Anders (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
justice_is_blond) wrote2016-01-15 11:45 am
justice_is_blond) wrote2016-01-15 11:45 am
Inbox for Fade Rift
[Please leave a message after the beep that doesn't actually exist.]
Then I am bound. It is a matter of honour.
[ Her voice is the smallest it has been now. ]
Do not mistake my acceptance for resignation. Do not think that all that I do is - is because it is more comfortable. I am here because I wish to study and learn, because my desire to do what my mother and the Chantry dictate is wrong outweighs everything else. I burn with it. I want to know the human body, to learn the pains and aches, to understand the depths of it and the hurts, but I also know that it is my honour as a Venaras to do as my family bids.
[ She lifts her hand and touches her chest. ]
I cannot picture myself dishonoured. I cannot imagine losing my mother and father and brother, as distant as I am from them. I cannot imagine myself labelled with... The brush of damnation for something that might be as simple as childish excitement. [ And it seems she is well practiced with talking herself out of her feelings towards women, no matter who she is speaking to. ] My pretty cage is as important to me as your freedom.
[ Her voice is the smallest it has been now. ]
Do not mistake my acceptance for resignation. Do not think that all that I do is - is because it is more comfortable. I am here because I wish to study and learn, because my desire to do what my mother and the Chantry dictate is wrong outweighs everything else. I burn with it. I want to know the human body, to learn the pains and aches, to understand the depths of it and the hurts, but I also know that it is my honour as a Venaras to do as my family bids.
[ She lifts her hand and touches her chest. ]
I cannot picture myself dishonoured. I cannot imagine losing my mother and father and brother, as distant as I am from them. I cannot imagine myself labelled with... The brush of damnation for something that might be as simple as childish excitement. [ And it seems she is well practiced with talking herself out of her feelings towards women, no matter who she is speaking to. ] My pretty cage is as important to me as your freedom.
And you are so content that you came to me.
[He meets her eyes, calling the bluff.]
Learn who you are, Sidony Venaras. Learn what you truly want before it is too late, rather than dismissing it as childish excitement. You could save so many lives... or you can take your knowledge, hide it away, and bear a child or two.
[Anders gets up and pushes some papers aside to pull out a very worn book, setting it on the table just in her reach.]
There's always more to learn.
[He meets her eyes, calling the bluff.]
Learn who you are, Sidony Venaras. Learn what you truly want before it is too late, rather than dismissing it as childish excitement. You could save so many lives... or you can take your knowledge, hide it away, and bear a child or two.
[Anders gets up and pushes some papers aside to pull out a very worn book, setting it on the table just in her reach.]
There's always more to learn.
I do not intend to stop my work as a surgeon for many, many years. I doubt my mother will drag me back by my ears yet.
[ But she looks uncomfortable, faced with the obviousness of her choice - to accept her fate or to fight against it. She's not certain what to do with herself, a knot of anxiety in her stomach, and she frowns as her fingers brush over the book.
There's no hiding how desolate she seems, suddenly. Small, in fact. ]
You make it sound so very easy.
[ But she looks uncomfortable, faced with the obviousness of her choice - to accept her fate or to fight against it. She's not certain what to do with herself, a knot of anxiety in her stomach, and she frowns as her fingers brush over the book.
There's no hiding how desolate she seems, suddenly. Small, in fact. ]
You make it sound so very easy.
[For the first time in this conversation Anders smiles, struck by the comment.]
I apologize for that. There's nothing easy to taking one's life and making of it what they will, what they want, if it goes against what is seen as proper.
[He pushes up a sleeve, showing old scars of shackles around his wrist before letting the cloth fall back over it and the smile fade.]
I escaped my Circle seven times, a fortress on an island in a lake in Ferelden. The scars you'll bear if you do this will be less physical, but no less real. Then again, is there such a thing as a life without scars? What matters is making them worth it.
I apologize for that. There's nothing easy to taking one's life and making of it what they will, what they want, if it goes against what is seen as proper.
[He pushes up a sleeve, showing old scars of shackles around his wrist before letting the cloth fall back over it and the smile fade.]
I escaped my Circle seven times, a fortress on an island in a lake in Ferelden. The scars you'll bear if you do this will be less physical, but no less real. Then again, is there such a thing as a life without scars? What matters is making them worth it.
[ The knot in her stomach just seems to be getting bigger and she can't quite look Anders in the eye, not after seeing his arm. ]
I have done something. I'm here. Isn't that enough?
[ She came to Anders because she thought he might give her confidence and he has, but she still feels on edge. The idea of someone knowing she was with a woman, that she cared for one, that she had embraced one as a lover... It makes goosebumps rise on her skin and her hands clench.
She is afraid, and she knows it. It is cowardly. ]
What is the purpose of gaining the scars if you will never be able to carry them without shame?
I have done something. I'm here. Isn't that enough?
[ She came to Anders because she thought he might give her confidence and he has, but she still feels on edge. The idea of someone knowing she was with a woman, that she cared for one, that she had embraced one as a lover... It makes goosebumps rise on her skin and her hands clench.
She is afraid, and she knows it. It is cowardly. ]
What is the purpose of gaining the scars if you will never be able to carry them without shame?
You have done something, and you are here. You were on a difficult battlefield, and were indispensable. Is it enough?
[It's a technique a few of his teachers had tried, turning his questions back on themselves. It had worked... sometimes.]
The value of the scars is that you look at them and see what was in the past, what could have happened to you, and what you've made instead. You've saved lives. You can continue to do so.
Is this enough for you? These few months or years of shaping your own life? Do you think that you can go back now that you've started to meet yourself?
[It's a technique a few of his teachers had tried, turning his questions back on themselves. It had worked... sometimes.]
The value of the scars is that you look at them and see what was in the past, what could have happened to you, and what you've made instead. You've saved lives. You can continue to do so.
Is this enough for you? These few months or years of shaping your own life? Do you think that you can go back now that you've started to meet yourself?
It must be enough. I am doing my duty.
[ Bowing her head, she purses her lips, feeling on edge and unsure, as if there is a great weight on her shoulders that she must carry alone. It is not the case, of course - if anyone is going to empathise in some way Anders would be the one to do it.
He shares many of her feelings. ]
I do not think we are talking about just my romantic interests anymore.
[ Bowing her head, she purses her lips, feeling on edge and unsure, as if there is a great weight on her shoulders that she must carry alone. It is not the case, of course - if anyone is going to empathise in some way Anders would be the one to do it.
He shares many of her feelings. ]
I do not think we are talking about just my romantic interests anymore.
[That's a no. But not a no that can quite be pressed on, just yet, and she at least may know it's a no. She has someone to talk about it with and she's thinking and they have at least a little time yet. The war won't be won tomorrow.]
I suppose we aren't. It all ties together, but we're not on that topic alone, no.
[Anders gestures toward the book.]
That's... along the lines of dangerous to have. You may find it interesting. I'd like to keep it in here, though, and only have it out from under the papers while the door's closed, for safety's sake.
[It isn't blood magic, but he's not sure the regular hateful non-healer, non-doctor would care to see the difference and it would be all too easy to find a mob roused against him.]
And, perhaps, reading it can be for the future's sake. Romantic interests, and life, and all that entails.
I suppose we aren't. It all ties together, but we're not on that topic alone, no.
[Anders gestures toward the book.]
That's... along the lines of dangerous to have. You may find it interesting. I'd like to keep it in here, though, and only have it out from under the papers while the door's closed, for safety's sake.
[It isn't blood magic, but he's not sure the regular hateful non-healer, non-doctor would care to see the difference and it would be all too easy to find a mob roused against him.]
And, perhaps, reading it can be for the future's sake. Romantic interests, and life, and all that entails.
[ Perhaps when she is more comfortable she might be more willing to accept what Anders is saying, but after the shock of war and the horror of battle, all tied together with Byerly's proposal and her own self-loathing getting tangled up with her interactions with others... It's no wonder her mind is a mess. ]
No. We are not.
[ And it is painful for her to think about even now.
Passing it back over, she nods her head. ]
There are many reasons I dislike the Chantry and their views on the study of the dead is among the top items on the list. I would not be foolish enough to bring their eye upon us as they would damn me with the same brush.
No. We are not.
[ And it is painful for her to think about even now.
Passing it back over, she nods her head. ]
There are many reasons I dislike the Chantry and their views on the study of the dead is among the top items on the list. I would not be foolish enough to bring their eye upon us as they would damn me with the same brush.
I don't think they could pull off executing you, but there'd certainly be consequences.
[Sending her back might be somewhat close to ending her life, in a metaphorical way.]
Feel free to look through it and read as you'd like. I can stop pressuring you for now.
[Sending her back might be somewhat close to ending her life, in a metaphorical way.]
Feel free to look through it and read as you'd like. I can stop pressuring you for now.
[ Sidony thinks of the agreement she had made with Byerly and wonders - they might have enough ammunition, but she's not going to mention that to Anders, no matter what awkward trust she has in him. ]
Aren't there always?
[ Nodding her head, she drags her fingers away from the book, forcing herself to be restrained. ]
Thank you.
Aren't there always?
[ Nodding her head, she drags her fingers away from the book, forcing herself to be restrained. ]
Thank you.
No good deed goes unpunished, but I was once told that you never know if you can fly until you begin to fall.
[He nods his head in reply to the thanks and gets up, stretching.]
Was there anything else? I don't mind your company or conversation, to be clear. But if you don't need my complete focus I've a dragon liver I'm cutting apart to see if there's anything to be learned.
[He nods his head in reply to the thanks and gets up, stretching.]
Was there anything else? I don't mind your company or conversation, to be clear. But if you don't need my complete focus I've a dragon liver I'm cutting apart to see if there's anything to be learned.
[ There's a moment of quiet, uncertain hesitance before she purses her lips and speaks. ]
Are you dedicated to doing this alone or would you tolerate some assistance?
Are you dedicated to doing this alone or would you tolerate some assistance?
[Anders smiles and gestures at the wash basin.]
More than tolerate. Someone to bounce observations off would be welcome, but if I tell you to stop you'll need to stop right away. I'm taking apart what dragon organs I can to further what I know of how they deal with the Blight. There might be a risk involved.
More than tolerate. Someone to bounce observations off would be welcome, but if I tell you to stop you'll need to stop right away. I'm taking apart what dragon organs I can to further what I know of how they deal with the Blight. There might be a risk involved.
[ She goes to prepare and clean herself, nodding her head. ]
I didn't get this far without some understanding of how to follow instruction. [ She offers a small smile. ] I am prepared to take the risk.
I didn't get this far without some understanding of how to follow instruction. [ She offers a small smile. ] I am prepared to take the risk.
action, somewhere, handwaves time to "post-beginning-of-year,"
faithlikeaseed
2019-01-06 11:17 pm (UTC)(link)
It might be the library--or the mess hall, after hours--but wherever it is, it's not Myr's office and so he's here, now, with a journal that would appear passing familiar to someone who'd seen him carry it out of the Abbey on the White Cliffs. Along with as much else as could be salvaged and easily transported from the library, that the survivors were willing to part with. All the little pieces of a mystery they hadn't solved in time to save everyone. It's an itch, a wound, in him, a need to put it all together and understand well enough to keep it from happening again.
He's looking paler than usual, drawn out thin with cares and sleeplessness (and an arm that just isn't healing right); and there's a frown on his face as he pores over the Revered Mother's handwriting, tracing the lines with a finger when they begin to blur together from fatigue.
Needless to say he's quite oblivious to the world around him.
He's looking paler than usual, drawn out thin with cares and sleeplessness (and an arm that just isn't healing right); and there's a frown on his face as he pores over the Revered Mother's handwriting, tracing the lines with a finger when they begin to blur together from fatigue.
Needless to say he's quite oblivious to the world around him.
Getting up late from Darktown often meant that Anders missed the normal dinnertime spread, so he's got a plate of small piles of assorted meal leavings that he's bringing out to the mess hall. The large mess hall. That's nearly empty. He could have a whole table to himself to spread out at. That's the main thought in his mind until he sees the volume that Myr's pouring over and pauses, deliberating. The trip to the abbey had been stressful to say the least, but he feels like he's still missing pieces of what happened there.
"Are those your notes?" He hasn't sat down, not quite yet, waiting to see how Myr responds to being quietly addressed before he decides.
"Are those your notes?" He hasn't sat down, not quite yet, waiting to see how Myr responds to being quietly addressed before he decides.
"No--a journal, not mine," Myr replies before processing who's asked the question, not looking up.
Then he registers the voice, and does look up, expression carefully neutral as he considers Anders. "Revered Mother Odetta's," he clarifies.
It could be wielded as a dagger, or a piece of defiance, but his tone's as quiet and weary as his look right now; nothing pointed in it, just facts. "I can move, if you'd like the space--"
The entire, echoing, empty space where there's not much of anyone else and he wouldn't be bothering Anders reading quietly all the way across the room. Even he can't really excuse that as simple politeness, and sighs at himself, reaching to rub at a temple. "Or--no, there's plenty of tables, aren't there. I'm sorry,"
Without an explanation of why, really. Whatever he still feels about the abbey he's said he's forgiven the others, and should act it.
Then he registers the voice, and does look up, expression carefully neutral as he considers Anders. "Revered Mother Odetta's," he clarifies.
It could be wielded as a dagger, or a piece of defiance, but his tone's as quiet and weary as his look right now; nothing pointed in it, just facts. "I can move, if you'd like the space--"
The entire, echoing, empty space where there's not much of anyone else and he wouldn't be bothering Anders reading quietly all the way across the room. Even he can't really excuse that as simple politeness, and sighs at himself, reaching to rub at a temple. "Or--no, there's plenty of tables, aren't there. I'm sorry,"
Without an explanation of why, really. Whatever he still feels about the abbey he's said he's forgiven the others, and should act it.
Odetta. He stands there, caught. The answers could be there, the bridges to the gaps in his knowledge, but the whole situation had been such a mess. No. Mess isn't quite the right word for it - people dead, hand loped off, miscommunications left and right and center. And the offer to move, he doesn't know quite how to take it when paired with the apology. Is it all right if he sits? Is it not? Life would be a lot easier if he was good at reading people, but he's as bad at it as he is at being unreadable.
On the other hand, avoiding an uncomfortable situation seems cheap, like it would be the easy way out. He sits down.
"Does it... Are you finding many answers in it?" They'd disagreed very strongly about what was going on there. He'd been wrong at least in part but even at the end of things there'd been little clarity to go around.
On the other hand, avoiding an uncomfortable situation seems cheap, like it would be the easy way out. He sits down.
"Does it... Are you finding many answers in it?" They'd disagreed very strongly about what was going on there. He'd been wrong at least in part but even at the end of things there'd been little clarity to go around.
"I," Myr starts, stops. Moves over a little--not as if he's avoiding Anders, but in the way one simply does when one's used to group eating and someone new joins the table. "--I think," he continues, "I am. Or will be, once I've had time to put this together with their letters."
He looks down at the page he's been reading before closing the journal and setting it before him. "There's things I still don't wholly understand but the chance for doing that's likely passed. But she was--she was a good woman in an awful situation."
A pause, a breath out. "Most of them were."
That was a point of contention between them but Myr doesn't hammer it. Just continues staring down at the journal, that tired expression still on his face.
He looks down at the page he's been reading before closing the journal and setting it before him. "There's things I still don't wholly understand but the chance for doing that's likely passed. But she was--she was a good woman in an awful situation."
A pause, a breath out. "Most of them were."
That was a point of contention between them but Myr doesn't hammer it. Just continues staring down at the journal, that tired expression still on his face.
They were stupid, messing with something they didn't understand... but many of them had seemed to at least have good intentions for doing so. Lack of foresight didn't outweigh that many of them might in fact have been good. He spoons some green stuff onto his bread before finally nodding. It doesn't cost him anything to only look at one factor here.
"They were. Estmond especially." He's always going to be a little more biased toward someone trying their best to fix people with meager resources and training. Even though he never did find the bodies Estmond had suggested were there. Then again, when your basement is flooded and filled with illusions, you could potentially hide anything in it.
"I still don't understand all of what happened there. It got... chaotic."
"They were. Estmond especially." He's always going to be a little more biased toward someone trying their best to fix people with meager resources and training. Even though he never did find the bodies Estmond had suggested were there. Then again, when your basement is flooded and filled with illusions, you could potentially hide anything in it.
"I still don't understand all of what happened there. It got... chaotic."
The mention of Estmond hits Myr harder than he thought it would--one of those sudden, swift darts to the heart that makes it skip a beat, makes the throat close with grief. He puts a fist to his mouth and closes his eyes until it's passed, until he can say, "He deserved better."
A pile of rock on a frigid little rainswept island for a tomb. Pray the fall killed him instantly, and not the slow suffocation, or the cold, or the crushing press of organs ground to a pulp--
Myr shakes his head once, dislodging the thought. "It did--get chaotic." Something lurks between the words, something culpable and painful and curled barbed around his heart. It invites him to lash out, place the blame elsewhere, not examine his own role in that.
Except he's been doing exactly that in his obsessive rereading of the abbey's library, recognizing every instant he could have said or done something different and maybe changed the ultimate outcome.
(Though there wasn't any stopping Alvar once she'd died. And she would have, whoever it was up on that stage with her. That's not blame on him, at least.)
"I had," carefully, "meant to speak to you again after we argued. I asked Estmond about the bodies." For--perhaps--the wrong reasons, but he had done it.
A pile of rock on a frigid little rainswept island for a tomb. Pray the fall killed him instantly, and not the slow suffocation, or the cold, or the crushing press of organs ground to a pulp--
Myr shakes his head once, dislodging the thought. "It did--get chaotic." Something lurks between the words, something culpable and painful and curled barbed around his heart. It invites him to lash out, place the blame elsewhere, not examine his own role in that.
Except he's been doing exactly that in his obsessive rereading of the abbey's library, recognizing every instant he could have said or done something different and maybe changed the ultimate outcome.
(Though there wasn't any stopping Alvar once she'd died. And she would have, whoever it was up on that stage with her. That's not blame on him, at least.)
"I had," carefully, "meant to speak to you again after we argued. I asked Estmond about the bodies." For--perhaps--the wrong reasons, but he had done it.
Edited 2019-01-07 07:06 (UTC)
I got this far thanks to flouting instruction.
[Amusement shows in his eyes and voice as he rolls back out the small knives and tweezers before pulling a cloth off of a very large liver on a tray. He holds his hand over it, and his hand glows an orange-red.]
Thawing this out. I freeze what I get to stave off decay as I can't always get to it right away. The gangs in Darktown get more worked up during the cold months, it seems.
[Amusement shows in his eyes and voice as he rolls back out the small knives and tweezers before pulling a cloth off of a very large liver on a tray. He holds his hand over it, and his hand glows an orange-red.]
Thawing this out. I freeze what I get to stave off decay as I can't always get to it right away. The gangs in Darktown get more worked up during the cold months, it seems.
I'm not quite as old as you yet.
[ Said with a small smirk, to show that she's probably joking. Probably.
Unfortunately, she does not look at his hands, deliberately glancing elsewhere, a wrinkle on her nose. ]
It seems like a logical thing to do.
[ Said with a small smirk, to show that she's probably joking. Probably.
Unfortunately, she does not look at his hands, deliberately glancing elsewhere, a wrinkle on her nose. ]
It seems like a logical thing to do.
Because he doubted and mistrusted you, Anders' mind non-helpfully fills in. He takes a bite, acknowledging the blow to his pride and breathing past it. It's not fair to be upset about it when he'd done his own searching with Teren. Not that he'd told her there might be a lot of corpses to be stumbled upon.
"I'd meant to ask him for more," he says slowly, "but then every time I saw him after that there were too many patients and I became preoccupied." He'd had to prioritize the still-living, no matter how barely they were hanging on, over the dead.
His expression is as guarded as possible when he looks up, but the slight tension in his voice betrays him. "And did he have more to say on the topic?"
"I'd meant to ask him for more," he says slowly, "but then every time I saw him after that there were too many patients and I became preoccupied." He'd had to prioritize the still-living, no matter how barely they were hanging on, over the dead.
His expression is as guarded as possible when he looks up, but the slight tension in his voice betrays him. "And did he have more to say on the topic?"
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