fandomhigh | Fandom High Welcome Picnic, Front Lawn of the School, All Day: Part II

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!event: welcome picnic

Fandom High Welcome Picnic, Front Lawn of the School, All Day: Part II

There were chairs and tables set up all across the lawn; some were by the bonfire, for the people who wanted to be warm and central to everything else at the picnic, and some were set farther away from the action, for the people who wanted more peace and quiet.

There was no escaping the glitter though. Sorry, but not really.

[OCD is up! This is the picnic post for general mingling. Roommates, fake siblings and teachers are all here. Since it's outside, the picnic is open to all students, teachers, and townies!]

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Anders, meanwhile, had resigned himself to being covered with glitter. Phenomenal elemental powers at his fingertips, and deglittering nowhere among them. He'd write a strongly worded letter of complaint to ... someone.

He was distracted from that particular misery by the slightly familiar sigil on the girl's armor. It wasn't a Templar logo, exactly, but it was definitely Chantry.

He should have known this day would come. Best to get on with it, then. He squared his shoulders, adjusted his staff to his back more firmly, and went over to at least figure out what she wanted. There was always the hope it wasn't him, that maybe she was even form some completely different world. (There was also what seemed like a roughly equal hope it would rain sovereigns tomorrow, but he was going to cling to the little optimism he could scrape up.)

"I like the armor," he offered, by way of greeting -- he wouldn't let her see how rattled he was. "But aren't you overdressed for a picnic?"

Cassandra's eyes flew immediately to the man's shoulder. She had encountered many people who had turned out not to be mages here - but she still expected the sight of one, to explain how she had gotten here.

It was almost a relief to at last see a mage's staff on someone's back.

"I knew an apostate had to be responsible," she said. "Remove your staff at once, mage!"

So much for hoping, right, Anders?

Anders looked vaguely incredulous but, almost on reflex, did as he was asked and leaned his staff against a corner of the picnic table.

"Responsible for what?" he asked. "Glitter? Breathing your air? Your poor choice of picnic attire? I can't tell you who to blame if you aren't specific."

"Bringing me here," Cassandra said. "I found one of your compatriots. She used a spell. No doubt she was hoping to escape to come to you."

It made sense, from a certain point of view.

"Maybe. Was she pretty?"

Not the time, Anders. He blinked, swallowed, and grasped the fact the girl -- whoever she was -- didn't seem to have the first idea who he was.

"I promise that wasn't me," he said, finally sincere. "Happy as I am for your company, I wouldn't know the first thing about writing a spell like that and I don't know of any mages who could. I fell through a portal to get here myself."

Or jumped through one in an attempt to run away. Tomato, to-mah-to.

Edited 2015-01-03 16:27 (UTC)

Oddly, Cassandra didn't look much impressed by that answer - or entirely mollified.

"A likely story," she said. "Which Circle do you belong to? I found the apostates in lower Ferelden."

Anders decided to hold onto his philosophical argument as to whether he could be said to belong to any Circle, what with the runaway apostate status, for a time when she seemed less apt to start hitting things. It felt like a rational decision.

"Circle Tower," he said instead. "About as far north as you can get without running into Orzammar, isn't it?"

"Ferelden, then." This was not helping her judgement any. "How did you come here? And how do you intend to leave?"

As far as she was concerned, she should leave and return to the Seekers as soon as possible.

She should also bring the apostate. He could not be allowed to be left roaming freely.

"The complete other side of Ferelden, yes," Anders said mildly. "What were you doing there, anyhow? I don't recognize your accent."

He let that question hang in the air while he thought of a good -- if incomplete -- answer to the ones she'd asked. "I got here through a glowing door that opened in my room at the Tower, and I haven't been able to find a way home yet." (Not that he'd been looking.) "I've been on the island since Bloomingtide."

He was surprised to realize the familiar name of the month felt slightly dusty in his mouth.

"We may be stuck with each other for a while, unless you have better luck than I did."

And oh, what joy that promised.

It was Wintermarch now. Bloomingtide-- that was eight months ago. Had Kinloch Hold not reported their first missing mage around that time? Cassandra's eyes narrowed.

"I will do better, and luck has nothing to do with it," she said. "I am a Seeker of Truth. I come from Nevarra." And he should be lucky to get those facts. "I was in Ferelden to help stabilize the countryside and its Chantry presence. We have received increasing reports of apostate activity - and then I find myself here, and here you are."

"I've never met a Nevarran," Anders offered. "Is it true you want corpses to get possessed? Set up cities for them and everything?"

He didn't seriously expect an answer.

"Anyhow, I can't say I'm upset to hear mages are doing well in Ferelden but I've got nothing to do with any of that. And there are no other mages on the island -- not the sort you're looking for, anyhow."

The only response he got to his first question was a fairly aggressive disgusted noise. No, she would not answer it.

"You are very quick to say so," she said, "Perhaps you are hiding others."

Edited 2015-01-03 17:28 (UTC)

"Or perhaps I've spent the last four years being picked at by people like you so I knew that was going to be your next question," Anders said, irritated. "Look, I'm almost flattered you think I'm some sort of apostate mastermind, but honestly I've got no idea how you came here."

And he was going to take that disgusted noise as affirmation.

He was welcome to take it whatever way he liked. Cassandra had no interest in the habits and studies of the Mortalitasi. Negative interest, in fact.

"And I have nothing but your word," she pointed out. "It is lacking."

"Not much else I can give you, is there?" Anders said, folding his arms across his chest. "I could swear by Andraste's flaming knickerweasels that I'm telling the truth, but I doubt that would make either of us feel much better. So go ahead, poke around and you'll see I'm not lying."

"I will speak to the authorities," Cassandra said, "and I will find you if you are lying. Now cease blaspheming, mage."

"I imagine that would be terrifying if I was lying," Anders shrugged. "Also, I'll shut up about Andraste's knickers but you could call me Anders. 'Mage' doesn't sound very friendly at all."

Cassandra grunted in irritation and disgust.

"Leave," she said. "While I am still willing to let you."

Anders rolled his eyes extravagantly, picked up his staff, and did as he was told.

"Goodbye, then. Have fun."

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