[Anders listens and an image forms much too clearly in his mind. He didn't know Gilia, but he knew the others involved. Mostly. The Jacob he'd known had come and gone, but he remembered their walk on the beach, the talk of when it was right to fight and that sense of goodness he carried. He also remembered stepping into a bar as Jacob was defending a submissive from some dominant in the down and Anders needing to step in and lie and claim him as his responsibility before guards could be called. He couldn't imagine this Jacob was any different even if he didn't have those memories. He could imagine him trying to find the goodness in someone and defending those who might need it.
And Tim Stoker...might need it as much as he needed a swift swat on the head. He didn't handle things well, but he wasn't typically cruel. The worms, Sasha, other things Anders knew Hawke knew about but they agreed not to talk about. He had cause, yet he also wanted to learn about magic and understand instead of simply shutting everything out.]
All these strings and you're caught in the middle. [It's sympathetic, but not dismissive. He pressed a bit more mana into panacea to strengthen it.]
I know a bit about Tim's situation, though my partner knows more, he had reason to be inside Tim's memories and what he saw has lingered with him as sure as if he'd experienced it himself. There seems to be quite a mess around Tim's feet, largely his own doing and frustratingly not without reason. You're worried for all of them and wish to help them all but don't know where to start or what even to do to help, am I right?
[ He hadn't quite picked up the tea yet, but his gaze was fixed upon it intently. This wasn't sorrow. This was fury, rising up like bile in the back of his throat, fury that he had to swallow down and continue to hold in check. ]
The way it manipulates people, twisting our vulnerabilities back against us. Setting us against one another, and for what? To then 'punish' us for public amusement, and to say that it is justice. That we deserve this. And we have to live by that. Obey and live by this twisted morality, or risk worse happening to those we care about.
To decide between being tormented for sport, or to concede to spare others that suffering. That's the only choice we have. If there were any true justice here they would--
[ His fingers tighten in front of him, teeth suddenly clenched for a moment as a flare of pain shot through him. A warning. No. Better not to give voice to that particular thought. ]
...my apologies. My emotions got the better of me.
[He watches Anduin, watches his head bow under things Anders can't see, but he can hear them and, through that, feel them because he knows them all too well. It's suddenly stark and jarring, the realization that he's sitting in Cullen's chair while Anduin fills the one Anders had sat in back in September. He'd been so righteously angry, one act of rebellion, one plan that should have been successful -and partially was minus their being caught- and Anders sat with condemnation on his hands and a punishment over his head that would see all three of his subs punished too. 'The Dominant will prove he knows how best to treat a Submissive and how to put them in their place.'
In their place, he'd needed to find his and Cullen had done that. Haven or his desire to rebel. Where will all the subs we help be if you undermine this hospital? I can't let you hurt what we do here.' A small pocket of rebellion in offering free services to those who have no way to pay for them and a safe haven for those who might be abused by a system that doesn't care about their rights.
At least Anduin seems to have a better hold over it all than Anders ever did even without Justice.
He reached across the desk to place his hand in front of Alaric. his head ducking a bit to try and catch Anduin's eye.]
You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, please don't.
[He let that linger first, it needed to stand own.]
I know better how you're feeling than you realize and I am endlessly sorry you have to suffer it.
[But he did have to suffer it.]
I have two things to tell you and I would rather they come with context behind them. May I tell you something about myself? Something from before I arrived in Duplicity?
[ It's not a surprise, hearing that from Anders. So much of him seems woven into this place and this cause, as if it's the only thing they have any say over. The only way to give them any power to care and look after the people here as they deserve. Of course he understands. If anyone here could, he would expected it to be his fellow healer.
As that hand rests on the table in front of them, Anduin quietly lifts his gaze, jaw set tight as he attempts to work back everything that had threatened to spill out of him, a venom he'd not felt so deeply in a long, long time. ]
...of course.
[ There's a quiet, desperate hope that it will be enough to quell the frustration and anger roiling behind the normally gentle monarch's expression. Something that will answer the question burning in his mind.
[There's so much in that look and suddenly Anders isn't sure he can offer what Anduin needs to hear. Who was he but a man who fought a system for six years, writing letters like his hands were on fire, requesting audiences never granted, nearly begging for anyone to listen without a single ear turned his way. All for it to end in a fire blaze of desperate need to be heard. A spark that started a rebellion that he couldn't even be sure had been worth it in the end, not yet. He didn't know how the story ended, he didn't know if he had the hope to offer that his young friend needed. Still, he had to try.
He brought his hand back to rest in front of him, but kept Anduin's eye as he took a moment to bolster the hesitation in him. He'd told this story to maybe three people here, and only one of them with this particular detail, it didn't get less personal.]
Back home, mages are persecuted and feared for their magic. The Chantry -our church- teaches it is a curse and lock us up for it, then station jailers who the Chantry also abuse to watch over mages, often resulting in cruelty and abuse from these jailers in turn, sometimes to the point of breaking laws. I was fortunate enough to escape this system and, in doing so, came across a spirit of Justice. Spirits in my world are separate beings as opposed to ghosts as some understand them to be in other worlds, but they embody virtues like Love, Faith, Compassion. Justice wished to help me and...in a moment when I might have otherwise died to a cruel betrayal, he saved me and merged with me.
For over a decade, I was possessed by this spirit of Justice, though I largely held control throughout, though I lost that control on a few occasions. It was a mistake, one I would change now if I could, because it hurt us both, but while he was in me it made it...impossible to ignore these injustices around me. I had to act, had to see change brought about. I fought a system that refused to listen to me even with proof their own laws were being broken; no one who could do anything cared or cared to hear. When I was first taken from my world, before Duplicity, I met someone who was able to separate us: it was his entire job, to separate spirits from those they possessed. He took Justice out of me, but that drive that anger is still in me. Most of it was mine, but part of it is the absence of him. When I see some of the things happening here, some of those punishments-
[Heat rose in his voice, that deep bloom of magma-like rage that threatened to choke him. His hands clenched and he breathed, steady and long-practiced to bury it again. Anders' eyes closed a moment, but opened again and he could feel the phantom cracks of fade power that might have been there once but didn't break his skin now that there was no Spirit to cause them.]
It's unbearable, please believe me when I tell you I understand better than some, maybe better than most. If it hurts you as much as I think it does, then you have a choice to make. Maybe you've already made it subconsciously, but it needs to be made consciously as well...maybe even every day you wake up. You have to decide how you're going to fight in this place, because you can't choose every avenue, some of them are mutually exclusive. I know...many people who fight many ways and you have to find the one that best fits who you are and how you'll be able to face yourself in the mirror.
[ The trappings of Anders' tale are unfamiliar to him -- the Chantry, the systematic oppression of mages, the merging of spirits -- but everything else rings tragically familiar. Anders has lived with this feeling for far longer than he has, far more intimately. It's not a competition, but it speaks to the hardships he's endured in his life, and the wisdom he must have earned from having come this far.
Though Anduin had witnessed hate, oppression, suspicion, and abuse...that was not the life he'd lived. Even as a prisoner of war, he'd not known a fraction of the horrors that others endured on a day-to-day basis. Only now has it become more than principle, but deeply personal.
He knows in his heart Anders speaks true. He must be better. He has to maintain this course no matter how difficult it proves, no matter how his spirit rallies against what he sees in front of him. The most vital battle must be against himself, and the stirring dark in the back of his mind.
In the face of corruption and wickedness, he cannot falter.
The blond exhales quietly, eyes lowering to the tea in front of him once more. ]
I know you speak truly. I will do what good I can, where I can. That is all I can do without endangering those I love.
[Anders nodded a bit and his eyes fell from Anduin like they were unworthy to stay there. He hated this. Hated the need for this conversation, hated the need to tell Anduin he had to choose between loud and angry and quiet and scheming. He hated that he felt like he'd just stepped on the fire in Anduin and told him to quell it no differently than Anders did his own. Anduin should be angry, he should be righteous and passionate and firm, he had every right to that.
And yet he felt those manacles on his wrists no differently than Cullen must have the morning Anders spat righteous anger in his face and the commander stared him down and told him to make a choice. The same Choice Cullen made, the same chains, the same decision. The people you help day-to-day, small rebellions to tide over until something larger, helping people who might not have help tomorrow? Or larger rebellions, larger fires that could whip back and burn those around you as well, would burn those around you. 'Of course they used your submissives against you, Anders' Cullen's words were a brand in the back of his mind and usually the first thing he reached to when that push to do more nearly choked him.
But maybe that was something he could do for Anduin that Cullen...likely felt he couldn't, not at that point in their tenuous relationship. He looked up again and reached out, palm up on the desk in front of Anduin.]
You have to make that choice, but that doesn't mean you have to carry it all on your own nor all the time, either. My door, literally or otherwise, is always open to you, whether it's to vent about the injustices, a need to find some small thing to do, or the need for a distraction for a bit. I'd sincerely and truly be more than happy to help you. [He shook his head a bit.] Even if it's not me, find people you can confide in, people who you trust to hold that anger and frustration for a few moments while you catch your breath. They're who will get you through this, far better than your own conviction, no matter how strong it may be.
[ Anyone else, and he might have accepted the offer, thanked Anders for his time, and been on his way.
But Anders had seen something few others here had. The mage had been witness to the truths his shadow drug to the surface during its time in his body. The things he refused to allow himself to consider but which lingered, growing clearer and stronger now that they'd had a taste. He'd been able to turn away at least one of those miscreants who'd meant Gilia harm, using the void.
If one truly wants to make the world a better place, it must be fought for. Some only understand the demand for justice when it is written in blood.
...you might already know that. Don't you?
He could leave it at that. Instead he meets Anders' gaze once more, unwavering but somewhat strained. ]
[He studied Anduin's face a moment, the strain, there...the unspoken shadow in his eyes. Something far too familiar, like that day he'd taken Anduin home with him.]
You fear what might come about in you because of it.
[What lengths maybe be reached when desperation and power and opportunity mixed and 'Maker, you're the only one who can do anything, no one is listening, no one is left-]
[ Silence follows. It isn't a question, after all. It's the quiet contemplation of where this path might lead, if he allows it.
But he can't allow it to. He can't let himself go down that path, even with the best of intentions. It's too easy to slip, to go further than he means, to start excusing more and more in the pursuit of what is just and right, and his history -- and likely Anders' as well -- is littered with examples of what happens then.
Anduin lets out a breath, eyes sliding shut for a brief moment. ]
It was not my intent to trouble you with this. I know what has to be done. The Light will not lead me astray.
[ He needs to...to pray. Perhaps that will help. ]
[No. No that is too familiar and he can't sit there and watch it.
He stands and moves to the other side of the desk to put his hands on Anduin's shoulders and regain his attention. He holds the gaze when he has the younger man's eyes matched to his.]
Please...for the love of the Maker-the Light- whichever...don't tell yourself your troubles are too much or not meant to be shared and certainly don't think I am not willing to share them.
I understand...and in the past, when I thought myself without anyone else to turn to, that was when I made my gravest mistakes...my gravest decisions. You are your own person and likely a better one, if I am entirely honest, but as long as I am here with you, you won't be alone in your corner. Don't....don't let the darker parts of you tell you otherwise.
[ It takes perhaps a moment longer than it should before his eyes lift to meet Anders'. He'd been advised before that his eyes could be too honest, and he's not sure Anders needs to see the anger and frustration roiling behind them in the moment.
But meet his gaze he does. And in the other's eyes he can see that deep well of concern, of regret, and it washes through him in a cool wave, a panacea all its own. Swallowing, Anduin nods and lifts a hand, gripping Anders' where it lay against his shoulder.
I'll be fine lingers on his tongue, but doesn't quite make it out. He's certain Anders wouldn't accept that as an answer anyway. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
And Tim Stoker...might need it as much as he needed a swift swat on the head. He didn't handle things well, but he wasn't typically cruel. The worms, Sasha, other things Anders knew Hawke knew about but they agreed not to talk about. He had cause, yet he also wanted to learn about magic and understand instead of simply shutting everything out.]
All these strings and you're caught in the middle. [It's sympathetic, but not dismissive. He pressed a bit more mana into panacea to strengthen it.]
I know a bit about Tim's situation, though my partner knows more, he had reason to be inside Tim's memories and what he saw has lingered with him as sure as if he'd experienced it himself. There seems to be quite a mess around Tim's feet, largely his own doing and frustratingly not without reason. You're worried for all of them and wish to help them all but don't know where to start or what even to do to help, am I right?
no subject
[ He hadn't quite picked up the tea yet, but his gaze was fixed upon it intently. This wasn't sorrow. This was fury, rising up like bile in the back of his throat, fury that he had to swallow down and continue to hold in check. ]
The way it manipulates people, twisting our vulnerabilities back against us. Setting us against one another, and for what? To then 'punish' us for public amusement, and to say that it is justice. That we deserve this. And we have to live by that. Obey and live by this twisted morality, or risk worse happening to those we care about.
To decide between being tormented for sport, or to concede to spare others that suffering. That's the only choice we have. If there were any true justice here they would--
[ His fingers tighten in front of him, teeth suddenly clenched for a moment as a flare of pain shot through him. A warning. No. Better not to give voice to that particular thought. ]
...my apologies. My emotions got the better of me.
no subject
In their place, he'd needed to find his and Cullen had done that. Haven or his desire to rebel. Where will all the subs we help be if you undermine this hospital? I can't let you hurt what we do here.' A small pocket of rebellion in offering free services to those who have no way to pay for them and a safe haven for those who might be abused by a system that doesn't care about their rights.
At least Anduin seems to have a better hold over it all than Anders ever did even without Justice.
He reached across the desk to place his hand in front of Alaric. his head ducking a bit to try and catch Anduin's eye.]
You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, please don't.
[He let that linger first, it needed to stand own.]
I know better how you're feeling than you realize and I am endlessly sorry you have to suffer it.
[But he did have to suffer it.]
I have two things to tell you and I would rather they come with context behind them. May I tell you something about myself? Something from before I arrived in Duplicity?
no subject
As that hand rests on the table in front of them, Anduin quietly lifts his gaze, jaw set tight as he attempts to work back everything that had threatened to spill out of him, a venom he'd not felt so deeply in a long, long time. ]
...of course.
[ There's a quiet, desperate hope that it will be enough to quell the frustration and anger roiling behind the normally gentle monarch's expression. Something that will answer the question burning in his mind.
How do you do it? How can I? ]
no subject
He brought his hand back to rest in front of him, but kept Anduin's eye as he took a moment to bolster the hesitation in him. He'd told this story to maybe three people here, and only one of them with this particular detail, it didn't get less personal.]
Back home, mages are persecuted and feared for their magic. The Chantry -our church- teaches it is a curse and lock us up for it, then station jailers who the Chantry also abuse to watch over mages, often resulting in cruelty and abuse from these jailers in turn, sometimes to the point of breaking laws. I was fortunate enough to escape this system and, in doing so, came across a spirit of Justice. Spirits in my world are separate beings as opposed to ghosts as some understand them to be in other worlds, but they embody virtues like Love, Faith, Compassion. Justice wished to help me and...in a moment when I might have otherwise died to a cruel betrayal, he saved me and merged with me.
For over a decade, I was possessed by this spirit of Justice, though I largely held control throughout, though I lost that control on a few occasions. It was a mistake, one I would change now if I could, because it hurt us both, but while he was in me it made it...impossible to ignore these injustices around me. I had to act, had to see change brought about. I fought a system that refused to listen to me even with proof their own laws were being broken; no one who could do anything cared or cared to hear. When I was first taken from my world, before Duplicity, I met someone who was able to separate us: it was his entire job, to separate spirits from those they possessed. He took Justice out of me, but that drive that anger is still in me. Most of it was mine, but part of it is the absence of him. When I see some of the things happening here, some of those punishments-
[Heat rose in his voice, that deep bloom of magma-like rage that threatened to choke him. His hands clenched and he breathed, steady and long-practiced to bury it again. Anders' eyes closed a moment, but opened again and he could feel the phantom cracks of fade power that might have been there once but didn't break his skin now that there was no Spirit to cause them.]
It's unbearable, please believe me when I tell you I understand better than some, maybe better than most. If it hurts you as much as I think it does, then you have a choice to make. Maybe you've already made it subconsciously, but it needs to be made consciously as well...maybe even every day you wake up. You have to decide how you're going to fight in this place, because you can't choose every avenue, some of them are mutually exclusive. I know...many people who fight many ways and you have to find the one that best fits who you are and how you'll be able to face yourself in the mirror.
no subject
Though Anduin had witnessed hate, oppression, suspicion, and abuse...that was not the life he'd lived. Even as a prisoner of war, he'd not known a fraction of the horrors that others endured on a day-to-day basis. Only now has it become more than principle, but deeply personal.
He knows in his heart Anders speaks true. He must be better. He has to maintain this course no matter how difficult it proves, no matter how his spirit rallies against what he sees in front of him. The most vital battle must be against himself, and the stirring dark in the back of his mind.
In the face of corruption and wickedness, he cannot falter.
The blond exhales quietly, eyes lowering to the tea in front of him once more. ]
I know you speak truly. I will do what good I can, where I can. That is all I can do without endangering those I love.
no subject
And yet he felt those manacles on his wrists no differently than Cullen must have the morning Anders spat righteous anger in his face and the commander stared him down and told him to make a choice. The same Choice Cullen made, the same chains, the same decision. The people you help day-to-day, small rebellions to tide over until something larger, helping people who might not have help tomorrow? Or larger rebellions, larger fires that could whip back and burn those around you as well, would burn those around you. 'Of course they used your submissives against you, Anders' Cullen's words were a brand in the back of his mind and usually the first thing he reached to when that push to do more nearly choked him.
But maybe that was something he could do for Anduin that Cullen...likely felt he couldn't, not at that point in their tenuous relationship. He looked up again and reached out, palm up on the desk in front of Anduin.]
You have to make that choice, but that doesn't mean you have to carry it all on your own nor all the time, either. My door, literally or otherwise, is always open to you, whether it's to vent about the injustices, a need to find some small thing to do, or the need for a distraction for a bit. I'd sincerely and truly be more than happy to help you. [He shook his head a bit.] Even if it's not me, find people you can confide in, people who you trust to hold that anger and frustration for a few moments while you catch your breath. They're who will get you through this, far better than your own conviction, no matter how strong it may be.
no subject
But Anders had seen something few others here had. The mage had been witness to the truths his shadow drug to the surface during its time in his body. The things he refused to allow himself to consider but which lingered, growing clearer and stronger now that they'd had a taste. He'd been able to turn away at least one of those miscreants who'd meant Gilia harm, using the void.
If one truly wants to make the world a better place, it must be fought for. Some only understand the demand for justice when it is written in blood.
...you might already know that. Don't you?
He could leave it at that. Instead he meets Anders' gaze once more, unwavering but somewhat strained. ]
...it is not my lack of conviction I fear.
no subject
You fear what might come about in you because of it.
[What lengths maybe be reached when desperation and power and opportunity mixed and 'Maker, you're the only one who can do anything, no one is listening, no one is left-]
You fear what you may become.
[And where it would leave him after.]
no subject
But he can't allow it to. He can't let himself go down that path, even with the best of intentions. It's too easy to slip, to go further than he means, to start excusing more and more in the pursuit of what is just and right, and his history -- and likely Anders' as well -- is littered with examples of what happens then.
Anduin lets out a breath, eyes sliding shut for a brief moment. ]
It was not my intent to trouble you with this. I know what has to be done. The Light will not lead me astray.
[ He needs to...to pray. Perhaps that will help. ]
no subject
He stands and moves to the other side of the desk to put his hands on Anduin's shoulders and regain his attention. He holds the gaze when he has the younger man's eyes matched to his.]
Please...for the love of the Maker-the Light- whichever...don't tell yourself your troubles are too much or not meant to be shared and certainly don't think I am not willing to share them.
I understand...and in the past, when I thought myself without anyone else to turn to, that was when I made my gravest mistakes...my gravest decisions. You are your own person and likely a better one, if I am entirely honest, but as long as I am here with you, you won't be alone in your corner. Don't....don't let the darker parts of you tell you otherwise.
no subject
But meet his gaze he does. And in the other's eyes he can see that deep well of concern, of regret, and it washes through him in a cool wave, a panacea all its own. Swallowing, Anduin nods and lifts a hand, gripping Anders' where it lay against his shoulder.
I'll be fine lingers on his tongue, but doesn't quite make it out. He's certain Anders wouldn't accept that as an answer anyway. ]