Why don't I just do a little dance?

Anders hadn't been sleeping well for weeks, and Dante's sudden departure hadn't made it any easier. It wasn’t anything unusual for Dante to spend a night or two away, either because of demons or because he was occupied elsewhere. But given the timing, Anders couldn’t help but worry.

The room was too quiet now. It was nearing dawn before he finally fell into a restless slumber.

And in this sleep, he dreamed.

( Read more... )



[OOC: Preplayed with the beautiful spin_kick_snap. Closed post, OOC is love.

Kathy was an idiot.

Kathy was suicidal, and irrational, and self-important, and probably a few hundred things Anders couldn't put words to quite then. He kept replaying their conversation in his head, except somehow in those versions he found the exact right thing to say to convince her to portal back immediately and let Los Angeles take care of itself.

And somehow, while he was having those discussions with her in his head, he found himself throwing some clothes into a bag and looking up portal prices to her LA. Because jumping right into the middle of things was obviously the most logical way to deal with a friend intent on fighting a zombie apocalypse.

[OOC: Primarily for one, but open.]

Anders was a man of many talents, and ranking high among them was a talent for self-pity. After the disastrous encounter with Nathan the day before, he'd gone back to his room to mope around for the rest of the day. Lachlan was better company than people, anyhow. At least when Lachlan avoided him it wasn't personal -- it was just part of being a cat.

He'd always known Nathan kept parts of himself shut away; he even understood why, or thought he did. But to be flatly told to go away after being together so long -- it hurt. It hurt deeper than Anders would have guessed it would. And he was determined not to go chasing after Nathan to give him a chance to say the same thing again, at least not yet.

Without class or work to keep him busy, Anders felt his foul mood continuing after he woke up. Determined not to let it ruin a second day, he pulled out one of the spellbooks he'd cadged from the magic shop and opened it to a chapter on the use of Entropy. If he wasn't ready to seek anyone out -- and he didn't think he was -- at least he could distract himself.

[OOC: Cracked door, open post even though he's not in the best mood.]

Anders had a few days off between Rand's class and his other two, and it unsettled him. He never knew quite what to do with longish stretches of free time. The Circle scheduled every minute for Apprentices, and even a year of freedom hadn't broken him of that nagging sense he should usually be doing something.

Today he had filled the gap with a trip to the mainland, which explained the new t-shirts and shorts he was sorting through on his bed. He liked Demon Marcus perfectly well (especially if he ignored the name) but sometimes it was just nice to get away and see people he didn't see every day. He'd had lunch in a little cafe, bought the clothes and a ridiculous epic novel or two, and thoroughly enjoyed the miniature escape. Maybe next time he'd even want company.

[OOC: Cracked door, open post!]

It turned out that collecting the specific fungus Leland had asked for was not quite the easy task Anders had anticipated. He'd found only four rocks with the stuff in hours of scouring the cove, and one of them bore such a small patch he hardly expected the shopkeeper to accept it. His hands were scraped raw from digging up stone by the time the darkness drove him back to the dorms.

He sat on his bed, meaning to heal his bleeding palms but mostly staring into space. As a Tower apprentice, he'd often dreamed of breaking into the locked cellar where phylacteries were kept and stealing his own. Without the enchanted bit of his blood preserved in an amulet, Templars would never be able to track him again, and he'd never have to worry about being hunted down. If the phylactery had mysteriously turned up on the island, Anders felt it had to be a sign from the Maker. It was too clearly meant for him to be a coincidence.

And to come that close to freedom and have Cassandra snatch it away -- he couldn't bear it. He vowed to be back at the cove at first light, and not to leave until he had twenty respectable rocks to hand over.

[OOC: Cracked door, open post.]

It had been barely more than 48 hours since Anders was last in this room, this safe space that was bright with Rapunzel's paints and littered with his own clothes and books. It felt like it might as well have been years. When he'd left, he could be flip about killing because he hadn't needed to do much of it, not enough to make it real. Now he'd done more than he had expected outside a war. (He didn't feel all that bad about it. Deep down, he wondered if that were a problem.)

In Rapture, he'd been fueled by potions and adrenaline -- too tightly wound by the situation to sleep, to rest, to eat more than a mouthful or so when they'd had the chance. It had gotten him through the horror of it all, and Nathan's pizza had helped dull the gnawing in his stomach. But now ... now he felt, all at once, as if he'd die on his feet if he didn't lie down immediately.

He took off his boots and sprawled on his bed. Drifting with his eyes closed, he imagined what would happen if he took the same crew back to Thedas.

The templars would never see them coming.

[OOC:Closed door, open post!]