makinglies | Duplicity AU: Justice for a General

Morgan was not, actually, naive. What he was, was someone from a reality where transfer portals were a thing, and who's most missed person was someone who was capable of creating one of those (portals) with help. That meant it was entirely possible that what he thought he was seeing, was actually what he was seeing.

It wasn't of course.

He had no memory of what led to his state, he just knew that he was incredibly turned on, for no apparent reason. He should have returned to the apartment and locked himself in there, but he was just stubborn enough that instead he tried to go about his day.

Very quickly of returning to the apartment and locking the door was no longer an option. Between the effects themselves building and his shields collapsing under the onslaught of Duplicity (and heightened by the number of other people in the same state)....

He had a lot of sex that he didn't actually want to want.

He was incredibly sore, everywhere, with more than a few bites and scratches by the time he finally made it home. His hair and clothes were a mess. He reeked of sex - and specifically come.

He was also beyond exhausted - he'd been pushing his endurance with magic before any of this happened. He managed to get the door closed and locked behind him, but he could not make it further than the couch before he collapsed.

He passed out there, more unconscious than asleep.

Edited 2020-10-01 04:38 (UTC)

This day had been horrific. The air sparked and tingled on his skin like when they'd been in Blackmarsh and the fade had split in little slivers of wrong that sent ripples through his mana and Justice's being. It was like that but less, a small prickle of wrong that left his head buzzing with Justice's agitation and his chest tight with his own anxiety for it.

On top of that were the victims, poor souls who were likely caught by this spell or effect or whatever it was and harmed by it. The urge to run out make it right had constantly been at odds with his need to heal and put right as people came in with bites or exhaustion.

Now he was exhausted and wished only to try and pass out and ignore the feeling prickling his awareness. If he even could. At the same time, he felt that thrum and the very thought of laying down produced a new one 'how can you rest when there are people suffering who may need your help? It's your duty to provide them aid-'

He'd told Hawke that Justice's thoughts were his own, that he could hardly tell where one started and the other ended...but sometimes...

He opened the door to the apartment and rested his head to the cool material for a moment once it was closed again. Only a moment, then that drive to keep going had him turning with only the intention of changing so his work outfit didn't suffer whatever trouble he found.

Alaric's form on the couch caught his step and made his thoughts scatter. A careful approach to try and keep quiet and the sight and smell of him caught up and twisted his stomach. That wasn't right, wasn't normal, and all he could think of were so many patients. Not him too.

There was a moment, one hesitating second where his hand hovered over Alaric's shoulder as Anders quite literally fought with his own thoughts. Alaric had suffered under this thing, that wasn't acceptable and it made him want to hunt it all the more, something he could feel a push for, like he should turn and leave now. Find this. Deal with it. Personal matters another time, Alaric was only one of many.

Yet he wasn't only one of many, he was a very particular 'one' and he could feel disappointment resonate in himself and small churn of his stomach in response. He hovered...and waited...and pushed past it to place his hand instead at the back of the younger man's head to pet through his hair and push a bit of healing mana into his being for the exhaustion he was clearly suffering. Alaric first, then he would find what was responsible.

Alaric was very rarely insentient enough to not rouse when he felt anything near as... unique as Anders near him. Unique being the nicer word for what amounted to anger and white noise that prevented him being aware of sensing anything deeper.

This was one of those rare times.

He didn't even begin to wake up until he was touched, but once he was he began to fight his way awake. The mana helped, and it was, furthermore, familiar.

He got his eyes open, blinked a few times and did not move away from the petting hand. "You look terrible." Anders didn't really. Anders looked mostly like he always looked, but that wasn't really the point. "And I have destroyed your couch."

Currently more unfiltered for many reasons and, after a moment, gathering his motivation toward sitting up and losing contact that was much more welcome than usual.

"Really? I suppose you've avoided any mirrors, then." It was gentle, as much as it wasn't and it was accompanied by a look of unimpressed disbelief. "I'm not fond of the couch, anyway." He was fond of the man on it, though he didn't dare say it.

He crouched before him, his gaze searching Alaric's face for some other sign of discomfort or residual magical trace or anything Anders could pick out. There was something...so faint, almost a whisper caught in the wind of some energy that wasn't Alaric. The same foul touch that he'd seen on many. "You look and feel and...smell like many of my patients today. They said they couldn't remember what happened. Should I assume that goes the same for you?"

He braced a hand on the sofa and pushes himself up to sit, and even managed not to wince when he did it. "How unfortunate for the couch." Meaning, not so much, that anyone Anders was fond of was lucky (though there was that), but that Alaric might burn the couch once he got up from it.

He reached out and brushed his fingers over Anders' hand, just for the barest moment. "I remember what happened. I don't remember why it happened." It was a strange line and he knew it, but it was important because he was not going to forget today for a very, very long time - if ever. "I was in the City long enough to see how many other people were affected. I imagine Haven was a madhouse."

Edited (fixing my tense, sorry.) 2020-10-01 06:57 (UTC)

Anders might set the fire himself for how uncomfortable Alaric looked on it, or at least crush the thing to splinters to make kindling easier in the fireplace. That was a thought.

He felt a small shiver at the touch, felt the near-overwhelming urge to reach back...and didn't as that disapproval at such selfish thoughts caught his hand. He compromised instead, and placed his hand beside Alaric's knee so his thumb might 'accidentally' brush by. Instead, he focused on the words.

"It was...there are plenty who came in with bite marks or exhaustion, those that would talk to us mentioned it was sexual...did you...?" Of course he did, every sign was there and now Anders' hand did move to Alaric's knee as fear and concern surged up in him that acted as kindling for the sheer fury the line of thought brought up in him.

"They all said it was as consensual as it could be, considering their mindset...please...was that the case for you?" Even as he spoke, the amber of his eyes brightened to blue in a snap of Justice's anger mixing and stoking Anders' own, personal, brand. If any of Alaric's 'partners' had simply taken advantage, that may well be Anders' first stop before locating the source of this. Justice could hold in vengeance's wake and that thought alone kept the sick from settling in his stomach. Anger was far more useful than fear or worry.

He was not the most demonstrative of people, but he was becoming more so with Anders. Some of it was familiarity and affection, some was that it was simply practical.

Meaning that it often seemed like Anders wanted the contact but would not reach for it, and since Alaric also wanted it - he just did.

This time his motive was more complicated, but he put his hand over Anders', his fingers looped around Anders' wrist with just enough pressure to feel the healer's pulse.

"No one took advantage of me, except whatever is going on in the City and was also taking advantage of them. Can you help me?" Manipulative? Yes. Guilty for being so? Not at all. "Please." Really manipulative, actually, but if it was effective he was fine with it.

That change in Anders' eyes (and in Anders)....

His heart stuttered for the contact, but there was comfort in it as well, that tactile need in him that ached and often went unanswered because it wasn't important, satiated for now.

The rest was a smoother balm to his soul than he was expecting, though it only quieted part of the fury...the rest...the rest was not his own, though he agreed enough that it was. He had half an idea of ensuring Alaric was comfortable before storming off before any more of Justice could reveal itself...but that voice and that please...

Distraction.

"I...I really should-" Go. He is only one, what if there is another who is not so lucky? How many others are suffering right now? He stood, but didn't let go of Alaric's hand, he wasn't sure he knew how in that moment. Instead, he took a steadying breath, the blue breaking from his eye to draw a small crack in the skin next to it before it zipped like lightning down his jaw and faded. This boy takes too much of your time.

He pressed the thought down, practiced now, after so many years of putting his work aside to follow Hawke on her misadventures to ensure his friend returned home safe and not bleeding on his doorstep, fool that she was. Now it was Alaric taking his attention and in such a similar way that was oh-so dangerous. "Of course. Whatever you need is yours." He offered a smile and tugged on their hold to pull the other man up.

He watched Anders fight with himself, with a steady gaze that wasn't too aware or calculating but stayed quietly... anticipatory?

He let himself be relieved, and to show that relief just a bit, when Anders finally said that he would stay, and said of course like there had never been any doubt. He couldn't be sure that there hadn't been, but there had been that 'I should', and there was standing and-

He was relieved, but not so much for his own sake just then.

He did rely on Anders' hand in standing, though. He couldn't banish his own fatigue anymore - that was why he collapsed to begin with - and he was incredibly sore after having rested. Standing up was effort and uncomfortable and his hand tightened a bit more to make sure the contact between them wasn't broken.

Letting that reliance show... that was a decision.

"Bath, clean clothing, food?" That was a lot but if he could keep Anders relatively still for a while - maybe. Maybe. If nothing else he wouldn't be getting into trouble out there.

Pulling Alaric up was easy and it was easier to wrap an arm around his waist for support, like he hadn't just wrested control from his overly-determined friend. He'd quieted his spirt for now, this would be enough to take his focus.

Justice didn't need friends or attachments, he needed purpose cause. In Thedas, it had been the cause of mages, the suffering, abuse, and tyranny over a people for their gifts and the complacency of society for that pain. That goal had seen it's end, vengeance and justice attained and the rebellion started...then there was nothing as Hawke left him alone on the road with his life and no goal. Then he was here and the cause was clear: the cause of submissives and the same suffering they endured. Justice had latched on and not let go, he had his purpose. Anders needed more, ashamed as he was of that. He needed connection and a face for the cause...which was Alaric. Most of Anders' friend here were also dominants, but Alaric kept his focus, made the cause smaller and personal. His friend deserved better.

Right now, he deserved care and attention. "Yes, yes, and yes." He lead them into Alaric's room and only parted with the intention of leaving him to undress while Anders drew a bath, instead he found himself caught for a moment while he reached up to stroke back some of his hair. "Shall I draw the bath, or..?" He didn't want to seem like he was pressing his advantage by offering to help Alaric undress, even with his intentions pure, but he seemed worn down and like the fumbling of tired fingers might make the task more difficult.

He does not sit down. If he does, he will both have to stand up again and feel like he has transferred his... grossness to the bed. That is psychological, almost entirely - his clothes are bad, but not that bad - but it is still a factor.

More importantly, he does not want to lose Anders.

Not even metaphorically. Not right now. Not tonight. Not with what's going on outside these walls.

He stands there, meets Anders eyes steadily and simply repeats: "Help me." A pause. "Please help me with this." Could he do it? Not very well, but he could. This? This is more about keeping Anders here.

It was permission enough for him and he focused on that, the careful task of helping his friend out of his clothes, leaving them to their fate on the floor to be tended to later. His mind quieted with the task, Justice still a low thrum over his being, a mantle on his shoulders, but Anders himself felt more calm for it. The anger was hot in him, a pool of magma that threatened to spit and burn, but this was a cool breeze to his face as much as he hated the need for it, the reason behind it. If he thought of it as simply Alaric's needs being tended to and not of the source as some foreign, malicious, magic leaving it's touch and then other's touch on someone he cared for, he could breathe and be here. Alaric needed him here. It kept his thoughts from burning him and the shame of...all of it from choking.

Anders didn't hesitate this time as he took the other man's hand and lead him into the bathroom to draw the bath. Showers were still strange to him, though he saw their worth, this was familiar and the fact the water came in hot was convenient, though he intended to ensure the temperature held that way no matter how long Alaric needed to stay. As the tub filled, Anders wrapped his arm around him to keep him pressed to his side.

For support was the lie he was willing to tell himself.

The lie that Alaric was telling himself, was that he accepted the help in undressing, entirely and only as a means of manipulation in getting Anders to stay put for a while. To stay safe, and maybe even to find a little rest - even if it wouldn't be peace.
Those were also true but Alaric was benefitting too. In having the help, in having Anders close.

He didn't stay pressed against Anders side long, once they were in the bathroom, but instead pivoted just a little around so he had more of his body pressed into Anders, almost hiding against him a little. He also shivered, albeit only a very little.

"I want you in the bath with me."

That wasn't a lie. He did want it. Still manipulating.

He tried desperately not to think about the fit of them and how his arm around Alaric tightened as he pressed in. Instead he focused on the shiver, small but noticeable with how close they where. He brought one hand in the place near the middle of his spine and the other pressed to the back of Alaric's neck, both slowly heating with a bit of his fire magic while his eyes stayed on the water level.

At least until Alaric said that. Anders looked over to him, his expression a mix of uncertainty and surprise. When was the last time he had even bathed with someone? The wardens, maybe, and that hardly seemed to count. Yet, it was sort of the same...companionship, a bath drawn late at night, pressed close not for traditional intimacy, but for comfort because nightmares had chased them both from their beds, so much worse for being so close to a Blight. Even Justice felt a little more calm for the familiar thought.

He regained himself and his expression softened as he pulled one hand away from it's previous job to turn off the water. "Alright. Go ahead and get in, dunk your head, you'll feel better. I'll be right behind you."

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The People Zoo

Re: The People Zoo

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