faderift | Moving Day

WHO: All the Wardens and whatever onlookers/helpers they may find.
WHAT: Moving Day
WHEN: Current-ish
WHERE: Skyhold and just outside Skyhold
NOTES: The Wardens are grounded. They have been told to camp outside Skyhold. So it's moving day.

It is a relatively flat and pretty utterly frozen piece of land outside Skyhold that the Wardens have found. Since there are only a couple dozen of them, they don't need a large space, at least. There's going to be a premium on slightly more elevated spots, so it's first come first serve. Some Wardens arrive with the sun and lay claim with canvas, stakes, ropes, and poles stacked up while they go back for heavier things. Digging into the frozen ground with the stakes is rough, especially for those who brought wooden stakes instead of iron. Some will be forced to wait until the sun softens things a bit. Some are chasing away the feeling of eviction by making themselves at home, starting fires in pits, or making light of their work through periodic bouts of horseplay. For example, one large longbowman with a wounded right arm, fed up with teasing for his inability to do heavy lifting, carries with his left arm a blond mage who hits him repeatedly with a pillow. Unperturbed, he continues on.

But when the tents are pitched and the sun is down, the cozy camp is a little less strange. People will gather around fires for warmth and companionship, knowing that after one sleep, this will start to feel like home.

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He exhales in something of a laugh. "I'm fairly certain I'm exactly like the one version of me there is."

He steps over to help with the finishing of the second knot before shaking his head. "Or two. Seeing as the other is out and known as well." If he'd had a choice, the whole 'abomination' part would have stayed quiet. But it is perhaps better this way, that everything's known and nothing else is hidden.

"It's not really glamorous or mysterious, I'm sorry. I'm a mage who saw too much death in Kirkwall and saw only one way to give other mages a fighting chance. If it had just been mages that died, as the Grand Cleric and Knight-Commander intended, then no one would care. But it wasn't. Innocent non-mages died instead of simply innocent mages, and while it should have been the case that none died, there was no way to make that happen. If there had been, someone would have suggested it by now."

But no one has mentioned an alternative. That's telling, to him.

Felix's jaw tightened a bit as he heard all of that. "I don't blame you for what you did," he points out after a moment. "It'd be real rich a Tevinter judging a Southern mage for his actions. At least you had noble reasons. It's better than those who might sacrifice innocent lives for their own political or personal gain."

A pause, as he finished tightening the ropes. "You have to deal with how you feel about the lives you took. I'm not sure it's my place to comment on it." Then, after a moment, "I meant only that some here seem to think you a hero, and some seem to think you a monster. It has to be exhausting." That last part is said with a certain level of sympathy.

He looks over, a little surprised. "You've a poor opinion of your own country, then? It has its flaws, certainly, but it gave you freedom. Unless you're saying that the price of freedom was that sacrifice."

Which would imply continuous sacrifice to maintain that freedom, which is beyond unacceptable. Both Justice and Anders can agree on that point. But accurate info on Tevinter that isn't filtered through a Chantry lens is hard to come by.

Anders steps over to the third rope and begins work on that before speaking again. "And the other... It is. I've..." He shakes his head and exhales. "I've worked so hard to be seen as a person, for mages to be seen as people, and I'm not. I am the murderer or the liberator, the ender of Circles or the warmonger. But if that's the worst that happens, can I truly complain?" He's alive. Tired, but alive.

"I've an excellent opinion of my country, it's my countrymen that are the issue. Tevinter can and should be a beacon of culture and grace, and instead we squabble and let the worst of us dominate the political landscape," he says all of this with an underlining care and passion but tries not to let that point of view completely derail the conversation.

He considers Anders for a moment. "For now, I'll strive to see you as a person, then. And perhaps a fellow Warden, since we're both here in this camp."

"It can be done better. If the Circles stay gone, we can move forward and show how it can be. We can do it right. Make a future, demonstrate that with freedom can be a better life for all rather than those that benefit from... Mm." He's getting worked up, he realizes, and looks a little sheepish. "Sorry. It's a topic dear to me. I could easily talk someone's ear off."

And has. Often. He's starting to get used to rolled eyes, even if he doesn't appreciate them. What he does appreciate? Felix's words. The man gets a nod of thanks.

"I appreciate that. And welcome to the Wardens, too. I hear you've only joined recently, and you did it without the standing around in smallclothes bit waiting," he darts a glance around to make sure no one's within hearing range, "to see if you're going to die like another recruit did or if you make it. I might be a little jealous. That was cold."

"The only one who was dying was me," he said thoughtfully. "I suppose that was a little more accepting. Otherwise, you'd just always have to be the one to go first."

He really doesn't want to dwell on that so much though so instead he focuses on the first part. "There is nothing wrong with talking." In fact, Felix never rolled his eyes, and instead watched carefully. "I wish I was more knowledgeable on the plight of Southern mages. I went to the University of Orlais and there the topic was strongly avoided."

"I wasn't the one who died. I... Mm." He paused, looking back toward the camp, as his voice turned regretful. "I don't remember her name. I survived, as did Oghren, and the other recruit passed away. I don't know that he'd remember her name either." If he was still alive. That's the issue with Wardens.

Anders exhaled. "The better topic is what happens to the mages in the south. I'd be glad to give you answers to any questions you have. They don't like to talk about us much; they'd much rather we died quietly."

Felix's frown deepens at that. "I'm afraid I wouldn't know where to start... I've realized it really must be as bad as they say. I don't think Fiona would have been as willing to accept my father's offer otherwise."

"As bad, sometimes worse. Especially if you lean your ear anywhere near where Vivienne is spouting her delusions." He rather needs to speak with Fiona sometime. He's nervous about it.

"And it's balanced on the edge of a knife. It could slip right back to where it was if we're not vigilant. After all, who likes to see a group they look down on suddenly have the same rights as them?" There's bitterness coloring his voice.

"I'd imagine it'd be a bit like that for Tevinter if we ever abolished slavery."

"It could well be." A beat. "But I doubt Tevinter is about to do that, and we've this issue in our present, how to prevent further cruelty and abuse despite how some wish a return to it."

Moving Day

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