Varric wakes to an empty bed and the crinkle of parchment beneath his fingertips. Blinking his eyes into focus, he sits up, attempting to piece the night together. He remembers Hawke's voice barging through his dreams. Hawke standing outside of his room, eyes lost, the sweet smell of jam still on her breath. Varric, knowing immediately that it must've been a nightmare, restraining himself from pulling her into the room, worrying that any outward show of concern would only serve to scare her off.
He yawns, unfolding the sheet of paper left on Hawke's pillow:
Varric,
Alistair and I are leaving for Adamant with the bulk of Not-Knight-Captain Cullen's forces. I'm not sure whether or not I'm hoping to see you there. I would rather you stay in the safety of Skyhold, but then again, Alistair doesn't enjoy keeping score during combat. You keep mumbling my name in your sleep, and I'm not sure why. Can you also feel that unshakable bit of dread hanging in the air? It's supposed to feel wrong, with the Wardens and all, but things are feeling worse than they should. It feels like that moment when I realized that stopping Meredith meant cutting down Fenris, but amplified. Like I'm going to have to go kill an entire fortress full of Fenrises.
Now I've gone and made myself sad. But lately that's what I've been doing best.
Io
Absently, Varric traces the small scattered letters in front of him, his brow furrowing. Hawke was not one for talk of impending dread. She had always prided herself on her ability to roll with the punches. But this, Varric squeezes the bridge of his nose, this was something different entirely. He fears for a moment that the culmination of Hawke's anxieties have finally caught up with her, serving to drive her completely over the edge with unexplainable worry. It would certainly explain the mood swings, the push-pull way that she had been treating him lately, the Wyvern.
There is a knock at the door, and a scout informs him that Sparky needed him ready and in the courtyard in an hour. Varric tucks the note into his things before he slings his pack over his shoulder. He and Hawke would have time to sort things out after Adamant.
