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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[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!

[Wow. Anders isn't shocked by any means, especially not after the tent; he set a whole barn on fire when he was a boy, to say nothing of how many magical mishaps he'd seen from children at the Circle over the years... Maybe that's it, maybe Fenris struggling to do magic is just reminiscent enough of those children years ago that he doesn't scoff or roll his eyes.

He does take the plate of food, slide it closer to himself, but that's for the food's sake, really. Let him eat some of this cheese...]

That's not what happens when you concentrate. [Just saying.] Try not to think about how much you hate every mage you've ever met while you're doing it. Before you alert the whole inn that a fugitive apostate and whatever you count as now are playing with magic up here.

[Chill out, not that Anders has ever chilled out in his life himself, but chill out.]

I'm not--

[Whatever. Fenris exhales harshly and focuses back on the candle. Both hands, his fingers outstretched, glaring at the cooling wax. Which isn't concentrating either, damn it . . .

He closes his eyes. Takes in a breath, tries to think about nothing but flames. Fire. willing the fire into being, using his magic (and he hates that it is his magic, that he can feel it thrumming in his veins, that he instinctively twists something within him like that to produce--

--ice, crystalizing on the hissing wick and his fingertips both, and Fenris sits back with a frustrated growl.]

This is pointless.

[Bud, you tried two times. But it's impossible to clear his mind, never mind concentrate. Instead, he reaches over to grab some bread.]

Oh— [Oh, a little too delighted, like he's talking to a child but in the particular way that he would at the Circle, kind of proud. He puts more food in his mouth immediately, before he says something ridiculous like You did it! to Fenris of all people, but listen: he did do it.

Anders sits back and focuses on the food, then, while Fenris sulks. Objectively this must be... hard for him, Anders knows that, but he still finds it difficult to empathize with, mm, the particular hate for every mage to ever live and say anything encouraging about the candle quite yet.]

Well, I'm quite good at fire, so it evens out.

[Chew....... that's the best he can do, bud. It's this or casual disdain.]

[His head snaps up at that delighted little exclamation, absolutely unsure if it's genuine or mocking. He can't read it, and so decides on the latter, because why wouldn't it be mockery? Except it hadn't sounded like it, so . . . hm. Best not to think about it.

There's a long few moments of silence, ostensibly dedicated to eating, before he says:]

Much as it may shock you, my thoughts don't linger on how I hate every mage.

[Not right now, anyway. No, his thoughts linger closer to home. He doesn't . . . it isn't hating himself, but perhaps hating this part of himself. Hating the fact he has to even acknowledge that it is a part of himself. He'd ignored the implications of the lyrium in his skin, how much it forced him into being magic already, never mind this.

His head tips up, his eyes darting over Anders' face.]

Did you ever resent it?

[Anders gives him a look, eyebrow raised, less disbelieving and more wondering what Fenris would like him to think he thinks about, given what the majority of their interactions have been like since they met. They've known each other for how many years? It isn't as if Anders has put in the effort to be Fenris' friend, either, so it's more of a... fact, that he wouldn't know what's on Fenris' mind, anyway.

Whatever. He makes another face down at his food, a touch irritated. Irrationally, perhaps, but it's now that Fenris wants to talk about this... Fine.]

No. This is who I am.

[There are tertiary things he resents: the Chantry, of course, the templars, his father— but his own magic? No.]

Sometimes I resent having to keep telling everyone else that not every mage is a horrible hive of demons. Danger this, evil that, mages mages mages... I can usually fix that, though, by feeding a few stray cats. Or writing a manifesto.

[This is about one-half joke.]

[Of course not. Of course not, and Fenris doesn't know what he expected. He ought to be irritated at himself, but instead finds himself vaguely disappointed.]

You can get the food tomorrow, then.

[A half of a joke back.]

Is that all you've done these past few years? Feed cats and write pamphlets?

What, did you want me to do more?

[Shall he trek off to find the nearest Chantry? It might be a bit of a hike from this nowhere town.]

I do what I can where I'm able. For the mages, I mean. You know what it's like to need to keep a low profile sometimes, although most of us keep our heads down in tents in the woods.

[Sigh!]

It was a good tent.

It was a tent. You needn't mourn it. I hardly meant to set the damn thing on fire.

[He will never feel guilty about the tent.]

And it was a question, not a critique. I've heard rumors about you for the past few years; I wondered how true to life they were.

I only had one tent!

[Show some respect, thanks. This is a real grievance and he won't give it up, but- ah. Aha. He sits back, plucking at a bread crust. Hmm--]

In any case, that depends on which rumors you heard. I made most of them up to see what would stick. The one about taking on a whole army of darkspawn got especially popular before I left the Free Marches.

[Which is clearly ridiculous, because Fuck Going To The Deep Roads, but it makes him sound very cool and badass, so he'll allow it.]

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