[There are a lot of looks exchanged between them that give the discussion the quality of a silent stage performance, like they're all actors--Beautiful But Tragic Heroine, Illegitimate Son Caught Between Two Worlds, Dog Owner Angry At World--miming to an audience they can't see. And then there's Anders who'd forgotten his script, or lost it, or perhaps never gotten it in the mail at all.
"There was a Calling and everyone knows about it"? Right out of the starting gate, Anders has no idea what's going on. When Carver shoots him a look, Anders, bemused, tries to meet it even-handedly, but he probably just looks at a loss. Anders' gaze slides to Bethy for help, but her soft, liquid eyes hold no answers for him. In fact, they might even look a little gleefully smug. Dogs.
By the time Carver gets to the part about the Black City, gooseflesh has found a home on Anders' arms and neck. It's the evening air, if anyone asks.]
Am I the only one hung up on the magister-darkspawn?
[Anders' hands do the talking for him, flying wide.]
A bygone magister-turned-darkspawn that possesses bodies and can make Wardens think they're hearing the Calling? Those sound like the abilities of an archdemon. And Tevinters storming the Black City--I thought that was just a story.
[Don't even get him started on Wardens committing blood sacrifices and creating a demon army--that's the cherry on this extra fruity fruitcake. Dismay evident, he looks around as if waiting for someone to put up their hand and admit this is one overly complex joke that's gotten out of hand, but when no one does, he sighs, sounding worn out.]
Don't mind me, I need a minute to take this in. Go on, go on.
no subject
"There was a Calling and everyone knows about it"? Right out of the starting gate, Anders has no idea what's going on. When Carver shoots him a look, Anders, bemused, tries to meet it even-handedly, but he probably just looks at a loss. Anders' gaze slides to Bethy for help, but her soft, liquid eyes hold no answers for him. In fact, they might even look a little gleefully smug. Dogs.
By the time Carver gets to the part about the Black City, gooseflesh has found a home on Anders' arms and neck. It's the evening air, if anyone asks.]
Am I the only one hung up on the magister-darkspawn?
[Anders' hands do the talking for him, flying wide.]
A bygone magister-turned-darkspawn that possesses bodies and can make Wardens think they're hearing the Calling? Those sound like the abilities of an archdemon. And Tevinters storming the Black City--I thought that was just a story.
[Don't even get him started on Wardens committing blood sacrifices and creating a demon army--that's the cherry on this extra fruity fruitcake. Dismay evident, he looks around as if waiting for someone to put up their hand and admit this is one overly complex joke that's gotten out of hand, but when no one does, he sighs, sounding worn out.]
Don't mind me, I need a minute to take this in. Go on, go on.