This far from any land, the sea is calm, with just a gentle roll as the water moves. As far as the eye can see, there is glistening blue, uninterrupted by any sign of a shore.
High above, the sun beats down from a cloudless sky.
It is peaceful.
"I wouldn't dream of converting anyone, believe me. It seems to bring only pain to my kind."
"Hey, maybe you can talk to me about it some time. Kinda like the idea that there's some other religion than the crap the Protectorate spout."
"The Maker isn't much better, but I'd be happy to tell you about it sometime."
And then he will regret it.
Anders ducks his head, somewhat ashamedly. Years of Chantry rhetoric, however untrue, still left him with defending words coming to his lips. "Oh, I dunno. Something very cleansing in giving away everything you are. Self-flagellated for everything you're not."
"Indeed. I was put into a prison for the crime of being born, and yet I still consider myself an Andrastian."
"Maybe, but I made quite a large entrance. Plenty of ways to get your attention."
"Grim was the best bet we had about getting intel on anything weird going on this side of the equation."
"Ah. Right. Well. Sometimes things just happen, don't they?"
He tries to ignore the building dread in his heart. Justice used to help with that.
"Just because Grim hasn't heard anything doesn't mean there's nothing. We'll figure it out."
"There was always a risk I might get stuck here. It's all right. I'll...I guess I'll try and fit in here as best I can."
Anders rubs his hands over his face. It's beginning to feel like there's a countdown suspended over his head. He's not sure what it's ticking down to, but it's not anything good. He knows himself well enough for that.
"I just need a minute. I'll...organise the med bay. Or something."
"Thanks, Rex. I'll...I'll see you later."
He heads back through the ship, hoping he's heading to the med bay.
Perhaps he is, or perhaps someone, or something is looking out for him. He makes it to the med bay either way.