ITS WHERE MY DEMONS HIDE

Anders ( && Justice ). Apostate mage. Constantly depressed.

[justivelives]

lvllcn‌:

APPREHENSION  UPON  APPROACHING  THE  SMALL  GROUP  OF  INQUISITION  SOLDIERS…   she’d  been  tending  to  for  the  day   &&   lèonie’s  heart  sank  upon  finding  one  of  them  had  left  us  while  she’d  gone  to  make  some  tea   .   hastily  setting  the  hot  cup  down   ,   she  moved  to  check  for  a  pulse  on  the  young  man’s  neck   ,   regardless  of  his  deathly  appearance   .   thin  brows  furrowed  before  she  moved  to  cup  her  head  in  her  hand   .   it  wasn’t  supposed  to  be  like  this   !   not  at  the  START…   a  small  weep  escaped  her   ———   before  moving  her  hand  back  down  to  her  waist   &&   wiping  a  tear   ,   she  breathed  out  a  final   ,   quiet   .   “   ir  abelas   .   ”

He had noticed the dying man as the elven had walked off. Doing what he did best, he tried to save him yet it was a lost caused. When she had returned, the mage sighed softly. “I tried to save him. His will was lost to live unfortunately These times will do that to some people.”

[gcrretthcwke-blog]

@justivelives

    when night falls across the sand-washed landscape of the western approach, a sudden wind and chill follows along with it. it’s strange, garrett decides, that the region cannot seem to make up its mind about what it wants to be - but then again, it’s orlesian, and he supposes it’s too much to ask anything of orlesian to make a straight answer about anything at all. with a tired sigh, he enters the part of the camp dedicated to the healers’ tents: a makeshift clinic, with cots protected by lambswool tents. there’s not much he can do to aid the healers - his magic has always been focused on offensive, after all, and he’d probably be more of an obstacle to their operation than an aid - but he asks still, if there’s a menial errand to run. he’s tasked with dividing portions of rations and distributing them to convalescing scouts - damned varghests - and sets about his task with quiet efficiency.

    when he’s finished, he approaches a tent, and with eyes still focused on balancing the tray of food in his arms, says to whoever the inhabitants might be, “well, i hope you’re prepared for a delicious, hot supper of - uh… hard tack and dried meat?” he shrugs. “better than noth - ” his voice stops dead in his throat when he finally looks up and sees the silhouette of the person he had never expected to see again.

[justivelives]

he was exhausted. The sick and injured were increasing; a few scouts had been injured on The Western Approach. He felt like he was going to pass out, he hadn’t slept in three days. Rubbing his head, a let out a weary sigh. He smelled the food and he turned. Yet he wasn’t expecting the face that he turned too. He stopped dead in his tracks. “G-Garrett...”

[palchidirenna]

made this for a zine

[justivelives]

storytellertm‌:

@justivelives

          he didn’t want to hold a grudge. varric took pride in not being the grudge-bearing type. but kirkwall had been his home in every sense of the word, and anders had taken away the right for him to even call it that. truthfully, he should have done more. he should have done so much more instead of just sit and watch as his friend slowly spiralled. he just kept trying to reach out and crack jokes and make contact with the pal he knew, no, thought was still in there somewhere, and in the end… well. the sight of the familiar blond now - in skyhold - ignited something in him not unlike anger, but there was something else, too. relief, maybe. or regret. it bubbled up and clawed at his throat, and his lip just about bled where he bit it. “blondie,” he nearly choked in greeting, in disbelief, in sorrow.

His tattered mind never lost the face of Varric. He had considered the dwarf a dear friend, someone that was so easy to speak too. Varric knew everything in Kirkwall. Justice, his loneliness, his struggle. And he was a little bitter that he didn’t help when the signs were given. Yet he regretted his hatred towards the dwarf after his leaving Kirkwall. Did he hate him still? No. He missed him. 

Sighing softly as he prayed a safe travel of the soul of the now departed victim of war, he heard a voice. He froze. He knew that voice and a part of him inside trembled. Trembled out sadness; out of happiness. He hadn’t felt happiness in a long time. Turning, he looked down at his dear friend. “My storyteller.” His words trembled; voice shaking with a sob.”I-I’m sorry... I’m so sorry for everything.”

[justivelives]

fereldenliion‌:

The sarcastic quip got Anders a stern glare. “Not funny.” But his demeanor shifted slightly. He didn’t like taking off his armor. He barely did it anyway. He took it off before bed, but…”Of course.” He removed the straps of his armor and pulled his roughspun shirt over his head before situating on the cot again. “I bet your loving this.”

“The…rebellion. Not the…Maker’s breath.”

What if he did love it? It was no secret that their dearest Commander was rather good looking. Oh. He meant the rebellion. Slowly washing the dirt off his hands with the water basin, he kept his eyes avoided.”Perhaps I enjoy both.” He admitted, taking a piece of cloth and drying his hands. Walking over to Cullen, he knelt down before him; hands coming to hove over the wound. Glowing hands worked magic through him. “Just so you know.” He began softly. “He’s been dormant since Kirkwall....” His voice was soft, almost a sadness clinging to his tone. Vengeance was apart of him now and feeling an absence left him-- empty. Could he be considered an Abomination now that the demon rests?

[texts-from-last-blight]

[justivelives]

blvckwall‌:

@justivelives reacted for a starter

He’d heard the rumours, of course, who hadn’t? The arrival of another Grey Warden had made him cautious, but then he’d heard the stories whispered in the taverns – people even bothering to whisper to him, and he’d recalled something told to him, long ago. Another life, it seemed. Standing in the doorway to the tent, he watched the man for a moment, before clearing his throat to alert him to his presence. “I heard a story about an Anders once,” he started, wondering if this was just going to leave the man defensive. “He had a cat.”

He had had a long day with death and suffering. He just wanted to relax, read a book and perhaps be surrounded by his cats. They were the only ones that really understood him-- loved him. They didn’t mind the monster behind skin. “I’m on break.” He grumbled as he heard the movement of fabric. Then his name rang out then a word. C A T. He sat up quickly, staring at the other. Warden Armor. A heavy sigh. “I’m not going back.” He paused a long while before slowly standing. “Taking a man’s cat is is worse than the damned Darkspawn. Where the fuck is Ser-Pounce-A-Lot? Feed him to the damned dogs?”

[justivelives]

somnieral‌:

Sora smiled and rolled her eyes. “Templars are also up their own asses.” Sora watched the healer work, mesmerized with how he worked. “Do…you need help?” They asked. “I’m fairly decent with healing but only the first aid bit. I wouldn’t mind learning healing magic, but most of my magic comes from being angry and shooting fire at people who make me mad.”

“If you would like. I have some minor injuries by the tents. If you can grab some blood lotus and elf root, I’d love the help. With only a few healers here at the moment, it’s hard to get to everyone.” He smiled down at the elven. He was never racist towards them. They were an ethereal race that he respected. He just didn’t respect Templars. Fuck those guys. “I’m Anders.”

[justivelives]

doriianpavxs‌:

He stared at the man for a few moments, he hadn’t any idea what to truly say to him. To even think about him, “Well should you find pleasure in books with no pages be my guest take them all!”

“Well I didn’t know they didn’t have pages in them, now did I?”The mage huffed before he stared down at the books. “You are avoiding eye contact with me. Do I bother you?”

[justivelives]

fereldenliion‌:

@justivelives reacted for a starter

Cullen sat, grumpily might he add, in the healer’s tents, his lips turned down in a perpetual frown and brows furrowed tightly. Of all the healers. In all these Maker-damned tents. He had to get the one he was most mad at.

“I would have just bandaged this myself, but it was too deep to just wrap.” He didn’t care about scars, but he did care about bleeding out. This was the last time he let the recruits convince him it was a “good idea” to get practice with a “real sword”. Little shits.

Of course. He’d get the lovely commander in his tent. This is what happened when you were the main Healer. A clearing of his throat and he entered the tent. “Hello, Commander. And no. I do not plan on blowing this place up.” He gave a sarcastic smile before a motion of his hand. “Remove the armor and the shirt.”

[justivelives]

lyriumdog‌:

“You deserve to live with it,” Fenris snarled, “you deserve to die with it on your conscience. Whatever work you do here - with the inquisition, with that thing still inside you - it will not save your soul now.” Fenris stepped back, aware that they’d gathered quite the crowd. Some had drawn their swords, likely to protect their darling healer. Though Fenris wasn’t ashamed of his actions, he was surprised to find he still had such fire inside him and stepped back only to give himself space to control his temper. “You may say you’re here to redeem yourself but you will find it an impossible task to convince me there’s no … ulterior motive.” 

“And I have to agree with you for the first time in anything.” He saw the shallow breathes of the boy that he was helping before Fenris intervened. He rushed to him, shaking his head. “No no no.” His hands were trembling, he couldn’t conjure his magic. He needed to do something. Think Anders. Turning to the elf, he pursed his lips together inwardly. He had to ask him. “Fenris.. if you want to save this boy. Go to the courtyard and harvest the Royal Elf root The Inquisitor planted...”

[justivelives]

when the other lowered their defense, the lightening ceasing before the mage stood up straight. “I am aware of my mistakes. Why do you think I’m here? I’ve lived with my past for a long time and I’m tired of hiding from it. It’s not something I’m proud of.” He adjusted his robes.

[maxvael-deactivated20190709]

summer flower crown

[justivelives]

@lyriumdog

[justivelives]

a groan came from him. Sometimes Fenris was unbearable. But he was debating if he should just let him kill him. It would be a swift death. He felt the scratching of the monster on the inside of his mind and he trembled. Sparks of lightening danced between his fingers as a warning. “They know what I am. They tried to kill me when I arrived but the inquisitor stopped them. Without me, these people have no healer. She died at Haven and I took her place. Without me, they will die, Fenris.” He had made no attempts to hide who he was. After all, his very name held weight. It was intertwined with the fate of what happened in Kirkwall.

[lyriumdog]

@justivelives  ( closed starter )

The injured boy was barely ten but he’d seen enough of war to line his face with a bitterness beyond his years. If Fenris stopped to check upon every civilian he saw bloodied these days, he’d wither away by other people’s bedsides, but something about the hate in this boy’s eyes compelled Fenris to seek him out. He stalked through the grounds, past gossiping scouts who still hadn’t enough time to get used to his pulsing scars or vicious glare, and spotted the young boy lying still – on the brink of death – being “healed” by a nightmare Fenris had prayed he’d never revisit.

On instinct, Fenris drew his longsword and grabbed Anders by the shoulder, trapping him against the nearest wall. He even smelled the same; a scent that made Fenris’ hackles raise and scars glow dangerously.

“Remove your hands from the boy,” he growled, the tip of his blade grazing Anders’ grotesque stubble. “On my life, you will not cause any more harm to the innocent.”

[justivelives]

he was trying desperately to save the boy. It hurt him to see someone so young die from a war. He had been rescued from a fire that had engulfed Haven. But his scars were too severe. Anders was afraid that not even his magic would save him. He heard a dark laughter in the back of his mind. It caused his own anger to rise up inside him. Why would he laugh at a boy’s suffering. Yet he was keeping an eye out for the wandering Spirit of Mercy that seemed to keep an eye on his dying patients. The determination to keep this boy alive made his hands glow brighter and small prayers left his lips. And just as the scars were healing, he was pulled away and slammed against the stair’s wall. A grunt and a panic rushed through him. “I-I’m trying to save him, Fenris!” He huffed back as he struggled against the tanned hands that held him captive. “I’m not trying to harm him! I’m here to save not kill!” He protested but he felt a tick of anger. No no no. Not now. “Unhand me before he comes out.”

[philipdeanjou]

a witch’s welcome | open

[justivelives]

morriganwxtch‌:

“I don’t-” she cut herself off, grinding her teeth. There were few times she was uncertain or knew not of what she spoke of. Kieran was but a boy who could not communicate everything but he tried his best so she could only speak from what muted words he used. “Our magic keeps us connected. But when it is…overwhelming you must center yourself, focus on what stands before you and the reality. It is as if you are casting a spell or waking from a dream and must pull yourself from it lest it consume.” 

“He won’t let me leave the Fade, my Lady. This is a burden I have made and must keep. Even if I feel myself slowly slipping away.I fear soon, He will take over completely and I won’t be Anders anymore. I will be a thing filled with Hate and Anger... The Chantry would have only been the beginning....” He brought his trembling hands up to his mouth. “At times; I wish I had just been made Tranquil.... then I remember how much I hate those who perform barbaric rituals on others.” His mind came to his friend, Karl. He thought he could save him but he was too late.

[justivelives]

somnieral‌:

“Have I mentioned how annoyed I am with everyone calling me an apostate? Kaffas, aren’t all southern mages apostates now?” Sora had gotten sick of the shit they’d been called. Rabbit, go fetch me some water. Knife ear, grab that sword. Apostate, stay in your designated area. Blah blah blah. She was about to go crazy from it all.

“Well, unfortunately; Templars are Templars... Don’t let them get to you.” The abomination looked at the young mage; a gentle smile given to them. Anders washed the blood off his hands with the washbasin, a misfortune of being a Healer and with so many injured soldier and survivors of Haven. He was surprised they didn’t pass while on their journey to their new home.