Participants:

Minea_icon.gif Adeline_icon.gif Bethany_icon.gif Fenris_icon.gif Anders_icon.gif

Scene Title Misfit Toys
Synopsis After the Qunari depart for Hightown, the Wardens tend to their own. And the strays they've picked up too.
Location Lowtown
Date Bloomingtide 30, 9:31 Dragon
Watch For Mama Adie!
Logger Anders

Minea nods, smiling. Lets the shield drop then, let the glimmer and shimmer fade to nothing and relax her hold on her staff. "Does anyone need help? Healing?" Minea speaks this aloud, looking for the ones that were involved in the actual fighting. There's a glance to Adeline before she starts to make her way towards Anders and Fenris, a look of recognition for the latter.

Adeline is just about to tell Minea to see to Anders when she parts in that direction, and Adeline just gives her a nod. She then turns to Bethany. "Bethany, my dear, it may be safest to go home before they can tell the Knight Commander who all was here." She says quietly, placing an arm upon the mage's shoulder.

Bethany returns Minea's smile and then looks around, trying to catch a glimpse of her mother, Carver of Kailen and, thank the Maker, not seeing any of them. They must have gone home. She jumps at the sudden hand on her shoulder then breaths out a sigh of relief to find it's only Adeline. "With what I've seen today I've found someone I'm more afraid of than the Knight Commander." She says to the Senior Warden. "Where can any of us go that is safe so long as the Qunari are here?"

"Come on, mage, get up, you can't stay here." Fenris says, practically growling it, though its out of care. It's no good, though, his hip isn't going to support him with the threat of immediate death gone. Damned Qunari and their damned giant blades.

He was one to talk.

Fenris looks over as Minea approaches, and seeing her approach, he stops his immediate attempts. After a fight like this, the only people that approach that way are healers. He just heaves a heavy breath, cursing underneath, and looks down at Anders, who has more or less wound up with his upper torso in Fenris' lap, and shakes his head.

Adeline offers Bethany a small smile. "Not even the Knight Commander is going to side with the Qunari. Not with her piety. I do not think they will be allowed to stay. Do not panic yet." She says, trying to ease Bethany's mind. It's difficult to do, admittedly, with all the death around them. But, well, perhaps Adeline had just gotten used to death after awhile.

"Is that a please go away or too late he's perished?" Minea asks Fenris as she comes to a kneel beside the pair of them, trusting Adeline to have her back if one of the Qunari return. Slender fingers come to rest on the side of Anders' neck to see if he's still alive. Satisfied that at least there's something there to work with, the staff is laid down to her side. "I see we've found all of ourselves in trouble." Murmured words to Fenris as she sets in to working a spell and get Anders at least to some degree, upright and healed.

The death is surprisingly, not so much of a concern for Bethany. It makes her sad, sure, but the girl is remarkably level headed, and not a stranger to death and combat, unfortunately. "I think the Arishok will do a great many things without Knight Commander Stannard's permission, including stay." Bethany notes before she sighs and shakes her head. "But you're right. I should get home, before more Templars show up."

As he progresses toward something like fuller wakefulness, the downed Spirit Healer begins to shiver, body in a bit of shock - which at this point is only fair. And let's be real, Anders isn't going to complain about ending up in Fenris' lap. It's warmer here and definitely more comfortable than just the stairs. It can't be comfortable on a broken pelvis, though, and though Anders doesn't know much, he is peripherally aware of causing pain and makes effort (weak though it is) to try and stop. Minea's touch makes him flinch; without the reassuring hum that comes with Fenris' skin, he has no way of knowing these new hands won't hurt. Not that he's in any position to argue. Minea's healing magic is calming - something that feels more natural than the clinical basic methods taught at most Circles - but with Anders' current contact to Fenris - and his infuriating stubborn streak - it flows through the mage like a conduit, shaped by a hazy, Fade-flavored Anders will toward those hip and vertebral breaks.

"It's neither." Fenris says simply to Minea, and then just waits. No, Anders' weight on his lap is in no way comfortable, but it's the best he's got at the moment, and he refuses to do nothing. Breathing to keep the pain down, his brow knits, and slowly he begins to glare at Anders. "Mage, so help me, let her heal you or I will break your nose myself." He snaps, wanting none of this funneled healing. At least not yet, he's more concerned with the man who looks like he's near dying. His stupid hip could wait.

"Enough to go around. Listen to him, mage." Minea gently chides, still weaving that spell with a crooked smile. "I have him next, I promise. I'll leave none wanting if I can help it." There's a glance to Fenris, the scroll-work of lines that curl and curve along her cheekbones and over the left brow. Then back down to Anders, those flowers still woven into her hair. Nothing to mark her as a Grey Warden.

Adeline nods. "Go well," She pauses, "Here." She unties a small ribbon from her arm, bright blue like her fletching, and wraps it around Bethany's instead. "Sterling will go with you. If you need him, throw that at someone." She whistles to the bird, a signal of follow, and he alights from her shoulder, watching Bethany from above.

It's unclear just how much of the talking going on around him Anders understands. In any case, the tail end of that spell seems to sink into him and not through him, so that's progress. The flesh on his arms goes cool and loses its angry red color, but the warping and the shiny-smooth texture of the scar-tissue seems entirely immovable. The dislocated shoulder, various bruises and the one crush fracture from the Qunari's weight all restore themselves nicely, but even by the end of it, he's still pale and mostly limp against the elf. Both eyes flutter open and then squint for a moment, finally focusing in on Fenris' face. "M'face's too pretty to break." Of all the things they could have knocked out of him, his terrible sense of humor is apparently the only thing entirely intact.

Bethany smiles at Adeline, looking down at the ribbon about her arm. "I promise not to put him in too much peril." She assures the senior warden. And with that Bethany does what she's become so practiced at: walking away from a magical incident like she has absolutely no business being there.

"Thank you. Simply give him the ribbon back when you wish to send him home. He will find me." Adeline says, and after seeing Bethany off, approaches the set of three. There's a frown at Anders' condition. "Warden Anders. Until the Qunari are dealt with, you will not be travelling the city, or its surrounding areas. Do you understand?" She says. If he's awake enough to be cracking jokes, he's awake to hear and order. Admittedly, however, the Senior Warden's tone is more concerned than anything else.

"Don't test me, mage." Fenris says down to Anders, his ever present deadpan, dry as the desert in the height of summer. Though there is the slightest hint of a smile, a tug at the corner of his mouth, when Anders is aware enough to speak. Looking up to Adeline as she approaches, he watches the Senior Warden for a long moment, though he doesn't speak.

"Too pretty or was it already broken?" Adeline's comment has Minea looking up then back down, setting in on another spell with a bite to her lower lip to get Anders back up to the point that Adeline can deal with him and so she can deal with Fenris.

"Oh, bite me," Anders grumbles back, though it's too fond to have any bite to it. He can feel the gathering energy as Minea prepares her spell and frowns, shifting his arms to push himself up and off of Fenris' lap. "I'm fine, Minea." That's right, that's her name. She was at Amaranthine, too. He'd forgotten. "I just need to sleep, now. Possibly for a year." He leans back on the (decidedly less comfortable) stairs and waves toward Fenris. "Do something about him. He hasn't threatened anyone but me in the last five minutes," he explains, good humor tempered by a voice that still sounds weak and drained. "He must be dying." And they can't have that. Only then, after a long, deep breath, does he feel at all up to facing Adeline. "You should have let it go, Adie. One Warden isn't worth antagonizing the Antaam on behalf of the whole damn Order." Which is 'thank you' somewhere underneath all of the guilt.

"Maker's breath, Anders, you must be fucking joking." Adeline says, "If I let them take you, I've set a precedent to them that they can just do what they like with Warden mages. Not going to happen. If Roarke wants my hide for it, he can have it, but I'm not apologizing." The Senior Warden crosses her arms and stares at Anders. "Not to mention that you're one of the best healers I have ever known," That's an understatement, "So stop thinking you're not worth whatever trouble I deem fit."

Fenris looks very suddenly less amused when Anders moves away. At least the hum had been distracting from the pain. Nevertheless, the elf shakes his head. "No." He says simply, "I am fine." And his tone is very serious. He's not welcoming whatever healing may end up directed at him. And in fact, he even moves six inches back, despite the wince of pain, to be just out of Minea's reach.

"I'm right here, I can hear you." Minea wryly comments as Anders and Adeline have it out. There's a faint roll of her eyes and the spell that was for Anders, now directed at Fenris, then held. "No. You're taking it." A pause. "Please? Just enough to get you out of pain and moving again. After that, you can go." And there it is, peeking out from under her hair, back of her neck, the little woodmouse with it's pink nose. Always somewhere on her person.

"Yes, Mum, I'll be good," Anders intones, but there's real warmth in the tired smile he turns up at Adeline. There's more he's ready to say when the movement next to him catches his attention. There's a period of about two and a half seconds where he looks at Fenris like perhaps a screw's gone loose… and then it dawns on him like a smack to the face and his entire expression goes gentle and apologetic and just a little bit soft. "I am occasionally a colossal idiot," he murmurs quietly before distancing his expression and turning toward Minea, arm already extending to block an attempt at casting on an unwilling patient. "Don't, Minea. It's my fault, I forgot. Don't suppose you've got any processed lyrium on you?" Avert disaster, admit culpability, provide distraction. Essentially the story of Anders' entire life in one small snapshot here. Adeline gets a glance while he waits to see if there is lyrium to be had, but his priorities - irrational though they might be - are set to see to Fenris first. Business second. Himself third.

"You are also one of my favorite healers, Minea." Adeline says, and if the situation weren't so serious she'd likely ruffle the elf's hair. She nods as Anders concedes, and settles herself leaning against the wall. She's not leaving, not until she knows where her mages are going.

That pause where Minea had not yet said please is a tense, heavy, ugly thing. The warrior snarls slightly, beginning to glow once again about his edges, though between his exhaustion and her backing away from the brink of forcing him, it dies swiftly. "Don't be stupid, mage." Fenris says to Anders, pulling his gaze away from the other elf with some effort, "You need to rest, not heal me." Besides, there had been some healing filtered through to him already, before Fenris snapped at Anders to stop. Thus, perhaps out of sheer stubbornness, he pulls himself to his feet.

She's not going to attempt to cast on someone who doesn't want it, hence the request. A glance over her shoulder to Anders and his request though has her dropping the thought process and dipping to a bag at her waist, pull out the two on her person. "I do. Where's yours?" It's like being caught with your pants down as a mage, not having any on hand. Adeline gets a smile. But then she's looking to Fenris, cocking her head and extending out one of the two, resting in her palm, outstretched to see if that's what he'll take instead. That strange and very angry glowing man.

"Hullo, Pot. I'm Kettle," Anders snarks back, the rejoinder gaining a little more snap to it out of the concern that shows plainly on his face. "It's a fractured pelvis, a bruised spinal cord and a few cracks in your tailbone. It isn't going to hurt me." Though how he could possibly know the extent of those injuries without having done more than lay sprawled half over Fenris' lap is not apparent. Look, that's his 'I will make it better so help me, Andraste' face. He looks an uncanny amount like Adeline when he does it. No one tell him. "Thank you." This to Minea for the lyrium, ripping the cork free with his teeth and downing the entire bitter dose in one gulp. "I wasn't going to be here." It's all Maura's fault. That seems to be a theme. But even with that answer - and even with the priceless image of Minea offering Fenris a dose of lyrium - the majority of his attention is still on the frustrating elf who has… now pushed himself to stand with broken weight-bearing bones. UGH.

Adeline gives a little smirk at that face Anders pulls, but she stays quiet for now.

Fenris huffs. "I do not need it." Fenris says, though he's not looking like he's going to be standing long. His force of will is… Intense, but it will only go so far. Standing there, he manages, but as he goes to take a step, it's all over. His hip just will not bare the weight, it refuses, and though the elf curses about it, it's no good. "Fine." He eventually concedes, but it sounds more than a little pained, and in a way that has nothing to do with his broken bones.

The slightest roll of her eyes when he tries to move, tries to get away, tucking that vial back into it's little bag. An internal smirk when he doesn't make it. There's a look to Anders, palms sweeping towards Fenris and taking a step back. "If you like." Serving the other up on a platter for him to heal. "You are the best." Not at all angrily.

Anders watches Fenris attempt to be difficult only to be stopped by his own body. He settles a little when the prickly bastard accedes to his request, but it's not in a smug or satisfied way. Not with this patient. Minea's gesture and statement give him pause, a flash of hurt flickering across his face as he tries to parse out if that was sarcasm of not. "Maker's balls, it's not about being 'the best', it's - " But he cuts himself off there, because what's his excuse? To explain the actual 'why' would be to spill secrets that didn't belong to him and… in this case, he finds that is something he simply is not willing to do. So he sighs, reiterates that "It's not," and probably looks like the worst kind of narcissist. Which he is absolutely wonderful at - judging by his seemingly astronomical opinion of himself usually - so at least it won't surprise anyone. He's tired and cranky and absolutely pretending he isn't still more than just a little bit terrified out of his mind; in a less open setting, he'd probably have beckoned Fenris closer to make good use of that resonance in casting. As it stands, Anders is pretty sure - not positive, because Fenris is tricky, but pretty sure - that this body language is Fenris just about at his limit for People-ing. So, he gathers up the mana splashed into his bloodstream and directs it - warmth, comfort, easy; the restorative fizz of bees and the soothing easement of pain. It goes to pelvis, femur, vertebrae and spinal cord, then does a skimming wash across the rest of him just to be sure. The whole procedure takes up pretty much all the mana that potion had provided, but it's only a matter of minutes before the whole affair is done.

"Maker, you say 'one of' and suddenly they put you on trial." Adeline says, rolling her eyes but laughing in a relaxed way. "Minea, we should get you out of here. We can't linger in the square, not with… That having happened." She looks back to Anders then, "Can your friend here see you home?" Everyone is tense, and Adeline can feel it, and her levity will only go so far.

Fenris is so beyond done. And frankly, as he crouches there, head tilted forward, white hair falling into his face, he looks more like a kicked puppy than anything else. Just defeated. This body of his, it had this nasty habit of betraying his wishes. Which, well, he couldn't really blame it this time. Spinal fractures, broken hips, these things weren't small injuries. Perhaps he might have said something more to Minea, offered some explanation, but he just cannot pull up the will. Then the healing begins. There's a fairly awful scraping, screeching sound as Fenris pulls his hands into fists, his gauntlets scratching in a terrible whine against the stone of the steps. It's not that the healing hurts, but the magic, it just… Sits, it sits there and does its work and Fenris can feel it. And some days he can handle that. Some days he can quiet his mind and say that it's just Anders. Today, though, having just fought Qunari, being unable to walk, having just fought Qunari, the honeybee hum sounds like a hiss to him, and it's all he can do to sit there and let it happen and not scream.

Finally, though, it stops, and Fenris takes a deep breath. Looking up to Adeline, he gives her a nod. "I will see the mage home." He answers simply, so much more quiet than anything else he has spoken.

"Mythal save me." Under her breath as what was a gentle ribbing turns into… well whatever it turned into. Minea's reaching up to start plucking flowers out of her hair and hold one up to Laide to sniff and nibble if he's so inclined. "Lets. See if we can grab something to take back and eat." She's even more hungry now and the presence of the Qunari who could return at any moment really doesn't make her want to linger further. Fenris gets a studying parting glance but that's all. Anders is there, he'll be fine. She's fairly sure they can handle themselves. With that, she's turning and leaving. There's food to be had.

Anders can do nothing but watch, looking helpless and just a little bit lost - because fucking everything shows up in his damned expressive face - as the skill that should ease pain and discomfort visibly adds more before he can dissipate it entirely. He'd pushed for it, he'd bullied and poked and chivied Fenris into it, but now all he can say is "I'm sorry," with earnestness. He has enough presence of mind to nod to the departing Minea and look up at Adeline like he's more than a little bit lost, but he has no complaint about the arrangement. He trusts Fenris to do as he says.

"Anders, you choose where home is, okay?" Adeline says, letting Minea take a few steps away, "Whether that's your clinic, or with us, or with your friend here. I just need to get her back." Anders… Well, Adeline knew he could, more or less, usually take care of himself. Minea was another matter, she stuck to that elf quite protectively. "We're here, if you need anything at all." She doesn't fully part, however, before giving Fenris a look that says that if he doesn't get Anders home safely she will find him, and he will rue the day. Then, she's after Minea, getting her something to eat and then taking her back to The Hanged Man.

Fenris settles quickly once the magic is over, and catches the look from Adeline but does not rise to it. He has no intention of Anders being anything but safe in his care. Maker's breath, he'd been stupid enough to wade after Qunari for that fact. Once the other two Wardens have left, he looks back to Anders, and then stands, offering his arm to the mage. "Where's home tonight?" He asks. It seems he's not going to address that apology either. He doesn't want to think about it too hard, to be honest.

Anders also catches the look Adeline gives Fenris and immediately wants to just disappear. If it were possible to die purely from embarrassment, Anders would be an ex-parrot. Ah well, at least there's a tinge of color back to his skin, though it's mostly in his ears, which does not help him look less of a mess. When Fenris rises, Anders' attention shifts, reaching out for the contact for once because he genuinely doubts his ability to rise or remain standing under his own steam. The question surprises Anders. He hadn't expected to be given an actual choice - though come to think of it, he's not exactly sure what he expected. The thought of being alone is nauseating in the wake of that helplessness, but a night surrounded by Wardens is equally as nauseating - not least because even the idea tastes like defeat. "I think the clinic should be safe enough, now." He hopes so, at any rate. "Nothing in Darktown to tempt the Qunari."

"People have been whispering about the clinic. I think it itself might be enough to tempt them." Fenris says, but it's not a real argument. He watches the mage as he finds his feet again, considers something a moment. If the Arishok had meant what he said, and Fenris was loathe to think that he didn't, Qunari had this nasty habit of being incredibly straight to the point, Anders was likely safest, in the whole of Kirkwall, with him. Now that was a strange feeling. "You could come back with me." He can hardly believe he's offering it until it spills from his mouth. What was it with this guy?

That's… a remarkably worrisome thought. Anders chews on his lower lip a little as he gets some kind of steadiness under him. The last fizzling fumes of mana go into relieving the sense of the world spinning and then at least he doesn't feel quite so much like he's about to fall down. "I'll have to move the clinic… Maker, and I just got set up, too." The thought is a daunting one, but that train of thought is entirely derailed by the completely unexpected invitation. Anders considers it a moment, unable to find any emotion beyond gratitude and relief at the suggestion. "That would… be nice," he manages, feeling incredibly awkward. "The quilts probably serve as a natural Qunari repellent, what with their need for order, simplicity, color coordination…"

That actually elicits a barked laugh from Fenris. "Oh definitely." He confirms, though his voice is dry as ever, "That is a rarely shared secret in fighting the Qunari. They cannot stand quilts." Yep, he's even joking back. Somehow, the joking lets him deflect, and he'd not really seen the value in that before, but now… Well, let's just say some days have things you don't want to think about more than others. There's another moment of considering, and then Fenris does something also, likely, unexpected. See, Fenris wields this giant blade all the time, and Anders can't weigh that much. So he picks him up, because he knows the look of someone who is still trying to stay on their feet looks like, and the mage, Fenris decides, has had enough for today. And then he's walking, not accepting complaint, off in the direction of the inn he's been holed up in.


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