Hello all of you who cared to click the link. :) Once again I am trying to attempt a half-assed fanfic writing, because Dragon Age 2 made me do so. This will be just a compilation of short stories and drabbles(sometimes very short, lol, sometimes not) that are not really connected to each other and are born either of a quote/situation seen in a game or out of my own shenenigans. I do not use beta and I am not a native English speaker, so I apologise for some weird stuff you might see in my writing from time to time. Hopefully it is not too much. So far all the ideas I had are mostly about Anders (fangirl is a fangirl, after all) but since it will be just small one shots, it will probably include many other characters seen in the game as well. If you want to prompt me on something, go ahead, I will try my best to fulfill your request, if I can. :)

Other then that... Hope you enjoy my questionable writing and thanks for taking your time. If you have something to say - don't be shy. Constructive critisism or just fangasms about characters... I welcome all, lol.

Cheery-o,

AngelT

Of Justice and Cats

It was a late evening when Hawke quietly knocked on the door of Anders' clinic in Darktown. The main entrance was closed for the night but the service one, which led to the improvised quarters that the mage had made his home, was still available to those who had urgent business. Or perhaps were just longing for a company.

Hawke was the latter case. The estate was big and had so few people living in it, that it always seemed she was all alone. Even more so now that the dog, affectionately named Crapbag by Carver many years ago, was away with Aveline in the barracks, greatly enjoying himself.

There was no reply and so she just entered, hoping that Anders won't zap her arse into the Void, mistaking her for a Templar. She found herself in the small room, divided from the main 'hospital' by a rather dirty curtain with quite a disgusting flower pattern. Hawke preferred to think that the pattern choice was not voluntary. Sadly, the curtain was the only thing that could somehow tell someone who Anders was.

That is if he really picked that abysmal thing all by himself, Hawke had to remind herself.

The living space felt bare and uninhabited. A bed and a small chest where Anders kept his things. No trinkets, pictures… Nothing. Anders talked sometimes about his life before Kirkwall. Those were just sentences dropped here and there but it was giving a clear picture that he liked some baggage. That's why the room felt so gloomy. It was as if another person lived here. And in a way it was.

Hawke waved the thoughts away. She came here to spend some casual time with a friend, not to dwell on any serious matters. Problems were always there but if one wants to keep his sanity, he should let them go once in a while.

She found Anders in the main room, crouching on one knee. He had his back turned to her and thus she could not see what the mage was doing.

"Am I interrupting something utterly important?"

"Maker's breath!" he yelped and jumped up. There was a small plate on the dirty wooden floor and it was filled with while liquid. Hawke had several guesses, some of them downright dirty, some creepy. The small glass bottle in Anders' hand has 'Milk' scribbled on it with a coal and so she swallowed her picks and smiled shyly.

"Milk? That is your idea to end the hunger?"

"It's for cats. I never see much of them in Darktown. Perhaps Kirkwall is more of a dog-city." He paused and eyed a bottle in his hands and then finished with the grave voice. "Or refugees like them warm and toasty."

Hawke settled down on one of the many handmade stretchers that were standing along the walls.

"Oh? So you like cats."

"Yes. Even used to have one, his name was Ser Pounce-A-Lot. I think I've mentioned him once but you did not bother to ask."

"That must have been when we just met you. I was quite overwhelmed to just start questioning you about your pet preferences."

"Fair remark."

Anders joined Hawke on the stretcher and they eyed quietly the milk bowl. She shimmied a bit closer to him. They were still just friends, but as of recent Hawke had some complicated thoughts regarding their friendship status but she was not ready to talk about it. If Anders did notice she changed position, he did not say anything but did not move away either.

"So… Ser Pounce-A-Lot. What a name! Care to share?" she asked in a carefree voice.

"It was a gift. From The Hero of Ferelden himself. Cute red tabby with quite a personality on him. I took him everywhere… Till Grey Wardens decided it was way too immature and forced me to give him away. Justice was quite happy that day."

Hawke raised one eyebrow.

"Seems like Grey Wardens were not the only ones that disliked him."

Anders nodded and smiled sadly. It was quite strange to see him talking about his past and Hawke gave him reassuring nod, scared that the moment of peace will pass or the mage will get skittish and stop talking.

"Thing with Justice… He is… Was a spirit. Cats don't like creatures from the Fade and it seems to be mutual. Back when we just met, Justice on many occasions had expressed his dissatisfaction with my cat." He rubbed his temples and frowned a bit. "And after we merged, Ser Pounce-A-Lot had trouble showing me same kind of affection he used to. But I am being a bit too dramatic. I've returned him back to the Hero, no Wardens can tell him, to get rid of my cat. And Ser can play with Barkspawn, that dog is great."

"Barkspawn?"Laughed Hawke loudly. "Brilliant!" The name was hilarious. For a second she thought maybe Crapbag could use a name change. Carver was not here anymore and she was the one who had to endure curious (and on many occasions offended) stares from the people when she was taking her pet for a walk.

The sudden meowing sound made them both silent and they looked in the direction of the main entrance. Only now Hawke noticed, that Anders had tinkered with the door a bit and made a small hole at the bottom, covered with a piece of brown fabric. He took his cat-feeding business quite seriously.

Right now the fabric was pulled aside and a small muzzle of a tortoiseshell cat was poking through. The creature was scared but the heavenly smell of milk made it pull together whatever bravery it had and slowly crawl into the unknown.

Hawke checked on Anders from the corner of her eyes just to see the man stopped breathing and was glaring at the small kitten with the eyes full of love. The kind you have for your pet, that is. It makes you want to cuddle them when they don't want and clean their litter box once in a while.

Kitten started drinking and that's when everything went to the dogs. Hawke moved slightly, her hand fell asleep and she could not endure the feeling any longer. The kitten raised its head, milk still dripping from its whiskers and hissed, while slowly backing up and trembling in fear. There was also a quite significant puddle on a floor. And it was not milk.

Anders jumped up and Hawke noticed a bit too late that his eyes were glowing bright and the first blue patterns were slowly crawling up his neck onto his face.

"You insolent bag of fleas! How dare you bring filth to this place!" he boomed and before Hawke even managed to squeeze anything in he shot a pure ball of energy in animal's direction. The cat yelled and stormed out, tip of his tail smoking slightly.

"No! Come back! I am so sorry!" The light in Anders' eyes was gone and he desperately dashed after the cat.

Hawke did not know if she should laugh or cry, so she did the only thing that seemed reasonable right now: the flower-patterned curtain would finally fulfill its destiny as the only thing that could soak the cat pee. She ripped a good chunk of it and pulled sleeves up. After she was done with sanitary tasks, she carefully picked up the dish with milk and put it outside: something was telling her the cats of Darktown will not visit this place for a while.