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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"Because I calculated for everything, saw everything coming." His voice was dry as he shook his head. "You and a great many others give me credit for a gift of foresight I don't have."

The plan hadn't involved getting close enough to anyone for them to face any trouble or suspicion. But he and Justice had miscalculated exactly how lonely he'd been and how bad he was at keeping a distance. It's too human for one to grasp, and a sign that the other is still weaker than he'd like.

"I thought I knew what the general outcome would be." Anders shakes his head, looking at the camp that's taking shape around him. "I was wrong on nearly every count."

"One hardly needs foresight to know what would come when you were discovered, amidst mages who would swear for you. Who cared about you. The rest might be more fortunate for that, but you of all people should have known how harshly they would look upon them."

She takes a breath, lowering the cheese and looking aside, shaking her head.

"I didn't come here to argue this with you, if you can believe it," she utters drly. "I'm certain you've heard enough from everyone else," she manages at last. "And there's nothing to be done now. The Wardens have spoken, and whoever was seen associating with you will likely have to ride out the storm."

They weren't supposed to care, but saying that when she didn't want to argue would push yet another person away and despite how he hadn't been supposed to care either, he does. The topic thankfully isn't of enough interest to Justice and Anders exhales and takes another bite of his fruit.

"There's a great deal to be done. Just nothing about that, for now. " He's alive. Somehow, again. Anders doesn't think he dares to count how many times he should have died and didn't. For all that life had a habit of going horribly wrong, it still kept going. And maybe, with the time given him, he can mend what wounds he's caused. He's a healer. Ostensibly.

"Would you like a tour of the camp? We've tents, tent stakes , and the ever- exciting drainage ditches taking shape for rain and snowmelt. Zevran's building a shaving station as well because grizzled Wardens break his heart." His voice is a little lighter and he's trying very hard to sound like everything's fine. There's strain anyway; his ability to bluff is lacking.

"Is he now?"

She allows herself a very small, very quiet smile at that. "I understand he has a history for the Wardens. I wouldn't doubt that's true."

But her eyes travel over what is actually here readily enough. It's heartbreaking to see the Wardens all but cast out for this, only kept close out of some need to know that they won't just turn Anders loose the second they're out of sight. That's how it feels, at least. The truth is for those of higher rank, certainly.

He doesn't know how to respond to that, or her look around the place. Maybe there's not something to say. Maybe it's time to leave her be.

Anders shrugs after a moment, trying to act far more unbothered than he really is. He's not sure he's successful, but he's also not really sure it matters. "There are a number of people who have traveled with Jonas here. History is one way of saying it."

Being a living part of history is... not something to be glad about, he's fairly certain. Better to be alive than dead, certainly. But hearing people talk of your actions, of the actions of your friends, judging as if they'd been there, isn't pleasant in any definition of the word.

Jonas. He uses the man's name in too familiar a way to be coincidence, or she's the queen of Antiva. It seems he's enjoyed the company of a great many heroes in the years past, then. There's some irony there, surely.

"Ah, the illustrious Hero of Ferelden. He did mention him in particular. A very exciting tale it was." Her eyebrows lift, a thoughtful look replacing her amusement before too long. "But history will likely remember it as a footnote, if they care to at all. So many details become forgotten over time. Even now people begin to forget what the Wardens did for us all such a short span of years ago."

Anders snorts, a little bit of bitterness in his expression.

"Yes. They do. Vigilance and sacrifice is part of being a Warden, but people so quickly ignore what all you've done when it's more convenient to only see what happened after seven years of failing at peaceful solutions and the slaughter of friends. I'd be surprised if more than a dozen non-Wardens could tell you what I did at the end of the Fifth Blight. Or even the true end of it, the aftermath that only came past when the archdemon fell and Jonas' first group of companions moved on, save Oghren."

He should shut up. No one knows... because no one cares. Looking for anyone to give a damn about the whole picture of who he is rather than the simple, easy title of murderer is a waste of time and energy, but he's always had trouble shutting up. He'll be in the history books for the Chantry alone, not for being key in saving Vigil's Keep, not for helping take out the Mother while placating the Architect, not for anything he does here. He shouldn't care. He does anyway.

Moving Day

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