Anders (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
birdhousesoul) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
exsiliumlogs2012-03-25 07:19 pm
birdhousesoul) wrote in exsiliumlogs2012-03-25 07:19 pm
(no subject)
Date & Time: Not too long after Martin's kaffeeklatsch with Delphine
Characters:Martin Septim, Anders, and Nathaniel Howe
Summary: Anders is made of tact
Warnings:None? I dunno eta: Gross stories about blood magic
Anders still isn't sure what to make of Delphine's sassy comeback to his very tactful questions. All he knows is that this woman is somehow after his mage bro. It can't be anything good she has in mind, her hatchet face suggests very strongly.
One time, a woman was following Anders all over the place, and the woman was actually a Templar (Ser Rylock, if anyone's keeping track), and she just kept on dragging him back to the Circle, and Anders just kept on escaping, until finally it all ended in tears. And blood, lots of blood. And awkwardness between the Wardens and the Chantry.
Right, so Anders has reason to be suspicious of humorless women in dogged pursuit of mages. That's setting aside his original Oghren-esque hypothesis, mind.
Whatever it is, he figures he'd better have a chat with Martin and let him know that this woman's looking for him, and also that he, Anders, has not ratted him out. Also, he's curious as to what really is going on.
He makes some more cereal squares just to sweeten Martin's disposition a bit before prying into the man's personal life. As Martin crunches into the marshmallowy, wheaty goodness of frosted-flake treats, Anders broaches a delicate subject.
"How long's the average lifespan in Tamriel?"
Characters:
Martin Septim, Anders, and Nathaniel HoweSummary: Anders is made of tact
Warnings:
Anders still isn't sure what to make of Delphine's sassy comeback to his very tactful questions. All he knows is that this woman is somehow after his mage bro. It can't be anything good she has in mind, her hatchet face suggests very strongly.
One time, a woman was following Anders all over the place, and the woman was actually a Templar (Ser Rylock, if anyone's keeping track), and she just kept on dragging him back to the Circle, and Anders just kept on escaping, until finally it all ended in tears. And blood, lots of blood. And awkwardness between the Wardens and the Chantry.
Right, so Anders has reason to be suspicious of humorless women in dogged pursuit of mages. That's setting aside his original Oghren-esque hypothesis, mind.
Whatever it is, he figures he'd better have a chat with Martin and let him know that this woman's looking for him, and also that he, Anders, has not ratted him out. Also, he's curious as to what really is going on.
He makes some more cereal squares just to sweeten Martin's disposition a bit before prying into the man's personal life. As Martin crunches into the marshmallowy, wheaty goodness of frosted-flake treats, Anders broaches a delicate subject.
"How long's the average lifespan in Tamriel?"