[OPEN/EVENT] Wonder if those changes have left a scar on you;

[magisterium]

Who: Dorian Pavus & you!
Where: The bar.
When: 11/21, mid-afternoon until well past midnight.
Rating: R, potentially.
Summary: In failing to save the Herald of Andraste, Dorian feels he's responsible for dooming Thedas-- but the fact that Brennan's memories and his own now contradict has complicated things further.
The Story:

It doesn't matter to Dorian that none of the bar staff seems to be serving this afternoon-- he's enough of a regular that he feels perfectly comfortable helping himself, parking himself on a stool at the far end of the counter with an uncorked bottle of wine in front of him, already halfway empty with a second bottle on standby. He's certain he'll get through that bottle as well, and once he's done, he'll have very few qualms about helping himself to something more.

He's found occasion to drink most days since coming to Wonderland, and so his presence in the bar isn't unusual in and of itself-- but today he drinks with a single-minded determination, a desperate attempts to swallow down memories he'd rather forget, and to try to keep himself from losing his mind trying to reconcile why none of his memories seem to match up with Brennan's. It doesn't trouble him so much that Brennan doesn't remember what he does: Dorian could hardly expect him to do the impossible and remember anything beyond his own death. It seemed like it might be asking a bit much, considering he thought himself to be largely responsible. It was the fact that not only was Brennan here, but he remembered a friendship between the two of them that they'd never had the opportunity to build-- they had just barely met before Alexius had seen fit to remove the Herald of Andraste from time itself, and whatever that had meant for Brennan, it had also meant the end of Thedas as they knew it to be.

He exhales slowly, closing his eyes for a brief moment before seizing his wine glass and swiftly draining it of its contents, trying to banish the all-too-vivid images that thoughts of Corypheus' Thedas brought to mind. Memories that even months in Wonderland could never hope to banish, perhaps not even years. His conversation with Brennan himself had been puzzling, but he's determined not to retain the necessary coherency to try and examine those discrepancies further-- not today, at least, and he hopes the inevitable hangover will be enough to keep him from trying to solve the conundrum tomorrow, as well.

Unfortunately, it's a vain hope. No amount of alcohol has ever been enough to quiet his thoughts or drown his regrets, though he's tried time and time again. Regardless, he intends to try once more, even if it takes him until the pre-dawn hours. There's always a first time for everything.

Comments

[magisterium]

He's probably the least evil necromancer in Thedas, Faith. Perhaps. He means well, anyway, and intent is really the thing, isn't it? It's the thought that counts. That's what everyone says.

"There's something to be said for that as well," Dorian remarks with a wry smile, taking a moment to refill his own glass. "A bit brutish for my tastes, but I won't pretend that I haven't been exceptionally grateful for those who are able to handle things in close-quarters. It certainly makes my life easier."

Or did, when 'easier' was still an option.

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"Oh yeah? How's that? You go around picking fights with brawlers a lot?"

She keeps her voice light, smoker's rasp chuckling through the bar-talk. She's starting to get that this is a major part of Wonderland, this shooting the shit with people. Getting to know them. It's just like home, where you have to keep your social network fresh in case you need something. It's nothing like home because unless Wonderland wills it, you can't escape them.

[magisterium]

"The fights pick me," he corrects smartly, and for a moment there's the faintest glimmer of his old humor having returned, though it flickers and dies just as quickly as it had peeked through. "There are a great number of them to go around, where I come from. Moreso than usual, lately. Things have begun to fall apart." Or so he remembers. Right now, with all that's going on here, it's hard to say what's strictly true.

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"Oh, ouch. And here I thought we were gonna get out of the doldrums. You know people drink to escape that shit, right?"

Oddly positive in a negative way, Faith has to at least try not to let this spin out. The idea of things falling apart in some sort of schism is definitely close to her at this moment. Her thoughts drift back to her own friend, a mere shadow of himself.

"I got a friend remembers everything differently too. Shit, I'm not even sure I'm the actual me. Just trying to get through it for now, I mean."

[magisterium]

"Precisely why I'm here," Dorian assures her with a grim smile, moving to refill his own glass-- he'd long given up depending on any barkeep and taken an entire bottle for himself. It just seemed easier. "It might take another bottle or two to make me properly forget, however, even for a short time."

It's a challenge, but one he is more than willing to face right about now.

"There are few things more trying than being uncertain of your own memories," he goes on, one side of his mouth twitching, threatening a frown, though he doesn't quite allow it to get that far. "I suppose waiting is all we can do, frustrating as it is."

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"OK you're gonna do it right, then."

Faith moves, hopping back up on the counter and swiveling her boots around to hop back down next to Dorian. She crouches, rummaging around the shelves as glass clinks with each touch.

Two shot glasses thunk onto the bar above her, and she follows up with whatever liquid a narrator who is not a teetotaler would know goes into them to get Dorian properly fucked up.

"It's time for shots. C'mere."