My body is a cage
That keeps me
From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key
Fenris opened the Hanged Man's door and while the tavern's dim light, sour smell and drunk gibberish washed over him in a familiar wave of sensations, he scanned the crowd for any sign of slavers. Everything seemed normal - or, more accurately, just customary for this tavern, since "normal" never really described the state of this place. This time there was nothing resembling suspiciously heavily armed men or anyone foreign-looking around, so he already had taken a step inside, when his eyes stumbled upon a familiar silhouette. Hawke sat at one of the tables with a man in city guards' armor. She looked agitated and even a little flushed, she was listening with an accented interest to something the man was saying and then exaggeratedly laughed, shaking her head.
Fenris felt the air being kicked out of his lungs as if by a sudden punch in the chest. The first stiflingly hot wave that rushed in his head urged him to throw this guardsman right into the wall. The second bitter sting told him to walk to the table and just look into Hawke's eyes. He was at the third stage, about to leave right now and pretend nothing ever happened, including her fingers in his hand, when the mage looked over the crowd nervously, caught the sight of him and jumped up, beaming and waving her arms.
"Fenris! You're here! Finally!"
Finally?
"Heeey! It's me! What, did you walk into a Glyph of Paralysis, get over here!"
The elf walked up to her and slowly sat down in the chair that she pulled enthusiastically from under some unfortunate drunkard at the next table.
"You remember Donnic? The guardsman we – khmm – Aveline heroically saved from an ambush in the course of her brilliant investigation? And Donnic, this is Fenris, he was with us that night, if you recall."
Both of them regarded each other with long studying looks and cautiously nodded in greeting. The guardsman turned to Hawke and asked skeptically.
"So, it's him you wanted me to meet there?"
"Yeaaaah…" she said with the strained wide smile of an actor who keeps playing their role on a stage that is burning all around them. "You see, I promised to find Fenris a new partner for Diamondback."
Both of them stared at her with identical expressions of mistrustful surprise. She met Donnic's gaze with the same frozen smile and glass-clear eyes, and Fenris felt how under the table her nails frantically dug into his knee. He coughed, put his eyebrows down and made a vague motion somewhere between a shrug and a nod.
"I appreciate variety in a selection of game partners."
The hand over his knee relaxed, but didn't entirely let go, as if expecting more troubles to come.
Fenris breathed out. So obviously Hawke wasn't flirting with this man, but actually arranging some sort of scam. For a second he wondered when his priorities went so wrong, that he considered the mage's fraud involving the city's authorities to be a relief.
"But I told you I play Diamondback only ten minutes ago." Donnic said suspiciously. Hawke's smile had become maniacally cheerful, and Fenris's knee was squeezed and shaken feverishly.
"Well, you know, you just look like the type. There's something about you that just told me you definitely play it…"
"She can be a great judge of character," Fenris said, but couldn't stifle the specification. "If magic is not involved."
Hawke turned to him, rolling her eyes.
"You had to bring it up, yeah? You just couldn't help yourself. How did you even survive the whole day without me to pour out your frustration?"
"It was easy, considering I've encountered the main source of my frustration only a minute ago."
"And really, it's my judgment that is prejudiced? If I'm a black kettle, then you're the inside of a raven's ear in the darkest hour of night in the coal mines of the Deep Roads... "
"Ah, so you two are together!" Donnic announced suddenly, grinning, and Fenris involuntarily blushed. "Can't mistake an old-married couple's fight for anything. Good, for a moment I thought you tried to set this up as a date."
"Ahahaha," Hawke forced out hysterically and there was terror in her eyes. "No. Nope, nonono, nooo..."
"If she hasn't called you "bloody idiot" at least once, she isn't interested," Fenris interrupted her feverish flow of denial and Donnic laughed.
"I see. I'll give you some time then and go refill my mug and get us a deck of cards. Ale for you?.."
The mage raised her eyebrows questioningly at the elf, and when he nodded, said "No, ask Corf to get "Dragon's Daughter" from Hawke's reserve."
"And two cups?"
"Nah, we drink from the bottle."
The guardsman grinned again and walked to the bar without asking if they need separate bottles. Hawke followed him with tense gaze, then groaned and hid her face in her palms "I will kill Aveline, I swear!"
"Care to elaborate?"
"Well, let's see. What would you think if someone comes up to you and gives you a copper relief of marigolds with no explanation?"
"That this makes no sense, so probably this thing is enchanted or cursed with blood magic. I would interrogate the one who brought it to me to find his connections with slavers."
"Riiiight… Let's add some context then. Let's say Varric comes up to you a few weeks ago and gives you… hmmm… no, copper full-sized hawk is too delirious… gives you a coin with a hawk engraved on it. What would you think then?"
"That you've probably lost your last grains of sanity and started to mint your own coin, and I apparently should stop you before the Templars track you down?"
"How very caring of you." She huffed and tried to nudge him, but hit the edge of his chestplate with her elbow and hissed painfully. "But back to the marigolds. Their meaning is… and I quote here… "Metal is strong. Copper ages well. Flowers are soft."
Fenris blinked "It's a chain of truthful unrelated statements that doesn't have to do with anything."
"I know, right? I mean, I came to her office as she asked and right away she tells me "Go give this to Donnic and don't ask any questions, it's so important I can trust only you." And of course I was excited! I thought it was "cloaks and daggers" intrigue, that this guy will give me some password or direction to go, that we're hunting a spy or something like that! So I walk up to him and give him this garbage, and of course he's like "What the fuck is this?" And I stare at him and go "Um, I'm sure it's something very meaningful." And we both obviously thought that I'm an idiot, so I just retreated back to Aveline and redirected his question at her. And all she told me was that bullshit about strong metal and soft flowers!"
"I still can't see how strong metal and soft flowers lead you to drinking with him in the Hanged Man." Fenris reminded her softly. He always was secretly pleased that usually overly-confident and witty Hawke, when really distressed and confused, would throw lengthy, unfiltered complaints at him. Before lately, when he wasn't sure if Hawke liked his company at all, he knew that even if he couldn't be pleasant and sociable, at least she valued his direct and honest opinions. It gave him some reassurance, because when people complained about his unbearable sourness and tried to change subjects, as if he could only be tolerated for his unique combat skills or arguably attractive physical appearance, she accepted him as a whole. And maybe he wasn't easy-going and light-hearted as others, but she relied on him when she was thrown off balance or wanted to discuss something seriously.
"Oh, wait for it, we're just getting to the interesting part. Aveline didn't stop there; she made me basically stalk the guy. Like, I should go, do something ridiculous, then watch his reaction and report back to her, she would panic and send me to do something even more ridiculous."
"Aveline?Panic?Unusual, but clearly important."
"Yeah, so I did it for her, because I do stupid shit for friends if they ask me, but then she got to "You'll take three goats and a sheaf of wheat to his mother", and there I said that I draw the line. What? Why are you smirking? Do you realize that I'm not even physically capable of handling three goats and a sheaf of wheat? And if I haven't talked her out of it, you'd be so going to that goat parade with me."
"Once again we're saved by your eloquence."
Hawke nudged him again, and he shifted to get the metal edge of his chestplate out of the way. She hit his ribs, gulped, and immediately the healing warmth ran soothingly over his side. He waved his hand dismissively to show that it was nothing, so she relaxed and made a face at him.
"So how did you talk her out of it?" Fenris asked, trying to fight a grin.
"Oh, I managed to discover that it's a dowry tradition."
"A dowry? Then… this isn't about accusations."
"Yeah, it's all apparently Aveline's idea of courtship rituals."
"But she was married, wasn't she?"
"She was! I don't know, maybe her husband made the first move, or maybe she lived in some… community, where you send copper marigolds to a guy and three goats to his parents and the next day you two just meet in the church and get married. She says that now she's so uncomfortable because she's a Captain, and it would look like taking advantage of a subordinate. So I told her to ask him out somewhere neutral."
"Good point. If existing relationship prevents a new one, go somewhere you are equal."
"But of course she's too scared to ask herself, so she made me invite him here. I walk up to him and he's eyeing me suspiciously, like "What does this weird woman want from me now", and I tell him that he should meet someone this evening at the Hanged Man, wink-wink. And guess what? She chickened out! She didn't show up! Argh! So we just sit there in the most awkward silence imaginable, and Donnic constantly tries to escape, and I don't let him, buying another round of drinks and wishing I knew a spell that can make earth yawn open and swallow me to save from this embarrassment. And on top of everything he obviously started thinking that I'm interested and… thank the Maker, it was you who showed up!"
He stopped even trying to hide a grin.
"So, what now?"
"Well, just play few rounds with him. Don't worry, I'll compensate your loses."
His smirk vanished when he raised his eyebrow at her.
"Compensate my loses? You assume I will lose?"
"No, it's not what I..."
"Your healer owes me a fortune despite the fact that I try to avoid his presence as much as possible."
"Huh, Anders owes my dog a fortune, he's really not the biggest challenge. And you know, isn't pretty much all that the guards do is playing cards? There's nothing shameful about losing to the guy if it's his second specialization…"
His pride was stung and Fenris wasn't even sure why, but for some reason the thought of her giving someone else more credit than him was really irritating.
"If you have such faith that this man procrastinated on his job enough to reach an unbeatable height of card playing, maybe you should put your money on him, because I don't need..."
"Maker's breath, stop! I cannot believe we are arguing over this! Go ahead, strip the guy of all his money and undergarments, of course I'm rooting for you! I was just saying that if by some tragical glitch in the world's order he manages to win, I'll back you up. "
He huffed and folded his arms, but smirked again.
"Just don't forget that our prior goal is not to ruin this man, but to bring him and Aveline together. So we need to… advertise her."
"How, exactly?"
"Oh, just say nice things about her. But, you know, do it subtly and naturally. Smoothly, so it's not right in the face. Just hints here and there."
At this moment Donnic returned to the table, and Hawke made a smile from ear to ear and said "So, Aveline is great!"
He was a bit uncomfortable at first, having to sit in the crowded place with his back open, but Hawke caught his glance and made them change seats to the table in the corner, claiming that she wanted to play a shadow theatre. Then she confiscated Fenris's left gauntlet on the basis that it's angles poke at her side and also this is "the only chance for this miserable combination of feathers and claws to make any sense" by imitating a shadow griffon. Fenris let her take it without raising any objections, warmed by a familiar wave of awkward gratitude, as always when she covered his insecurities in public by her pretendingly childish whims.
Donnic turned out to be a decent man and a good player, though unfortunately Fenris was too distracted to fully appreciate it. Hawke wasn't pestering him and somehow now it was a problem. She refused to play cards and instead narrated the adventures of Puffy the Griffon, using mugs, wine bottle, candles and other convenient objects as improvised props. Joyful and mischievous, laughing and trying to keep the elf's gauntlet from slipping off her arm, she brightened everything around her like a flickering candlelight. He could catch faint notes of her smell - herbs and heated wood, and with the tavern's sour and stifling air, the thought of burying his face in the soft ruffled waves of her hair was more than just tempting. He remembered how warm and pliant and wonderful it felt when she fell asleep at his side on the last Satinalia, but then he didn't dare to even press his cheek against her head on his shoulder.
It was frustrating as if on a morose foggy day a ray of sun fell on the spot right next to him and lingered so close that his skin itched for the warmth. But other than in cases of emergency, Hawke always kept the distance he'd himself set, and unfortunately, years of staring contests let them channel just about any message, but not the "I want you in my arms" one. But if one wanted to feel sunshine, they should move under it's rays themselves. It was logical and so simple, and yet Fenris was driven into a hidden helpless rage by his own maddening inability to even put his arm around her shoulders. The dissonance between how much he wanted and how paralyzed he became at the mere thought of actually doing it left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Donnic attributed the elf's grim expression to him having shitty cards, bet huge and lost, but Fenris still couldn't manage a smile.
He took a deep breath, raised his arm, panicked and instead covered her hand on the bench between them with his palm. Hawke gazed down in surprise, but then she looked up, smiled brilliantly and laced their fingers together, and suddenly, the tight knot between his collarbones turned into a soft ball of light. He looked away from her hastily, but a wide grin fought it's way onto his face anyway.
Donnic saw his struggles, said "Screw it, you'd gotta have the best hand to beam like that" and folded.
Hawke leaned into Fenris ever so slightly, with the lazy grace of a curious cat checking out his cards, rubbed her thumb against his skin under the table and murmured innocently "Yeah, he's got the best hands, this lucky bastard."
Fenris blushed from his ears' tips down and he wasn't sure it stopped even at the neck. Donnic grinned and shook his head at them.
For some time he just sat quietly, savoring this touch, greedily, almost feverishly trying to capture all the sensations to be able to invoke them later, because it was not going to last. It felt so pleasant, and when anything remotely good happened to him, it was tainted by guilt, shame and fear, or was going to end soon and very badly. It didn't have to be a disaster this time, though, because soon Hawke would break it herself. He didn't even think about it, Hawke was restless, impulsive and switched her attention between things constantly. She'll need to take a sip from the bottle or make a new shadow, and she'll take her hand away without even noticing something so simple and trivial. Resigned, but still tense, he waited and counted the seconds, caught in a distressful rhythm of "Next second, it'll end next second… Oh, it didn't. Then the next second, it's fine, it's nothing, I don't care… It's still there and she's smiling... Then the next second..." Then he noticed how Hawke scratched her nose against her shoulder, and anxiety struck him, making him let go of her, though he couldn't bring himself to move his hand away. She put up with discomfort, but didn't move because he clung to her pathetically, and pity was something he couldn't bear, especially not from her.
She looked up at him, but Fenris pointedly stared at his cards. Then her hand finally moved, but hadn't left. Slender fingers slowly slid up from the base of his palm until her fingertips found his. This gentle movement kicked the breath out of his chest, which usually required at least an Ogre's charge, but had happened already twice this evening.
It was a reenactment of that accident in the Bone Pit Mines, when he caught her wrist and she pressed her palm against his, but he couldn't lace their fingers. An echo of the lost opportunity, a second chance at something he never thought he could have any chance to begin with. He didn't think she remembered it and he was sure up until now it didn't mean anything to her. He bit the inside of his lip and intertwined their fingers, this time without the disguise of an accident, and she squeezed his hand, smiling radiantly.
They sat like that, hand in hand, for the rest of the evening. She trailed patterns on his skin, lighter than a breath, and, for the first time Fenris could remember, his markings simply didn't matter, ignored and over-written by her fingertips. If he hadn't watched her for years, he'd swear she was using blood magic, because his heart's speed and inappropriate blood rashes were entirely too unproportional for such an innocent caress.
Watching her cautiously from the corner of the eye, he slowly drew a circle on her skin with his thumb. Her fingers gave a brief tremble in his hand and her eyelashes fluttered like the wings of an agitated bird. Then her own thumb circled his and she threw a quick, glowingly amber glance at him sideways - a reminder that this bird's wings are made of fire. He suddenly felt drunk, though he barely touched the wine this evening.
Then a strange realization hit him - it was the first time when he actually shared this simple gesture with anyone, just because in all his years of being taken advantage of and going through every imaginable humiliation, nobody ever bothered to demand it from him. He was a piece of flesh made valuable by lyrium under his skin and his excellent combat skills, so why would anyone care to just hold his hand. But she was there, warm and sincere and radiant, as if she was actually enjoying this and not just settling for it because he couldn't offer her more. Fenris always had to fight and claw his way for everything that was trivial for others and the idea of just reaching out for someone seemed ridiculous in it's improbability. But with her he didn't need to drum feverishly like a fly against the glass to be considered worthy of response, he knew he wouldn't be ignored and even - absolutely an unfathomable concept - he could count on a positive response.
He realized that this intoxicating lightness in his bones was a feeling of safety. Of being able to choose his own pace, not worrying about being used or mocked, and affecting her just as much as he was affected. Of not being an object.
He squeezed her hand gingerly, received a responsive caress of her fingertips alongside his palm and smiled. Donnic cursed and, unintentionally deceived, folded again.
"So, is Bianca visiting her mother and I can finally spend a night in the enchanted chest hair forest?" Hawke was moving around Varric's room in dancing gait of hers, which she had when she was drunk or amused enough to be distracted from the weight of endless quests on her shoulders.
"Unfortunately, she left it filled with traps."
"Oh, I admire her resourcefulness."
"Hawke, we need to talk," Varric made a necessary dramatic pause "About Athenril."
Hawke stopped in her tracks and the corners of her mouth went down so quickly that it looked like her smile was turned upside down, but she pretended to not get the question "Who?"
Dear girl, people whose bluff is worse than yours are as rare as lyrium-branded moody elves.
"You know, the one who ambushed us today at the square in front of the Blooming Rose."
"Thugs jump on us all the time. What's so special about this one?"
"Well, first of all, Athenril is not a common thug. She has an established smuggling business and most of the time tries to not get blood on her hands. At least not if she can help it."
"Well, maybe she got tired of robbing orphans and decided to do something exciting."
"And she was screaming your name."
"Oh, really? I didn't notice. Woohoo, it seems I'm getting a real recognition in this city! Good job, Varric, people can identify me just from your descriptions!"
"Hawke."
"Varric. Now you say Hawke again."
He just gave her a stern glare. She sat down and rubbed her neck.
"Duh, okay. I have a bit of history with Athenril. You know I had to spend a year in The Red Iron's servitude to get in the city, right? Well, I actually had a choice between Meeran and Athenril. I chose Meeran, because though The Red Irons do bloody work, at least most of the time you fight against bandits or mercenaries, people who know what they signed up for. Bullying storekeepers and blackmailing widows is really not my style."
"Don't try to tell me she was offended that you chose Meeran and tried to kill you years later."
"Of course not. The thing is, I talked to her and as a test she sent me to shake gold out of a local merchant. The guy was a complete asshole, milked refugees for their last money. So I got two sovereigns from him and I kept them and went to Meeran. And I don't feel bad about it at all, because both of them weren't innocent lambs and I needed to provide for my family in the foreign city. So, that's it."
Varric studied her, rubbing his chin "And she waited for years and then openly attacked you, aiming for murder? This doesn't sound like her. I'd say Athenril would ambush you alone in the dark alley within a week and try to mug twice as much gold as you owed her."
"I don't owe her shit," Hawke grunted and folded her arms. "And I'm not responsible for her acting stupid."
Varric sighed. Time to switch tactics.
"Hawke, I'm not asking this out of curiosity. You see, Athenril is kind of a big player in certain criminal circles, so people are asking me if you want to take over her business or did you became some mad vigilante to fight crime or..."
"Maker's balls, no!Nothing like that!"
"Then tell me the truth so I can tell them the most convenient lie and cover it up."
She gave him a long wary look.
"Promise you won't tell anyone, not those criminals, not in your tavern stories and especially not to anyone in our merry band."
"I swear on my neck-chain. Now spit it out."
Hawke sighed heavily.
"She did ambush me within a week in a dark alley alone and demanded gold. I told her to stick it, she started threatening me, we argued and called each other names, things became... tense and... um, hot, and we..."
"Got into a fight?"
"No. Well, yeah, but it was just a part of... the process, not the main... act."
Here Varric got it and clapped his hands.
"Oh no! You didn't just screw her up, you screwed her! Rivaini would be so proud of you."
"Well, unlike Isabela, I don't like killing people I've slept with."
"Yeah? I thought you said you don't like killing people you respect."
"I don't sleep with people who I don't respect."
"Nice borderline. What happened after?"
Hawke shrugged. "She would appear once every few months, we'd have fun and she'd disappear again. That's it."
"How is it that I've never knew?" After the initial excitement over juicy news Varric's pride of information broker was somewhat stung.
"Well, she's a smuggler. I guess she's better at her job than you are at yours." Hawke leered, obviously taking a small revenge after her embarrassment.
"So what ruined paradise in the dirty alleys?"
"She showed up few days ago and I told her we need to stop. For some reason she didn't take it well, though I even offered her ten sovereigns for the two that I got from her back then."
"I wonder why she wasn't thrilled. The only other thing you could do for her was to send good references to the Blooming Rose."
"I didn't mean it that way! I mean, she's an interesting person for sure, I do respect her and her attempt at keeping an ethic code even if I can't accept the things she does. But I realize that I have no right to judge her when she managed to get herself into a position of power despite unfair social disadvantages. To become so influential, being a woman and an elf, in our fucked up world is really worthy of respect. I do not wish her harm, that's why I didn't kill her last time, but if she keeps attacking, I'll have no choice."
Varric drummed his fingers on the table thoughtfully.
"I'll try to contact her and smooth things over. She's usually a very reasonable woman, perhaps when the anger fades, she'll listen."
"Thank you, my friend." Hawke said heartily and rubbed her temples. "I don't understand why she's so mad at all. It's not like we had a meaningful relationship or something. We didn't even talk! Well, apart from namecalling and threats. It was purely sex."
Varric sighed. Hawke is too direct and self-absorbed for subtlety.
"Sometimes people can't voice their feelings. They imply it in casual words or in their actions, but never say it out loud."
"And how am I supposed to know? I'm not a blood mage, I can't read minds!"
"You'll notice if you feel the same."
"Bullshit." Hawke muttered stubbornly, looking like an angry child who just discovered that fire burns and you can do nothing about it.
"Anyway, why have you decided to end it now?"
"Urgh, well, I'm a respectable citizen now, one of the nobility, so I, um, can't allow back-alleys affairs with criminals spoil my reputation."
"Really?"
She met his eyes with a daring look "Why else?"
Varric cleared his throat. "Well, people say you and the elf, you know, the angsty Tevinter one, are becoming quite the item."
"The angsty one? You mean there is a non-angsty Tevinter elf around? What, Fenris has a cheerful evil twin and nobody told me?"
Varric rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean."
"I just find it funny that when you're concerned about someone, you're trying to hide it by describing them in the most generic stereotypes. Like if you call them by names, people can think you care, and you're too cool for this."
"You're switching the subject."
"You too. But well, okay, I did tell him there's no one else."
"You realize that if Athenril managed to hide all her tracks so even I didn't know, then the elf would never find out?"
"It's not my style. And...he doesn't deserve those lies. It's important for him and to meet honesty with low tricks would be... Besides, this thing with Athenril was getting old anyway. Sure, rough kisses, fights, deep scratches, bites and burning hickeys are fun, but..."
"Sorry, burning hickeys?"
"I'm a fire mage, Varric."
"Oh, right."
"So, hate sex is fun for a time and a great way to release tension, but it starts lacking fuel after a while. Fights over two sovereigns lose meaning and purpose soon, you know. Just passion and lust is not enough for me."
Varric generally approved of her and the elf getting together - if anyone could make him laugh, it's Hawke, it's useful for her to have a critical counterpoint to her hot-headed idealism, and, again, anything to divert their attention from endless wrangling about magic. But there was danger of some common illusions on Hawke's part. The last thing the elf needs is an image of a mysterious lone wolf looming over him. But Varric knew that the best way to break the appeal of a romantic vision is a ridiculous comparison.
"Listen, as your friend, I feel I'll be doing you a bad service if I didn't say something. You do know the elf is covered in spikes, like an angsty porcupine? He might have some… issues."
"I was thinking of an angsty hedgehog, actually. They're much more adorable."
Varric chuckled, shaking his head.
"You can't be romantic to save your life, Hawke. And...adorable? Are we talking about the same Fenris or are evil twins are really involved?"
Hawke titled her head a little and looked at the dwarf from under lowered eyelashes, all calm judgmental grace of nobility that sometimes arises in her.
"I'm talking about the brilliant sarcastic guy with the most radiant smile..."
"What? He never smiles!"
"...who is so lonely and harsh on himself that he thinks there's no one who'd care to see him smiling."
Varric shut his mouth before making a sound, and Hawke leaned towards him with a small smirk, still managing to keep her chin high, and continued just as serenely.
"But he smiles at me sometimes, and I'm not gonna pass it up."
Varric accepted it with a grin and a shrug, and she sat back, instantly losing her regal posture and tone.
"And heeeey, I can be romantic when I want to!"
"Yeah, name me one romantic thing you did."
"Well, I... listened to love poems for two hours straight last week."
"Oh, from that guy here, in the Hanged man, who "courts" Isabela? "Your lips are like the wings of sparrows. Red no feathers."
"Yeah! He asked my advice, since I'm her friend, and I told him to go with insects metaphors more. I can't wait to hear what he'll come up with, this guy is priceless!"
"That's not romantic at all, Hawke."
"Huh? And what will you say if I listen to our poet and tell him that his most golden lines are bad, so no one else would ever hear them?"
"I'll say I'm writing a book "The most romantic blackmailer" about you."
"That's more like it."
"Oh, come on, there should be at least one good stick somewhere..." I muttered, stumbling around the flower-bed. Bloody Hightown, you can't find a decent stick, everything is spiky, frail or so exotic you can't be sure your dog can chew on it without being poisoned or turned into a parrot.
"There are certainly quite enough sticks to be extracted from local residents, but they come from places you'd better not let your dog taste."
I laughed and straightened up, turning to face Fenris, who sat on a bench near the flower-bed. We waited for Aveline to go on patrol with Donnick, but she couldn't muster the courage to tell him they're going together the whole morning. At first we were hanging around the Viscount Keep, but then Varric told us that we two should be less noticeable. Fenris said he's sorry he doesn't have proportions to be covered by a chair, I smirked and Varric told us to get out and wait nearby. So we found this little court between Hightown mansions with a good view of the Keep's gates, and I scared away two judgmental noblewomen with my Fereldan Barbarian routine.
Fenris smirked at me and rolled his shoulders back lazily. There were painfully cracking sounds, like an avalanche of small rocks bumping between cliffs.
"Maker's breath, Fenris! I've heard undead skeletons make more healthy sounds with their joints!"
"Then I apologize for the unpleasant noises during my vital functions."
"I mean, your back must hurt like mad."
He gave me a look of slight bewilderment that said Don't you know that life is pain?
"It's tolerable. I'm used to it."
"It doesn't have to hurt, you know."
There was another, more stern glare meant to remind me that maybe backs of privileged mages, who wear light robes and nothing in their bags, indeed don't have to hurt, because some warriors carry everything heavy for them alongside their own weapons, which weigh more than aforesaid mages. I groaned, rolling my eyes, and explained myself.
"I've raised a brother who carries those ridiculous two-handed weapons too, remember? And Carver is not one to stay silent about things that bother him."
"So I've noticed. We all were intimately familiar with the occurrence of a rock in his boot or your shadow over his self-esteem."
"Point is, I know what I'm doing when it comes to a strained back. Let me help."
"There's no actual problem. It doesn't affect my performance in a fight."
I sighed. He would follow you to hell without as much as blinking an eye, but a shoulder-rub offer unsettles him into the state of nervous clinking pyramid of class cups. It's probably because he's more used to being hurt than taken care of, so I reminded myself to be patient.
"It matters even if it doesn't... ugh, affect your functionality. It shouldn't hurt at all, you know." I felt stupid saying those completely basic and obvious things out loud, but he stared at me blankly, so I sighed and turned back to searching for a stick "Okay, if you ever feel comfortable enough to get a shoulder-rub, let me know."
This… whatever is it going on between us has to be the most confusing and weird relationship I've ever had. On one hand, I don't have to worry that he discovers something embarrassing or off-putting about me. We literally spent years criticizing every little flaw and acting like utter fools in front of each other. On the other hand, I don't have the slightest idea how I'm supposed to act. No patterns that I've encountered with any other people fit for Fenris. He's simultaneously proud, but insecure, direct, but awkwardly secretive about his own discomforts. And even if sometimes he's sending non-verbal signals that scream "Let's fuck right now", you have to remember he doesn't really mean it and probably doesn't realize it either. This pacing seems excruciating, especially with me painfully trying to stay in the "Let him know he has some option" zone without falling into "Pressuring him into doing it".
Rex was fidgeting around me, getting underfoot and trying to catch my eyes enthusiastically. I groaned.
"Look, I'm trying to find you a stick, really, and if you want it so badly, how about you go search for one too?"
Rex barked and ran away, and then Fenris' wary voice said behind my back.
"I guess it's worth a try."
"Nah, don't bother, Rex will find a stick or just steal someone's umbrella."
"No, I meant..."
"Oh," I turned around and met his eyes "Are you sure?"
He shrugged.
"It's unreasonable to not try improving your conditions if you have a chance, I suppose."
He was in his "hedgehog in a second before curling up" state that I haven't seen in such intensity since the first time I had to heal him in the Deep Roads. I circled him slowly, showing my bare hands and not making any sudden movements.
"Look, if you want me to stop at any moment, just say it. It may hurt just a bit, because your muscles are strained, but I'll try to make it painless." I usually say soothingly-reassuring stuff like this when I do something like pulling bits of shattered knife from a patient's guts, but the Darktown clinic taught me that everyone has their own threshold of panic, and for Fenris it's "someone is touching me". I remember comparing him to the ruins of an ancient palace once, but now I think he's more like those Antivian volcanos I've read about. They look like cold, unmoving mountains until one day their temper erupts and then it's all clouds of smoke and ash, and burning lava destroying everything around. After that, they cool down and start brooding, looking stern and unapproachable in their grim spiky rocks. But with time they start to open up a little, with soft grass coming up from under the ash, and it's unexpectedly beautiful. Once Fenris starts to trust you, his light and endearingly awkward tenderness show up in the most trivial things - glances, smiles, rare touches. Damn, he managed to make hand-holding an emotionally challenging process.
He nodded, a familiar jerk of the head when an invisible string is pulled. I slowly lowered my hands to his shoulders and was actually surprised he didn't flinch.
To call Fenris' back "tense" would be as much of an understatement as to say that the Orleasian Empress has a few fancy dresses. The neck of a criminal waiting for the executioner's axe to fall down is tense, and it's nowhere close to Fenris' stiffness. His back and shoulders were solid, unmovable surface. I'd need "Stone to flesh" spell before I can do anything productive with it. Part of my mind, responsible for provoking and stupid ideas, perked up immediately.
How about...
No!
But it should help, and you know you were dying of curiosity to see if it really works since the moment you've heard it...
No! He'll just freak out. Shut up!
I sighed silently and started stroking his shoulders, very lightly and slowly. It couldn't have any real effect, but I needed him to relax first. Use of healing magic would only alarm him more - and if he stiffens even a bit more, he'll turn into a gargoyle. And telling him to relax would have the same effect as shouting "Stop!" at a running thief. I keep telling Aveline that if she wants arrests to be more effective, instead of "City Guards, open now!" she should say "Prostitutes!" when she knocks.
"Tell me if something is wrong," he jerked upright, and I added quickly "No, it's just that I'm trying to find out if anyone is capable of coming up with something that isn't already in the Great and Overarching List of Carver's Complaints."
He turned to me ever so slightly, shoulders drawing back again slowly "I'm afraid I'll disappoint you on that."
"Oh well, I'm not really expecting anyone to succeed. I mean, how can you beat "Duuh, careful, I'm not your dirty rags that you're trying to wash" or "If that's how you grope your lovers asses, I pity the poor bastards." I said that I don't touch asses as pimpled as his back, and he threw a tantrum, stormed away and then Dad gave me the talk and I had to apologize, for my good taste, apparently. Oh, Carver's puberty was a rough time for the whole family."
My casual blabbering did help to ease tension, as I hoped, but that's not saying much. Going from adamantine to "just" iron doesn't really help the situation. I tried to knead his shoulders and realized that yeah, this is it, this is his normal, "relaxed" state.
Try it!
Go away.
Come on!
This back is a travesty. That's not how it should go to have any results. It should be without cloth, and with many herbal ointments and oils and healing spells and it should be the reconstruction of all of this tense misery up to relocating the joints, and I'd still not expect the results in the first couple of weeks. Maker's breath, if the first thing someone wants to do with you after getting you in bed naked is fixing your spine, you know you're fucked up really bad.
DO IT.
"Um, Fenris? I don't know if you're aware, but the muscles of your back are unhealthy strained, and by "unhealthy" I mean "Holy shit, how do you even live with that?" In the Darktown clinic I learned one spot behind elven ears that helps to loosen up quite efficiently. It doesn't hurt and it's not magic, so if you don't mind, can we try it?"
He didn't say anything, but there was an abrupt shudder as if his body reflexively jerked away from me, but he stopped himself at the beginning of the motion, and almost a hiss of breath being sucked in through clenched teeth. An agitated volcano trying to choke down an explosion.
"Oh, okay then, we won't try it, nah, it probably wouldn't do much good anyway." I said immediately, without waiting for his answer. He slowly exhaled and tilted his shoulders back to me.
"I… do not think that even if it's usually effective, it would help in my case," he said in an apologetic tone, glancing at me sideways.
"That's okay, as I've said, I won't do anything that makes you uncomfortable," I smiled with reassurance. "You don't have to explain yourself." He eyed me warily, but the stiff muscles under my fingers slowly relaxed again.
Being around him was like a painting with inverted colors, where the sky is black with green bushes of clouds and the earth is a mess of bright blue, dark purple and occasional lightning strikes of lava. Things that are usually tricky are simple, and things that are usually simple are complicated. I don't have a map of this volcano, sometimes I can't distinguish hidden cracks and traps, I can't even figure out the pace. I have to cautiously examine where I step to make sure it doesn't blow up or cave in, because this volcano is painfully aware of it's own weirdness. You set your foot down, feel the warning tremble, back the fuck off and then reassure your oversensitive explosive mountain that everything is ok. Then you wait until the ground stops shaking and try to move the other way, avoiding a sore spot.
After a few moments of silence he asked, obviously trying to change the subject and sound nonchalantly "You've learned it from Anders?"
"Nope, from an old elven hooker."
Fenris let out completely humorless and cold "Huh."
"No, really. She had a rheumatism strike in the middle of... her work, but she managed to make it to the clinic and I helped her. She insisted she has to repay me by revealing one of her secrets."
"Oh."
"Well, it was elven ear or dwarven tailbone, and I only barely managed to convince her that one of them is more than enough."
He laughed softly, the sleek muscles of his shoulders shaking slightly under my fingers.
"The thing is, people often want to repay you for kindness, and since they don't have money, - and I wouldn't take it anyway, - they share knowledge. By now I know all the places in the city where elfroot and deathroot grow, about twenty recipes for cooking rats and nugs, and how to train a fighting beetle."
"Valuable assets."
"There's also one dwarf, he's brought to the clinic after fights just about every week and I don't know how, but even unconscious he manages to bring flowers for me. He keeps telling me that if anyone ever bothers me, I just have to say the word."
"Should I be jealous?"
"Absolutely! The guy has ants in his beard and so many missing teeth that when he says "Guuurl, your bootiful", I'm not sure if it's bad pronouncing or he really means it."
He chuckled, looking up at me over his shoulder and leaning just a little into my touch. I brushed my fingers over the sides of his neck, way more fondly than I expected from myself, and got embarrassed over it. Luckily, at that moment Rex ran up to us with a stick in his teeth and started making circles around the bench, wiggling excitedly. I smirked and reached for it, but when my hands left Fenris' shoulders, he leaned down and took the stick first.
"I can do it, if you don't mind."
"Sure," I grinned to myself and ran my fingers down his spine. He arched his back just a little, let out a small low groan and then tried to cover it with this amusing half-chuckle half-cough, which he always uses to conceal his embarrassment. I grinned wider.
"This is astonishingly unregal behavior for someone with your name," the elf said strictly to Rex, who was jumping with impatience in front of him.
"What? Unregal?"
"His name is Rex," Fenris told me, as if it should've explained everything, and absent-mindedly threw the stick. Rexi launched after it immediately.
"Um... yeah, I'm well aware of this."
"Rex means "King" in Tevene. It was the title of the first rulers of Tevinter."
"But... There' are no kings in the Emperium, right, just magisters?"
"When humans first arrived, they had a dynasty of kings, which was later overthrown by the Court of Magisters. I thought you named your dog as... an ironic reference, did you not?"
This is the special kind of embarrassment - having to tell the guy who second-guessed your every decision for years that he gives you too much credit.
"No, but it does sound like something I'd do! Varric would love this version, he'll add something about me secretly being the last offspring of the dynasty and my great destiny and other stuff he loves."
"But... Rex doesn't mean anything in Common. Why did you give him that name?"
There are all kinds of stories that could be told about you, from "Awesome tales that can get you laid" to "Utterly embarrassing episodes of your childhood that you parents love to tell guests, because they think it's freaking cute." The story of Rex being named belongs to the last type, so I never tell it, especially not to people I want to be attracted to me. But, well, just three days ago Fenris had to pull me from dangling in a sticky giant spider's web – and it wasn't a solitary incident, but he's still here. If there's anyone to whom I couldn't disgrace myself more than I already have, it's probably him.
"When Dad showed him to us for the first time, Rex was a devastatingly cute fluffy ball with those adorable eyes that sometimes you... "
In the last moment I realized what I was saying and choked down "make".
"...can see him making even now."
Phew, that was a close one!
"Of course, we kids were gushing over him, and Beth asked what his name was. Dad said that the one he'd imprint on will name him. And then I... well, I asked him what his name, was and he made this cutely barking noise, like "Rrrrex!", so..."
"Wait," Fenris turned to me, looking up from under the raised eyebrows, "you asked a dog what his name was?"
"I was a kid! Kids are allowed to be ridiculous," he continued to stare at me, and I gulped "And sit still, please!"
He turned away, but tried to glance at me over his shoulder.
"And how did he choose you?"
I sighed.
"Dad put him in the center of the room, each of us standing few feet away. Carver was stomping his feet on the floor and screaming "Come here!" – apparently, it was his idea of showing strong character, Beth was hiding a chicken leg, and I just sat down and went "Rex, Rex!" He ran to me, probably because he thought I was a puppy too, just more stupid, we "rexed" at each other for the next half an hour, and well, the thing with an imprint was done."
I waited for him to laugh, smirk or at least make a sardonic remark, but he was silent for few seconds.
"You haven't changed at all since then, have you," his voice was soft and a little husky, a layer of enveloping volcanic ash with just teasing hints of glowing embers underneath.
"Look, you've got it all wrong from you flattery textbook. This phrase is for an old flame to complement her appearance after not seeing her for years, not to equate someone's level of mental development with children."
"I'm sorry. Obviously, standard textbooks can't do you any justice," he looked up at me with that maddening little smile, his eyes all gleaming and the deep enticing green of the forest's spring. I chuckled weakly. It's just confusing to receive a sudden flash of eyesex in the middle of exchanging sarcastic jabs and then go on like nothing happened, 'tis all I'm saying.
Meanwhile, Rex returned, but when Fenris tried to take the stick from him, the mabari apologetically wiggled his tail and dodged. I bit my lip to hide a grin. Fenris frowned and reached down again, but Rex jumped away, then circled the elf and run up to my feet.
"Why is this sudden outburst of loyalty?" Fenris asked, skeptically raising one eyebrow. Rex gave him a wheedling look, but stayed at my side. I couldn't help myself and burst out laughing.
"What? What is so funny?"
"You're throwing too far. When I make a throw, he usually manages to catch the stick before it hits the ground. For yours, he had to run for a couple of minutes." I leaned against Fenris' shoulders, chuckling and desperately trying to stop myself from burying my face in his soft disheveled hair. "I wouldn't be able to throw it with both hands half as far as you do without even paying attention."
"This laziness is terribly unbecoming for a noble beast of your status," the elf said with overly serious disappointment, and Rex tried to hide behind my legs from his reproachful gaze.
"I think he ought to be taught a lesson," Fenris stated, lifted his head and bumped into my chin. We both froze. It felt like my jaw was resting on the fluffy cloud that had an earthy smell of old leather, iron and, strangely, herbal tea. I waited for him to move away, but he didn't, and after a few moments I breathed out and relaxed my fingers on his shoulders. Without looking, I extended my hand and the stick's end poked at my palm immediately. Rex barked excitedly when I took the stick, but I just handed it to Fenris.
"So," the elf said, turning his head for a bit to look at the mabari, and his soft bangs tickled the underside of my chin. I grinned stupidly and got back to kneading his shoulders, and it took alarmingly too much of my willpower reserves to keep from burying my fingers and face in this silken cloud of hair.
Rex flattened his ears and made the most sorrowful look his big eyes could master, but Fenris continued firmly "You shouldn't try to elude exercises greater than you're used to, or how else will you become greater than you are?"
He swung his arm and the stick flew over the distant bushes. The mabari whined in resignation and ran after it.
"I usually walk him at least once a day" I said warily "You can join us. If you want to, of course."
"Yes, I'd like that," Fenris answered without hesitation, and I quietly sighed in contentment. Ruffled light strands of his hair quivered slightly under my breath and I grinned, glad that he couldn't see my expression and simultaneously a bit disappointed that I couldn't see his. Sure, all this tip-toeing is exhausting, but sometimes you stumble into a hidden meadow, and there's soft grass and sunshine and low melodical rumbling of warm streams, and suddenly it's all worth it.
This fragile thing between us is weird and confusing, but, hey, I still like it and I want to see what it can grow into.
A sudden outraged cry rang out from the other side of the court. I started and jumped up to look over the bushes.
"Oh, shit..."
"What is it?"
"Your stick just struck the magistrate."
"Oh. I didn't mean to..."
"Well, it's not gonna be his biggest problem. He's about to get a mabari charging at him at full speed."
There was a second cry, loud and terrified.
"Yeah, that's it."
"Won't he be harmed?.."
"Nah, Rex doesn't bite random people without a command. The most danger the magistrate is facing is being drooled over and slightly crumpled if he doesn't let go of the stick fast enough. I think we should execute a tactical retreat before Rex leads him to us."
"Wise decision."
Isabela put a final stroke into the carving she was making on the stairwell and straightened up with a sigh. Creamed poisoned buttcakes, where could Hawke have been? The pirate has sneaked into the mage's bedroom a couple of hours ago, got tired of waiting and had to re-enter the mansion through a proper door to ask where's Hawke. The elderly dwarf said that the Mistress is out walking her dog. Unless she's walking her mabari to her homeland in Ferelden, I can't imagine what's taking her so long.
Isabela never waited for anyone, unless it was an ambush. It was generally easier to just find someone else available at the moment. But firstly, Hawke always waited for Isabela, and secondly, she was one of a kind. Weird pyromantic kind, sure, but still.
Hawke's limits of acceptance were extraordinary. She had very few conditions of basic decency, like "don't hurt innocents" or "no slavery", and then she wouldn't have a problem with you unless you had a problem with her. Isabela, skeptical at first, tried pushing her patience to expose the border of this acceptance, waited for a disgusted label of "slut" to blurt out, but got only firm and annoyed "Izzy, I'm glad you had a great time, but I'm really not interested in details, so please spare me." The only time the pirate caught something resembling disdain was when Isabela asked the mage if she visits The Blooming Rose. She scoffed and said "I don't pay for sex."
It irked Isabela, so she set up a meeting in the brothel and purposely showed up late. She expected Hawke to be uncomfortable and tense around people she presumably despised, but walked in to a vivid discussion of different corset's producers. ("Tevinter is the worst! Makerdamned feathers everywhere! Antivian are great, but their suppliers won't even deal with you if you don't order it in a package with a poison set.")
With time, Isabela realized that Hawke really didn't care what you do with your own private life, but she herself never paid for sex. It was part of her peculiar brand of narcissism - she wouldn't sleep with someone who didn't enjoy it, and if they did enjoy, then why should she pay for it?
And that was a good thing too, because falling for Hawke would be too damn easy. Isabela understood that early on and kept herself in check all those years, since the moment she realized that she'd really follow this girl into the Deep Roads if she asked.
The reason was simple, really. In Hawke's presence, you mattered. She was like a fully weaponized battleship that some madman uses for transporting flowers. Equipped with a thick armor of self-confidence and capable of massive destruction, but genuinely, actively, terribly kind. That's why kittens let her take them down from the trees, small children stopped crying around her, and strangers ran up to her for help, ignoring guards. And if you were treated like shit your whole life and told that you're worth just a few coins, meeting this loyal, bright, sincere girl, who doesn't judge you and wouldn't sell you out even for a fortune, who will fight for you no matter the odds… It was intoxicating. You got used to Hawke covering your back. Then you started wondering how things could be different had you met her earlier. And then you were scared that one day she won't be here for you, because she got rich, moved into a fancy ancestral estate and she'll convince herself that she found her "True love", she might settle down, start making kids and then there wouldn't be anything tying her to some wretched pirate.
A door creaked and an enthusiastic mabari ran in, followed by an uncharacteristically flushed Hawke with an absent-minded smirk dancing on her lips and a book in her hands. She finally noticed the rogue and beamed.
"Isabela!Hey there!"
"You're taking a book to walk your mabari?"
"It's not for me!"
"You mean it's for the dog?"
"No," Hawke said and blushed. Huh, now I'm curious. Isabela moved smoothly to the mage's side and snatched the book from her hands, expecting something obscene. It was "The Legend of Calenhad".
Blushing over a historical book? I don't even want to know.
"So, what brings you here?" Hawke already steadied herself and grinned nonchalantly "You so rarely grace my humble residence with your delightful presence that I start thinking you don't like it."
"It's not bad. But I preferred the old place. It had... more charm."
"You're talking about the shack I shared with my mother, brother, and uncle?"
"I meant Lowtown. Dirty, chaotic, glorious Lowtown." Isabela grinned wickedly and slowly circled Hawke to lean suggestively against the wall. "The smell of tar and the sea, and the sound of some whore plying her trade in a back alley - don't you miss that?"
"But Hightown can be fun too! I didn't think I would enjoy noble parties, but it's hilarious to be an exotic novelty. I just walk around and act like I'm appalled at the most trivial things, and they panic. The other day I asked one snooty lady "Are you really going to drink that wine with this cheese?" and she almost choked. Though this doesn't work when Seneschal Bran shows up - you just can't out-snob that guy. With him I'm doing the Fereldan Barbarian, and he barely manages to restrain himself from strangling me." Hawke grinned with a strange combination of wistfulness and mischief that Isabela couldn't imagine on anyone else "But really, they are not all that terrible, mostly just sad people confused about their own importance."
"Hightown's nice enough, I suppose, for people who like clean streets and polite neighbors." Isabela grinned predatorily "But we're not like those people, are we? We play by our own rules."
She stepped up from the wall and moved slowly to Hawke.
"Speaking of playing… why don't we go off and have a little bit of… girly fun?"
"What? Like shopping?"
Isabela barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Hawke couldn't catch a hint until it's dead body started to smell.
"No, silly," the pirate wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and edged closer to the mage. "Us, together. Telling secrets, exploring each other's hidden… depths."
"Oh, a slumber party! Great, we should get Aveline here and tease her about Donnic!"
It took all of Isabela's extensive experience of keeping a straight face in card games and lying to authorities to keep herself from groaning, but she managed.
"Remember, last week you said to one bandit that you don't give a flying fuck about his threats? I just thought - you're a Force Mage, technically, you can give a flying fuck, right?"
Hawke stared at her blankly with a questioning half-smirk.
"I've never tried it. It sounds like fun," the mage still looked puzzled, with her head tilted to a side like bird. "Wanna show me how it's done?"
Hawke blinked a couple of times, then narrowed her eyes. She stared at Isabela for a few moments with her lips pressed into a thin line, then said coldly.
"I'm sure there are many force-specialists in the Circle who'd be thrilled to help you."
Isabela kept her face under control and when her lips twitched, she turned it into a careless smirk.
"Suit yourself. I'll just find my giggles elsewhere. No hard feelings."
The pirate managed to make it two steps behind the mage, when Hawke's short temper finally exploded.
"I thought we were friends!"
Isabela took a deep breath before turning around, but even her exceptional bluffing skills couldn't keep a smile on her face when she saw Hawke's hurt and downright offended expression.
"Oh, so I spoiled it?" the pirate heard sardonic bitterness in her own voice, but couldn't help herself "Because friends don't fuck?"
"No, because friends might fuck each other, but they don't fuck with each other," Hawke stepped up and pointed her finger at the rogue "I know you, Isabela. I know it takes you from three seconds to five minutes tops to decide whether you want to sleep with someone or not, and you're suddenly interested after three years? What changed about me that made me suddenly attractive for you? Why now?"
"I was going through every house on the way from the Hanged Man to here, so it took a while," the pirate said flatly.
"The first thing you said was that you liked it better when I lived in Lowtown. Then you told me that we're different from people in Hightown. And actually, the only thing that changed about me lately is where I live now."
"Yeah, you caught me. I was going to gold dig a new ship out of you."
"No, I think you tried to… what, make sure that I won't trade you for some noble snoots? Really? What did I do to make you think so poorly about me? We fought side by side for years. I've never pried into your past if you didn't want to talk about it. Even when you gave me bags of bullshit, like with that relic you lost and supposedly don't know what it is, or with your ship-wreck, or why you make up stupid excuses for never entering the qunari compound, - I've never dwelled on that, though I fully realize it's gonna bite me in the ass one day. I put up with all of that, but now you think I need a throwaway fuck to keep my loyalty going? That's what you want to make a basis for our friendship?"
You righteous golden fool.
"No, because it's impossible to buy you, right? And your friendship is priceless, because it doesn't depend on anyone's judgement, but yours. And you have the luxury of choosing what you want to get from different people - friendship, sex, love or everything at once. Probably because your mother didn't sell you for few coins and a goat." Hawke stumbled at this, her eyes widening, but Isabela couldn't stop herself just yet. "And in your perfect world, where everyone has the privilege of being whole, you can judge people for not meeting your standards of self-worth. And it never occurred to you, that maybe I know myself better and I know that it'd be better for you this way, because being loyal to me never brought anyone any good!"
Aw, fuck it.
The rogue turned on her heels abruptly and strode to the exit.
"Isabela, wait!"
Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it with a scorching fork…
"Just remember, that when one day you'll put someone already once broken under the pressure and they break again, it's partly your fault too!"
Isabela finally slipped into the darkness behind the mansion's doorstep and welcoming shadows hid her dependably, like they always did.
"Isabela! Dammit, get back here!"
Hawke's silhouette stood in the doorframe, illuminated by warm orange light of her house light. Isabela turned and walked away without looking back anymore.