"I've not the first idea how to farm," he says, mildly, "but I certainly know how to lead an army and use a sword from one." It's mild and there's a bit of a wan smile to go with it. "I had some friends amongst the 'staff', but most were somewhat wary of me and very young. At least when it comes to the people who were serving food."
He scoffs playfully. "Really? What a noble. Although...you're likely the only mage in the tower who knows how to use a sword, so there's that." He was impressed, even if he was bad at showing it.
Half his plate finished, he sets his dinner aside in favor of the wine and giving Alaric his full attention. "So...they were wary of you because of your magic? Or something else?"
He wasn't wrong, he also wasn't answering Anders' question.
Anders rests his jaw to his hand with a small smile. He shouldn't tease or rile, he shouldn't be a bastard...and yet, as easy as it was to be himself around Alaric, it was just as easy to forget to take that veneer off himself when he wore it all the time. If he even realized he was wearing it.
"Did I touch a nerve? It's a good thing, really! Someone pulls a sword out on you, you might even stand a chance against them. You're right: the only place tilling any earth comes in handy are in the pots in the garden and that's hardly the same. I do know how to stitch clothing back together, though, that's still practical." Especially when sometimes he had to apply it to skin. Luckily, not often.
He studies Anders' face and slowly gets his hackles down. He should know better than to take it personally or let it show.
Yet, somehow, that had gotten under his skin.
"Wary of my magic, in cases that it was known. Wary of my status and rank, or wary of rumors or just my strangeness in cases where my magic was not." Olive branch of an answer? Yes. Yes it was.
The tension in Alaric’s shoulders seem to ease in small measure and Anders’ small smile turns more genuine to match.
“Well, you don’t have to worry on any of those with me: I know your magic, rumors run more rampant than rats in a granary, I don’t care a fig for your status, and I find your strangeness charming.” Sadly or fortunately, his opinion wasn’t the only. He reaches for the bottle again as he asks: “How many others here know the extent of your magic?”
His brow raises as he takes a deep glup and replaces the bottle.
"Really? What of Irving?" Because he's the only one Anders actually worried about knowing. It's possible he did, it's also perfectly possible he maybe only pretended to and didn't know a thing. That happened often enough.
Anders nods. "Good. I hope it stays that way. Codger's clever but can't read minds or know everything, no matter how he acts. Besides, he has a whole tower of people to worry about, I doubt he'll even notice with how well you've been keeping your head down." Again, hopefully.
"That reminds me: I struck a deal with the kitchens: you should be able to collect your dinner from them without going to the hall, even if I'm not here."
He's sorely tempted to be vague and cryptic and see what Alaric comes up with on his own, especially since he's fairly certain the kitchens would do the same.
His smile is cheeky and leans forward a bit. "What do you think I promised them? What's worth bending the rules a bit to a group controlled by Knight-Commander Gregoir, I wonder?" Okay, maybe he's going to be a little bit of a jerk. For now.
"I can only imagine, and all of my imagination involves sex, or destruction of property." He has... perhaps not quite gotten a good idea of how things really work.
"Hm...a good guess. Though, perhaps less the destruction of property unless they wanted me to break into someone's office, I suppose." He shakes his head. "No, I didn't promise either, it would make you uncomfortable." He wasn't above such promises or deals, he also knew how these things worked all too often, but that sort of deal might end far worse for all involved if caught, there were simpler exchanges.
"Not all of my plants that were infected survived, so once the spare pots are cleaned of the infestation, I promised them and a very sunny spot in the garden to some herbs the kitchen is having trouble growing. They're apparently very expensive and they can't have them imported, so I agreed to trade some of my expertise and plant space to their needs in exchange for yours." He shrugs. "I'm fairly certain it's a drug of some sort, but I really don't care. You may have your quiet meals whenever you need."
He arches his eyebrows at the remark about being made uncomfortable.
Except it is absolutely and completely true so his attempt at looking disproving is highly ineffective.
The rest, though...
"That's very considerate and as trades go a reasonable one. Particularly since the kitchen having more herbs is likely to result in an improvement for all of us. That said I will try to face the dining hall upon occasion."
Probably rare occasion, but he will make an effort.
"Oh, don't mention it, what good is immeasurable charm and a winning smile if I don't put them to good use now and again?" He's joking, the kind of light-hearted dismissal meant to downplay earnest feeling and the lightness in him for having done something to make Alaric's life easier. No, pretend it's nothing, pretend he might have done it for anyone and move on.
"Is now a good time to mention you might need to face the dining hall alone sooner than we thought? Or should mixed news wait for another day?"
"Nothing I need to know should ever wait." HE wants to tackle Anders and make him acknowledge that he did a wonderful, good, kind thing. He's been effectively derailed by that question and the spike of anxiety in the wake of it, though.
He gives a half shrug and a nod. “Fair’s fair. Let’s see...”
He looks around the surrounding lands until his eyes fall on the top of a low, red, mountain just north of them with the shade of a keep sat atop it.
“Do you see Redcliff over there? In the valley below is the Hinterlands. There’s a smattering of farmsteads and villages there that have been facing an illness that affects people and animals. People are recovered and made ill anew and no one knows why. I leave here in two day’s time to help.”
He looks back to Alaric, his expression apologetic and voice softer. “I only found out this morning.”
He follows to look at the place and then back at Anders, with concern and confusion. "That isn't bad news, and nothing to feel badly for. Being away will do you good and they need help."
He'll miss Anders, and the reprieve, but this isn't about him.
"Oh, no, I'm elated, the only good part of being a spirit healer when the warm fuzzy feeling of helping others passes, but I will miss our meetings." He takes Alaric's hand and kisses the back of it, but lets go quickly enough, as though the prolonged touch may give away how honestly he felt about that under his heavily flippant tone.
"A week, maybe two. Wynne will still be here and I have a friend named Amell who knows who you are and could make for good company, if you needed."
He didn't necessarily feel badly, but he was a little worried. Protective. It was very much about Alaric.
Were they in a better location, he would crawl into Anders lap. It would make it easier to demand eye-contact and to hold it, as well as give them closeness.
"I will be fine. I'm not particularly social, the situation here and now is handled and there is an entire library worth of books I have barely begun to explore. There are also things to learn here." He's very soft, and very serious as he says it. "Enjoy your break and travel, Anders. I'll still be here when you return."
A pause, and - "Though doesn't that coincide with your... cycle?"
That soft assurance that Alaric will be there when he returns is something he wants to sink into and hold on. He wants to believe that there isn't a chance of coning back to finding empty air and whispers of a transfer. No, not this soon, not even Irving would do that. Still, paranoia was hard to shake. Luckily, he doesn't have long to dwell on it nor the thought of conceding that learning was the one thing the circle was good for.
He doesn't know if he's grateful for the question or dreading it, but he is surprised by it. Surprised because it means someone was paying attention. Alaric was paying attention. His smile widens and sharpens and he looks back out to the docks across the lake. "Doesn't it just? Sadly, the Arl was dragging his feet on the request and I might die of surprise if Irving bothered to think of it himself. I'll double the potency of the potion, perhaps see if there's any suppressants lying around...and muscle through the rest." He waves his hand dismissively. "Something something no rest for the wicked or what have you." He shoots Alaric a look but his cowardice doesn't allow the look to linger as his tone softens and loses a touch of the flippant irreverence. "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine."
Of course Alaric is paying attention to you. You are hot, you are safe, you are trusted -- and you are his.
That answer does not do a lot to reassure him, and he lifts his eyebrows a bit at the flippant response, and sighs softly. "I'm certain you will manage to survive, but I will worry about you."
A lot. He might also get ragingly, insanely, irrationally, jealous and paranoid about it all.
He shouldn't feel happy about that, shouldn't feel comforted by the idea that Alaric would worry for him all the same, but those are things he feels and, after a moment, he forgives himself for it. It was only natural to want that kind of care and connection, right? Especially when it came from someone who seemed to bring a comforting stillness to a room, someone who unfailingly turned Anders' eye.
A quick assessment of the room ensured there was only silence and dust as audience as he took up Alaric's hand to kiss the backs of his fingers. "Well, I certainly can't stop you any more than I can change how much I will miss you." And likely all the more during his cycle. No, maybe it is better that he won't be here in those days leading up. He might very well make a fool of himself or -worse- the both of them.
Yet, that thought did nothing to stem the next, the one that flew out from the back of his mind and settled very quickly closer to the front. He could request company. He could take someone with him if he worded his case wisely- for Alaric, would it really be so hard to convince when he'd proven he knew how to conduct himself in the outside world? Or would his apostacy and nobility conflict too much? For now, he remained silent on it, there was too much unknown to risk high hopes.
Alaric absolutely feels that... Not the individual thought, but the idea and the conflict over it. He has no trouble with the idea of being out in the world, he does know how to handle himself.
He also knows how to get what he wants, through means both more or less ethical.
He looks at Anders and inclines his head slightly to the side.
"If I go with you, we will have sex." Just going to put that out there. Like it's inevitable. Because it feels inevitable.
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Half his plate finished, he sets his dinner aside in favor of the wine and giving Alaric his full attention. "So...they were wary of you because of your magic? Or something else?"
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Defensive?
...Yeah.
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Anders rests his jaw to his hand with a small smile. He shouldn't tease or rile, he shouldn't be a bastard...and yet, as easy as it was to be himself around Alaric, it was just as easy to forget to take that veneer off himself when he wore it all the time. If he even realized he was wearing it.
"Did I touch a nerve? It's a good thing, really! Someone pulls a sword out on you, you might even stand a chance against them. You're right: the only place tilling any earth comes in handy are in the pots in the garden and that's hardly the same. I do know how to stitch clothing back together, though, that's still practical." Especially when sometimes he had to apply it to skin. Luckily, not often.
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Yet, somehow, that had gotten under his skin.
"Wary of my magic, in cases that it was known. Wary of my status and rank, or wary of rumors or just my strangeness in cases where my magic was not." Olive branch of an answer? Yes. Yes it was.
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“Well, you don’t have to worry on any of those with me: I know your magic, rumors run more rampant than rats in a granary, I don’t care a fig for your status, and I find your strangeness charming.” Sadly or fortunately, his opinion wasn’t the only. He reaches for the bottle again as he asks: “How many others here know the extent of your magic?”
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His look is flatly bemused. "No one here knows the full extent of my magic."
He doesn't sound like he plans on changing that, either.
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"Really? What of Irving?" Because he's the only one Anders actually worried about knowing. It's possible he did, it's also perfectly possible he maybe only pretended to and didn't know a thing. That happened often enough.
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Possibly yes, but the full extent... was a lot.
And he tried very hard to never, ever, allow that to be known.
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"That reminds me: I struck a deal with the kitchens: you should be able to collect your dinner from them without going to the hall, even if I'm not here."
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His smile is cheeky and leans forward a bit. "What do you think I promised them? What's worth bending the rules a bit to a group controlled by Knight-Commander Gregoir, I wonder?" Okay, maybe he's going to be a little bit of a jerk. For now.
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"Not all of my plants that were infected survived, so once the spare pots are cleaned of the infestation, I promised them and a very sunny spot in the garden to some herbs the kitchen is having trouble growing. They're apparently very expensive and they can't have them imported, so I agreed to trade some of my expertise and plant space to their needs in exchange for yours." He shrugs. "I'm fairly certain it's a drug of some sort, but I really don't care. You may have your quiet meals whenever you need."
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Except it is absolutely and completely true so his attempt at looking disproving is highly ineffective.
The rest, though...
"That's very considerate and as trades go a reasonable one. Particularly since the kitchen having more herbs is likely to result in an improvement for all of us. That said I will try to face the dining hall upon occasion."
Probably rare occasion, but he will make an effort.
"Thank you for doing that for me."
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"Is now a good time to mention you might need to face the dining hall alone sooner than we thought? Or should mixed news wait for another day?"
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He looks around the surrounding lands until his eyes fall on the top of a low, red, mountain just north of them with the shade of a keep sat atop it.
“Do you see Redcliff over there? In the valley below is the Hinterlands. There’s a smattering of farmsteads and villages there that have been facing an illness that affects people and animals. People are recovered and made ill anew and no one knows why. I leave here in two day’s time to help.”
He looks back to Alaric, his expression apologetic and voice softer. “I only found out this morning.”
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He'll miss Anders, and the reprieve, but this isn't about him.
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"A week, maybe two. Wynne will still be here and I have a friend named Amell who knows who you are and could make for good company, if you needed."
He didn't necessarily feel badly, but he was a little worried. Protective. It was very much about Alaric.
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"I will be fine. I'm not particularly social, the situation here and now is handled and there is an entire library worth of books I have barely begun to explore. There are also things to learn here." He's very soft, and very serious as he says it. "Enjoy your break and travel, Anders. I'll still be here when you return."
A pause, and - "Though doesn't that coincide with your... cycle?"
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He doesn't know if he's grateful for the question or dreading it, but he is surprised by it. Surprised because it means someone was paying attention. Alaric was paying attention. His smile widens and sharpens and he looks back out to the docks across the lake. "Doesn't it just? Sadly, the Arl was dragging his feet on the request and I might die of surprise if Irving bothered to think of it himself. I'll double the potency of the potion, perhaps see if there's any suppressants lying around...and muscle through the rest." He waves his hand dismissively. "Something something no rest for the wicked or what have you." He shoots Alaric a look but his cowardice doesn't allow the look to linger as his tone softens and loses a touch of the flippant irreverence. "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine."
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Of course Alaric is paying attention to you. You are hot, you are safe, you are trusted -- and you are his.
That answer does not do a lot to reassure him, and he lifts his eyebrows a bit at the flippant response, and sighs softly. "I'm certain you will manage to survive, but I will worry about you."
A lot. He might also get ragingly, insanely, irrationally, jealous and paranoid about it all.
(Might - no. Would. Will.)
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A quick assessment of the room ensured there was only silence and dust as audience as he took up Alaric's hand to kiss the backs of his fingers. "Well, I certainly can't stop you any more than I can change how much I will miss you." And likely all the more during his cycle. No, maybe it is better that he won't be here in those days leading up. He might very well make a fool of himself or -worse- the both of them.
Yet, that thought did nothing to stem the next, the one that flew out from the back of his mind and settled very quickly closer to the front. He could request company. He could take someone with him if he worded his case wisely- for Alaric, would it really be so hard to convince when he'd proven he knew how to conduct himself in the outside world? Or would his apostacy and nobility conflict too much? For now, he remained silent on it, there was too much unknown to risk high hopes.
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He also knows how to get what he wants, through means both more or less ethical.
He looks at Anders and inclines his head slightly to the side.
"If I go with you, we will have sex." Just going to put that out there. Like it's inevitable. Because it feels inevitable.
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