#freedomofmen

Hiding—that had been the original purpose of this current stop. A small and barely passable for decent living conditions of an abandoned shack just outside of an equally small and barely passable for decent living conditions of an undercity was the best he could do in terms of hiding. As long as he offered his services as a healer, then things would be okay.

To hide and have a break in the running, all that blasted working, was a nice change as far as Anders was concerned. He could get lost in the forgotten feeling of working through case after case that was brought to him, all the way from another shipping accident to tending to the third birth or so. A decent change from the mess that had haunted him for the last few nights.

But the undercity had its dangers, and if he had been more attentive, he might have been ready to hop out the window and run, if the creak of wood hadn’t made his “fight”instinct win out, hand quickly removing the staff from the wall as he whipped around.

“You intrude on helping grounds,” the slight tinge of something unnatural and booming quickly fading from his voice as he continued. “Explain yourself--!”

There was a box that the mage had spent the better half of the usual work day playing around with in his hands. It was surprisingly well carved, and the latch remained surprisingly clean as if never touched, which in all retrospect it hasn’t been.

She was in his way again.

The constant worrying, constant coddling, constant everything when he warned her over andover again to just leave him alone. He wanted to be alone, it would be betterto be alone and yet somehow that just seemed to be impossible thing for this stupid woman to understand—

The obsidian blade had cut through the flesh of her bellysmoothly and twisted. Then he drew it to the side in one motion and pulled out,allowing her to drop to the floor.

There wouldn’t be anydistractions again.

He sheathed the blade and wiped his hands on his robes.

The ones that kept himcomplacent would be wiped away along with the rest.

He walked away.

Mind ran rampant, fingers tapping an idle pattern against the table, and the mage was no closer to trying to figure out how to solve the mental block. Even the faint coils that flickered and flitted about his mind didn’t seem eager to help anytime soon, only to tangle and knot everything faster than he could blink.

Send ??? to hear what my muse really thinks about yours, but would never say out loud.

You can waste your time with anyone in the world and yet you choose me? Why? 

I destroy everything I love. I burn everything I touch. 

I will break you, Hawke.

“You know what I hate? Actually being right about these bloody holes down below actually showing up.” As if on cue, he gave a sharp grab to his companion’s arm and yanked her back to his chest. Apparently just in time too, if the grunting, growling, and Maker knows what else that sounded from the other end of the cave tunnel was anything to go by.

He grunted and closed his eyes for a moment to count on just what he was hearing deeper in his head.

My muse has gone berserk. They are covered in blood, growling, and acting aggressive and wild. Send in your muse’s reaction to finding my muse in this state.

He had watched his arms lash out in such a familiar motion, silverite of Templar standard armor and swords exploding from the pressure and flames. Flesh had come apart in his hands almost as easy as bread, and the smell of burning flesh and boiling blood in the air.

It matted his hair, dripped off his skin and stained his clothes. Viscera stuck to his skin, and blood dripped from his mouth as he swallowed, marveling in the fresh warmth that flowed down his throat.

And then he could feel it in the air, the haze of bright blue turned on the source.

He growled and dropped the severed head in his hand.