keeperofmagi | Fade Rift Inbox

Whatever I'm feeling is rather irrelevant in comparison to whatever it is you're going through, Nerva. I mean that entirely.

[He removes his hat and sighs softly, combing his fingers through his hair as he sits down beside Nerva.]

I want to know how you're feeling. What you're thinking. What you were thinking.

[It isn't fair, how understanding he is, for something that she is so utterly disgusted with herself for.]

I - am not sure I could tell you. [She turned her head once he sat down, eyes fixating on the line of light underneath the door. Mostly for something to focus on, even though she seemed to be glaring at it.]

I wasn't. Thinking. Anders - - [She cut off with a sigh.] I would explain it if I could, but I - am not certain it was even-- [She cut off again, frustrated.]

It has been a long time, since I have snapped like that. I'm sorry.

[His fingers fold together as he considers a moment, still frowning to himself.]

You hit him, not me. But we'll... get to that.

You talked about someone burning people alive. It was a mage, wasn't it? A mage who killed people you cared about.

It was your party. [As if she really needs to remind him of that, but - she'd made a promise. No getting into fights at Fate's party, and she'd failed that one spectacularly.

She doesn't respond to the question for a long time - long enough that perhaps she wasn't going to answer him at all. Until suddenly she stood, and before he could protest pulled her tunic up over her head. She was still wearing her small clothes, which were anything but small, really - a tight top with no sleeves, leggings - but neither of them were the point.

It was the scar, that took up most of her shoulder, and extending down her shoulder blade and her bicep. It was old - incredibly old, but the skin was still puckered in strange ways, as if it had blistered and the blisters had become flesh on their own. It was reddened, and the skin was too tight - like it had been stretched over her bones as far as it was go.

She didn't meet his eye.]

My family. My brother and I survived.

[Usually when a woman undresses for him, something spectacular would go along with it. In this moment, it is far more personal and intimate than he's been involved in for awhile, and it has nothing to do with sex.

This is something she is sharing with him, something he expects she's shared with few.

For a moment, Twisted Fate looks over the burn scars, his brows knitted. A moment in his mind, he remembers a human child so badly burned before, who cringed from his offer of magic and had been thrown away from the clan the next morning. Keeper Shoshanna had no sympathy for much of anything outside of the clan, and he was putting that together in that moment as a child.

But this isn't about him right now. It's about her.

Gently, he takes her hand.]

A Tevinter mage. [That, he can conclude. Nerva of Tevinter. Why she fears and loathes magic so much.]

A Magister. [Both a confirmation, and a clarification. Not just any mage. But the very mages that she saw the shadows of, in the Council. In the Rebellion.

In Anders, refusing to bow.

The hand surprised her, and for a half a second she almost recoiled from it, but the feeling passed almost instantly, and instead she took his hand and tightened her own around it, fingers sliding between his for a better grip.

She sat down again, not letting go, the tunic folded up haphazardly in her lap.]

A - rival of the Magister my parents served. We were an easy way to send a 'light' warning. A warning that didn't matter, whose cost could easily be covered and repaired. [There should be bitterness to her voice, but there isn't. It is a hollow emptiness.]

It had been a long time, since I have dreamed of that night. Years, perhaps. But it is my own fault that they return.

[Of course a Magister. Why would it be anything else? He exhales and closes his eyes a moment.]

You were slaves. Or servants.

[He suspects the former. If you're just property, then there's no real loss to be killed or damaged as a warning. Something he knows far too well.]

I can't truly imagine what it is like to be in your situation. Nor can I consider that Anders would have the ability to, either.

[It's difficult. He feels deeply for Nerva, and he is fond of Anders. Fate could never hope the two of them to really come to see eye to eye on anything, and he doesn't expect them to.]

Servants. But with no magical ability or coin, there's little difference.

[She gripped at the tunic at the mention of Anders.]

He will never know. [It's sharp, and tight, and not a question.] Fa-- Tobrevas. He is happily convinced I am a monster - that all templars are monsters - and I have no inclination to disabuse him of that notion. His ignorance is not worth my effort.

Mine-- [She let out a hard breath, but did finally turn her head, to look at him, her hand still clasped around his.]

... I had once thought the same. But I know better, now.

I know.

[Creators, he knows.]

Anders, from what I understand, has found himself in the abuse of Templars. I understand that not all the Circles were as wretched as his experience. [Not that he's a fan of the idea of Circles, but that's not a political discussion he's interested in having ever.] But what he knows is all he knows. I don't excuse it, I'm just... establishing.

But I know different. I know you. And I know you are doing your best. You regret what happened, and so does he.

Typically, when such a thing happens with two regretting, I might ask that you two apologize to each other. I will never ask you to try to befriend him, like him, or forgive him. All that is impossible. But he is part of the Inquisition, and that is the decision that was concluded by the Wardens and the advisers.

He has the right to feel safe, as a fellow Inquisition agent. Is that something we can do?

I heard. About Kirkwall. It was inevitable, with that systemic abuse, that they would break everything. But he killed innocents. No abuse - No abuse justifies that.

[There was a hitch to her voice. No abuse justified it, and she knew that. She knew that all too well.]

[She doesn't reply immediately, weighing her words before responding to his - an effort she certainly didn't give Anders the night before.]

I don't regret him. [She decided, firmly.] I regret breaking my own oath, and I regret - upsetting you. And I regret losing control. But I am not so certain the advisers all completely agreed with the Wardens, so much as had no choice. They have precedents, to take criminals.

[Her voice is stiff, and she will not waiver. He is no innocent, and remembering how victimized he had made himself sound made anger flash in the back of her mind, but -

instead, she sighed.]

I will not approach him again. That, I will swear to you.

Edited 2016-04-11 01:49 (UTC)

I am not justifying his actions. Just as I am not justifying yours. But I understand.

[Maybe it was too much to expect that they could swallow their differences and actually apologize to one another. Fate thinks to himself, and he considers. With time and effort, he could try to bridge something.

But he doesn't know, ever know if he's here long enough to make that matter.]

I don't think the advisers are happy with the choice either, nor am I dismissing what he'd done. But if he truly is looking for a second chance, then I will give it to him, Nerva. No one else has to, or are obligated to.

But he is obligated a chance to be safe among his fellow agents. And you aren't the only one who has struck him. Granted, he was an ass, and I'm not excusing that.

[Fate stands up and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.] This is a difficult matter, but I won't ask for more than you can give. If that's what it is, then I understand.

As long as he's doing no harm to anyone in the Inquisition, he will see no more harm from me. [That was as much as she could offer. It's hard to forget that Anders and Fate are friends. More than friends, possibly, which makes her guts twist in ways she really doesn't want to think about.]

I won't embarrass you again. I promise.

[But if Anders was the cause of harm to Fate, in any way, she would kill him on the spot.]

... You have a habit, of giving people second chances. [It's a quiet observation.] And one I... admire. Even if I find it difficult, myself. I only hope you do not come to regret it.

That's all that I can ask of you, I know.

[He cracks a smile at her.] I don't get embarrassed. I was more frustrated that it happened at all. But it was late, people had drinks -- things will happen.

[The notation makes him pause a moment as he fetches his hat. The brim's soft leather is pinched between two fingers as he considers, then he shrugs faintly.]

When I think it is sincerely desired, I don't see why it cannot be sincerely given. But I agree; I don't want to regret it either.

But if someone is really... trying, then I think they should be given the opportunity. At least once. [The tone of voice he uses is softer.]

[She had let her hand slip out of his when he stood, and now she folds it into tunic, on her lap. A child's urge almost overcomes her - to tell him not to leave, to stay, just for the night - but she smothers it down hard and fast.]

... I won't deny him his chance, if you wish to grant it to him. -Her voice is also quiet.] Even if - it is not something I can do, I... trust you.

[She had to, or her shoulder would not be bare now, growing cold.]

[A smile is offered to Nerva. It's tired, but it's an honest one.]

Thank you, Nerva.

And I trust you as well. [Certainly more than Anders, but this was still important to at least... attempt.]

[The childish plea is there on her tongue - even nearly almost on her face, and it takes a good deal to shove it down. She has never needed another to fend off the nightmares. She did not need another now.]

I - will make it up to you. Somehow.

You have nothing to make up for as far as I can tell.

[Carefully, he watches her face; after so many years and so many card games, he's learned to read people incredibly well and their natures. For Nerva, there's something she wants to say, and isn't.]

But you can tell me what's on your mind, you know. Part of the whole trust and friendship with us and all.

[A heat crawls up her neck, her pale skin tinting red, the shame and the embarrassment causing the blush despite herself. She could feel it, and hated it, like her body betraying a weakness that otherwise would be invisible.

Her fingers clenched into the fabric of her tunic, unclenched and then clenched again. Self loathing turned her throat sour.]

I... It is ridiculous. But if I - if the nightmares - If I cannot sleep, I would - welcome company.

...Oh.

[That startles him, but he understands that is an immense sign of trust. To admit to nightmares, and admit to a need to anyone.

He couldn't tease her about it. That would be a disservice.

Twisted Fate removes his hat again. When he approaches, he leans in, hesitating before he's kissing her forehead.]

I'm here for you, madame. What are friends for, eh?

[The shame was so overwhelming that his small surprised 'oh' was near unbearable. A shimmer of panic, indistinguishable from rage, simmered briefly and she considered recanting her statement, declaring everything was fine and good day to you, Ser--

But then he leaned down, lips pressing to her forehead and her heart stopped - stalling utterly before slamming twice as hard in her chest, as if to make up lost time.

Some self deceptions were easy, intuitive - like a cloak worn upon her shoulders that she no longer even realized she wore. But then... Then there were times that it was impossible to deny something, even from herself. Impossible to continue lying to herself.

Merde.

She hadn't answered fast enough, the kiss having derailed her far enough to cause a hard reboot, but finally she seemed to notice the lengthening silence and forced herself to snap out of it. Her fingertips reached up, resting featherlight on the protruding bone of his hip, thumb carefully pressed to his skin.]

Thank you.

[The contact makes him pause. Were it anyone else, he'd go out of his way to seduce, to play, to flirt -- but he finds that he respects her so much, cares so much that if he were to pursue it, Creators, he'd want it to be real and lasting and it would be impossible and frustrating.

Besides, for right now, she needs the kindness of a friend. That is for her.]

You're welcome.

Where do you want me, Nerva?

[Where do you want me, Nerva?

It was an innocent question, or at least posed innocently, and from Fate that meant quite a lot - she knew just how easy it was, to tease her, especially flustered like this. Knew the restraint involved.

(Could feel the kindness.)

It was an innocent question, but did not come with incredibly innocent answers, and it took everything she had just to try to ignore the answers that her body wanted to give. The ones that demanded to override her concious mind. The ones that were suddenly very, very well aware of how small the room was and how close he stood and the deep, subtle scent - soap and leather and a touch of the forest - that she could taste on every breath.

It was temptation, pure and simple, and it had been a long time since she had to deal with it, so forcefully.

A long time since it had grown from such kindness. (If it had ever.)

Her fingers twitched with thought, but she didn't give into the urge to pull him down into her lap, but at the same time couldn't quite pull away.]

I-- I am sure it will pass. I should not-- [But the thought of dismissing him, now, was almost worse than the thought of begging him to stay, and it twisted her gut painfully.]

-- It will pass, but if you would... stay with me until it does, I would be.. extremely thankful.

[She shifted further up onto the mattress, to give him room to actually sit down, if he was inclined to.]

Of course.

[Carefully, Tobrevas sits himself down next to her. Nightmares and issues of the past catching up to you -- all things he's sadly familiar with, and he would not leave her alone like this. Not when it lingers as badly as it does.

His hand finds hers once more, giving a gentle squeeze.]

I'm here, as long as you need me to be.

[A dangerous promise, but she's already setting up rules for herself. Friends. He's here as her friend, and she will respect that.

It's more exhaustion, than anything else, that tilts her head until its resting on his shoulder, almost slumped sideways against him - as if she'd been holding herself stiff and poised for days and finally released the tension to simply melt in at his side.

A voice chides her in the back of her mind. Half for taking advantage of his kindness and half for believing that it kindness at all - like a rabid dog circling and snarling and waiting once more to be loosed.

But she is too tired, and it has been so long since she allowed herself to lean on anyone, that she can't help herself.]

I don't deserve it. But thank you.

I think I know what you deserve, Nerva.

[It's spoken quietly, knowing. It was an outburst from pain, and she's doing her best to reprimand herself. Enough has happened, and he's not particularly into a blame game right at the moment.

Instead, he sits, feeling her head on his shoulder, and it's warm and comforting to have. With her.

In due time, she slips off into a sleep, and he finds himself stuck.

But it's not in such a bad way at all.

After all, where else could he want to be right now?]

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