entrancelogs | hold tight, you're slowly coming back to life

Entry tags:

hold tight, you're slowly coming back to life

Who: Anders (

circlejerked), Cullen Rutherford (

morework), Garrett Hawke (

bloodmagics), Nathaniel Howe (

noble_son), and Robyn Cousland (

heroica).
Where: First floor, room ten.
When: Backdated to Nov. 2. (Room will remain from Nov. 2-7th for anyone who wants to celebrate in the Antivan tradition.)
Rating: PG? Will change if Cullen loses at Wicked Grace.
Summary: A belated Satinalia celebration for aging dragons. It's time to eat your feelings and drink away your woes, just like the Maker intended.
The Story:

_{[Why is it Wonderland seems to acknowledge every holiday from every other world except Thedas'? They've celebrated Summerween, they've celebrated Halloween, but in all the confusion Anders looks up and realizes they've managed to overlook the most important holiday of them all.

Um. Satinalia, of course. What else?

Then and there Anders decides they (for a loose definition of they, since there's a pitifully small number of Thedosians left) could use a little holiday cheer. Once he gets it in his head to bring the idea up to one Thedosian, it occurs to him he might as well bring it up to all of them. It's not much of a festive Satinalia with just one or two people. Thus, he devises a diplomatic and tasteful invitation to those still present that announces his intentions. It goes a little like:]}

Do you know what day it is? Check your calendar! Not those Earth calendars, OUR calendar. Satinalia passed us by without a single feast or embarrassing joke gift. As a loyal Ferelden, I can't let this stand.

I also don't want to celebrate alone because that's sad, so with that in mind, see yourselves to room 10 on the first floor for dinner tonight and let's pretend we're anywhere but here.

_{[Anders goes to great lengths to dress the room up in such a way that will be familiar to everyone, which is why should Wonderland's remaining Thedosians drop by, they'll step into what appears to be, for all intents and purposes, a trashy tavern with a long wooden bench in the center, the kind you'd find in any backwater Ferelden village. It even smells like Ferelden--old straw, sour beer, and dog.

Garlands string the walls and classic Ferelden dishes line the table. Everyone gets a Satinalia gift from Anders composed of assorted alcohol (it's not a proper party without the key ingredient, after all). Cullen gets a little something extra--a knitted scarf, because it's never too late to keep your promises.

Happy holidays, one and all.]}

Closed to Robyn

_{[Robyn's text has an extra line attached to it.]}

PS: I have something special for you. Now you HAVE to come, or you'll never find out what it is and you'll live the rest of your life in suspense.

_{[Anders isn't above some heavy-handed manipulation to get people to agree to a dinner date. And they're not entirely empty threats--he actually does have something for her. It sits waiting for her at her spot at the table: a leather sleeve, the kind for protecting documents.

He's been holding onto it for a while, it just never felt like... the right time. Now's as good an opportunity as any, he figures.]}

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[ Well, she can't very well live the rest of her life in suspense, can she?

Robyn brightens at the message, having... not quite forgotten about Satinalia, but not exactly celebrating it, either. They aren't at home and their numbers are vanishing by the day. When Anders plans to celebrate, though, she's more than happy to participate, and heads over to dinner with a kitten in her arms and dog at her heels.

When she enters the unlocked room, she sighs and stares as nostalgia washes over her. ]

It's perfect. [ She breathes, beaming. Oren is clearly interested in the food by the way he's sniffing enthusiastically, but he doesn't dare venture to steal some away. Purrlock mews tentatively and the Warden sets him down to explore and to socialize with the other cats. ]

Anders? [ She calls out, still gaping at the scene with an enthused grin. ] You've really outdone yourself for this.

_{[No, she cannot. Refusal doesn't factor into Anders' grand plan to do something homey for once and wash the bad taste of these last couple of events from his mouth.

He won't admit it, but being subsumed into a life where he had a loving family and was free to practice his magic (in Thedas, it's always either/or, and even then, there's no "free" about it), only to turn around and be forced to face the polar opposite in his crippling sense of solitude as a Lost Boy, had left him more than a little unbalanced. He isn't the greatest at facing his feelings on a good day; having Wonderland take them, twist them into knots, and shove them back down his throat is a unique kind of punishment.

He can admit he's selfish enough to need this, too.]}

You think so?

_{[Anders is sitting at one end of the table, having just finished carrying in the last of the food, and he waves at her when she enters, pleased she likes it.

The decorating scheme is a little on the nose, but he's never tried his hand at decorating a real party in his life. Perpetuating the Ferelden stereotype is good enough for him--and if it gets a laugh, all the better.]}

I was hoping to recapture a little of our homeland for the occasion. And you brought a mabari! I feel more Ferelden already. Glad you decided to come.

I wouldn't do you the dishonor of lying about your ability to make a room like Fereldan. [ She laughs lightly, still gazing around at the decor with an expression of wonderment. ] You've done a brilliant job. All I could do is show up, as requested, and... bring the animals, of course. For authenticity.

[ What is a Fereldan party without a mabari? ]

I wouldn't miss it. [ Robyn stresses, almost chiding. ] Though I'll admit I'm nervous about this 'something special.' If it's anything like a snowball to the face, I swear I'll get back at you.

[ She hasn't forgotten that fight, okay? Or that Alistair had once dropped her in mud out of the blue. ]

Well, it's not a visit to a proper Ferelden tavern without it looking like a barnyard. All I had to do was think I wanted the room to look like home and--voila. Wonderland knows us too well.

_{[He pats the seat next to him, where her "gift" rests on top of the empty plate waiting there.]}

You're too sober for that. If I were going to ambush you, it wouldn't be until you were lulled into a false sense of security. _{[Is that reassuring? No? Oops.]} Have a seat. It's right here.

_{[He holds up the leather packet so she can see for herself.

Inside she'll find the result of Anders asking their resident Jane Doe for a spur-of-the-moment art commission during a conversation on tattoos. It's a painting, done by Jane herself, featuring Alistair seated on a patch of grass in the garden, leaning back on his hands, smile open and relaxed. An average moment during an average day that Anders had caught with his camera.

He can't even remember what was being said now to tease the smile out of Alistair, but he'd always liked the photograph--Alistair at ease with a spray of summer flowers in view over his shoulder. Not a king or a Warden on duty in that moment, just a man. He thought, maybe, it was a moment Robyn would appreciate, too. Her bond with Alistair had run deep, deeper than Anders could rightly say.]}

I should warn you now, if you're not a fan of overly sentimental things, you probably shouldn't open it. Just putting that out there.

Now that you've warned me, I won't have a single drink. [ Robyn chuckles, but she does sit when he gestures, eyebrows raised with amused trepidation. ] As for the sentiment, you'll excuse me if I'm still suspicious of you...

[ Really, she's half-expecting to open the packet and to have a snowball launched into her face from its depths. What she finds, though, as she gingerly tugs out the painting, is very, very different.

Robyn isn't particularly good at keeping emotions from her face, which is why it's painfully obvious how she feels about the gift. Her lips part in surprise and wonder, a trembling hand moving to ghost over his painted features. After, she covers her mouth, blinking more than once as her eyes sting with the weight of the image.

Suddenly, a shaky laugh escapes as she lowers her hand and clutches the painting as if afraid someone might immediately take it from her. ]

He would hate this. [ She breathes, beaming, eyes welling with - everything, with all the things she'd been through in Thedas and Wonderland, the people she - they - had lost. ] He... would probably say "what, couldn't get a massive one of just my face to hang over the fire?"

[ She mimics his voice, then bites down hard on her lip, struggling with what to say. Finally, the Warden looks to Anders, very much at a loss. ]

Thank you. [ She whispers, and gently sets the gift down so that she can draw the mage into a tight embrace. ] I can't tell you how much this means to me.

Edited 2016-11-08 15:46 (UTC)

You can't not drink on Satinalia, pretty sure that's against the official rules.

_{[Are there official rules? Well, there are now.

Her suspicion is well-deserved. Anders isn't sure how well his latest surprise will go over, all told; gifts this personal aren't exactly his usual fare, and for a moment he almost wonders if he's upset her from the way her eyes flare wide in surprise. Only when they grow wet does he realize he's upset her--just in a different way.]}

Yikes, are you going to cry? I didn't bring any tissues.

_{[Then unexpectedly, she's hugging him, full on arms-around-him hugging. A laugh escapes him, a product of his own surprise. All right...? All right. They're doing this, then. They're hugging it out. He brings his arm around and delivers a nice, firm pat to her back.

He hadn't seen this coming, but he's suddenly glad he'd gone ahead and done it. It's clearly touched her.]}

You just did--and you're welcome. I thought you might like to have a little something since you didn't get to say goodbye. Something that wasn't a cat that cries all the time.

I'm not! [ She laughs, shaking her head fervently. ] I would never!

[ She absolutely would cry over a gift, but she'll restrain herself in this case. The Warden hiccups a little, beaming, but blinks enough to stem the tide of emotions that this present has brought on. ]

I'll make a point of wishing the picture a goodbye every time I leave the room. [ Robyn jokes, looking a mix between amused and elated. ] I only hope it doesn't confuse Purrlock.

[ Eh, cats are smarter than that, right? It will baffle Oren, though, she imagines. He barks at most things. ]

Did you have this painted from... what, memory? [ She laughs lightly again, peering in to the portrait. ] He looks absurdly happy. In a good way, I mean. I'm glad you were able to... capture this moment.

_{[Liar, liar, Warden uniform on fire. Don't you know you can't bullshit a bullshitter, young lady?]}

Then I regret to inform you you've either sprung a leak, or you're allergic to the smell of beef stew.

_{[He doesn't retract his arm right away, giving her another lighter, reassuring pat. It feels a little on the presumptuous side to do, but he's already gone the full monty on schmoopy tokens, so what the hell. And she's clearly a hugger--what's a little PDA between Wardens?]}

A photograph, actually. He didn't notice I took it at the time, it struck me as being a little more... freeing. Like when you think no one's watching. I was partial to the thought of Jane making it into something you could touch. Pictures on the device don't seem quite as vivid when it's on a screen.

I'll have the plead the former, then. I absolutely can't miss out on the beef stew.

[ It's perfectly reasonable to argue that she has, in fact, sprung a leak, right? Right. Robyn withdraws with a big breath. ]

Ah - right. Photographs. [ That's a thing that exists in Wonderland. ] I've really been using this device all the time, but I forget all that it can do.

[ She's learning, though. You can teach an old mabari new tricks, apparently. ]

They aren't the same. [ The Warden agrees. ] Nothing compares with this. Jane did an incredible job; I need to get in touch with her to thank her, too.

[ Maybe she'll get Anders some kind of portrait of his own someday. ]

Your secret's safe with me.

_{[No one has to find out about her attack of wet eyes. It's enough that he could give her something that she can keep with her and remember better times with whenever she feels like it.]}

I use the picture and video to record things sometimes. Moments. Things I'd like to remember again. I have a vast array of cat photos if you're ever in the mood. _{[Because of course he does.]} She'll be glad to know you liked it.

_{[If she does get him a portrait, please let it be this one.]}

Edited 2016-11-22 09:22 (UTC)

[It wasn't exactly the kind of invitation that he was accustomed to, neither as an Arl's son or a Grey Warden, but it was certainly an Anders kind of invitation and - as with much of the mage's ridiculousness - it also wasn't something that Nathaniel could ignore.

The distinctly Ferelden smell hits him before he even opens the door, and he struggles valiantly to keep the faint smirk from becoming anything more than that as he observes what Anders has done with the room. Their numbers might be pitifully few now, but it didn't look as if any effort had been spared when it came to decoration.

So he smiles - or he does what passes for smiling for Nathaniel - and quirks one eyebrow in Anders' direction.]

I'd almost missed that smell. [Then, he almost laughs.] The number of mabari in Ferelden really doesn't account for it.

_{[You are very welcome for this excuse to have a social life, Mr. Howe.

Anders has settled at the table, cheek propped against his hand, already working through a pint of ale and a plate of lamb sweetbread, a recipe remembered from some village he'd long forgotten the name of but whose cook had been able to do things with a slab of meat and a pinch of spices that could make a man's taste buds weep in joy. It's home in all but name. He looks up when Nathaniel enters, pleased to see he's decided to join them.]}

That pungent aroma really brings back memories, doesn't it?

_{[It's not the sort of fanciness an Arl's son is probably used to seeing, but it's more festivity than the Grey Wardens are typically known for. Darkspawn don't take breaks for holidays, and neither does the Order.

When Anders thinks of his best Satinalias, he thinks of the spare few he'd spent as a free man, drifting from town to town one step ahead of the templars. Nothing special, nothing elegant, but good food and a fire keeping the chill at bay hadn't needed to be in those days.]}

Pull up a chair. You better help me eat all of this before my cats do.

Mm... it does. [Some of them he'd rather forget, but he keeps his expression wry. No, it isn't the kind of fanciness he'd got used to seeing at his father's home, or even during his time in the Free Marches, but Anders was right about both sides of the coin - Wardens certainly weren't known for their merrymaking.

He takes a seat beside the mage and gently nudges his arm with one elbow.]

I never understood how an entire kingdom could smell so pervasively of the same thing.

All we're missing is the dwarven flatulence, but I didn't want to get too crazy. There are children present.

_{[He looks to his two kittens. They count as children. Furry children.]}

We're just so lucky, I guess. Out there in the universe is a kingdom of skunks, I'm sure.

Hmmm... I don't know, Anders.

[He pets the nearest cat, rubbing the tip of one finger against the top of its head. Nathaniel has a considering look on his face, as if the next thing out of his mouth is going to be something deep and meaningful.

Of course, it isn't.]

You kept out of the Deep Roads; you missed some really unpleasant smells. [A faint, crooked smirk.] They don't even have words for what a putrefying broodmother smells like.

_{[In response, he shrugs. Oh, he wishes he didn't know the kinds of subterranean horrors and foul aromas Nathaniel's talking about.]}

The Anders you know must be a smarter man than me. This one's had his fill of the Deep Roads.

_{[The Mother trying to strangle him to death with her creepy, crawly tentacles isn't something one forgets. Ser Pounce-a-lot hadn't been very impressed with the aesthetic, either. Not a fan of ancient dwarven architecture, perhaps.]}

I'll take wet dog any day of the week.

Tch... I used to volunteer you on purpose.

[Is he joking? He might be joking, but it's honestly hard to tell when his face is set in such a serious expression. Of course, it's hard to take that expression seriously when it comes along with gently petting a cat.]

I couldn't say that I didn't understand, though. Some of the things you find down there...

[He shakes his head, a small frown furrowing his brow.]

But-- Ah, there are better things to speak of. Sunlight, for instance.

Finding a way to send you in my place at least sounds about right.

_{[Now that does seem like a very Anders-ish thing to do, and he smiles, unapologetically amused. He probably hadn't been sorry then, and he isn't sorry now.

Still, he trades the smile in for a mock shudder at thought of the kinds of "things" waiting to haunt a man's dreams down in those roads. There are definitely more cheery topics to discuss on Satalina. Belated Satinalia. Close enough.]}

And drinks! Don't forget the drinks. My gift to you. You know, to wash the taste of brainwashing out of your mouth.

Oh, do you? [ Robyn laughs, unsurprised. ] You could start a gallery, you know. Photos of Wonderland's local cats.

[ He won't want for subjects, that's for sure. ]

I didn't realize there were artists around. [ She states, tilting her head slightly. ] But she's certainly proven me wrong.

[ Oh, it'll be that one. Or worse. Absolutely. ]

_{[That right there is a light bulb going off. Anders taps his chin with a finger.]}

You might be onto something. A charming young lady by the name of Max is the latest curator of the gallery here, as I understand it. I wonder if she'd be interested in a feline exhibit... No offense to Alistair's face. I'm sure he'd love an exhibit of his own.

_{[Right on cue, Purrlock scrambles onto the table and comes to investigate what's going on on their end. Before the kitten can put a paw into the pudding, Anders scoops him off and deposits him on the bench between them.]}

Sorry, humans get first dibs on the banquet, my talkative little friend. Now that the gift giving is over, I think it's high time to celebrate!

Oh, undoubtedly. But, I like your idea better. [ Nobody needs a gallery of Alistair's face (sorry, buddy). ] I haven't met Max, but I can't imagine she'd deny your adding a bit of a photo-addendum onto the place.

[ Even if it is just cats and no dogs. :( ]

I agree. [ Robyn laughs lightly, stroking the irate-Purrlock who had been dragged away from his feast. ] ... Thank you again, Anders. This really is a thoughtful gift.

Something to ponder for the future...

_{[Are Max's ears burning yet? There are a couple Fereldans plotting to give her one seriously massive headache. Or maybe just one in particular. It's Anders' specialty.

Purrlock cries at the loss of dishes to stick his feet into, but the pets needn't worry, there's plenty to go around. It'd be just plain rude to feed an ex-templar and not their loyal four-legged companions.]}

You're very welcome. Getting a full belly without having to worry about fighting off monsters is a much better way to get a taste of home, instead of Wonderland yanking those memories out of our heads and letting darkspawn run amok.

Brainwash--... Anders, please. [He sounds insulted, but Maker knows he is trying very hard not to smile behind the mask of distaste. He conceals it by taking a long pulls on the drink in his hands.]

Yes, the drinks.

[Brainwashing. The things that come out of your mouth, Anders. It's no wonder half the Wardens in Weisshaupt wanted to kick him down the mountain.]

You are ruthless, do you know that?

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hold tight, you're slowly coming back to life

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yes here I am!

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