would come up...and apparently he does know everyone in Thedas after all. It doesn't mean...it doesn't mean anything. He doesn't know anything.

Somehow, she manages to banish all thought of Varric from her mind, and concentrate on the man - a mage, based on his dress - now thoughtfully considering the book. He's not...he's not laughing, or looking at her strangely for asking about it. The light shines on his golden hair as he bends his head, and then he looks up again, meeting her eyes, and -

Oh no, he's hot.

Cassandra settles her expression into a scowl to mask her thoughts. ~~An attractive mage who reads romance novels? Be still her heart.~~ "A theory?" she says instead. The thought of discussing theories about Swords and Shields is...tantalizing, to say the least. She's been dying to do so ever since she finished the latest chapter, but the only person who has any idea she's even read the books is Leliana, and, well.

But to look too eager now will do her no good at all. What if she is too enthusiastic? What if he tells someone else?

What if he tells Varric?

"A theory," she repeats, her voice hard, and crosses her arms across her chest. Anyone looking at them would think she was interrogating the man. But better that than to appear to be actually discussing Swords and Shields. "My own theory is that the mage is responsible for it all. Everything that went wrong can be traced back to him."

She's rather proud of that theory, actually. She'd combed over the book for hours, reading and rereading, searching for clues and hints that might mean something later. But there's no way to be sure, not until the book is finished. For now, all they can do is speculate, and she watches the man with an almost disturbing intensity, breathless as she waits for his own thoughts.

She's glaring at him, he realizes, when he looks back up. She's glaring at him, and blaming a mage for everything. Is this a trap? Does she know he's the mage responsible for something considered very wrong? Anders' heart is in his throat as he tries to find words or argument. Surely she wouldn't toy with him if she knew. Surely. That doesn't fit anything he's heard of her. No. She has to be really talking about the book. Maybe.

He licks his lips nervously and clears his throat. Her arms are crossed which means she can't get to a weapon quickly which has to mean she's not about to arrest him. He'll go with that, despite how she's just... staring. That's disconcerting to say the least.

"The mage?" he finally manages. "That's your inherent prejudice speaking. It's not the mage. Everyone wants it to be the mage because they've been the scapegoat for forever. Crops failed? Mage. Someone fell ill? Mage. You're meant to fall into the trap of suspecting him because it's easy. Read it again."

Anders closes the book, still waiting to see how this is all going to go wrong. "The lead scout of the invading forces is charming, cunning, had the chance to do it, and had a motive - destabilizing the entire city. All the mage wanted to do is survive."

Of course a Seeker would be suspicious of a mage wanting to survive and be free. Anders might also be feeling a little defensive because behind some of those grand strokes he can see where inspiration for the mage came from and really, Varric? They're going to have some talking to do. Preferably before Anders admits that Cassandra questioned him.

"Inherent prejudice?"

Cassandra bristles. All that time composing her theory, doublechecking passages - she'd all but taken notes, and he dismisses it as inherent prejudice? He hadn't even considered her idea before shooting it down.

"Perhaps it is you who are prejudiced, mage," she says, her tone sharp. Perhaps overly sharp, considering the subject of discussion - but she has a lot of feelings, okay? She shakes her head sharply in frustration. As if she had not considered the scout first! "The scout is too obvious. A red herring. He is far too charming, his motive too simple. The reader is meant to suspect the scout." Her hands settle on her hips, the right one drifting unconsciously to the hilt of her sword as she glares at him. So disappointing. She finally finds someone else who has read the books, and this is all he has to offer? "But to those who see the truth, the mage is obviously the guilty party."

"And the evidence against the mage is too easily found."

This isn't smart, arguing with her, aggravating her, but she'd asked his opinion and the guilty party isn't the mage. For one, Varric wouldn't have given Anders the book if that was the case. For the other, he's read the book.

"I am biased. Every person is. And for that reason I looked very carefully at the case against the mage. He's been set up. The author knows suspicion will naturally go to any mage, and played on that, and you walked right in. The other reason the mage looks suspicious? The pirate."

He's thankful that if the Anders-like character had to be romantically linked to someone, it's the pirate and not the angry Elf warrior. Then again, Varric wouldn't have given Anders the book if that had been the case.

"The time that's missing in both of their stories only makes sense with the bruise on the mage's neck. They were together, yes. But they were together. They weren't committing murder. I'll allow that maybe the scout is too easy, but the mage is not guilty. Where does that leave us?"

She doesn't appreciate being accused of being played, not least of being played by Varric Tethras, and it shows in the glower on her face. Even so, she's far too invested to just walk away.

"The pirate -" she begins, nearly speaking right over him. Yes, of course she'd suspected the pirate at first, anyone would, but -

"You are reading into things that are not there," she says, her voice cold. "That bruise -" She can feel her cheeks starting to burn. Oh, why had he put those images in her head? "That bruise could be from anything. It could have been caused by the shaft of an arrow, or an errant spell. You -" Frustrated and unable to explain herself, she lunges forward, snatching the book out of his hands. "You do not deserve this!"

All in all, today was a pretty nice day. The weather wasn't terrible, he'd gotten a great deal of correspondence finished, and he'd even managed to take a break before more work suddenly manifested on his table. He'd gone to snag a cup of tea (which must have been a recent delivery considering that it wasn't stale yet) and he'd ambled back into the Great Hall just in time to hear the dulcet tones of the lady Seeker's voice as they drifted in from the courtyard.

"I wonder who she's haranguing today?" Varric mused to himself as he strode past his chair and stepped out of the hall. He wasn't usually the kind of dwarf who took enjoyment out of other people's misfortune, but even he enjoyed watching new recruits cower as Cassandra put them through their paces. The last time he'd heard her shouting so loud, one of them had fainted.

This would be an easy laugh.

Except it wasn't.

What he spied when he stepped out onto the landing was markedly less funny than he was expecting it to be. In fact, it was pretty much the exact opposite of funny. Cassandra Pentaghast was looming over Anders, hand on her sword, indignation written in her stance, practically shouting at him. Varric couldn't actually make out her words and, honestly, he didn't have time to try.

"Shit."

He abandoned his mug on the steps, basically dropping it in his haste to put it down, and accidentally doused some poor passerby with tea. Varric ignored the indignant shout as he hurried (casually, so very, very casually) toward the impending catastrophe. When he finally got to the pair of them, his heart almost stopped as Cassandra lunged for the mage--

...and nothing happened...

--when Anders failed to suddenly crumple over dead, or break out in creepy spirit lights, Varric was...well, mostly confused, but also pretty relieved.

"You do not deserve this!" Cassandra shouted and drew herself up, a book held aloft in one hand. Anders, probably due to some crazy mage-and-book related reflex, decided that reaching after it and trying to snatch the thing back was a good idea. Varric was going to kill him--

His plans for murder were abruptly lost when he realized what book she was holding.

"Andraste's ass!"

The blasphemy was reflexive and, as all blasphemies were wont to do, immediately drew the attention of all the devout believers in a ten-foot radius. In this case, that meant Cassandra. Her indignant glare landed on him and, in a truly miraculous recovery, Varric remembered how to bullshit and promptly added:

"I know that book is terrible, Seeker, but you can't just take it from people. Nobody deserves it, but he did buy it. Really, he brought this on himself."

His fleshed-out background was in there. Cassandra had the book in hand, and the papers Varric had written and included, the very reason for Anders to have the book in the first place, were tucked in the book's pages and shit. Shit, shit, shit.

He's stopped mid-lunge by Varric's swearing. It's probably at him just as much as it is at Cassandra, really. Anders should have tucked the papers into his belt pouch before reading, but he'd been curious. And now everything hangs in the Seeker's hands. Literally. If she sees them, puts two and two together, especially with Varric right there, he's dead. He is absolutely dead.

"What he said. And shouldn't you be yelling about your theory at him?" Anders gets his hands back on the book, but doesn't jerk it away. Instead he holds it closed. That's what really matters.

"It wasn't the mage, and in case it wasn't the scout I offered you the chance to possibly work on a theory together, and this is your reaction? Give me my book back. Now. Please."

Before the papers fall out.

Cassandra turns reflexively to glare when the shout rings out - and freezes. It's not just anyone callously taking Andraste's name in vain. It's - of all people - Varric Tethras, and he's standing there making terrible jokes as she stands, caught red-handed in what nearly amounts to a physical altercation over Swords and Shields.

What had she been thinking?

She releases the book instantly, the mage's terrible and incoherent theories all but forgotten. He is still talking, still going on about the book, and she shoots him a dark glare. Shut up shut up shut up -

"I was not -" she begins. Too loud. Maker save her, had she been yelling? She stops, lowering her voice.

"It does not matter," she hisses, still glaring at the mage, trying to communicate to him without words do not tell anyone about this. "Forget it. Just -" At a loss, she rounds on Varric, jabbing a finger at him accusingly. Anything, anything that will draw his attention away from the book. "You! You need to watch your language. You are in the service of the Inquisition now. Have some respect."

Varric's inner monologue is running about a thousand 'Thank the Maker' prayers, simultaneously, when Cassandra releases the book. Blondie hadn't tried to yank it away from her (again, 'Thank the Maker') but the speed with which he took it back once she let it go? That was impressive.

He would have motioned to the mage, implied that he run with a gesture or a look, but Varric wasn't about to take the Seeker's momentary confusion for granted. She rounded on him, as she does, and reprimanded him for cursing like he'd just done it in front of the Divine herself. (Which was ridiculous, he knew, because Cassandra would probably kill anyone who swore in front of the Divine. He was about 60% certain that was actually what the Right Hand did.)

"Who doesn't have respect? Surely you aren't implying that I am disrespectful?" Varric asked, feigning as much innocence as he could manage. Cassandra appeared unmoved. "Come on now, Seeker, that's hurtful. I'm Mr. Respectful--I mean, sure, it's a fairly recent nickname but I'd like to think I've earned it."

As much as he didn't want Anders in the Seeker's sights, he also wasn't too fond of putting himself dead-center in them, either. Varric offered up what might've qualified as an apologetic smile and then set one hand over his heart.

"Bu--you're right, I am in the Inquisition now," Varric added quickly. "I'll try to keep it friendly, you know, for the children."

Anders works very hard to not cradle the book to his chest once it's free. The papers haven't spilled, the Seeker seems to still think the book is just a book despite Varric suddenly yelling and swearing, and his heart rate can slow a little. Not only that, Cassandra's turned on Varric.

He's tempted to bolt.

It's not really fair to Varric if he does, if he takes advantage of the confusing, furious woman's distraction to leave, but Varric knows how to work his way out of tough spots. Anders' game face leaves a great deal to be desired.

"Right. Now that we're all being respectful, I've work to do." That's fair enough. It may mute her fury at Varric because there's an audience, and he's got an out. There's an apology in his eyes to Varric for just a moment before Anders is turning and walking away purposefully, intent on pretending he doesn't hear any objections no matter what.

The mage awkwardly excuses himself, to Cassandra's great relief. If he leaves, he cannot tell Varric that they had been arguing about the book. He cannot tell him that she had become - upset. About Swords and Shields. Still, she shoots him a glare as he edges away. Just for good measure.

"See that you do," she tells Varric forbiddingly, and frowns. "If there is anyone in the Inquisition calling you Mr. Respectful, I should like to know their names. They should know how inaccurate their assessment of you has been."

It took every ounce of Varric's focus to keep from shooting Anders a desperate, urgent look. Varric had assumed the mage would just bolt, that made sense, so much sense, but Anders hesitated for some reason. Apparently he'd chosen that very moment to develop some strange variety of masochistic-camaraderie and had decided not to let Varric occupy all of Cassandra's attention. Varric was sure he'd appreciate it, later, probably, but he didn't right then.

At the moment, he was mostly just focused on getting Anders as far away from Cassandra as possible.

When Anders left, Cassandra turned to glare at his rapid retreat and, fortunately, they both missed the fact that the other sagged in relief. When she rounded on him again, Varric plastered a polite smile across his face (he almost managed to look contrite).

"You wound me, Seeker," Varric announced, almost theatrically, and pressed a hand over his heart. "Sure I may be a liar and a no-good, immoral, scheming dwarven merchant, but I'm often very respectful. That is...for a given value of respect."

He paused and winced a bit.

"I say please and thank you regularly?"

Cassandra shakes her head in disgust. Varric. All these months, and she still never knows quite how to deal with him. "Your own personal definition, one assumes," she sneers at him. "At least the rest of what you say is true."

But they're not talking about the book now, and the mage is gone, and for that, she counts herself lucky. She relaxes minutely, letting herself fall into what has become a sort of reflexive, ongoing argument with Varric; something familiar, with no real heat behind it. "So does any well-trained child," she points out. "True respect demands more."

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