The jobs she occasionally ran with Hawke's crew were better-paying than the ones she could handle on her own, and the fact that she was running in a group made the work go much faster. Echo meant that in a literal sense: she could only kill so many bandits in a day on her own. But the murder crew rolled up generally four strong (with two Hawkes, Echo, and either Aveline or Varric filling out the last slot) and cut through interlopers with piteous ease.

It was quite nice, actually. The only bizarre thing was that it never seemed to make a dent in the carta or various gangs in the city.

'Poverty breeds desperation,' Echo reminded herself solemnly one night after a long day out. Her muscles were aching—and wasn't that an odd thing to say? She was getting used to having a body and working around its limitations.

Working as a rogue was a lot harder on her body than using magic. With magic, she could just stand still and rain hell on whatever unfortunate happened to be on her shit list for the day.

On the other hand, working as a rogue wouldn't get her hauled ass over heels to the Circle. That seemed like a particularly undignified way to go.

If anyone asked, that was why she was sitting in her bedroom rubbing a cream scented with sweet grass into her skin. She paid careful attention to her legs and feet. Not only did they ache after hours of running about, the constant rub of her light armor left her skin dry and painful if she didn't care for it properly. Elves were terribly delicate, as far as she could tell. Nothing like Shale.

Of course it smelled nice, and made her skin wonderfully soft, but those things were beside the point. She was a serious lady with serious lady business.

A shout drew her out of her self-justifications, and she sat up on her bed and looked around. No immediate danger stuck out to her, so she got up and put her shoes back on. The other elves might not wear them, but Echo really hated getting blood under her toenails. Once was enough.

She'd just begun to think that it was a trick of her mind, or a one-off, but the clanging of metal on metal rung through the air and hurt her sensitive ears.

'This is my fucking night off!'

Echo grabbed her knives from Marethari (whose handles were made to channel magic, thank you very much Master Ilen, you beautiful bastard) and stomped out the door, prepared to send human bigots packing. She kicked her dustpan out the door as she went. That made the inevitable cleanup much easier. She had a system going.

What she saw was a surprise, however.

"Hawke, what the hell?" She smacked her friend in the head, and stabbed the man she was fighting with in the gut. He groaned, and slid off the long knife blade into the dirt. "It's too late for this shit. Go home!"

"Hi, Echo!" Hawke greeted pleasantly, if sounding somewhat winded.

"Daisy!" She heard Varric call. He was generally in the best tactical position, so she wasted no time in weaving over to his side to watch his back. She had to cut down a couple of chumps before she got to him, but they had had their backs turned to her and were of little consequence. He smiled genially at her, and she found herself grinning in return.

"We were supposed to do a quick pick-up down here, so we didn't think to call you." He confided. "I didn't even know we were coming into the Alienage until we met with the contact, and by the time we got here, a large amount of slavers were shouting and lobbing spells at us. Sorry for the wake-up call, Daisy."

"Slavers." Her voice sounded dangerous and flat even to her own ears. Varric gave her a consoling look.

"At least you don't have to feel bad about killing them?" He offered, shooting off another bolt into a slaver's chest. He staggered back as a bloodstain bloomed on his clothes, and held his hands to his chest. As if that would somehow stop the bleeding or lessen the severity of a mortal wound.

She tightened her grip on her knives, and used the handle to thump a slaver stupid enough to try to come up from behind her. "I suppose not." Echo said evenly. "But I'm going to need one alive. I want to know how in hell they all got in here."

Varric whistled lowly, loading another bolt into his crossbow with a mechanical sounding 'thuk'. "I don't envy whichever one you catch, Daisy."

The group of slavers that had been advancing towards them were suddenly giving her wary looks as she scanned for her first target. She grinned ferally back at them, and was gratified to see at least one of them flinch.

'That one'll do.'

She leapt (like a lion after sickly gazelle, her mind supplied), and dropped quickly, reaching around and slicing the backs of his knees. He fell like a puppet with cut strings onto the dirt. She jumped up quickly, and gave a kick to his ribs that made at least one of them crack.

She'd meant to keep him alive, but she'd probably kicked too hard for that. Oh well. There were more.

Another drop to her knees avoided a particularly nasty ice spear spell, and she barreled through to the offending mage. When she could see the whites of his eyes, he gulped audibly. It didn't stop her from jumping into him, propelling him into the wall behind. When his back hit the stone with a 'thud', she took advantage of his disorientation to slide one of her knives up into his heart between the ribs. He gurgled, before sliding down a bit against the wall.

"Don't you know it's rude to make this much noise at night?" She near-shouted, as she ran back at the group of terrified men. "People live here, you know!"

"Elves aren't really people." Grunted a man that Echo would be killing with extreme prejudice.

… "Tevinter shit-eating scum!" she shrieked, both knives above her head. "Fetid sack of weasels! I'm going to rip off your head and tinkle in your skull!"

Bizarrely, she heard Hawke give a choked laugh, even as the asshole she was running at apparently learned to fear. He brought his two-handed sword down just a little too slowly. She twisted out of the way and aimed for the kidney. See if he liked pissing blood for the last two minutes of his worthless life.

He apparently did not like that at all, judging by the confused gasps and the way that he kept moving his mouth up and down like a demented puppet.

She was already moving on to the next one. Who apparently happened to be the last one standing. Aveline lurched for him, but Echo cut her off with a shout and stalked forward.

"You." She pointed to the man holding his crappy sword like a life-line. "I'm going to make you eat your own fingers. And then compliment me on my excellent cooking."

He tried to run.

So she cut out the tendons behind his knees and sheathed knives.

"Don't you think that was a little-"

"No," Echo said bluntly, turning to glance at Hawke. "They're slavers. Besides, now I have to take another bath. Which you will be drawing for me, by the way. And I'm running out of sweet grass lotion."

"I've got your back, Daisy," Varric chuckled.

She blinked at him prettily, dropping the bad temper. "Oh, you're so kind. Thank you, Varric."

This was apparently the last straw for a man back near the entrance to the Alienage. She turned at a baritone laugh that washed over the area like a hot summer breeze. Strangely, the sound turned her cheeks hot. Seeing the interloper didn't help much: he was a tall, handsome elf with the kinkiest armor she'd ever seen. He tried to look graceful, but his chest was still heaving from laughing. So he settled for chucking the slaver he'd drug down the steps into a wall, and drew a large sword.

"Your men are dead." He stated clearly, pressing the blade lightly into the man's neck. A small, but steady line of blood began to drip down and stain the man's clothes.

Echo noted two things about the situation rather distantly. One, that kind of control with a sword that large was very impressive.

The second was that the bloodstain on the man's shirt was probably the least of his problems.

"Go tell your master he has failed." He twisted the sword a little bit, probably cutting a small chunk of the man's skin from his neck. Even if he lived, that would be an interesting looking scar. "I will not be captured today."

The man very carefully did not nod until the sword was removed from his flesh. Then he scarpered off into the night, holding his neck with his hand.

She watched him flee with detached resentment. Echo didn't like loose ends. Particularly not ones that knew ways into her home.

Her new favorite piece of eye candy turned to meet the group. His eyes lingered on her a moment before resting on Hawke.

'Why does everyone think she's the one in charge?' Echo puzzled. 'Varric's really the one that runs everything.'

Hawke was certainly a natural leader, though. Effortless grace, and a confidence that could shake worlds. She was at least the most conventional choice.

Besides, Echo suspected that Varric like being a bit behind the scenes, much like she did. It was probably why they both worked as rogues. Let people like Hawke and Aveline have all the glory. They'd prefer to have their peace of mind.

"I had asked Anso for help, but I did not think Anso would find me anyone so... capable." He said somewhat hesitantly, before reaching down to comb what was probably the orchestrator of the attack for something. He found something that Echo couldn't see, and his eyes hardened.

"If I may ask, what was in the house?" He jerked his head in the direction of a home Echo knew to be unoccupied. She resolved to start doing checks on abandoned homes. Slaver scum should never be able to set up camp in her Alienage.

"Nothing." Hawke answered in a voice Echo could only describe as 'soothing'. "There was nothing there." Butter wouldn't have melted in her mouth. Echo smelled a recruitment pitch coming.

He looked so devastated that Echo's heart broke for him a little. She wasn't normally this much of a chump, but he was really pretty with his white (almost silvery, like starlight) and the glowing vallaslin on his skin. He didn't look real.

"I suppose it was too much to hope for." His voice cracked a little, but everyone stalwartly ignored it. "I do have one more favor I would ask you, if I could. It appears that my former master has accompanied them to the city. I would like to confront him before he has the chance to flee."

'Probably shouldn't have let a guy go to warn him, then, yes?' Echo thought, then berated herself. He was obviously emotionally compromised anyway. It wouldn't help, and he probably wasn't thinking clearly.

Hawke shifted an evaluating gaze over the group. No one seemed to be more like a little scraped up or winded, and Bethany was just shifting aimlessly in the dirt.

'Poor Bethany, she probably just wanted out of the house. Varric did say they thought this wouldn't be dangerous.' Echo went up to Bethany and nudged her hand with one of her own. Bethany smiled tightly, but wrapped slender fingers between Echo's and squeezed.

"Tough night out?" Echo whispered, as Hawke and the handsome man talked.

"We just thought it would be a pick-up for some illegal goods." Bethany shrugged hopelessly.

Echo stared. "Sounds… reasonable." No, it didn't. Bethany must have been really desperate to escape her mother's coddling. Leandra had apparently grown ridiculously overprotective after fleeing the Blight, and it was chafing at all of them. Bethany just had the bad luck of being their baby mage, and no one wanted her out of the house for fear the Templars would swoop like hungry wyverns.

She shook her head. 'I need to get out of here.'

Before she managed to slink away into the night, Varric's eyes landed on her. She could see the moment that he put together what was going on in her head.

Echo took a step back, but he cocked a brow. She knew she was defeated before he even opened his mouth.

"Say, Daisy, why don't you come with us? You're already ready to go."

She glared a little bit, but Bethany's hand tightened around hers. The tip of a finger started making little circles on her back of her hand.

This was bad.

"And you'll get to kill more slavers." Varric wheedled, even though they both knew she was already stuck.

"What about my super-important interrogation?" She jabbed a finger at the man on the ground. He'd obviously been hoping she'd forget, and had been trying to wriggle like a caterpillar into a dark corner.

Varric shrugged. "We'll tie him up and put him somewhere safe. He'll keep until morning, at least."

Carver snorted. "Like leftover pie," he noted in an undertone. The slaver halted when the Hawke boy put a foot on his back.

Bethany shot him a mischievous look, and asked, "What would you know about leftover pie? You've never done such a thing."

He colored. "Are you accusing me of gluttony, fair sister?"

Echo deflated with a sigh, knowing she was beaten.

At least Bethany was just as unhappy about this as she was. Echo turned to her, instead of her other traitorous friends.

Ooh, and Bethany smelled nice. Like flowers. Mages rarely got covered in blood, so it wasn't surprising that she smelled nicer than Echo.

"To Hightown, then." Hawke announced, after negotiations were finished. "We're going to help Fenris find and kill a Tevinter Magister."

"Peachy." Bethany grumbled, and Echo bumped her lightly with her hip. She got a small smile for her trouble.

The trek to Hightown was fast-paced and grueling. Echo bounded along happily, aided by her longer legs and thin bone structure. Other people weren't so lucky, however.

"No one told me we would be running." Bethany panted, once they were finally outside the mansion Fenris had indicated. Being stuck inside really wasn't good for her fitness. She'd barely managed to run for a few minutes at a time. Echo wriggled her nose and avoided saying so. It would be rude, and it wouldn't help anything anyway.

And it wasn't her place to say anything in someone else's family matters, no matter how stupid she thought it was. The Hawkes as a whole were incredibly protective of Bethany. The poor girl rarely got to leave the house, and only then if she'd resorted to emotional blackmail.

"Let's just go inside." She suggested. "We don't want to waste any time."

Hawke nodded curtly, and Fenris kicked down the door.

'Don't know if that was really necessary, but it certainly did provide some atmosphere.' She judged, hand on Bethany's heaving shoulder. "Let's go, pretty lady. We have butts to kick."

This fight was much easier, at least. Fenris and Carver swung their gigantic swords in circles, while Aveline bashed and hacked with her sword and shield. The rest of them just hit the stragglers, while Bethany cast healing spells on anyone that managed to get nicked.

It was less than an hour before they reached the master chambers, and Fenris was decidedly restless.

"Why hasn't he come out to fight us?" He groused to no one in particular, prowling from room to room like a madman. But there was no one there, unless you counted shades and minor demons. There were buttloads of those. They didn't really offer a challenge to a group that overpowered, though. With three warriors, a rogue, two mages, and Echo, she didn't think much short of the darkspawn horde would give them pause.

Fenris was understandably upset, and fled the mansion as soon as they confirmed that no Magisters were lurking in the area.

"Poor man." Echo said sympathetically, as Bethany confusedly watched the door through which Fenris had escaped. "He probably just needs some space."

"I bet." Carver whistled lowly, wiping his sword on a relatively clean drape before sheathing it. "How long did he say he'd been running from this scum?"

"Long enough." Hawke answered, silencing all further discussion on the matter. "Let's get going, then. I'm sure everyone's just as sore and tired as I am."

"Whiskey at the Hanged Man?" Varric suggested, and Bethany perked up. She'd rarely been able to attend that, either.

Echo stepped up before Hawke got the chance to shoot him down. "Yes, let's." She sent Varric a conspiratorial smile. "Bethany said she was pretty thirsty, I recall."

Bethany nodded quickly. "Absolutely parched, Catherine. I might collapse without something to drink."

Hawke seemed to know she'd been beaten, and Echo relished the feeling of doing that to someone else for once. They'd drug her out here, after all. Hawke owed her.

"Don't forget." She teased, poking Hawke in the side as they walked out of the mansion. "You have to draw me a bath. You're going to be up for a while."

Hawke groaned audibly, and kicked a few of the vines that clung to the outside walls of the mansion.

"That was unnecessary, Hawke." Varric said jovially. "It isn't like those vines are the ones that woke fair Princess Daisy from her beauty sleep."

A growl was his only response, because they all noticed that Fenris was leaning up against a wall down the street.

"I see you harbor vipers in your midst." He said without looking at the group entirely. "You would do well to cut them out."

"What are you talking about?" Hawke asked, exasperated. Fenris rose and stalked towards them, eyeing Hawke and Bethany.

"I saw you two casting magic in there, do not deny it." He rasped.

Bethany's shoulders slumped. "Oh, is that all?" Hawke asked breezily. "No. I don't deny it. I also recall it distinctly being none of your business."

Fenris didn't seem reassured, strangely enough.

He affixed Echo and Varric with big green eyes. 'It's too bad he's kind of a jerk.' Echo thought morosely. 'He really is pretty.'

"You should watch out for them." He said darkly. "Mages cannot be trusted."

Carver took a confrontational step forward, and made a move to unsheathe his sword. Hawke just shook her head, and he relaxed slightly.

"Those are my sisters." Carver bit out. "Take care that you do not insult them."

Fenris just looked confused. "I meant no insult."

The Tevinters evidently weren't clear on manners and conversational etiquette. Echo just listed this as another reason that she'd like to bury them under ten feet of dirt, directly under "slaver assbags", and "terrible fashion sense".

Varric's lips pursed in amusement, and raised a silent eyebrow in her direction. She waggled her eyebrows a little bit, knowing Fenris couldn't see her from behind Carver. The boy was a very good meat shield. It was one of his best features.

Aveline just sighed, and rubbed her temples with her hands.

"Mooom…" Echo whined softly, and Aveline turned back to her with a chuckle. "The big kids are being mean again." Poor long-suffering Aveline.

The look she received in return was one of exasperated affection, and Aveline cleared her throat to grind the "fun" to a halt.

"That's all well and good, Fenris. I acknowledge that the mages in Tevinter are…"

"Awful?" Echo inserted, while Bethany went with "Odious?", and Varric decided upon "Murderous and weird?"

"All of those things." Aveline acknowledged. "But you'll find that the mages in our group are cut from a different cloth."

'Aveline is scrupulously honest and considerate.' Echo admired. She fingered the hilts of her daggers fondly. 'Another woman would have said 'Hawke and Bethany', or mentioned me by name to be honest. She didn't sell me out, she's just letting Grumpy assume what he will.'

He looked skeptical at best, but Varric nudged Carver aside to step into the center of attention, already projecting his 'ringmaster' personality.

"We were about to grab some drinks at the Hanged Man, if you would like to join us." He gave Fenris a warm smile.

The taller elf seemed to be wavering in uncertainty. His large eyes- oooh, and they were such a pretty green—slid over the individual members of the group, noting their closeness.

'It would be a shame if he missed out.' She pressed her lips together for a moment, considering. Not that she cared, or anything, but it would be lonely to be the odd man out. Maybe he just needed a little push—a gesture so he knew he was welcome and not just being invited as a formality?

"I'll pay." Echo advised. She had to amend the thought once she saw pure glee on Hawke's face. "For you. And Bethany. Everyone else actually has a job." She shot Carver a faux-disapproving look. "Mooches."

Fenris actually wasn't so bad once she got to know him. He was intelligent and driven, with a dedication to slaver murder that Echo really admired.

When the proportion of slavers wielding magic became obvious, she could certainly understand his distrust of mages. Most of his oppressors had been mages. (Although the thought was just a bit baffling, it was hard to imagine any one mage or small group of mages that could make Fenris do anything).

No matter how understanding she tried to be, Echo wasn't looking forward to when that bile was going to be directed at her. He'd figure that out eventually if they were going to be working together.

At the same time, she had no interest in 'confessing' her abilities to him, as if she was somehow obligated to answer to him. That wasn't the way the world worked. She wasn't ashamed. However understandable his mistrust, Fenris was in the wrong. She wouldn't apologize for being a mage.

(And that thought was both thrilling and frightening, when she caught herself thinking like a 'mage' instead of a 'Fade Spirit'. How much had she unconsciously acclimated to this world?)

Fenris filled out their party like he'd always been there to chop adversaries in half. He and Carver looked a bit demented, covered in gore and swinging swords bigger than her around like they were made of naught but dreams and unicorn hair.

Even with the addition to the dream team, Hawke was still on one hell of a recruitment kick. One night a pirate with fantastic cleavage drank with them at the bar. By the next morning, Isabela was working with them to clear out scum on the Wounded Coast.

Echo was quickly growing a bit bored. Between the three warriors and two regular long-distance fighters, she and Isabela barely participated in most fights. Sure, they got to finish off a straggler here and there, but that was about it.

The only thing to do was talk, and that was unappealing. Isabela apparently only had two settings: try to get in someone's pants, and mock people for perceived characteristics like Aveline's supposed prudishness. Scintillating.

That was why she was out wandering the Coast alone, barefoot in the sand. She figured that between her magic and knives, she could take care of pretty much any foe that close to Kirkwall. And she needed the stress relief. No one was stupid enough to attack the Alienage anymore, which was good. But she needed to hit things sometimes.

Fenris was always picking fights with Hawke, Carver was going through some sort of phase, Aveline was naturally bossy, and Isabella was crude.

All that added up to a very frustrated Echo, with absolutely nobody to punch in the face. It was unprofessional to attack one of her cohorts. Or that's what Arianni had said when she'd gone to vent.

It was Arianni's idea to come out here on her own, actually. Slavers occasionally patrolled the area for unwary travelers, and bandits roamed freely. Both of those groups were well within Echo's skill level, even without her irritating coworkers.

She was only out for a few hours when she found a group of slavers dragging her people in chains across the sand bars to a small group of rowboats. She didn't recognize any of their captives, but that didn't mean she was going to let the slavers get away.

She would forever deny thinking, 'Goody,' but she was certainly going to enjoy murdering the lot of unscrupulous bigots.

Echo withdrew one of the throwing daggers Varric had been training her in, and flung it overhand. It flew in a beautiful line directly into the eye socket of the loud idiot barking out orders. It made a squishy 'thuk' sound as it connected. He wavered for a second. The corpse slowly toppled into the waters with a slapping sound. After a moment, his leather armor presumably filled with liquid and he began to sink.

It took an embarrassingly long time for his companions to react. "Hey!" One of them barked, pointing at her. "There's an escapee we missed!"

"I missed you, too, dear." She muttered, as she withdrew her specially crafted daggers and set her jaw. "I won't this time."

They rushed her, but their numbers weren't going to matter. They had clunky armor and had waded deeply into the water—their speed was pitiful. Echo chose to make her life easier, by freezing that section of the water with an ice spell. They yelped and jerked their torsos in vain to break themselves free. All that did was crackle the thinner ice, and bruise their ribs against the thick bits.

"Morons." Echo said under her breath, as she calmly walked on the ice with light feet and slit each of their throats. No mages in the lot. They might be on the boat, though.

She let the ice melt as it pleased, and waded to the elves in chains. They whimpered and whispered among themselves, but she merely froze and shattered the metal links.

"Kirkwall is that way." She said as kindly as she could manage. "If you want to wait, I can take you there. I just want to finish up on that ship, first." Echo jerked her head as what was presumably the vessel that the rowboats were intended to reach. It wasn't far away at all. Echo could probably use a chunk of mana and freeze the water it was in, too, marooning it. Then she could walk right in and wreck up the place like she wanted.

They didn't seem to know what to make of her, but that was expected. Her dripping charges huddled together along the shoreline and stared at her with caution.

"I'll be right back." She offered. "If you don't want to go to Kirkwall, there's a Dalish camp up the mountain instead. But if you want to go there, I would really recommend waiting until I get back. It's a bit dangerous to go up there alone."

They didn't move an inch.

Echo shrugged, and started freezing the top layers of water to make an ice bridge. It was slow, but fun, to slide around on the slippery ice. When she reached the ship, she froze the water all around the ship, making sure they would be unable to escape. She would have summoned a gigantic fireball, but it was impossible to be sure that there weren't any slaves still onboard.

"Honey, I'm home!" She called jovially, as she blasted the side of the ship open with a smaller fireball.

"…The hell?" A sleepy voice sounded from her right, and she turned to see a scruffy redhead rub his eyes from a cot. He began to sit up on his elbows, which made the cot waver.

It wasn't even a fight. She merely stepped over and opened his throat with a careful slash. He flopped back onto the bed and died almost immediately.

The rest of the ship wasn't that much more interesting, to be honest. To say it was a slaughter would be much more accurate, except for a mage that gave her some trouble. He was clever enough to evade her daggers, and put enough distance between them to use his magic effectively.

"Damn elf scum." He ground out, shooting off an ice spear that she barely avoided. Echo dodged the lightning bolt that came next, and ran up to close the distance. She couldn't keep fighting him like that without using magic of her own, and there were indeed other slaves on the boat. Her magic could hurt them just as easily as it could him, and that wasn't an option.

She dropped down to her knees and slid on the thick blood coating the boards, and sliced up and around as she passed under his legs.

His knees gave out, and he thudded to the ground. His face hit the wood with a sickening crack.

"I think that's all of them." Echo breathed, laboriously getting to her feet. She was sore, and had quite a few gashes. Either Marethari or Bethany could patch her up, but she couldn't do it herself. Echo (and Merrill, for that matter) didn't know shit about healing.

The former slaves (as she informed them on their way off that shitty boat) followed her all the way to the shore. Then, she summoned a large fireball and directed it onto the ship, watching it burn and sink as the ice melted beneath it.

"So, that was my plan for today." She said conversationally, turning back to her befuddled ducklings. "What would you like to do?"

Most of them elected to go 'wherever the hell she was going', but a few wanted to go to the Dalish camp. It was a long trek up the mountain, and a few more hours until a hunter appeared out of the brush.

"You've returned, First?" He asked, eyeing her followers with undisguised interest.

She shook her head. "Well, not exactly. They've escaped a life of slavery and want to live with you. I suppose you'll need to speak with Keeper Marethari?"

Marethari was thrilled to take ten or so people of Echo's hands, but significantly less so that Echo wasn't staying.

"I take it you are enjoying your time in Kirkwall?" She asked delicately, with a glance back to the Dalish camp further up Sundermount.

Echo very carefully didn't snort. "Enjoying may not be the word I would use, Keeper. But I am needed there."

Marethari just looked sad, and Echo could finally see how old she was. Too old to be dealing with her shit, apparently.

"But as I said, I have responsibilities there. So I'll be taking these lovely people back there with me, now." Echo said quickly, and turned back around.

She was vaguely surprised that none of her ducklings were getting whiplash.

They arrived in Kirkwall just before nightfall, tired and hungry. She sent them into her house while she sought out Arianni for advice. They certainly had homes for everyone. There was a surprising amount of space in the Alienage.

It wasn't as if anyone would begrudge her ducklings a fresh start.

Everyone slept in piles like puppies on her floor that night, but Arianni had them moved out and into their own homes by afternoon the next day. Echo might be very good at killing things, but Arianni was terrifyingly organized.

"We make a good team." She said, nudging Arianni in the shoulder after a long day of moving food and furniture. No one had much in the Alienage, but everyone had contributed odds and ends to make sure their new residents had something to call their own.

Arianni just rolled her eyes with a warm smile. "You're going to fill the Alienage up at this rate. We'll be bursting through seams soon."

"This was one time." Echo defended. "Besides, that would be a good thing. Maybe we could pool our money and buy an estate in Hightown. They have the nicest fruit trees up there."

Besides, filling up the Alienage was a good thing. Less likely that some of those slaver bastards could set up shop there again. Echo carefully wiped the scowl from her face, and gave Arianni a careful smile.

She doubted she'd fooled her for a second.

It was two days later that Echo stopped dead in her tracks and realized that she'd destroyed a perfectly good boat.

"Oh dear."

'I could have been rid of the pirate.' She cradled her head in her hands, ignoring Hawke's questions (that woman was insistent and desperate for attention, wasn't she?) and the way that Varric clapped a warm hand on her shoulder and steered her along without comment.

"I suppose she forgot to water her roses," Isabela commented archly.

Safely hidden behind her fingers, Echo rolled her eyes. That woman wasn't half as funny as she thought she was. Yes, hilarious, let's make endless comments about how everyone else is a prude and act as though everyone else is a derogatory caricature instead of a complex sentient being. So clever, Isabela. That definitely made it much harder to tell that the pirate had crippling self-esteem issues and a story that didn't add up.

'I choose to pretend that I blew up the boat because I didn't want to make her happy, not because I forgot and blowing things up is fine,' Echo decided in the safety of her mind.