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

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[Closed] This isn't even my final form

WHO: Anders and close CR
WHAT: Detlef makes his last appearance for some goodbyes in case, Anders gives some warnings, and basically he tries to prepare.
WHEN: Around this time, a little backdated for the ride, but generally 24th-ish
WHERE: Ride back from EDL and in Skyhold
NOTES: Anders.

[ooc: This is various starters for Detlef's end and Anders warning some friends and admitting things to another. If you'd like a starter, ping me at Nadat on plurk and I'll put one together!]

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"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.

"Your blue friend is an ass." Zevran mutters, tugging Anders back against his side. "To you more than anyone else."

Losing time- that was worrying enough. And terribly unfair- that Justice could see and know but Anders could not? It might bolster an argument against Anders' compliance with the destruction of the chantry- especially if he did not have a choice. But- thoughts for another time. For now he simply tucked the mage close to hold him. "Yes, we are. Those that look past that are quite good and noble. The rest of us are content to make our way as best we can."

Shit. That answers the question Anders hadn't wanted to ask, then. Anders closes his eyes as he lets Zevran tug him back.

"I wouldn't go so far as claim he's been the worst to me," he says lightly. How can he blame someone for being annoyed for his sake, even if they're wrong? Ella comes to mind and his lids tighten all the more for a moment before he manages to open them again. And then when Corypheus controlled them... No. Anders is quite certain there are greater victims here.

"And the world could use more of the good noble ones. ...The actually good, noble ones." Once he'd seen himself as one, when he headed to Kirkwall and started trying to help. What had come after the first year or two had made it clear he'd been lying to himself. And everyone else. At least he's consistent.

"We are going to have to agree to disagree on that." Anyone or anything that removed a person's autonomy from them- that was the worst thing that could be done. Through choice or circumstance, it did not matter. But it also does not bear discussing; they've had their argument, they've had their discussion. There is some time yet before Fenris is likely to wander back this way. He tucks Anders close, hands combing through his hair to soothe him.

"It could. Whether or not it will have them? Is another thing entirely."

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[Closed] This isn't even my final form

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