001

[viran]

Who: Mahna Lavellan
Broadcast: Fleet-wide
Action: Marsiva, if you'd like
When: Pre-shuffle

[By the time he's sorted out that he's no longer in Thedas, Mahna's patience has all but run out. The silence had woken him and the continued lack of birds chattering or insects buzzing unsettles him far more than he expects. Instead, inane music plays under his strained voice.]

I am Lord Inquisitor Lavellan and it would serve you well to return my companions to me.

[He hates titles, hates formality, but if it gets his comrades back, he'll throw them around as much as necessary. Nevermind that he's in a foreign place where 'Lord Inquisitor' might just as easily put a target on his back. If Corypheus is behind this, he won't run and hide.]

I was traveling with three others and a ram: Dorian of House Pavus, Lady Mai Bhalsych of Korse, The Iron Bull of the Bull's Chargers, and Lord Woolsley of Redcliffe. If any harm has come to them, I can assure you it will be repaid in kind.

Comments

[serpentis]

[Oh.

...ohhhhhhhhh Maker, no.]

I'm afraid I cannot speak to your charms, Inquisitor. This is the first time I've met you.

[viran]

[Mahna goes stiff and he blinks before shaking his head.]

That's not funny, Dorian. [Though something in his gut says that this isn't gentle teasing on Dorian's part.]

[serpentis]

[He laughs softly, without heat, just a bitter scoff.]

I suppose not. You and I must have been good friends, I assume.

[viran]

[Somehow that hurts worse. So, so much worse. He's still holding on to hope that this is a terrible prank.

Unable to find words, Mahna presses his lips into a thin line and nods.]

[serpentis]

[Is it the same case as with Arhen? Dorian feels a sharp pang of regret, that he can't be that type of man, can't give himself over to someone else.

He looks uncertain, feeling suddenly suffocated by the idea.]

...perhaps I ought to leave you be. Do let me know, should you need anything.

[viran]

[All of the air in Mahna's lungs disappears at once. Dorian had said he'd been here for months and---

Dorian didn't know him in the first place, there was nothing to expect---

He shouldn't force his desires on Dorian, or anyone, he can't---]

Leave me be? [That's the last thing he wants, but he's not sure he wants to hear anything else Dorian might say.] No. I...

[He tries to swallow it down, pretend that he's fine with all of this. Dorian doesn't know him, that's fine. He's fine, everything's fine. Is it hot in here? It feels like he's in the middle of the desert.]

How are you? [Nevermind that he already asked that.]

[serpentis]

I am...as well as can be expected.

[There's a rare tone in his voice, regret, and then curiosity creeps in. It's better to know than to not.]

Were you and I...close, in your world?

[viran]

[How does he even tell Dorian? The man doesn't know him, that much has become so obvious.

But, the last little bit of hope in his chest can't be extinguished yet. Mahna sucks in a breath and reminds himself that Dorian is well.] I... We were intimate, if that's what you're asking.

[Fuck, this is so awkward and Mahna would rather not push this topic right now of all times.] But nevermind that.

[Except he doesn't know what to talk about. His brain is too full of error messages.] Last I saw you, you were planning to return to Tevinter. Is that... different from your experience?

[serpentis]

...ah.

[And again, just like Arhen. Dorian has to wonder, for a moment, if that was a commonality- and wonder if he had traded the chance for love for his dearest friend, Jove.

His consanguinea. He wouldn't trade her for anything, he realizes. There were a thousand chances at love- Dorian was not too romantic to believe there was ever only one true love. But there was only one Jove. He doesn't say it, and nor does he think poorly of Mahna- perhaps it's simply that he thinks too highly of Jove.

He regrets many things, but he regrets too that he can't be the person this man needs. In another life, certainly, he would have been happy to get to know him, to possibly love him.

But Dorian gives his heart, and he gives it fully. Fenris has it now, and Dorian wouldn't change that for anything.

But he does regret to be the source of heartache. Dorian was, in his heart, a kind man. Not necessarily gentle, but kind. And so his heart twists slightly when he realizes that he is likely causing Mahna pain simply because he can't be who he needs.

Time and space where kind to him, but unkind in equal measure.]

We had just arrived at Skyhold, in my time in Thedas. You'll find that timelines are...mutable here. I assume that you went into the future with me, in Thedas? Something like that, if you can recall how the timelines twisted and the future was different.

[viran]

[Mutable. Mahna supposes that's the right word for it. Timelines are mutable, and so are people, he finds, though Dorian, Solas, Cole, Cassandra, they all seem to know each other. Perhaps they are the key players in every timeline, but Jove and himself? Replaceable. Just another soul plucked out of their homes to face evil because they were convenient enough to the Maker or the Creators or whoever really ran the show upstairs.]

Yes, I recall. [ He tries to keep his tone polite while he processes everything.

He didn't have to be at the Conclave. He didn't have to be the one to lead the Inquisition and frankly Mahna didn't want to for the longest time. It would be rude to say that out loud, though he had many times before.]

It seems the anchor is more important than the hand bearing it. [Alright so he could have put that much more gently, but he's too frustrated and Dorian had always been someone he could talk to, though that too could be different now.

Fuck, time to backpedal.] Apologies. That was rude of me. I mean no ill toward Jove.

[serpentis]

Oh no, not at all. I don't mean to sound careless when I say that it does seem that the anchor is a fixed point in all of this mess.

[He brings a hand to his chin.]

If only I would figure out why the fuck it was so important. I don't believe blindly in divine providence, mind, but there has to be some reason for things. Perhaps the Inquisitor existed- all of you- because you were needed. Not merely to carry the anchor...perhaps it's more of a symbol of power. You see, the anchor was proof of your being chosen.

[He was rambling now, as he is wont to do.]

The anchor was not what caused you to pick up the mantle of Inquisitor. That type of person cannot be created by a single event. I'm certain that, despite the changes, the Inquisitors were sent to us because we needed them, because they all carried some sense of virtue. Not that you're insignificant, no- quite the opposite. For someone to experience the same thing, to take on such a role in every timeline means they are the opposite of insignificant.

If they are the catalyst for change in that timeline, they must be like something that the timeline warps around. The rest of us are constants. The Inquisitor? Cosmically significant, if the entire timeline is shaped around them.

...curious.

[The hand didn't leave his chin, and he taps a finger against his lips. He would have to write some of this down later- the theories were already starting to coalesce.]

[viran]

[For a moment, Mahna can almost pretend like he's home in Skyhold, talking with Dorian about something he himself doesn't understand. In conversations like these, he would do his best to catch everything, to nod along as the mage talked, but when Mahna inevitably couldn't, he sat back and simply enjoyed the other's company. And yet, Mahna can't shake the foreign sensation snaking through his chest, screaming lost, lost lost with every beat of his heart. He desperately wants to be able to speak intelligently on the subject, but he only knows bare bones from his brief jaunt through time. Something happens at Point A, something else happens at Point B, but it still seems too random, too coincidental than conscious choice. After all, with so many to choose from--- the Hero of Ferelden, Hawke--- why would any deity so much as look in the direction of a hunter who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time?

For now, he will at least attempt to reply in something resembling logic, though he's not confident of it himself.] But you are all connected, are you not? Like... Like a net? If the anchor is a weight placed in the center, any rocks nearby flow toward it. They are not chosen, they are drawn by coincidence.

[Unless the rocks fall through the holes in the net? Alright, so he doesn't understand Dorian's sentiment one bit, but Mahna's far too proud to admit it. He's good at stabbing things, talking to rams, and picking plants. Quantum mechanics, no.]