Hawke rubbed her eyes, yawning in protest of being awake. The afternoon sun filtered through the small window in the room. And the several large cracks and holes that were all, together, larger than the pitiful excuse for a window. If not for that, she almost felt like it was home. Or what passed as home for her.
Following some mental convincing and pulling on her armor, Hawke eventually made her way down to the main hall of Skyhold. Varric had, of course, insisted she meet the Inquisitor on the ramparts and generally stay out of sight, but frankly Hawke was sick of hiding. With a yawn and a stretch, she sauntered into the quiet hall.
A man sat at the end of one of the long banquet tables still spread with remnants of lunch. Or some afternoon something, she supposed. Hawke picked up an apple as she sauntered by, eventually plopping herself down in a seat near her only other company. He had long ruddy brown hair pulled back in a lazy bun. He studied her from behind weary, pale eyes. A welcoming smile, however, lingered on his lips.
"They working you too hard?" she asked.
He chuckled awkwardly behind his hand, attempting to swallow the bite of food she'd timed her question to. Hawke smirked. Many a time had she driven Bethany and Carver up the wall doing the very same thing. She liked to think she was an expert.
"Something like that," he finally managed.
Hawke kicked her feet up to an empty place on the table and crossed her legs at the ankle. She leaned back, biting into her apple with a satisfying crunch.
"Comes a point," she started, not even bothering to worry about whether or not she was embarrassing herself. Let it never be said Ashley Hawke was a proper woman. "You just gotta tell them 'no' and maybe 'fuck off' if that doesn't work." She swallowed and shrugged as she tipped her head to look over at him. "World's ending, sure, but if you don't stop and breathe, that shit will swallow you whole."
He frowned at her in confusion. "Uh, right."
"Hey, you haven't seen the Seeker around by chance, have you?"
He gave her an inquisitive look, but shook his head. "Not since this morning on the practice field."
Hawke nodded. "Just as well I guess."
Silence settled then, her eyes flicking around various spots around the hall. A cool breeze wafted through the open doors, ruffling her haphazard hairstyle.
"I forgot how much I missed the food in Ferelden."
The man offered her a quizzical look. "I'm sorry?"
"The food! Even produce tastes better here. Or it's less over… fancified." She waved her hand around a bit, then shrugged.
He pursed his lips. "Fancified?" he echoed.
"You know, hand washed two dozen times, shined and practically painted to look pretty? Or cooked like every meal must be perfect because it could be your last? Ugh." She waved the now half eaten apple at him. "This, this right here is better than the last meal I had in Starkhaven."
"You're from Starkhaven? You don't sound it…"
Hawke shrugged. "Yes and no?" Varric's voice muttered at her in the back of her mind to take care of what she mentioned. She swallowed a large bite of apple. "I was born in Ferelden, I've been living in Starkhaven for the last little while. Was there before here. So… yes, I guess?"
He nodded slowly, but it was evident in his gaze that something wasn't clicking right into place in his brain.
Finishing her apple, Hawke pulled her legs off the table and stood. Dropping the core on a nearby plate, she patted her company on the shoulder and started toward the main doors.
"Been nice chatting, but I think it's time I go find that darling 'Commander of the Inquisition forces'," she said with a dramatic giggle.