dǫçţǫŗ şɭęęƥ (shone) wrote in valloic, @ 2020-02-22 10:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | !: action/thread/log, ₴ inactive: dan torrance |
WHO: Anders, Hawke, and Dan
WHAT: Justice comes out to play, Dan comes to put him to sleep so he doesn't burn down the building
WHERE: Anders and Hawke's apartment
WHEN: After this
WARNINGS: Nothing too bad
STATUS: Complete
Dealing with Justice wasn’t really as hard as it sounded. She knew how to talk to the Spirit whenever he showed up, and generally when he did he was easy to talk down. Justice didn’t like her, which was always weird in some sense, but he tended to listen. Whenever he didn’t, it generally meant Something Was Wrong, and the Spirit wanted to fix it. Thing was, it couldn’t always be fixed. Not at the moment. And while it was unfair of her, and probably proving several of Justice’s points, she had removed all the devices. Justice didn’t need to burn all the bridges Anders was making. Anders had friendships he was forming and despite Justice’s feelings on such trivial matters, she wanted Anders to have people he could rely on, and who could support him. So she’d knicked them and stored them where the spirit wouldn’t go looking and had been keeping the cat company. The animal had sensed the shift and was hiding, probably not wanting the lecture of ‘here’s the reasons you’re not really free’ any more then Hawke did. When she heard the knock she raised her head, frowning. She collected the cat and went to answer the door. --- For Dan, the Shining ebbed and flowed. He’d gotten used to it, the way one might get used to something like tinnitus - he paid attention when he needed to, and he ignored what could be brushed aside. But tonight, when he felt anger - something that swelled in veins and boiled, was so loud that the sky nearly fell down, kissing the earth - he couldn’t exactly ignore that. So he followed the source, and found that it led to Anders’ apartment in the building. Dan didn’t know him all that well, but he gathered there were strong opinions about coming and going in the city - and also that he came from another time and place entirely, one lacking iced vanilla lattes and the internet. Either way, this didn’t seem right, and if he could help? Then he wanted to. It was Hawke who answered the door. “Hey, I just - “ Well, as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, he realized that he hadn’t exactly explained why he could sense and influence emotions, why he could pick thoughts from minds like plucking fruit from a bushel. “I wanted to check on Anders. Is he okay?” --- "Anders is not okay." The voice (or voices would perhaps be more accurate, traces of the human - frustrated, pleading and so very tired - creeping in around the edges of the deeper, angrier tone) came from the bedroom, reverberating unnaturally from beyond the closed door. The air in the apartment smelled faintly smoky, and hung heavy and oppressive as if waiting for a storm to break. "None of us should be okay while any of our number are not free." Under normal circumstances Justice was… not content, for Justice was not and could never be content in an imperfect world, but at least willing to stay in the background and let everyone, Anders included, cling to the pleasant fiction that the mage had things under control. This, however, was not Normal Circumstances, and the longer they stayed in Vallo - the more frustrated Anders found himself, unable to stir the other displaced into joining him in trying to Fix Things and lacking a clear target to throw himself against - the more difficult it was to remain silent. This latest affront, that they should be grateful for such insultingly transparent bribes - bribes that, as Anders had pointed out to Eddie, had Conveniently Increased since he'd started trying to figure out how to seize control of the Waypoints - was the final indignity. And so the spirit seethed. The apartment, visible beyond Hawke, bore testament to how Not Okay Anders actually was; across one wall a number of scraps of paper had been pinned, networked together in a spider's web of coloured thread, the result of the work he'd been throwing himself into since arriving. One cluster related to Solas and the potential calamity back in Thedas and another had sketches of the various monsters that had turned up in Vallo such as the "knifey-bastards", but the majority was concerned with the functioning of the Waypoints, the metaphysics of this world's native magic, and any morsels of evidence pointing to a deity-equivalent behind all of this. ---- When she noticed it was Dan, she smiled. She liked him well enough, and he was one of those bridges she really didn't want Justice to burn. But when he asked after anders Hawke's instinct, as ever, was to be a barrier. She'd been fully prepared to lie through her teeth, because this was Anders' thing to talk about. It wasn't for her to really say much about, as much as she'd like. But then Justice opened his mouth and the only thing she could do was sigh. Some days, punching the Spirit was really tempting, even if it also hurt Anders. She raised her eyes to the ceiling, really wishing she had more faith, before giving a sigh. "Aye, well. Guess there's that." she motioned to the apartment. "Come in then." She sounded resigned, and it was nothing against Dan. She just wanted this conversation to be Anders' choice. Not the Spirits. She would close the door once Dan was inside, wondering how much to really say. That it was odd Dan had just showed up apparently didn't cross her mind. Hawke was from a world steeped in magic, and she'd seen the conversation between Dan and Anders, so to her mind Dan was a mage and might have felt Justice. The Spirit wasn't exactly subtle. "It's a long story, but Anders is," she paused and considered, "busy. Hope you like long lectures on all that," she was mentioning the whole 'none of us are free' thing. "I can't say much more, not mine to say, but once he's back he can explain more." She gave Dan a smile before she moved to the door. "Dan here's a friend, alright? Do not be a shit because you're ornery." She opened the door, knowing not much could hurt right now. Despite everything, Justice still trusted her. At least to listen enough when she told him 'no'. She could count on that much. "He wants to check up." With a sigh she stepped aside and crossed her arms. Even seeing Justice could be odd. She was long used to it, but she knew few others were. And while normally she’d give people space, right now she didn’t really want anyone to get hurt. “Can I get you anything?” She asked Dan, because even now being a good host was important. --- Jesus. This was an entirely new situation, though Dan was used to ghosts - they lived in his head, hungering for bone and sinew and souls, lockboxes on a dusty shelf. Sometimes they rattled. Sometimes he could feel their starvation, their restlessness. Their fury. It was similar to this fury, the kind that radiated off of Anders - or from whatever was within him. A different kind of spirit, one who yearned for justice. One who merged with a human like he was a pottery vessel, and cracks were now forming. “Oh, no, I’m fine - thank you,” he told Hawke, though he might need some water after this. His throat felt parched all of a sudden. “So - “ He turned his attention to the apparition using Anders as a meatsuit, “...can you explain what it is that has made you so upset tonight in particular?” Maybe if he talked it out, he’d calm down - but mostly Dan wanted to see where they were at. He was prepared to do calming no matter what. --- Ordinarily, Anders was - when not actively rewriting reality in order to throw lightning around or knit flesh and bone together with entirely unnatural speed, at least - the exact opposite of intimidating. With Justice at the helm, however, that changed. Even sat ostensibly-calmly as he was, hunched over with his hands steepled in his lap, he seemed only ever a few heartbeats from lashing out. The unsettling effect was not helped in the slightest by the shimmering cracks, the murderous and quite literally-on-fire glare he shot at the open door, or the sense that normal human habits like fidgeting or breaking eye contact had been temporarily put on hold by something that didn't understand their necessity. Even his breathing felt off, as if it were an afterthought, a conscious act maintained only to enable speech. "That nobody else is." The words were careful, measured, even stilted, the sort of artificially-affected patience that suggests the speaker doesn't actually have much left and is actively trying not to descend into shrieking apoplexy. "We were brought here without consent. We are kept here without consent. That merits Outrage. Not" - his gaze shifted from Dan to Hawke, the simmering contempt palpable - "tolerating it because a handful of trinkets are convenient." --- It said something, probably nothing good, that Hawke was terribly blase about Justice. This was an intimidating Spirit who obviously didn’t like her that much and she, while obviously annoyed, didn’t seem to think much of it. But if Justice had really wanted to leave, there wasn’t really much she could do about it. Justice was the stronger being, and she doubted things like doors were much of a hurdle. It was really the answer to why she was so calm. Justice was still here, which said a lot. So she rolled her eyes at the look the spirit gave her. “Don’t give me shit. Being outraged the entire time isn’t entirely healthy for us tiny mortal beings.” Kirkwall had been a pile of awful crap, often on fire, but it had taught her that much. She’d long learned to bank her own inner fire, or she’d burn herself out. And then she’d have nothing left, and she knew from experience it wasn’t good. “It’s like Kirkwall you ornery shit. We’re in a place we can’t just leave from, with forces outside of our control. Forgive me if I’m looking at silver linings here. We’ve established it’s terribly convenient, and highly suspicious and it’s tied to what you’re figuring out. There is, currently, not a damn thing we can do. And alienating friends isn’t the way to go about it, because you’re trying to tell people how to feel.” It was an old argument, and she wasn’t sure if it was helping. So she took a breath and turned to Dan. “Sorry. He’s a shit.” She grinned then, always ready to make light of things, even when they shouldn’t be. “My shit though,” she looked to Anders, knowing Justice’s feelings about it all. “Right, love?” She sat down then, conveniently between the two of them. Being an obstacle was part of it all. But she would let Dan try it. Maybe a neutral party might help. --- “Well, alright - “ Dan wasn’t a trained mediator or anything (though his bedside manner was pretty good, after nearly a decade of working in medicine), and he was also pretty sure that trying to reason with a spirit that wanted out more than anything, was going to be difficult. Anders seemed to be something of the internal mediator, but he was currently - squelched? Or something. And what a terrifying experience that must be. Maybe Justice didn’t deserve to be exorcised and banished to Hell or something, but it was pretty clear that they couldn’t share a body forever. Problems for later, however. Dan focused on the now. “Trying to get everyone on the same page can be difficult, especially when we all come from different backgrounds and time periods,” he hedged. “But there are plenty who agree with you, who want to leave and return to their lives. It’s just that - some don’t, and they live here, in this building, and getting them pulled into something that means blunt force and them getting hurt isn’t right either. We can use the skills we have to learn more about what holds us here,” he promised. “I’m here. I can help you.” One of the aspects of the Shining was being able to influence and control emotions - so he did what he often had to do, when comforting a scared, anxious, dying patient. He projected calm - like the gold and scarlet of early days of autumn, the last of the sun’s rays before twilight beckoned the stars to come out. Like the rhythm of the ocean’s waves kissing the tide. Where everything was just sweet surrender and lullabies. “Will you let me help you?” --- The look Hawke received made it abundantly clear that he was not 'her shit', and that her continued presence was at the spirit's indulgence only, his response a curt "You and I remember Kirkwall very differently". Where Hawke had learned patience and optimism, Anders had spent his time beating his head against the brick walls of Chantry corruption and Circle complicity until the only reasonable response seemed to be an act of what most considered unconscionable terrorism. So perhaps the comparison wasn't all that poor, just not the one she had intended to draw. Then Dan spoke, and the spirit bristled. The words were reasonable enough but behind them? Behind them something else spoke, and it sounded an awful lot like Sloth, though both parts of the Abomination ought to have known if that particular adversary had managed to manifest, and the longer the human remained the harder it became to remember exactly why Indolence was such a hated foe. Still, he recoiled slightly, his gaze now wary rather than scathing, a hint - slight, but a hint none the less - of caution in his tone. "... it's not Right." Justice ventured. "If they wish to stay so be it. Stay. We do not care. But it should be a Choice. Our anger is no less valid than their cherished complacency." --- "We really don't," she gave with a tone of voice that spoke of how often she'd had this conversation. She'd hit her metaphorical head against plenty of walls herself, she'd just learned to not do that, and wait for an opening. It had been different though, but that was another argument she wasn't keen on having. And poor Dan didn’t need to be subjected to that either, he was already being kind enough to help with this much. Weird couple counseling was probably not part of what he wanted to deal with. The calm helped her settle as well, allowing her to lean back in the seat and look between the two. It seemed less likely it would end in a fight, which was good. And instead of arguing with what Justice was saying, which she would if she was still as riled up as she had been, she just sighed and shared a look with Dan. She’d repay him for all of this, somehow. --- “It should be a choice,” Dan agreed - he wasn’t about to argue either, not when he was still pretty new to the whole thing. But either way, he didn’t have to be here for years to know that flinging people around from dimension to dimension, without their consent, wasn’t exactly...great. “We can work to get there. I promise. I just don’t want any innocent people to get hurt. That’s not what anyone wants.” He glanced at Hawke, smiling slightly - it was okay, he didn’t mind. Mostly he’d just wanted to check on Anders, since Dan knew full well (on a goddamn personal level) what kind of results came from an anger that burned so brightly. Nothing positive. While he doubted Justice-in-a-meatsuit would hurt his lover, preventing any collateral damage was also important. The recoiling was noted, and Dan didn’t push for more calm - but he did aim to sort of gently ease the carousel of thoughts going ‘round and ‘round in Justice’s head; right now it was basically a carousel on fire, but he attempted to squelch it, going for the warm blanket of drowsiness and sleep instead. The temptation of that shadowy world of dreams. “It’s going to be okay,” he murmured silkily. “You don’t have to fight so hard. Rest too.” --- “Justice doesn’t get to rest, it-” - the spirit paused. Then, the spirit blinked, which was odd. Odder still, it yawned. ‘Tired’ was an emotion with which the Anders portion of their unique construct was well acquainted, but with which Justice held no truck, and it wasn’t entirely sure what was happening. Which should have bothered it. Why didn’t it care? Why… didn’t… The glow guttered out, and all was still. Unnaturally so, for a long moment, before a piteous whine that was entirely too human to be anyone but Anders escaped, as he screwed up his eyes and rubbed his temples, hunching further forward as if hit by the proverbial mother of all hangovers. “... Maker’s balls.” His voice was, unsurprisingly, much smaller without the supernatural timbre. “What did you do?” --- Hawke had never, in all her years, seen Justice yawn. For all she knew, the Spirit just didn't feel the same mortal failings Anders did, and tended to let his mortal host deal with it. Nor had she seen the Spirit leave like this. Justice tended to linger when he wanted to. She looked between Anders and Dan before reaching out to set a hand on Anders’ shoulder. “You alright there?” Then she looked to Dan, “more or less what he said.” She’d never seen magic like this. Anything mind related she’d ever seen had never been like this. She gave Anders another glance. “He’s alright though?” She more or less meant Justice. The spirit might not really care for her, but seeing he was part of Anders she did care for him. “What about you?” She didn’t really know what Dan had done, but what she knew of mages was that if there was no lyrium, food was always a good way of replenishing things. That and rest, but that could be later. --- Dan nodded, “He’s okay,” he said, referring to Justice. “I just - brought Anders back to the forefront.” No, Doctor Sleep didn’t have the ability to exorcise a...demon? Well, Justice didn’t seem very demonic, per se. The spirit was intense though, that was for certain. And it seemed precarious to keep him around, with a human as a vessel. “I’m fine too. It’s - not exactly magic, but...it’s something I was born with,” he attempted to explain. “I use it a lot with my job. To comfort people. It’s like an extra sense, I suppose - I can read thoughts, sense what people are feeling, things like that.” He had some extra-extras too, in addition to those skills, but he didn’t need to go into it in detail. They probably didn’t want to hear it. He tapped his fingers on his knees, about to stand. “I’m sorry, I just felt how angry Justice was and wanted to make sure you were okay, Anders. I can go? You two probably want to be alone.” --- Anders leant into Hawke’s touch, the hand not shielding his eyes from how bright and loud everything seemed all of a sudden coming up to squeeze her fingers in vague reassurance that yes, he was somewhere in the region of ‘alright, though the whole experience was unsettling in a way difficult to describe to anyone not unduly accustomed to shared-custody of their mind and body. “I’m- Andraste wept, that’s…” He shuddered slightly. Exhaled, Tried again. “That’s so bloody weird.. Justice isn’t-” - forcing himself to look up, his gaze turned in roughly Dan’s direction, though maintaining it for any amount of time took more conscious thought than he was entirely willing to expend, focus drifting off at odd intervals. “He’s still in here? You didn’t- he’s not locked away, or…” A vague handwave. There were a lot of ‘Ors’ that he wasn’t quite ready to articulate. Most of them felt uncomfortably like betrayal. A curious, tentative ‘Mrrr?’ sound cut across the silence, as the Captain cautiously peered into the bedroom, body pressed low to the carpet, eye like a saucer. --- This was getting chalked up to another moment in her life that was just Bloody Weird. She gave Anders her best comforting smile at his touch and let out a breath knowing both parts were alright. Or as alright as it would get. “I’ve never even seen Justice get less, let alone,” she shrugged and gave a wave of her hand. “I’m going to call it magic. Much easier, really.” She gave Anders a look before glancing at Dan. “You’re alright I think.” she looked to Anders again. He had a say too there, and Anders seemed to have questions. And probably answers. To Hawke, Dan deserved a few at least. “And Mother will, quite literally, come down from the Maker’s feet and scold me if I let you go without being a good host.” She smiled at the cat then and held out her free hand. “C’mon you. It’s alright.” And because she couldn’t quite let go of her terrible sense of levity she looked up at Dan. “D’you get a lot of ‘where’s my keys’? Or is it more the ‘what number am I thinking of’?” She was a little worried about all the things that floated around in her memory, but she would trust Dan. --- Oh, right, then. Dan wasn’t intruding - that was good. He honestly didn’t mean to put a spirit to sleep and run, it was more that he assumed that they wouldn’t want him around after that anyway. But questions, yes, of course - he could answer those. He settled back, shifting a little to get comfortable. “Uh, yeah - Justice is still in there. He’s just asleep,” Dan said. Or at least, he could still sense that there was a presence in Anders’ head - he wasn’t alone in there, but the problem was, there wasn’t room for two. Dan could probably lock Justice in a box the same way he’d locked away the ghosts of the Overlook, but that probably wouldn’t be doing Anders any favors right now. It seemed a delicate, nuanced situation. As for Hawke’s inquiries, he chuckled a little. “I get both of those things,” he confirmed. “I don’t - really look without permission, though. When I was less trained, I would hear a lot - but I know how to block most of it out now, and listen when I need to. Surface thoughts, that is. The deeper ones, memories, are more personal.” So he wouldn’t be prying there either. “How exactly did this happen?” he wanted to know, glancing at Anders. “The whole...spirit thing.” --- The one-eyed tabby padded into the room, bumping his head against Hawke’s hand, a low purr reverberating through him as he did so. Evidently somebody was relieved at the return to ‘normalcy’. Anders watched the Captain, a very faint smile rising at the fact he didn’t seem permanently traumatised, though he didn’t yet dare reach out himself. The smile thinned at Dan’s question, an awkward hissed breath drawn through his teeth. “That’s… a long story. It’s not usually- we’re not usually quite so distinct, it’s more…” He laced his fingers together, lifting his hands up so Dan could see, before continuing, gesticulating as he talked (the nervous energy entirely human, and stark contrast to Justice’s artificial lack of foibles). “There’s a few points where we disagree, but generally we’re of one mind. Awful pun fully intended. He only tends to…” - another vague gesture, this time waving indistinctly near his temple before pulsing his fingers between clenched fist and stretched wide, as if mimicking an explosion. “Well, all that, what you just saw - which, you know, sorry about that, it wouldn’t be my first choice of introduction - when there’s something really Wrong, something I’m not equipped to handle.” Anders sighed, pinching his brow. “Which is all rather more what than how, isn’t it? Sorry. Right. So, the how is that it felt like a good idea at the time.” He glanced over at Hawke, inclining his head slightly in an invitation to take over the story, if she so wished. ---- “Don’t tell your brother I’m such a sucker for your kind, he’ll never let me live it down,” Hawke gave in a gentle tone to the cat as she petted it, before gently nudging it towards Anders. He seemed like he could use the cat snuggles more. It was better than asking if Justice could get a time out button, which would be terribly cruel. She nodded at Dan’s words, “must’ve been kind of hard, hearing everything.” She couldn’t really understand, but she could sympathize. When Anders gave the okay she relaxed more and leaned back into her seat, crossing her arms again. “I only know parts, Justice happened before we met. Apparently, Justice got more or less stuck in someone who, well was kind of dead.” She spread her hands because she had no idea how that had happened. She’d met plenty of possessed corpses, but it hadn’t been the same. “He didn’t know how to leave, but decay still occurred. Eventually, he had to go elsewhere and there was no real answer to the question of ‘do I go back to the Fade’. So that’s where the ‘it felt like a good idea at the time’ comes from.” She was being somewhat vague, because it wasn’t all hers to share. “Generally, Justice will listen to me. Pretty sure he thinks my name is Distraction but I’ll take it. Still, I’m grateful.” Especially because she’d had a feeling Justice would have been lingering for a bit. She rose then and walked to Anders, going to kiss his temple. “You should have something to drink, and try to eat a little.” Her tone was full of love and concern, and while the first dropped when she turned to Dan the latter didn’t. Dan was part of hers now. “You too.” --- “A lot of things happen like that, don’t they?” Dan smiled wryly. “When it...seems like a good idea at the time.” For him, it had seemed like a good idea to take Billy out into the middle of Bumfuck, USA, down the road a piece from a random cornfield, and have him help Dan dig up the dead body of a little boy who didn’t deserve the fate Rose and her family decided upon for him - and then a good idea to just shoot Rose’s family to death after luring them into a trap. But it hadn’t really ended well. It ended in loss, and an ache Dan still felt - it fell and fell, past eighty stories by now, never to hit the ground. He’d just have to deal with it, like anything else. The fact that Hawke was offering something to drink, and eat - it was nice of her. He could see why her and Anders were good together (and Justice was apparently the awkward third wheel, but anyway). “Water’s fine,” he said, since he didn’t want to have to turn down wine or a beer or something. “I - thank you. Whatever you think is best.” It wasn’t often that someone wanted to look out for his well-being. “And I may not really get the whole thing here, but I know spirits and the power of the mind and - if you two ever need anything, help with anything at all, I’ll be around.” --- He tensed slightly, as Hawke nudged Captain towards him, expecting the newest member of the household to bristle or hiss or flee; Maker knew Anders wouldn’t have blamed him for it, after having had to face an angry fade-Spirit so soon. When that didn’t happen he reached down to scoop the cat up, setting him in his lap and idly scratching behind the creature’s ears. For all he’d initially protested that this wasn’t his cat and he wasn’t going to get attached to anything native, it was inevitable that the beast would worm its way into his affections. “That’s not-” - he stopped himself mid-protest (or rather, Hawke’s lips against his temple did), exhaled, tried again; they were supposed to be building bridges here, not barricades - “I mean, thank you. Same. You know, if you ever need the Champion and her pet disaster for anything. We’ve coffee, if you’d rather that? I think the Inquisitor helped herself to anything more interesting.” Anders sighed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m still not convinced it was ever a bad idea. Justice was - is - my friend. He’d told Aura she could have Kristoff’s body back, once the darkspawn were dealt with, and… you know, I thought this would be better than another corpse, or - Maker forbid - someone who wasn’t willi- who didn’t know what they were getting into. We were going to make things better.” --- “Hey,” she gave gently, going to set her hand on Ander’s cheek. “No one’s blaming you here.” Least of all her. She wasn’t a mage and thus she’d be unable to help Justice in the same way as Anders had, but honestly she’d still have done the same. It would have probably ended worse, but she understood the gesture. “Kristoff’s at rest, and look at how far we’ve come so far. There’s a Divine who’s not actually terrible, with an active interest towards the cause. Don’t discount that. Both of you helped.” It hadn’t been the easiest, or even the best, road, but it had been a road. “And you’re not my pet disaster. You’re just mine.” she gave fondly. Anders had a tendency to do that, to cast himself into a lesser light. She nodded then and would go to release Anders. “Alright I have soup. It’s not Orana’s but it’s edible.” With that she would leave the room, somewhat sure the two would follow. --- Dan wasn’t exactly convinced this wouldn’t end in disaster, Anders sharing his mind and body with an ornery guest who was very dedicated to the idea of justice (which was nice in theory, but could also swing way the hell back around to blood and murder real quick), but what the fuck did he know. It wasn’t entirely his business, and all he could do was be there. If they needed him. “Well, I’m sure we can just take it one day at a time,” he noted. “Learn more about what keeps us here. And soup sounds great - thank you again.” Yeah, Dan would definitely be following. If he was going to stay in this city himself, he was very open to the idea of not hermiting alone. So, soup it was. And coffee. Plenty of that too. ---- Anders shot Hawke a look - the kind that said that he was blaming himself enough for the both of them, thanks; the costs paid had all been necessary, right, justified, but that didn’t make bearing them easy - before turning his attention back to the good Captain, running his fingers through the ginger fur, adding only “It was her father’s soup. Old family recipe, apparently.” He wondered, vaguely, where Orana was now. If she’d ended up at the Rose, or in Darktown, or left Kirkwall altogether. It wasn’t a pleasant line of thought, dwelling on the collateral damage the rebellion had caused to the rest of their crooked and cracked little family, but it was better than the silence, Justice’s absence still being Beyond Weird. Maker knew he didn’t need much of an excuse to become maudlin. Anders sighed, shifting Fuzzbutt up onto his shoulder (the Captain voicing a brief, irritated ‘mraow’ of protest at losing his comfortable lap-shaped perch) before pushing himself to his feet and glancing over at Dan. “Right. Come on. I’d give you the grand tour but… there’s not a lot more to see, really.” --- “I had a mansion once,” she gave in a wistful sigh, being her usual self. Which was more or less ‘make bad jokes’. “Now that would be something to give a tour about.” She’d filled it with noise after her mother’s death, mostly to drown out the metaphorical ghosts. Despite everything she wasn’t too sad not to see it. She’d always want it, for her mother's sake, but she’d never step foot in it again. “But at least it’s not Gamlen’s.” Dan wouldn’t have a reference, but she knew Anders had seen her uncle’s place. She set about heating the soup, not terribly hard really, and took out some bread. She also started the coffee. For as much as she portrayed herself as ‘I hit things’ she was clever and had worked out the various devices. The manuals had helped. “So, Dan. Do you play cards? Back in the day we used to get together, every week, and play them. Varric used to host.” she smiled, missing the one other person save Anders she’d known the longest, outside of blood family anyway. “So I’m doing it now. You’re welcome to come. I swear I’ll teach the actual rules.” --- The scent of coffee percolating was a balm to most any wound. Something about those roasted beans, and Dan found himself relaxing thoroughly. "I haven't in awhile - " Unless you counted solitaire by himself, at work, when he'd tended to his orderly duties and was left with just a fluffy white cat for company. Then again, he didn't think that actually counted. "But sure, count me in. I'll do my best to learn the actual rules." It would give him something else to do in addition to working the graveyard shifts here, and he liked the idea of making friends. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all, this whole afterlife thing. |