driftfleet | attempt 001

Who: Anders
Broadcast: FLEETWIDE VIDEO HIT IT
Action: SS Golden
When: 2/14, not long after shuffling WE ARE BACKDATING THIS MY FRIENDS

[He surprises himself when the feed clicks on easily enough. It's unsettling, but at least it's simple. He can bury the unsettling parts.

Those of you who are familiar—or who have had enough introductions to become familiar—might recognize the striped grey and blue of a Grey Warden uniform, with its high, studded collar, and the curled griffon on the shoulder.

Anders is, for his part, smiling broadly.]

So! Now that I've gotten through the "manhandled into a tin can" bit, closely followed by the "manhandled into a slightly smaller tin can" bit, I thought I'd take some time to say hello. Is everyone comfortable? Because I am not, thanks for asking. [beat] Does it ever bother you how terribly one-sided this is?

[Let him talk and he'll talk. Congratulations on being the captive audience.

Right, back on track.]

Now, I don't usually mind a bit of manhandling, of course, but even I have some standards. It was all terribly anticlimactic. Hardly a kidnapping at all, really.

Anyhow. [with a bit more grandeur:] I believe introductions are in order, don't you? I'm going to eat this [he lifts the little dessert cream in a toast] so you go first.

[Ready: go.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It hurts a little, but to be honest, Varric is a bit... conflicted. He wants nothing more than to just go off on Anders for what he did-- but how can he hold him responsible for something he doesn't remember? Something he hasn't experienced? This is Anders when he was a Grey Warden. He's... different...]

I see you've met the elf. Believe it or not, you two managed not to rip each others' heads off for about ten years. It's just... he's sensitive about magic. And-- no offense, but in the future?-- you have the tact of a drunkard at an Orlesian party.

[In the absence of Hawke, that means he's going to be stuck doing the mediating.]

So... no murdering, got it? No setting him on fire, not even a little.

I'm sorry. [A small, incredulous laugh.] Are you— warning me not to attack him? Because from what I remember, he was the one with the distinctly murderous lean in that conversation. I'm perfectly content to never see or speak to or catch any sort of whiff of him again, thank you very much.

[beat]

Also, I'm offended that you think I don't have the tact of a drunkard at an Orlesian party now.

[He holds his hands up.] Now now, no need to get angry, Blondie. I just wanted to cover all my bases. Believe me, I've talked to him about the murderous lean too.

Anyway, I'm Varric. Varric Tethras. I, uh... [Fuck, he's no good at this. He rubs the back of his head.] I'm sorry about all the future bullshit. It's a lot to take in.

[This conversation is going better, even if that isn't saying much. He relaxes, but only by a smidge. It was easier to dismiss Fenris as a mad, raving lunatic; Varric seems much too level-headed for that, and it makes Anders uncomfortable.]

I never thought I'd actually hear a greater understatement than "broodmothers are kind of ugly," but there you have it. I've found it.

[It's a joke, but a badly told one. Even his ever-present smile flickers.]

... No chance that there's some other Anders that you're thinking of? There's more of us than you would expect, you know. And I'm told I have a familiar face.

[No one has ever told him that.]

[Varric's already figured 'Anders' is a nickname. Because it's a nickname. Who on earth would actually name their kid Anders? That's like naming someone Kirkwaller. No. His expression falters, because he really does wish what he saw to Anders didn't ... ever happen. But that's not how it works.]

Sorry, but I already knew little baby Anders was a Grey Warden. You wouldn't shut up about how much you hated them when we asked you for a map of the Deep Roads.

Here's the thing: this place defies all logic. It's like the Fade but with less fun temptation and more of the mindscrew. There's at least three people here who know me, but I've never met them before. I'm a storyteller but at least I try to make things believable when I pull something out of my ass.

One, nothing about the Fade is fun.

Two, you all keep saying that you know all these— these things about me, except none of them sound like me at all. Here, this exactly: I don't hate the Wardens. They're grim, I'll grant you that, and about as fun to have around as a templar in the dormitories after midnight, but they're at the very least tolerable.

[Translate to: he likes the Wardens, and doesn't understand the suggestion that he might ever not like them. It's not freedom, exactly, and it isn't where he expected or wanted his life to end up, but he is, for the moment, content.

Give him a few more months. He'll hit the turning point.]

Not even the books flying at your face? Or the demon ladies wearing nothing at all? And here I thought the sheltered ones had the dirtiest minds.

[He should... probably be nicer. But he isn't. Sorry.]

I'm sure that'll change. [He clears his throat, then tries to imitate Anders' accent.] 'Those bastards made me get rid of my cat.' And something about how Wardens don't ever really stop being Wardens. It's a lifetime commitment. And you're terrible with commitment.

[It is, of all things, the mention of his cat that causes him to snap. It's such a minor, pointless detail (and untrue, his mind screams at him), but it's a minor, pointless detail that Varric has no business knowing. He knows very well what joining the Wardens meant. It had taken him time to accept, but he expected to die a Warden.

It's overwhelming and unpleasant, and he does what he always does when he's backed into a corner: he disengages.]

Well. [There's a distinctly sour note to his voice now.] Far be it from me to tell you anything otherwise about myself, since you seem to have it all figured out. If it's all the same to you, I'd rather you keep it to yourself.

attempt 001

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