[Open]

[freedomscall]

What| Anders trying to adjust to a new environment.
Where| Around the capitol.
When| Now?
Warnings/Notes| None at the moment


Everything was too big. He should have felt relief: this city was larger than anything he had seen before. There was so much grandeur, all glittering and beautiful and so easy to focus on. A man like him could have been swept away, swept under the rug, swept up in everything and easily forgotten. He could hide in the crowd. With so many people, no one would notice just another man.

Anders, however, felt nothing but suffocated. Every glance caused him to flinch and bury himself deeper within himself. The knot in his stomach pulled tighter, and tighter with every turn he made and every person he passed.

He had no idea how long he had been walking, or even where he was anymore. A heavy sigh escaped him as he rubbed his forehead.

"Andraste's tits...What is going on?" . For a moment he let his situation consume him, let the whole Capitol consume him.

It was the sound of footsteps coming up behind him that snapped the mage out of his stupor.

Comments

[allyorfoe]

She'd been telling herself that she was probably mistaken, that she was probably just seeing things. But then again, old friends had a habit of showing up here, didn't they? So she trailed after him, trying to get a better look, if just to confirm it's just some random asshole--But how many random assholes shout about Andraste's assets? Hadn't that been what got Cullen's attention when she started screaming about it...?

He had stopped, at least, and she was close enough that he seemed to notice her. It had been...a long time since she'd seen the mage. She hadn't thought it a final farewell, when she left, only to came back to a pile of dead wardens, and no sign of him. She stared at him for a few moments--The years had not been kind to him, had they? And for a moment, she was torn between grabbing him, and giving him a good shake, because how fucking dare he just abandon the Wardens, without so much as a by-your-leave, or a note letting her know he wasn't dead in a ditch somewhere? And, of course, shoving some food down his throat.

What made her stop was the knowledge that there was a good chance he had no idea who she was. Too many Wardens, too many worlds, when one would have done the job better than any of those others. Still.

"Andraste's tits certainly aren't going on here. In fact, the Maker, Andraste, and everything else religious has taken a long holiday from this place," She drawled, a hand on her hip. "I'd say it was a relief, but somehow, this place is even worse than a Chantry." She doesn't include names, or anything. Not yet, at least. Try to get him comfortable before throwing out all of the various bullshit that he was now neckdeep in.

[freedomscall]

He could sense the taint running through her and his body went ridged. All he had wanted was to hide, he had done it well enough while in Kirkwall. The Warden's had failed to drag him back to Ferelden where he had been recruited, or to Weisshaupt where their headquarters lay. He had avoided them for years yet behind him was a woman, a Ferelden woman, with darkspawn taint pulsing through her.

It was quite possible he had the worst luck in all of Thedas. Hell, he would have bet on having the worst luck in all of the Capitol if his stay continued to have such chance meetings.

The mage turned, ready for anything. What he hadn't been prepared for was the lovely woman before him. The lovely elven woman. Catching himself staring Anders cleared his throat and forced a smile. “Worse than the Chantry? Please tell me you're joking. I'm not sure I could handle that, lady Warden”.

[allyorfoe]

She raised her eyebrows. No, he hadn't recognized her. Ah, well. Not her Anders. Which gave her two options--Play along like she had no idea who he was, and that she was just another Warden, or try to explain to him everything. She had yet to be forced to undertake this task for anyone, and she wasn't particularly looking forward to trying it with a man who had no idea who she was. Maybe she could locate someone he would recognize? Hawke, or...whoever. Certainly not Cullen.

Nooo, no. Not Cullen.

"I wish I were joking. The Chantry, for all it's faults...has yet to force me into a death match against anyone. Or kill me--at least, directly attempt to kill me, instead of attempting to kill me by reinforcing negative racial stereotypes that encourage aggression against my kind. Not counting my ancestors."

She pauses.

"Anyway. Welcome to the Capitol, Warden. It's good to meet a shieldbrother here." Perhaps it would be best to not let him know that she knew who he was. Put him at ease, for now. "I was surprised to sense another. But I'll do my best to aid another Warden--They told you of the Hunger Games, yes? Did they tell you what that entailed?"

[revocation]

There is something served in the coffee shops which litter nearly every corner of the city which Cullen has come to really enjoy - it's called 'chai', and he's taken to getting one nearly every day in a certain quiet spot not far from the Tribute Tower. It's a bit like tea, but sweeter, and very nice - soothing on his nerves, which tend to get rather jangly in the busy city streets, with flashing lights all around, and so on.

Of course, the very last thing he expects when he steps out onto the pavement is a familiar face - that familiar face. The sight brings him up short, and he nearly drops the paper cup in his hand. It's not simply that he didn't expect to see a known terrorist here, but also - Anders is dead. Or at least, that was his understanding in all the mess of Kirkwall. Hawke had summarily executed the man, at his own request.

Of course, by now, it shouldn't surprise him in the least to see someone he knows to be dead show up alive and well in the Capitol, but he still finds it incredibly unexpected.

"Andraste preserve me," he says, as much to himself as anything - an actual prayer, and not a curse. Andraste give me strength. This man - this man - is as liable to get them all killed as Quintus, or Jason Compson.

[freedomscall]

He would have known the Knight Captain's voice anywhere. He'd been dodging the man in one way or another for years, after all. Ander's heart clenched and sunk. Of all the people who could have found him, it had to be a Templar. It had to be that Templar.

Ander's nose wrinkled, disgust washing over his face as he turned to face Cullen.

“Well,” his voice dripped with disdain, “fancy seeing you here. Captain”

[revocation]

"It's Commander," Cullen snaps, immediately - an ingrained reaction to the old title - of course, all Anders would see is a Templar, his own personal boogeyman, despite the fact that Cullen hasn't been one in well over a year.

"I can say you're one of the last people I would've expected them to bring," he admits, still scowling as he shakes his head a little. He can't imagine anything but Anders opening his mouth and getting himself executed - that's just how dangerous this world is for dissenters. And Anders isn't just a dissenter - he's a bloody terrorist.

"Not that I think you'll listen to anything I say, but I suggest you keep your head down if you want to keep it on your shoulders," he finishes, already preparing to head back in the direction of the Tribute Centre. He doubts there will be much worth talking about with the man.

[uncalled_for]

Fiona's footsteps halted before the man. For most, she would keep walking. She was far more content wandering the streets aimlessly than speaking to anyone upon them. But the man seemed lost, if not exhausted. It was enough to give her pause and a small amount of concern tucked under her Orlesian accented words.

"Is everything all right?"

[freedomscall]

Brown eyes peered up at the woman. At the elven woman, with the Orleasian accent. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. At last he had found something familiar in this place, even if he had no idea who the woman before he was.

“I- uh”, the mage rubbed his hands together, looking around nervously. “I don't really know. This place is...”

Anders cleared his throat. “I'm finding it hard to adjust, I think”.

[uncalled_for]

"Could anyone find it easy to adjust?" She said with a dubious look.

Well, at the very least this man wasn't injured or too worse for wear. He seemed just overwhelmed which was truly understandable given the circumstances. Fiona herself had spent her entire first outing with her eyes glued to the ground to avoid that very same problem. Beyond bumping into several others it wasn't the worst strategy, yet clearly not one useful to others.

"You've only recently been dragged here, I assume?"

[needlebearer]

Arya doesn't leave the training centre very much, disliking the celebrity status that came with being part of the Hunger Games, especially as someone who'd been used to keeping herself anonymous for so long, and disliking the brightness and artificiality of the Capitol even more. But ever since Joel showed her the wonder of cheeseburgers, she's been going out from time to time, finding that the ones the Avoxes made up for her didn't measure up to the ones from the burger joint he'd taken her to. She's walking quickly, hands tucked in her pockets and head down to avoid the flashes and screens that gave her such a headache, not particularly paying attention to where she's going, on a direct collision course with Anders unless he notices the girl behind him.

[freedomscall]

“Careful!” the man exclaimed, stepping back to avoid the girl plowing her way through the city. “If you keep on like that you're going to get yourself hurt!”

[needlebearer]

Arya skids to a halt as he addresses her, blinking up at him. "I won't get hurt," she reassures him, a little cockily. After all she'd gone through both in her own world and the Arena, she doesn't think anything out here will cause her too much harm.

[dead_black_eyes]

Linden's healing well enough; the bruises around his eye and in finger-shaped swatches on his neck have peaked and are beginning to fade, and his vision has returned to normal. He figures that by this point, he should be used to seeing new Tributes wandering aimlessly around the Capitol; they're always obvious, after all, and even when the swelling was at its worst and he was seeing double and blurred, he could pick out their uncertain gaits and tendency to stop and stare at their surroundings.

Poor wretches.

The man who addresses Anders sticks out, a pale, scrawny and drab creature in a sea of decadence. "You know, even locals get lost in this part of town. You should probably stick to the Tribute Tower until you have your bearings about you."

[freedomscall]

Anders felt his skin prick at the man's words. His mind went back to the Carta, to the thugs who used to knock on his door in Darktown. Men would tell him how he should be careful in the city alone, how people like Anders could just go missing in the dark if they weren't careful.

The mage gritted his teeth. Keep your head, Anders. You don't need to make a scene. Maybe it's harmless. Just smile.

Smile he did, though it was strained. “The tribute tower makes me feel like I'm on display. I'd rather find myself lost”.

[dead_black_eyes]

At the very least, Anders pretty clearly has nothing much to fear from Linden. He appears brittle and frail, to the point where a stiff wind could probably knock him over, and his face is pale and sunken in places as if he's been very ill and hungry for a long time. Whether or not that puts the mage from a different world at ease or more on-edge is ultimately his call.

He laughs, a wavery, unpracticed sound at the man's description. "I know exactly what you mean, but there are better places to get lost. You're practically in the red light district."

[contrarianlibrarian]

This woman blended rather well into the gaudy crowds of Capitol natives. Her clothes may not have been as wildly colored and styled as some of the other outfits in the crowd, but her sheer sleeves revealed a wild tangle of colorful tattoos beneath.

"Such language."

She smiled warmly. "Are you lost, by any chance?"

She was supposed to have a new one, wasn't she? She looked him over, eyes moving from head to toes openly, wondering if he was that new Tribute.

[freedomscall]

“I uh-” Anders stuttered, glancing around the alley way. He hadn't expected anyone else to have been around. This city was so big compared to Kirkwall. People seemed to team out of every space.

The man looked her up and down. The tattoos caught his eye. They were more intricate than he had seen before, brighter and more vibrant than those in his world. For a moment he was perplexed by them, by the world he had been dragged to.

Realizing he was staring at the woman Anders' eyes shot back up to her face and a small spot of pink dotted his cheeks. “Sorry. Uhm. Maybe a little. This city is...much grander than anything I am used to.”

[andrastian]

Sebastian hadn't said a word up until now. He'd noted the figure, hoped that he might be wrong, and trailed him for a while, but there was no mistaking him now, with an oath like that.

"I don't believe our lady is in the habit of flashing those around."

He said, the levity of his words betrayed by the cold fury in his chest. He had invaded Kirkwall to find this man, to see him brought to, ironic phrasing, really, justice. Now that he was faced with Anders, though, the feeling was quite different. Sebastian may well throw up, he thought, but kept his gaze quite steady as he looked upon the mage.

"They tell me we've been brought here from different points in time or worlds. Tell me. Had you murdered Elthina yet, when you arrived?"

[freedomscall]

Sebastian. He knew the voice without needing to see the man. He could smell the unbridled devotion.

He could hear the man's voice loud and clear, encouraging his friends to kill him. Hell, at the time part of him had wanted Hawke to listen. It wasn't Sebastian's want of his life that made his skin crawl, that made his heart clench, that was turning his stomach into a rock.

It was his unbridled devotion to the Chantry, to a religion that wanted to eradicate those like Anders simply for being alive.

The question hung in the air as Anders turned to face a man that had once been a companion. Had he murdered Elthina?

“Yes” he said quietly, licking his lips and forcing himself to meet Sebastian's eyes.

[unlikelyherald]

Even with their connection to the Fade being broken in this place, there's a certain way that all mages carry themselves. Adella grew up in the Circle, had spent time after it fell on the move, she knew how to spot a friendly face or an unfriendly one.

When she saw the man leaving the Tribute Center however, she wasn't sure which he was. Something about him made her follow him, until he stopped and cursed. Then she was sure. She put on a friendly, passive smile as he seemed to clue into her presence, and held up her hand as much as a gesture of greeting as anything.

"You likely won't find any answers from her or her tits. Would you settle for her Herald?"

[freedomscall]

Anders cocked his head to the side. “Her- what?”

The mage looked Adella over. He did not recognize her, though her eyes struck him. Looking at them he could almost feel the Spirit within stir. There was something in them, and in the way she held herself, that made him feel at ease.

The man raised an eyebrow at the woman. “Herald of Andraste? You Free Marchers need new ways to curb your imagination.”

[earthborn]

"Well, that's a long story."

Shepard liked this particular coffee shop for a few reasons. The first was that it served damn fine drinks, and at a discount. The discount was suspicious, if she were honest, but only insofar as that the manager seemed to be a fan, so she had let it go.

The other reason was that, thanks to some geographic trick of the street layout, newbies that came wandering away from the tribute's tower often ended up here. She'd been sitting almost exactly here, looking out at the same street-corner Anders was currently occupying, when more than once a confused and angry face had bumbled by. So, she had gone to take a shot at it, as she often did.

Shepard offered him the drink, sipping from her own. It was hot, and it had whipped cream to match the cloud of chocolate-scented steam.

"New guy, right? I'm Shepard. Here, come sit with me, we'll get you squared away."

[freedomscall]

Anders looked at the drink, confusion clear on his face, yet he found himself taking it. The man probed the whipped cream with a finger, shaking the sticky mess off. Still, the smell of whatever was in the cup was intriguing.

“What is this place?” he asked, following Sheaprd to a seat. The smell of coffee and syrups and scents he had never experienced flooded his nose and he coughed as he inhaled it.

This place would take some more getting used to.

[wardenings]

"Well, well, well, another one bites the darkspawn." It was in fact Alistair who had come around the corner, lips pursed into a thin line and arms crossed over his chest.

"By your robes, you're from Thedas. And by the smell coming off of you... you've been Tainted." Alistair nods, shaking his head. "Another Warden. There are too many of us here than I'd like to admit."

His arms fall from his chest, one resting at his side, the other extended to the apostate mage in a chuckle-- knowing, calm. Something he wish he could have had upon his induction into this Maker-forsaken world.

"Alistair, of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden. And calm down, man, you look like you're about to strangle a small child. Relax. I'm not going to say you're safe, because," The Warden allows himself a bit of a scoff-chuckle mix, a smirk playing on his lips. "Well, you're not. But you're safer than normal here. There's a small group of us from Thedas. But they're always watching. What's your name?"

[freedomscall]

Anders knew of Alistair. Hell, who in Thedas didn't these days? He was a legend among the Wardens, and a legend in the stories.

Anders took the man's hand in a shake. “I'm-” the Warden didn't recognize the mage's face, and briefly Anders considered lying about who he was. The Wardens, however, had to remain impartial. Besides, what good was it for him to hide now? “I'm Anders. You're- I've heard so much about you”

The mage paused, frowning. “Well- one of you any ways, I suppose? This world isn't making a lot of sense to me yet.”