The sun still had yet to rise as Hawke made her way home from the Hanged Man. Stumbling up the stairs, the drunk redhead cursed and bend to rub her stubbed toes. It took a moment to seriously focus, but she could've sworn someone had stolen her boots. She reached the top and began wobbling down Hightown's empty square. The lightheadedness had passed hours ago, amongst singing songs with Varric and other patrons. She got felt up, if she remembered correctly, so a brawl had sprung out. Some people got stabbed, but they'd be okay, she hoped. Now all Hawke was left with was an empty pocket; to pay for healing bills and a few rounds of drinks on her, a busted lip, a few bruised ribs, the buttons snapped on her once blood-free blouse, and no shoes. Lovely night, to say the least. As long as she made it home with her trousers and her daggers, she was happy. At least until she heard a familiar rustle from the darkness around her. And things had been going so well, too.
"I c'n hear you, y'blasted nug-humpers..." Hawke grumbled to the darkness of the seemingly empty street corner. Nothing. "T'ch. I can smell you too. Didn't your bitchwhore mums tell you to wash your arse every morning?" irritation got the better of her. One arm was sore, so she used her free one to tug one of her daggers loose, the glimmering jagged edge immaculate despite her overall rumpled state. At her silent threat, the rustle came back, along with the stench of sulfur. Snarling, Hawke whirled around to catch a man by the throat just as he appeared in a burst of smoke. Her blade sliced through him with a grotesque noise, prompting five more to emerge from similar bursts around her. Despite her mental state, Hawke handled them with ease. Jagged blade blocking one, two strike attempts, pivoting to kick the crotch of one creeping up behind her. She rammed her shoulder into one man, bringing her blade down with a shout at the at the second, when his swing missed.
Not missing a beat, she changed the angle on her grip and thrust the blade behind her, catching another raider in the gut. He went down, as the man she shoved recovered and lunged. Their blades met and held, the jagged edges on her own matching it easy to yank his out of his grip. That hadn't seemed to stop him, and he caught Hawke by surprise by gripping her wrist, keeping her from striking.
Grunting, off balance, Hawke fought to get her arm free, only to cry out in pain as a solid mass of energy hit her side. Pushed into the man holding her, they both went down. Hawke bit through the pain of an unexpected mage attack and straddled the man now under her. Arm free, she could now force it down against his throat, silencing his pained curses. Rather than give the lone mage another cheap shot, Hawke brought her sore arm down to retrieve a small knife from her ankle. Barely looking, she flung it backward, scoring. Impaled in the dead center of his forehead, the mage fell, leaving the street relatively silent again. The man she'd scored in the crotch was the one raider still able to draw breath, but had yet to recover from her cheap shot. She must've kneed him harder than she thought.
But as Hawke turned to silence the poor sod's pained grunts, she paused at what she saw. At some point during the brief battle, someone had joined her. Crouching on the man's neck, Isabela's quick hands rifled through his pockets and relieved him of anything remotely valuable. Hawke could only stare, bemused, as she examined his unused blade with an uncharacteristically hard scowl. Even her posture was off; the usually relaxed and battle-happy woman kneeling stiffly, tossing the useless weapon aside and raising her to her feet. Not before using her knee to snap the man's neck and silence him for good. Sliding the pilfered silvers into her own pouch, Isabela let her gaze lift to Hawke, still sitting on the bloodied ground. When they only stared at each other, Hawke spoke up, clearing her throat.
"Ah, hey Isabela. Nice Job." She smiled weakly, deciding not to comment on her odd behavior. Even the way she killed him seemed wrong. Clean, quick. So unlike the pirate. When Isabela still hadn't moved, Hawke decided something was wrong. Pushing to her feet, she approached the tense captain, stopping when Isabela visibly flinched back.
"What's wrong?" Hawke whispered, suddenly afraid. Isabela was acting too strange. A mixture of anger and, if she wasn't mistaken, fear. As she reached out, Isabela's quick hand shot out and snagged her wrist. Holding on tight, fingers trembling. What the hell?
"Don't go." The noticeably shaken pirate whispered, jaw tight.
"Isabela...?"
"Promise me, Hawke!" her grip tightened, expression hardening, "Don't do looking for him!"
As realization dawned, Hawke blinked rapidly.
"You don't want me...to find Anders?" She questioned, voice low. It was easy to see Isabela's fury now. Rage barely tethered y the grip on Hawke's wrist. "Why not?" Isabela had never loved the mage, but she hadn't seemed to hate him either. What was this sudden change?
"He's dangerous, Hawke. And before you call foul, I know we're all just a bit dangerous. But hun...he's a whole knew level. He'll get you killed. Hell, he almost did! In more ways than one." She shook her head, obviously disgusted. When Hawke winced, she finally let go. Because it was clear Isabela needed to get it off her chest, Hawke didn't interrupt.
"What he did wasn't just bad, it was horrible. Even I wouldn't kill an innocent, and he killed dozens. Nothing justifies what he did." her anger boiled, teeth gritting in a snarl, "And when he left, you... You broke down. I saw it, Varric saw it, Shit even Aveline saw it."
"I didn't!"
"You became a sniveling, sobbing, disgustingly depressed, sorry excuse for a woman. Ignore it all you want, but he broke your heart. And I'll never forgive him for that." She pushed all of her rage out on that last growled comment, so full of malice that Hawke shuddered.
Finished, the tension melted from her stance, expression sulky. Silence surrounded them, standing in front of Hawke's estate, the nearby torch casting shadows over their faces. It took a while before Hawke's voice returned.
"Isabela..." she hesitated when the pirate's sharp gaze cut into her. The sweet woman. She was worried. "I'm a big girl, I can handle myself." Hawke smiled weakly, trying to lighten the mood. Isabela visibly relaxed, but her frowned remained in place.
"Oh right, like how you handled yourself earlier? A mere thought of him and you're already creaming yourself. Maker's balls, you're still stuck on him, after all he's done. Don't do this, Hawke. He'll use you, again. He'll hurt you, again. And we'll have to come pick up the pieces of your poor, shattered, girly little feelings, again." She sneered, obtaining a pout from Hawke. It hadn't been that bad, had it?
"You don't get it. I have to, 'Bela. Not because of how I fee—felt. This isn't some quest for love. I have to confront him. I have to know why...' She felt her anger spike, pausing to give it a chance to sober. Isabela looked skeptical.
"Really?" she asked. Hawke sighed.
"Yes. Shit, I was planning on giving him a swift kick in the ass. I'm mad too, you know..." She chuckled bitterly. And the faintest smile crossed Isabela's lips. Finally, things seemed to have calmed, as the pirate captain sighed and looped an arm around Hawke's shoulders, leading her off towards the estate's door.
"Just a kick, huh?" She chuckled, "If you really want to leave an impression, I can give you some tips. C'mon, we could both use a few more drinks." Hawke smirked, arm wrapping around her companions curvy waist.
"Right, you left way too quickly. Seneschal came,completely ruined a good drunken stupor. You should've seen how angry he was." she sighed, pushing her door open. Isabela chuckled again, expression sly.
"See him? I'm the one who told him where you were!" She cackled, mingling with Hawke's groan.
"Damnit Isabela..." She trailed off as they disappeared inside Hawke's estate.
