Final Deep Roads fiasco. No, not Carver, although that's in too. You'll get the chapter title soon.
An hour later, Deep Roads, Day 13
"Angush Poophead McTindigger," Anders said to Varric.
"Now I understand Tindigger, but what does 'poophead' have to do with me, Blondie?" Varric asked as he crossed his arms.
"'Cause you bullshit a lot, I presume," Hawke said with a warm smile.
"Hm. Still not good enough," Varric said charmingly. "Anyway where was I?"
"You had to give Fenris a name," Hawke said as she sat beside him in camp.
"I thought we stopped with this pointless game," Fenris said bitterly, begging in his head that they would go to sleep.
"Nonsense, elf, this is how we get to know each other. And discharge all the tension, hate and other bodily feelings that are boiling up," Varric said charismatically, raising an eyebrow at the last bit. "So, where was I – ah, yes," he said as he brushed his chin, "Ser Grumpybutt McBarkalot."
"Winifred The Manwitch Whinehard," Fenris said to Anders.
"Oh, you give me a name now. Curious how you never did it before," Hawke said to Anders as he scratched his head awkwardly.
"Ah, and here I thought we'd go on with that little detail unnoticed," Anders said smiling viciously at Hawke.
"He lacks the proper parts to have the courage to offend you," Fenris smirked sarcastically.
"Oh, like you offended her truly. Clown, troll and pants references are not the way to genuinely offend a woman," Anders said decisively.
"Then, by all means, you offend her more effectively," Fenris said nonchalantly, gesturing towards Hawke.
"Don't fireball my arse, Hawke. It's still just a game, yes?" Anders said with a serious look.
"I'll hit you if you beat around the bush much longer," Hawke said impatiently.
Anders sighed, "Ugh, fine," he said and looked up around the ceilings. "Lady Charlotte the Harlot, the Red Fury of The Lantern District," Anders said grinning.
"Uh, what?! How about Crotchface McHomo of Pussytown District," Hawke said aggressively.
"See? Genuine offense," Anders said self-assured to Fenris.
"Ugh. It was supposed to have something to do with the real us, but let's continue," Hawke said bitterly and sighed. "Chuckleberry The Limbomaster McFattso," she said dramatically to Varric.
"Now I'm fat and close to earth, great," Varric said sarcastically as he laughed.
"I could have called you Footstool McCarryme, but that seemed rather cruel," Hawke said warmly.
They laughed and Varric looked at Anders with evil eyes, "Alright Blondie. You asked for it. Prettyboy Dumbley Bum McNeedledick."
"Ouch, right below the belt, literally," Anders said a bit annoyed as Fenris couldn't control his laughter and everyone was looking petrified again at the sight. "I think I'm out," he said nonchalantly as he yawned. "Lady," he saluted Hawke mischeviously.
"Arselicker," she said aggressively.
"Is that his tactful way of courting a woman?" Varric whispered to Hawke as Anders went away to sleep.
"No. More because he probably is more experienced in courting the other gender," she said sarcastically.
"Oh, cheer up, Pantaloons, I'm still rooting for you," Varric said sarcastically as she pat her on the shoulder.
"Less touching, more sleeping, Varric. We've been stuck in critical conditions for a long time, you don't want to let Bianca witness something deeply immoral, do you?" she said as she grinned.
"As much as I'm waiting like a pretty princess in the dungeon for you to jump me, Hawke, I'm standing guard this time," Varric said charmingly. She was preparing to say something, but he cut her short, "You haven't slept in days, Hawke."
"There's no Aveline here to side with you, Varric. I decide the 'patrols'," she said determinedly.
"Do I need to remind you of the No More Whining Act of 8:34 Blessed? In the mean time, consider me a volunteer," Varric said assertively and crossed his arms in sign he wasn't moving anywhere.
A distinct, deep, sometimes delightful, in this case annoying sound came about.
"Hawke," Fenris said flatly.
"Oh, you're speaking to me again? I thought you went all Ser Silenttreatment O'Mad-son after I made fun of your height," she said childishly.
He ignored her and kept a serious face, "The dwarf is right. You are not doing anyone a service by exhausting yourself."
"Hm. Should I listen to your sound advice or listen to the little voice in my head who says this is a bet you've placed with Varric on who gets to convince me first," she said narrowing her eyes at him.
"If you have numerous voices in your head – there you have it, your call to go to sleep and stop being so recalcitrant," Fenris said bitterly as he frowned and shook his head.
"Oh, is that a newly appointed pretentious word in your daily count repertoire?" Hawke deflected sarcastically.
"No. There are more. Like stubborn, difficult, uncooperative, stiff-necked," he said assaultively, drawing a colossal frown.
"Thank you for the vocabulary lesson," she said sarcastically, narrowing her eyes. "I'm beginning to think Priscilla Tuffpants was not a compliment."
"It wasn't," Fenris said flatly.
"But having voices in my head is fun," she said, grinning and getting up. She walked out of camp in silence and disappeared in the dark.
Fenris and Varric gave each other a telepathic look. If she was going crazy again, this was no time to be letting her walk alone.
Let her be, elf, this isn't the time to push her buttons, Varric's face said as he frowned.
No, Fenris said telepathically, his mere face shooting spears at Varric from his ferocious annoyance.
Your ears may be sharp, but your brain is seriously going for a much rectangular form, Varric thought sarcastically, sending annoyance back to the elf.
Says the dwarf with the incredibly big square head, Fenris muttered in his thoughts.
Keep that up, serah, and you can keep moping on your bloody trapped feet when I look the other way, Varric thought aggressively.
Threatening me will not change the reality of the situation, Fenris thought flatly.
You mean your reality, where every mage is reeking of demonic bloodlust and pretty unicorns and whatever else normal people see only when they're baked, Varric thought angrily back at Fenris.
It is what it is. Lie to yourself if you must, Fenris thought nonchalantly, his face remaining that of a statue.
Bah, you're going from annoyingly concerned to insufferably paranoid, Varric growled telepathically.
You will thank me later, Fenris replied, drawing a ghost of a determined grin.
Dark Cavern, Deep Roads, Still Day 13
Fenris walked among the barren dwarven hallways for what felt like an hour and there was no crazy redheaded abstinent mage warrior woman resembling Hawke in sight. He followed the walls that were beforehand marked by red-painted 'X'-s, so they wouldn't lose themselves in there. Yes, to lose oneself. An undeniable danger.
His vigilance towards the dangers of darkspawn had broken, distracted incessantly by a different, private fear. It felt like an infinity of sharp blades poking in his chest. It didn't feel like the ordinary heartbreaking terror of ghostly and silvery cries of the slaves that were not as lucky as he was, nor the grotesque voices of the depraved, demon-worshipping and relentless magisters. It was a different kind of terror.
This receptiveness hurt him. It brought back, just to distract himself, the awful memory of being shut up in a dark pit, with his neck tied to a chain, with only the screaming and the crying voices to keep him company for years and years and years. He would not remember that. Some things one would not want to remember.
Like being burned, imprisoned. No, he shut off the voices. In fact, he remembered what he stood by so firmly as he disciplined himself in those dungeons in Minrathous. If you do not learn how to single out your thoughts, if you do not block the horrid sounds, they will drive you mad. But with him now, it was simple. Or so he thought. For the cheap distraction he so adamantly chose, was just another kind of terror. A distinct, singled out, private terror.
He would not allow himself to look the other way, shut off the experienced, tired man in his soul, whom so many bad things had happened to. He would be a fool to live on the edge. Of course, he would feel guilty and stupid when he finds her chilling on a rock, contemplating the absolute, free of demonic possession or other paranoid delusions that belonged to the undercurrent of his own, private wild exaggerations.
Nonsense, of course, yet it comforted him, for lack of a better word. His pointy ear almost moved as if it belonged to a sharp mabari, for a specific, extremely inappropriate to the situation, but delightful sound started to vibrate.
Humming. Will wonders never cease. It had to be Hawke, unless darkspawn started to get deeply bored out there and decided they wanted to be mermaids.
Beside a red marked 'X' on the wall, there was an opening that he had not seen before. It must have been a specific kind of stubborn and annoying redheaded forcewave that had shattered it. He walked into the opening while controlling his breathing, following the lovely sound of the humming that just screamed in his head 'You have gone mad. Time to count your blessings, for you are infected by the taint'.
Only it wasn't the taint. Or he really hoped it wasn't.
In the dark, with just three little blue and red shades of light from the lyrium pillars, the outline of a large crater started to form in his vision. It was indeed, a crater, filled with what appeared to be clear water. He walked past a stone formation that hid its entirety and saw a human figure in the water, adorned by the red and blue lights and leaning its back on a rock.
His throat stiffened and his cheeks, mouth and eyes all joined in a massive flinch that stripped the reason and awareness out of his brain. Yes, indeed, stripped.
"Fenris, what the hell," Hawke shouted in annoyance splashing water with her greatsword, as the shock robbed her of reason. It took her two more seconds to understand what was going on and rapidly covered herself with one hand.
He didn't even see anything. He only frowned from the pain of the ridiculous and the inexplicable, as his breathing stopped and he remained a silent, creepy statue, at the edge of the improvised pond, looking at her as if nothing was wrong.
"You can't stay two minutes without making sure I don't go hot-headed haywires and get lost in this pithole," Hawke continued aggressively with narrowed eyes, distracting herself from the deep, horrifying awkwardness of the situation.
"I – ", he stuttered, "Uh – ", his voice deepened and his eyes burned.
He quickly turned around chivalrously.
"I'm sorry," he said knightly. "I did not realize you would be…," he lost the word. "Cleansing yourself."
She burst into laughter, "Well that's a fancy way to put it. It did not occur to you at least once that I … well, yes, I guess I understand. Were I you, I wouldn't think by any stretch of the imagination that this was the reason I left."
He coughed chivalrously, "I will leave you be."
"Well, you already saw me," she said looking away, "Might as well have someone stand guard. I can see how this is reckless."
He laughed with his back still turned like a statue, "Now you see?"
"Yes, yes, laugh at me," she said aggressively.
He cleared his throat awkwardly. "I did not see anything."
"No?" she said bewilderedly as she looked down at her covering hands. "Well, good."
"So… you created this?" he asked awkwardly, looking at the wall in the distance.
She smirked and went back neck-deep in the water, "What's it to you?"
"I -," he stuttered, "am merely curious how you achieved such a convenient… facility, in here."
She laughed softly, "Ice it up nicely then melt with fire. Horribly simple, if you ask me," she said flatly.
"I see," he said firmly, rolling his eyes around the room and keeping his sculpture-like position with his back turned to the water-filled crater.
"Well… you can go, if you want to, I mean," she said awkwardly, "I do not need protection."
He hesitated, followed by a short smile, "You seem to be a champion at protecting others, as well as putting yourself in danger."
"Oh, is it a thing already?" Hawke asked amused.
"It has been horribly frequent," Fenris said flatly.
"Then by all means, stand there like a petrified ghost," she said sarcastically.
"And what would you have me do?" he asked aggressively. "Turn around and play word games with you to pass the time?"
"I suppose playing I spy with my little eye would not be a rich choice of a game to pass the time with," she said smirking.
"It wouldn't," he said firmly, trying to contain an amused smile, even with his back turned.
"Well, this isn't fair. You meddle in my private affairs and I'm the only one to feel awkward and self-conscious?" she said assertively.
"Believe me, you are not alone in this," Fenris said sarcastically, rolling his eyes and tensing up even more.
"It is still not proper," she said courteously.
He hesitated and frowned, "None of this is proper," he said firmly.
"Just come in the water and keep your distance. I think that would be fair enough, don't you?" she said as she drew a colossal grin.
"And when the darkspawn come, we'll just salute them warmly and ask them to join in, too," he said sarcastically, feeling a rush boiling up in all his insides.
"Well, you can stand up from the water, whip it out and pray they'll be intimidated and go away," she said laughing.
"Preposterous," he said aggressively in a hoarse tone.
She sighed, "Do I have to get out and drag you in myself?" she said assertively.
"No," he said quickly and frowned. He hesitated, as his brain was on vacation somewhere in a faraway land and the tension grew horribly sharp. He sighed, "Just, don't look."
She smiled and gave away a short laugh, "Believe me, I don't want to be appalled by some terrifying sight. My curiosity ends at the wonder if those shoulder pads were just build around genuine spikes of skin. " She sunk neck-deep again in the water and put her hands over her eyes. "I'm utterly blind now, proceed."
Fenris sighed and remained immobilized. He looked down and closed his eyes. This was inappropriate, dangerous, ridiculous. He should have cursed in Tevinter when he had the chance and proceed to leave her in that pithole to be eaten by the darkspawn. For some reason, her voice was commanding and abrupt, not like a magister, though. Logical in its intent, but all while giving him a sense of security, which the little stupid, inexperienced, free man in his soul bit like a naïve gazelle wondered after the dance of the leopard's beautifully textured tail. He remained with the comfort of swearing inside his mind and forcefully took a grip on his chest plate.
He took it off angrily, as if it was some malignant, bitch of life and undid the ties of his shirt. He cursed in his head during the whole process and swallowed heavily, leaving the other voices to cry and scream in a deaf spot in his mind. They just became a spark of irritating noise.
He flinched at the sound of her voice, which said, "Are you done yet? My face is getting numb."
"Almost," he muttered angrily and stepped in the cold water. It was a miracle of life, the touch of freshly created water, all hidden away in a gigantic dark shithole of an abandoned thaig that reeked of death and despair. "You can open your eyes now," he said, as he was neck-deep in the water in the opposite end of the pond from her.
She uncovered her face and started to laugh. "You look like a giant grumpy water lily floating about and waiting to burst into tiny little grumpy petals."
"I am so pleased to be the object of your amusement," he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
"At least you're getting a bath, don't you know manners?" she said sarcastically.
"T-h-a-n-k y-o-u," he said sarcastically, accentuating every syllable.
Being so angry and tensed, he forgot to look away and appear unaffected, so he just looked at her in awe. The dark water didn't give away any form or complexion beneath, but only now did he notice her red hair was undone and beautifully adorning her face, covering her shoulders, so she didn't have to sit neck-deep to cover herself, but rather just at shoulder-length. She looked at him grinning to no end and placed an arm to rest horizontally on a rock next to her.
"Oh, go on, I know you want to," she said warmly.
Fenris paused and raised an eyebrow, "What do I want?"
"The water is not see-through from all this dust and dirt."
She read his mind. He was just thinking how much he wanted to stick his head in the water for a few seconds and feel the cold. He frowned at her and sank in the water until she couldn't see him anymore. When his head emerged again, his face drew the picture of relief and freedom, a small private joy amid the tiring and jaded feeling of his dehydrated body, the whole inconvenience and critical state of their trip.
"Feeling better now?" she asked sarcastically.
"This is no place to be overwhelmed by some ridiculous abundance of joy," he muttered angrily.
"Don't you have anything positive to say?" she asked in contained outrage, raising an eyebrow.
"The… water is nice?" he said nonchalantly, looking around.
"That's … something," she said awkwardly and smiled. "Good start."
"No. I am finished," he said firmly. "There is nothing else positive to say about this."
"Humor me," she said angrily, rolling her eyes at him. She stuck her head in the water, then came back out splashing water from left to right, her hair flying up and landing on her pale, strong shoulders again. They were strong, no doubt, but they appeared fragile and, he now noticed, bruised.
Fenris swallowed heavily and looked away. Of all the insane, ridiculous, fully unreasonable things they've done in Deep Roads, this was the ultimate crazy. He thanked the existing or invented gods again, that Varric was not there to witness it and tell the breaking, earth-shattering and extremely embellished story when they got back to Kirkwall.
But the cold, soft water was comforting and life-giving, it soothed his skin that was almost always in pain. He felt like he was being healed again, only by a mending, natural substance now.
Fenris emerged from the water at chest length and rested his back against the rocks.
"I know you'll probably curse at me and get out, but how far do those markings go?" she asked in amusement.
"Wouldn't you like to know," he said sarcastically, giving away a sensual tigerish grin.
"And spoil the fun? Yes, yes, caught in a trap of my own doing," she said and laughed. "Well, I won again."
"Again?" he asked bewilderedly and raised an eyebrow, as he rested an arm back up on the edge.
"It's the second time I got you to take off that armour," she said as she grinned.
"Yes, evidently so. And to take a bath, too. I am a horrible liar," he said sarcastically, keeping his aura of nonchalance despite the tension in all his body.
"Of all my friends, I'd say you're the most honest," she said firmly.
He hesitated , with a contained lift to his eyebrows. "Friend?"
"Sorry. Companion. I wouldn't want you to feel like I'm such a colossal intrusion and impropriety," she said sarcastically.
He laughed very softly, "What would call this then? An awfully polite way of keeping our distance?"
She looked to her right, then her left quickly, and nodded. "Good point."
"I thought so," Fenris said in amusement. "Friend," he finished and nodded towards her with a dark, profound gaze and an intrusive grin.
"I can feel the genuineness in that last bit," Hawke smirked. "It reeks of honesty. I'm feeling so close to you right now," she said sarcastically.
"Then come closer, if you feel I'm so far away," he said nonchalantly. She stopped her breathing and wondered if it was poorly clarified sarcasm, for he seemed very firm in his statement.
"I feel a 'but' coming," she said flatly.
"There is none," he said firmly in a deep voice, eyeing her differently than his usual angry look.
She raised an eyebrow and looked at him in confusion. What was he doing? Sure, they had been stuck in this hellhole for a long time and basic needs were awfully poked at with a stick, but how was this sane? And how was he suddenly so firm and intent on becoming closer with someone, when for months all he did was bark incessantly and telling everyone to keep their distance.
The voice in her had had broken, as she felt a sudden rush in her everywhere and she felt trapped in a body animating in the water towards Fenris. He watched her insistently with his penetrating, curious green eyes as she approached him. "What do you want exactly?" she said narrowing her eyes and stopping a quarter away from the original distance between them.
He wasn't breathing hoarsely, wasn't swallowing heavily, nothing. Her permissions meant nothing to him, neither did her suspicions. Her commanding power was but another degree of what we all possessed, which didn't made the struggle simple, but it did make him want to take her.
"I'm not divulging anything at a distance," he said firmly and continued to stare at her with dilated pupils and a sensual grin.
Her legs moved without her, succumbing herself at their command. She approached him slowly in the water as his grin became wider and wider through his wet hair. He removed his arm from behind where it was resting on the edge of the pond and he went deeper in the water to get closer to her. He locked his gaze in her colour-changing, now green eyes and they widened suddenly, as if a colossal shock had unsettled them into deep anguish.
"Desire demon!" she half-shouted in terror and a gigantic water barrier splashed in his face.
Fenris jumped out and grabbed his sword, as a purple bare desire demon came out of the water.
"You little spoilsport. I should have gone into you when you were alone and defenceless," the demon said looking for Hawke in the water.
She swam back to the rocks underwater and grabbed whatever cloth she could and her greatsword, then emerged from the water and started unsettling it with a forcewave.
"Oh, play with me," the desire demon whispered, "I like games."
Hawke ducked down from the demon's attempted grip and tried to slash it, but the demon grabbed it in its hands and said, "Oops." Hawke growled in annoyance, as the demon pushed the sword towards her and tried to grab her by the throat.
A sharp, hoarse cut went right through the demon's chest, then Fenris took it out forcefully. The demon screamed and cried and Hawke took the chance to dismember it, but the creature faked it and for him now.
"Get back!" Hawke screamed at Fenris as she tried to push the demon aside, that was now using the water to form a tornado around them.
Fenris turned on his glow with a dark, annoyed look and grabbed Hawke's hand forcefully and put it inside the demon's chest. "Do it," he screamed.
Hawke flinched, but quickly felt her hand solidify along with his inside the demon and she channelled a massive wave inside it. The demon coughed and shouted, but it quickly shattered into a thousand pieces and dissipated into the air.
"Shit," Hawke said as she panted in terror. "That was-," she tried to say in-between panting, "Awesome," she finished muttering to Fenris, who was now looking extremely ferocious and angry, ready to burst. He let her hand go forcefully, as if she were nothing, "Get dressed," he said firmly and turned his back to get out of the water.
She went for her armour and put it back over the long blouse she put on before, as her body trembled recalling the ridiculous event that they just went through. Stupid blighted desire demon, praying on their basic needs and mesmerizing them. It tried to lure them into letting their guard down so it could possess them.
"It is done," he said flatly as he finished equipping himself. She turned around and approached him with a firm look.
"I'm sorry, I -," she started awkwardly.
"No," he said firmly and looked away in confusion. "I apologize. I should not have let myself fooled by that monster's illusions. I… initiated it," he said firmly, looking down.
"It wasn't exactly an illusion. More like the demon animated us both like puppets," she said assertively and put her sword in its back holder.
"Whatever it did, I had failed to see it," he said aggressively, hiding his eyes through his hair.
"This was my fault just as much. I'm a mage and I didn't sense jack shit," she said commandingly, taking a step closer to him.
He coughed and cleared his throat awkwardly, "Yes, well, be more vigilant next time."
"There won't any more next times in this hellhole. We're getting out of it today," she said aggressively as she started to walk towards the opening. She stopped with him behind her and said, "I assume it is clear that we won't tell anyone what just happened here," she said firmly.
"Crystal clear," Fenris said flatly and proceeded to walk with her back to camp.
Back to camp
"Shit, you both look like you just saw a ghost," Varric said bewilderedly as they came back, both pale and silent.
"Kinda…sorta," Hawke said awkwardly and went straight to sleep.
"Well, here's your 50 silvers. Did you scare her with your magical fisting into accepting to sleep?" Varric said as he looked for the coin in his jacket.
"Something like that," Fenris said flatly and took the coin. He took a seat near the firepit and remained silent.
"So, I'm sensing you don't feel like playing the name game anymore," Varric said awkwardly as he scratched his head.
"You're sensing correctly," Fenris said as he continued to tremble. Varric noticed, but decided not to assault him with direct questions.
"So… that thing you do with your hand. I bet that makes pickpocketing easier."
"This is the fifth time you've asked me," Fenris said aggressively and started to frown.
"Right," Varric said sharply. "Sorry."
"Just whip out your cards," Fenris said flatly.
"What?" Varric asked raising an eyebrow.
"I know you brought cards," Fenris said firmly, without looking at him.
"Hm. Right away, serah," Varric said awkwardly and felt scared at the elf's sharp and direct, yet evasive behaviour. Something happened back there and he was going to find out. Sooner or later.
Deep Roads, Day 16
"Well, we're back where we started," Varric said as they approached the red-marked walls.
"Got any other great ideas?" Hawke asked as she shrugged and looked around.
"Scream our lungs out hoping the Hero of Ferelden might be venturing in here on vacation or something?" Varric said sarcastically.
"If that's her choice of vacation, I don't want her rescuing us at all," Hawke replied in annoyance.
"Cheer, up, Pantaloons, -" he started but paused. "Well, I've got nothing. I am officially out of comforting and glass half-full lines."
"Then we are all lost," she said with a sad face, almost appearing like she meant it.
"Think we can… take a break?" Carver said in a hoarse voice behind her.
Hawke felt annoyed and hesitated to talk to him again, but she rolled her eyes and said, "Sure. We can set camp, but just for a break."
She proceeded to walk forward but a sudden harsh sound like a body falling presented itself and she turned back and saw Carver on the ground.
"Carver!" she screamed in terror. She knew it. It wasn't his stubborn pride that made him so silent the past few days, it was something wrong with him that he couldn't admit to because everybody else was fine.
"It's the blight, I can sense it," Anders said as he approached them with a haunted face.
"I'll be just like that Templar, Wesley, I'll be just as dead. Just as gone," he said panting and staring blankly as if he saw his life flashing before his eyes.
"You're not dying on me, Carver," Hawke said aggressively as she held him.
"There might be something we can do. I stole those maps from Grey Wardens who were going to venture in this area. If they are here, they can help him," Anders said firmly.
She struck a colossal frown, got up and pushed Anders against the wall as she held him by the collar of his robe. "And you're telling us now?"
Anders coughed and raised his arms in sign of peace, "I didn't want them to follow me and you just wanted the maps."
Hawke pushed him against the wall again aggressively with fire in her eyes, "Not only that, you bastard. Were you too busy looking for mushrooms that you couldn't sense the taint in him?" she screamed with a homicidal look.
"I swear to you – I didn't sense it. When the taint is received, it lies dormant within the body until it gathers enough energy to spread a massive infection everywhere."
"Sister," Carver said in a warm, but husky and sick voice as he was held by Fenris and Varric. "I'm not going to make it."
"Yes you are. We're going to find those Wardens if it kills me," Hawke said in a determined, driven voice. "Start walking!" she shouted at Anders and he flinched in a defensive position.
"No," Carver said pleading. "Leave us a moment," he said looking at the others. They all nodded while trying to mask the terror in their eyes and walked away down the stairs.
"Listen to me, Carver," Hawke started fiercely, "You're not going to die here."
"Sister," he said warmly. "Please, do it."
"No!" she shouted and frowned into a sorrowful, pleading face. "I can't," she said as she felt a battalion of burning tears starting to come out of her eyes.
"It's not your fault," he said. "It never was."
"I don't care where the finger has been pointed at," Hawke said in frustration. "You're my brother. Nothing is going to happen to you unless I allow it. And I'm bloody not going to."
"I understand, Sister," he said warmly and coughed. "I always understood."
"I know you did. I did, too, Carver. I swear it. I was just bloody stubborn."
He gave a small, husky laugh, "Of course, we both were. We wouldn't be Hawkes otherwise."
She laughed, "Ser Tobias Blackheart, iron will and heart of steel," she said smiling, but stubbornly refusing to let the tears come out.
"And Ser Luna Rosebud, hair of roses and heart of gold. A flaming menace against all evil. " he said looking with warm eyes and brushing the hair out of her face.
"Evil can suck it," she said firmly and smiled.
"I'm sorry, for what it's worth. That I couldn't be a better brother to you."
"We're both guilty at that. But don't lose hope now just because you feel a little dizzy. I mean," she looked down, "Please, Carver, I can't lose you. You have to trust me."
"I trust you, Sister," he said in a hoarse voice. "But I don't think I trust myself to hold on."
"Well, we can't sit on our asses and argue about that now," she said aggressively.
"No, we can't. I'd rather spend the time left saying how much I love you," he said decisively.
"You'll have plenty of time to take that statement back," she said firmly.
"Sister-"
"No, Carver. We've come this far. You escaped danger so many times in here, what's one more time tricking death?"
He laughed, "Alright. I trust you."
"Good."
Deep Roads, Day 18
"If you don't take him, I'm going to kill you," Hawke shouted at Stroud with burning eyes.
"Threatening me will not get you the result you're looking for," Stroud said flatly to Hawke.
"Oh, I'm sorry, my manners. Hello, good morning, good evening, such a marvellous coincidence that we ran into each other, pleasure to have your acquaintance – now take him," she said firmly.
"I know it may come as a shock to you, but we do not recruit Grey Wardens out of pity," Stroud retorted her sarcasm.
"He's an excellent warrior. We've been here for almost a month and he's had no problems kicking darkspawn arse. You'd be an idiot not to take him with no Blight coming and no recruits jumping and panting eager to sign up."
"This is as much a sentence as the taint itself, you know this Anders," Stroud said firmly, but flinching at how he contradicted himself.
"He'll die anyway, I'm asking you," Anders pleaded with logic and what seemed as a telepathic agreement between the two.
"If the boy comes, he comes now and you may never see him again. Being a Grey Warden is a calling, not a charity," Stroud said firmly as he faced Hawke.
"Thank you," Hawke said inhaling again after so long and looked at Carver.
"Well, I get this it. Should have trusted you all along to find a way," Carver said to her grinning.
"You know me, I never accept 'no' for an answer," she said as she smiled, masking the burning terror in her soul.
"Take care of Mother," Carver said in pain and Hawke could have sworn a tear was coming out of his eye.
"Carver," she said flatly, as Stroud took him under his grip. "Be safe. Promise me you will."
"I promise," he said nodding in a knightly salute.
As they took him away and were swallowed by the grand darkness of the cavers, she bend her head down slowly as if the shock robbed her of any expression, remaining unperturbed.
"Hawke," Varric said approaching her.
"Not today," Hawke said flatly, raising her palm at him. She proceeded to walk forward, in the direction Stroud had told them was the safest way out.
3 days later, Village in the Vimmark Mountains, 28 days since their departure from Kirkwall
The voices stopped and Carver's face accusing her in the field that one day life will come back to bite her dissipated into the terror of his dying body in her arms. Then his disappearing in the dark with the Wardens.
Hawke had always believed herself to be a hard and intuitive personality. Not necessarily smart or cunning, nor wise. Simply seeing the larger scheme of things and resisting under immediate pressure, foreseeing the many outcomes of the situation and making decisions based on heavy facts. She had fought both dangerous mages and demons, gigantic warriors and very flexible rogues by mastering the battlefield with her stratagems, orientation skills, on-the-spot made-up strategies and so on. But nothing had prepared her for what happened right in front of her eyes, not even her her father and sister's death couldn't have trained her into ... well, resisting the horror of a sudden death, swallowing the event, accepting the fact that despite what could have happened, she managed to save him. She couldn't even allow herself to accept that just a few days before this, she had told him he was dead to her. Beneath her rock-hard posture, her legs were crumbling to the ground.
She had nothing to retort, nothing to say. All her struggles, the fallacies, the horrors, the excuses, none of them mattered and all of them were to blame. All of them. The life she led was full of such idiocies, hiding behind the security of time. Had she had the ability to change time, she would have done everything differently. She would have gone straight to the templars as child and pleaded to be taken into their custody, take her to the Circle and be done with it. But she grew up under her father's wing and she learned how to master her powers, keep them hidden and while they seemed very fascinating and had an aura of a grand mystique, she lost interested before it had even begun. Still, she was her father's daughter. And that meant two things: that she was not giving up, whatever the cost and also, she couldn't afford to... she was held in, trapped under the moral command of protecting her family. Kirkwall, Lowtown, the estate, the expedition, they meant nothing to her. They held value and meaning for somebody else, which irrevocably radiated into meaning something to her, indirectly, but that was it.
She wondered if she blamed this for the fact that she couldn't allow herself private joys, except for doing what she thought was right in the different jobs she had taken. She wondered if, by any chance, she was full of it. If she were indeed just greedy, lustful and selfish and she had been repressing it out of guilt because of the nature of this reality itself. She was iron-willed and bull-headed as far her principles went, but they were probably a joke, too. She allowed herself to go past them when it was necessary and didn't involve danger. The few times she used magic, in the past months, she only used it because it was proper magic that saved or helped somebody, nothing more. But maybe she grew comfortable in exercising this right and she kept using it just to humor herself.
And just as well, the moment she starts using magic again, Carver almost dies. Bethany was the loving force of nature that she swore to protect at all costs, but Carver was her rock. Stupid, stubborn, show-off Carver, but he was still her rock and without him, the throne of her reason, will and sanity went straight to the garbage can.
She felt suffocated and bathed in filth. Her body was boiling, exhausted, but she kept pacing backwards and forwards, waiting for Varric and Anders to exchange a pouch of worthless jewellery for a caravan ride back to Kirkwall. As they put it, they were all suffering from a curious condition whose name she had forgotten, which implied temporary insanity, fatigue and depression, like soldiers were after the war. But what hurt her above all things was the great suffocating sense of the beginning of the end, the true beginning. The false beginning was her father's death, but no, this was the real bitch of life.
Bitterness and grief was something shallow compared to her present state of mind. Into the womb of the earth she would have crawled, if she had the strength for it. Blessed ignorance, how she wanted it.
The night was cold and harsh, unwelcoming, just as the village they were waiting about their skirts in. The rain was pouring softly, for the first time in… a very long time, she had felt the rain, and did not feel anything about it.
"Thank the gods," Fenris said, "that you did not." She didn't remember what he said before that. Something about Carver's sudden death and her hypothetical one, yes. For days he had kept silent and stuttering to the point of absolute annoyance, but the first moment they remained alone, since the horrifyingly ridiculous bath event, he managed to get the words out like a child finally getting the courage to recite the overly rehearsed apology to his parents for some stunt he had pulled.
"And why?" Hawke demanded. "Tell me, why?" she said looking at him determined.
Fenris shuddered. He was very close to saying the wrong words and he felt her hand preparing to form a burning fist.
"You are asking the wrong person the wrong question... and for the wrong reason," he stated firmly, almost wanting to hit himself.
Her homicidal eyes flinched and narrowed, but with sadness and deep realization, rather than with anger and in protest. She shoved the words out with all the rancor of an accusation, "I suppose it is done, either way. And I'm here," she said bitterly, closing her eyes and letting the water replace the tears she never allowed to come out.
Fenris lifted his eyebrows bitterly and remained a statue, thinking of what he could do at this point. He was a man and a former slave, he had no experience with consoling or comforting. In turn, he would know how to fix problems, how to do. But even so, he was utterly and profoundly clueless. Just as well, he couldn't allow himself to poke at her and make the situation even worse by asking of her to tell him what to do. Varric was the only one who always knew what to say, but in this situation, he needn't have said anything. Hawke just felt him and she calmed herself in his presence. Anders remained quiet because he knew that if he said something Hawke would punch him square in the jaw. Not he would mind to see such a thing. He, however, was neither a man of words nor of silence, apparently, for he felt being quiet was impolite and cowardly. He had to do something, but didn't know what.
He felt like a fool, but couldn't get his eyes off of her crumbling face. Her pale face, tortured and absent of color, stripped of it and letting off only a ghost of the radiance of her once flexible and rich expression. And her eyes... her eyes were not really her eyes.
He went straight for the only thing that had proven itself to be an effective ... poor remedy. He grabbed the sack of water from his pack and approached her again with a dark, contained look masked by his hair that was dripping of water continuously. And why did that make her so angry, she wondered. She was still pacing backwards and forwards, but as he got close, she turned sharply to him; she wanted to strike him, push him away. What he saw stopped him. She wasn't even looking at him, really and her expression was so distant, so soul weary that he felt his own exhaustion all the more heavily. She was looking at a ghost from her past, maybe her own ghost, and refraining stoically from killing it.
For some insane, brain-empty reason, he wanted to scream. The well-being of Hawke had always seemed crucial to his own survival, but nothing more than that one simple reason, yet now he found himself at a loss for explaining his strange behaviour. He recalled the last month in her company. He did not need to be near her - better that he was not near her - but he had to know that she was somewhere, and continuing, and that they might meet again, regardless of the mocking and barking and their endless while intelligent, extremely frustrating debates. What he saw now in her filled him with something similar. If he felt bitterness now, then Hawke felt despair.
"I have to thank you," she said abruptly, coming out of the horrifying, possessed with fear state. "You took care of him, where I had not... You pushed him out of the way before those wraiths got to him, you dragged him to safety when that monster first burst its forcewave. You sharpened his sword where he was too stubborn do it, kept guard instead of him because he wanted to sleep so much. You, -" she said as her voice trembled strongly. "Thank you."
He died inside while hearing those words. He didn't do much and it was not a risk for his own death, while she did so much more for him in turn, even as he restlessly barked and second-guessed every decision she made. He started off by stubbornly refusing to trust her and now he owed her his life for at least five rescues. Thanking him? It was a better line that he could have ever expected to come out of her at that moment. It was not impossible to like her. On the other hand, it was merely the beginning. And her thanks - it wasn't the whole truth.
"If you weren't there, my brother would be dead," she continued firmly in the rain. "If I hadn't gone in the Alienage -"
"Stop, Hawke," he whispered bitterly. Her words raised a barrier in him. "You do not owe me anything. I needed you more than you will ever need me. Whatever I did, somebody else could have easily done it," he said, as the rain poured nonchalantly, remembering the terrors she went through because of what became of him next. "It's not a matter of fate-" he said, but stopped as he saw her assume an assaultive, angry posture. She struck a colossal frown and he felt her forming her fists. "That's the truth, eh? This is just a matter of practicality and inequality?"
"No, I-," he said and hesitated. His choice of words was extremely bad. The rain didn't seem to care.
"What is the whole truth?" she asked angrily. "That I owed you nothing, not my help, least of all the knowledge of my existence and that you are impertinent to suggest that you are actually just paying some non-existent debt to me and that's all? That I am some fortunate miracle of life, that it was the ultimate luck that I made myself known to you and helped you and this is all just a big fat coincidence and you don't actually deserve any of it. And to add a cherry on top of the pile of bullshit, my taking care of you is so much more considerable than you doing ultimately the same thing?" she shouted.
"No, Hawke. If it had started that way, it's not a matter to consider and accuse me of now. It doesn't matter any longer, because I chose to come with you, I chose to plunge that sword into the dragon's throat even if it meant the death of me and I chose to stay with you even now," he said angrily while pointing at her.
"Finally exercising the right to be free?" Hawke shouted defensively. The burst of outrage and the accusation was an irrational defence, just as his. "Welcome to a world I don't even know, myself," she said as she stretched his arms sarcastically to him. "I'm a stranger in a stranger land, good to have you there with me," she said sharply, "voluntarily."
"Perhaps so," he said quietly, looking firmly into her eyes. He couldn't help smiling. She was right. And he liked the manner, the bone-hard way in which she spoke.
It had not been in his experience that a human, least of all a mage, to be irrevocably stamped by the graces of what was good and what was right, while still - he had to admit – recognizing the dangers that could become of her. She was see-through sometimes and she ached from the curse she had to live with and he saw her face every time she cast a spell, her despising it. All while still welcoming him to bark and accuse, obviously turning the blade into an already open wound. And still listening to him and taking him seriously. And so it was true, also, of even this stupid, stubborn mage, whose complex words had a savage simplicity, remained honest and welcomed him - even with a soft timbre in her voice now, despite the boiling rage and the suffering she had felt a minute ago.
"I haven't survived all this as well as I should have survived it," she said bitterly while looking down, coming back to her fear-possessed state.
"Si trans infernum ambulas, age quod agis. If you are going through hell, keep going," he said knightly, tangling his hands behind is back.
"Is that the literal translation from the Chant of Insufferable Magisters?" she asked sarcastically.
"No," he ignored her sarcasm. "And the literal translation would be, if you are going through hell, drive because you are driven."
"Oh, well, I suck at it. Drove a carriage full of explosives in a tree once. You do not want to know how that story ends," she said sarcastically, crossing her arms and looking away.
"Luckily for you, there's a - to use your words - barking mad elven cockatoo that is volunteering to keep you out of danger as you walk through hell," he said firmly, refusing to contain his smile any longer. If he made fun of himself, maybe he could distract her.
"I can walk unaided, thank you," she said with her characteristic defensive meanness as she crossed her arms.
Her face revealed a tracery of subtle, extreme vulnerability for an instant, the glimpse of someone who once had been tortured, malnourished, beaten and that kept resisting. Maybe there was more to her than she allowed everyone to see. The closer you think you are, the less you actually see. Despite making use of that stratagem, she remained an honest soul, and he could not help but respect that.
"For what it's worth – it has been my pleasure to at least try," he said courteously and nodded towards her. Those words had a double meaning, in start pertaining to saving her and Carver, but the other one he had not known exactly himself, either.
"Hmph," she said sharply, understanding his first meaning. "Never has life seemed so senseless before this, right?" she asked sarcastically, smirking to what seemed as a private joke inside her.
"Yes. Never has life itself seemed so senseless before," he said half-sarcastically and nonchalantly, looking in the distance at the, as luck would have it, half-moon.
"I'm not myself," she said looking down. "Life has sense, but I'm the one who's not making any," she said smiling bitterly, "But I don't understand my present view of things. I don't know."
He thought again of his imprisonment, the chains hurting him, the pain shooting through his limbs. Many a time he had heard slaves and even some magister guests of Danarius say with a guilty conscience "Life is not worth it," and he had never disagreed. Never fathomed to think otherwise; well, now he understood why.
As if in a trance, he saw her turn to lead the way to the shop in which Varric and Anders were taking so long. She lost the thing that kept her hair up in a tail and she refused to use the red material wrapped around the pommel of her greatsword. He thought she was being impractical. But now, in the cold of night and in the – finally – fresh air, it fell to her ribs, a great mass of red. And he felt the urge to touch it, see if it was so soft as it looked. How positively remarkable that he could be distracted now by something like that, something impersonal, and that it could make him feel all right, as if nothing had happened; as if the world were good.
He rather liked that clown hair; ah, the idiot brain again, he thought, that he could like something at such a time. Perhaps it was merely the exhaustion, the hunger and the sleep-depravation that made him feel all this idiocy.
She stopped in the doorway with him following her behind, as if she remembered something all of a sudden. "Before I forget, I believe you owe me a bottle of that wine of yours for that pitiable loss at Diamondback."
He drew a soft, contained laugh, "Consider it the prize for getting me out of that forsaken pit."
"Nonsense. I'm holding you for that mysterious prize. You can't go back on your word now," she said firmly.
"You are a terrible bluff caller and yet you still win at Diamondback. Will wonders never cease," he said flatly, shaking his head.
"So, you're a little charlatan, then? Manipulating me like that, making false promises to poor naïve girls," she said sarcastically, in a soft voice.
"Me?" he smirked, "Never."
"I'm failing to believe anything you say any longer," she said as she smiled and turned her back to him and went in the shop.
"Well, we can't have that now, can we?" he said quietly, containing his smile.
Sunset, Inside the horse-driven caravan, Somewhere in the Vimmark Mountains
"Mother of all bullshit, are we in some kind of race for who dies more quickly?" Varric asked in annoyance, as the caravan was hopping and shaking through the mountain paths and pebbles and they kept jumping from the bench.
"I could swear you are the one driving this caravan," Fenris said flatly, holding onto the bench.
"Oh, this is marvellous," Hawke said, drawing a ghost of a smile for the first time in days. "I feel like I'm in Ferelden again."
"Yes, it feels horribly similar," Anders said as his body hopped along with the caravan.
"Oh, come on, don't you miss it?" Hawke said warmly. "The wild evergreen forests, the brown, the cold, the hoppity horses!"
"Sadly, I didn't get to see much of it, since I was busy being imprisoned in the Circle and all," Anders said a bit angrily, but smiled at the sight of an entertained Hawke.
"You had enough time the seven times you escaped. Don't tell me you just wondered the taverns for a quickie in the limber box," Hawke said frowning.
"No -, well, not in the limber box," Anders said in amusement. "I've got much better secret places to do that."
"Well, you must show me sometime. My curiosity is getting the better of me," she said sarcastically.
"Oh, well, a beautiful woman and a dark alley, how can I refuse that," Anders said grinning.
Please let me hit him, Fenris thought as he recalled just how many times Hawke was about to but didn't get the chance. His sudden fascination and endless flattery towards her annoyed Fenris. Not for the obvious reason – the obvious reason would have been too obvious, but it was not, so this wasn't the case - but because Anders seemed a snake in all its glory and it was sickening to watch two people doing something remotely similar to getting along, when they seemed like the most different people, whose one common trait was perhaps the impending, but pointless fact that they were mages.
"Remember that song at least? With the horses?" she said childishly.
"Oh, how can I forget! Keep on galloping my black horse!" he said eagerly, becoming nostalgic.
"Well, don't just stand there and look pretty, sing with me!"
And thus began the strangest but fairly entertaining five minutes of Varric and Fenris's lives in that caravan, as Hawke and Anders sang in awfully different pitches the song of their barbaric ancestors all while the caravan stubbornly hopped and moved with great speed through the woods as if it were driven by the fierce cheetas of the Seheron jungles. Keep on galloping my black horse, carrying me to unknown shores! Through these outlandish woods and with confidence back home!
"Hawke's singing. Check the skies for flying pigs," Varric said sarcastically, masking his surprise.
A few hours later, or maybe the whole night later, they all but Hawke succumbed into deep sleep. Varric somehow landed with his head in Anders's lap and he looked so peaceful, sleeping like a baby. Anders was snoring and seemed terribly unaffected by the foreign object lying in his lap. Fenris was the most stubborn of them all and refused to sleep. He kept her company almost all night and she had no choice but to indulge his curiosity about the beauties of her mother country, the songs and the history, the great stratagems of King Calenhad she fiercely believed in and the smell of green everywhere, even in winter. He listened to her carefully and imagined it all, for the way she described everything with so much warmth and passion, he felt as if he were there himself, seeing, hearing and smelling it all. But his fatigue got the better of him eventually and he succumbed himself into the deep soft slumber we all needed at some point, as she hummed a song of her ancestors.
At one point, she started to get very bored and adorned Varric's sleeping face with all the weeds she knew were just too much – even for Anders – all while not feeling a thing. She tried not to laugh and wake them up, distracting herself excellently with her work.
As the sun broke free from the chains of the horizon, her eyes started to feel heavy and she landed straight onto Fenris's very sharp – now she felt - shoulder pad. She contained herself from going Motherffff- , but he woke up instinctively and saw the scratches it made on her cheek and she drew a big fat awkward fake smile. He did not say a thing, just pressed his lips bitterly, shook his head at her and smirked. He undid the strap, removing the one shoulder pad and went back to sleep.
5 days later, Sunrise, Kirkwall City Gates, 33 days since their departure
"Well, home sweet home," Varric said charmingly, getting out of the caravan and looking at the much more welcoming city than the blighted hole they lived in for a month. Kirkwall suddenly looked beautiful.
"I can't even imagine how many patients I've neglected," Anders said putting a hand to his forehead and started counting. "Oh, Maker."
"You won't see one dime from this treasure until my head meets a real sodding pillow first," Varric said as he grabbed his stiff neck.
"Reasonable choice," Fenris said flatly as he grabbed his stiff neck himself . He moved it sideways and it cracked, making Varric flip at the sound.
"Mother of sweet cheeses, you need a real bed more than I do," Varric said in amazement.
"This is nothing alarming," Fenris said nonchalantly. "I have lived through worse."
"Right, I keep forgetting you're a creepy former slave from Tevinter that fists people's hearts out if they have even the sheer impertinence of looking at you," Varric said and raised his hands. "Mister Fister," he said mischievously and Fenris frowned at him, but was too tired to pick a fight.
They flinched at the sight of Hawke jumping forcefully out of nowhere from the caravan with a refreshed look.
"Priscilla Tuffpants, fancy meeting you here," Varric said in amusement.
"Uh, pleasure to run into you, Chuckleberry Limbomaster," she said warmly and stopped as if she remembered something. "McFattso," she finished sharply pointing at him.
"For what it's worth Hawke, I'm sorry for what happened with your brother. Rest assured, if I ever find Bartrand, you'll definitely get a piece of him to smash instead of a soulless table. And he's not reimbursable for damages."
"Thank you, Varric," she said warmly. "You always know just what to say," she said, looking rather unaffected.
"I assume you'll be going straight home to tell your family about -," Varric said, but paused as Hawke turned to him with an unusual look, maybe homicidal, maybe haunted, maybe just hungry.
"No," she said abruptly. "I need to… pull myself together first. If I go in this state and I see my mother cry, I-", she said all while trying to remain unperturbed like a true soldier. "Just," she said, pressing her eyes, "no."
"No need to say another word, Hawke," Varric said warmly in a low tone. "You can take my gigantic bed today, I'll get another room."
Fenris hesistated, but took a step closer to them. "I have three beds. I mean, two vacant, free bedrooms."
"Hm," Hawke said in amusement. "What say you, Anders, have you got anything to beat that offer?"
Anders laughed, "I sleep in an improvised bed and while still terribly… comfy, it's still just the one."
"Mansion trumps tavern trumps shady clinic," she said in amusement. "You win," she said as she looked at Fenris.
"Well, since I won't see you anytime soon," Varric started in a bit of annoyance, "Quick business discussion in the middle of nowhere : if my time telling is correct, Satinalia's coming in a few days, which means the bazars are already opening and that's our perfect shot for selling all this stuff. Wow, it's winter already, shit. It's been what? Five months since I wai- ran into you in Hightown. Or is that six?"
"I don't know, but it really is a reason for celebration. We're gonna get so drunk… and it's Satinalia, too. Just imagine-," Hawke said eagerly.
"Slow down, Pantaloons. Merchant's rule number one: no mixing business with pleasure," he said charmingly.
Hawke struck a giant frown at him, as if she gave him a final warning telepathically.
"Ok, fine, for you Hawke, I'll make an exception," Varric said charismatically and reached to hold on to his jacket as if he was about to get hit.
"That's better," she said warmly and reached for two gigantic backpacks. In a clumsy reach, her greatsword slipped and was about to fall from atop the baggage.
In a split second Fenris caught it and frowned at her. "What?" she asked awkwardly and frowned back at him. "I was going to catch that."
"Keep telling yourself that," Fenris said firmly. "One day you might even believe it."
"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked assertively, putting the backpacks on and assuming an assaultive position.
"It means," he said determined and keeping his frown, "If you don't sleep, I'm going to kick you out of my house."
"Threats," Hawke said angrily.
"Oh, I'm beginning to crack up a story," Varric smirked mischievously. "In the dark of night, in the cold and relentless quiet of the abandoned mansion… Miss Priscilla Tuffpants just can't find herself to fall asleep," he started while gesturing dramatically.
Hawke crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to finish that sentence.
"She fidgets and turns from side to side in her borrowed bed, feeling the cold blanket, stripped of any sort of human contact."
"I'll give you three seconds to finish that sentence," Hawke said angrily.
Varric smirked, unaffected by her threat and continued , "She walks in the elf's bedroom and disturbs him from his eternal slumber and goes Monsieuuur, please tuck me in, I'm so cold and alone in that dark ghostly room."
"You're starting to sound like that pirate," Fenris said nonchalantly, shaking his head.
"Bah, it's just a tuck in. Don't project on me whatever dirty thoughts your mind's cracking up, elf," Varric said and grinned.
"There are no dirty thoughts," Fenris said firmly and frowned.
"Sure. And I'm a pretty fairy sprinkling little pink fairy dust with my pretty little pink fairy wand," Varric said sarcastically.
"You're a very odd dwarf," Fenris said nonchalantly.
Varric laughed, "And you thought I was joking about that pin." He continued laughing in his old man voice and started impersonating some Orlesian-sounding booger going all Monsieuuur, I would like to come out of your nose.
"I need to take a bath. 'Til June," Hawke sighed and shook her head.
Thank you for reading. I love you, guys! Act 1's finished and another one bites the dust. Uh, well. We'll see about that.