I know I'm not. I can hide a lot under these robes, but deformations and oozing pustules is giving me a little too much credit.
[He grips his knees and squeezes. The joke is hollow, a shield he makes a token effort to erect until his agitation shreds it to pieces like tissue paper. Anders surges to his feet all of a sudden, expression stormy with conflicting indignation and anxiousness, and paces the length of the bed.]
And I know demons! I know what they'll spin to try and make it seem worth a mage's while, what weaknesses they'll try to take advantage of. I know it's not worth it. No mage worth his salt says, "yes, sure come right in!"
[But still, he's angry. He's angry because he can't completely brush off the finger-pointing pointing as baseless. Underneath it all, there's a glimmer of damning truth he can't pretend isn't there, the spark of hope he'd started to nurture at having a plan to escape the templars hiding in the Wardens' ranks.
Most of all, he's angry at himself... and Justice. He already has a guess who this would-be demon is, and he was supposed to be Anders' ticket to a new life. Instead the plan they'd worked out amounts to this? Textbook possession? Becoming the very thing mages' fear and simultaneously make the butt of their jokes?
Anders would've said "yes," that's the rub. Not for power, but for a friend. That's what scares him most.]
I... [Coming to a stop, Anders seems to deflate, his will to protest draining out in a slow and steady trickle like blood from an open wound.] The thing is, there's something I haven't been saying. Something that makes part of their story plausible.
[Just enough to make Anders uncomfortable admitting it someone else for fear of how it'll sound.]
action;
[He grips his knees and squeezes. The joke is hollow, a shield he makes a token effort to erect until his agitation shreds it to pieces like tissue paper. Anders surges to his feet all of a sudden, expression stormy with conflicting indignation and anxiousness, and paces the length of the bed.]
And I know demons! I know what they'll spin to try and make it seem worth a mage's while, what weaknesses they'll try to take advantage of. I know it's not worth it. No mage worth his salt says, "yes, sure come right in!"
[But still, he's angry. He's angry because he can't completely brush off the finger-pointing pointing as baseless. Underneath it all, there's a glimmer of damning truth he can't pretend isn't there, the spark of hope he'd started to nurture at having a plan to escape the templars hiding in the Wardens' ranks.
Most of all, he's angry at himself... and Justice. He already has a guess who this would-be demon is, and he was supposed to be Anders' ticket to a new life. Instead the plan they'd worked out amounts to this? Textbook possession? Becoming the very thing mages' fear and simultaneously make the butt of their jokes?
Anders would've said "yes," that's the rub. Not for power, but for a friend. That's what scares him most.]
I... [Coming to a stop, Anders seems to deflate, his will to protest draining out in a slow and steady trickle like blood from an open wound.] The thing is, there's something I haven't been saying. Something that makes part of their story plausible.
[Just enough to make Anders uncomfortable admitting it someone else for fear of how it'll sound.]