#where stewy's family are tevinter non-mage merchants whose relative status and security atm are hinged upon being based in ferelden

[eastgaysian]

STEWY: ken! i'm glad you're alive, but i'm sure you'll understand if i don't shake your hand.

KENDALL: oh—the anchor. it's, uh, not contagious, don't worry.

STEWY: 'the anchor.' ooh, scary. to me it looks a lot like you've got a smaller version of the breach tearing apart your hand, but the maker works in mysterious ways. is that how you talk to andraste? can you stick your ear through into the fade?

KENDALL: look, stewy. i need you. i've sent word to my family, but you know my dad. he's not going to throw me a bone until i've, you know, killed the hart myself. i'm going to close the breach, but the inquisition needs friends, supplies, an army. you can help me get all three.

STEWY: right. and why should i do that?

KENDALL: uh, to help save the world?

STEWY: of course. it's just when you're talking to an orlesian marquis who had all his cousins assassinated to get the title, they do love the idea of the world getting saved. everybody does. they just want someone else to do it in a way that doesn't endanger any of their precious gold.

KENDALL: right. but you can convince them to pitch in a little. i don't need a lot from any one person. i need a little from everybody. we're all fucked if the breach doesn't get closed.

STEWY: and you can close the breach?

KENDALL: if you help me, yes.

STEWY: if i'm going to start calling in favors to get you an army, ken, i need to know there's a plan.

KENDALL: it's—i have—i'm working on it. i have what i need to make a plan. my advisors are the best in the fucking business, the templars—

STEWY: the drugged-up choir boys? what are they going to do, wave their swords and chant at the hole in the sky?