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There's a ghost outside the office door on whatever day it is that Vandelin happens to be conducting his work for the Northern Powers office--at least, a ghost insofar as Kit has done an admirable job of ensuring he hasn't seen or been seen by Vandelin since their last conversation. (The one that changed everything.)
But he's a grown-ass adult, and he can't think of anyone else in the project better suited to the task at hand than Vandelin. So here he is, struggling not to feel a little like he's forcing himself to walk across glass when he knocks on the door.
But he's a grown-ass adult, and he can't think of anyone else in the project better suited to the task at hand than Vandelin. So here he is, struggling not to feel a little like he's forcing himself to walk across glass when he knocks on the door.
Vandelin doesn't like to be blindsided by emotional situations--not ever, not even in private, but certainly never at a place where he works. He, too, has kept his path as neatly out of Kit's orbit as he could. To do anything otherwise would be to defeat the entire purpose of leaving him. If he's to stay just as vulnerable, just as attached, just as preoccupied with him, he might as well have stayed.
But some preoccupation is unavoidable. He's prepared himself for the possibility of having to speak to Kit again, or work with him, and that's the only reason why his face is so studiously neutral as he recognizes that gait outside the door. He allows himself a moment, just one, to steel himself, and calls "Come in," as he would to anyone.
But some preoccupation is unavoidable. He's prepared himself for the possibility of having to speak to Kit again, or work with him, and that's the only reason why his face is so studiously neutral as he recognizes that gait outside the door. He allows himself a moment, just one, to steel himself, and calls "Come in," as he would to anyone.
He'd almost hoped that no one would answer, or that he'd misread the schedule and would discover it wasn't actually Vandelin's shift after all. Then, "Come in," says that familiar voice. Kit feels his heart lurch unpleasantly, presses his lips into a thin line, then presses the latch and opens the door.
No pleasantries--he can't handle the small talk, not now. "I've got," he starts, pauses to swallow, "some intelligence here from Benedict Artemaeus on his family, their colleagues... Should be some promising leads on the Venatori in here." He forces himself to look up from the paperwork in his hands to meet Vandelin's eyes; his own are, despite his best efforts, no good at masking his hurt.
He clears his throat and offers the papers out.
No pleasantries--he can't handle the small talk, not now. "I've got," he starts, pauses to swallow, "some intelligence here from Benedict Artemaeus on his family, their colleagues... Should be some promising leads on the Venatori in here." He forces himself to look up from the paperwork in his hands to meet Vandelin's eyes; his own are, despite his best efforts, no good at masking his hurt.
He clears his throat and offers the papers out.
There is every valid reason for Kit to be bringing this project to him--Vandelin should, by rights, be flattered to be trusted with it. He can't help but resent Kit for it nonetheless. Vandelin has never been able to keep himself from blaming others for reminding him of his own mistakes.
His eyes scan Kit's face impassively, wide and luminous and recording every detail of bruise and stitch. He imagines, in spite of himself, reaching out to touch and cradle and soothe--
--imagines, too, being rebuffed in that way Kit always had, and takes the papers without another glance.
"Thank you," he says. "I'm sure we can make good use of it."
His eyes scan Kit's face impassively, wide and luminous and recording every detail of bruise and stitch. He imagines, in spite of himself, reaching out to touch and cradle and soothe--
--imagines, too, being rebuffed in that way Kit always had, and takes the papers without another glance.
"Thank you," he says. "I'm sure we can make good use of it."
It’s as neat and clean an exchange as Kit could have hoped for. It also gently breaks his heart anew in a way he’d not been expecting.
“Right,” he replies, voice faint, then clears his throat again, repeats himself more confidently, “right.” He takes the hurt and tucks it away, struggles to ignore the deep fingers of it still gripping tight on his heart. I loved you, he could have said, and it would have been true, but it would do no good now. Why drag this out? Why linger here hoping for something that’s gone?
Absently, he rests his hand atop Vandelin’s desk, then straightens up. “All right, well just—let me know if anything good comes of it. Or give it to Scoutmaster Ashara.” A pause; he can’t look at him again. Then, quietly, “see you around, salroka.” He turns to leave.
“Right,” he replies, voice faint, then clears his throat again, repeats himself more confidently, “right.” He takes the hurt and tucks it away, struggles to ignore the deep fingers of it still gripping tight on his heart. I loved you, he could have said, and it would have been true, but it would do no good now. Why drag this out? Why linger here hoping for something that’s gone?
Absently, he rests his hand atop Vandelin’s desk, then straightens up. “All right, well just—let me know if anything good comes of it. Or give it to Scoutmaster Ashara.” A pause; he can’t look at him again. Then, quietly, “see you around, salroka.” He turns to leave.
I loved you too, he could say, if it would do the slightest bit of good. I loved you to fucking distraction whenever you were off saving every poor wretch in Thedas at your own expense, and I couldn't think of a damn thing but your safety for as long as you were gone.
I loved you when you acted like there was no greater imposition than my asking you to be careful and keep me posted. I loved you even when I knew that not a single word I said to you would ever, ever stick in your head or make a shred of difference. I don't need to lose any more sleep over the kind of love that feels like living on the edge of a precipice.
"Safe travels," he says, and returns to his work. Saying it won't make them so. But he'll say it anyway, and mean it as much as he always has.
I loved you when you acted like there was no greater imposition than my asking you to be careful and keep me posted. I loved you even when I knew that not a single word I said to you would ever, ever stick in your head or make a shred of difference. I don't need to lose any more sleep over the kind of love that feels like living on the edge of a precipice.
"Safe travels," he says, and returns to his work. Saying it won't make them so. But he'll say it anyway, and mean it as much as he always has.
If Vandelin said the words out loud, they would cut deeply, but Kit would not find fault with them. Loving a man who belongs to death already is a bit like that, isn't it?
His throat is tight, his eyes wet--must be the cold, dry air--when he steps quietly out of Vandelin's office and eases the door closed behind him.
His throat is tight, his eyes wet--must be the cold, dry air--when he steps quietly out of Vandelin's office and eases the door closed behind him.
He knocks on the door. Or rather, he bumps it a few times with his elbow because his hands are slightly occupied holding a small towel-wrapped bundle.
"Vandelin? Are you in there? I've something for you, if you are." If he's not, Anders is going to feel very silly and hope that nobody is around to hear or see this. It's not like he has any great reason to know Vandelin's schedule, but calling into an empty office can be slightly embarrassing.
"Vandelin? Are you in there? I've something for you, if you are." If he's not, Anders is going to feel very silly and hope that nobody is around to hear or see this. It's not like he has any great reason to know Vandelin's schedule, but calling into an empty office can be slightly embarrassing.
Vandelin has been spending far more time in the office than usual, reasoning that maybe if he just makes himself look he's working especially hard, people will think his refusal to go outside is diligence and industriousness rather than just an inconvenient fear of cold.
Anders has caught him at a good time, because he is not, in fact, in the middle of anything he can't set aside--especially not with an incentive like that.
"If it's food, I'll be delighted," he calls back, on his way over, "and if it's medicine, I'll forgive you." He opens the door.
Anders has caught him at a good time, because he is not, in fact, in the middle of anything he can't set aside--especially not with an incentive like that.
"If it's food, I'll be delighted," he calls back, on his way over, "and if it's medicine, I'll forgive you." He opens the door.
"Um," he calls helpfully, looking down at the little wriggling shape. As Vandelin opens the door Anders looks back up. "We could... consider it a form of medicine? Therapy? A reason to take a little more care of yourself?"
The fluffy, slightly discolored peach towel is offered out to Vandelin as a little pink nose pokes out. "Old enough to leave mom, which is good as... I'm not certain what happened to her. She didn't come by to check on the little ones today."
The fluffy, slightly discolored peach towel is offered out to Vandelin as a little pink nose pokes out. "Old enough to leave mom, which is good as... I'm not certain what happened to her. She didn't come by to check on the little ones today."
"Oh--"
Whether or not Vandelin will ever admit that he could use any of the things Anders now lists, the reasoning doesn't matter. The squirming little kitten frees himself further still, flicking his marmalade ears as the towel brushes against them, and Vandelin reaches immediately out to gather the bundle into his arms, half in love already.
"That's not good," he murmurs, the problem still registering through his distraction, even as he begins to scritch under the kitten's chin with delicate fingertips. "I do hope it's only a fluke..."
Whether or not Vandelin will ever admit that he could use any of the things Anders now lists, the reasoning doesn't matter. The squirming little kitten frees himself further still, flicking his marmalade ears as the towel brushes against them, and Vandelin reaches immediately out to gather the bundle into his arms, half in love already.
"That's not good," he murmurs, the problem still registering through his distraction, even as he begins to scritch under the kitten's chin with delicate fingertips. "I do hope it's only a fluke..."
Vandelin's falling in love. He'd had a feeling, after how the elf had reacted to Pawdric and Purrelden, that this would work well for everyone involved. Now he's confident in it.
"It's Kirkwall," he says a little sadly. He'd liked the mother cat. She didn't hang around a lot or trust people to pet her, but she'd known to chirp at him for food when she needed it. "They're at an age where they need more warmth than they can generate, and considering how the city doesn't exactly look after cats it seemed prudent to get them where they'd be loved and looked after rather than risk a cold night for them."
If she does come back and is upset, he'll be there for her. He's already planning on a couple of visits to her nesting spot over the next few days. But this way he can make sure the little ones make it. Speaking of making it...
"I've got, hang on." Anders fishes out a couple of small jars from a belt pouch. "Can I set these on your desk? They're a blend of cooked and mashed chicken and fish and a little milk so that it's very wet and easy for him to digest. There's a woman in the kitchen who likes providing kitten food, Tirial, but he'll only need a jar a day."
"It's Kirkwall," he says a little sadly. He'd liked the mother cat. She didn't hang around a lot or trust people to pet her, but she'd known to chirp at him for food when she needed it. "They're at an age where they need more warmth than they can generate, and considering how the city doesn't exactly look after cats it seemed prudent to get them where they'd be loved and looked after rather than risk a cold night for them."
If she does come back and is upset, he'll be there for her. He's already planning on a couple of visits to her nesting spot over the next few days. But this way he can make sure the little ones make it. Speaking of making it...
"I've got, hang on." Anders fishes out a couple of small jars from a belt pouch. "Can I set these on your desk? They're a blend of cooked and mashed chicken and fish and a little milk so that it's very wet and easy for him to digest. There's a woman in the kitchen who likes providing kitten food, Tirial, but he'll only need a jar a day."
"Do I feed it to him all at once, or just gradually throughout the day?"
There's so very little Vandelin knows about the care and keeping of kittens, or of grown cats, or of any other animal--but his usual method of dealing with this, holing himself up in the library until he's found a book from which he can draw sufficient conclusion without ever having to ask another living being for help, would be counterproductive here when he has Anders available as all the resource he needs.
Loath as he is to admit it, Anders is right. Vandelin can take or leave almost anything about his own health or well-being, but even his absurdly overpowered sense of pride won't let an orphaned kitten starve or freeze for its sake. He'll look after himself if he must.
"I can probably make it myself if that's the whole recipe," he muses, as the kitten digs curious claws into his robes. "But I suppose it would be easier to let her. He'll need a name..."
There's so very little Vandelin knows about the care and keeping of kittens, or of grown cats, or of any other animal--but his usual method of dealing with this, holing himself up in the library until he's found a book from which he can draw sufficient conclusion without ever having to ask another living being for help, would be counterproductive here when he has Anders available as all the resource he needs.
Loath as he is to admit it, Anders is right. Vandelin can take or leave almost anything about his own health or well-being, but even his absurdly overpowered sense of pride won't let an orphaned kitten starve or freeze for its sake. He'll look after himself if he must.
"I can probably make it myself if that's the whole recipe," he muses, as the kitten digs curious claws into his robes. "But I suppose it would be easier to let her. He'll need a name..."
"Gradually, throughout the day." His voice is quiet as he sets down the jars on the elf's desk; there's no need to disrupt the bonding process between man and kitten. It's clearly written all over Vandelin's face that he's in love.
"And as far as a name..." Anders considers it for a moment, looking over at the kitten. "Hasmeowl? Free Meowcher? It strikes me that I don't know as much about you personally as I perhaps ought. I don't know if you've heroes, or friends you'd want to name a cat after, or if you've any idea of who your family is or was."
"And as far as a name..." Anders considers it for a moment, looking over at the kitten. "Hasmeowl? Free Meowcher? It strikes me that I don't know as much about you personally as I perhaps ought. I don't know if you've heroes, or friends you'd want to name a cat after, or if you've any idea of who your family is or was."
"I did want to see what kind of pun you'd come up with," he says, with a snort of laughter--at the puns themselves, and at the twitch of the kitten's whiskers as he makes his determined little way up toward Vandelin's shoulder. "They seem to be a specialty of yours. But there are other options, it's true..."
He thinks Myr deserves the chance to throw a few suggestions into the ring, too, and perhaps once the office is occupied again, he'll ask Araceli--she's had so many pets to name, and outdone herself every time.
The question makes him glance over, thoughtful, concealing the barest little stirring of unease. No, there would be no reason for Anders to know very much in the way of the personal when Vandelin hasn't volunteered it--nothing about friends, of which he has few, or heroes, of which he tries to have none, and certainly not about family, of which he has an embarrassment of riches as far as mages go, and Myr doesn't talk about it either, because twenty years of desperately-ingrained habit is not so easily set aside when there's still incentive to stay quiet.
"My family would probably have wanted me to name him something deadly dull and pious like Hessarian," he says lightly, able enough to remember back to the alienage. "I would have tried to get away with Meowferath, but from everything I recall of him, I doubt my father would have been amused." He detaches the kitten gently from his robes and cradles him, thinking. "I only had sisters, or I'd name him for one of them..."
But there had been Uncle Iolan, too. The idea hits him with an accompanying surge of emotion that makes him clam up altogether, loath to let even a friend see it.
"Anyway, I'll give it some more thought. He may be Hasmeowl yet. I'd be sure to credit you, but I think everyone will know a name like that was your doing without my having to say so." He grins.
He thinks Myr deserves the chance to throw a few suggestions into the ring, too, and perhaps once the office is occupied again, he'll ask Araceli--she's had so many pets to name, and outdone herself every time.
The question makes him glance over, thoughtful, concealing the barest little stirring of unease. No, there would be no reason for Anders to know very much in the way of the personal when Vandelin hasn't volunteered it--nothing about friends, of which he has few, or heroes, of which he tries to have none, and certainly not about family, of which he has an embarrassment of riches as far as mages go, and Myr doesn't talk about it either, because twenty years of desperately-ingrained habit is not so easily set aside when there's still incentive to stay quiet.
"My family would probably have wanted me to name him something deadly dull and pious like Hessarian," he says lightly, able enough to remember back to the alienage. "I would have tried to get away with Meowferath, but from everything I recall of him, I doubt my father would have been amused." He detaches the kitten gently from his robes and cradles him, thinking. "I only had sisters, or I'd name him for one of them..."
But there had been Uncle Iolan, too. The idea hits him with an accompanying surge of emotion that makes him clam up altogether, loath to let even a friend see it.
"Anyway, I'll give it some more thought. He may be Hasmeowl yet. I'd be sure to credit you, but I think everyone will know a name like that was your doing without my having to say so." He grins.
He grins at the snort of laughter, though it fades a little at the glance and change of tone. Vandelin doesn't owe him anything, but he hadn't thought the elf was deliberately hiding his background until now. The thought gets pushed back. Maybe he's misread their friendship, maybe he hasn't, but it doesn't matter at the moment. He's here to try to help Vandelin's mental state, hence the cat.
"They may well figure it out," Anders says as he tries to return his smile to where it was. It's close, at least. "I'll leave you to bond with him, and you can call me on the crystals if you've any questions at all. I'm glad to help with cats."
He half-turns and pauses, looking back at Vandelin. "And if... If you ever want to talk, you can call me as well, you know."
"They may well figure it out," Anders says as he tries to return his smile to where it was. It's close, at least. "I'll leave you to bond with him, and you can call me on the crystals if you've any questions at all. I'm glad to help with cats."
He half-turns and pauses, looking back at Vandelin. "And if... If you ever want to talk, you can call me as well, you know."
Vandelin. I'm working on a project and I was wondering if you were interested. It's a support group of sorts, a community thing.
[He's alone, but at that, he gets up quietly and finds a place where he's even less likely to be overheard or interrupted before he responds.]
I hate to point out that we haven't historically had the best of luck with that, but it is worth another shot. Who all is involved this time?
I hate to point out that we haven't historically had the best of luck with that, but it is worth another shot. Who all is involved this time?
There's no time like the present for another try?
[His voice is a little wry.]
I'm inviting every mage who isn't a Loyalist. We don't have what they have - shared view of the future, support from each other as well as the Templars and Chantry - and we're hurting for it, I believe.
[Vandelin doesn't say a lot... so Anders is feeling like saying a little extra.]
We're not alone, but I think many feel like they are, and I want an end to that.
[His voice is a little wry.]
I'm inviting every mage who isn't a Loyalist. We don't have what they have - shared view of the future, support from each other as well as the Templars and Chantry - and we're hurting for it, I believe.
[Vandelin doesn't say a lot... so Anders is feeling like saying a little extra.]
We're not alone, but I think many feel like they are, and I want an end to that.
It's a fair assessment. [And his own pride, more than anything, that would hold him back, though the grudge left over from that first encounter with Nell has cooled. His reservations are largely personal, and he does his best to set them aside and consider the proposal objectively.]
It's true. We're more scattered here than we were during the war-- [The earlier portion of the war, at least; what survivors had been left of his ragtag group had mostly gone their separate ways by the time he reached Kirkwall.] It would be good to have us all in a room, if we can.
I'm just debating how much liquor would be good to have on hand.
It's true. We're more scattered here than we were during the war-- [The earlier portion of the war, at least; what survivors had been left of his ragtag group had mostly gone their separate ways by the time he reached Kirkwall.] It would be good to have us all in a room, if we can.
I'm just debating how much liquor would be good to have on hand.
[He coughs, trying not to laugh and failing just a little.]
I've already seen to some supply of drink. Along with food, so hopefully things will be a little moderated by that. But if you want to bring extra liquor on the tenth to [specific warehouse], I'll not dissuade you.
So far I've five definite yesses, then you who sounds like you're leaning toward a yes, and I'm waiting to hear back from others. We may not get all of us in a room, but we will at least have a start.
I've already seen to some supply of drink. Along with food, so hopefully things will be a little moderated by that. But if you want to bring extra liquor on the tenth to [specific warehouse], I'll not dissuade you.
So far I've five definite yesses, then you who sounds like you're leaning toward a yes, and I'm waiting to hear back from others. We may not get all of us in a room, but we will at least have a start.
No, you can count me as a yes.
[Stubbornly, a commitment made before he can talk himself out of it, stomping as hard as he can on the fear that curls upward through his stomach at the thought of having to walk all the way to that warehouse in the icy cold, knowing how painfully his once-frostbitten nerves will protest it. He can't let it keep him confined to quarters until spring as if he still were under templar guard. He can't let anyone else know he would think of such a thing at all.]
Who's agreed so far? I'm wondering if I even know them. Which in and of itself is proof enough that we could use a group like this.
[Stubbornly, a commitment made before he can talk himself out of it, stomping as hard as he can on the fear that curls upward through his stomach at the thought of having to walk all the way to that warehouse in the icy cold, knowing how painfully his once-frostbitten nerves will protest it. He can't let it keep him confined to quarters until spring as if he still were under templar guard. He can't let anyone else know he would think of such a thing at all.]
Who's agreed so far? I'm wondering if I even know them. Which in and of itself is proof enough that we could use a group like this.
[The confirmation is welcome. He's steadily feeling more hopeful for this as the evening goes on and replies roll in.]
Twisted Fate, Bethany, Gareth, Samouel, and Fern. Gareth is a little provisional, apparently he's only coming if Nell comes and I've not heard back from her yet, but then there's me and I'm a yes so you make six certain.
I... Let's come up with a hand-signal, shall we, in case she comes and she's harassing you again? Then I can come over and interfere.
Twisted Fate, Bethany, Gareth, Samouel, and Fern. Gareth is a little provisional, apparently he's only coming if Nell comes and I've not heard back from her yet, but then there's me and I'm a yes so you make six certain.
I... Let's come up with a hand-signal, shall we, in case she comes and she's harassing you again? Then I can come over and interfere.
Edited 2018-01-02 06:37 (UTC)
Well, I know two of those. By name, mostly. None of them well.
[But the number is promising, and he won't object to Nell's being there, even when his presence and hers might have been mutually exclusive before. Anders has no way of knowing anything's changed on that front, but even so, Vandelin's arched eyebrow is almost audible somehow on his end of the crystal.]
'Again?' If she decides to start harassing people, we'll have a bigger problem on our hands than how many people show up, but I don't recall her ever harassing anyone before. As I remember it, we disagreed and parted ways.
I'm sure I could handle the hypothetical on my own, though. Thank you.
[But the number is promising, and he won't object to Nell's being there, even when his presence and hers might have been mutually exclusive before. Anders has no way of knowing anything's changed on that front, but even so, Vandelin's arched eyebrow is almost audible somehow on his end of the crystal.]
'Again?' If she decides to start harassing people, we'll have a bigger problem on our hands than how many people show up, but I don't recall her ever harassing anyone before. As I remember it, we disagreed and parted ways.
I'm sure I could handle the hypothetical on my own, though. Thank you.
I... was fairly certain I recalled stepping in when she got heated and then she left. Without ever bothering to elaborate on any of what I'd asked, no less.
[There's still some annoyance there. He'd invited her, offered up help and support, and had needed to intervene and then she'd dismissed him completely. Mages need each other but apparently she's too good for him and he can't say he's fine with that.]
She may skip this too, maybe no one is worthy of her time. Or maybe it's simply you and me.
[There's still some annoyance there. He'd invited her, offered up help and support, and had needed to intervene and then she'd dismissed him completely. Mages need each other but apparently she's too good for him and he can't say he's fine with that.]
She may skip this too, maybe no one is worthy of her time. Or maybe it's simply you and me.
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