video;

[noble_son]

After a conversation a short while ago, I find myself wondering if anyone has ever made any attempt to organise a group of people willing to teach other capable individuals their combat skills.

[He had thought about simply doing it himself - he knows he can, but he will get nowhere by stepping on toes.]

If they haven't, then I'd like to begin. It won't be something suitable for everyone, but it should be available to everyone, should they want and be able to engage in it.

Comments

[noble_son]

I've been talking my way out of trouble for far longer than you've known me.

[Nathaniel answers with a laugh, a direct response to the snort that comes from the mage. It's certainly easier to talk like this, when he isn't feeling the prickly side of his own personality.

'Troublemaker' is a word he would use, certainly, but 'reliable' is one he will apply without jest. Anders may do many things that Nathaniel would wish he wouldn't, but one thing he's yet to do is let him down.]

Would you help me hide a body? You never know when something like that might come up.

[circlejerked]

Nice try, but I was there when you were locked up at Vigil's Keep, remember?

_{[He laughs, too, but at the memory of how exasperated the Warden-Commander had been trying to convince Nathaniel to see reason. He'd been about as smooth-tongued as a rampaging bull ready to trample everyone in sight. The Howe family charm at work, no doubt.]}

I'd consider it! But you're digging the hole. I'll cover up a murder, but I draw the line at getting blisters.

[noble_son]

And I got out of it, didn't I?

[He is absolutely charming, how dare you. In the end, he supposes that he was just lucky that the Warden-Commander didn't want him beheaded on the spot. Killing two Orlesian guards should have warranted it. Telling her he'd probably just come back to try and kill her if he let her go should have swayed her hand.

Nathaniel has cooled down considerably since then, though he's still just as hard-headed.]

Can you not just magic a hole in the ground? [Vague hand gesture.] That sounds like the easier option.

[circlejerked]

Because of the Commander's goodwill, I believe is how the official story goes. But if that's the version you're sticking with...

_{[Trailing off, Anders shrugs with a wide smile, the implied whatever gets you through the day clear in his spread hands.]}

Why would I do that? You hypothetically murdered someone. You should do a little penance--just to dot your is and cross your ts, if nothing else.

[noble_son]

Details.

[He smirks faintly in response, shrugging it off in a way that makes it clear he knows exactly how it went, but he's still going along with the joke.]

I suppose you have a point, but your definition of 'helping' needs some work.

[circlejerked]

Fussy, fussy.

_{[Nathaniel really has been spending too much time with him. Or he had in the past, if he and his Anders aren't Wardens together anymore. Trying to keep track of what could, should, or would happen in the course of events is enough to put a person's brain in knots.]}

Anyone ever tell you you've got the bar set a teensy bit high?

[noble_son]

By Andraste, all I'm asking is for some help digging a hole while I hide a hypothetical body.

[He's trying not to smile, and would not deny that time spent with Anders in his past may have had an influence on him. Whether that influence had been good or not was not an opinion that Anders was going to get out of him.

Better to leave the mage in suspense.]

I don't think that's too much to ask of a trusted friend.

[circlejerked]

Like I said, fussy.

_{[A wave of his hand. Blisters are your cross to bear, Nathaniel.]}

A trusted friend will keep your secret--any more is getting greedy. The line is drawn, Nathaniel. Thou shalt do your own menial labor. Thou shalt not commit murder is probably in there, too, but... there's only so much to be done about that one.

_{[When you're a Thedosian, joking about murder is more or less on the same level as discussing the weather.]}

[noble_son]

This escalated quickly. [Nathaniel comments after a moment of thought.] What in the Maker's name were we talking about?

[He has to think about it, gaze drifting, before he jumps off the segue they had created and finds the original topic again.]

Combat practice. How did we get to theoretical murder?

[circlejerked]

<sub>[Did it, though? Did it, really? Random escalation is how Anders remembers many of the company's conversations going, and the thought oddly fills him with a warm sense of nostalgia for Ferelden.

Shrugging, Anders helpfully fills in the pause with:]</sub>

You using people for targets? At the rate you're going, one wrong shot and murder might be right around the corner.

[noble_son]

[There's some truth there, and he feels the same nostalgia along with perhaps a little less warmth than Anders. One never does forget the pervading smell of dog over Ferelden, and it has the effect of making one wonder why they miss it so much.]

Next time, I may accidentally aim in your direction, Anders.

['Accidentally'.]

[circlejerked]

You'd make me Rutherford's sloppy seconds, and after all I've done for you? And hypothetically would do as per this conversation?

_{[Rude, Nathaniel. Anders draws back, nose up in the look of someone insulted.]}

Just for that, you can hide your own bodies.

[noble_son]

Ah, I see how it is. Clearly our friendship means nothing to you.

[Both eyebrows lift, and there's something in his eyes that's almost like a challenge. He's joking, of course, falling into the swing of jabbing at the mage like an old friend.]

If you won't help me hide a theoretical body then I really don't know where we go from here.