[Because he's thought about it, and he will do it if he has to, but not until there's no hope. And he can't let go of hope, because he can't lose him.
Not him, not Hawke. Never Hawke.
Unfortunately for Anders, though, Fenris is a warrior, and just that first punch makes his brain reeling. He reacts instinctively, lashing out with force magic to get rid of the threat. Even then it's a moment before he can scramble to his feet.]
I would murder anyone who wanted to hurt him! I would kill them all for this!
[he's losing control and he's not sure if he cares.]
[Barely a moment after Anders knocks him off, Fenris rolls to his own feet, ready to charge again. His markings flare in preparation for a real fight.]
And that is why the Rite of Tranquility exists in the first place! Because of mages like you!
You speak as if you know! As if you care! Yet you'd never even think to put yourself in their shoes!
[Oh no, that's definitely Justice, and there's the blue glow to prove it. But as he steps forward, he staggers: some part of Anders is still struggling.
Though it's really a mystery why he bothers.]
The same people who would do it to me just did it to him instead! Can you still say you support that?!
They don't care what you think! Any mage is a threat, that includes him.
[He yells it, and then he's rushing forward again. The punch he throws is weak, but there's still the threat of magic; it would be so easy to just unleash it, to deal with him once and for all.]
[Fenris catches Anders' fist easily, and moves to slam him against the wall. It would be so easy, almost too easy to just rip the mage's heart out right here and be done with it, but he couldn't do that to Marian. Not when the old adage 'better to beg forgiveness than permission' didn't seem to apply here.]
[He doesn't bother with any words outside of an angry shout-- their logic remained circular even now as it continuously fed off their polar opposite extremism.]
[It's no wonder the hate they share is so sincere]
[There's a shout from Anders, too, as he hits the wall, half in pain as his vision briefly blurs, and for a moment he really thinks Fenris is going to kill him.
This time, he headbutts him in response, because he's damn well going to break that nose of his.]
And you call me a coward?!
[If Fenris tries to kill him, he has an excuse to no longer hold Justice back.]
[Fenris can't tell if its his barely controlled rage, or how accustomed he's grown to fighting even through excruciating pain over the years, but he barely feels the headbutt. He wouldn't have even been aware of it if not for the metallic taste of warm blood flowing over his lips]
[In response, he slams Anders against the wall again.]
[And again]
[And once more for good measure]
[His tattoos glow brighter and brighter with each satisfying THWACK of bone against metal, and in the frenzy (when did he lose control?), his fist rises, crackling with lyrium and fully intent on punching into Anders' head]
[His ears are ringing, he's seeing spots, and he's only vaguely aware of Fenris' raised fist. It's difficult to focus on why that's important through the pain.
At the last second though, he manages another burst of magic. It's weaker than before; barely enough to force Fenris away from him. Anders pushes out from the wall and then stumbles, dropping to his knees.]
Not now.
[Justice can still fight; he can take more damage than Anders can. There's a crackle of blue across his skin, before Anders clenches his fists, forcing it back. It isn't that he doesn't want to fight Fenris (oh, he does), but right now...
Justice feels little beyond anger anymore, but Hawke doesn't feel at all.
In a last, desperate attempt he lunges, unsteady on his feet, his eyes unfocused. Justice could kill Fenris in a heartbeat, he's sure of it, but that wouldn't be nearly as satisfying as feeling his fist connect with his chin, as putting everything into some sick - unjust - form of payback that doesn't even make a difference.
He can barely see Fenris through his tears, but he can no longer hold them back either.]
[Luckily that's about the time Hawke stumbles into them, the last of the alcohol from the frat party painfully wearing off (as if it had been any more pleasant going in). She hadn't even known that anyone else "knew," but from all that glowing, the whole universe must have by now.
On any other day she'd be inclined to make an ill-timed, awful joke about the glowing, but even her patience with bad humour has grown thin.
And this looks serious. Really serious. She should have known, perhaps, that all their fighting would lead up to this one day, but it's so much easier to deny and play it off as something else.
Marian groans and uses a bit of magic--there is no conceivable way she's letting that many fists fly in her direction at once--and shoves the two of them apart. It's not enough to send anyone flying in the opposite direction, just enough to break the momentum.]
Oh, ENOUGH! You don't think we've lost enough, you have to try and kill each other to make it worse?
[Fenris stumbles back and falls to the floor, breathing heavily and ready to take on whoever the hell thinks it's their place to get between him and giving Anders what was coming to hi--]
[Oh]
[The snarl drops into a confused frown, even as Fenris half stands there]
[Anders was already unbalanced, and the force spell, mild though it is, knocks him over completely. He barely manages to catch himself before landing face down on the floor; and he's not sure he has the strength to get back on.
He doesn't say anything, either. Fenris' reaction tells him exactly who it is, and right now, in his mind, whatever she has to say is between the two of them. It's got nothing to do with him.
He clenches his fists, though, still angry, still fighting back tears. He doesn't even see a point.]
Don't. [Marian motions at Fenris to give her a minute, and turns to Anders, sounding just about as pleased. Which is not at all. Anger is easier than tears, she knows that just as well. But the last thing she needs is death or serious injury on top of that.]
He needs you. You know that, even if he doesn't. And this is--this is where your priorities are?
[Okay, yeah, every thing about this situation can only be classified as BAD, so Fenris will obediently hang back, wiping away at his nose. He's perfectly aware that it won't do much good, not with how much it's free flowing, but it gives him something to do, and a way to not look Marian in the eye]
[Anders is quiet. He's too angry, too sad, too everything for the words to even penetrate, and it's a struggle to keep Justice from taking over. It's actually taking a great deal of self-control.
He pushes himself up, because he's not about to stay collapsed in a heap in some random hallway, although he's clearly unsteady on his feet. His head is throbbing, too. He narrows his yes to focus on Hawke.]
He doesn't.
[because there's nothing of him left, and he's still got Mordin looking into cures. The only thing Anders can think to do for him is kill him.]
[Hawke knows that she'd only witnessed a very small part of Anders' relationship with Karl, that his Tranquility would never be as harrowing--ugh, what a term--for her as it would always be for him. But she can't watch him give up on Garrett. There's a small part of her that knows she could just as easily be in his place, that giving up on him is giving up on a part of herself. And perhaps it's selfish, but she's always clung to that small bit of hope that something can be done. That this disconnect from humanity, this severing, cannot be as permanent as they say; how could the Chantry allow such a thing when judgment is supposed to be the Maker's alone? When they're all his children, of a sort. Or are supposed to be.
She knows too that it's ultimately futile, clinging to hope like this. Especially when it's so often turn apart, ripped away, taken for granted. That some tragedies are irreversible, that's what makes them tragic.
But she refuses to let Garrett end like this. A hopeless, pitiable man caught between vague vestiges of humanity and monstrosity, devoid of any salvation. And if that means she has to kick down the Maker's door herself, she'll do it. But she cannot watch everyone else she loves equally fall apart in the meantime.]
Or have we not lost enough today?
[It's a sad note she doesn't want to think about, and cannot avoid. She's careful to keep her voice from cracking, to force the sorrow back. She's had enough practice, after all. It's with a heavy-handed sigh that she finally turns back to Fenris with an expression caught between that practiced anger and the sorrow she can't manage to hold back, and offers a hand to help him up. Since it's all she can think to do, knowing he'd have a harder time accepting help over his real injury.]
I'm not asking that we pretend everything's alright. [She aims back at both of them quietly. An afterthought.] Just that we stop trying to kill each other when there are bigger things to worry about. It's too much.
[The Look puts a complete halt on any objections Fenris may have, and he takes her hand without a word, and with a proper expression of shame on his face.]
[He holds his other hand to his nose, continuing his habit of not looking either Anders or Hawke in the eye. When he does speak, his voice is low, quiet, and not directed to anyone in particular]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[Because he's thought about it, and he will do it if he has to, but not until there's no hope. And he can't let go of hope, because he can't lose him.
Not him, not Hawke. Never Hawke.
Unfortunately for Anders, though, Fenris is a warrior, and just that first punch makes his brain reeling. He reacts instinctively, lashing out with force magic to get rid of the threat. Even then it's a moment before he can scramble to his feet.]
I would murder anyone who wanted to hurt him! I would kill them all for this!
[he's losing control and he's not sure if he cares.]
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And that is why the Rite of Tranquility exists in the first place! Because of mages like you!
This is all your fault, Abomination!
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[Oh no, that's definitely Justice, and there's the blue glow to prove it. But as he steps forward, he staggers: some part of Anders is still struggling.
Though it's really a mystery why he bothers.]
The same people who would do it to me just did it to him instead! Can you still say you support that?!
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That doesn't change the fact that Hawke deserved nothing of the sort!
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[He yells it, and then he's rushing forward again. The punch he throws is weak, but there's still the threat of magic; it would be so easy to just unleash it, to deal with him once and for all.]
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[He doesn't bother with any words outside of an angry shout-- their logic remained circular even now as it continuously fed off their polar opposite extremism.]
[It's no wonder the hate they share is so sincere]
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This time, he headbutts him in response, because he's damn well going to break that nose of his.]
And you call me a coward?!
[If Fenris tries to kill him, he has an excuse to no longer hold Justice back.]
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[In response, he slams Anders against the wall again.]
[And again]
[And once more for good measure]
[His tattoos glow brighter and brighter with each satisfying THWACK of bone against metal, and in the frenzy (when did he lose control?), his fist rises, crackling with lyrium and fully intent on punching into Anders' head]
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At the last second though, he manages another burst of magic. It's weaker than before; barely enough to force Fenris away from him. Anders pushes out from the wall and then stumbles, dropping to his knees.]
Not now.
[Justice can still fight; he can take more damage than Anders can. There's a crackle of blue across his skin, before Anders clenches his fists, forcing it back. It isn't that he doesn't want to fight Fenris (oh, he does), but right now...
Justice feels little beyond anger anymore, but Hawke doesn't feel at all.
In a last, desperate attempt he lunges, unsteady on his feet, his eyes unfocused. Justice could kill Fenris in a heartbeat, he's sure of it, but that wouldn't be nearly as satisfying as feeling his fist connect with his chin, as putting everything into some sick - unjust - form of payback that doesn't even make a difference.
He can barely see Fenris through his tears, but he can no longer hold them back either.]
Why do you two constantly need an adult?
On any other day she'd be inclined to make an ill-timed, awful joke about the glowing, but even her patience with bad humour has grown thin.
And this looks serious. Really serious. She should have known, perhaps, that all their fighting would lead up to this one day, but it's so much easier to deny and play it off as something else.
Marian groans and uses a bit of magic--there is no conceivable way she's letting that many fists fly in her direction at once--and shoves the two of them apart. It's not enough to send anyone flying in the opposite direction, just enough to break the momentum.]
Oh, ENOUGH! You don't think we've lost enough, you have to try and kill each other to make it worse?
HE STARTED IT!!!!!
[Fenris stumbles back and falls to the floor, breathing heavily and ready to take on whoever the hell thinks it's their place to get between him and giving Anders what was coming to hi--]
[Oh]
[The snarl drops into a confused frown, even as Fenris half stands there]
Marian...!
NO HE DID!!!!!!
He doesn't say anything, either. Fenris' reaction tells him exactly who it is, and right now, in his mind, whatever she has to say is between the two of them. It's got nothing to do with him.
He clenches his fists, though, still angry, still fighting back tears. He doesn't even see a point.]
YOU'RE BOTH IN TROUBLE!
He needs you. You know that, even if he doesn't. And this is--this is where your priorities are?
YOU'RE NOT OUR REAL MOM!!!
WE DON'T HAVE TO LISTEN TO YOU!!!!
He pushes himself up, because he's not about to stay collapsed in a heap in some random hallway, although he's clearly unsteady on his feet. His head is throbbing, too. He narrows his yes to focus on Hawke.]
He doesn't.
[because there's nothing of him left, and he's still got Mordin looking into cures. The only thing Anders can think to do for him is kill him.]
AHEM!!!
[Hawke knows that she'd only witnessed a very small part of Anders' relationship with Karl, that his Tranquility would never be as harrowing--ugh, what a term--for her as it would always be for him. But she can't watch him give up on Garrett. There's a small part of her that knows she could just as easily be in his place, that giving up on him is giving up on a part of herself. And perhaps it's selfish, but she's always clung to that small bit of hope that something can be done. That this disconnect from humanity, this severing, cannot be as permanent as they say; how could the Chantry allow such a thing when judgment is supposed to be the Maker's alone? When they're all his children, of a sort. Or are supposed to be.
She knows too that it's ultimately futile, clinging to hope like this. Especially when it's so often turn apart, ripped away, taken for granted. That some tragedies are irreversible, that's what makes them tragic.
But she refuses to let Garrett end like this. A hopeless, pitiable man caught between vague vestiges of humanity and monstrosity, devoid of any salvation. And if that means she has to kick down the Maker's door herself, she'll do it. But she cannot watch everyone else she loves equally fall apart in the meantime.]
Or have we not lost enough today?
[It's a sad note she doesn't want to think about, and cannot avoid. She's careful to keep her voice from cracking, to force the sorrow back. She's had enough practice, after all. It's with a heavy-handed sigh that she finally turns back to Fenris with an expression caught between that practiced anger and the sorrow she can't manage to hold back, and offers a hand to help him up. Since it's all she can think to do, knowing he'd have a harder time accepting help over his real injury.]
I'm not asking that we pretend everything's alright. [She aims back at both of them quietly. An afterthought.] Just that we stop trying to kill each other when there are bigger things to worry about. It's too much.
B(!!!!
[He holds his other hand to his nose, continuing his habit of not looking either Anders or Hawke in the eye. When he does speak, his voice is low, quiet, and not directed to anyone in particular]
...I apologize.