[Anders does, after just a few minutes, find some herbs. It's luck, although he nearly misses it, caught up in his own thoughts; still, there's a gathering of elfroot right there.
He kneels down to collect it, and nearly collapses onto the ground. He has to cling to his staff to keep from falling on his face.
He wants to cry, suddenly and almost desperately. He doesn't cry much anymore, but he's so tired, and with Justice suddenly eerily silent, all his defenses seem to be gone. He's fought so hard for mages to have even the most basic rights, but he's finally realising he's entirely neglected to fight for his own.
Like the right to be happy. To have a home, someone who accepts him and wants him, who loves him far more than he deserves. Hawke gave him these things like it was nothing, like it wasn't something he'd been denied all his life, something he'd been taught through habit and harsh lessons never to even dream of; and then Anders had proven, just like he'd warned he would, that he didn't deserve any of it.
Right now he wants to be selfish. Justice is silent, and he wants to cry, and maybe it's even for himself. But how can he; so many people have it so much worse.
That thought has also become habit over the years.
He won't allow himself the luxury of self-pity. He draws a deep, but shaky breath, and starts gathering the elfroot, carefully putting it away in his pack. He's caused so much suffering, but he can't dwell on that now. Without the spirit's encouragement, it's difficult not to doubt himself, but it's done. And it might make things worse, or it might make things better; either way, he has to fight.
He feels numb and tired, like there's nothing of Anders left, and he's definitely not paying attention to his surroundings. Even when he turns, it takes him a moment to realise someone is there.]
--Hawke?
[The surprise is obvious on his face, even as his exhaustion is clear in his voice. His mouth is still open, like he wants to say something, but he really isn't sure what. He knows what he's done; he knew he was hurting Hawke even as he was doing it. Apologies are worthless. There really is nothing left he has to give.]
no subject
He kneels down to collect it, and nearly collapses onto the ground. He has to cling to his staff to keep from falling on his face.
He wants to cry, suddenly and almost desperately. He doesn't cry much anymore, but he's so tired, and with Justice suddenly eerily silent, all his defenses seem to be gone. He's fought so hard for mages to have even the most basic rights, but he's finally realising he's entirely neglected to fight for his own.
Like the right to be happy. To have a home, someone who accepts him and wants him, who loves him far more than he deserves. Hawke gave him these things like it was nothing, like it wasn't something he'd been denied all his life, something he'd been taught through habit and harsh lessons never to even dream of; and then Anders had proven, just like he'd warned he would, that he didn't deserve any of it.
Right now he wants to be selfish. Justice is silent, and he wants to cry, and maybe it's even for himself. But how can he; so many people have it so much worse.
That thought has also become habit over the years.
He won't allow himself the luxury of self-pity. He draws a deep, but shaky breath, and starts gathering the elfroot, carefully putting it away in his pack. He's caused so much suffering, but he can't dwell on that now. Without the spirit's encouragement, it's difficult not to doubt himself, but it's done. And it might make things worse, or it might make things better; either way, he has to fight.
He feels numb and tired, like there's nothing of Anders left, and he's definitely not paying attention to his surroundings. Even when he turns, it takes him a moment to realise someone is there.]
--Hawke?
[The surprise is obvious on his face, even as his exhaustion is clear in his voice. His mouth is still open, like he wants to say something, but he really isn't sure what. He knows what he's done; he knew he was hurting Hawke even as he was doing it. Apologies are worthless. There really is nothing left he has to give.]