not_every_mage | Room 322, Thursday Afternoon

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Room 322, Thursday Afternoon

Anders was ... tired, mostly. Just tired. He halfway wanted to rewind time two months and make different choices so he wouldn't have to care so much about what Kathy was doing.

He couldn't rewind time, but he could pretend nothing was wrong. Which was why the afternoon found him at his desk, scrawling away at the latest revisions to what was rapidly becoming a book-length treatise on mage rights. That was more important than anything happening in Los Angeles, anyhow.

[OOC: Cracked door, open post!]

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"To you," Anders informed him, with a snicker. "Did you ever meet Barry? Someday I want to hear you and him talk just to count the 'fucks.'"

Barry would probably win, but not because Dante hadn't put up a fight.

"I think you'd officially be giving too many fucks about fucks if you did that," Dante said.

Philosophically. Very much so. He barely managed to sail about a 'give more fucks about fucking' crack in favor of, "Maybe you should just scrap the whole sixty pages and spraypaint something 'Fuck the Chantry' or something."

"Watch me," Anders nodded, with a more vigorous gesture than would have accompanied it before he started drinking. "By the time I get out of this place, I'll have just stopped giving a fuck. I'll be spraypainting shit everywhere. Why not, right?"

Dante's nihilism was catching.

If certain people's current situation was anything to go by, it was the sanest philosophy in the house.

"Aw," Dante said, sliding back until he was sitting on the desk, bumping away a few papers. "Anders the rebel revolutionary. That'd be kinda hot."

Oh, for god's sake, don't encourage it.

Anders smiled -- a real, if fleeting, expression of appreciation. The hand that wasn't holding the bottle came to rest on Dante's knee. "I like it," he said. "It's much better than Anders the whiny apostate."

And with that, Dante had personally doomed the Kirkwall Chantry.

This was why it was a good thing Dante's parents didn't hail from Thedas. He'd have caused no small amount of trouble, roaming around as a Spirit of Rebellion.

"Whining never did anybody any good," he said sagely. "Now fucking shit up is a great use of time."

He waved his bottle vaguely at Anders, or his hand, or both, took another drink, then set it down behind him on the desk.

"What's the best thing you ever wrecked?" Anders asked out of curiosity. "I feel like you could give lessons on fucking shit up."

He took another swallow before setting his bottle next to Dante's. He didn't want them to get lonely.

Dante thought about it, back of his feet kicking gently against the desk because sitting still was stupid, that was what. "Broke a whole chunk of the place right off when I broke outta jail before coming here," he said. "Ripped the head off of one of the demons that ran the place, hit the real world, aaaand accidentally hit a load-bearing wall on my way out."

Beat.

"That was fun."

"I'm jealous," Anders decided. "You ripped the head off a demon. If I were a bard I'd write a song about that even if you hadn't wrecked a building too."

Dante snickered. "Eh," he said, shifting some to face Anders. "All in a day's work. Now if you really wanna know a piece of art in fucking someone's day up, you shoulda seen Iz and Ada take the cash off of drunk, rich assholes at a strip club a couple of months ago. We wrecked some of their cars, too."

He'd call himself a terrible influence, but he was pretty sure the girls had come out of the box that way.

"That sounds amazing,but how'd you get their cars?" Anders wanted to know,then thought about the possibilities. "Did the girls take the keys, too?

Dante looked at him, amused. "Nah," he said, "Just knocked out some windows and went from there. Ada hotwired a jeep for us to take for a ride, though."

"Go Ada," Anders said approvingly, and took a nice long sip from his bottle before putting it down again.

"I took driving back when I got here," he musedd. "I have no idea if I could still do it."

"We should find out some time," Dante mused.

He'd have proposed just about anything right now, no matter how stupid, though. He was familiar with the best ways to distract himself from anything that felt like a hole in his life, but this teenage girl-shaped one was Anders' too. He felt a weird urge to make sure Anders was distracted, too.

(That weird urge was called 'friendship'. And possibly 'shared trauma'.)

He let out a soft snicker as a mental image came to mind. "Steal a car somewhere on the mainland, get some spray paint, drive to your world and just go wild," he said. "Bet your clerics would be too thrown to even realize what the fuck was going on."

That sent Anders into a fit of giggles. "They'd go mad," he predicted. "They wouldn't be able to decide whether the car was a new kind of demon or a dwarvish invention, and they wouldn't know what to do with it. Just watching people argue about it would make it worth it."

"Meanwhile you've messed up half their shit," Dante said, grinning, "Tuck a copy of this beast--" He patted whatever part of Anders' manifesto came closest, "In an altar or something." Beat. "Nail it to a door? I think nailing this shit to a door is a thing with the Church."

"First I spraypaint everything, then I nail it to everything I can nail it to," Anders nodded. "And you're coming along to help spraypaint everything and tear heads off demons, if we run into any."

The warmth he felt was about 40% booze, 60% friendship.

Speaking of booze, Dante hadn't had some for at least five minutes now, and that was sad. He picked up... one of the bottles, not sure which, and took a quick sip, thumping his foot gently against Anders' ankle to signify approval.

Then he put the bottle back.

"It'll be a good time," he said sagely. "Maybe some people'll learn something. Like how demons are shit and so's this Chantry crap."

Anders believed in a lot of the Chantry crap, but his desire to get into a discussion of the nuances of Andraste's message was quite possibly at an all-time low. He picked up the other bottle instead and waved it gently in Dante's direction, as if toasting.

"It'll be glorious," he said. "Lots of dead demons and scandalized Chantry sisters. What could be better?"

"... Me actually making the 'nailing' joke I should have like a minute ago," Dante said, pulling a thoughtfully annoyed face. "I'm getting sloppy."

"I don't know," Anders said doubtfully. "Chantry doors are all fancy and carved. Nailing someone against one would hurt."

"Yeah, but I bet you can get some grip going if you turn around."

Don't give him an excuse to scandalize Elthina in a few years, Anders.

"... and here I thought I was doing fine not thinking about sex."

Elthina would have been scandalized anyhow.

True.

Dante shrugged. "That's only fun for so long," he said. "Especially when you can talk about doing it against a house of worship."

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Room 322, Thursday Afternoon

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