HERE'S TO BREAKING THE 200,000 WORD COUNT
OH GAHD OH GAHD I'M SO EXCITED

And on another note, we have mixed feelings at the possibilities of seeing our Warden/Hawkes and/or LIs in Inquisition. Some think it's great, some think it's k, and one is afraid that they'll show up only for us to see them die (because THAT'S how BioWare rolls) (and now I'm scared) (please don't make me kill Zevran) (or Fenris ohgod)

Say something, I'm giving up on you
And I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you
And anywhere I would have followed you
Oh say something, I'm giving up on you.

"Say Something", A Great Big World

32. Slate

"Hello?" called a light, airy voice from my entryway. "Is anybody home?"

"Good day, serah," I heard the muffled voice of Bodahn greet. "Messere Hawke is in her bedroom. I'd kindly ask you to-"

Feet bounded up the stairs, cutting of Bodahn's request. "Hawke, are you in here?" she asked, voice muffled. Merrill opened the door, glancing around, shifting on bare feet. "Oh!" she exclaimed, spotting me. She crawled over to my spot on the floor, on her hands and knees, her lightly tattooed face poking into my hiding spot beneath one of my closets. "This is an odd place to take a nap, isn't it? But I suppose I can't talk; I've fallen asleep in strange places before. Once in a tree, another time in someone else's garden - but never mind," she said, realizing she was beginning to ramble. "I came to visit you because you haven't come out since you fell ill and I thought a trip somewhere nice and airy would perk you up. So do you? Want to take a trip with me, I mean."

It felt surreal, having a one-sided conversation with the slight Merrill while crouched under a closet. The Marian Hawke I had been in the past would have never imagined this taking place – and here I was, hiding from the world from under a closet, getting talked at by a Dalish mage with tattoos on her face and an accent that reminded me of daydreams.

If Merrill was anything, it wasn't threatening. I felt comfortable enough in her presence – not safe; I still checked the corners reflexively over her shoulder, but I didn't scream and run from her.

I winced at the reminder of the horrible way I handled Fenris' sudden presence when I had made an attempt to make amends.

Still in need of a push to get me back on track in my life, I wondered if maybe this was meant to be my first step.

So I nodded and crawled out from under the closet, obnoxiously aware of the fact that I hadn't spoken a word since I "woke up".

"We have been instructed to beat you brutally if we catch you trying to communicate."

The beatings had been worse when I could speak and cry out – especially to Fenris. When my mouth had been sewn, the game dulled for those who had been opposing me. I supposed I had learned that keeping my mouth shut would save me trouble – which is a lesson I could have admittedly used many years before now.

I rubbed at my hand, remembering the feeling of shattered and crushed bones.

After rising, I dressed quickly, in strong leathers in lieu of a robe, with a hardy staff at my back – all the while an unending stream of words entered the air by way of Merrill. I didn't mind it; it was company – company I had sorely needed.

We stepped lightly through Hightown, dodging crowds and nobles on our way through to one of the gates of Kirkwall that opened to the road directly to the coastline. It was a bright and handsome day, but I felt disquieted as we journeyed. The swirling of the Fade seemed close and reachable, but actually wielding magic felt drastic – almost upsetting to the balance of my mental state. It had been so long since I felt the raw power, the strength of magic flow through me – I didn't know if I could control it anymore. It frightened me.

The sand at the coast was hot and dry; Merrill stretched out her toes, languishing in the sun – so I did, too, removing my boots and basking in the nice day. It felt normal.

"It's so beautiful," Merrill said, stepping closer to the water. "We should have thought to bring Isabela. I bet she loves it out here."

I bet it makes her the strangest kind of homesick.

I stared up at a white, fluffy cloud, the sand underneath my feet taking me back to Fausta's house; a sandstorm, a party, two hearts meeting in an unlikely place.

"I can't imagine there will ever be a time in which I don't love you."

You were wrong, Fenris.

I had laughed at the time when he had said it, but the sentence sounded even more ridiculous in this time - a time where it seemed impossible for him to trust me – impossible for me to even be in the same room with him.

"What is that?" Merrill asked, taking a seat beside me. I turned my head to her, confused. "The song you were humming. It was pretty."

My face grew hot as I realized I had been idly humming You are my sunshine.

"Is it a sailor song?"

I could have laughed if I didn't feel so heartbroken all over again. I sat at her side with a heavy sigh breaching my lungs.

We had such a wonderful chance to be free; endless possibilities were linked to our fingertips and we had only to grasp at one to choose a path – we had love, we had each other, he was the sun in my sky and I his warmth, his lover who had skipped over from another time in order to be at his side.

Why couldn't that have been enough?

I heard heavy footsteps approaching on the sand. I lifted my head up, went to alert Merrill, but she was looking out at the ocean, silent and retrospective as she watched the waves.

"What brings you two ladies to the coast?" asked the man who casually stepped around a boulder.

I realized a little late that "normal" for us was getting attacked by slavers and bandits. It's impossible to have a normal moment without it also being life-threatening.

"It's a nice day," Merrill said pleasantly; but I got to my feet, brandishing my weapon – as useless as it seemed. Seeing me, Merrill did the same, alerted to the possible – inevitable - danger.

"Hey, whoa," the man said, throwing up his hands. "I'm just a weary stranger looking for a nice spot to sit. This look good?" he asked as more people closed in around us.

"The best," said a larger man to my right. I set my back towards the ocean – there were five bandits in all, nothing the two of us couldn't handle normally. But I wasn't feeling very normal.

"Stay back," Merrill warned, but her voice was a little too high pitched to be threatening.

I exhaled sharply through my nose – but felt the panic rise.

Fighting back means a worse beating.

I shook the thought away. There's no time for that.

A man advanced towards me and I used my staff in the exact way it wasn't truly meant to be used – as a club. It bashed him across the face, scraping his skin, bloodying his mouth, and splintered the wood of my weapon slightly. Merrill cast a spell beside me, freezing another man before electrocuting another.

I remembered taking a leap over a coliseum – controlling the inhabitants with magic – and felt intensely frustrated with myself for being so timid. Merrill's spells tingled through my spine and I heard the hissing of magic as she hurled it at our enemies.

I clenched my hands, knowing that magic was a second nature to me – knowing that if I just focused, it would come. But my fingers quivered and my magic felt shaky and unreliable – though the feelings no longer startled me – I couldn't concentrate. A man with a thick beard and an iron axe noticed me and began to barrel towards me position – I attempted to focus on my magic, to paralyze him - there was an axe swinging toward my face – I was afraid of what might happen if I unleashed something so hazardous, untrusting of my ability to control my magic. My fingers trembled and I flinched away - but a blur of blue blocked the axe, knocking it off course.

The man was pushed from me and stabbed through with a glowing, gauntleted fist as Merrill began to melt the ground with her magic, slowing the steps of everyone around us – the sparks of power leaking from her spells seeped into me, burning my concentration, making me slightly dizzy; I clutched my head, trying to breathe, to stay upright, feeling useless.

"Fenris!" Merrill yelled after the screams of the falling died out. "Did you follow us? Ma serannas, we would be in trouble if you didn't."

I felt faint from the tugging and pulling of magic; a small hand on my shoulder steadied me.

"Did you see us leaving Hightown?" Merrill asked, shouldering her staff. "You must have been worried. Rightfully so, I think; I should have expected something like this to happen."

"Yes, you should have," Fenris said, voice hard. I flinched. "I need to speak with Hawke."

"I understand, but –"

"Leave us."

"But – Hawke –" Merrill stammered, looking to me; my eyes couldn't leave the ground. "I – very well, if you insist, I suppose I can… walk over there...if you're sure?"

I didn't respond. She left us – and my heart pounded, waiting for an attack, for blows.

Blows that came in the form of a voice.

"What have I done to deserve this treatment?" Fenris asked, voice hard.

I couldn't run – couldn't move from my spot, rooted with bare feet into the shifting, unsteady sand. The wind picked up, pricking my face with the sharp granules.

"Speak, Hawke," Fenris ordered, taking a step closer to me. "Say something."

My entire body flinched away from his advancement – during that instant, my eyes glimpsed his tattoos – without them there, I could almost imagine that this was my Fenris, the one that I had loved -

And the tears came. I hadn't known there were that many left – but I couldn't stop them, no matter how hard I held my breath or tried to calm down. Fenris' hands reached out to me, but he pulled them back before even the tip of his blood-spattered, pointed gauntlet could touch my skin.

I remembered a time when Fenris loved touching me – Leto?

Was that even his name?

Did I ever even love him?

That Fenris – Leto, the man to whom I had offered my heart - never existed, and I wept for him, the one memory that I wished to be real – it cut me deeply, knowing that it had all been a figment of my imagination.

No one could ever love me like that, could they?

"What did you do?" Merrill asked, sounding far away. I could hear her bare feet hitting the sand.

"I – don't know," Fenris said. My knees wobbled, but I refused to go down.

I'm supposed to be the strong one.

"What happened to you?" Fenris asked, voice little more than a whisper, low and rough. "Why won't you speak?"

I raised my fingers to my mouth – the string was gone, but my words were clumsy and unconfident, like my magic. I couldn't make myself say a word in response.

I can't.

I can't do anything.

We stayed that way, for a while – with nothing but the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks to fill our ears as they watched me try to calm myself. I stared at the white sand beneath our feet, my arms clasped around me. My gaze fell onto a lyrium-dotted foot, so odd yet so familiar – and I fought not to lose myself to the nightmares, to the memory of that same foot breaking my bones.

It wouldn't be unjust for it to do it again.

I felt low; as if I held everyone back, crippled all improvement. Fenris and Merrill awkwardly stood around me as I tried to tame my crying, hating myself, hating what I had become – hating how I treated those who only ever wished to aid me.

After a while, we began our journey back to Kirkwall – a nice day ruined by me and my issues. We walked in silence – but I held myself well, walking beside the man who ruined me – the man whom I ruined.

Merrill diverged away when we reached Hightown, mumbling her apologies and thanking me for walking with her. I sensed that she was embarrassed and felt horrible for the whole thing.

Fenris, however, walked me straight to my front door – carrying my boots. My hands shook when I realized that it was only the two of us, walking side by side in the streets together towards my home.

Should I invite him in?

Can I invite him in?

What does he want me to do?

I debated and fought with myself, trying to be strong. I never answered any of his questions – never truly confronted him, even though I had tried to tighten myself, make myself stronger and approach him. He had kept an eye on me, had kept me safe in a hazardous situation even though I couldn't even manage to say one word to him.

Why?

Because I've helped him before. Because he feels indebted to me.

My body warred against that feeling – unworthy. I'm not worth his trouble.

We made it to the front door of my house; the sun set low in the sky, slanting light over us. Our shadows grew long beside each other, without an inch of them touching one another – I stared at them, scared of moving forward, of inviting him in – of him making a move.

Fenris looked as if he wanted to say something. I couldn't manage to look into his big, green eyes – but I noticed his sloping mouth, slightly opened, ready for speech. He seemed as if he wanted to reassure me, to ask forgiveness or perhaps repeat one of his earlier questions – but his pride wouldn't let him speak, as so many of his words had been wasted on me. His eyes swept away – not down, but to the side.

I felt upset with myself for displeasing him – out of anyone in the world, he was the one person I didn't want to hurt.

Fenris closed his mouth, his white hair catching red in the dying light of the sun as he tilted it forward. His arm reached out as he offered my boots to me. Looking down, I received them, feeling small.

I paused when I reached for the door handle. Fenris turned to leave, head slightly down with his normally slouched posture, heading towards his dilapidated mansion.

"Sorry," I whispered, barely audible in the dull cacophony of voices echoing through Hightown. His right ear twitched and I turned, immediately sliding through the door and shutting it tightly behind me. My back rested against the wood of the door as I began to hyperventilate, unable to get enough air in my flustered state.

I walked, tripping over my feet, shaking through my thighs, until I made it to my bedroom – where I promptly clutched my pillow to my chest until the shaking stopped.

-E-

"Can I have some?" came a cheeky voice from behind me. I shrieked and spun around, my back hitting the counter behind me as I was startled by the pirate, who laughed at my reaction. "I figured I would let myself in, since you never come to the door anymore."

I huffed, turning around to continue my work, kneading dough. Time to change the locks again.

I had a batch of cookies in the oven, fluffing out to fullness in the heat of the dull fires beneath. Baking was a calming process and kept my mind off of…everything. I still didn't feel up to fighting or romping about, so baking it would be until I got back in touch with myself.

Who says I that have to fight, anyway?

It's just been my main profession for the past, oh, half a decade..

"I heard about your trip with Merrill yesterday," the pirate said, snatching a warm oatmeal cracker from the counter. I sighed and added more flour to my sweet bread. "I also heard a rumor that you've been stealthily stocking Fenris' icebox – and I don't mean that as a euphemism, oddly enough."

I shook my head. That's not exactly true. I took him dinner once – is that such an odd thing to do?

Maybe. I did run out the door like a madwoman the moment he appeared.

"Does that have anything to do with what I found on your doorstep?" she asked, baiting me.

I glanced askance at her and she produced a wicker basket from behind her back – clanking with bowls and glasses inside. I recognized it as the one I had taken to make amends to Fenris.

That certainly went well.

"A bunch of empty plates and a half-drunk bottle of wine inside. Seem familiar to you?"

I focused back on my work with the dough, my eyes downcast. After a few moments of thought, I nodded.

She set the basket on the counter top. "Don't worry, dear, I won't take the rest of the wine. I prefer ale."

You call the dog piss at the Hanged Man "ale"?

"It sounds like you need a friend," Isabela said, leaning on the counter beside me. "But I think I've been a little too friendly, lately. So how about you just try being Hawke and I'll be me and we'll go on adventures. I'll even be lewd, if it makes you feel normal. Sound all right?"

"I – tried," I said, voice halting and breaking in odd places. "Acting normal."

"You did," Isabela said, her tone taking an unhappy turn. "And that didn't pan out so well, did it?" She sighed, rolling over to lean her back and elbows against the counter instead. "That oatmeal thing was delicious," she told me, grabbing another. "Are you taking those to Fenris, too?"

I shrugged.

"Is that your way of apologizing?"

If only that could be enough. I shrugged again.

He said he's never had any. It's about time he's had some.

But that never happened, did it?

I had planned to share with everyone else, as well. There was no use in fattening up just Fenris – all of my companions could use a cookie every now and then for what I dragged them through.

"Do you want to do lunch? Since you're baking, we could go to the Hanged Man." I made a face and she laughed. "Okay. We can make something. I'm not actually that talented at cooking, though."

"I –" I swallowed past the lump in my throat, repeating in my head once again that my mouth wasn't sewn shut, "-used to help my mother." I knew my way around a kitchen well enough.

"You mean when you weren't taking off ogre heads as a child?" she teased. I went to the breadbox and pulled out a loaf and set to cutting it. I pointed my knife at the cupboard, where Isabela retrieved the cured ham and slightly aging cheese. She brought both of them to me before taking a seat. "Make me something delicious, woman." I sighed and she pulled out one of her daggers, turning it over and over, examining it idly as I began cutting the large cooked ham for four.

"You're confusing the poor man, you know. The rest of us, too. You haven't said a word about what happened, so we're all at a loss about what to do – we don't know if you need time, or if you need normalcy, or if you need an exorcism. A little help would be nice." She set down her weapon and looked up with me – but I didn't meet her eyes. "You're driving us all crazy. Not to mention all the jobs we have lined up that we haven't gotten to."

I didn't respond; instead, I made four sandwiches, saving two for Bodahn and his boy. I sat at the kitchen table, across from Isabela as we had our impromptu lunch. I couldn't force myself to eat but a little of my own food, my appetite nonexistent.

"I visited Fenris," she said – without looking at me. I tensed up at his name. "I thought he could…use a friend, you know? To get his frustrations out." She smirked and I felt rotten. "I'm good at being that kind of friend. The kind that helps you forget your problems – but he was three sheets to the wind and could hardly form a sentence."

She let that image sink in; her breaking into his home, sneaking around only to find him drunk beyond coherency. My fault?

It wasn't an odd thing for Fenris to get drunk; he fancied wine, but rarely did he take in more drink than he could handle. He preferred being alert to face any oncoming dangers – he had too many hounds at his back door to rest easily.

I bit into my sandwich; the bread was tacky and the ham unrighteously salty, but it was food and it was filling. Isabela certainly didn't complain about the free lunch.

I glanced at her face when she wouldn't notice me looking; she warred with something – the hints on her face were subtle, but I could spot the signs of a person trying to hold their tongue and failing.

"These reactions that you've been having to him lately have been eating him up. He's Fenris –" she noticed me tense, that time, "- like that. You being absolutely terrified of him isn't doing him any favors. He already thinks pretty low of himself for having those gorgeous tattoos, so you aren't helping his delicate, manly self-esteem any by running away from him like he's some kind of devilish monster."

"You think he has low self-esteem just because he won't sleep with you?" I tried to slow down my words before they all tumbled out into a pile, my speech feeling foreign to my own tongue.

Isabela chuckled as she finished off the last of her sandwich. "Ha. I guess if he doesn't sleep with me, he has to think pretty highly of himself, doesn't he? Bastard. Doesn't know what he's missing."

I smiled, feeling far away, detached. "I never thought you would know so much about feelings, Isabela."

She groaned, putting her feet on the table. I narrowed my eyes – but trembled at the thought of telling her to put them down or, Maker forbid, tossing them off myself – something I would have done before I had awoken in Tevinter.

"I prefer not to think about anyone having feelings, if I can be honest," she said, smoothing out the leather on her boot. "They're messy and impractical – but it's been a while since I've had friends to look out for," she said, suddenly raising her eyes to look into mine before I could cast them away. "You're a grown woman, Hawke. I know you can take care of yourself – we're alike, in that way. But I know how we're different. You care more than I could – and you could use a push when it comes to making a move on the man you care about." I saw her eyebrows rise suggestively before I completely looked way. "Especially when you're giving him a kind of heartache that a whore couldn't cure."

She took her feet off my table and stood. "Looks like rain to me," Isabela said, staring out of the window at the darkening light outside. "I should leave before the bottom falls out. Thanks for the lunch, Hawke." She walked over to me and quickly planted a kiss on my cheek before I could duck away. "Take care of yourself."

She was gone, but her words stayed with me for hours afterward as I sat at the table, rising occasionally to pull some of my baked things from the oven.

-E-

Monster.

He's not the monster; Danarius is. I am. None of this was his fault. Was it?

It took a solid hour – if not longer - for all of my sweets to come out – it gave me enough quiet time to myself, to think. As if I hadn't had enough time to myself for the past few days.

The sun faded away and the sky darkened. I pulled my sweet buns from the oven and set them out to cool – perfectly in reach of Sandal or Muffin, should either of them wander into the kitchen and want a snack.

I refused to glance into the corners of the room like a scared animal.

The rain began falling by the bucketful as I finally packed up the cookies, leaving them to sit in the kitchen beside the two uneaten sandwiches. I didn't bother leaving a note for Bodahn – I knew that I had to see Fenris. I had put it off for too long; if I waited much longer, it might be too late.

I had barrels full of rocks on my chest when I thought of him.

I had to apologize to his face; I had to look him in his eye and not be afraid. Isabela's visit made me realize that he and I both needed it.

So I left my house, feeling far away from my own head as I carried myself on bare feet across Hightown. Not many nobles were brave enough to stand the sudden storm, but I hardly noticed the raindrops soaking my finery and hair. I already felt cold and hollow without the influence of the chilled water.

My hands began to shake when I turned a corner and could see his front door. I couldn't tell if it was from residual terror or the cold, but the fear was buried in my heart just as assuredly as the rain poured from the sky.

I knocked, this time – but my taps were timid and unsure, delivered from quivering knuckles. I knew that he wouldn't hear them.

I waited, hugging my arms around myself, trying to stiffen my bones and harden my heart from being afraid.

He isn't going to come. I knew he wouldn't hear my quiet tapping at his door – but I couldn't muster the willpower to knock again.

Damn it. I stared up at the falling rain, feeling small and powerless.

The door handle turned and I jumped, my eyes wide. Fenris opened the door slowly, peering out from the darkness of his home.

Fear seized me but I swallowed past it. This is Fenris, I reminded myself. I refused to fall into my nightmares, refused to run away – so I stood, immobile, tensed to run but denying my body the motion.

I couldn't look in his eyes – but his face appeared to be so haggard and tired that my arms ached to pull him to me even as my breath stuttered in approaching panic.

I've never knocked before.

"Hawke?" he sounded tired and puzzled. "What do you need?"

I found myself speechless again, my words unavailable. But my heart was slowing and my fear slowly abated until it was manageable as my body accepted the logic my brain was enforcing upon it: there is nothing to be afraid of here.

After a few moments of hearing nothing but the sound of the rain pattering and splashing down, Fenris sighed. "Come inside, Hawke. You're going to freeze to death."

Shivering and covered in chill bumps, I walked past him and into the house – which was no warmer than the outside.

Fenris was aware of the temperature of his house; he shut the door and walked past me, straight to the stairs, trusting that I would follow him.

I did. As soon as we crossed the doorway into the master bedroom he directed himself to the fire, where he stoked and fed the embers until they crackled and warmed the room. I stayed in the doorway, unsure of myself – I didn't look directly at him, worried that I would scare myself and run away again.

No. I won't run away.

He pulled a bench closer to the fire. "Sit. You're soaked."

I obeyed immediately, crossing the room and sitting at the wooden bench. The heat from the fire warmed the front of me quickly as Fenris walked away, rummaging somewhere in the room behind me. He returned a moment later with a thick tunic and handed it to me. I slid it over my head, feeling warmer by the second, grateful for the assistance as I tried to keep my teeth from chattering.

He sat across from me, a bit further from the fire. We stayed quiet; I wanted to speak, to put an end to the awkwardness between us, but I couldn't. It felt too real – too much like Tevinter, too much like being back in the clutches of a monster.

I noticed Fenris glance over his shoulder, at the darkened doorway, before visually checking the window and the corners of the room.

Waiting for slavers to come.

I would never let them take him; I hoped he knew that.

Not again. Not ever.

I felt closer to him after seeing the automatic motions he went through because I could recognize them; I checked the corners for my demons, too.

I had lived in paralyzing fear for the past few days that Danarius would come for me, that everyone would inflict pain upon me – particularly Fenris. I had no justification for that feeling and even if I tried to explain why I felt that way, no one would understand and I would feel ridiculous.

But Fenris would understand. I feared him in the way he feared mages – like he must have feared me, once. Perhaps still.

Fenris must have endured the same tortures, the cages, the torments, the dehumanizing – only his memory had been taken from him. He didn't have a memory of anything before the torture to keep him going; he didn't have memories of times when contact with another being didn't hurt, when he had loved and had been loved.

All of this time, I had feared a strike from Fenris for being impertinent – but what if he had subconsciously expecting a strike from me? From any mage? Always?

He's tried so hard to be free – but it's so difficult to forget all of the pain and conditioning.

He was thrown into a world with slavery and removed himself from it, but it chased him wherever he ran; he constantly threw glances over his shoulder, looking for demons in corners and alleys.

I could see the patterns in my head, matched them with my own recent fears.

He's scared and he's lonely and he thinks he's nothing but a slave.

I wanted to rush over and throw my arms around him – but at the same time, I wanted to back away, to run back to my house and crawl under a closet, never to crawl out again.

The silence seemed to drag on long enough for Fenris.

"Was there something you needed, Hawke?" he asked, sitting rigidly a little ways away from me.

I shook my head no, slinging water from my dripping hair – but paused, knowing it was a lie. I needed to be in his presence; I needed to sit here until I stopped being afraid.

I need it to be real.

I need to know that I didn't suffer in vain.

He sighed again, slouching in his seat. "What are you doing here?"

I turned to look at him, glancing from his white hair – glowing a warm, pulsing orange from the fire – to his face, to his wardrobe of full, spiky armor.

I opened my mouth and paused, wondering if any sound would make it through my lips.

"I –'m sorry," I mumbled, looking down at my lap.

For pushing you.

For not being what you needed.

For being so full of myself that I tried magic instead of a more intuitive option.

For running away.

For everything.

I hoped he understood my apology – but there was no possibility of him ever comprehending the depth of my sorrows.

He didn't say anything else for the rest of the night; after a few hours of staring into the fire, my eyes grew heavy and I sagged, feeling warm and secure, if not safe under his watchful, pensive gaze.

-E-

The bed I awoke in wasn't exactly soft, but I still startled when I regained consciousness. Disoriented, my eyes snapped open and I jumped, scooting until my back hit the headboard. My heart pounded while my eyes darted around the room, searching – benches – the fire had gone out – a wardrobe – a pile of rags? – dust – a night table -

It took more than a handful of minutes for me to gradually become aware of where I was. When I realized that I had fallen asleep at Fenris' stolen mansion, I breathed a short sigh of relief before tensing again.

I didn't see him in the room – not by the fire, nor beside the bed – I even checked under the bed, for good measure. The sun was barely climbing in the sky when I found the note on the side table.

My hands shook as I quickly grabbed the note, lifting it close and concentrating on the squinty penmanship and clipped sentences.

Hawk,

I am away. I have a job. I will be back.

Fenris

I didn't realize I was smiling until I had already put the note down. I had forgotten all about our reading lessons – but I could tell he hadn't; he had improved on his own. I spied a few books cluttered around the small space that he frequented and felt proud.

This is what I always wanted, isn't it? Him to grow and be content. The smile slid from my face as the thought sunk in, falling away into the pits of my mind. But he can't be content in this side of life, can he? His happiness is rotted by the horrors he has endured and the tigers at his back.

I didn't want to leave. I wanted to be there, in his room, keeping the fire warm. Waiting for his return.

However much I wanted to stay, the darkness and emptiness of the mansion didn't appeal to me. But I still had enough wit to realize that pulling the two of us apart was akin to fighting nature herself – a losing battle, as we were drawn together inevitably, like water to the soil; no matter the toils of man, no matter the decade, we would meet as naturally as dew met the grass.

I wasn't afraid of that – I wasn't afraid of Fenris. But forgetting the flood – forgetting the horrifying flash storms – would be difficult, even in the presence of the soft pattering of warm rain drops.

I pulled his tunic over my head and folded it neatly on the bed – I took the note with me, tucking it firmly into my hand before I descended the stairs and exited the entryway, taking the turns to my house in the dewy morning, thinking very deeply on nature and the inevitable course of life.

Fenris and I would have to come later; until then, I had a few other apologies to make.

See! They're making up –kind of. They still have a little way to go. At least she didn't scream and run away this time, amirite?

With Inquisition just around the corner, I want to know: what is your first Inquisitor going to be? (Race, class, gender, etc.) (because if you guys are anything like me, there will be, like, 20 playthroughs of this damn game)