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Come here for musebox stuff, PSLs, or post-captcha meme continuation. Put the verse or PSL or whatever in the subject line plz.
Hit this up if you know me and have an idea. Hit me up if you don't know me, we've never interacted IC or OOC, and you have an idea. Hit this up for any and all reasons. I welcome everything.
i super hope this is coherent
[He says peevishly. His usual, easy, languid manner has abandoned him tonight.]
You think anyone can grow up in Kirkwall without losing a few friends to the Gallows?
[But... but. But Kirkwall is also a city rife with blood magic, and Varric has spent his whole life hearing, seeing, and feeling the horror of that. The average Kirkwaller sees more blood magic than the average non-Kirkwall Templar. So there was always that clouding the issue. And the issue of how to do anything about it without bringing down the whole damn world around their ears, or causing an Exalted March so furious it makes the Dales look like a friendly disagreement.
He had his own shit to deal with. He never understood Anders's single-minded hatred, or his inability to simply relax and enjoy his freedom. They've had plenty of conversations to that effect.]
It's... listen. If what happened to Bartrand had been somebody's fault, done on purpose? I'd- I don't even want to think about what I'd do. It wouldn't be pretty.
[It's a glimpse into the why of Anders. A sudden, sharp shock of empathy for the man's unwavering crusade. Varric always understood the plight and the injustice of it, he just didn't have this connection- this insight that could outweigh the powerful allure of the status quo.]
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He doesn't want to argue; this is neither the time nor the place for it. But he still has to bite back another bitter remark.
It's not about placing blame, or having some personal stake. It's so much more than that. But— ]
It's... fine, Varric.
[ Anders straightens the sleeves of his coat, sitting back in his chair and not managing to look less sullen than he imagines he does. ]
Why not just read it, sometime, if you really want to know how it's going?
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Alright, bring it over next Wicked Grace night.
[He reaches for Anders's mug and slides some water down Blondie's way instead. If the mage isn't gonna drink it, then Varric can give that ale a good home.]
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[ Equally as halfhearted.
He shakes his head when Varric passes the water his way, as well. ]
I should probably get going, soon. Any later, and it'll be safer to wait until dawn before trying to walk back to Darktown.
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[That wasn't halfhearted. He really did want to see the manifesto- even felt a bit shitty for never having asked about it before.
His movements were halfhearted: taking the mug, moving the water. Anything involving physical motion. That was halfhearted. But the words? No.]
Stay safe, Blondie. Thanks for- you know.
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[ It's almost a wan smile on his lips, as he finishes setting himself to rights again and nods, taking up his staff and heading for the door. He doesn't relish the long walk back to the clinic, but at least the fresh air might help clear his head. ]