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dalishkadan · 3 years

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wip wednesdays

woohoo, so let's go! i was tagged by @dumbassentity, @a11sha11fade, and @noire-pandora, and i'll tag @thedashingcaptainweird, @warpedlegacy, and @varric-tethras-editor! as always, don't feel obligated, and if you see this and weren't tagged and want to participate, consider yourself officially tagged!

here we have some of the next chapter of penance, during which anders mulls over what to do with the asthmatic woman at the crossroads.

Once they’d finally set up camp that evening, it seemed Cassandra had little inclination to move any further. The cult in the hills was perhaps an hour or two away, depending on how the vague descriptions of its location would pan out specifically, but it seemed the Seeker’d had enough of the Hinterlands for the day. As she sat by the fire, cleaning and sharpening her blade, she remarked, “There is little we can do tonight, navigating in the dark will be hard enough. And not knowing what we may be walking into …” she shook her head, “… the risk is too great and we are all too tired. We can tend to it first thing in the morning.”

And with that crisp declaration, it seemed she considered the matter settled, but Anders didn’t. He’d helped ease the poor woman’s symptoms, but he felt uneasy at the prospect of that holding through the night. If only he’d had the proper herbs on him, he could have mixed her a tonic himself, but the Hinterlands didn’t have what he needed. Or, rather, what he knew he could use. Sighing heavily, he leaned against his staff, peering into the darkness as he mused over his dilemma. Not that he’d ever been fantastic at following orders - a fact that had both delighted the Hero of Ferelden and been bemoaned by his Templar keepers in the Circle - but he particularly chafed under this. Though he was this supposed Herald of Andraste, he still felt leashed in a sense, restricted and limited in how he wanted to move and what he wanted to do. But isn’t that how it’s always been? Justice rang in his ear, Following when you should lead. You say you hate it but it’s all you know. Now is your chance to prove otherwise.

“And what would you have me do?” Anders mumbled aloud, staff twisting in his grip as he tightened his grasp.

“Have you do what, exactly?” another voice asked, and he nearly jumped as he turned and saw Solas approaching.

Clearing his throat, he deflected. “Nothing, just …” shaking his head, he added, “it doesn’t matter.”

The Elven mage hummed but didn’t press the issue. Instead, he only said, “Not all spirits are wise. Ones like Justice, especially, can be blinded.” Anders fixed him with a steady stare, daring him to say anything further, to define exactly what he said. He’d never before encountered anyone who could simply tell his situation, but it seemed that Solas wasn’t interested in pursuing that line of conversation either. He asked instead, “You are a healer? You seem quite experienced.”

Nodding, Anders confirmed, “I was one for years in Kirkwall. Learned a bit here and there just growing up in the Circle, but formally I was taught by Warden-Commander Surana.”

“The Hero of Ferelden?”

“You know him?”

“We are not acquainted, no. Regrettable. From what I’ve heard …”

“I wouldn’t listen to at least half of the stories you hear thrown around,” Anders interrupted, remembering well how Lothiriel scowled to hear others talk of him as if he were some Maker-sent prophet - much like he was these days - when in reality he was simply a man. And an Elf and a mage, even, at that, something that Lothiriel himself had pointed out would be used to scorn him before he saved Thedas. What was that he said? “Had I not personally dispatched the Archdemon, they would have hurled me back into the confines of the Circle whilst sneering about my ears. Instead they laud me. Hypocritical sacks of dung.” He chuckled to himself remembering his friend’s seething words, the comfort of his memory a balm, something he wished for once more. He’d always been so reserved and quiet in the Circle, seeing him outside of it was a sight to behold. Freedom had done much good for Lothiriel, and it was something that Anders had wanted for all of them.

Solas smirked, a tiny slight of a thing. “Trust, I do not.”

He snorted. “Oh, your dreaming, then?” Solas didn’t answer, but the way he was quiet, Anders well knew his answer. “What’s it like, watching him?” he asked, his voice soft in wonder.

“Different than what you may think.” He paused, head tilted ever so slightly as if deep in thought before he went on, “I see the heroism, the desperation, the inklings of despair. I’ve watched as he escaped from the Wilds, as he ventured into the Deep Roads, as he both fought and brokered peace alike. From his harrowing in the Circle to the final march on Denerim, his growth in that time was extraordinary. Some of his decisions were a bit … unconventional … but he did well, and for that he should be commended.”

Anders nodded, understanding. The way Solas spoke of him, there was a note of awe in his voice, and yet he didn’t say anything of the like, as if he somehow knew that Lothiriel would hate that. Instead, nothing but quiet passed between them for several long minutes, broken up only by the sound of the wind through the grass and the gentle footsteps of the scouts and perimeter guards. He thought perhaps he should try to retire for the night, but even before he made a move to do so, he knew he wouldn’t be able to. He wouldn’t be able to simply leave the woman for the night, to wait until morning and hope that he could make it to her son and then back to her before it was too late. In his gut, as a healer, he knew this task couldn’t wait.

Whether it was simply chance or if Solas somehow knew, the Elf noted, “I know a bit of healing magic, myself. I find that it connects you in ways to a patient that others will never experience. It … gives you certain insights.” He paused for a moment before he added, “Insights that must be listened to, followed to its natural conclusion.”

He eyed him curiously as his fellow mage moved to walk away. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

But Solas only turned and gave him a slight smile before slipping into his designated tent.

Sighing, he shook his head. It was impossible to get a read on that mage, but then again, it was difficult to do much as the song danced in his periphery, grating on his nerves so that he had to consciously unclench his teeth. Looking between the tent he’d been given for the night and the darkness around him, he took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose, knowing well what he was going to do.

After all, if he was the Herald of Andraste, he was going to bloody well act like it.

#wip #wip wednesday #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #anders #solas #inquisitor anders #andersquisitor

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