#finally finished last specter and am now on to miracle mask

[ailius-suffers-through-art]

more memo pad doodles

[silent-of-spirit]

@pikestaff who requested the feathermage for Roman AU. Thank you for prompting and helping me to flesh out the world some more. SO excited to go more in depth after the drabble event is done this week! I hope you enjoy this, darling <3

Anders sighed, closing the door gently behind his last patient for the day. He leaned his forehead against the rough wood, his eyes sliding shut. Maker, he was so tired. It seemed as though every day there were more to treat- more slaves escaped from Tevinter, more poor, more hungry, more injured in the skirmishes outside of the city. Each day was growing longer, and each day the spare beds in the house he used as a hospital were full. He was near to bursting, even going out to get hay and blankets to make pallets on the floor for the patients he couldn't see leave yet. That there was space left at all was a miracle.

Tevinter was pressing ever harder against the city, and yet Arlathan deigned to ignore it, instead adopting more of their customs and entertainment in an effort to abate the assault. With their new indulgences, the lower people of the city were steadily more forgotten- and the greed and arrogance of the upper class was beginning to rival that of Tevinter's. Everywhere he turned, he saw more corruption.

The wet cough of one of his stay-in patients shook him from his thoughts, and he pushed back off of the door to tend to those in his care. It was a few hours later when he had finally finished, seeing his charges tucked away and sleeping soundly. He tried to blink back his own exhaustion, much more still to do. He placed a jar of elfroot up on one of the shelves before trudging to his little room on the side of the house. He sank into the small chair at his weathered desk, the papers blurring in and out of focus. He sighed and rubbed his eyes irritably, not even looking up when he heard the shuffle of feet in his doorway.

“We're closed.” He said listlessly. “If it is not life-threatening, I would kindly request that you return tomorrow.” He looked up with furrowed brow as the door swung shut, narrowing his eyes at the shadowed figure that now leaned against it. “I said we're closed.” He spoke more firmly, sending magic thrumming through the air in warning.

“I'm looking for something.” The shadow spoke, its voice taking on a strange quality. Voice charm perhaps? “I was told you can help.” Anders looked at the specter with suspicion, trying to assess what little he could from where it lingered. The shadows were too deep- he had forgone a candle before sitting.

“I suppose that would depend on what you are looking for.” He said carefully, pushing himself to his feet. The shadow adjusted, crossing its arms. He couldn't even see the glint of its eyes in the darkness. It was unsettling, and he absently reached for his magic, as if testing that it was still there to be made use of.

“I'm looking for a spirit called Justice.” It said. Anders swallowed nervously, absently clenching and unclenching his fists. A shaky laugh escaped him and he turned from the shadow.

“And you were led to me?” He asked. “One would think that you had to only ask the noble houses. Most of them keep spirits as pets.” He spat in the dirt, the sentence leaving a rotten taste in his mouth. These people had no respect for anything other than themselves.

“I am not exactly on friendly terms with the nobility.” The shape said quietly, stepping into the sliver of moonlight his high window provided. His nostrils flared in surprise, his eyes widening imperceptibly. The figure was clothed in dark leathers, a thick black cape draped over its shoulders. They were hooded, a dark mask also lingering beneath to cover their face- but that was not what drew him. It was the clasp on the cloak, the symbol on the belt.

It was the symbol of Shartan and Andraste- the elf's sword resting upon the bright sunburst of the martyr- a symbol of revolution, banned by Tevinter for what it implied and reminded.

“It is not often I have such distinguished company, Herald.” He said with a small, breathless laugh. The tension melted from his muscles all at once, and he leaned against the wall opposite the vigilante.

“You are doing good work here. Are you aware of how much you aid the cause by doing this?” The Herald asked him.

“My intent is to help where I can. I will do whatever it takes to halt tyranny. No one should live in chains and fear.” He crossed his arms. The herald inclined their head.

“Justice?” They asked. Anders smirked, and the room was suddenly filled with blinding blue light, fading slowly to reveal the doctor, eyes and skin shining with an ethereal glow. The herald inhaled sharply, eyes wide beneath the hood. Anders spoke- his voice touched by the presence of Justice.

“How can we help?”