#{ i'm a mage; not a miracle worker. } — [ answered. ]

[freedcmscall]

you know, if you need advice on how to lay low i can give you some."

@savingthrcw

Anders barked out a laugh at the suggestion. Jokes, yes, jokes were the best medicine. He would know, he was a healer by nature and by practice, of course. And laughter always could be counted on to cover up any potential hurt that may have lurked below.

"Oh, and what makes you think I'm terrible at laying low myself?" He let the laugh trail off to a chuckle with a shake of his head. "Is it the fact that Templars seem unendingly able to find me, perhaps? Or the fact that they've been so regularly successful in dragging me back to the Circle, kicking and screaming and wishing I could be anywhere but there?" He bit his tongue. Right, time to stop talking before he said too much, after all. He had always been talkative, sometimes too much so (except for when he wasn't, when he got his new name. She didn't need to hear about that. No one did).

"I'd be perfectly able to disappear into the woods and never be found again, if I needed to. You know, if not for the blood magic that binds all of us poor souls to the whims of the Chantry and its Circles."

[freedcmscall]

“Just lean on me, I’ll help you walk.” from eritvita!

@eritvita

A stubborn shake of the head even as Anders stumbles over his own feet. He's fine, really. Templars have simply been better at watching him, or perhaps he got too comfortable, too confident. It was only a matter of time before his tattered robes were recognised as something only mages wear. It was only a matter of time before his 'walking stick' was too clearly recognised as a staff. They would leave him be soon enough, the good folks of Darktown would never let them get him. He would never let them get him.

"Really, it's nothing." A blatant lie. The healer tested out putting weight on his leg; it nearly buckled under the pressure. Dammit. He reached deep inside, practically floundering about for any sense of mana, but to no avail. Really, whoever it was who decided that templars deserved the ability to strip a mage of their access to magic was a true monster. The attempt to pull forth magic temporarily walled off from his access brought forth a new surge of nausea that he forced down. Best not to get sick in front of anyone, best not to worry Roland more than he clearly already worried.

"Well, nothing I've not dealt with before, actually," he laughs. Laughter is the best medicine, or something. Or humour is the best coping mechanism. "No one laid a hand on you, did they?" Even through his own suffering, Anders always has to put the well-being of others in front of his own pain. It was something in his nature, innate and independent of his practice as a Spirit Healer. Simply it is who he is.

[freedcmscall]

just curious. does any of this make sense to you? ( from emre! also helloo c: )

@fadedpath

Anders huffed out what was close enough to a sigh to count, tucked a hair that had come loose from its tie behind his ear. Well, he tried to, but the blasted strand apparently had a mind of its own and flopped right back in front of his eyes. A suitable visual for how he felt at the moment, at least.

After a quick scowl directed at the inanimate piece of himself, the mage offered half of a smile to Hawke. "Is it supposed to?" A bit of laughter, ever so slightly more than a chuckle, accompanied the question. Anders wasn't sure if it was meant to be rhetorical or not — neither the initial question posed to him nor his own response. It was something, at the very least.

"It's hardly a comment on your ability to explain things. More a... comment on Kirkwall, if anything. Does anything ever make sense here? Really, if I were up against a wall, asked that question, facing freedom or a guaranteed one-way trip to The Gallows if I couldn't answer... I'm still not sure I could answer successfully." A shrug accompanied his words, a shrug which he chose to use as punctuation instead of going any further because really, if he were honest with himself, occasionally he did talk a bit more than strictly was necessary.

"Maybe we try running through it again? Brute force our way into making it make sense."

[freedcmscall]

“I’ll be fine. I think. Maybe.”

@qlasscannon

"Don't be dramatic. You'll be fine if I have anything to say about it."

Anders pulled a face at Iggy, equal parts incredulous at his stubbornness and worried about how he was able to simply ignore what his body must surely have been screaming at him. Did that make Anders a bit of a hypocrite? Of course not, for he was a healer, thus it was his job to ensure everyone else was alright. So long as he could function well enough to ensure that, he didn't have to worry about any other aspect of himself, any injuries he ever found himself with could wait until everyone else was alright.

"You know, it would all go faster and be less painful if you'd just let me fix you," he grumbled, but there was no actual malice in his tone. If anything, his tone was playful, light, almost joking, despite the seriousness in his words. He sighed and called upon a wisp from the Fade and pulled healing energy together, again, trying to more gently take Iggy's hands in his own this time. Really, if the man would just use a staff for offensive magic, he wouldn't find himself in this situation. And yet, here they were. Again.

"You keep this up and I'm going to start thinking that you think death is the next great adventure to drag us all along for. Or that you secretly get off on pain localised entirely to your hands." He huffed and shook his head. "Now if you could just try not to yank your hand away when I'm working, that'd be great! I know, big request."

[freedcmscall]

"i'm too good-looking to die this young." from eritvita? 👋

@eritvita

Anders hums quietly in acknowledgment of the man's words, sticking them in the back of his head to respond to in a moment. He's currently a tad preoccupied with sorting out just how injured this man is. Only a moment passes, which Anders knows was likely to have felt like eons to the other man. Pain always makes it feel as if time were crawling forward (except for the times that it doesn't, though it usually does, in his personal experience). Once that moment has passed, he refocuses his magic, the blue glow about him of diagnostic spells, utilised largely to ascertain if there was any internal damage, shifts almost to a more corporeal sort of magic, that for proper healing.

"If you'd like the good news first, I'm happy to say you won't be dying this young," Anders offers, his voice a tad strained — it being late in the day, all of the efforts he has put forth beginning to take its toll on him. Not that that ever stops him; he would rather drop of exhaustion than turn people away (turning away injured persons would be unjust). "The, well, potentially bad news, I don't know what you like to do, is that even after you're no longer physically injured, you're still going to have to rest, at least a day." The man had clearly lost a non-negligible amount of blood. With the assistance of some lovely spirit across the Fade, though, Anders is able to stitch together wounds, working carefully from the inside-out to prevent any risk of infections being caught within and to eliminate scarring.

"Do I dare ask what led to this?" Anders knows better than to pry into patients' lives, but sometimes his tongue forgets to consult his brain before flapping about. Ah well.

[freedcmscall]

tag dump