Dorian and Anders Banters
Dorian: Your magic is incredibly boring, Anders. Anders: It’s healing magic. It’s not supposed to be flashy. Dorian: But it could be, couldn’t it? Surely you could throw in a bit of flair here and there. Anders: Sure. Next time you get stabbed by a Red Templar, I’ll be sure to stop to twirl my staff around before I heal you. Dorian: I wouldn’t want it any other way.
───────
Anders: I don’t think I’ve ever met a real necromancer before. Dorian: We are a rare and remarkable find, certainly. Anders: I’ve heard it’s one of the hardest schools of magic to master. Dorian: The hardest, actually. Although, spirit healing isn’t easy either, from what I’ve heard. Anders: I guess. I mean, I’ve studied and practiced hard, of course, but to some extent it’s always come naturally to me. (Cole: You want to help, and so do they. They like you because you let them.)
───────
Anders: So. You bind spirits to your enemies’ corpses and make them fight for you in battle. I can’t tell if that’s fascinating or creepy. Dorian: Oh, fascinating, definitely. Haven you ever watched me in action? I am very impressive. Anders: You, sure. Necromancy? A bit of both, at best. Dorian: Fair enough. I’ll take it.
───────
Dorian: Spirits really are fond of you, aren’t they? First spirit healing, then Justice, and now you’ve got Cole following you around as well. (Cole: He’s hurting, both of him are. I just want to help.) Anders: What can I say? It’s my natural charm. Dorian: You are fairly charming, for a Southerner. Anders: Well, technically, I’m part Anders. Dorian: I’ve been to the Anderfels, believe me, charm is not something that could possibly come from them. Unless, of course, your family possessed the last of the fun and attractive genes. Anders: We did. That’s the true reason the wardens are hunting me. The whole deserting and blowing up a chantry thing is secondary to my true crime. Anders: Wait, you think I’m attractive? Dorian: For a Southerner, at least. // (if romanced) Dorian: Not the most attractive Southerner I’ve met, that title is taken, unfortunately. But you’re not bad either.
───────
Anders: What is it like, Dorian? Dorian: Being as handsome as I am in a world full of mediocrity, you mean? It’s a burden I am happy to bear. Anders: I meant living in Tevinter. Growing up respected, and free. Being able to cast a spell without immediately worrying someone is going to kill you or lock you up for it. Dorian: We still have to worry about that last part, sometimes. Getting assassinated certainly cuts back on one’s freedoms. Dorian: But that’s not the same, is it? Honestly, I don’t know what I can say about it. It just… is. I’ve never known anything else. Anders: Lucky. Dorian: Yes. I… sorry.
───────
Anders: I wanted to apologize, Dorian. I think I was a bit… bitter when we last spoke. Dorian: No, no, no need for apologies. From what I know of the South’s treatment of mages, you have every right to be. Anders: Still, that’s not your fault. And the spirit in my head doesn’t like it when I don’t make amends for even minor wrongdoings. So, I apologize. Dorian: Well, I hereby absolve you your crime. You can tell your spirit that all is forgiven. Anders: He can hear you. And thanks.
───────
Dorian: What is it like living in the Circle, Anders? I can’t even imagine. Anders: Sure you can. Just picture Skyhold, but with less windows and dark dungeons. And also imagine that about a third of the people you see around you are Templars who want you dead. Dorian: Well, that sounds… charming. Anders: Oh, it was great. Sometimes I miss little rituals like checking under my bunk for murderous Templars before bed. Dorian: Well, Cullen’s still here. I’m sure you could check for him, if you like. Anders: True. I guess things haven’t changed that much after all.
───────
Anders: You aren’t afraid of your magic, Dorian. Dorian: Is there a reason I should be? It isn’t as though it can manifest a will of its own and rebel against me. Anders: No, obviously not. But… It’s different when you grow up in the Circle. Or anywhere in Thedas influenced by our Chantry, really. Anders: It’s just… it’s hard not to listen when everyone tells you over and over you’re dangerous, or cursed. Dorian: Well, you’re not. I can’t claim divine certainty, but I do fancy myself somewhat of an expert on magic. It’s a skill like any other, and there’s nothing wrong with it. Anders: I appreciate the impassioned lecture, Dorian, but I’m an adult. I know all that. It’s just… your mind lies to you sometimes, makes you doubt the things you should know. Does that make sense, or do I just sound crazy? Dorian: No, your words are clear as crystal, unfortunately. I don’t know that there’s anything I can do about that. But if you ever need reminding that magic is good, I’d be happy to put on a little show for you. Anders: Perfect. You can remind me of the positives of magic by pulling spirits out of the Fade and animating decaying corpses with them. Dorian: Exactly. Nothing says “harmless fun” quite like an army of living corpses. Maybe I can make them dance? Anders: Now that would cheer me up.
───────
Dorian: I’m planning to go back to Tevinter, when this is all over. Anders: And here I thought the South was growing on you. Any day now I expect you to come out of your room dressed in furs and heavy armour, talking about how at home the smell of wet dogs makes you feel. Dorian: (shudders) Perish the thought. Dorian: But I’m not just bragging, this time. I was going to find a boat back after Corypheus is defeated. If you’d like, I could find one that seats one extra person. Dorian: Or, two extra people in one body, as it were. Justice would come too, I presume. Anders: Are you… asking me to come with you? Why? Dorian: The Chantry is still looking for you, and I don’t imagine they’d be satisfied with a heartfelt apology and a promise not to do it again. Not to mention, if you’re looking for somewhere to hide without being persecuted for your magic, there’s nowhere in Thedas better than Tevinter. Anders: That’s… This may be one of the nicest things anyone has ever offered to do for me. Dorian: Come now, don’t get sappy on me. Anders: Too late. It’s happening. I might even cry. Dorian: If you get your tears all over my robes, you’re uninvited. Anders: (laughs) Anders: Thank you for the offer, Dorian. I’ll think about it.
───────
Anders: Dorian, I’ve considered your offer. Dorian: And?
(if Anders is with Hawke) (Or the Warden because insert kicks canon into the sun gif here) Anders: I think I’ll suffer through the South a while longer. It’s not all bad here. Dorian: You mean that one person in particular who makes it worth it. Anders: That helps, yes. Dorian: Fair enough. // (if romanced) I know what that’s like. Dorian: Well, if the two of you change your mind, do stop by and say hello. If you don’t, I might forget how grateful I am to be back somewhere that doesn’t smell like cold and wet all the time.
(otherwise) Anders: I’m in. Dorian: Wonderful! I’ll have Josephine get you a new wardrobe right away. Anders: What? Why? What’s wrong with my clothes? Dorian: As much as I’ve come to appreciate this “feathered creature dragged through a Marcher swamp” look, it isn’t exactly in style in Tevinter right now. Anders: (muttering) I lived in the sewers, not a swamp. Dorian: Yes. My bad. I’m sure that will make you much more popular with my countrymen. Dorian: Don’t worry, you’re in good hands. Anders: Thank you, Dorian. Not for insulting my clothes. For… well, everything else. Dorian: It’s the least I can do for a friend. Dorian: But enough of that. If you cry again, then I’ll cry, and then we’ll both look stuffy and miserable for the rest of the trip. We’ll discuss plans when we return to Skyhold.
