faderift | [Closed] This isn't even my final form

He's been tugged down, and Anders leans close to Zevran, seeking contact and the comfort it brings.

"I couldn't do nothing in Kirkwall, and staying away..." He sighs. "I could have stayed away. I wanted to see the future of my people too badly, wanted to be more involved. You don't have to say the things for me to know I made a poor choice by coming." But he couldn't really have remained out there. It wasn't just his desire to see how things could go, it had been Justice too.

"Maybe the Wardens will harbor me." Anders doesn't have a lot of faith there, though. "But the cost may be too high. It may be more politically expedient to be done with me. I don't know." And he's tired. He doesn't want to be done or dead, but working to avoid people constantly, his run-in with Leliana, his meeting with Cassandra, it's all exhausting. He couldn't keep going on like this. Especially if he wants to help his people.

"The Wardens don't much care about politics, Anders. They care about the blights and preparing for them. Ending them. Destroying Darkspawn. If Wardens cared about politics they'd be able to retain titles and hold land. As it is? They do not and that is not going to change anytime soon. All you must consider is if harvoring you would make their task difficult. My money? Is on no." The Wardens did what they must- they were the Grey Wardens, not the white, not the black, for a reason.

Whatever it took to see the Blights ended. Jonas had been better about that than Alistair.

He takes a breath. Zevran has something of a point, but at the same time, the Grey Wardens had betrayed him before. It had been more expedient to let their healer be harassed out even before he'd been a criminal. Now? Now he does have allies who are willing to back him up, but he isn't sure he wants to let them. Nate and Bethany and Kaisa have more to lose than they think.

Then again. The Wardens here don't currently have a spirit healer in their ranks. He could be very useful. And it can't hurt his Warden allies to talk alone. It's the acting if things go wrong that could hurt them.

"I always was good for sending into the dark to kill things that really wanted to kill me faster. They... They could find having me around good. Maybe." Hope is hard. Hope is extremely hard, but he's trying.

"Alistair will argue for your case, as will Bethany and your Nathaniel. I would recommend writing to Jonas but Maker only knows wherever he's gone off to." THe longer his friend is missing, the less hope he has of hearing of him again. It's too neat, too convenient, all the heroes of the past decade dead or missing. Their fellows survive, true, but...it is not the same to have to scrape together and hope for the best. To make those choices.

It wasn't fair to put those choices on their shoulders in the first place. Perhaps this is fate balancing the scales.

"I can speak to Leliana if need be. I do not relish the thought- she is much changed from the woman I knew a decade ago- but...if it would help."

That Alistair would comes as a small surprise. Alistair had been a Templar, after all. But on a little bit more thought, it makes sense - he's close to Zevran and Anders had been crucial in saving Zevran's life.

"I doubt even the Maker knows," he says quietly. He'd liked Jonas, and not just because of the kitten, but he doesn't know that he can summon up enough faith to believe the man is still alive.

Anders considers the offer of talking to Leliana before shaking his head. "I don't know the Leliana you knew, but she went to Kirkwall to try to protect the Grand Cleric. I can't say if that knowledge influenced Justice or not. I can say I don't see her wishing to help." Another shake of his head. "No. Rest and heal, please. And maybe, if things go poorly and Bethany or Alistair wind up in danger, find a way to talk them down. I've already got someone who will keep Nate from putting himself too much at risk."

His Nate, Zevran had called him. It's fitting, in a way. And it definitely raises the importance of Isabela cutting the man off if need be.

"Ah, no. Not to ask her to help- but to talk her down. She is...I do not know what she has made herself now. But perhaps I might hold her back from acting rashly should it come down to it." Being uncertain of someone he had known so solidly is strange- and yet it is how he must be around Leliana. There are shades of the girl he'd known, the girl that freed herself of an unfortunate influence, a girl of faith. Perhaps he ought to have checked in with her more.

Reminded her to laugh, to smile. To live for herself as much as she did her faith. But he had his Crows to fear and any overt connection might damn them...he had been a coward. Perhaps he would allow himself a little more cowardice before he spoke with her again.

Friendly, idle conversations? This he can do easily. But arguing faith- that gets ugly. That drags him to a place he would rather not be. But for Anders? he would. "Whatever you need."

He closes his eyes for a moment before opening them and looking back over at Zevran.

"I need to not drag others down with me this time. That's what I need. I need to not destroy what they hold dear should they try to sacrifice for me."

Except there's one thing that Zevran knows about and can help with that no one else can, and the next breath Anders takes is a little shaky. He could be about to face his greatest fear all over again, and he doesn't know how much of it he can take.

"But if... If they're not fast about it. If instead there's holding, but it's clear where it's headed..." It's a lot to ask. Even of an assassin, because the assassin has treated him like a friend. Anders' courage fails him. "I would give anything for company, if it could slip in."

He can't ask death of Zevran, not when the Elf has just come so close to it himself.

"A little late for that, I should think. This is why I try to avoid sentiment, it complicates things. Makes messes, borrows trouble, adds weight we do not need in our lives. Prompts fools to rush in where they could be killed, like...a Crow compound, facing down the left hand of the Divine when she is in a snit." It'd be far more than a snit and they both know it but-

Parallels. Zevran is allowed to draw them.

He hooks an arm around Anders' waist to pull him in, this foolish man that ran ahead where most would not, that sought out a Crow broken and brought him back to life- that unknotted the spell in his mind and let him be himself again. Debts that need paying. Sentiment that weights. Here he feels it keenly and here he can feel as much as hear the trembling in Anders' breath.

Can consider the question he is not asking in truth.

Answers both, as best he can with the brush of his lips to Anders' cheek. It is kind that he hesitates. Kind that he falters. Zevran...is not near as kind. The truth and world are hideous things. Better to look it in the eye and know what it is than to pretend it is something sweeter. "Company, of course. And a quick end should you need it. You wouldn't be the first lover I've put my blade to, but you would be the first done so out of mercy."

He bows his head, wishing it wasn't such a relief to know that he wouldn't be stuck in a cell for an unknown length of time, alone, all over again.

"Thank you." The answer is as comforting as the embrace and the light kiss, despite how needing a way out of that situation makes him feel like a coward.

"I've always sought sentiment," Anders says quietly, leaning his head against the Elf's shoulder. "It hurts. But sometimes, for a while, it's good. Life isn't as hard. It makes even fighting Crows twice for someone worth it. You have been a friend, Zevran, as well as lover. I... Thank you."

Being grateful, talking about things that are emotional, they're not things he's good with. Most of it he deflects. The chance that he's nearing the end of his time has him trying to say a little more, though.

Without missing a beat or saying a word, Zevran lifts his hand up to stroke Anders' hair. A weary man, a man that tries- probably not a good man. Definitely not the most reasonable with a spirit of Justice in attendance. But not the worst Zevran has known. Spend enough time around assassins and one's priorities for company and the bar they are held to drops considerably.

"Thank me by not giving into despair quite so easily, mm? I have been there, it is not a very fun place to stay." He still has days where he slips back to that quiet, numb room, him on the hook, blood in the air- fighting past it is harder on those days but, he manages.

"It isn't," he quietly echoes, relaxing into Zevran's gentle touch. "It's easy to fall into, unfortunately. But I'll try. Since you've asked."

"I'm not sure what I'll do with myself if they don't end things." There's just a trace of amusement in his voice. "I certainly won't be popular in a good way. We could take bets on who would be the most angry."

He has tried. If he's given more time, he won't simply give up and let it pass, but Maker, he'll probably be even more exhausted.

"Leliana. Fenris. Cassandra. Cullen. Any with family in Kirkwall. Most mages that do not already know the truth." He shrugs, there is nothing to be done of such things. There is only life and the living. If they do not end him and do not imprison him? Something might be done for it.

"I will always be available should you need company, my friend. You need only say the word."

"Fuck Cullen. He tried to kill every mage I've cared about. I'll enjoy his anger." He likely won't get to see it, but oh, it would be satisfying. "You were even there, when he tried to get Kinloch Hold wiped out."

The rest he won't enjoy. Not even Fenris. Sure, he didn't like the elf and there was nothing to do except blow up the Chantry, but he'd taken a home from the guy. ...Then again, when he runs into Fenris again he might not feel bad at all. It all depends, and Anders knows he's trying to build up some sort of protection for what's to come. Humor can be hidden behind, but for what's to come, anger will shield him best. Humor could show nerves. Anger will show them a wall.

But it's hard to get and stay angry when someone is toying with his hair and assuring him they'll be there for him. Anders sighs and shakes his head.

"Thank you. You are... You are the only one in Skyhold, except potentially for that Templar, who knows how much that means to me." There had been plenty who had laughed at his weakened state after. It's not hard to imagine that Rutherford had at least heard of the punishment.

"Where he was tortured for days on end listening to his friends and brothers and arms twisted about by desire demons, holding out with no food, no water, no company other than abominations that wished him and everything he was meant to protect destroyed? Yes, I saw him. Praying, insensible, unable to believe that aide had finally come due to demons having taunted him with such a thing over and over already." Even before the Crows took him, Zevran felt for the man. Now?

He knew the poison that false hope made. How it tainted every waking moment, every scrap of breath for something better that would never come. How it made even the truth of such a thing a bitter pill to swallow, something that cannot be trusted.

"I cannot possibly imagine why, after seeing that, after surviving that, he would wish for the safest course in the only way he had been taught how. And even then, he trusted Jonas. Trusted the rest of us to make certain this would end, trusted our judgement as to what would be done. He did not care for it but he made no attempt to cut down every mage for what had been done to him." Not many men can say that. "And he has attempted to put that behind him. Has, as best he can. How many people can you think of might say the same, mm?"

His eyes narrow. It isn't just Anders who dislikes Cullen, it's Justice too. There'd been so much wrong done in Kirkwall, and the man had fled to serve there.

"Trusted, you say, attempted to put that behind him, you say, but he went straight to Kirkwall to side with Meredith. It got as bad as it did because of her, him, and Elthina. Any one of them could have stopped what was happening, and not a one wanted to. And when the Chantry exploded, he did seek to cut down every mage he could."

He stands by what he said, and what his opinion of the man is. "I am far from the only mage to wind up in the dungeon of that tower, and many of them suffered for days on end, knowing that if they gave into temptation they'd not only be free of pain for good, but they'd have a chance to take out some of their jailers with them. Him included. No one deserves treatment like that, but he received what he'd given. I fail to see any signs of him growing since."

Granted, he's deliberately avoided the man since arriving, but Justice does not care for things like that. If Cullen had truly parted from his past life, it would be on the lips of many people. Anders has heard nothing.

"When you destroyed the Chantry." It was what it was, pretending it wasn't? Helps no one. Zevran doesn't move from where he's draped, doesn't tense, doesn't so much as bat an eye- but his voice shifts into something sharper, sweeter. Razor blades less submerged in honey, closer to the surface. "But by all means. Do not listen to me. What do I know of such things as torture and the recovery thereof, what having someone you trust and respect play with your mind for years and attempting to shake free of it might cost. I cannot imagine I know much at all."

Edited 2016-03-10 10:29 (UTC)

His jaw tightens. "Funny, I don't see you killing every Crow you encounter. You even took the ones we brought back in. Yes, when I blew up the Chantry. But you're not murdering people who have no chance of defending themselves from-- All right, yes. Yes, you're an accomplished killer, the other Crows, including those in Kirkwall, likely stood little chance. But they were coming after you! He didn't have to continue killing mages. He didn't have to seek out the Knight-Commander most clearly willing to allow it, and even encourage it. But he did."

And someone in authority had to have given Alrik permission to proceed, given him access to the means to do so. Considering Anders had been the target of making Karl Tranquil, it only makes sense that it would be a Templar from Kinloch Hold. It only makes sense that it had been Cullen.

"My... My network was slaughtered before I did anything. Men and women, not mages, who sought to help the mages within the Gallows. It's not something Meredith would have been involved in because a Knight-Commander couldn't be seen authorizing it. But a Knight-Captain could. And someone up at her level or his had to approve of the action. Someone up at her level or his had to authorize... had to authorize making Senior Enchanters Tranquil, because that's illegal even by the cruel laws of the Order."

They're in very personal territory. Anders' hatred of Cullen is tied to so much that's gone wrong for him, for everyone he's cared about.

"How has he sought any atonement? Or by putting it behind him do you mean he's simply ignored it and everyone else has too, because who cares about the crimes of a Templar against mages and the friends of mages?"

"You haven't seen me these past five years. You have not seen me for the past ten. Crows come, I kill them. Honestly at this point I should say most that would be sent after me or most masters I might put my mind to murdering would not stand a chance, but I may be overplaying my skill somewhat. Some were no older than Vita. Most weren't, in fat. They ran out of accomplished killers to send after me awhile ago." The blood on his hands is young. And he regrets none of it. He was trained to not feel such things, after all, and some lessons are well worth keeping even if the methods by which he learned were cruel.

"Mercy is learned, and it is not earned easily. I think, perhaps, you are granting a traumatized man with an overabundance of malice and skill in manipulation. Cullen knows war tactics, knows battle. What you are suggesting takes a mind suited to subtlety, stealth, and a petty vindictiveness I'd expect of most Orlesians before any Fereldan templar. Without proof he did such things? I cannot expect him to have been capable of them. Now, standing idly by and allowing them? That I can see. That is what they do and how such systems remain in place, the apathy of those caught up in them." Entirely innocent? Cullen was not. But mastermind? Hardly. The man couldn't hold himself together at the end of Kinloch hold. Coming out of it and being able to do such things? Did not fit. Cullen would kill a man simply, with his sword.

Sadism didn't become him.

"Making an effort to allow mages to govern themselves here seems to be a start. I do not pay much mind to things- it is not my concern, mages will do as they do, templars will do as they do, and the rest of us without magic or lyrium will endure the fallout and the shouting as we always have. Perhaps clean up after the fireballs and holy smites have passed." His hand combs through Anders' hair, like they were still discussing the weather and not all this ugliness. "Sometimes people end up in the worst place for them at the worst time for them. I should know, I take advantage of it often enough to make a living from it."

"You show a kindness to him he doesn't deserve." He's bitter, how he's bitter. "Apathy instead of actual cruelty? He went straight to Meredith. He chose that worst place, if that's what you'd call it. Whereas the mages in Kirkwall had no option in the matter. And there's been no fireballs or mage fallout until recently. Until recently, when we finally stepped out of the Circles instead of being properly, quietly slaughtered, so sorry."

"When, precisely, before the Chantry, have you--" Uldred. Anders breaks off with an angry noise, hands tightening on his own thighs. Conner too. And that's just public knowledge, so it's entirely possible Zevran has always dealt with fireballs and mages. Caught between Morrigan and Wynne could not have been a pleasant position either.

He takes a long, shaky breath, feeling the adrenaline of anger pounding in his veins. It's almost a wonder it's still him talking and not the third wheel in this conversation. Some of that he attributes to the fact that Zevran is actively touching him, keeping his anger from getting entirely out of control.

"All I have seen, from every Templar save two, is malice. One of those Templars is dead because he too sought to do something about Meredith and Kirkwall, and desperation lead him to the wrong group of allies. Malice is a part of their very order. It spurs on the cruelties they delighted in dealing daily to those they held captive, and it drives them onward to see us imprisoned under their authority again. They bide their time, but they're waiting and watching, and using the willfully deluded outliers like Vivienne to help their cause."

"Many would say I show the same to you." Many do, in fact. He has lost trust in this, lost what little ground he'd gained with Morrigan, what precious little right he had to comment upon Leliana's current state. The right to see Kieran, whom he cared for, whom he counted among his own family for his blood. He holds this not against Anders but- his perspective is one that is massively skewed. Then again that could be said of most on either side of this argument.

"If you think a solider of any sort has a choice where they are sent by their superiors, you are deeply mistaken. After what happened I cannot imagine they would wish to keep him in Fereldan. Kirkwall was somewhere new, somewhere he would not be haunted. An order is made and it is followed." Crows were not soliders- but that same obedience is expected. "With all due respect, my friend- you are more than a little biased based upon your experiences, and justly so."

That word is chosen deliberately, even as he tugs Anders closer still, nosing into his shoulder. How familiar he is with angry men, raging at the world. How familiar he is with soothing them lest he take the first blow. It'd be a bit more than a fist or a knife should it come to it- he has heard of Justice's fury. All the more reason to be kind, to be careful. "I will not pretend to understand the world as you see it, I am not a mage, I have not suffered as you have suffered, we are not speaking on the matter of an entire order. We are speaking of a single man that has deliberately divorced himself from said order. By all means, Fuck Cullen.

But do let me watch, it'd be glorious."

If there's one thing that could pull him away from his rage, it's having to face his own hypocrisy. How many are furious that anyone has sheltered him? That anyone can see beyond what he's done? And now he's furious that Zevran can see that for the man who tried to get so many of his people killed, when Zevran is also offering that to him. Anders dislikes the parallel. Loathes it. But he can't deny it. He's stiff as Zevran tugs him closer and holding him, hating that a comparison can be made between himself and Cullen, forced to hear it because Zevran has earned Anders' respect.

Not only that, but the word choice is cleverly done and Anders has no doubt it's a purposeful reminder. Anders is with someone he sorely does not want to hurt, which means he has to force down the anger, has to take a breath and close his eyes and stop thinking about how he'd far rather shove a brand into Cullen's forehead, regardless of uselessness, than think of any sort of intimacy with that man.

"I'd rather sleep with Wynne." There's a name they both know. He takes another breath, nails digging into his own thighs. Zevran is not the target of his anger, or shouldn't be. "Or Jonas." Not that Jonas had been unattractive, but he'd always been too focused on appearances with nobility for Anders' taste. It was understandable due to kingship, but it hadn't been that attractive.

There's a third deep breath before he leans into Zevran and some of the tension leaves his body. Anders' voice gets tired, sad. "None of the angry people would have cared if it had just been another Circle being annulled. Have you heard a single person who isn't a mage upset about the Circle in Rivain being slaughtered? Because I haven't. And yet they're furious that in a city they've never seen, one they never cared about before 9:37, some people died who weren't mages when it was supposed to only be mages."

Little by little, it seems to ease. No fist for him this day. Well done, Zevran, hurrah. And perhaps he might take it as a victory and continue along. Leave it at that, comb his fingers through Anders' hair, call it good. It was unfortunate, the timing, the placement, out of something Zevran would expect from a horribly overwrought play.

Or one of Varric's books.

But the matter was of Cullen, they had discussed Cullen, they had set it to rest. Of course it cannot be so simple. Men of vision, they truly would be the death of Zevran one day. He's quiet for a long moment, tipping his face to press a soft kiss to whatever skin he can reach, feeling far too soft and far too kind for this conversation. The danger has passed, let it be past. And then he opens his mouth. Like he always does. "Most humans do not care when an alienage is purged. Most of those on the surface do not care of the decline of the dwarven peoples, the endless fighting of the legion of the dead. Most southerners care not for the skirmishes of Imperium and Qunari. It is almost as if people are inherently selfish and when the social moors means of apathy or oppression have been in place for centuries thinking around it is difficult if not entirely unthinkable. I could be reaching, after all, but that might be it."

That doesn't make it good, that doesn't make it bad. That does not make it worthy of commendation or condemnation, it simply makes it...what it is. Something with which they must live.

He's relaxed, he's let his guard down, which means he's not prepared for those words to reach the other listener in the room or for that listener to react faster than Anders can. The man against Zevran stiffens again, but this time the voice that replies is hollow as he straightens and pulls away from the kiss Justice has no patience for.

"Which does not make it right. Those who do not care, should. Let the persecution be dragged out into the open, make them face it. Every purge of an alienage, every time a village is set aflame by a skirmish, let it be called out. If ignorance is allowed to continue the situations will only fester all the more." He turns electric blue eyes on Zevran, studying the elf calmly. "You will mention it here, but do you act? Or do you simply say it to speak? If you are aware and inactive, are you not then a part of the problem?"

The elf is a mess of contradictions and a disruptive presence. But he has been useful enough for all of that, and Justice bears him no more ill will than he does Sigrun.

"At what point will you find it enough to make a stand, or will you not?"

Oh wonderful, the spirit speaks. Truly this should be more frightening than it is, he should be slow, he should be careful, he should mind more-

But Zevran is tired of so many things. Of the arguing, of the mages and their magic, of the templars and their self righteousness, of the demons falling from the sky, the world ending yet again, and being half blind. He honestly cannot find a single fuck to spare for this spirit's feelings.

That is dangerous.

Opening his mouth and drawling out in a sweetly scathing voice? All the more dangerous. "Oh, I apologize, apparently spending the past decade murdering my fellows and dismantling the largest guild of assassins is not acting. That I have managed to upset the organization to the extent that they would take me, torture me with blood magic that you yourself had a hand in mending rather than killing me outright is nothing. I may have chosen to do so without so grand a gesture as blowing up a chantry and starting an outright war- but please. Tell me how I have made no stand. Do continue. Obviously you know better than I."

He is not used to being mocked. Fear, anger, those are the typical reactions. His eyes narrow... but he cannot actually argue the assassin's words. The Crows had been corrupt and brutal, victimizing many for coin and tearing apart countless lives. Zevran has indeed done remarkable damage against them. Justice is left with no answer. Certainly there is always more that can be done, more groups that can be assisted, but thus far he has only truly assisted with one group as well. He cannot judge a mortal for not accomplishing something he has yet to do.

For a long moment, all the spirit can do is stare at the elf coldly. There is nothing to say to that, however. He has no reason to stay in control.

Anders blinks, feeling Justice's aggravation and giving Zevran a confused look. He'd been leaning against Zevran. Now he's not. If there's a gap in his memory, though, it's small, because otherwise they haven't changed position. Plus Zevran isn't injured. He blinks again before shrugging.

"We're not all inherently selfish, though it's tempting to be so. People simply need awareness, sometimes, instead of the opportunity to ignore what they feel may not concern them."

When in doubt, go with what he last heard.

[Closed] This isn't even my final form

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