faderift | [Open] Tell me would you kill to save a life?

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[Open] Tell me would you kill to save a life?

WHO: Anders and, at last, fully open!
WHAT: Anders is back in Skyhold after the revelation and Warden mission
WHEN: Around mid-Drakonis
WHERE: around Skyhold
NOTES: It's Anders. Beyond that, if someone does swing for him, he will be defending himself or we can have a handy-dandy Warden NPC Joeth Smithicus step in, up to you!

1. The Healing Tents

He's more quiet than he was before as he works, trying to stay out of the way while still being available. The atmosphere isn't a pleasant one, and he knows there's a lot of anger, but how is he going to help out if he's sitting in the Warden camp all the time? Even more, how is he going to keep Justice in check if their hands are figuratively tied?

The fact of the matter is that staying somewhere safe where people don't loathe him isn't an option so he's here. He only wishes it wasn't putting a weight on the shoulders of someone he's directly hurt.

Whenever someone comes in he looks over, focusing on the fact that it's all right however many times he hears no as the answer to his question - "Can I help you?"

2. Wardentown

It's not the most glamorous setting, but the life of a Grey Warden rarely is. There had been nights at Vigil's Keep... but those are long gone, and now it's tents and fire pit and keeping snow from piling up.

a) Magic-

Anders is currently kneeling near the tent that he shares with Nate, working on creating a pair of small walls of earth - one around the tent, and another small, circular one nearby. Earth isn't something he struggles with, but keeping them level and not causing any extra dips in the surrounding ground is a challenge. His lips are pressed together as he works on precision, and an approach gets a sharp glance and no words, but he's not annoyed someone's come over. A moment later he'll raise an eyebrow, but he's not starting this conversation.

b) Kitten

No matter how many times he has to keep drying her off and warming her up, Hero of Purrelden doesn't want to stay in his lap today. She's insisting on pouncing on snowbanks, batting at ice, and attempting to climb tents. The latter she's pulled away from each time while protesting loudly, but there's a little smile on his face as she misbehaves. It's nice to have a cat again, no matter how much more difficult than Ser Pounce-a-lot she is.

"Still better than a mabari," he'll say to anyone who comes close.

c) Foraging

He's not alone, which sometimes puts him on edge, and sometimes makes him feel a little safer. All the same, Anders is in the area outside the Warden camp with another Warden, looking to see what foodstuffs can be found to add to the pot. They're not in danger of going hungry but it's best to be prepared and know what's growing out here. There's no telling how long the Wardens will be near Skyhold, after all.

There's also no telling who he'll run across out here, and he's more on edge and defensive due to the fact that he doesn't know how someone might react if they come across him when not anticipating that he might be around.

"Watch the snow back that way," is what he says, though, tilting his head in the direction he's come. "There's some hiding a nasty drop. I've marked it with stones." Let them react to that how they will.

3. Wildcard me!

[[ooc: Come at me bros! Skyhold, Warden camp, whatever. If you've got a question about a scenario, feel free to private plurk me @ Nadat or PM this journal.]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's not hard to guess what happened, really. He'd worried, keeping it to himself, until he sees her and then he knows and it... stings, a little, when he doesn't even have a right to be stung by it. He's not seeing her. He's not even flirting with her. He'd screwed everything up by lying and getting carried away, and so he takes a breath and reminds himself that what little thing they'd had is over because he'd wronged her, hurt her. It doesn't help much, but at least there's a question to focus on answering.

"We're a little low on... on two things." Definitely not helping much. His fault. Out of his reach, his own damn fault. "Rashvine and felandris. I know there's some of the former growing in the gardens, but I'm not sure on the latter. We could... I could... Someone could walk there."

Maybe one day she'll want to walk with him again, but his bet is against it. And even if he's to be wrong, it's likely months and months away from now.

She clears her throat against that strange, sleep warm thickness, the warm burr that came from a late night either from drink or...what had happened. That she is still trying to not think on herself to the point she is willing if not entirely pleased by the idea of conversing more with Anders. Civilly. If she stews in silence she will stew on what she would rather not think about and-

It is a circular mental argument she shuts down as she unpins her hair to rebraid it, loose and simple over one shoulder. The curls from the night before have softened, framing her face in wisps as she looks over their stores. "Sina has been tending to a cutting for two months but it has not quite yet matured. We can make do with the dried variant we have in abundance- it'll need to soak for an hour to reconstitute before we can grind it or brew it properly."

She's beautiful.

She is, and he has to jerk his gaze away as she takes her hair down and rearranges it. It's better this way, though. He hurts everyone around him. At least he's hurt her now and can't hurt her further. Maybe she smiled at the other person the way she'd smiled at him during their one dance, and she's at least healing.

"Right," is all he says for now, heading to where they have the dried stuff and finding the appropriate jar. After a beat he glances back over at he as he pulls the dried felandris off the shelf. "So the... Did you see Kalli's performance?"

Maybe not the safest topic, but it's one he deeply wishes to hear news on, and it won't touch on who Adelaide spent the night with. Or it shouldn't. Theoretically.

"I think it goes without saying that I do not approve of your association with her." She cannot precisely police who speaks to whom- but Anders should not be exposed to other spirit healers. Not with what he's done, what he is. She has told Kallian much the same- she does not approve but she will not actively prevent it. The girl is welcome to make her own mistakes.

So long as they do not endanger herself or others or start another war; she will leave it be.

She freezes between one moment and the next while pinning her renewed braid into place around her head, blinking at a bruise she hadn't noticed on her wrist. Teeth. She flushes crimson at the memory and drops her hand, finishing the twist without much thought. "But yes, I did. And it was lovely."

"And yet you say it anyway." Her statement makes it easy for him to come back to himself, to put his barrier in place enough that he's immune enough to the blush on her cheeks as he sets the jar down near her. "It should go without saying that I don't care what you think of my associations. Particularly when it comes to her."

The last thing he's doing is avoiding the one person he's only helped and never hurt, the one who looks up to him as a father-figure, one of few he desperately hopes he never disappoints. He's still a person, and he will hold on to those who see him as such.

Anders' voice is far less open as he turns to fill one of their basins. He'd forgotten himself for a moment there and been hopeful when talking about Kalli. Another mistake.

"Was the reception of her song positive? Did she look happy?"

"Not blowing up a chantry also seemed like something that ought to go without saying, and yet here we are." Whether that was Anders or Justice- it seemed like the absolute black and white mentality of a spirit applied to the nuance of this side of the veil. Meaning as nuanced and 'just' as a hammer's blow. It also smacked of desperation and she knew enough to know she had no true understanding of the situation. "So I say it. I do not approve. She looks up to you, and you are what you are, you have done what you have done. How much would it take for her to assume it right to follow in your footsteps?"

Whether or not that was his intention at the time, whether or not he even considered such a thing when he took to Kallian- it is something he ought to have in mind. They lead by example whether they wish it or not. Adelaide? Bore that weight every day. Whether or not Anders thought of it or cared? She can't say.

"As positive as it would be for an elf. It'd have been more honest were she to sing behind a screen, I do not know if they were applauding for the song or applauding due to surprise that she was capable of performing so prettily." Bitter? No. A touch. A fair measure.

"Not standing by while a Circle is annulled seems like something obvious, and yet every Rivani mage in the Circle is dead," he retorts. "She looks up to who I am, not what I am, and I am endeavoring to make very clear that my footsteps were not right. I did so even before turning myself in, thank you."

Before Kallian, he hadn't really cared about an example. No one was looking up to him. No one cared. It hadn't mattered. She'd forced him to realize that people still watch him, can see him, and now he's being seen by everyone. It's intimidating. Terrifying. As much as it's absolutely frustrating that Kalli's special moment might have been weakened by people judging her by heritage. Anders glares into the basin he's filling.

"May they never hear something half as beautiful again." He didn't get to be there for her, and assholes had cheapened her performance. "And may they twist their ankles on the way home and not have a healer around."

The last water pump is a little harder than he means it to be, spritzing him with ice-cold water on an already cold day, and he glares at that too as if it's at fault. If the Inquisition didn't need the nobles, and the world the Inquisition, his wishes would be far less charitable.

That was not an argument she had room to speak on- it happened. The variables were many- whether or not he had the right of it, whether or not anyone had the right of it? Was irrelevant. The specific question here was Kallian. "...Who you are is an unknown."

He'd lied. About his name, about what he was before that- how much else of him had been false for the sake of his own safety? "And on that I cannot comment, nor can I speak to her taste in company. But know that if I hear a whisper, a murmur that you are guiding her intentionally or not down the path you walked? There will be a reckoning."

She cannot render him tranquil, for he is possessed. She cannot kill him, for she finds violence distasteful. But something will be done in turn. That went without saying.

By all means, though, back to bitching about Orlesian nobles. That was the rare common ground they had left. "She might have found a patron- or may yet earn one when word comes about. Though that will hold it's own dangers."

That hurt.

But how could he expect her to understand anything of what he'd been through, or who he was, or how simply spending time with her had helped him regather pieces of it? The most idiotic thing he could do right now was to give her more ways to hurt him, or an idea that she still could, and so all he does in response to the unknown comment is place the basin down and start placing dried herbs in it.

"Yes. You against the unknown. I'm terrified." ...Okay, so he's still stupid. Not even the sarcasm is protection, likely. Unless she really hasn't picked up anything about him.

"And a patron... As long as it's not as Vivienne hopes. Some... Some house," and the word drips with scorn, "to take her in as a maid. The moment they discovered what she is she'd be gone. There'd be no protecting her against them and the anger they'll lash out with. At least a patron of a bard only gives coin and has some appearances. She doesn't have to move out and go live with someone who feels like they own her."

"You. Lied. How am I to trust anything of what you said? How am I to believe anything of Detlef, or even your reasons for continuing our association. Was it kinship- or a desire to keep track of the inner workings of the Mage Council?" That- that black, bitter thought she could not shake, that barb deep under her skin, and as much as she would rather go back to ignoring him the spark has been lit. The force with which she brings down the knife on the first set of herbs for poultices is excessive, but it does not register. He hurt her.

She let him hurt her. Let him close enough to plant the blade in her back and even Dorian's voice chiding her for it will not remove the guilt she has for being so foolish as to extend that trust again so soon after the Spire.

Lesson learned. "If you think singing sweetly and appearing prettily in public is all that is expected of an Orlesian bard you are either ignorant or horribly naive."

Even she knows what bards are, what they are for.

So stupid. And he pays in pain, as he always does. He may never learn, it seems. This is what comes of any hope, of any trying, pain and more pain, and as much as Anders doesn't want Justice to be right, maybe this is what comes of getting close.

"If that's what you think then you're a fool reaching for anything. Name one time I asked for details on what the Mage Council was doing, one single time I asked for anything about it except the very night I arrived. My name alone was the lie but if you're desperate enough to make up such things, then you'll not believe that. And I'll not waste my breath trying to convince you further."

He had used her... but for Justice. For trying to heal the spirit. The truth of that isn't what hurts, though. It's that she doubts anything he'd truly felt, doubts the reality of the small, fragile, entirely shattered thing they'd shared. He'd wanted to still treasure that, but this shakes his ability to do so.

"And I'm so sorry, they skipped the class on what's expected of an Orlesian bard on my Anders farm, and in the Ferelden Circle. Please continue to insult me for not knowing every aspect of your culture."

It hurts. It hurts and it cuts at them both and while Compassion has focused to a narrowed dart to concern themselves over the physical this is an ache that transcends guilt and frustration to settle in her bones. In whatever scraps of a heart he might have left. "I am Orlesian and of noble blood. The only reason most had for associating with me outside of our studies was what they could try to get from me. What use I might have to them in the game."

Which had been precious little- but the words hurt. Saying them hurts and Compassion roils on the other side of the veil, distressed. "It is not too much to assume the pattern may yet hold true here."

Even if he was not Orlesian. Even if he is as he said he might be- how can she trust that?

"You know the only things worth knowing. Everything, everyone is a tool for a dual purpose, the sweeter the appearance? The more venomous the intent." Whether it is frustration or self disgust that twists her words- she can't say. Perhaps both. "Bards are spies. Assassins. Even in the Spire we knew this and I will be damned before she takes that life. It will destroy her"

It's all been use, he wants to point out. Every mage has been used since the first one was locked in a Circle. It only ends when no one can hold what they are over their heads. When freedom is a reality. But he's hurt and angry and doesn't care to share any more of his feelings or thoughts on mages in general with her as he doesn't want to know how they'll get twisted around.

It makes him fear the fact that they've found something they agree on. Kalli cannot take that life. He will not let her be used to betray and steal and lie and kill, no matter the hypocrisy of the thoughts.

"It's not her dream. It was her mothers." His voice is ice. "It will not be too difficult to dissuade her if she can find a dream of her own." And if she can be kept as far from Vivienne as possible, but considering Adelaide's feelings on him and Kalli, he's not about to say as much.

"The last thing I want is to see her hurt." The look in Anders' eyes challenges Adelaide to even try insinuating that's a lie. "I'll not let her suffer that fate."

"Her mother painted a kinder picture than exists." But that is what one does for children. Hope for a better future, make the world seem less cold, less cruel. Well- that is what parents do when they are not Orlesian. The rules, for them, are different. "Were she more comfortable with her magic, with being known as a mage, I would recommend that. But she is not. The moment Vivienne learns what she is..."

Adelaide has no way of knowing what might come of that. One day it will slip. One day. Fate is not kind enough to leave Kalli this shield forever.

"For her I have done all I can. A few letters dissuading interest from some of the more unsavory houses, sent before the soiree." Her connections are not what they could be, given her family name, but they are growing. For a long moment she stares at the herbs diced fine under her knife before looking back up to Anders, dead in the eye for the first time since she sent him from her tent. They cannot work like this. She cannot work like this.

"...swear to me you will do nothing foolish to protect her. Such things must be handled delicately." If she can extract that then, perhaps...if she can trust that he means it. To her, for her- she can trust nothing. For the girl? That might have weight enough.

The moment Vivienne learns is the end of everything for Kalli unless there's distance by then, some reason for her not to take further interest in the girl. He needs to find out what can make that happen that won't harm Kalli.

He's pulled from wracking his brain for any ideas by her request, and Anders looks Adelaide right back in the eye.

"Because you'll believe me. You've already made it clear you doubt everything I've said and been." Mistrusting him on some things is one matter. Everything? A different matter entirely. Not only that... He exhales heavily, looking down. One last tiny opening. He might not be able to afford the risk, but he'll take it anyway. Foolish is practically his real name. "I can't even swear it. That I can stay calm and attempt to be tactical, yes. That Justice can? If he sees a young mage endangered? It's not a promise I know that I can keep. Promise me that if she's suddenly endangered you'll be able to give us something to do, some way to help, and yes. I'll swear it. Otherwise..."

Otherwise he's already said.

"Pain does not lie." It is the only honest thing about him, that ache, that anger threaded through it. "The idea of something happening to her guts you."

Easier to look at that than the cold, hard ache of what broke between them. She is not yet ready to forgive him his trespasses. "I am not asking for Justice's word on this, for he cannot and will not give it." How a spirit came to understand the nuances of semantics and twist them about in a way better suited to a man is disconcerting to say the least, but that is for another day. "I am asking for yours."

He could snap. He could lash out with a question of if she'd known that, why would she even say he should avoid Kalli, when she'd known what it would cost?

But he doesn't.

Instead his fists tighten as he still does not look at her, because he doesn't know if he wants to see belief or doubt in her eyes when he speaks. There's even still a complication, how is he to know what's foolish, but they can cross that bridge if something comes up. There are the crystals, after all.

"Then I give it. Take it or not." And any further doubts of his word will be on her, as she's asked for this.

"..." It's still there. That ache. In this they are in agreement, that something ought to be done to protect a fellow mage, a spirit healer of great potential, from the moves of the game. There should be relief, not pain.

Why?

Compassion offers little more than a sullen awareness like a broken bone slow to mend, radiating chill and heat in alternating waves somewhere in the vicinity of her chest. "And were I to ask you to swear to not lie to me again, by deception or omission?"

A tentative thing. The slimmest of olive branches- barely a branch at that. A twig.

He looks back at her now, really looks, past the anger that's been a poor shield, past the topic of Kallian, and at Adelaide. There is no risk so dangerous as hope, nothing that has betrayed him as bitterly, and yet how is he to take that as anything but a tiny reason to hope? If she's asking this of him she's offering to take his word. To actually give it one more chance.

Clearly he is the very definition of stupid, because he wants that fragile hope more than he wants to protect himself from being hurt again.

"I would swear it." His voice is quiet. Again it is hers to decide if she'll accept that or not. This time the stakes are even greater, though, because the truth holds so much that can be used against him.

"Then swear. On what you hold dear, swear you will not by deception or omission lie to me." Whether or not he keeps it, whether or not this fragile thread will be cut a second time-

She cannot offer this to one man that wronged her and not to another- no matter how distant the other's cruelty might have been. At least of the two Martel felt remorse. The situation with Anders is more complicated. Perhaps once they finally remove Justice will there be a clearer idea of what he had meant, what he had wished.

...What does he hold dear, anymore? His friendship with Nate, but that's nothing to swear by. Kallian, but you don't swear by a person. A few other relationships, but they're not... Ah.

"I swear by my hopes that mage freedom lingers and grows that I will not lie to you again by deception or omission." It's what he has left. Nearly all of it. If it isn't enough for her, then nothing will be.

That...

How much that was worth, she could not tell. But it had to matter for something. Swearing on a hope felt shallow, hope was uncertain and fragile. So too might be the oath sworn upon it. But for now, so they could work, so she could put some of this behind her- she nods.

"That will do."

He studies her for a moment after she nods and speaks before nodding as well. Whether it did or didn't do, he had no control over that. It's out of his hands and in hers.

Anders exhales and looks back to the herbs, closing the felandris now that enough is soaking and pulling out some of the fresh ones they'll need.

"Would you be willing to tell Kallian all of what's expected of bards? That alone may dissuade her from taking that path. If not, if you know of a book on the matter, I'll read it and speak with her. I'm, I'm clearly not informed enough, but I'll get there."

This should be safe enough, deferring to her on a topic they both agree on.

She's quiet for a moment, focusing on the grinding of herbs, the first of the day's fresh poultices and salves. Losing herself in the repetition helps empty her mind of frustration, of doubt, of guilt. He gave his word.

She will hold him to it. Nothing more can be done.

"If she will listen, I will tell her. It is a most unfortunate business. Worst comes to worst I'll have my family hire her as a bard for music alone. I am fairly certain I've my brother's regard enough to ensure that she is taken care of, much that I would rather she do more than make a songbird of herself." Someone with so rare a gift shouldn't squander it- but it is not her life. Not her choice.

He closes his eyes at her words, bending his head a little. Already his word is put to the test - no lies by omission. If he doesn't speak now that the topic's come up, then he's leaving it out.

"Gregoire." Anders exhales and shakes his head. "You do have regard enough. I'm certain of it. But if you don't..."

Maker. They'd just stopped arguing, too.

"I'd no intentions of using it, but he sent a cast of your family crest to me with the offer of doing a favor." Detlef had made her happy, Gregoire had said, and then Anders had torn that all away. "Whatever he could. I'll bring it tomorrow."

It's not fair of him to keep it, really.

Edited 2016-03-20 09:56 (UTC)

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