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Bela was pulled from her trans by the talking going on around her, someone asking what a LARPer was and as she looked back she noticed an unmoving person. This was relatively a small debate where she wanted to ask Anders a question; at the same time she wanted to check on Shelia...

The girl pondered over her options, however there were other people approaching Shelia, including the timid lady from earlier that stood near the cop. Perhaps they could help her better for the moment so Bela's attention quickly turned to Anders.

"So, as long as you don't mind my asking..." She paused lofting a brow curiously, "You LARPers do you consider yourself story tellers, like do you actually make up your own story as you go. Or do you pull from existing things, such as TV or Movies? Maybe even already made games?" The storyteller was curious of this and she was walking backwards to prove she wanted to find out what this was all about.

"And you're tank?" The young woman dressed as a pirate lofted her brow, "If this Hawke's your tank then what class, pray tell, are you?"

Prosper was not broken, or bleeding, or grieving the potential loss of his beloved tank. But he was suffering, and he thought that much was obvious. There was a dull ringing in his ears, which felt like they'd been stuffed with cotton. Every voice and every footstep were muffled, as though he was hearing them from a distance.

And he'd thrown his sandal at Moby d**k. It was awkward to walk, with only one shoe!

It bothered Prosper to watch as everybody fussed over each other, because nobody paused to ask him if he was alright. Apparently dislocating a shoulder was the best way to get any sort of positive attention in this place. Well.

Fine.

While not completely uninjured, but fairing well considering the circumstances, Prosper resigned himself to productivity. His was a proud heart. He would not brood listlessly, and deny his comrades the use of his hands. Things needed doing.

So he would help. And he would brood while he helped, until somebody recognized his distress and took pains to correct it. Prosper was committed to going home, and damned if he'd be the one to get in the way of that happening. He was jealous of those that Leo called to leave first, and only slightly comforted by the knowledge that the Soldier would surely not leave him in the Surrounding to rot.

But then everything went wrong.

And Prosper was mortified. His jaw fell open with a soft, shocked pop when Leo disappeared and Anders did not. His heart sank, and seemed almost to settle someplace deep within his belly. It was a dreadful weight. Prosper felt more than a little bit sick with it and was beginning to truly realize, for the first time, that he might never get to go ********. ********. ********. If only he'd thought to grab his wallet before he'd… before… what had even happened?

Nobody seemed to know. Nobody had any answers, or definite solutions. They were just guessing, and supporting each other, and offering everyone places to stay. Prosper would have liked to say 'no' and to order that Leo take him home, the same way he would have commanded his chauffeur. Except. He knew that it would be useless.

There had to be another way.

"My name is Prosper," Prosper offered up with as much pomp as he could manage, and then visibly deflated as everybody else revealed their identities and from which schools, or occupations, they hailed. He had never personally met a boy from Hillworth before, and took a mostly subtle step away from Ian. Everybody knew Hillworth was a school for dangerous boys.

Anders didn't usually receive this much attention for his hobby, but he rather enjoyed the interest. Talking was helping to distract him from the pain in his arm and hand. Any distraction was welcome, because he direly needed a trip away from the pain. "I don't mind," he assured Bela, continuing to walk forward in his unmistakably slow pace. He had to make sure he didn't fall over flat on his face. He did not want Leo or Lynn trying to pick him up and carry him to the outpost bridal style. His last bit of manly pride would not be able to withstand such a thing.

"We do all of the above, really, whatever we feel like. Hawke and I've been LARPing Dragon Age for a while now. We're getting close to the end of our current game, and were going to get through a good chunk of that tonight... but then we got stuck here in space." It made him wonder why none of his other LARPing buddies didn't get shipped off into space with them. Maybe Anders and Hawke had run into a horrible steak of bad luck.

"I'm a mage. I'm Hawke's support, in charge of healing and buffing, and sometimes blowing s**t up...

A lot of the time, actually, blowing s**t up."

After he had made sure that Harmony was taken off towards the castle, he had continued wandering that direction, staying close to Anders and the girl he was conversing with. It was a kind of interesting conversation, and LARPing sounded like it could be fun.

Perhaps once all of this was settled, he could talk to Anders more about it. Perhaps he would know of a campaign that was open for joining. He could use a new hobby, and it did sound rather fun.