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

"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)

"...how do you-" She'd named Detlef in her letters. Spoke of him fondly. Gregoire in all his infinite kindness and poetic generosity had written he might send something of appreciation to the man that made her life brighter.

Apparently it hadn't been in jest.

"...of course he did." She stares at her hands rather than at Anders. A crest. A cast of a crest. Offering a favor so blatantly- even she knows the risks in that, to be seen offering such kindness to anyone without limit- how it would ruin the family for him to be seen with it now.

"Where is it?" Anders cannot keep this thing. He cannot.

"In my tent in the Warden encampment. I've kept it in my pack." At least she doesn't sound angry. Then again, she seems to run cold when trying to defend herself. Anders is the one who runs hot when he feels vulnerable.

"If you'd like to walk down with me at the end of our shift I can give it to you then, or it can wait until tomorrow morning. I leave the choice up to you." The crest had been given to him, but it was due to deceit. Keeping it, gaining from her brother... he couldn't do that.

"Has anyone else seen it?" Does anyone else know? It is bad enough that her own name is marred by their association- to drag her family through this as well however well meaning Gregoire might have meant the gift?

Her mother would never forgive her.

She'd never forgive herself if this fell back upon them.

"Yes that- I will walk with you to fetch it." She can excuse it as handing him back to the wardens or make an excuse to check in with Sabriel or- any number of things. Anything but what it actually is.

There's an urgency to her response that has him deliberately not looking over at her to prevent his annoyance from showing. He's offered the crest up, attempted to make this easy, and she's rushing because Maker forbid anyone think someone in her family had responded kindly to something he'd done. Maker forbid someone think not everything he's done has been murder.

"No one." He begins slicing herbs with possibly a little more force than needed. At least it's being made very clear where he stands with her, so there's no room for anything as idiotic as false hopes of repairs or whatnot. Speaking of stupid, he's even half-tempted to ask her why she doesn't just run down to the camp right now if she's so worried that anyone think there'd been something there. At least he can resist saying that.

Nate had been wrong. Anders isn't a person in peoples' eyes now despite how he finally has legal rights. He's just changed into another Thing for them to fear. He needs to stop being so stupid as to hope for anything.

Thank the Maker for small mercies. The anxious tension in her goes loose in an instant. This is on her shoulders and hers alone after all. Though.

Now she will have to write Gregoire and-

No, someone might intercept the letter. Explain in code? What code- they didn't have one worth working through- writer he might be but that? was not ow he worked. He couldn't read her shorthand, no one could. Explaining what went wrong and why sending the crest was a foolish idea isn't entirely possible between who might read it on this end and have thoughts- who might read it in transit, and who might read it on his end. The more she winds her way through the possibilities the finer she grinds the paste until the herbs are all but creamy in the mortar and pestle.

Silence will have to suffice.

It'll make the inevitable asking all the more complicated.

...she could simply never write home again that was an option- no, no it wasn't. Merde.

"...the cast- was there a hole drilled in it at the top, or was it just the crest?" Less anxious, more flat- resigned. One is recoverable. The other is damning. If Gregoire sent his personal crest...

This'll fall on her anyway. "Andraste save me from meddling siblings."

Edited 2016-03-21 07:11 (UTC)

He exhales, getting too annoyed for complete civility anymore.

"You're welcome, by the way." There is nothing about the restrictions placed on him that says he needs to be treated like this. "And perhaps you should consider that some people would be glad to have siblings at all."

Gregoire had meddled, certainly, but he'd done it because he cared. Anders had no siblings who would write friendly letters if he somehow wound up happy, no family period. If his mother were still alive, how would he find her without even knowing his name or hers?

"If I remember right there's a hole in the top. I didn't study it." He'd spent more time with the letter, honestly, but that's done as of now

"If you wish for a younger brother you are welcome to him. When my mother discovers he's 'lost' his personal crest- for all that he enjoys writing fiction he is a terrible liar and he would lie about something like this- she may very well disown him." For such things are not done or- something to that effect.

Maker forbid a LeBlanc be flawed and human.

She sets her hands on the table for a moment and again, weighs her options. Reasons she did not try to get overly entangled with them afterward- all the vague, unwritten rules. And now there's a political nightmare caught in the middle. Lovely. There was a headache pounding at her temples already- with a gesture she nudged the coals in the nearest brazier to life and started a pot of tea. Simple, familiar gestures to undercut the tension.

"I do not remember her well, but I do recall she took such things, pointless things, status things, or anything resembling an 'unprofitable gesture of compassion' seriously. I doubt three decades has changed that. Thank you for-" She makes a vague, inelegant gesture- she is not skilled in this. In working alongside someone she once cared for that she isn't certain how to feel about, in dealing with sensitive emotions, in dealing with her family. Any of it. "This."

Whatever in Andraste's name 'this' is. Maker knows she has no idea.

This. At least it's not said sarcastically. She means it, despite all of the distraction, and he nods stiffly.

"I'd take him. But that's not how families tend to operate." There's a pause as he frowns at her. "Do you truly think she'd disown him for that? It's..." They'd sent Adelaide away to be in captivity for nothing more than what she was born with, but there's a chance that had been more of a fear reaction. Fear and hatred, like his father.

This mess, though, this side of it, isn't his fault. It isn't. He had never asked her to write to Gregoire, he hadn't asked Gregoire for anything, and he's giving back the crest.

"Maybe she's mellowed in her old age and isn't cruel enough to abandon a second child. Or perhaps I'm giving too much benefit of the doubt to someone who thought it find to send one of hers off to armored-boot wakeup calls. She might be due aggravation."

"I am not arguing about the Circle with you, the point is moot." That would be a long discussion of ideals that would likely rouse Justice and neither of them truly wish to endure his company at the moment.

Anders has no choice. Adelaide? Would rather do without.

The kettle whistles, the tea steeps between one ground herb and the next, and she pours them both cups three quarters of the way full. A flask from under the side table of apple brandy is used to fill the remainder. She does not bother asking if he wants it or not. Enduring Orlesian Nobility bullshit calls for brandy. "The one thing I shall say is this: I did not have to endure any of this...family crest, arranged marriage, public appearances at soirees nonsense. Mages cannot hold land or titles; I was grateful for that."

Not for the first time he's reminded that by all accounts, White Spire was a great deal kinder than Kinloch Hold. The dark look that appears for a brief moment in his eyes isn't directed at her but at how such inconsistency served only to help the Templars and divide the mages. They would find a balance. And freedom. One way or another.

"There's always running away," he points out as soon as he's got his thoughts under control. "If it truly became unbearable, your family wouldn't have access to phylacteries." Unless a mage started making them and giving them out. The point of the matter, though, was that no one had to stay noble if they didn't want the perks and position.

"If there's something you don't want to be... don't. You owe them nothing. If you don't want to deal with it, you're an adult." Arranged marriage, no less. And she's clearly trying to step back into her family. Maker. Even if he'd truly just been Detlef he'd never stood a chance, had he? But that doesn't stop him from taking the offered glass. Especially when there's brandy involved. Justice can shut up - there's not enough here to get drunk, just take a little edge off and he needs that too.

"Because running from one's problems solves everything. The problem does not go away simply because you leave, and eventually it will catch up with you, likely when you aren't prepared to handle it. Better to do as you did in this. However awful this is-" She gestures with her teacup at Skyhold at large and the valley beyond. "You faced it on your own terms. The problem is not solved so much as it has changed but that is the way of things."

He could have kept lying forever- or been uncovered before he had a plan. That it worked out so awkwardly is a miracle in and of itself. He by all rights should be dead. It could be worse.

"If it were only my life that I was concerned over? I would. It is not. Currently the mages with the most political influence in the Orlesian courts are Morrigan, with her own ideas of how things should be done, and Vivienne." Who, honestly, is not someone she would have charm the courts on her behalf if she could help it. They would be charmed, certainly, but part of the larger problem is that mages are feared. Playing on that? Is not helping. "I was asked to be a voice of reason for my fellow mages. Not using every avenue at my disposal to do so simply because I find them frustrating or strange or uncomfortable is childish. I have a responsibility to them that goes beyond my own desires."

"That's different." In a way. Somehow. He's not quite sure what he means by that, but he keeps going.

"Just balls, just family crests, just dealing with that for being related isn't the same as dealing with it for a reason. I wasn't saying run from problems, but someone who doesn't want to be nobility and has no reason to stick around for it can simply walk away once they're an adult. You are choosing this. And for good reason, by the sound of it, but it's a choice."

Keeping talking feels like it's working for once. It's even a topic he's interested in.

"You're staying nobility to use it for a reason. But at the same time, you've power with it now. Your family has accepted you back is the impression I've gotten? Have it on your terms. You'll do specific things for them, but not other things, because you've now gained authority on your own terms as well. You could even have them move in return, having their powerbase in roots as Orlesian as the two you've named. Not that I know how exactly they could accomplish anything. It's got to be mages choosing to not go back to the--"

He breaks off. "Right. Not talking about the Circles right now. Especially because I am a supporter of running away when it comes to them. Repeatedly."

She downs most of her glass without flinching, topping it off with more tea- and a splash more brandy. Not as much as the first cup, but enough to get her through the day. "There are nobles and then there are LeBlancs. There is nothing more complicated and difficult to escape, aside from how I assumed I'd managed to do so, than an overly ambitious matriarch with hopes of becoming the next 'mother of Thedas' through convenient political marriages."

Such was her sister's fate, even if they've managed to claw some semblance of happiness out of their spouses. Found something worthwhile to do. Found a cause- whether or not that was their choice or yet again the urging of her mother in an attempt to make them remarkable, to make them relevant-

Well. No.

It would be that, wouldn't it?

"Gold, influence, and a name can get one quite far in the right circles. Between my own blood and my sister's marraiges? We can reasonably pull from Nevarra, The Anderfells, Rivain, Antiva, The Marches, and Fereldan in goods if nothing else. They've all written their support of the Inquisition, quietly. The more stable we become, the louder too shall their voices be. Whether or not I might use that, whether or not they might find it worthwhile for me to use that- depends upon compliance and negotiation. I'll not move on the point of marriages. The world is ending. I've no time for it. My mother knows this. In return- balls, appearances, letters." So many letters. So.

So many letters.

"It is a moot point for they do not exist any longer. The last act of the College of Magi was to dissolve them. They are dissolved. Keeping to that, now..." She shakes her head.

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

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