driftfleet | When We're Rollin Through the Wild Wild West

When We're Rollin Through the Wild Wild West

Who: Everyone! EVERYONE!
Broadcast: IF YOU WANNA
Action: Everywhere! EVERYWHERE!
When: Mid-September - Mid-October

[How's your ship doing, pardners? Is it still pretty damaged? Is it glitching out hardcore? Well, there is one place to land to take care of all that, and that's on a dusty old moon in front of a planet that no one wants to go to. On this moon, you'll find a civilization that looks a lot like one's stepped into a wild west movie, hardened cowpolk and mutant horses and all. Will you become a vigilante, hunting bounties and stopping gangs from doing their dirty work? Will you go exploring planetside, with a cowboy hat and a stalk of wheat in your mouth to complete the look? Good luck with that; there is no wheat. This town ain't big enough for all you flooters, but make it so! For the ratings!

In other words, it's a planet mingle! Get 'er done!]

[September Planet info here]

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[If he were most any other human grabbing at her, Anders would likely find himself zapped into submission for what he's just pulled, but once Jove sees it's only Anders, someone that's been this close to her a number of times before in the past, her shoulders relax and she puts one hand up on his chest to steady him.

Well, them. She is an elf, after all, and he is much taller than her.]

More? Are you certain more is what you need, lethallin?

[He sways back a little on his heels, but her hand is a grounding point, and he manages to stabilize after a few seconds. He doesn't mean to drag her with him, but friendly physicality is in his nature, and she is a good friend.

He swings his hand up to tap his nose conspiratorially.]

Ah-hah. More is exactly what I need. The real question is— [He hovers his mug in front of her, like he's expectantly waiting for her to cheers him.] Are you going to have more with me?

[Anders if you fall on the Inquisitor and crush her to death you're gonna be in SO MUCH TROUBLE.

But Jove keeps her balance, the hand not currently on his chest moving quickly to the small of his back to try to even out how she's supporting him. He's definitely way too big for her and there's no way this can go well.]

Anders- Creators help me, how much have you had?

[She's just going to try to maneuver them to a table, try to get him off his feet before they both die.]

Is that a no?

[He laughs as he goes, stumbling along the way, but he does go, at least, with minimal resistance. He doesn't so much sit as he does fall into whatever chair Jove deposits him in, but at least he's sitting.]

Because I'll be so disappointed. The only thing that's better than another drink is another drink with a lovely woman.

[That's not an answer, but he probably also doesn't know what the answer is, so.]

[She keeps him from flopping straight over at least, and then sits down beside him with a frown.]

I'll have one drink with you if you tell me what has you in this state.

Did you know, people can just gallivant off and— [He takes a swallow of his drink, and his smile collapses briefly beyond just the pinch of alcohol.] It doesn't matter. Nothing to be done, yes? One drink, you said.

[And it's back, the smile, broad and bright as it ever is.]

[Ah. Just like that it becomes clear, and Jove sighs softly a she reaches over to lay her hand over Ander's arm. Hawke's leaving hadn't gone unnoticed, but it seems Anders has been the one most affected by it. And why shouldn't he be? She knows the two had been much more than friends.

Still, if he doesn't want to think about it she won't make him. Instead she reaches for his mug and pries it out of his fingers.]

I did say that, but I didn't say whose drink it would be.

[Excuse her while she drains the last of your drink, buddy. Better her than Anders getting even more plastered.]

Hey—

[He doesn't have the reaction time or the coordination at the moment to stop her, so he just looks on mournfully as the rest of his drink goes down the metaphorical drain.]

When we say share a drink, we don't mean literally, you know. This won't do at all, I need....

[Another. He pats the hand on his arm and then makes to try to stand again, mind focused on the immediate goal of getting himself more plastered. He wobbles, struck by a sudden wave of dizziness and nausea, and falls back into his seat.]

A minute.

And a meal, and a bed.

[Once she sets the mug aside, she waves her hand to gesture for someone to bring them something to eat.

And then promptly grabs for him to keep him off the floor.]

You know this isn't the way to handle this, lethallin.

Lethallin. Lethallin.

[He tries to copy her pronunciation, but it's sloppy and slurred. He doesn't know precisely what the word means, Velanna being his only other experience with the Dalish and her not quite having the temperament for that kind of language, but the way Jove says it, he can make his guesses. He doesn't have very many friends.

He doesn't have a drink anymore to block his mouth whenever he feels like saying too much. The words spill over themselves a bit on the way out.]

I knew better. I know better. I told him, I... [He scrubs at his face.] It was always going to happen this way. What else could I have expected? You can take the mage out of the Circle— [He laughs at his own bitter, angry joke before he even finishes it. The Circle and its lessons, intentional or otherwise, cling to him like a mire. He learned a lot, after Karl.] No, no. There's nothing to handle. It is what it is, that's all. At least this way it's fun, yes?

[Her heart aches for him, but there's so little she can do to mend his own heart. Her hand smoothes over his back comfortingly as he speaks, chair pulled closer so she can comfort him.]

There is no more Circle, you know. You'll have to think up some new material.

[The hand not rubbing a much kinder kind of circle against his back slips into his, giving it a gentle squeeze.]

If this place has taught us anything it's that so much that seemed impossible isn't. You'll likely see him again, Anders, even if it isn't here.

No. No, it would have to be Kirkwall, wouldn't it?

[Ten years of displacement isn't much of a comfort on its own, but it would be much more of one if not for- everything. Kirkwall sits on his chest like a lead weight, hasn't let up since the day she sat him down in that little bar on the moon and told him about what he's really capable of.

There is no more Circle. Because the templars cannibalized themselves, because the mages rose up, because of a rebellion sparked by a chain reaction that started with blood in the streets of Kirkwall.

He'd thought before he could just... stay here. Safe from the templars, safe from running, and the world safe from him. He'd never have to look Justice in the eye again, never run to Kirkwall, never lose himself the way he must have. It had seemed like the perfect solution then, but now....]

You're the only ones. Did you know? You, and the Commander, and— Garrett. [He can count the number of times he's called Hawke by his given name on one hand, all of them (in his estimation) moments of too much emotion and too little restraint, not unlike this one.] The only ones who never looked at me like I was— the dead walking. Now the Commander's gone again, and he's- he's gone, and you... [He scrubs his hands over his face, not quite able to look at her.] Maker preserve me, I've got no idea what you see in me.

Oh, Anders...

[She can't really help the urge to pull Anders to her, arms wrapping securely around him as she hugs him tightly. She's wished so many times since meeting him that she could find a better solution to all of the things he'll have to face in the future, that she could find some way to shield him from it entirely, and that hasn't changed for a moment.]

I see a man that's become my friend, someone I'll defend until there's no more breath left in my body. The others can't see that you're a good man, and that's their failing.

Andraste's tits. [He leans against her, forehead on her shoulder and arms wrapped loosely around her back. He exhales harshly, tries to get a grip on the slippery liquor-swill of his emotions.] Don't say that. I'll cry, and then you'll have to deal with me drunk and crying, and that would just be a disaster, wouldn't it?

[He doesn't know that the others are wrong, when it comes right down to it.]

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When We're Rollin Through the Wild Wild West

i because obviously

smooches

swoons oh no

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