"...Sure."

"You about ready to look at some maps?" Circe asks, standing from the table and stretching. Her outfit is very form fitting.

Anders notices.

"Yeah, that would actually be very helpful."

"C'mon then," she says, and doesn't wait to see if he's following.

Anders gets up to follow her, and promptly bangs his head. "Ow...very dashing," he mutters, already healing the small bruise as he hurries to catch up with Circe.

She has paused, briefly, just outside the door, and then resumes her pace. She walks quickly, and navigates the ship easily. All the walls are flat, dull metal, with no immediate identifying marks.

The room she leads him to seems, at first glance, to be mostly empty, apart from an orb hanging from the ceiling.

An entirely metal ship, and apparently not made by dwarves. It’s...truly incredible. Anders doesn’t worry about hiding his wonder. 

Once they’re in the room, he squints at the orb. “Magic?” He asks, not sure if he’s ever heard of soemthing like this. 

"You could call it that," Circe agrees mildly, reaching up to tap the orb.

It clicks rapidly, and then spins, it's surface peeling open to reveal light sources. The room around them fills with images, a map that fills the entire room. There's very little in the way of landmass, and definitely nothing familiar.

"We're here," Circe points to a small dot in the centre of an ocean.

“Maker!” Anders exclaims, and shifts weirdly like he’s trying to get out of the way of the images. Once it’s clear they’re...shining? Onto the walls, he spins trying to find anything that looks like home. 

He sees Circe’s point, and confusion mounts, as well as another round of panic. “How in the bloody void did I get here?” Anders mutters, mostly to himself. His hands have started to shake, so he tucks them behind his back. 

"Have to say that's the number one question," Circe agrees. "We haven't had so much as ping contact with any other vessel in days, and yet. You appear in the middle of the Silent Ocean with no way of you getting there."

That just puzzles Anders further. “No way of getting here, no land in sight,” he says, looking around at the maps again, an almost desperate look to his eyes. He wonders what Hawke thinks happened. 

“Must’ve been a...Fade rift, or something. Though I’ve never heard of one portalling you to somewhere that isn’t the Fade.” The thought is squashed as easily as it comes up. “And this is definitely not the Fade, or...”

He hasn’t heard a thing from Justice, no thrumming in his skin or thoughts that don’t feel like his. Had his spirit friend gotten free when he popped into being here?

"And you keep using words that mean nothing here like they should mean something. 'Mage', 'the Fade'. I've travelled a lot of this world, and these aren't things I've come across."

“Well, for all I know my entire life could be a concussion dream and I’m talking nonsense. Especially if- things can’t really be this different if this is the same world.” 

"You're either lost beyond all my ability to discern." Pause, and when did Circe produce that knife? Where did she produce it from? But it is now being spun around her fingers. "Or an incredibly clever spy."

Anders snorts derisively, but keeps an eye on that knife. “Right. What a brilliant spy I am, getting punctured by your vessel and then raving about things none of you have any idea about.”

"Exactly. Who's going to believe the madman is a spy."

“Just out of curiousity, why am I spying on you?”

Circe laughs. "I'm not going to just give away my secrets."

“And I have no reason to try and get you to! Unless you’re the person who brought me here. Which I doubt.”

"If I was, we'd all have less questions." She leans back against the wall, her hair shimmering and changing colour again. "Which still doesn't tell me what I should do with you now."

“It would seem I am at your disposal. You could keep me on the boat, I’ll try and make myself useful and find a way home, or you could kill me. That way you’ll know there’s no chance I’m a spy.”

There. That proves it. Justice is not here with him. He’d never allow Anders to put himself in harm’s way like that. He feels somewhat lost without his spirit lodger now.

Circe stares at him, unnervingly intent. "My crew have soft hearts. And Tana's taken a liking to you. Rex says you smell genuine. If a little lost. I'm inclined to believe your story for now."

“Well, who wouldn’t believe a raving, sopping wet, skewered man?”

"You should count your blessings. The Lord Protector's people would've been far less forgiving than I am."

“Well. I’ve found people with titles like that aren’t generally people you want to be around. What’s his deal?”

Anders laughs slightly. “Oh, I don’t know. I could stand a little less mercy.”