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[circlejerked]

Um. All right, no one panic, but I may have underestimated these magic closets of ours and accidentally... done something.

<sub>[Anders' voice, sounding contrite. In the background, an unremitting stream of noise threatens to drown him out--it's meowing, rising and falling at different pitches like a tone-deaf a cappella group trying to harmonize and failing miserably.

The camera settles unsteadily on the hem of his robes before he sets it down and steps back. The source of the caterwauling then becomes apparent: in his arms are four young cats of various shapes and color, two tucked under each arm.

By the sounds of it, more are audible off-screen. Many, many more.]</sub>

I wasn't thinking... Well, I was, I was thinking how much more homey this place would be with a cute cat or two, and then--and then they were just there, and everywhere, and now there are a few more than two. If you have cat allergies, stay off the fourth floor.

_{[As if on cue, a kitten on stubby legs capers across the floor behind him. Anders, noticing movement on the screen, squints closely for a second, then looks for the real thing over his shoulder.]}

One's making a run for it. Alistair! Alistair, catch it, my hands are full.

_{[From somewhere off among the caterwauling comes a response, the owner appearing shortly after--]}

I see it!

_{[Alistair runs past in the background, two cats under one arm and what is presumably another squirming about down his shirt. He comes back into view a moment later, the escapee cradled in his free hand. Shoving the kitten in Anders' face--where it proceeds to bat at his nose--he frowns at the other man.]}

This is getting ridiculous. We can't keep track of all of them. Is anyone coming to-- Ow!

_{[The yelp comes as the squirming under his shirt grows more energetic and with a slightly panicked look Alistair disappears from view again, kittens in tow. The only hint as to his fate comes as an increase in the mewling and the sound of fabric ripping mercifully out of sight.]}

I'm getting to that part!

_{[Anders stares after him, eyebrows drawn up in alarm, before dragging his eyes back to the camera.]}

Uhhh, it's okay, everything's fine, we have things completely under control, but as you can tell, we're in possession of some cats who could use a loving home! Soft, furry cats! Adorable, see? They're domesticated, easy to care for, and make excellent house pets. That one doesn't appear to be a fan of Alistair's shirt, but some are more fashion conscious than others.

I don't know if I can take care of them all. If you'd like to take one, we'll be giving them away free of charge in the ballroom. First floor, you can't miss it! _{[Anders then points a finger sternly, though the effect is mitigated by the wide-eyed kittens holding onto his arm.]} But no funny business. If you consider cats a delicacy, I'm warning you now, we're both heavily armed. People wanting to make mittens out of their fur need not apply.

_{(OOC: Come find the log over here!)}

Comments

[cabalistically]

I've the capabilities to care for four animals.

[ He isn't doing anything else and after trying to care for former elven slaves, he can't imagine four cats will be harder than that. ]

Perhaps it is more accurate to say I am a fan of aiding those helpless to aid themselves.

[circlejerked]

You won't catch me arguing! Four is a perfectly respectable number.

_{[The elf won't regret it! Unless he'd ever like to eat a meal or sleep through the night in peace again--then he might be out of luck with a quartet of cats keeping him busy.]}

I wouldn't be surprised if they became strays that could live off the magic here as we do. Cats are more industrious than people in more ways than one. But it doesn't seem right not to take care of them now.

_{[This is probably as close as he'll come to fathering children in his lifetime and he feels a sense of responsibility to his brood of furry charges. He smiles affectionately at the ones he's holding, and then at Solas.]}

We'll be taking them down to the ballroom shortly so they can stretch their legs undisturbed. You can come to our floor now, or come to the ballroom to see which ones you like.

[cabalistically]

[ Lucky for Solas, he doesn’t eat much. And without the Fade to walk through in his dreams, there’s really no reason to sleep save exhaustion. ]

I’ve known many magical animals. Cats are not quite like griffons, but they’re noble in their own way.

[ And if they do show an aptitude for the magic here, well, then Solas will do his best to guide them. Even if he cannot speak the feline language. ]

I shall come to you directly. There’s little sense in making you carry them to the ballroom.

[circlejerked]

You think these cats have magical properties? If I didn't know how they were made, I'd have thought they were regular house cats by the look of them.

_{[They're surprisingly unremarkable for magic closet cats. They don't even breathe fire.]}

We'll be here. I'm Anders. _{[A glance off-screen to check where Alistair's gotten off to.]} And you might know Alistair. We won't be going anywhere in a hurry for a while.

[cabalistically]

They may. Time will tell.

[ And even if they don't, it will be interesting to watch how creatures constructed seemingly from nothing but a wish and a magic closet behave. ]

I know both of you, by reputation if not personally. Varric spoke of you often during our time in the Inquisition. [ Yet despite being aware of who Anders is and of his reputation, there's no censure in Solas' voice or expression. Instead, he smiles pleasantly. ] I am Solas. And I shall be there directly to retrieve my new friends.

[circlejerked]

I suppose it will.

_{[He contemplates the fuzzballs still cradled in the loop of his arms and can't fathom appreciating them any less whether they're magical or mundane.]}

Who's the cutest magical artifacts around? You, and you, and you! And you, too.

_{[Varric is someone he knows by reputation, and the mention of his name and of the Inquisition does wonders to ruin the moment. Nothing like time travelling Thedosians to rain on one's parade. Anders' eyebrow arches wryly.]}

I'll bet he did. Not that I know who that is. Different time, different history. You know the drill. But it saves me time introducing myself and that's always a plus. A pleasure.

_{[Anders can't complain--this is vastly better than the last time he'd spoken to an elf.]}

[cabalistically]

[ Put like that—magical artifacts instead of cats—they're even more appealing to Solas. He watches Anders baby the cats for a moment, his expression placid even as he wonders if these creatures haven't addled his mind in some way. ]

Yes, I have heard that accounts from Thedas vary widely across those in residence.

[ Like Anders, Solas does not dwell on these discrepancies. That their memories of their homeland are not uniform is the curious part to him. The actual differences don't much matter. ]

Consider yourself fortunate for your lack of recollection. The dwarf was often tiresome with his stories.

[circlejerked]

I never thought I'd be glad not to look toward the future, but I am. The Inquisition is still just the ancient organization that founded the Templar Order, and I'll be happy if it stays that way.

_{[Anders can live without abominations, and mage-templar wars, and corrupt magisters, and all of the rest of it. One day, one week, one month at a time, that's the key. Worrying too much over people he hasn't met and events he hasn't seen is a quick way to drive himself mad.]}

I hope the tales he spun were flattering.

_{[It's a joke. He knows enough by now to guess they probably weren't, not by a long shot.]}

[cabalistically]

[ Solas smiles faintly, the expression one of understanding and relatively little judgment. As a man who has had unflattering stories told of him for thousands of years, he knows what it is to expect all those who have heard his name to expect the worst. ]

Some of them were. [ That’s genuine. ] He spoke of a man who made mistakes, yes, but through it all, he spoke of a friend.

[ Can Solas say similar? Perhaps. Perhaps not. He is not certain. ]

Whatever you’ve done, your friends still care. That is a rare gift.

[circlejerked]

_{[That's surprising.]}

... Really. "Friend" isn't a word I've heard bandied about much.

<sub>[Anders knows better than to trust in the world's implicit kindness; his first impulse hadn't been to look for friendship in the faces of strangers. But years spent living in Kirkwall is a long time. Perhaps he'd cultivated more than mere dissent there.

Or the other Anders had, at any rate. This Anders merely offers a full smile. He appreciates the elf's words, regardless of the truth of them.]</sub>

That's a gift I'll strive not to take lightly. Although my first thought is for not making anyone regret their friendship with me in the first place. That goes for old friends, current friends, and people who may become friends.

_{[That includes fellow cat lovers!]}