avisionofhawke | Sundermount Shenanigans?

Things were going just fine right up until the revenant showed up.

Hawke had just been minding her own business, looking for reagents with Anders, Fenris and Sebastian (and wondering what had possessed her to bring that particular trio on this trip). It had been going quite well, she thought. They had found lots of elfroot, at least.

And then the revenant happened, and Hawke had pulled a rookie move. She had leapt without surreptitiously testing the ground she was going to land on first. The last she'd seen of her companions was their horrified expressions as she fell through that thrice-blighted hole.

Needless to say, she wasn't pleased with where she'd ended up.

Ten minutes out of that cavern and she already had no clue where she actually was, other than that she was still on Sundermount. She couldn't even find the cavern entrance again.

Damn it.

Damn it to the Void.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

avisionofhawke

Hawke shot him a triumphant look. Never mind that her legs were still trembling from that final crescendo - she had definitely accomplished her goal.

Slinking closer and mostly managing to hide the weakness in her knees, she reached out and took his hand. "Well, it seems I haven't lost my touch. Good to know."

From:

cattymage

"Now, shall we? I do believe we've a cave to find."

Oh, hand holding? Yeah, he can do that. Anders slides his fingers to hook against her hand, turning the gesture into playful leading, rather than intimate -- another step in this constant little dance he seemed to be acting out, where he would flirt closer then skitter back like a startled fish whenever she would reach too close.

From:

avisionofhawke

Oh, Anders and his ever-present skittishness. By now it didn't surprise her.

She wondered what he would think if he knew that it had been - would be - had been him who seduced her while trying at the same time to warn her away.

"To the cave it is, then. With luck we'll find some food on the way. I'm hungry."

From:

cattymage

"If you like your breakfast a tad Fade-Touched, I do know something of edible plants. Otherwise -- eugh, no, I don't even want to think about trying to eat giant spider. Any other wildlife that might've been up here is like to still be scared off from that sonic screech you unleashed yesterday."

From:

avisionofhawke

"Euch, perish the thought," Hawke said, grimacing, when spider for breakfast was mentioned. Her stomach turned at the thought of it. "Maybe we can wander into Kirkwall and get something - we're going to need some provisions sooner rather than later if we're going to keep this up, and I know every inch of the place much better than I wish I did. Sneaking apostates out or rooting out malicious gangs now and then does have its perks."

She remembered Ketojan, the Saarebas that she'd tried to help, and sadness flashed across her face before her usual smirk covered it.

Ketojan had called her Basvaraad, someone worth following, but in the end had refused to let her save him. Instead, he had burned himself to death, and perhaps the detail was most seared into her mind was that, though it must have been excruciating, he had never once made a sound.

Of course, it had happened and she'd never spoken of it again after things had finished. That was the way she was. But despite appearances, she did have regrets...

"Fancy a trip through Darktown so we can have a proper meal?"

From:

cattymage

Well.

Suppose it was time to actually go into bloody Kirkwall, despite how absolutely terrible a plan that truly was.

"Fancy it? Through a place named 'Darktown?' As long as the name's ironic. It is ironic, right...? Darktown's actually, ah... the town park? Filled with frolicking kittens!"

From:

avisionofhawke

"That would be nice, wouldn't it? But no, it's the poorest area of Kirkwall. It shouldn't be too terrible, though, since you've had a clinic there for a good three years now. And look at the bright side," she said with cheer she obviously wasn't feeling, "the chokedamp is down to a minimum this time of year."

It wasn't like they had a lot of choices, considering Anders was an apostate mage entering a city filled with Templars who'd gotten too big for their breeches.

From:

cattymage

_{"Because that sounds like me."}

The comment came under his breath, not a stage whisper, really -- more of a sigh of resignation that twisted around into words as it passed.

Every new fun fact Aisling offered niggled at him more. Him, staying for three years in any place on Thedas, nevermind Kirkwall? He could barely stay put without getting fidgety three months.

"Wouldn't going for the cave first be more... economical? Then we don't have to come to the weird mountain again without a very good reason, first. And if it goes to plan, we won't be having to visit any Darktowns at all."

Edited Date: 2015-03-19 03:33 pm (UTC)

From:

avisionofhawke

"You were there to help the refugees, Anders. Most of the Fereldans fleeing the Blight probably would have died if not for you."

It was meant to be comforting, though Hawke was bad at the whole being serious for five minutes thing.

"I did search for the cave, you know. It's not exactly where I left it. And anyway, I don't know about you, but I haven't eaten since early yesterday morning and Fade-touched food isn't exactly my favorite. We're going to have to go into Kirkwall sooner or later, and we can either enter through Darktown or waltz in through the front gate and wave at the Templars as we go by. Personally, I prefer Darktown."

From:

cattymage

If anything, he seemed to recede into himself that much more. Great. Expectations of altruism. He loved those. It felt like Senior Enchanter Wynne might materialize, any moment, out of the aether to bend his ear about showing more compassion.

Well, shows what she knew, huh? Apparently he had plenty of compassion. It was just that much better spent on dirt-poor dog lords than it had ever been, healing Templars and Templar messes in the tower's infirmary. When he thinks about it that way? Sounds about right to him.

"Darktown it is."

From:

avisionofhawke

With that, Hawke sighed and set off, expecting that Anders would follow.

She missed her Anders... This one was unsettling to her. Foreign speech coming from a familiar voice, the touch of a stranger coming from a body she knew each and every delightful facet of. Kisses that, despite their pleasantness, felt cool and empty.

She had no idea what to do with that.

She needed a big, warm warhound to hug...

From:

cattymage

Trotting along after as Aisling set a quick (though certainly appreciable) pace was rapidly becoming a habit, Anders noted. She seemed the type who was used to having people orbit along after her.

What a cipher she was. He could obviously see where a base attraction would come from, between the two of them - but that emotional heat, that he had only felt the reaching licks of, like a child swiping their hand quickly through a candle's flame?

He couldn't comprehend having that, let alone contributing to it, kindling it. He'd been the object of obsession before, sure - it was a risk, playing the game.

_{(Perhaps once, he'd given in, a smouldering little ember - but he'd ruined Karl for it, gotten him sent here. Never again, curse his selfish heart. But, apparently, again had - would - happen?)}

Maker, he was going to get a headache from this. Too much brooding for his comfort, and the silence between them was starting to drag on his nerves. Time to open his big, charming mouth, and let it lead him as usual, instead of staggering around at the behest of a scrunched, contemplative brow.

"Soooo," he began. "You know Kirkwall well. I've never been, only heard the stories. What's it like?"

From:

avisionofhawke

It took Aisling a second to realize she was being spoken to again. "Hmm? Oh, Kirkwall? All daisy chains and puppy dogs," she answered.

Even when caught off guard she was sarcastic.

"To be honest, it depends on who you ask. If you ask Varric, it's not so bad - anyone else who isn't nobility will tell you that it's an aboveground sewer, probably."

From:

cattymage

"Hold on. Varric, Varric, that's another familiar name..."

He does that little cluck thing he'd done earlier when recalling Isabela again; a habit, apparently, but one that he'd left off on by the time they'd met.

"..Dwarf? Blond hair - darker than mine, no beard, full chest, exquisitely memorable voice?"

Edited Date: 2015-03-19 08:58 pm (UTC)

From:

avisionofhawke

"Lies like a rug just for fun? That's him." She fell silent again, winding her way down the trail as easily as a mountain goat.

From:

cattymage

"Beginning to wonder how many of your friends I haven't slept with," he mused. "This is starting to sound like a dream all over again."

Edited Date: 2015-03-19 09:05 pm (UTC)

From:

avisionofhawke

She hummed in agreement and shrugged as she went over a mental list.

"That's it, to my knowledge, but then again..."

From:

cattymage

"Try listing them off?"

From:

avisionofhawke

"Aside from Varric and Isabela, there's Fenris, Aveline, Merrill, Sebastian, and my mabari. And of course you, though we're more than friends. There was also my sister, before the damned Templars took her."

She was glad she had her back turned right now, because she wasn't entirely certain she was comfortable enough with this Anders to let him see the look of grief she wore. It was enough that she'd kept her voice mostly even, right?

Why, Bethy...? Who had turned you in?

Could I have stopped it if I'd been there?

From:

cattymage

After the way she'd tapered off the list, his tongue actually stilled; he'd been about to say something about Sebastian being a relatively common name, so he'd need a little more to tell with that one - but...

Circle rule, number one, learned by every apprentice once they'd stopped crying themselves to sleep, once the realization well and truly set in they were stuck here and there was nothing they could do about it. That anyone else would do about it. You don't talk about family, you don't talk about before. It was cruel, digging in at scabs that everyone knew each other had.

"...I'm sorry."

The compulsory sorries didn't do anything, he'd always felt, they were just - peace offerings. 'Sorry for poking your sore spot, please don't hit mine in revenge,' more than 'sorry this horrible thing happened.' He didn't mean to be numb to it, so much as it was a consequence he'd seen in most other mages who made it for long enough, and so readily accepted it in himself. His energies were, in his opinion, far better spent getting out, getting away from all the stagnant horror and misery, rather than taking it all in and digesting it.

From:

avisionofhawke

"If I'd been there, they never would have gotten her," Hawke said quietly. Her voice hardened with conviction as she continued, "I'll never let that happen to you. I'm not losing anyone else to the Templars."

She fell silent again, and it would be easy to pretend she'd never spoken.

From:

cattymage

"Or, they'd have beaten you to a paste, maybe had the local guard put you in the pen for a bit, and have took her anyway. If they came knocking just the moment you weren't around, they're like to have been waiting to do it for a long time beforehand. Especially if they think it would be a difficult extraction. It's what they do."

His voice is mild, speaking fact - Aisling had never heard him speak about Templars with such a resignation in his voice before. Always, there was that boil just under the surface - that which made the blue light that sent up cracks in his skin, to smuggle mage after mage through cramped, dark tunnels over and again, to write into the night until his hands cramped and shook - that implicit knowledge that he would fight, that Templars bled and died like any other man or woman.

He's making sense, and her Anders had comforted her before, on Bethany being taken from her - all of them, really, because damned if her friends hadn't treasured Bethy in their own way - but it was the how made their differences ever starker.

Edited Date: 2015-03-19 11:34 pm (UTC)

From:

avisionofhawke

"I would've killed them if they tried," she replied darkly, vaulting over a boulder. "It's not like I haven't taken out squads of Templars before."

And she would've taken her sister and made a run for it. She didn't normally bully her way through things, but when it came to her sister...

"She's all I have, and she deserves better than to rot in the Gallows because she was born with a gift."

She missed the fire that burned in her Anders, the inner blaze that fueled everything from his passion to his folly. That was what was different, she realized. This Anders hadn't yet encountered whatever it was - the Wardens, maybe, or (she grudgingly admitted) even Justice - that had kindled that spark inside him.

From:

cattymage

The Gallows, infamous Circle of the City of Chains, one of the waking albträume of a mage never meant to be soothed: the Aeonar, the Gallows, the Rite of Tranquility.

At least he didn't have the Harrowing on that list anymore, personally. That would be almost too many ominious The's for one man to take.

So, Aisling's sister was still in Kirkwall, technically. Honestly - Anders had expected that this sister would have been shipped off, far and away; it was a common practice, to cut up the roots a mage might still have, setting about nearest their Circle. He wondered why they hadn't done that; there had to be a reason, because Aisling was a root remaining, a risk. A hope. The Templars liked to be economical about crushing those.

Anders picked delicately about the boulder where Hawke had launched, lagging behind. The ferocity, the conviction - terrifying. This woman is terrifying, like a foggy eye staring out at you after you lick off a chocolate shell.

Oh. Great. Now he's put himself off food before even having breakfast with that thought.

"Preaching to the choir, Aisling," he called over, as she powered ahead. "Uh, the choir you're leaving in the dust...! Aisling, wait up - damned - robes--"

There was nothing for it. There she went, powered by righteous fury. He wadded the skirts of his robes up in his free hand, enough that he could at least move his knees worth a cuss, because there was no way he was catching up without falling on his face at this rate.

Edited Date: 2015-03-20 01:23 am (UTC)

From:

avisionofhawke

It took a good minute for her to slow down. She had finally realized that mage robes were not meant for running about the slopes of a mountain.

"Sorry," she called back, "I keep forgetting you aren't wearing pants."