thecapitol | [Open]

Entry tags:

[Open]

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.

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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.

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.

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?"

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.

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”

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”.

"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?"

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."

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”.

Anders chucked nervously, rubbing his temple and letting a small smile cross his lips. “Well, no. I suppose it must be...overwhelming for everyone. I arrived a few days ago. I can't...seem to wrap my head around this place. It seems like the Fade has-”

The man stopped short and cleared his throat. “Ah, you're accent sounds very familiar” he changed the topic. “Are you from Orlais by any chance?”

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”.

“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!”

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."

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.

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?"

"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.

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.

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?"

Edited 2015-05-12 00:10 (UTC)

Anders' mouth twitched a little. “They did no give me many details about these Games, no.” he said, voice straining to remain calm.

He didn't trust her. Since leaving Ferelden he had been dodging Wardens left and right. He was fairly certain there were fliers with his face and name all over the Warden keeps pegging him as run away. What happened in Kirkwall wouldn't have won him any friends or favors,either- Not that the Wardens got involved in politics.

Anders' looked her up and down one more time. Under the delicate figure and beautiful face there was clearly a fighter. She was not green to the line of duty and battle he would guess. If that were the case then why was she not giving him a speech about his pledge as a warden, about the Blight and Darkspawn and world saving they were all bound to?

“...your accent is Fereldan.” for a moment his heart tightened. If she was Ferelden then maybe she knew Solana. Maybe... “Did you spent any time in Amaranthine?”

The mage's jaw clenched. Commander? Commander of what? Was this part of a joke? Maybe this wasn't his Cullen, though he saw no difference in the man yet. All duty and pretentiousness, strutting around like only he could see the truth of the world. Anders had a knot in his stomach every time he looked at the man. He knew about what happened in the Ferelden circle. He knew how Cullen had wanted them all dead. While he may not have been as extreme as his Knight Commander, Anders could not trust a Templar.

“Oh thank you so much for your advice, Commander.” the mage shot back, his temper getting the best of him. “Though I am sure you wouldn't shed any tears if this new world killed off yet another mage. You'd feel right at home, wouldn't you? It is so very much like the Chantry after all, not giving a damn who they slaughter.”

“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.”

Anders blinked, taken aback by the little girl. “You're quite confident”. She'd clearly been through something. He could see a darkness behind her eyes. A sadness, maybe.

His eyes glanced at her food. It smelled quite unlike anything he had experienced before. This world was filled with all sorts of strange things.

“What is that?” he asked, pointing at the foodstuff.

“In the- really?” Anders frowned, looking around himself. Well, he thought, this certainly looks nothing like the Pearl or the Blooming Rose. “...I didn't expect the world of paid sex to look so...”

Anders' rubbed his temple, clearing his throat. “If this is such a bad place to find ones self, what are you doing out here?”

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.

Shit. One of these days, she was going to learn how to speak with an Orlesian accent. It couldn't be that hard to sound like a total ponce. What eez teez Ferelden ewe talk aboot?

But there was no dodging around it--She was a Ferelden Warden, that much was obvious. Still, she wasn't ready to panic the man quite yet. And she had one thing on her side--That she was some kind of alternate Warden that replaced his own was probably not one of the conclusions he would quickly draw to. It'd been hard for her to believe--Even know, it was tricky.

"Yes. I hail from Vigil's Keep." She paused, then raised her hands up. There was little point in trying to pretend anyone from there hadn't heard of him. "But please--Don't be afraid, Warden Anders. This isn't the place to squabble over the petty arguments of our world. I'm not going to read you the riot act, not right now. What's more important is that you know about our situation, if you're willing to hear it from me." She paused. "If not, I guess I can find someone who's not a Warden to explain."

It was hard, to pretend. To pretend that she wasn't mad. That she didn't feel anger at his leaving. No note, no letter, no knowing if he was alive for years. She wanted to grab him and give him a good shake, because even if he wasn't hers, he still did it, didn't he? But what good would that do. Scare him senseless, probably.

And he had enough to be scared of here.

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