anders (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mewnifestos) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thepanicship2016-04-27 04:47 pm
mewnifestos) wrote in thepanicship2016-04-27 04:47 pm
Entry tags:
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Who: anders & other new arrivals!
What: mountains of paperwork, mage yelling, culture shock
Where: the new arrivals office, then (eventually) out and about + the nature reserve
When: first day!
Warning(s): none atm
[ sign here ...and here, and here, and here ]
[ If anyone had asked him (not that anyone has) a day or so ago whether the end of the world would be such a bad thing, Anders' reply might've been a mixed one. Just to think of all the lovely things that'd go with it - the Circles, the darkspawn, the Blight, the Chantry, that surly fellow who camps outside the clinic doors and picks his nails with a rusty bootknife all hours of the day. All the giant spiders and the damned qunari, too. What a bargain.
...But the reality of it now is a bit harder to take in. Especially when it comes wrapped up in all the bizarre trappings of a place even stranger than the Fade. Populated by beings not spirits or demons but terribly pushy and twice as irritating, besides.
Not to mention all the paperwork.
After waking up in an unfamiliar place (not totally unheard of), summarily blinded, manhandled, and frankly quite badly shocked (still less than an average outing with Hawke's usual run of unpleasantness), being asked to fill out a bunch of forms has a truly baffling mundanity about it. Enough for Anders to have reclaimed sufficient wits to get his feet back under him - and express a little warranted indignation. Or a lot of it. Loudly and with markedly little concern for the busy office around him (or the obviously impatient creature on the other side of the little window, still trying valiantly to offer him his unwieldy stack of papers and move him along). ]
You can't be serious! [ Terribly serious, says the look he's getting. And probably losing precious minutes off their lunch hour, too. ] I want answers, not an - an assignment! You're not getting word one out of me until someone tells me what's going on.
... What's really going on! You must think I'm an idiot to believe there's some flying ship in the sky that's swept us all up! That— That the entire world is gone! You're mad.
[ Although he's the one who currently looks it, ranting over the counter and holding up the line - and drawing the eye of at least a couple of security officers (one of whom might still be lightly smouldering from dragging him out of that wormhole in the first place, and eating half a reflexive gout of flame in the process). ]
[ walkabout ]
[ ...Eventually, though, Anders is miraculously compelled to settle down and (at least pretend) to finish the hours of paperwork required to move him along. (And good luck to whoever's processing those forms, given the outraged - and badly misspelled - diatribe that fills much of the pages.) Or perhaps he's just exhausted into it, well and truly tired even before the world ended. In any case, it's a breath of freedom, leaving behind the stuffy, crowded entry point.
If not exactly the most welcome one.
Shell-shocked before, Anders is positively gobsmacked by the sight of the ship proper. It's massive - and at once more impressive than any cavernous old thaig or vault-ceilinged palace, packed with crowds of unrecognizable shape and color, a sea of strange and unfamiliar sights.
And even clutching his dangerous-looking staff, still (now with a makeshift towel sling hooked through the toothed end, to carry his Guide and the handful of papers he pilfered in between half filling-out forms), he looks a side more approachable, now.
Or desperately in need of some assistance navigating this dizzying whirlwind of bizarreness. Either way. ]
[ camping out ]
[ Since he hasn't actually touched his Guide (other than to disinterestedly accept it and then toss it in with the rest of his things), Anders has no idea there's a room waiting with his name on it. So - he spends his first night in the only place it seems reasonable to, instead: the nature reserve.
And given the large, feathery ruff that tops off his robes, goes relatively unquestioned at it, as few are really interested in prying into the methods of what is clearly just another of the bird impersonators at work. Let alone one so obviously dedicated to the job as to work all night. Not that it ever really is night, on the floor he's managed to make his way to - but a pleasantly mild dawn. (When it isn't misting terribly.)
He stays well away from the path, not wanting to draw attention. But it's hard to miss the occasionally lit firepit, or, if one ventures closer, the great feathered mage alternately sleeping, cautiously exploring, and hunched over and scribbling furiously away on his borrowed papers with an equally borrowed pen. ]
What: mountains of paperwork, mage yelling, culture shock
Where: the new arrivals office, then (eventually) out and about + the nature reserve
When: first day!
Warning(s): none atm
[ sign here ...and here, and here, and here ]
[ If anyone had asked him (not that anyone has) a day or so ago whether the end of the world would be such a bad thing, Anders' reply might've been a mixed one. Just to think of all the lovely things that'd go with it - the Circles, the darkspawn, the Blight, the Chantry, that surly fellow who camps outside the clinic doors and picks his nails with a rusty bootknife all hours of the day. All the giant spiders and the damned qunari, too. What a bargain.
...But the reality of it now is a bit harder to take in. Especially when it comes wrapped up in all the bizarre trappings of a place even stranger than the Fade. Populated by beings not spirits or demons but terribly pushy and twice as irritating, besides.
Not to mention all the paperwork.
After waking up in an unfamiliar place (not totally unheard of), summarily blinded, manhandled, and frankly quite badly shocked (still less than an average outing with Hawke's usual run of unpleasantness), being asked to fill out a bunch of forms has a truly baffling mundanity about it. Enough for Anders to have reclaimed sufficient wits to get his feet back under him - and express a little warranted indignation. Or a lot of it. Loudly and with markedly little concern for the busy office around him (or the obviously impatient creature on the other side of the little window, still trying valiantly to offer him his unwieldy stack of papers and move him along). ]
You can't be serious! [ Terribly serious, says the look he's getting. And probably losing precious minutes off their lunch hour, too. ] I want answers, not an - an assignment! You're not getting word one out of me until someone tells me what's going on.
... What's really going on! You must think I'm an idiot to believe there's some flying ship in the sky that's swept us all up! That— That the entire world is gone! You're mad.
[ Although he's the one who currently looks it, ranting over the counter and holding up the line - and drawing the eye of at least a couple of security officers (one of whom might still be lightly smouldering from dragging him out of that wormhole in the first place, and eating half a reflexive gout of flame in the process). ]
[ walkabout ]
[ ...Eventually, though, Anders is miraculously compelled to settle down and (at least pretend) to finish the hours of paperwork required to move him along. (And good luck to whoever's processing those forms, given the outraged - and badly misspelled - diatribe that fills much of the pages.) Or perhaps he's just exhausted into it, well and truly tired even before the world ended. In any case, it's a breath of freedom, leaving behind the stuffy, crowded entry point.
If not exactly the most welcome one.
Shell-shocked before, Anders is positively gobsmacked by the sight of the ship proper. It's massive - and at once more impressive than any cavernous old thaig or vault-ceilinged palace, packed with crowds of unrecognizable shape and color, a sea of strange and unfamiliar sights.
And even clutching his dangerous-looking staff, still (now with a makeshift towel sling hooked through the toothed end, to carry his Guide and the handful of papers he pilfered in between half filling-out forms), he looks a side more approachable, now.
Or desperately in need of some assistance navigating this dizzying whirlwind of bizarreness. Either way. ]
[ camping out ]
[ Since he hasn't actually touched his Guide (other than to disinterestedly accept it and then toss it in with the rest of his things), Anders has no idea there's a room waiting with his name on it. So - he spends his first night in the only place it seems reasonable to, instead: the nature reserve.
And given the large, feathery ruff that tops off his robes, goes relatively unquestioned at it, as few are really interested in prying into the methods of what is clearly just another of the bird impersonators at work. Let alone one so obviously dedicated to the job as to work all night. Not that it ever really is night, on the floor he's managed to make his way to - but a pleasantly mild dawn. (When it isn't misting terribly.)
He stays well away from the path, not wanting to draw attention. But it's hard to miss the occasionally lit firepit, or, if one ventures closer, the great feathered mage alternately sleeping, cautiously exploring, and hunched over and scribbling furiously away on his borrowed papers with an equally borrowed pen. ]
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[ Exasperated, but - obviously - not sincere. ]
Really, I'm very reassured just to be speaking to another human, after all that.
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