@warriormaggie replied to your photoset: Guess all of my stuff is arriving today lmao Not...
I am in love with your shoes. I opted for the great “go barefoot” at the Viking Reenactment because it was warm(ish) and wet(ish) - also not period or location accurate but pretty darn comfy
Yesss, godd, that does sound way more comfortable. I wish we had the option for our heads to go uncovered as well in warm weather.
I really bought these because I can get away with wearing tights/leggings underneath my dresses. I am not going to be hitching hoes or stockings up the entire day, (I don’t know how the guys manage ugh). Either way, I’m pretty pleased with them and hope I can find a way to break them in a little before I go.
Happy Birthday Maggie: Life (On the Run) Begins at 40
Happy Birthday to @warriormaggie ! I hope it was a dear one! I wrote this with you in mind; it is sort of intended to fit in the same universe as your Dreams series -- that being the first thing of yours I read -- although of course that’s not set in concrete. Either way, I hope you enjoy some sappy fenders goo!
Title: Life (On the Run) Begins at 40
Setting: Post-Kirkwall
Pairing: Fenris/Anders
Contains: Some crossdressing, some angst, and fluff.
They had a ship to catch.
Fenris and Anders were in Val Chevin, passing through on their way to Cumberland by way of sea. They had found passage on a merchant ship -- with the help of a few under-the-keel favors from a pair of old pirate friends -- but it wasn't due to pull anchor until tomorrow.
They weren't staying in town. A year on the run had led to too many close calls, too many brushes with violence, that nowadays they camped in the wilderness even when their journey took them to a town. It just wasn't worth the risk of someone recognizing Fenris -- or worse, Anders -- and leading the Templars or the city guard right to where they were sleeping. If no one knew where they lay their heads, then no one could betray them.
Right now they were staying in a little cave just off the road leading into the city -- chill and damp and dark, but still a better shelter than they'd had many a time. Most of their camping and travel gear was still stashed there, as well as Anders' conspicuous staff and his cat, and they had come into Val Chevin to stock up on supplies.
Anders almost walked right by the modest little store tucked into the corner of the market square, until a passing sunbeam hit the front window and lit the wares inside up like a beacon. The vibrant colors drew his eye, and he couldn't help himself; his steps slowed and faltered, and he found himself drawn to the colorful display.
The store sold corsets, corsets of all kinds; while it wasn't as diverse a display of bedroom ware as you would have found in -- say -- Val Royeaux, it was still an impressive collection. Some of them looked more like novelty ideas than anything really designed to look good while being worn -- like the one that had a map of Antiva scrawled confusingly across the stomach or, Maker, did that one have frogs on the nipples?!
But there was also a good variety of stately, elegant lingerie on display. Anders' eye was drawn to a deep red corset with silk roses stitched in a bold row across the bustline; as he looked, he found his gaze pulled to another, embroidered with flamboyant peacocks on the panels and edged in brilliant blue-green satin. A third was sea-colored, with depictions of breaking waves and little seashells sewn on, and yet another was painted with green ivy and bordered with flowers. And another, and another…
He hadn't realized how far his attention had wandered until a nudge at his side snapped him out of his reverie. "Ah! Oh, um, sorry. Got a little lost in thought there," he said, turning to smile sheepishly at his husband, who was giving him a sternly unimpressed frown.
"From your deep distraction, I thought you were looking at the window of a pet store," Fenris said dryly, then looked in through the window. "What is this? This is like… Fran's?"
"A little, although from the look of things I think this is more of a costumier," Anders said, indicating the other rows of suits and dresses further back. "Val Chevin has a lively theater scene, or so I understand."
"Mm, it brings back fond memories," Fenris said, his voice throaty and warm as he took in the array of corsets. He glanced from the shop window to Anders, and then back again. "I would not object to seeing you in something like this again."
The delighted glow faded, and Anders stepped back away from the plate window with a chill feeling of depression. "We can't," he said. "We can't afford the prices, and even if we could, we couldn't carry it with us."
"The ship's allowance did seem rather ungenerous," Fenris admitted.
Anders shook his head. "That part of our life -- living in a big house and wearing fancy clothes, having fancy things -- that's behind us now, I know," he said lowly. "Sometimes I think it might have been a dream… A wonderful dream of something I was never meant for, something I never deserved.
Fenris frowned. Life on the run had its hardships, but this seemed more a lack of spirit than actual physical discomfort. "It's only been a year," he reminded him, barely biting back on the 'mage' in a public place.
"I know." Anders let a bitter chuckle. "Happy nameday to me. I'll be forty tomorrow. I think. Maker, it's so easy to lose track of time..."
With a blink, Fenris reviewed the Southern calendar in his mind. He'd known all their special occasions once, but he'd never realized… "Are you telling me you destroyed the Kirkwall Chantry on your nameday?" he demanded.
"Well no, I mean yes, that wasn't *why...*" Anders sputtered. "It just happened to work out that way! But I guess it's fitting." He sighed. "Sometimes I feel like I was only born for that one day, and the rest of my life before was just pushing me for that moment."
Fenris frowned, his ears tilted as he tried to pick out the strange sadness in Anders' voice. "And your life after?"
Anders didn't answer at first, and after a few moments the two of them turned and began to walk away from the glass display. "I didn't really expect to have an 'after,' " Anders admitted at last.
"Anders…" Fenris grabbed for Anders' hand, suddenly panicked.
"Not that I'm not grateful!" Anders said hastily. He smiled, and squeezed Fenris' hand in his own. "I am, wouldn't want you to think otherwise. Every day."
He seemed determined to change the subject then, and Fenris let him; but as the two of them turned the corner on the square, Fenris glanced back and stared at the sign bearing the shop's name until the lettering was burned in his memory.
Fenris watched Anders trudge back up the rocky, barely-visible path to the cave, and hurried to put the finishing touched on his presentation. Sneaking everything out of town without Anders noticing hadn't been too hard; he'd simply hidden the boxes and parcels among their other supplies. But to set everything up had required him to get rid of Anders for a while, so he'd sent him on a fool's errand to fetch water -- after all, if Anders had chosen to argue the point, he could always summon water by magic.
Anders came up the last few steps to the cave mouth and stopped, staring. Fenris blew out the last taper hastily and turned to face his lover, trying not to feel foolish and a little nervous.
"Fenris…" Anders exclaimed, looking with round eyes around the cave. The firepit they'd been using for warmth and cooking had been banked, and a hundred tiny candle stubs had been set up instead, lining every uneven nook and crack in the walls. Two more candles flanked a meal set up on a makeshift table of splintered boards; a cloth hid the grubby surface from view, showing the artistically-arranged food to its best effect.
Fenris cleared his throat, trying to stop his ears from twitching. He knew his mage well enough to be fairly sure how his gift would be received, but it always left him feeling wrong-footed to give gifts outside of strict social conventions. "Happy nameday, Anders," he said, and extended his hands with the wrapped parcel. The card on the side bore the sigil of the clothing shop that Anders had dawdled beside in the market today.
"Fenris..." Anders repeated, his eyes growing even wider as he stepped forward to take it from Fenris' hands. "You didn't!"
"I did."
For a moment Anders looked delighted, tearing the paper away from the box to reveal a flash of gleaming cloth within. Then he stopped, his face falling. "But... it's so expensive! And we can't take it with us... Maker, it's such a waste..."
" Actually, it is a rental," Fenris admitted. "I inquired with the shop owners, and they said this is a service they often perform for parties. The one I'm wearing" -- he gestured to the svelte black cloth that replaced his usual spirit hide armor -- "is the same. We will need to drop it off before we take ship in the morning."
Anders' nose scrunched adorably. "Wait, so other people have worn this? Possibly... partied in this?"
Fenris chuckled. "Given how much of what we use these days comes off the backs and pockets of dead men, I didn't think you'd mind."
Anders laughed. "I suppose you're right!" he said. Then he sobered. "Still, we can't really afford it..."
"The price is much lower than you would think. A fraction of the full cost," Fenris assured him. He went on, his voice lowering, "But all the same, I would have bought it and ten more like it if it would make you smile." And besides, getting to see Anders in this lovely confection was just as much of a benefit to himself.
"Oh, Fen..." Anders' eyes had gone misty, water gleaming in the candlelight. Fenris gave him the smile that no one else ever saw, the one just for them.
"Go ahead," he said, gesturing to the box. "Try it on."
While Anders changed, Fenris fussed with the dinner and with the candles; nothing really needed the last-minute adjustments, but it gave Anders a moment to compose himself. When the rustling and muttered curses behind him stopped, Fenris still lingered a moment more with his back turned, before Anders' voice said, "Well? What do you think?"
Fenris turned around, and took in the vision before him.
He had chosen well, Fenris decided. Thinking forward to this moment, he'd selected the corset that was a pale near-white with a opalescent sheen. Aside from the shimmering stitching around the hems it was unornamented, but it came with a belt from which long fluttering streamers of filmy white cloth draped.
Against the darkness of the cave the cloth seemed to glow with its own light, illuminating Anders to be the brightest thing in the cave. The flowing streamers accentuated his long legs, fluttering with the slightest movement. Seeing him standing there, Fenris felt himself overwhelmed with a sudden surge of longing and love.
"I think..." Fenris said, through a throat gone dry. "I think I am very lucky."
"Fenris..." Anders said softly, but Fenris didn't let him finish the thought.
"Mage... Anders... I have been thinking," he said gruffly. "What you said earlier today has stayed in my mind. I realized that you had a long and dangerous life before we ever met. There were so many chances for me to have lost you before I even had you."
"And boy, did you ever *have* me..." Anders chuckled, eyes flashing wickedly.
Fenris gave him a brief smile, but he wasn't ready to laugh just yet. "I realized how grateful I was that that didn't happen... that you survived, and came to Kirkwall, and I met you. And now we are together. For this coming year, and however many years after it." Fenris stepped forward, putting his hands on Anders' arms and drawing him in. "Anders, I want you to know that your life isn't over -- it did not end with what you did in Kirkwall. You are still alive, and I'm glad of it."
Anders buried his face in Fenris' neck, and there was a suspicious sniffle before he said in a choked voice, "I'm glad too."
Fenris pulled him up for a kiss; only once the long and deep kiss had finished did he allow a chuckle. "Even if you are an old man. My old mage."
Anders choked a laugh. "Me, an old man?" he exclaimed. "You're the one with the white hair!"
"Yours is starting to go silver as well. It's only a matter of time, old mage." He stepped back, extending his arms without letting go of Anders. "Now, shall we dance?"
"Maker, yes!" Anders exclaimed.
Music was the one thing Fenris hadn't been able to arrange, but they didn't need it; they both knew the steps, and knew each other's rhythm. Their nimble feet flew across the dusty cave floor, the pale trails flying out behind Anders as they twirled, and he said: "You know, Fenris, I think I'm looking forward to what the rest of my life will bring."
@warriormaggie "We went from 80's to 40's with rain...no wonder I'm sick!" Ugh. That sucks. I'm sorry you're sick. Had something similar here, except it went from 60's to 30's and today is apparently about 15.
@warriormaggie replied to your post: Liking both Anders and Cullen is such a ride,...
The worst part is that cases can be made for both characters of shoddy development - and of course the entire “the Chantry screws over both mages and templars” discussion that should happen but rarely does…
Absolutely. This is an organisation who are basically holding these men and women hostage with an addictive substance they need in order to be able to do their jobs and leaving them out to dry when they’re no longer useful or want to be a part of it. Not to mention, a lot of them start out from a really early age and they’re raised on lies fed to them with their lyrium. So you get Ser Alriks and Greagoirs, no fucking surprise there.
I do not for one moment think that these men couldn’t have stopped what they were doing at any time, mind you, but I hate it when people see Cullen in DA:I or towards the end of DA2 when he starts questioning the things he’s been doing, (especially after the Kinloch Hold fiasco, mind, where his fears about mages did come to pass, even if it was just a select few assholes), and think that he is the same as them. If you didn’t think it of Ser Barris when he stayed with the templars right up until they started transforming into their own abominations, don’t think it of Cullen, who got out way before then.
Likewise, Anders was fucking right, although he has his flaws, but tbqfh, so do real people, and that’s why 2D characters with maybe one personality trait don’t sell games like Dragon Age.
Yes, there are definitely things that could have been written much better, (boy, are there), but ultimately remember these are both men whom the Chantry has put through the ringer and come out the other side trying to do good.
@warriormaggie replied to your photo: Critical plot point… DLC only
Yeah…I know…
When my other half was playing the original trilogy back in the day, I never appreciated how salty he was about the entire thing until a) I finished ME3 last week and b) last night when I found this out.
