Please Remember Me | PSL with justice_is_blond

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When Nathaniel was a little boy, he started to dream about a long, vast tunnel. Its ceiling was higher than his house, its walls nearly as wide, and the light was eerily dim. He would walk, taking great strides, and hear this strange song, beautiful and timeless. Then, he would be faced with some monstrous creature, and wake thrashing and shouting as the light went black. His parents took him to doctor after doctor, then in desperation to a mage healer. None could give any answers or advice. Eventually he grew to a point where the dreams were no longer shocking or frightening--he knew the outcome, and could face it feeling somewhat more jaded. But he never got used to it. He still hasn't.

The wealthy district of Denerim has become spectacular, compared to what it was in previous ages. Before, it had a reputation for being brown, full of mud and dog shit--which spoke poorly for the less wealthy districts. It is no longer the time of the so-called dog lords. Now there is color and light, some of it gas and some electric. He walks away from it, feeling stifled and restless, into the old market district. One of the public houses has been in service since the Dragon Age, and Nathaniel has always felt comfortable there, as if whatever he is wandering for, he will eventually find there.

Music plays in the Gnawed Noble Tavern, no longer the haunt of nobility as the name implies, but far more diverse, reclaimed by the people of the market district. The food is decent, the drink gets you drunk, but the most important thing is that the environment is friendly. People here don't judge or look down on you. Artists, artisans, philosophers, and simply passionate people are here. Some writers' groups meet, as do any number of peaceful protest organizations. Nathaniel sits and orders peat whisky before catching golden hair out of the corner of his eye.

He doesn't know why he has always been drawn to blonds. Does anyone know why their type is their type? But it almost goes beyond having a type. He has felt like he is looking to recognize a face, though he hasn't been open to studying himself as to why. He isn't the sort to believe in mysticism. But this man he sees is...how does someone describe it? Beautiful, otherworldly, out of time. And oddly familiar. Like a celebrity might, like someone he ought to recognize. But he knows he has never seen this man before. He also knows he must see him more than once.

"Excuse me?" He stands by the stranger now, peering into his face with a tentative smile. "Can I buy you a drink?"

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[justice_is_blond]

He's been restless the last few days, the press of rules and regulations getting under his skin and making him itch, making him want to run again. Somehow he'd managed to not bolt out the gates this afternoon and wound up here, sipping a decent mead that the bartender claimed was local and eyeing up people to see if there was any fun to be had. He'd nearly settled on approaching a stern-faced redhead and teasing her when the man approaches him and speaks, and it sounds... odd. Like an echo.

Anders blinks at the man for a moment. Handsome, worried, fit, definitely not a mage unless Anders is losing his touch at spotting them.

"Sure, I'll take another," he says lightly, pretending there isn't something disquieting about his new company. No. Not disquieting. It was gnawing at him a little, but not in a bad way. "If you're sure you want to be noticed drinking with a mage. Ser Bartram likes to come through around this time and takes note of what all of us are up to before getting glared back out of here." Some more than others, too. Anders gets a watchfulness and scrutiny that's not solely due to his name because he hates the restrictions, hates the limits, and hates being still for too long. There's a lot of world out there. Why should he be limited to one small corner of it?

"The name's Anders, take that as warning or invitation as you will." He gestures at the chair next to him, blatantly giving the man a good looking-over. He could have some fun here. And maybe he can figure out what's catching his mind about the guy.

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"I can be one of the glarers," Nathaniel says lightly, sitting beside the mage. At the name, he gives a bit of a squint.

"I've known other mages named that, though you look more the part than they did." The drink is brought, and Nathaniel sips his whisky. "Nathaniel Bryland."

A wealthy family, but not a noble one any longer.

[justice_is_blond]

"So I've heard," he says dryly, leaning back in his chair after he has the new drink and tipping the glass in Nathaniel's direction for a brief moment before taking a sip. "And here's a Nathaniel offering me a drink. You don't look far off the part either, tall, dark, mysteriously handsome."

There's a smile in his eyes. The story of Nathaniel and Anders isn't the happiest one, or even the most agreed-upon one, as opposite the story of Aveline and Donnic as one could get in that particular set of Age-old stories, but his life hasn't exactly been happy.

"My mother has always been a fan of everything Tale of the Champion, contradictory or not. My watchers have always been the opposite of fans of everything magic that was in those stories, unfortunately. Or maybe they're peeved because there are times I live up to the name in small ways." Like coming to this pub in particular, hanging with this crowd, protesting the curfew and the checks and the watching and the travel restrictions... and also violating those travel restrictions and the curfew. But that's more than Nathaniel needs to know just yet. "I can at least promise I only blow things in very private settings, and I do it very well."

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Nathaniel was just about the relationship between a Nathaniel and the Anders of legend in a tale he is only casually acquainted with, when suddenly he gets something well more than a signal--it is an offer. He grins and blushes immediately, gaze turning to the side before returning to the handsome face.

"Well. You're allowed to be a little dangerous," he says lowly, with a gleam in his eye. "But I think I prefer the Anders in front of me right now. With or without access to a private setting--which I do have, by the by. My house isn't far."

[justice_is_blond]

He snickers. A man who can still blush is already offering up place to go? It's tempting, very tempting, but then the aforementioned Templar wanders in and Anders feels some of chase joy fade. There's a curfew tonight, as there is every night, and the Brylands aren't entirely unknown even if he'd not commented on the family name. The last thing Anders wants is to be hauled out of bed and dragged half-naked to check in with whomever the lead Templar on duty is, and Bartram would know just where to find him.

There's also the fact that running off for fun with a noble isn't the smartest move for a mage, but it doesn't feel like as much of a worry as it could be. Nathaniel's not giving off any sort of warning flags even though he'd agreed rather quickly to sneaking off with a potentially dangerous mage.

"Maybe let's spend a little more time talking, to start. The watchdogs are more watchful than usual right now." A touch of sheepishness enters his expression. "Someone may have made it onto a ship and it was actually pulling out of dock before they noticed. They don't like any unscheduled departures."

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Dark eyebrows rise a little.

"Really?" Nathaniel has to ask, settling in for a story. "This sounds like a good one. How did you get on in the first place?" With identification and all required before boarding, it seems like a feat.

[justice_is_blond]

"Who says it was me?" His innocent look isn't perfect, but it's a near thing... until he drops it to grin.

"I'm rather good at clearing up infections that people get in, let's say, personal areas. There's a forger of papers who has issues fairly regularly, so I got him to agree to help. Of course, I had to get someone to take the type of picture they require too, which had me running errands all over Denerim. The photographer wanted to try one of the new fruits that are being imported, mangoes, the importer wanted a certain sort of cheese, the cheesemonger wanted embroidery on his boots, it was quite the task. And that was just the start of matters."

He takes another drink, smile leaving his face as Bartram gets close enough that he might be able to hear anything else. The dark-haired, very tall, very bulky Templar looked like he'd never smiled in his life, and Anders hadn't seen anything to disprove that.

"Anders," he says in a voice that sounds like he gargles with gravel. Anders hasn't seen anything to disprove that either. "I hope you're not bothering this man."

Anders rolls his eyes in a display of insubordination that he doesn't quite feel. He doesn't think Nathaniel will turn around and sell him out, but he's been wrong before and a citizen complaining about a mage bothering them, especially a wealthy citizen, could earn him five lashes yet again. He's very tired of being lashed. Not tired enough to start being a perfectly obedient mage, though.

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"Please, ser," Nathaniel says, suddenly feeling quite testy and giving the templar a scathing look, "I am having a private conversation."

It's not that he gets immediately irate every time he is interrupted when in lovely company, it's that this one is strangely different. Anders is...something. Vulnerable, at the very least, which brings out something desperately protective in him. He thinks it would be true whether he was attracted to the man or not. He turns back to Anders and lifts his glass.

"Sorry about that. Do continue."

[justice_is_blond]

He's not used to someone actually protecting him. The look on Bartram's face says much the same thing as the man stiffly nods and walks away, going to talk to another mage briefly before making his exit. Anders watches him go, amber gaze contemplative. How'd the story gone again? Nathaniel Howe had tried to protect Anders but just didn't get there in time, if what he'd read was true. This Nathaniel at least seemed a little more decent with the timing.

Anders takes another drink before giving Nathaniel a quiet smile. "Right. I was at... I was at the papers. I'd gotten them, but then you have to find a captain willing to have you on their ship, and one who doesn't need to go check any names with the local Knight-Captain. Most don't fit any of those requirements, but I've happened to, ahem, meet with one who is vehemently anti-slavery and I'd a small hope she'd help. Once I had the papers and she could cover her own ass and the ass of her crew, she was in. I was going to heal on their ship for a time until I or them tired of the arrangement. It would have been lovely."

And not just the freedom. Naishe was always good company.

"Unfortunately, they'd a surprise check-in that day for all of us to make sure we were where we said. I got checked up on first because of my reputation, and you know the rest."

He probably didn't, not the full of it. Most people didn't pay attention to how many things could get mages punished, and how severely, because at least they had freedom, right? They weren't all locked up in those old fortresses. They were supposed to be grateful. And he was... but he also wanted more.

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A look of awe, wide and genuinely disturbed.

"You like to make it easy for the templars," he says facetiously, the wording coming to him without a thought. "What a thing to have, in this day and age. I'm...woefully under-educated, it appears."

All thought of sex put aside, Nathaniel is now concerned. He glances away briefly.

"I...suppose I came on a bit strong, earlier," he says self-consciously. Sheepishly, even. His privilege must have been showing very obviously, as was his ignorance. "I apologize."

[justice_is_blond]

He studies Nathaniel for a few moments before shrugging. He's not so relaxed just yet that he's ready to unload entirely on a stranger.

"People are still afraid of us. It's not as bad as it was in Ages past, but I can't say we've exactly reached a good point just yet. I appreciate being able to study what I'd like, when I'd like, being able to come out to a pub, being able to have company, but unlike as is expected, I don't feel like it's enough. Yes, yes, there's always a risk of abominations, yes, they'd like to know where one might come from, but that's not all we are. We're not just vessels that will suddenly erupt into flames and tentacles and murder. ...But given my name I have to say such things more through minorly rebellious actions than actual words, because Maker forbid reports get out about a mage named Anders speaking out against the current order of things."

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"Is the name really that much of a trouble to you?" Nathaniel tilts his head, considering the man. "What a superficial nothing for people to fixate on."

That story, the tale of the Champion, had been remarkable and heartbreaking. He's not sure he ever agreed with the idea of Anders getting what he deserved. That's always been the saddest part, the reason he only read the book once and never again. There was something truly upsetting about it.

Belatedly he inquires, "Tentacles?" with a skeptical look.

[justice_is_blond]

The smile comes back at the first question, widening at the second.

"The name likely wouldn't be much trouble if I wasn't very blonde, very flirtatious, and very prone to... slipping away," he admits. "There's another mage named Anders in Denerim too, but he's dark-haired and loves sitting and reading for days on end. The Templars are never worried about him."

His mother had admired story-Anders' resolve, even when it cost him everything. He thinks part of that might be because she had to find her own way when abandoned, and needed strength to get through everything on her own. Especially the raising of him - he's always loved his mother, but that hadn't translated to a great deal of behavior on his part.

"And yes," he says, wiggling fingers in Nathaniel's direction, "tentacles. Desire abominations can be very interesting."

[justice_is_blond]

He's got legitimate butterflies in his stomach as the hour arrives and he dresses in the nicest dress cape. The pants are a little worn, but they're clean and pressed and his shirt is white and tucked in. After a half-dozen more consultations with the mirror he heads down to the lobby of the building and tries not to fidget as he waits. He's not quite successful with standing still, but at least he manages to appear to ignore the way the Templars watching him. This is allowed. It's legal. He's not breaking any rules or misusing magic. Just actually hoping, and he's not supposed to be able to hope, or something like that.

For the fifteenth time he fixes his earring as if twisting it would make it sparkle more or something, and Anders rocks to the balls of his feet.

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As eager as he is to get there early and spend as much time as possible with a very promising date, Nathaniel makes sure to turn up only a little before they would have to leave in order to make their dinner reservations. He is clean, freshly shaved, and spritzed with just enough cologne to be both pleasant and tasteful. When he sees Anders, he is very nearly surprised--he looks handsome, but also dressed-up and clearly making an effort. Doesn't he know Nathaniel is low-hanging fruit?

He smiles and offers the man a single white rose that has clearly not come from a florist, but from someone's very well-tended garden. Unlike the store variety, it is full and fragrant, but has mercifully been de-thorned.

[justice_is_blond]

A rose.

He takes it feeling a little bit in disbelief all over again, and feeling weird like he was standing elsewhere, or something, for a moment. And that maybe this was too easy, or too... he doesn't know.

"Already bringing the romance, I see," he says with warm shock. There are more people watching now, probably surprised that someone's actually bothering with dating Anders when he's known for being fairly easy. Honestly, he's even a little surprised he hadn't just invited Nathaniel up, but he doesn't want to lose the confused, fuzzy, happy and befuddled feeling the man gives him just yet.

"You look fantastic. Shall we?" He gets the door, eager to get out before anyone brings Nathaniel to reality about who Anders is, and how very much not worth a rose he is.

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"You look gorgeous." Nathaniel was going to say 'lovely', but it got surpassed by 'fantastic' first. He opens the door for Anders and they are off.

The Antivan restaurant isn't the most expensive or exclusive place in town, but it is Nathaniel's favorite. The spices can be smelled as they enter and are shown to their seats. Nathaniel orders a bottle of red wine right away and smiles at Anders as the server disappears to bring their drinks.

[justice_is_blond]

It's not like no mages get luxuries. There are plenty of families that welcome their mage children now, and it's not even that Anders has never saved up for a splurge-filled evening. But being raised by a single mother and then not getting the good, well-paying jobs because he's not trusted to behave himself means it's not common, and the fact that he tends to kiss and run means there's no one who is going to invest this in him.

"I have to know something," he says as he waits for the wine to come. "I feel like I've seen you before, or run into you, or... I don't know. It's more than that, but I can't put my finger on it. Have we met before and I've forgotten?"

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"I was wondering the same thing!" Nathaniel hadn't wanted to say it. "I've been trying to think of where we might have met before all week. Where did you go to school?"

[justice_is_blond]

So while it's not that Nathaniel remembers him with fondness while he's forgotten, at least.

"Our Mother Justinia's until my abilities manifested at fourteen, then it was Grace of the Maker's School for Mage Children until I got on the nerves of too many Templars there, at which time I was moved to Vigilant's Watch, the school for mages who are trouble even if no one will officially name it that." He flashes a grin at Nathaniel. "But as Justinia's was for the poor and the other two are for mages I'd wager you didn't attend either. Perhaps you were near one?"

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Nathaniel shakes his head. "None of those, no. I actually grew up in South Reach, but I thought it was worth asking."

He squints and studies Anders' face, now that they have a moment and are seated. Part of it really comes down to analyzing himself as much as his date.

"I'd remember an Anders I'd met," he says. "Or I would connect it, somehow. I did have one incidence with mages, though--my parents took me to a mage healer, when I was a kid and kept having this nightmare."

Of course, they would both have looked completely different back then.

[justice_is_blond]

He considers that for a moment. They'd been in that area for a short time, his mother traveling for a conference, but then he shakes his head. "My mother's healing ability was minimal. She could take care of small things, but she'd not have been consulted for an ailment like dreams. I'd know. I'd some rough ones as well, though they decided that was due to my connection to the Fade once I turned out to be a mage."

She'd been able to hold him and rock him through the worst of them, though, the ones where the sky turned to flame and dust and his entire back was in agony when he woke, something about how he'd twisted and turned in his sleep. They'd kept most of the details of those quiet. He'd not been in trouble back then, but there was still no reason to invite trouble when you're the child of a mage and a bit of a smartass to boot.

"Maybe there's... I'd ask if you'd been on television but I've not so that doesn't explain why you find me familiar too. And I know I'm too pretty to have one of those faces so it's not that."

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"You don't have one of those faces, no." Nathaniel steeples his fingers and peers at Anders intently. "What kinds of dreams did you have?"

Because commonality might be more important than recognition, at this point. Nathaniel is still plagued by dreams. Maybe they have some similar ailment.

[justice_is_blond]

He's quiet for a moment, feeling an odd slight shyness that he manages to shrug off both mentally and physically.

"There's... it's bad. I don't know where I am, but I can't move. I can only wait. There's dust enough that I feel like I'm choking, like the wind's kicked up over the desert and I want to leave and go anywhere, I want to run, but I can't. I... won't, almost. There's aware-me who wants to get out of there and there's dream-me who is staying, and I always wake up in a mess of twisted blankets in some weird position that's killing my back. I set the bed on fire once too, that was a bad way to wake up. The worst of it is just how vivid it feels, like I could suffocate there. What of yours?"

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It is unsettling to hear. A dream about waiting. And why would it be so frightening to Anders if he wasn't waiting for death, or something like it? Nathaniel realizes this isn't normal first-date chatter, but Anders is different somehow. Like they're already several dates in.

"It's, um, I'm in these, these tunnels I suppose. I can hear a song that's beautiful and horrible, I can't explain it any better. I keep thinking I need to...it's what you described, dream-me versus actual me, and actual me wants to find sunlight, but the tunnels are enormous and I don't know how far in I am. Dream-me isn't looking at anything else, just going further into the darkness till something jumps out at me. I clearly see it attack but I don't feel anything, and the song stops and I wake up."