streetwalkers | this is a sad post [Exit Void canon]

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this is a sad post [Exit Void canon]

[He's been here a year -- two, by the turns of the seasons, but only one by actual hours passed, and that's what he's been counting. He could have done it the other way, but -- no. Because he didn't want to reach this day. He's been surviving all this time, and he's been learning to do so without constantly feeling the pain of being alone. He isn't even thinking about home more days than not, and that's a good thing.

And actually, he didn't notice what time had passed, at first. It's several "days" later, in fact, when it suddenly dawns on him that it's harvest time again. At home, it would be harvest time. He's 18 now, and though he wasn't sure that time was going on without him at home, the fact of the matter is that he shouldn't be here on his 18th birthday, or past it. He should be in Glandol, watching his brother's coronation and finally dealing with the remains of the old royals. Finally seeing the biggest threat over. They should be celebrating, and it hits him like a ton of bricks all at once that he's been stuck on this godforsaken island for a year without Hal, and that knocks the breath right out of him.

It's only about a half hour later when he comes knocking at Anders' door, expression dark and with two bottles of wine in hand. It's Hal who's the drinker, not Mao -- but right now he just wants to do something to take his mind off of the emotions that make him feel physically ill, and alcohol and picking at someone who won't try to baby him are the best medicine he can think of.]

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[Needless to say Anders is a little surprised by Mao suddenly turning up on his doorstep, alcohol in hand and a dangerous look in his eyes, but he's getting used to a lot of things here and so only pauses for a moment before pushing the door open further to let the younger man enter.]

Should I ask now, or wait until you've finished one of those?

It's the same either way.

[He has no problem barging in this time -- after this long, the incident shortly after his arrival on the island is beginning to get glossed over, so he's no longer feeling any instinctual panic at sharing a closed space with someone. He's also rather gotten used to the constant status of almost amiable mutual dislike between him and Anders -- much as he disagrees with his ideals, there's a strange level of trust there that enables Mao to drop himself onto the arm of Anders' couch with something like comfort.]

You're drinking too. Unless that's against your moral code?

[Anders closes the door, grateful that Mao managed to choose a time when both his cats were perfectly happy to sleep on the bed, and crosses to stand near the couch.]

Normally I don't, but...

[He can feel Justice's disapproval at the idea; the spirit never liked drinking even before they decided to form their bond and liked it even less when he shared the body that Anders sometimes wished he could get utterly blind drunk again. A distraction from their cause, not to mention a few too many drinks and Anders might say or do something he regretted later.

But Mao clearly wanted, perhaps needed the company, and as much as Anders sometimes wished the younger man might contract an unfortunate throat infection that rendered him mute for weeks, he didn't want to contribute to whatever was bothering him now.]

I'll make an exception. Though I make no promises to how well I hold the stuff now.

[It's only one bottle, he directed at Justice. And I imagine he'll finish the greater part of both. Justice couldn't answer, not really, but there was a grudging feeling of acceptance. He wasn't happy, but at least Anders didn't have to fight him about it for now.]

Do you have glasses? Or shall we just share them as they are?

I didn't find any, no.

[And he doesn't seem to care. He's using the small knife he carries these days to pry the cork out of one bottle, while the other is left to sit on whatever flat table-like surface he can reach.

Hal drinks fine wine out of expensive glasses, not cheap, strong wine straight from the bottle. Hal has his wine brought fresh and poured by a pretty maid, all of whom think he's the perfect crowned prince -- which, of course, Mao agrees with. But he isn't a crown prince masquerading as a king, now. Now, if time is moving without them, Hal should be a real king, openly ruling, and all the maids should have even more reason to fawn over him.

Of course, he could be dead instead. With Mao not there to protect him, Garre could have won. Kait could have snapped. That woman could have proved less pliable and willing to get along than she seemed. A million things could have gone wrong, all while Mao can't watch.

He hates it, and makes a face before starting in on that bottle.]

[Anders watches him and shakes his head a little as Mao starts on the wine, wondering if he should ask for more information now or wait until the other is drunk enough to talk on his own without prompting.

...assuming Mao would get the drunk. Two bottles of wine and Anders not really knowing his tolerance levels at all meant it might not be enough. He hesitated for a moment longer before sliding down into the couch, picking up the other bottle on the way and getting it open with his own knife.]

So, I'm assuming you came here to talk about something in particular and not just to see what I'm like drunk?

[Mao has a certain level of tolerance to natural toxins, that much is true. But this is that musty, just-barely-drinkable wine in large bottles that's not made for tasting -- it's sharp and pretty strong, and all it's good for is a buzz. Plus, alcohol isn't one of the things he usually ingests, so his tolerance may not be quite so high. He's pretty obviously planning on getting at least drunk enough to let some tension out -- if he has to go for more, he knows where to get it.]

I don't care if I talk or not. It's just kind of pathetic to drink alone, isn't it?

[Still, he pauses for a little bit, before half-mumbling. It's probably a really stupid statement on its own, but to him it means a hell of a lot.]

...It's been a year. My birthday's passed.

I suppose that's true enough. Although... [He sniffs the wine a little dubiously as he gets the bottle open.] Should I mention that I haven't really touched alcohol in the past six years?

[It's meant to be a little light-hearted, though Anders isn't too surprised that the effect is short-lived. Especially when Mao gives him at least a little of what's bothering him.]

...not a happy realisation, I take it.

...Yeah.

[He's going to have to be a bit drunk before he goes into detail. It's not that he can't talk about it, or that it's a big secret he needs to keep, here on the island where home doesn't matter. It's just that he knows he's going to get emotional if he tries to put it into words, so he's focusing more on downing that wine at an alarming rate.]

[...and perhaps he should try and keep most of his wits around him just in case Mao turns out to be intent on giving himself alcohol poisoning.

Anders leaves the questioning at that for the moment, taking a healthy swig of his own bottle and laughing a little at the pleasant burn of the alcohol.]

Maker, that's something I've missed. I honestly didn't think I'd ever end up drinking again.

[Fortunately, he's not likely to go too far. He knows what it feels like when his body's reacting badly to something, and he's used enough to emptying his stomach that even if he ends up having to he won't care.]

Why don't you?

I--

[He could lie, but the truth would come out one way or another and it may even help Mao to open up a little.

...or realise how dangerous Anders could actually be and stay away for his own safety.]

Justice doesn't really approve of me drinking. He sees it as a distraction from more important things.

"Justice"?

[Hey, at least he's intrigued. After such a long time, he no longer feels it so necessary to dismiss everything everyone else says. He's loosened up a little, as it were. It's still hard to trust, but he's learned to accept.]

It's something of a long story, although I don't mind telling it, if you're interested.

[He takes another swig of the alcohol and smiles.]

And I suppose this is the right place for stories like it.

I don't mind listening. It's pretty obvious we're in this for the long haul, isn't it? So I guess I ought to get to know you better.

[Anders nods and settles himself more comfortably before beginning.]

Some years ago I met a spirit of Justice and he came to be trapped outside of the Fade. Spirits, they can't survive particularly well without a body of their own, and he ended up possessing the corpse of a Grey Warden that was nearby. He joined the Wardens to help fight against injustices in the world, and we ended up becoming friends.

Back then, I hardly cared a fig for other mages. I'd try to help people if I could, but I was more interested in looking after myself. Justice was the one to point out that I could do more than that and after he did... I suppose I couldn't really stop thinking about it.

Justice, he needed another host. He couldn't keep haunting a corpse forever, and I thought the two of us could work together, find a way to help mages all across Thedas. It seemed like a good idea, and I offered to let him share my body.

...I wish I'd never made that choice now.

So that's what drives you to be more of an insufferable ass than most people with a cause?

[Mao snorts, though it's a rather amiable kind of thing. He's used to Anders after a year, and the banter is as much friendly habit as actual disdain. He still hasn't learned to truly trust, but he's gotten used to certain people, and he no longer feels it necessary to actually provoke those people. He doesn't hate Anders at this point -- they disagree on a lot, and neither will back down on those things, but it's a strange sort of camaraderie now.]

Somehow I'm not surprised.

You're not surprised that I'm possessed by a spirit of Justice?

[He shakes his head, smiling in a tired way.]

Maybe I should ask what you think of me, if that wasn't unusual at all.

I'm not surprised there's something more to it than just your own foolishness.

[Mao shrugs a little, continuing to go through his bottle faster than is really sensible. He's already feeling a little light-headed -- he wonders how Hal manages to drink a slow, steady stream of this stuff all the time. Granted, Hal's wine is the absolute finest of dinner wines, but it's still an ever-present sort of thing.]

What I think of you, though... After a year? I still think you're a self-righteous idiot. I still think you have a pathetic sense of self-worth and you're a hypocritical ass.

But... I suppose you're doing the best that you know how to do. I think most people are, now that I've seen so much of it. At least you have conviction, hm? Not necessarily a bad heart, either.

It's funny... I wouldn't have considered those traits worth mentioning a year ago.

[The answer surprises him, and Anders eyes the bottle suspiciously.]

...are you certain you're not drunker than I thought? [He shakes his head.] You think more highly of me than I imagine I deserve. But... thank you.

Perhaps being here has taught us both something? Even if it keeps us from the places and people we'd rather be around.

That attitude is part of what pisses me off about you, you know. Don't make a show of accepting your own failings if you won't accept your successes, too. That's just unnecessary self-pity. Anyway, I still think you're an ass.

[He's not that drunk, okay? He is getting there, though, which is easy to judge by his more open speech.

He pauses at the thought of the things they're being kept from, though, and his conversational tone shuts down fast, into quiet and unhappy.]

I guess I have learned something.

It's hard to accept something when you're fairly certain the failings outweigh them.

[Of course, Mao couldn't know about all his failings and weaknesses. The things he'd done for his cause because he knew there was no turning back now. He could never go back to the man he was before Justice. The only thing left to do was to see it through till the end.

He frowns and takes another long, deep drink.]

...you still miss him.

Every day.

[His posture withdraws somewhat too, curling in from his habitual sprawl. He's had enough wine and it's settling in enough that he's feeling a bit dizzy, a bit loosened up -- enough that his emotions are showing more. Rather than hide everything beyond a smirk or a disdainful scowl, he's just hiding his face in his knees and generally looking like a mess.]

It was supposed to be over by now. When we turned eighteen, we could officially take the throne. We've been trying so hard to keep it the past five years. Ever since Father died we've hardly been able to breathe without worrying we'd be exposed for liars or just killed outright.

After Hal's coronation, we could sort things out. We could be open and the public opinion would get better, and we could do away with Garre-- with the old royals. I was supposed to protect him til then -- for forever. I'm supposed to be there. We weren't ever supposed to be apart like this.

magerights:

And you lose your purpose.

[The words are quiet, and Anders laughs bitterly afterwards.]

Maker, look at the two of us. Both so certain of everything before, that you'd be there for your brother, while I was certain that I'd be dead by this, my life given gladly for my cause. But now it's been so long, and with no sign of finding a way back home, to the people and things that need us...

I'm no longer certain exactly what I want.

I know exactly what I want. I want to see my brother.

[He's just as bitter, and snapping a little. At the same time, though, his voice is clearly strained -- his chest hurts, and his throat is tight. It's hard, thinking about it. He's spent his whole life, as long as he can remember, dedicated to his country and to taking care of Hal. Other relationships have soured, and that's all he wanted or cared about. He'd never been further away than the distance from one end of the castle to the other, ever. They'd never been apart for more than a few hours. Hell, they shared a bed til they were 13, even when the youngest triplet no longer shared with them.

Even after a year, he keeps expecting to look up and see him, intense in his thoughtfulness, worrying as always.]

Would you give up your cause to live somewhere free of the problem?

magerights:

No. I couldn't, even if I wanted to. Justice--

[Anders sighs, gaze falling to the bottle in his hands.]

He and I are so intertwined now, I cannot ignore injustices around me. The pain of them presses at me, and my anger can in turn unleash Vengeance on those around me. You can no more ask me to give up my cause than to cut off my own head, but the more time passes, the less of me there seems to be...[He drinks deeply again, ignoring the stronger sense of disapproval in the back of his mind.]

I suppose it's like asking you to willingly leave your brother, though at least that was not a curse you created for yourself.

And you can't do anything to exorcise him? No threat meant if he's listening in, but I wouldn't be able to stand it.

[Mao pauses a bit, thinking of that. A curse he created for himself, huh? Well, it was his choice all along, wasn't it?]

We chose our roles. I chose not to have anyone else in my life. But you... are just stupid.

magerights:

No. I brought this on myself, I'm the reason that Justice has become what he is. I will not turn on him or destroy him after everything else. And truthfully, we are so close now, I don't think it's even possible any more. Perhaps when I die he will be freed, but...

[He means to leave it there, taking another drink from the bottle as he listens to Mao, but it turns into a snort of wry laughter.]

Perhaps you're right. I thought I was doing what was best at the time, but... [Anders shrugs, and his gaze focuses sharply on the younger man.] I know how much you care for your brother, but did you really have to give up having anyone in your life? Surely you must be lonely, even before here.

Don't wish death on yourself, fool.

[Yeah, he's drunk. Drunk enough not to make a sarcastic, scathing comment of that. No, he just says it flat-out.]

I wasn't lonely. He's all that's ever mattered. Him, and my duty to him... it never left much time to be lonely. Here is... different. A year alone, with no duty at all... [No, he's too proud to say he's really horribly lonely. But it's obvious enough without being put into words.]

Why? Many would say that I deserve it.

[But that's an argument that can wait until another time, as Mao continues speaking and Anders can understand the deep loneliness he feels tugging at himself as well.]

I can help, if you like. [He says without thinking.] Help you forget for a time, like we used to in the Circle.

Because it's stupid.

[He pauses, when Anders makes that offer. It sounds... fishy, but he still looks up, trying to school his expression into something less pathetic.]

...How?

[It's that flicker of something else - sadness or hope or some mix of emotions that he can't quite put a name to - that pushes him to overcome the doubts and reasons that he can, past the alcohol, vaguely find for this being a bad idea and lean in to kiss the younger man. It's gentle, making it clear this is an offer and can be rejected, but the intention is apparent.]

[Mao's first instinctual reaction is to tense up, to drop his (empty -- whoops) bottle and lift his hands to shove Anders away.

He doesn't even like him. The man's an idiot, hypocritical and self-important and he makes Mao so irritated at times that he should hit him -- but he's also a constant. After a year, there's no one else that's stayed and stayed the same. He can't say he hates Anders, not at all. In fact... well, he's kind of come to appreciate having him around. The banter's become routine, and almost enjoyable.

Maybe that's what it's like to have a friend, but Mao's never had one so he really has nothing to compare it to. All he knows is he needs a distraction and he's not at all virginal and Anders is there and offering and--

He briefly has the thought that he's definitely drunk, before he curls his hands in Anders' clothes and pulls him closer to deepen that kiss. ]

[There's a moment where he wonders himself if Mao is going to push him away, turn and leave without saying anything, leave Anders to curse his rashness and the alcohol affecting him and wonder if he can ever regain what was lost. He is, in a way, attracted to Mao. Not as he was (is, as he doubts the ache for something he can't have will ever really leave) to Hawke, something that burned through him and drew him to the other man with an intensity that promised to haunt his dreams forever, but with a sort of gentle reliance that the younger man will always be there, built slowly over time. Words meant to insult and mock now had lost their sting and were welcome banter that said in their own way that there was someone else there.

Neither really had to be alone any more.

But now there was that sickening moment where he thought he might have ruined that as well, then suddenly Mao's hands dragging him closer, Anders' mouth opening with surprise as he fell forward enough that he had to brace himself on Mao's side of the couch to avoid collapsing entirely on the other man.]

[Mao's selfish and a brat, so he doesn't care if Anders falls and ends up looking dumb. It'd give him a laugh, anyway. But kissing in a way that makes it obvious he knows what he's doing (even if it's been awhile now) is just as satisfying, and after a few moments he breaks it off to chuckle against Anders' lips.]

You know, I've only kissed pretty girls before. You wouldn't look good in a maid's uniform.

[Anders laughs as well, relieved that Mao hasn't pushed him away. Hasn't left.]

Well, I did used to have to wear a robe all the time, if that counts for anything.

[His smile is short-lived, however, turning to concern quickly enough.]

You've never been with men before?

Nope. Can't say it's never occurred to me, but, well... only in one case.

[What he isn't saying is that the "one case" may or may not be his brother. But that's not important. He doesn't look too nervous about the idea, though -- because he's not. Whatever happens, he'll figure it out.]

But you have, haven't you?

[Anders nods at the question, never ashamed of his past there.]

In the Circle, we apprentices had ways of... distracting ourselves from our lives and the constant threat of the templars. My first was an older mage named Karl, though it was hardly a single occurrence.

I've always cared more about the person, not what their body looks like. If you really care for someone, that shouldn't matter, don't you think?

Maybe to you. There's only one person I've ever "really cared for". It's just fun to fool around when someone attractive is willing.

[And that's just the truth. He's not putting emotional attachment into the girls he sleeps with at home. He's just messing around, just passing time and having fun and earning his gossip privileges.

The only one he's ever cared for would probably never sleep with him, so it's better to separate "feelings" from "fucking".]

[Anders snorts, shaking his head and reminded of himself when he was younger, when it was easier, safer, not to allow feelings to enter into things.]

A distraction, yes. So, am I to take that to mean that you find me attractive?

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this is a sad post [Exit Void canon]

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COPYPASTA OF TAGS THAT DIDN'T IMPORT: PART 1

COPYPASTA OF TAGS THAT DIDN'T IMPORT: PART 2

COPYPASTA OF TAGS THAT DIDN'T IMPORT: PART 3

COPYPASTA OF TAGS THAT DIDN'T IMPORT: PART 4

COPYPASTA OF TAGS THAT DIDN'T IMPORT: PART 5

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