newcastlecrew | lookin' for a sign of life

lookin' for a sign of life

[The Deep Roads yet again. And with a mage. The idea behind the thing made sense. Alistair was a former Templar-in-Training and could dispel the magic of a renegade mage if need be. Alistair really hoped it wouldn't come to that. He liked Anders for what that was worth. Granted, the two didn't know each other very well and Anders delighted in giving Alistair a difficult time... not that the other Warden really had to try too hard. But they've had some fun chats and Alistair is never one to shy away from learning from another person. Those remarks about being a templar could go, though. No matter how many times Alistair reminded Anders that he never actually was one, the mage always seemed to conveniently forget.

But now it was just the two of them in the dark chill, two Wardens meant to complement each other with their various strengths. The mission was simple enough in theory: determine whether or not the darkspawn had returned underground and if so, note where among the Deep Roads to the best of their ability. A task easier said than done considering how easy to was to lose one's way.

Alistair adjusts the pack against his shoulders and holds his glowstone torch aloft. Everything looked the same.]

You know, I always wondered why my father willingly came down here twice and now here I am doing the same thing. Though I'll have to be honest, the food that was rationed for us really isn't that bad. I have a feeling someone knows how I feel about cheese based on the amount of it in my bag. The meat's not bad either, though I'm... not entirely sure what it is.

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[ Meant to complement each other. Right. Anders has a far more cynical view of their assignment together, himself. He's been saddled with a nanny, as if he's some renegade mage just waiting to happen. Joining the Wardens in the first place is just about the most radical thing he's ever done, and at the moment, he's not looking to dethrone the accomplishment. Least of all by ruining his place among them, running off going all mad apostate.

But apparently all the trust he's built up helping the Commander basically save the world a second time over means little, after the fact. Now he's stuck out here, trawling aimlessly through the Deep Roads with a would-be Templar for a babysitter.

Anders has been tuning him out, more or less, as they trudge along - Alistair is a talker, no doubt, one doesn't go an hour of travel alongside him without recognizing it - but at that idle wondering, he can't help but interject— ]

Deepstalker, I'll bet.

[ He keeps his tone light and airy, gaze trained on ahead, so as not to tip his hand. (But it's no fun messing with Alistair if you let him know you're doing it right away.) ]

With all those tunnels beneath the Keep, it makes up more than half our rations now, you know. Bit gamey for my taste, though. And I just can't help thinking of those beady little eyes and gnashing mouths... Ruins my appetite.

[Alistair likes Anders for the most part, but there's one very large thing that separates them. It isn't that one is a mage and one was a templar trainee. It's that Alistair tends to be very obvious with his jokes whereas Anders doesn't always let on when he's being serious. It leads to both frustration on Alistair's end and a determination to know his partner in quest better.

Though he continues walking, Alistair's steps slow as he considers.]

So if we run out of food... we'll have to kill one and cook it?

One? Try ten.

[ Anders scoffs, slowing his own pace only once he's ranged a handful of steps ahead of Alistair. He has a less than charitable thought about Templars and their ability (or lack thereof) to walk and think at the same time - but he doesn't dislike Alistair quite enough to share it.

He stops and pats the warm lump of Ser Pounce-a-Lot curled up under his coat, waiting a few paces for Alistair to catch up. ]

There's not much meat on those slimy little bodies. And half of it is terribly poisonous. ...Come to think of it, though, I'm not actually sure which half.

[ The faintest hint of amusement may be beginning to creep into his expression. But it's impossible to keep a straight face, when Alistair just makes it so easy. ]

[Alistair considers as he walks, sometimes holding the torch closer to the stone to examine the markings on the walls.] If I had to guess I'd say the bottom half. They sometimes wear some semblance of clothes, right? So whatever's still clothed and not as infected is probably the better bet. And usually the clothes are on the bottom.

[It seems logical enough, and satisfied with his conclusion Alistair quickens his steps to race ahead of Anders. What he sees is their first fork in the road, and he stuffs the torch into a crevice along the wall to make a note on his parchment.]

Wonderful thing about unmapped roads, impossible choices to make. Do you prefer all enveloping darkness or all enveloping darkness with a side of rubble?

[ ...Honestly, this is getting less fun, the more earnestly Alistair believes him. Anders can't help rolling his eyes behind the other man's back, as he lets him hurry up and take the lead. ]

Of course. When we find a deepstalker wearing pants, it's all yours.

[ Because that's definitely what he's picturing, now. (At least that's kind of funny, though.)

Anders strolls up beside Alistair, apparently unhurried, as he comes to a stop. He peers over his shoulder, trying to get a look at his notes, if only for something to do. Though at his question, he doesn't hesitate. ]

That's easy. We go left. [ Anders waves a hand, summoning a wisp in a bloom of uneasy green light as he steps toward the slightly more rubble-strewn fork in the tunnel. ] When faced with an impossible choice, never do the right thing!

[Alistair laughs far too hard at the joke and can hear the echoes bounce from the walls around them after he stops. He winces a little and gives Anders an apologetic shrug.]

Well. At least I don't think I gave us away or anything.

[Only because the darkspawn can sense them already, he doesn't have to say it. But Alistair forges forward, placing himself between the mage and any potential unseen harm.]

How much experience have you had with darkspawn anyway, pants or no pants? I'm not doubting your abilities or anything, far from it. I just still don't know terribly much about you and it might be nice to put that to use, you know, professionally.

[ Okay, even Anders feels that's a bit excessive. And he certainly isn't one to dismiss an easy ego boost.

But he only rolls his eyes a little as Alistair catches his breath and immediately puts himself in the lead again. (And the look is more for the latter than anything, really.) ]

Oh, plenty. Big darkspawn, small darkspawn, bepantsed, talking darkspawn - I've seen it all, by now. Maybe I haven't spent quite as long as you have chasing them around, but the Commander managed to make just a few months feel like years.

Or maybe that was just living with the constant threat of death and dismemberment? Not that I'm unused to it. I did come from the Circle, after all.

Well the Circle's outdated and doesn't know much of anything. [The response is quick, probably too quick.] This isn't a slight on your education or anything. I'm certain you can read very well, but the whole thing is backwards.

[Alistair kicks a rock in annoyance thinking about how close he had come to being one of those who guard the Circle.]

But you're making up the talking darkspawn.

'Backwards' is too kind a word for what the Circle does to mages. Teaching us to read notwithstanding, of course.

[ Because that's the primary takeaway one gets with a Circle education. Is there just a hint of sarcastic bitterness in his tone? Maybe. ]

But I am not making up the talking darkspawn. Ask the Commander if you won't believe me, we were both there.

Hey, I'm saying I agree with you.

[The quickness in Alistair's voice slows as well as softens. He considers reaching a hand toward Anders' arm and begins doing so before thinking the better of it and retreating.

I just... want you to know that while I don't always understand magic, I do know that what the Circle does isn't right. A good deal of attention brought to mages isn't right, and you won't find me in disagreement about that.

[ Anders shrugs, looking lost for a moment as he casts his gaze aimlessly around - the dark, crumbling stone tunnel providing no convenient point to latch onto. It seems as if he wants to say something, in that instant, before a thin, forced smile replaces whatever honest stir of emotion might have so briefly been glimpsed, there. ]

Well, fat lot of good any of that does us, down here, right? The darkspawn aren't so hot on politics. I think that's their one redeeming quality, personally.

It does do us some good.

[Alistair's voice is at once kind and rigidly stubborn.]

It's important to know that another Warden has your back, and I do, without question. Can't say that for the darkspawn, huh?

If that's the bar, I'd say you're setting it a little low.

[ Anders lapses from forced cheer into something a little more surly, when Alistair won't let up. Just laugh and move on, is that so much to ask? Why does everything have to be so bloody sincere all the time? ]

[Alistair feels a little stung, not certain where this attitude is coming from. He stops walking, stubbornly planting his feet and matches Anders' sour expression.]

I'm just trying to be your friend, why are you throwing that back in my face?

Why be my friend?

[ He can't very well go on by himself, so Anders pulls up to a grudging, exasperated stop, as well. Great. This is going well. ]

If you want something from me, you can just be up front about it; no need for the prince charming act. Men have put less effort into getting me into bed.

[The cracks continue to deepen into Alistair's demeanor. He clenches his teeth and takes a defensive stance as if expecting the words to be accompanied with something physical.]

I'm not trying to get you into bed! All I wanted was to finish a mission somewhat amicably.

[His voice rises, both out of anger and a little bit of fear at allowing this side of himself to slip.]

We're very different people but we have enough in common that I thought it could work. I don't generally have friends but if this is the way it's going to be then I don't think I want to. Let's just go back and forget it.

[ Anders answers his increasing outrage with a smile, distinctly less taunting than before (if still not without an edge). ]

Honesty! How refreshing. Maybe there is hope for you, yet.

[ Okay, that's a tad hypocritical. But when you spend so much of your life in the Circle, you just grow to expect the worst of everyone. So investing in a bit of hypocrisy to draw out something genuine feels fair enough.

Anders shrugs, patting the lump of Ser Pounce huddled in his coat again as the cat starts to stir. ]

I only wanted the truth. Now that I know, I suppose we can be friends. At least for long enough to finish this dreadful mission.

No.

[Though Alistair frowns, it's a struggle to keep one side of his mouth from twitching upward when he sees the lump that is Ser Pounce.]

You think after all of your fuss that I'm just going to continue smiling and happily link arms to be your best chum? Find yourself someone else who is willing to go into the Deep Roads.

Ah, you misunderstand me. All that skipping and hand-holding is exactly the thing that puts me off about you.

[ Anders shrugs, further disturbing his cat - an orange ear and one bright eye now peeking out through the half-buttoned front of Anders' uniform. ]

...Well, that and the fact that you seem to think I'm milling about in this terrible place by choice. You want to go back to the Commander and explain why we're days early and empty-handed, I'm game. But we're agreeing it was your idea.

I don't skip. And I don't think you're here by choice either. I know there's a job to do.

[Okay, it's really difficult to maintain eye contact now.]

But if it's so terrible I do have to ask... why did you bring a cat along? I thought you just wanted to show off your chest to the darkspawn.

Ser Pounce-a-Lot goes everywhere I go. Especially when the alternative is being left behind in a drafty keep with the likes of Oghren lurking about. He'd shut my poor kitty out in the rain the first chance he got, you know.

[ Ser Pounce meows in apparent agreement (or maybe he's just responding to Anders scratching him behind the ears, as the cat pokes his head out of Anders' coat). ]

I can hardly help it if you can't keep your eyes to yourself.

[ It's only like the top tenth of his chest, anyway. Even less, with Pounce hanging out, his head tilted back as he purrs audibly. ]

I- that's not-

[Alistair wants to comment on the cat, on Oghren, on anything else but what Anders insisted on ending his comment with.]

You know very well I was making a joke.

[But now that Anders made the comment Alistair's instinct is to take a look at said chest. The more his inner voice tells him not to the harder it is to resist.

Don't do it, don't do it.

Aaaand there his eyes dart to take a peek.

Damn.]

[ And, of course, Anders is watching him with the shit-eating grin to end all shit-eating grins, whenever Alistair deigns to look back up. He's welcome to take his time, though. It's a fairly irresistible chest, in Anders' opinion. ]

Maybe we should move on?

[ Pounce tucks his fuzzy, orange head away again and Anders snaps another couple of clasps shut with almost absurd dexterity. ]

You're getting us all distracted from the mission.

You're the one who is doing the distracting!

[Wait, that didn't come out right. Ever more flustered, Alistair shakes his head and takes a step back.]

M-maybe you should lead for a while.

[ Though he knows full well that's true, Anders isn't planning on letting Alistair have even the illusion of contrition for it. He simply shrugs, still smirking, and steps ahead to take the lead. ]

Tire of the view from the front, did you? Well, I can assure you the back is just as magnificent. If not more so.

[ Boy, it sure would be nice to get attacked by some darkspawn right about now, wouldn't it??? ]

[The Darkspawn don't come, but that doesn't stop Alistair from whirling about to look at any noise as they walk. The torch is used to seek out anything to distract them or at the very least change the conversation.

What he does find is a glint of metal and Alistair turns off the main path to follow it. Alistair bends, picking up what he recognizes as a legendary dwarven-made helmet.]

Legion of the Dead. This kind of craftsmanship could be useful. Do we bring it back with us?

[Sure, loot was common enough, but not something like this. Then again, Alistair wasn't exactly sure what the protocol was for dwarves so revered in giving their lives to fight the Darkspawn.]

Edited 2019-12-26 21:00 (UTC)

No, look there—

[ With perhaps a very welcome measure of sobriety, Anders points over Alistair's shoulder, eyeing the spot where he picked the helmet from. There's a flat slab of stone just behind it, worn smooth, with a now unreadable inscription scraped into it. ]

It's a grave. Well, a sort of one, anyway, I think. Obviously there's nothing buried here, but given the Darkspawn, probably there wasn't anything left to bury...

Good eyes-

[Alistair abandons his place, approaching the grave with careful steps.]

Can you tell how long ago the grave was forged? Either by looking or... I don't know. [He waves a hand in the air to indicate any unseen presences.] Spirits?

[He feels both lost and foolish voicing his question out loud.]

[ The flat, disbelieving look Anders gives him isn't really going to make him feel any less foolish, unfortunately. ]

Well, the spirits don't know anything about the age of this gravestone, but they're shocked to see such an incredibly large child standing in front of me.

[ Is he twelve?? Anders wiggles his own fingers for effect, although it's a decidedly sarcastic effect. ]

I'm a spirit healer, not a messenger. Your guess is as good as mine.

You could have just said no.

[His first sentence remains quiet and even. As he continues to speak he allows himself to show the anger he feels and his voice rises.]

I don't know what your skills are, but I do know that you won't shut up about how mages are treated. And here I am, clearly open minded to solutions that involve magic and you do nothing but mock me for it repeatedly.

[Alistair is honored to be a Grey Warden and any other day would be dedicated to finishing a task. At least that was before he was paired with Anders.

He turns his back to leave the way they came, taking his supplies with him.]

I'm done. Have fun with the darkspawn for me.

[ Well, that's definitely the way to prove he's not being childish. Anders gives the grave a last look, curious as it is, before following reluctantly after his swiftly retreating would-be partner. ]

If that's your idea of being open-minded, I'm afraid to think what you'd consider the opposite.

[ His own voice pitches a bit sharper, continuing as if this argument hasn't been summarily shut down, already - but it's not like he knows another convenient route back to the surface, so they're walking together, anyway. ]

Just because I want respect for my magic doesn't mean I also want to be treated like the token mage all the time. I'm not just a staff and a skirt, you know. If you wanted my advice, you could ask for it without insinuating I'm nothing but some convenient magical conduit of weird, Fade-y nonsense.

I don't know what you're capable of, either, but I didn't assume it was swinging a sword and grunting loudly and nothing else.

I don't think of you as a token!

[He turns, incredulous.]

I just had a thought and I reasoned you'd know more than I do. I think you're smart, Anders. And talented. And funny when you're not being so mean about it.

[He sighs, looking to Anders for help, dropping his arms to his sides.]

But, Maker you're frustrating. And this assignment is frustrating. I'm sure you'll find all this toothachingly sincere but the truth is I'm at a loss.

[ Anders pulls up short, prepared for an argument but not for that helpless look. His glower twists into a frown, defused considerably as he casts about for a suitably pithy response and comes up with none.

Some things just - necessitate honesty, difficult as that is to reckon with, at the best of times. (And standing around in the dark and foreboding Deep Roads is not a best kind of time by far.) ]

Well... Maybe it's better that way. You don't want to be getting too chummy with the apostate, anyway. Nothing good happens to decent people who get too close to me.

[ Being a Warden, he'd thought, might have changed that - but lately it seems the templars are determined to dog him even here. The real ones, that is. ]

You don't deserve to get tangled up in my problems.

That's the thing. I don't think being your friend means getting tangled up in anything.

[He shuffles a little, suddenly very self aware, and kicks idly at a rock.]

I want to stand beside you, in whatever way that happens to be. It's awful to feel alone and I don't want that for you.

[There's a hurt in Alistair's eyes as his own words hit too close to home. He doesn't want Anders to push him away too.]

Well, you're about twenty years too late for that.

[ Because he can't let this go without trying to make light of it in some way. Not that there's a hint of amusement in his falsely jovial tone, nor a single glimmer of it in his expression.

Anders doesn't know what to do with that hurt look, as familiar as it feels. But maybe that's not such a bad thing, as it leaves him little other recourse but to sigh and revert to that irritating honesty.

It's a little more hesitant and earnest than he'd like, as he rocks back and forth on his heels in decisively for a moment, biting the inside of his lip, before he offers, ]

...Start over, then? Truce?

Truce.

[Alistair walks within arm's length of Anders, extending a hand to make it official.]

And I don't... want to be annoying. We can talk things out if you don't like something, I promise.

[ Anders' frown persists a moment longer, before he eventually accepts Alistair's hand. ]

Just don't get all touchy-feely on me again without any warning, all right? It makes me uncomfortable.

[ Having real emotions just lobbed at him, willy-nilly. Rude. ]

Nobody ever tries to cozy up to you in the Circle unless they want something.

[Alistair nods, giving the hand a single firm shake before withdrawing.]

I promise I won't.

[There's a slight scraping sound as Alistair scuffs at the ground with the tip of his boot.]

But. I'm generally kind of an open person. I can't stop my personality but I want to be respectful of yours. What counts as a warning?

Oh, I don't know. 'By the way, I rolled out of bed this morning feeling uncommonly generous and obnoxiously kind, and I'm probably going to get it all over you, incidentally' might work.

[ Anders shrugs, smiling thinly. It's a joke, but given his track record with those and Alistair, so far, he has reasons to be hesitant. ]

I'm not asking you to be someone else. That... wouldn't be fair. But if we're going to be getting lost in the Deep Roads together often, you can't take everything I say so personally. Or literally.

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lookin' for a sign of life

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lmao pretend i didn't mess up the html >_>

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