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.]]

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An offer made and by all appearances accepted, Adelaide does as she says. So long as Anders is to heal- she works within the same tent. She tends to her own patients, does not monitor him overtly anymore than whichever warden of the day tends to, and does not speak to him unless she must. Her usual breaks for quiet and silence and tea are not quite as restful as they might have been previously- the air between them thick and silent. They work, they heal, she stands as much a guard against a mishap as a templar would otherwise- and a guard against provocation by any that would wish a piece of him-

At least within the healing tents. Beyond? It is no longer quite so greatly her concern.

One morning (after the soiree in particular), she is...uncharacteristically late. When she arrives her hair is in disarray, smudged khol softening the lines of her eyes, the faint air of whatever perfume she'd worn the night before yet lingering. Almost as though she rolled out of bed and came directly to the tent. She takes a moment to compose herself, folding her sleeves back as she looks over the poultices for the day. "How are we for inventory?"

[When he sees Detlef - no, Anders - around in the tents, it takes almost everything within Bruce to not just march up and punch him in the face right there and then, consequences be damned.

It's only really remembering how Adelaide had been after this had all happened that makes Bruce not do that, as much as he would like to. As much as he really wants to. As much as he really thinks that Det--that Anders deserves it. The anger has been seething inside of him for a good while now, since he knew the truth of Anders' deception. Not that it was the deception himself that he was angry at, but--

Maker.

The most rational thing would be to just avoid Anders from here on out, but considering everything Bruce can't just let this lie. He waits until its late evening and most of the patients are already taken care of before he finally goes to where Anders is. He doesn't bother to announce his presence, simply marching in without a word, coming to a stop right before Anders and giving him a brief glare before his speaks.]

Outside. Now.

[His words are devoid of any emotion, but the look on his face tells all - Bruce means business.]

Edited 2016-03-18 06:41 (UTC)

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.

[Bruce's anger is almost tangible, and part of Anders wants to ignore the command. The man can be as angry as he'd like - Anders hadn't betrayed his secret. But at the same time, he knows how it feels to be lied to.]

A moment.

[He's been working with the sick and injured. He's not leaving without washing his hands, but Anders doesn't take excessively long to do it or long to grab his staff. There's no lingering. He'll see what Bruce has to say, and deal with it.

Anders' expression is mild enough despite the tension in his body. Once they're outside the walls and sufficiently clear of any bustle of refugees, he turns and looks at Bruce.]

Speak your mind.

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."

There has been much noise in Skyhold since the reveal, and after a time it seemed to have calmed down. Now though, there seems to be a buzz about the keep again, particularly around the healing tents. There is certainly a tension in the air, and the whispers are nonstop, making the tents uncomfortable during work. A lot people are mad at Anders. They have good reason.

It's because of that, that Sam comes looking for the man when they aren't working - figures he'd find him at a tent though. Finding Anders isn't hard, mostly since the loud noises of a kitten could easily be heard around to which he follows.

When he finally does find him, struggling with the small feline, Sam simply stands there, watching for a time. It's honestly still a bit hard to wrap his head around, especially with watching the show. 'Still better than a mabari,' Anders says once he notices him standing nearby, which has the young spirit healer cracking a bit of a smile despite himself.

"Mabaris don't try to put holes in your tents."

[Bruce, at least, waits - he's very good at waiting after all, and doubly so when it comes to things that concern him. Once Anders is ready Bruce starts to walk, and the two of them meander their way from the tents, through the courtyard, and finally outside of Skyhold - though not too far, but away enough that they have their privacy.

Once they stop Anders speaks, and Bruce takes a moment before he can manage to say anything.]

You-- [He stops himself before he gets too far ahead. There's so many things he wants to say and not many of them will really be conducive, so he tries to pick the best one without giving into the urge to punch him in the face.] Why did you even come here in the first place?

[He had already caused so much destruction. Was he here to cause even more?]

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."

He can't help but exhale with some relief when Sam smiles a little. Anders hadn't known what to expect from the younger man, but he's glad that the initial reaction, at least, isn't fury.

"No, they simply get mud everywhere inside them. And gnaw on the ropes, the stakes, all of it." His own smile is a little weak, an little nervous, but it's there. Also there is a sense of the Fade to Sam. His attempt had been successful, then. Good.

Purrelden decides to go for Anders' bootlaces and the mage straightens up, surrendering to her antics for the moment.

"I'm glad you've found a spirit to work with. Who came?" Sam will tell him why he's here soon enough, likely. For now, Anders will give him time instead of pressing.

[It's not what he was expecting. Most people didn't care to know that... and really, he doesn't know if Bruce actually does. But he'll answer it anyway, with only a raised eyebrow to show his surprise.]

To help where I could. To see if-- [There's a quick glance to make sure no one is close enough to overhear before he continues.] To see if our people truly had a chance at equality here. A chance at apostates no longer having to run or hide, at the term never being applied again. We've lived in so much fear for so long. I needed to know if our future truly could be brighter than our past, and I needed to do what I could to ease the suffering of the chaos around us as I know I'm one of the causes.

[Now to see if the man will believe Anders, or if he's seeking a specific argument.]

"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.

[Bruce does care, honestly, because in the end he knows in a way he and Anders are in similar positions - or at least from what he's come to understand, and his answer only confirms that. They both want to do better, want to help others, want to... want to do good. Except that Bruce himself has already caused so much harm in the past and Anders--

Anders.]

If you really cared, then why-- [He can't even bring himself to say it out. He was nowhere near the Free Marches when it happened but the news had come nonetheless, and what happened after that--] --what you did, that wasn't helping. That was hurting.

His smile grows a bit more at how Def- Anders is still so against dogs, and Purrelden making a game of attacking shoe laces. It's a silly and amusing conversation that isn't affected by the odd tension.

Who came?

The question has the smile fading on Sam's face, his lips thinning a bit at the praise that comes with it. It's rather bittersweet at the moment. "Fortitude. It answered rather immediately and the trail was hard. Obviously I passed. It's certainly messed with my sleep schedule a bit."

"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."

[There's a chance Bruce is listening, and because of that Anders doesn't go with the usual diatribe about no one caring about mages. He exhales, releasing some of the tension.]

Meredith was escalating. I've treated enough abuse victims to know the pattern in their partners. The Rite of Annulment was, at most, days away. And the choice was to do nothing, to stand there and let a full Circle be slaughtered, or to act and be the one to murder hopefully fewer.

[Anders looks down for a moment before meeting Bruce's eyes again.]

Justice could not abide standing by. And I... It did hurt people. It hurt a great many. And at the end of the fighting in Kirkwall, the death toll was likely the same as it would have been and not less. I traded lives instead of saving. There is literally nothing I can do to make up for the deaths. I can heal, I can try to help, and that is what I am trying to do now.

He can see the change as it happens and he regrets his choice of topic. He's not been smart in much of anything of late, and he sighs.

"I'm sorry. Not for the sleep schedule, that's not my fault and it's part of learning. Fortitude should at least be... No. Fortitude will be a pain in the ass about that. Carrying on despite external matters and all that. But I am sorry for the deception."

A glance down shows him his laces are hopeless knots, but at least Purrelden's tangled enough that she's not going to be attacking the tent again any time soon.

"Would you care to have a seat?"

[All Bruce really knows of Kirkwall had been in Tale of the Champion, and even in that sometimes not all details were talked about. And for good reason too, he imagined. All the same... despite the Templars there being unreasonable - and Bruce knew unreasonable Templars - there hadn't been a need to do... what he did.

All those lives. All those people. Gone in an instant.]

And you just-- [He chokes up here, because how. How could anybody think that trading lives was ever worth it? No matter how one tried to justify it murder was murder. There was no way to suagrcoat it.]

You can't just justify killing people like that. How could you even-- [Trading lives? To kill innocents and Templars just to save fellow mages? How can that ever be worth it?] Did you even stop to think what would come out of it? How your actions would affect everyone else?

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."

[His expression goes flat. He should have just gone with the usual, apparently.]

Yes. In the middle of Meredith yelling and Orsino trying desperately to negotiate to prolong their lives just a few more days I stopped and twiddled my thumbs and contemplated every possible outcome, because I of course could think straight and wasn't worried, hadn't just had several non-mage friends slaughtered by Templars simply for smuggling things into the Circle and a few vulnerable, abused mages out. There was such a great deal of time for thinking things through.

[His voice is equally flat. It's needed, because Justice is getting frustrated and Anders is hoping to have a conversation and not an actual fight.]

If you could stand there and let mages die by doing nothing, then so be it. I couldn't. Justice couldn't. I will never say it was right. But I could see no other way to even start to begin to help and I was trying to cut down the number of casualties. That's all I was thinking might come out of it, despite my hopes that the next time a Circle tried to murder their people they would stop and rethink it.

"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."

[The flatness of Anders' response isn't really get him any points here, either. Bruce's lips purse and his fists curl, starting to tremble a little at the anger that seethes inside of him. If his mind was clearer he could try to understand and maybe even empathize with him - but right now all he hears are excuses. Excuses to take lives, attempts to justify himself for all the deaths that he had caused, the suffering he brought onto people. All for the sake of his justice.

But none of that--none of those is justice. There is no justice in senseless murder.]

So? Are you satisfied at what you've done? Can you go to bed at night even after knowing all the lives that you've taken for your own crusade? [Bruce doesn't even have any of these pretty reasons and the pain and death he had caused - even accidentally - haunts him every night, every waking moment. It eats at him, always, the pain and guilt of being who and what he is.] I don't understand how you can still stand here and think that anything you do now can make up for everything that you've already done.

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

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1 and 3 aka THE SHOWDOWN

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so much self-projection, i'm so sorry