"I'm sure you're right," he says, with that same tired inevitability of earlier. In truth he just doesn't want this interaction tainted. Just taking this singular interaction for what it is, as it is, with less complication than it might have.
He also doesn't quite know how to answer the question, anyway. His education's been effective but somewhat strange.
He makes his way over toward one of the trellises, looking past the fence a bit, before refocusing and tracing one of the trailing vines, carefully. "You, meanwhile, are obviously a healer." This is not a sign of intelligence. Only healers go there, right?
Anders smiles to himself as he prunes a bit around the base of a couple of the plants, then reaches for a jar tucked away under the table to sprinkle some of the solution he'd prepared yesterday over them. This crop would not fail to the parasites that had somehow found them, not if he had anything to say about it. Besides, they'd be needed soon, they had to be as healthy as possible.
"I'm afraid you've caught me green-handed." He hadn't been especially stealthy, but he could keep the nature of his healing under wraps for now. It was always the same as soon as anyone knew...people didn't always look at Wynne like that, but Anders was an Aplha, who knew how much more 'dangerous' he could be. Easier to just let it be.
"You have to understand, once anyone knows you're a healer it's all 'do this do that, Anders I have a papercut, Anders I banged my shin, Anders my stomach aches, please can't you help me' and there's never any rest again." He finishes his work and tucks the jar back away to turn and face Alaric with that smirk back in place. "But, as I said, secrets die young here, you were bound to find out eventually. Had I not needed to tend to your future salvation here, we might have even gone a day on even ground. Oh well. Welcome to the gardens, I'm sure I could arrange to bring you up here if you ever wanted, though there's plenty of others who have access, as I said, you might find yourself getting along better with them, as endlessly charming as I'm sure you've found me."
He nods to the space at large. "It's mostly communal, though everyone has their own project and specialty here, then the plants are harvested, prepared, and brought down to the projects room to be turned into potions, poultices, toxins, or whatever else might be needed." He pointed to a corner of the garden that seemed to be growing fruits and vegetables. "Oh, except those. That's just food."
That was an awful lot of words and he was pretty sure most of them were not particularly relevant or important.
That sharp edged humor as cover again, maybe, woven through some actually important things.
He slides a strand of his blonde hair behind his ear and tucks it there to stay secure, frowning again. "...Why would you being a healer result in us being on uneven ground?" Especially in light of other things.
Also food is interesting and he's heard about it and the nature of the space but also he does not currently care about that.
Of everything he said, that was the part he had to clue in on. Alaric Morgan was not a noble to be wowed and distracted, he was sharp and perceptive and clearly more than a match even after only a few hours if the allure of newness didn't turn his head. Anders would have to keep an eye on him.
There is one, very self-destructive moment where he thinks about telling him how exactly uneven their ground is in his mind, to tell him about being a Spirit Healer and all the societal baggage that came with it. Extra danger, extra risk, constantly flirting with forces every mage is taught to steer clear of and be wary. No one wants to interact with a mage who risks possession every day, especially an Alpha, already seen as both potentially aggressive and holding power, how much worse was it to know that could be twisted into something a hundred times worse as an abomination?
The moment passes and he simply shrugs, arms out like it's a simple answer, really. "Magic is meant to serve man, not rule over him. What better service to man but those who can work the Maker's grace into healing salvation? Where most bend the natural elements and work to defend or enhance or study, healers serve even their fellow mages, not only man, the ground is proverbially uneven. I am bound to serve, you or anyone else, I am a healer before I am anything else." Half of it was said with the sort of overblown air of someone reciting someone else's words, but the other half was bare and earnest, though with far less resentment than the words themselves might imply. It was complicated, but enough for now, and only a partial lie for what he omit rather than what was said.
There is something in the combination of the self-loathing and... almost arrogance that is very, very confusing for him and that expression is once more stamped on his face, albeit fairly subtly.
It is also clear in his pause before reply, and the way his fingers on the plant he was touching still.
"I don't think that's quite how that works," is all he says, still looking... well, completely and utterly baffled, completely still save the wind toying with the occasional strand of his hair.
"No?" He holds Alaric's gaze a moment, amber eyes steadfastly taking in every ounce of that confusion. It was fine, better he didn't. Maybe he'd never understand and this would be filed away as 'that one really odd conversation I had with the crazy Alpha healer' and it would never matter again.
All at once, his expression melted to an easy smile and he gave a wave of his hand as though brushing aside the entire thing. "Well, then I must be wrong, forget it entirely."
He laughs, a startled thing at first, but then genuine and he crosses his arms over his chest.
"How do you know I'm not? Lucky for you, you're endlessly charming, I'm sure you'll do fine. Is there anywhere else you'd like to go or anything else you'd like to do before the old codger calls on you?"
He leads them back out of the garden and down the colorful hall back to the lower floors. As they crossed passed the floor with the wards, Anders tossed a curious look over to Alaric. "This might be too personal, but you responded to my answer about the cycles with disdain earlier. I'm curious what it is you're used to, what you were expecting."
"As you said about secrets - there's very little I would consider too personal, here."
There's no hesitation in his steps, he simply carries on. He does however briefly break eye-contact, to try to find words. Not answers, he has those, just the words.
Then he realizes there isn't really any dressing it up and he wouldn't if he could. It's brutal in its own way but it's the sort of thing he is used to. Familiar. "Being left alone." It really is that simple.
"Really?" They weren't crammed together when it happened, but there were usually two or three omegas to a room, depending on how many of them hit their heat at the same time and if there were hands to spare. Alphas were kept two to a room and at opposite ends, too much instinct and too much aggression, depending. Either way, even if the odd circumstance where someone ended up alone, there was always a templar to be found, Betas with ant-magic abilities to break or sooth depending on the guard.
If it was really bad, he or Wynne might be called in with a specific person or a full room depending on the definition of 'bad' and it was miserable for all involved. Another aspect of serving, but he couldn't imagine being left to suffer entirely alone.
"I cannot speak from experience," he says, sounding just a little grumpy about it, "but I cannot see a single way company would have actually been preferable."
A pause, and amendment, "Excluding several days when anyone with a dick would have been fine, but incredibly awkward and uncomfortable shortly after."
Then he softens and shrugs, slightly. "It is physically miserable, there is little to nothing I could realistically do about it." In hiding, remember? "Curling up behind walls and waiting it out if nothing else saved my dignity."
He shook his head as they finally got back to floor with the library. "Well, those plants I was tending earlier are meant for a potion that is supposed to help symptoms for the cycles, though it's largely experimental right now and some batches are stronger than others." Plus, sometimes there wasn't enough if a mated pair without their other half needed it, more was siphoned off to try and make them comfortable, but no one aside from the healers knew that one, it would make the placebo they had to replace it with less effective.
Their path led them past a set of templars stationed at the stairs, then another stationed at Irving's closed door and Anders stepped a bit closer to lower his voice, tone pointed and eyes on the next templar stationed thirty or so feet away. "In the meantime...welcome to a life of never being alone again, Ser Morgan."
He looks very slightly pained, but nods and manages another smile, albeit this one strained. "Thank you for your help. I look forward to seeing you again."
That is all true at least, though he is not looking forward to discussions.
Dinner is about what Anders would call ordered chaos, even Breakfast was easier. There was a group breakfast, but there were options for those who rose early either due to duties, worship needs, or preference. Dinner was simply everyone all at once.
Gregoir and Irving, for all their flaws, ran a tight ship as far as process was concerned, however, and it was hardly a zoo, but even lowered voices for conversations at the various mage tables and templar tables could create a din.
For his part, Anders was faced with the same dilemma he'd been faced with for the last year and a half: where to sit. A simple problem, really, and it wasn't that there weren't options, he just had to pick his preference of downside.
He could sit with Wynne and a few of her peers who either kept quite and dull conversation or none at all and potentially suffer his previous-mentor's disapproving or judgmental remarks. He could sit with a couple of the Apprentices that had recent undergone their Harrowing and suddenly feel ancient or be bombarded with questions, depending on the flavor of the night, or he could sit with his old friends. The ones that knew what number of theirs was missing and had been and still they looked at him with such pity in their eyes, though he knew some of them were beginning to think 'hasn't it been long enough?' and that was worse.
He was contemplating the table full of only Alphas when he caught sight of Alaric instead. He could start there at least, maybe make sure his temporary charge settled in somewhere.
Alaric had paid absolutely no attention to where he sat, only that he sat. He was sitting with a fork in his hand and plate in front of him.
He was also sitting with his other elbow on the table, head propped in his hand, and his head tilted deliberately, so as to direct his hair to fall over his face. He was not complaining about... anything, but the number of people and noise level were creating issues - or one issue made worse by the other.
He is holding himself, in spite of the casual posture, with a lot of tension - in his back, his shoulders, his jaw, and the fact that the hand in his hair is a white knuckled fist. For all that, the hand he's holding the fork with is relaxed.
He has barely any idea who sat down to eat with him, just that someone has. He automatically looks up and then smiles. "Hello, again."
He wasn't exactly at the right place, but he hadn't put himself at the Alpha's table or the Omega's table either, simply one of the Apprentice's tables, silly but harmless. Anders had been all ready with some quip about finding people Alaric's own age when the look in his face and strain in his voice stole his attention and took the playful tease from his expression.
"Are you...?" He paused, hand partially up towards Alaric, but hovering uselessly in the air in his hesitation. He most certainly was not alright.
"What's the matter? You seem in pain. Is it the volume?" Alaric had said he'd been alone for his cycles and a noble's house was sure to have plenty of free spaces with quiet corners, maybe the hall was simply too crowded?
"Loud and loud," he muttered, as though that made perfect sense and he wasn't repeating himself.
He blinks and makes an effort and manages to release his hand from his hair, at least. "I'll be fine. Just a bit of a headache. It's been a long day for me and I'm certain it has you as well. I don't want you to ruin your meal with more work."
Nothing about that lessened his concern and he eyes Alaric a moment before making a decision. He takes up Alaric's food and stands, then leans down to keep his voice lowered. "Come with me, take my arm."
This would, undoubtedly, feed the monstrous rumor mill, but maybe he was due some new back-handed whispers. Alaric wasn't. Day one and he's lead off on the arm of an Alpha carrying his food for him? Licentious, but the poor blond had barely set foot in Kinloch before rumors had caught like wildfire and if the headache was so bad, people whispering behind his back was a price worth paying for a bit of peace.
It was more for not getting lost, but he wasn't going to press it if Alaric was sure, he just seemed so small hunched in on himself then.
"Some place quieter."
He lead them to a far corner of the room, a small round table set up near one of the thin floor-to-ceiling windows. The corner was cooler for it, the lighting less harsh for the moonlight, and placement of the table near that particular corner meant the acoustics turned more muffled here.
At the table sat three older women and two older men, two humans and two elves, all but one of them Omegas. Only two looked up at the young men's approach and Anders nodded to one of them. "Wynne...Mind if we join you tonight?"
Wynne had been his teacher for nearly ten of his thirteen years here, as soon as he'd shown a spark of talent for Spirit Healing, she maybe knew as much about him as Irving did and her blind faith and loyalty to everything to do with the circle's systems often put them at odds...but she was good and reasonable and he trusted her to see Alaric's pain and know exactly what Anders was looking for.
She nodded and gestured to a set of chairs left empty beside her. Anders set Alaric's food down beside the woman and took the other for himself as her familiar pulse of panacea reached out and soothed through the occupants of the table. Their conversations, what little happened, were often boring, but this was probably the quietest corner in the room.
Once they were settled, Wynne smiled softly to Alaric and made brief small talk with him, an introduction, a request to let her know if he needed anything, and then she went back to her quiet conversation. The other three at the table never looked up from their books and notes.
It was a pride thing. He was grateful for the attention and had that impulse to reach out to Anders and let him know that he was grateful. He did not, because the urge was a bad idea -- and a physical one, to touch and maybe squeeze the man's forearm.
Instead, he simply complied and went where he was led.
It helped - some. It left him with the pressure and weight in his head, but without the aggravating factors he managed to return the small talk politely.
...Okay the panacea probably had a lot to do with that, and how he managed to eat most of his food.
He still ended up in posture similar to the one he had been in. Curled in on himself, and - this time listing over into Anders, albeit slightly. Turned toward him because it was away from everyone else and Anders was relatively more soothing.
He did not quite fall asleep on Anders, but he got relatively near it.
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He also doesn't quite know how to answer the question, anyway. His education's been effective but somewhat strange.
He makes his way over toward one of the trellises, looking past the fence a bit, before refocusing and tracing one of the trailing vines, carefully. "You, meanwhile, are obviously a healer." This is not a sign of intelligence. Only healers go there, right?
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"I'm afraid you've caught me green-handed." He hadn't been especially stealthy, but he could keep the nature of his healing under wraps for now. It was always the same as soon as anyone knew...people didn't always look at Wynne like that, but Anders was an Aplha, who knew how much more 'dangerous' he could be. Easier to just let it be.
"You have to understand, once anyone knows you're a healer it's all 'do this do that, Anders I have a papercut, Anders I banged my shin, Anders my stomach aches, please can't you help me' and there's never any rest again." He finishes his work and tucks the jar back away to turn and face Alaric with that smirk back in place. "But, as I said, secrets die young here, you were bound to find out eventually. Had I not needed to tend to your future salvation here, we might have even gone a day on even ground. Oh well. Welcome to the gardens, I'm sure I could arrange to bring you up here if you ever wanted, though there's plenty of others who have access, as I said, you might find yourself getting along better with them, as endlessly charming as I'm sure you've found me."
He nods to the space at large. "It's mostly communal, though everyone has their own project and specialty here, then the plants are harvested, prepared, and brought down to the projects room to be turned into potions, poultices, toxins, or whatever else might be needed." He pointed to a corner of the garden that seemed to be growing fruits and vegetables. "Oh, except those. That's just food."
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That sharp edged humor as cover again, maybe, woven through some actually important things.
He slides a strand of his blonde hair behind his ear and tucks it there to stay secure, frowning again. "...Why would you being a healer result in us being on uneven ground?" Especially in light of other things.
Also food is interesting and he's heard about it and the nature of the space but also he does not currently care about that.
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There is one, very self-destructive moment where he thinks about telling him how exactly uneven their ground is in his mind, to tell him about being a Spirit Healer and all the societal baggage that came with it. Extra danger, extra risk, constantly flirting with forces every mage is taught to steer clear of and be wary. No one wants to interact with a mage who risks possession every day, especially an Alpha, already seen as both potentially aggressive and holding power, how much worse was it to know that could be twisted into something a hundred times worse as an abomination?
The moment passes and he simply shrugs, arms out like it's a simple answer, really. "Magic is meant to serve man, not rule over him. What better service to man but those who can work the Maker's grace into healing salvation? Where most bend the natural elements and work to defend or enhance or study, healers serve even their fellow mages, not only man, the ground is proverbially uneven. I am bound to serve, you or anyone else, I am a healer before I am anything else." Half of it was said with the sort of overblown air of someone reciting someone else's words, but the other half was bare and earnest, though with far less resentment than the words themselves might imply. It was complicated, but enough for now, and only a partial lie for what he omit rather than what was said.
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It is also clear in his pause before reply, and the way his fingers on the plant he was touching still.
"I don't think that's quite how that works," is all he says, still looking... well, completely and utterly baffled, completely still save the wind toying with the occasional strand of his hair.
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All at once, his expression melted to an easy smile and he gave a wave of his hand as though brushing aside the entire thing. "Well, then I must be wrong, forget it entirely."
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"...How long have you been here, Anders?"
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He tilts his head a bit, easy smile firmly in place. "Many more to go, I think. Maker willing."
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"Your coping mechanisms are, I'm sure, effective, but they also make you seem psychotic."
Just, you know, throwing that out there.
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"How do you know I'm not? Lucky for you, you're endlessly charming, I'm sure you'll do fine. Is there anywhere else you'd like to go or anything else you'd like to do before the old codger calls on you?"
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He leads them back out of the garden and down the colorful hall back to the lower floors. As they crossed passed the floor with the wards, Anders tossed a curious look over to Alaric. "This might be too personal, but you responded to my answer about the cycles with disdain earlier. I'm curious what it is you're used to, what you were expecting."
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There's no hesitation in his steps, he simply carries on. He does however briefly break eye-contact, to try to find words. Not answers, he has those, just the words.
Then he realizes there isn't really any dressing it up and he wouldn't if he could. It's brutal in its own way but it's the sort of thing he is used to. Familiar. "Being left alone." It really is that simple.
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If it was really bad, he or Wynne might be called in with a specific person or a full room depending on the definition of 'bad' and it was miserable for all involved. Another aspect of serving, but he couldn't imagine being left to suffer entirely alone.
"You find that to be better?"
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A pause, and amendment, "Excluding several days when anyone with a dick would have been fine, but incredibly awkward and uncomfortable shortly after."
Then he softens and shrugs, slightly. "It is physically miserable, there is little to nothing I could realistically do about it." In hiding, remember? "Curling up behind walls and waiting it out if nothing else saved my dignity."
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Their path led them past a set of templars stationed at the stairs, then another stationed at Irving's closed door and Anders stepped a bit closer to lower his voice, tone pointed and eyes on the next templar stationed thirty or so feet away. "In the meantime...welcome to a life of never being alone again, Ser Morgan."
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That is all true at least, though he is not looking forward to discussions.
It doesn't even occur to him to dread dinner.
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Gregoir and Irving, for all their flaws, ran a tight ship as far as process was concerned, however, and it was hardly a zoo, but even lowered voices for conversations at the various mage tables and templar tables could create a din.
For his part, Anders was faced with the same dilemma he'd been faced with for the last year and a half: where to sit. A simple problem, really, and it wasn't that there weren't options, he just had to pick his preference of downside.
He could sit with Wynne and a few of her peers who either kept quite and dull conversation or none at all and potentially suffer his previous-mentor's disapproving or judgmental remarks. He could sit with a couple of the Apprentices that had recent undergone their Harrowing and suddenly feel ancient or be bombarded with questions, depending on the flavor of the night, or he could sit with his old friends. The ones that knew what number of theirs was missing and had been and still they looked at him with such pity in their eyes, though he knew some of them were beginning to think 'hasn't it been long enough?' and that was worse.
He was contemplating the table full of only Alphas when he caught sight of Alaric instead. He could start there at least, maybe make sure his temporary charge settled in somewhere.
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He was also sitting with his other elbow on the table, head propped in his hand, and his head tilted deliberately, so as to direct his hair to fall over his face. He was not complaining about... anything, but the number of people and noise level were creating issues - or one issue made worse by the other.
He is holding himself, in spite of the casual posture, with a lot of tension - in his back, his shoulders, his jaw, and the fact that the hand in his hair is a white knuckled fist. For all that, the hand he's holding the fork with is relaxed.
He has barely any idea who sat down to eat with him, just that someone has. He automatically looks up and then smiles. "Hello, again."
Does he sound right?
No.
Because he is in physical pain.
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"Are you...?" He paused, hand partially up towards Alaric, but hovering uselessly in the air in his hesitation. He most certainly was not alright.
"What's the matter? You seem in pain. Is it the volume?" Alaric had said he'd been alone for his cycles and a noble's house was sure to have plenty of free spaces with quiet corners, maybe the hall was simply too crowded?
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He blinks and makes an effort and manages to release his hand from his hair, at least. "I'll be fine. Just a bit of a headache. It's been a long day for me and I'm certain it has you as well. I don't want you to ruin your meal with more work."
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This would, undoubtedly, feed the monstrous rumor mill, but maybe he was due some new back-handed whispers. Alaric wasn't. Day one and he's lead off on the arm of an Alpha carrying his food for him? Licentious, but the poor blond had barely set foot in Kinloch before rumors had caught like wildfire and if the headache was so bad, people whispering behind his back was a price worth paying for a bit of peace.
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He stands up but does not take the arm, out of principal. His legs are fine, thank you, and he can deal with gossip (probably).
"Where are we going?"
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"Some place quieter."
He lead them to a far corner of the room, a small round table set up near one of the thin floor-to-ceiling windows. The corner was cooler for it, the lighting less harsh for the moonlight, and placement of the table near that particular corner meant the acoustics turned more muffled here.
At the table sat three older women and two older men, two humans and two elves, all but one of them Omegas. Only two looked up at the young men's approach and Anders nodded to one of them. "Wynne...Mind if we join you tonight?"
Wynne had been his teacher for nearly ten of his thirteen years here, as soon as he'd shown a spark of talent for Spirit Healing, she maybe knew as much about him as Irving did and her blind faith and loyalty to everything to do with the circle's systems often put them at odds...but she was good and reasonable and he trusted her to see Alaric's pain and know exactly what Anders was looking for.
She nodded and gestured to a set of chairs left empty beside her. Anders set Alaric's food down beside the woman and took the other for himself as her familiar pulse of panacea reached out and soothed through the occupants of the table. Their conversations, what little happened, were often boring, but this was probably the quietest corner in the room.
Once they were settled, Wynne smiled softly to Alaric and made brief small talk with him, an introduction, a request to let her know if he needed anything, and then she went back to her quiet conversation. The other three at the table never looked up from their books and notes.
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Instead, he simply complied and went where he was led.
It helped - some. It left him with the pressure and weight in his head, but without the aggravating factors he managed to return the small talk politely.
...Okay the panacea probably had a lot to do with that, and how he managed to eat most of his food.
He still ended up in posture similar to the one he had been in. Curled in on himself, and - this time listing over into Anders, albeit slightly. Turned toward him because it was away from everyone else and Anders was relatively more soothing.
He did not quite fall asleep on Anders, but he got relatively near it.
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