Anders (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
apurrstate) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2016-10-24 02:48 pm
apurrstate) wrote in driftfleet2016-10-24 02:48 pm
[Open]
Who: Anders and Open
Broadcast: Yes (Day after action)
Action: Malum
When: The action takes place a day or so after this happens and the broadcast takes place the next morning
Action
[It hadn't been his first thought to go to the bar. Not even fourth or fifth, but it had popped up eventually. When everything became too much all at once. His clinic was too quiet despite not changing, he was too vulnerable despite not being in any danger. Everything had changed and he hadn't even considered how much until Justice was gone.
Anders went to the only place he could think to go. True, the Space Bar might be a better environment for noise, but Fenris was exactly the last person he wanted to accidentally run into tonight, so Crowley's bar it was. The sound of other people was helpful, at least. And the first drink he basically inhaled helped more. It made it easier to ignore how that persistent hum at the back of his mind was gone, how there wasn't a flux and flow of emotions not quite his own always licking at the edges of his thoughts, how there was only one set of feelings and opinions about everything now left in his head. He'd foolishly tested, half hoping to feel the burst of righteous anger and power as his thoughts drifted to blood magic and the plight of mages and every damn other thing he'd spent the last ten years fighting for.
Suddenly...it was like it had been someone else's problem. Someone else's fight. Like before.
He didn't like it.
He ordered another drink.]
Something strong this time. If it burns my taste-buds into ash, even better.
Voice
[There's a side-effect to drinking. One he hadn't had to deal with in roughly a decade. But, oh, was he dealing with it now. And every time he tried to send a pulse of healing magic into his own head, the hangover he was nursing would just pulse brighter and pang harder and make him think maybe a broodmother would be a blessing right now. It could kill him viciously and in some disgusting way and it would be far kinder than what his head was doing to him.
Perhaps Justice had been doing him a kindness all those years after all. Maker have mercy.
He turned on the broadcast, clumsily hitting video and then voice so a flicker of his disheveled and pathetic appearance can be seen to those who happen to be looking at the time, but then it's gone again and replaced with his voice. Which wasn't really in any better shape.]
Does anyone have any...faster ways with dealing with hangovers? I'd normally take care of it myself but...well, I can't. And thinking isn't too easy right now, so any help would be appreciated. Smartass comments are not, however. Thanks.
Broadcast: Yes (Day after action)
Action: Malum
When: The action takes place a day or so after this happens and the broadcast takes place the next morning
Action
[It hadn't been his first thought to go to the bar. Not even fourth or fifth, but it had popped up eventually. When everything became too much all at once. His clinic was too quiet despite not changing, he was too vulnerable despite not being in any danger. Everything had changed and he hadn't even considered how much until Justice was gone.
Anders went to the only place he could think to go. True, the Space Bar might be a better environment for noise, but Fenris was exactly the last person he wanted to accidentally run into tonight, so Crowley's bar it was. The sound of other people was helpful, at least. And the first drink he basically inhaled helped more. It made it easier to ignore how that persistent hum at the back of his mind was gone, how there wasn't a flux and flow of emotions not quite his own always licking at the edges of his thoughts, how there was only one set of feelings and opinions about everything now left in his head. He'd foolishly tested, half hoping to feel the burst of righteous anger and power as his thoughts drifted to blood magic and the plight of mages and every damn other thing he'd spent the last ten years fighting for.
Suddenly...it was like it had been someone else's problem. Someone else's fight. Like before.
He didn't like it.
He ordered another drink.]
Something strong this time. If it burns my taste-buds into ash, even better.
Voice
[There's a side-effect to drinking. One he hadn't had to deal with in roughly a decade. But, oh, was he dealing with it now. And every time he tried to send a pulse of healing magic into his own head, the hangover he was nursing would just pulse brighter and pang harder and make him think maybe a broodmother would be a blessing right now. It could kill him viciously and in some disgusting way and it would be far kinder than what his head was doing to him.
Perhaps Justice had been doing him a kindness all those years after all. Maker have mercy.
He turned on the broadcast, clumsily hitting video and then voice so a flicker of his disheveled and pathetic appearance can be seen to those who happen to be looking at the time, but then it's gone again and replaced with his voice. Which wasn't really in any better shape.]
Does anyone have any...faster ways with dealing with hangovers? I'd normally take care of it myself but...well, I can't. And thinking isn't too easy right now, so any help would be appreciated. Smartass comments are not, however. Thanks.
no subject
[If it meant never having Hawke for himself or even in his life, Anders would take the opportunity to go back in time and heal Malcolm Hawke's illness, distract the Ogre long enough to spare Bethany, stop Leandra from going out that day...anything and everything to spare the Hawke family and the man he loved so desperately all of that pain.
The blight would have come, they would have fled and Kirkwall would be their new home. With Malcolm there, they would surely be protected from prying eyes and perhaps the red lyrium would never see the surface without Anders' damn maps. At the end of the day, Adalwolfe's life would be better for it and Anders could still do what was needed, if it was still needed in the end.
Karl would still be alive. And Fenris. And Hawke wouldn't keep himself up with fear of losing everyone around him all because he'd lived it already.
Maker, if only.
But he couldn't. In this, he was useless.
Anders shifted and crawled on top of Hawke to straddle his hips and press their chests together. Long arms curled behind broad shoulders and Wolfe's head to cradle him to Anders.]
I know it's a tall order, but believe me instead, my dearest.
We have each other.
no subject
[He surrenders, pressing his nose into Anders' shoulder and curling his arms around to meet at the small of his love's back. Skin on skin and nothing so much sexual as intimate. There's the scrape of Anders' stubble against his temple, the soft rise and fall of their discordant breathing, the general creaks of older bodies in comfortable positions. Normalicy. He doesn't trust it, but he wants to, and he decides to try.]
You win.
[There's a soft laugh playing behind his voice, a helpless expression of surrender that he's happy to take. He feels all the lighter for it.]