dumbshow | highly new, slightly improved open post

highly new, slightly improved open post

assorted morons

optional prompts/ideas

☆ caught in the rain meme
☆ little steps meme
☆ affectionate physical contact meme
☆ picture prompt also acceptable but link them so it's tidy
☆ AU ideas: soulmates AU, reincarnation AU, Bad End AU, canon divergent/roleswap AU, dorky college AU, crossover AU, super indulgent high fantasy AU
☆ melodrama is ultimate tier
★ SHIPPING AND FUCC:
☆ non-fluffy relationship types I'm down for: codependent, master/servant power imbalance type ships, "we're bad for each other but worse for anyone else," other things I am failing to think of tbh
☆ things I am not into: noncon (includes "dubcon"), incest, tsundere shit if your tsundere is just verbally abusive, gratuitous torture porn, you'll probably have to ask me about harder kinks and they will vary by character
☆ I don't have a kink list so pitch me an idea if u thirsty
☆ if you would prefer a locked post I can also make that happen

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If only indeed.

[Which might be taken as commiserating, except his tone makes it clear the ending of that sentence is more along the lines of perhaps then you'd shut up about the templars. Which is so wildly unfair, but then again, so is Fenris.]

Come along.

[Because he has a tent of his own, presumably. Or at least: he has a room in an inn not too far from here, and if Anders takes off that feathered cloak and pulls a hood up, he might just be able to sneak through without being caught.

Oh my Maker, they were roommates . . .

But, ah, he waits until he can stride further ahead (still impatiently waiting for him) before adding:]

I've cycled through all the elements.

[Is that typical? Do you often veer wildly between lightning and ice and fire and god knows what else? He knows that mages can do all three, but most seem to specialize, and maybe that's just down to personal preference, but maybe not? He really does not know a whole lot about mages on the most basic level. Advanced, horrifying blood magic, sure, but not Magecraft 101.

Anyway: that's a question. Is that normal, what is normal, Maker, but it stings his pride to not know. To have to ask.]

[Don't tell him to come along, Maker, this totally professional arrangement is going to end very quickly if he gets come along-ed enough times.

But he is coming along, once he's sure the tent has burnt to enough ash that it can't even be recognized as a tent anymore. And oh, they're doing this now? Right now. Okay...]

It was fire for me.

[And he was twelve, and his father sold him out before he had a chance to cycle through anything, but Fenris doesn't get to know that right now.]

The Veil is... well, truthfully, I haven't got any idea, but something is pushing magic into the world more than it was before.

[That's his guess, anyway, and so it's probably fine that Fenris is having his magical puberty now, and to such an extreme. Most likely. Anders' gaze lingers a moment on one of Fenris' tattoos, because Maker preserve them both, what does that do to an elf now suddenly made mage—

Well, he can't answer that. Take solace in the fact that he hasn't made fun of Fenris for being clueless about magic.]

[He notices, oddly enough, that lack of mockery, because of course he'd been braced for it. Anders has every right, and yet he doesn't, and that's . . .

Hmm.]

Fantastic. Of course there is.

[But that isn't really directed at Anders so much as to him. Is this what having a conversation feels like? Maybe! And so, some information in return:]

I don't know if it's affecting humans. But it is the elves. Every single one I've encountered has shown signs.

[Which means his job has become not just killing mages who are slavers, but in fact freeing mages too. It's weird. This is all very weird, he does not care for it.]

. . . is that a guess, or can you feel it? The Veil.

[Oh, so he cares about oppressed mages now, does he. Anders doesn't poke that particular bear, not yet, but he undoubtedly will; for now he simply hums, filing that information away: elves, then, because the humans...]

I can tell something is different. You can feel it, can't you? The pull in the air.

[It's different to Anders only because he's felt it all his life, but surely Fenris has some idea of how the magic feels around them.]

I've heard rumors, [he adds, slowly, like it's a poor choice to attempt to talk to Fenris about anything but elves.] Human mages overpowered by their own magic— not abominations. Faster than that.

[One minute a mage, the next minute practically burned through from the inside— or so say whispers in taverns, here on the edge of Tevinter. No one can joss me until DA4 is actually released, so that's the haps as of right now.]

I haven't seen it myself, but my social life is a little on hold, lately.

[It's canon now, Bioware.

Can he feel such things? It's hard to say, in no small part because he's adamantly avoided thinking about anything to do with magic since this first began. No, instead: he'd been focused on finding Anders. The man is good at shaking people off his trail; for weeks, Fenris has only had to think about him.

Anyway. He pulls a face, which says that he thinks those mages might have deserved such a fate-- but honestly, even that is more because it's expected of him than because he really thinks it.]

And what keeps you from such a fate? The abomination you host, or mere chance?

[Oh, whoop, there it is.]

[Oh Fenris, he did miss the callous judgment, truly he did. Or: he smiles thinly, as Fenris has given him the right to throw hands at any time now, but look: he's not. He is so generous.]

Maybe I'm just lucky.

[No, it's probably Justice. Or a bit of both.]

As far as I'm concerned, all this means is freeing the enslaved mages is more urgent than ever. Before the templars start slaughtering them all just in case.

[Do not argue with him about this, just pretend he's only talking about elves.]

[The problem: he doesn't disagree. It's not slaves' fault that they had magic forced upon them, and it would be the height of cruelty to abandon them now. But--]

If you mean that, you won't mind coming along with me on my next raid.

[It's not an argument? It's just different from what Anders had meant. Which is all well and good, but as they approach the inn, he adds:]

Put this on.

[His cloak, pulled off his shoulders and offered stiffly. They're gonna sneak up to his room.]

I thought— hmm.

[He thought this was just about teaching him some magic tips and then going their separate ways, not joining his group for however long. But they're in town now, and proximity to strangers makes him skittish as it always has. He still gives Fenris' cloak a look as he takes it, because ew, Fenris— but he tugs it on and pulls the hood up without complaint.

It's not like it's a nice gesture, he thinks, just a security measure, so he doesn't offer more than a vague grunt of thanks. You know, he didn't want to hang out in an inn, much as sleeping in an actual building is a rare luxury these days...

He gestures for Fenris to lead the way, and to his credit, he isn't about to cause a scene just because Fenris pisses him off. He'll follow him up to the room in silence, not speaking up again until they're upstairs and the door is shut and he's counted to twenty, just in case:]

What raid is this, then?

There's a transport of slaves coming through the area soon. Six or so.

[Did anyone notice? Did anyone see Anders? He doubts it, but he's also going to be on his guard all night, just in case.

His room is literally what one would expect it to be: impersonal, with all his things gathered in one place. He sits heavily on the bed, his arms braced lightly against his knees, and looks up at Anders.

It's strange for, god, so many reasons right now.]

If any of them have been turned into mages, we'll accomplish both our goals at once.

[Anders stands there a moment before awkwardly shrugging off the cloak and passing it back to Fenris. Then he just sort of shuffles back to the wall and sinks down to the floor, where he will enjoy sitting, do not comment on this, thank you.

So, then. Six mages, or at least, maybe six, and either way, six people who will most likely be in need of someone who knows a thing or two about healing. It's a tiny bit aggravating how much it makes sense for the two of them to do something like this together, actually.]

How soon is soon? Days? I'm to spend days holed up here in this room, with you?

[It's not like he can wander around town! And there are only so many magic lessons he can give in a day.]

Would you prefer to sleep in the woods? That can be arranged.

[But sleeping in the woods sucks, so maybe that really is the worse option.]

Three days. You can withstand that, I think.

[Part of him would rather sleep in the woods, yes, the part of him that knows sleeping in the woods leaves him less likely to get murdered in his sleep.]

I suppose I will have to.

[But can he, for now, just slump back against this wall and frown about his life in general? That sounds great.]

...Did you actually kill a pair of bounty hunters?

Not in cold blood. I attempted to dissuade them from you by claiming the bounty myself. They disagreed with me. Blades were drawn.

[So it goes, etc etc. Fenris shrugs.]

They will not be missed, I suspect.

People who wanted to capture me? No. I just didn't know if you were making it up to persuade me to come along.

[Not that that's really Fenris' style... Anders is sure he'd have been clocked in the back of the head and bullied into helping out in an abandoned warehouse somewhere, probably. But you know.]

If you decide to collect on my head, let me know, will you?

Certainly.

[He leans back, resting his weight on his hands.]

It would be far too dull otherwise. And why shouldn't I earn my pay? It's certainly big enough.

[Maker above, that's almost a joke, lazily drawled out as he stares down at him.]

Do you know how much you're worth now?

[That sure is a question... He hums and settles back a little more, stretching his legs and crossing one ankle over the other.]

Do I want to know?

[How much gold is blowing up a Chantry worth? With the Grand Cleric inside? Is His Royal Temper of Starkhaven funding it himself? Burning questions.]

But you tracked me down for magic, not for pay.

[It's a lot of money. It's an honestly ridiculous amount of money, but on the other hand, Anders has been free a long time.]

And what of it? I told you: I'm dangerous enough as it is, never mind without a teacher.

[That's not the point, bud.]

Nothing. Just thought we should both remember that.

[He'll remind him regularly, if he must. Do not kill him for money when this is over in a handful of days, thanks.]

Besides burning my tent, what else have you done?

[He won't. He might think about it, but he won't.]

A great deal of elemental damage. And--

[. . .]

It sets off my markings at random, without my say-so.

[Does this mean he just suddenly drops through furniture without warning? It definitely does.]

[...Haha, oh wow.]

If I hear any bumps in the night, I won't ask.

[Assuming that either of them actually sleeps tonight, which he is sure isn't going to happen unless he straight passes out. He doesn't even want to think about the possibility of a good night's sleep because he will knock out right here on the floor, and while he mostly trusts Fenris not to rip out his heart while he's still useful, he doesn't want anyone else to catch them unawares.

However, besides sleep...]

You have money for a room. Why don't you get us some actual food? [He's hungry and he wants real bread!!] I'll... show you how to light a candle, or something.

You can teach me how to stop this damned thing from interacting with my lyrium.

[Or candle lessons, either/or. But ugh, fine, food, that's as good an idea as any, and he stands with a scowl.]

Give it thought.

[And in the meantime, he'll get them . . . whatever food they have on offer, to be honest. Bread, cheese, and sausages, likely, that's the usual fare in these kinds of places. What's a vegetable, we just don't know.]

I— I'll think on it.

[He doesn't know what to do about that, actually; that is well beyond his areas of expertise, but maybe he'll come up with something. In any case, it's a relief to be left alone again, even if it's just to sit on the floor in someone else's room. The anxiety of being in town and being with Fenris are, hmm, the worst combination! Wow!

It occurs to him, as he leans his head back against the wall and stares at the ceiling, that he could leave. He could spirit himself away right out the window, and Fenris would probably find him again, but at least he could say he'd done it.

But he doesn't, and he's sitting cross-legged with his little pack in his lap, rooting through it when Fenris and the Hearty Food return. Don't look now but he's hunting for another hair tie.]

...You should start with the candle.

[Of course he should. If nothing else, control requires mastery; avoiding learning the basics will help no one.

But he can avoid it for a little longer, at least. Long enough for him to set the food on the floor between them and settle down there himself, a process that he draws out as long as possible. Then the candle, also set between them, because trying fire magic near the wooden floor is a super great idea.]

Any advice?

[Beyond, like, try not to set yourself on fire again.]

[Oh, and once again, they're doing this right now, huh. Anders looks at him for a moment, brow furrowed, then sets his pack aside and reaches for a piece of bread instead. Hair tie waits until he's got food in him, but hm - magic tips. Fenris has given him food and not called him anything nasty for a good half an hour, so he will cooperate.]

Concentrate, [he says, holding his other hand out over the candle. He's going to do this with one hand and eat bread with the other, but like, beginners have to concentrate.] In simplest terms, you have to pull the magic toward you and tell it what to do. Then—

[He flicks his wrist up once and the candle lights, easy as lying. Tada. Just do exactly that, first try please.]

[He glares at the candle after he blows it out, as if the wick has done something to offend him. Concentrate, Anders says, and he is, both hands outstretched, but he's also focusing on the fact he's doing this at all. That he, Fenris, is willingly and eagerly trying to do magic. That he has magic at all, that this is his life now, that he's here trying to master it just like his sister--

It's really more of a blaze than a single flame, shooting up past both their heads. Fenris flinches, glancing up sharply at the ceiling, but no-- the candle is burnt halfway down, but at least he didn't set the ceiling on fire. Fantastic!]

Shit!

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