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    Summary

    "I can't do this much longer." Anders muttered to himself as Hawke looted bodies and Isabela made another pass at Fenris. It was all fine, he mused. No one ever took him seriously unless he was glowing.

    He wanted to stay strong, but he was just waiting to break down. He was terrified that this time he wouldn't be able to. Already, he felt nothing.

    He stopped listening. Followed the others through the paces. And he refused to even breathe from his mouth so he didn't taste the coppery air where so much blood magic had been cast. He could imagine no more snark, nothing more to add to the scenes around him.

    He was no more aware of what was around him in the bar later. Perhaps that was best. After all the torture of the day's events, Anders would not have appreciated the green eyes watching him shatter.

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