The first two days, Carver refused to even utter monosyllabic words. Nor any sound in particular, not even a heavy sigh. All the words died on his tongue, swept away in the simmering anger and frustration that lingered just below the surface. Hidden away by his silence.
By the third night, he found himself inhaling the putrid stink of the Hanged Man. Able to form enough of a sentence to order the piss-for-ale from Corff. Isabela tried, and failed, to cheer him up. Not even her usual jokes able to rouse Carver from his stupor. Why bother? What's the point? he thought to himself, waving the pirate off for the fourth time that night. Words hurt when there was no one to listen. No one that actually cared.
A week in and Carver had graduated to grunts and simple yes or no answers when Leandra or Gamlen attempted to communicate with him. The anger he felt had fizzled out by the fourth night, but a bitter taste still lingered in his mouth. Caught in his throat and wearing a hole in his heart.
"Why don't you take Dane for a walk. The air will be good for you both," Mother insisted. A weak nod, a broken sigh and Carver was soon out the door with their mabari in tow.
Two weeks and no word from the expedition. Worry began to settle in his thoughts, taking over where frustration had once lingered. It sat on top of the pain, a pain that threatened to break the surface at any moment. He needed to do something. Anything to take away this feeling of uselessness. The constant and pressing thought that he'd be the last Hawke. That he'd have nothing to show for it, for himself, when the time came.
"I'm going to join the Templars." He said that night at the bar, looking down the bar at Isabela - a set and impassioned determination in his gaze. The longest string of words anyone had heard from Carver since the expedition had left Kirkwall. Isabela had merely smiled, patting his arm and sharing her love of "a man in uniform."
Two mornings later, the expedition returned from the Deep Roads. Carver breathed a sigh of relief. It felt like the first breath he'd taken since his sister had disappeared two weeks earlier into the throng of people in the Hightown market.
He embraced her, struggling to even consider letting go again.
"It's too quiet without you here, sister."