Hawke and Genesis sat curled up in a puddle of sunlight, reading.
It was mid morning in Cosmo Canyon and they had the library to themselves. Hawke sat with her legs stretched out on the floor, leaning against the base of an armchair for back support. Genesis lounged sideways on the armchair, one arm draped loosely across her shoulder.
She hadn't heard him turn a page in a while. His hand, which had been a tendency to tap or squeeze her shoulder from time to time, had fallen still.
She glanced back at him. He had his eyes closed. The book he was supposedly reading was partially slipped from his hands, the pages fanning out. He looked like a cat curled up in a sunbeam, with a pout on his lips and his hair slightly askew from where his face was mushed against the leather back. She smiled.
She was tempted to join him and nod off in the relaxing sunlight. The book she was reading, a journal of a girl on the first recorded voyage from the western to the eastern continent, was excruciatingly dull. It had been recommended to her as an insightful historical text that illuminated the culture of the time. That was probably true, but as Hawke already knew how looms worked and how to wash her linens in wood ash and lye, it was akin to reading the ingredients list on a shampoo bottle.
She flicked through a couple of pages, losing what little interest she had. Little Betsy from 1600's Nibelheim was probably not going to unveil any great magical secrets.
Genesis muttered something in his sleep.
"I agree," she said, yawning and stretching her legs. "A fine idea."
She let the book fall closed in her lap and leaned her head back against his thigh. This holiday had become increasingly indulgent. Returning to reality was going to be a right bother.
Genesis' hand on her shoulder twitched. His breath hitched and he mumbled something. She looked at him. He jerked, his forehead scrunching up but his eyes still closed. He tossed his head from side to side, and sweat beaded at his forehead.
His grip on her shoulder tightened. He looked paler all of a sudden.
She slid out from under his arm, trying not to jostle him, and backed away a couple of meters. She'd known enough dangerous people beset by nightmares to know better than staying close.
She frowned as he breathed heavily. He was a strong dreamer now, with enough composure in the Fade that panicking there shouldn't have translated to physical reactions here. From the outside it didn't look like a Fade nightmare at all. Her frown deepened.
She lobbed a cushion at him.
He snapped awake, suddenly sitting up and looking around with wide eyes and a red glow in his hands. His arms shook. It reminded her so sharply of Carver trying to shake off Corypheus' false Blight dreams for a split second that her breath left her.
It took him longer than it should have to register where he was. His eyes settled on her, wide and confused. His breathing calmed down some. He fell back in the chair and dragged a hand down his face.
"Sorry, I..." he trailed off.
She shook off the apology, suspicious settling into the bottom of her stomach. "Are you alright?"
"Yes. I'm fine. It was just a dream." He looked away, visibly straining to piece his dignity and composure back together. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "It was just a dream."
"Do you... want to be alone?"
"No," he bit out. "Please."
She stepped tentatively closer. "What did you see?"
"Just the Fade," he said. He looked up at her beseechingly.
"What happened?" she asked.
"There was... a song. And a drum, like a heartbeat."
She stepped closer again and put a hand on his shoulder.
He pulled her closer still and buried his head in her middle, grounding himself. She wrapped her arms around him, a hand in his hair
"There were eyes everywhere, and a hand on my wing. It was trying to tear it out," he ground out. "It ripped me apart."
He grabbed her hand and silently moved it to the shoulder where his wing emerged from. She heard the silent plea and flooded his back muscles with healing. He gasped and held her closer, his arms around her waist.
Corruption pumped through his veins. It throbbed with every heartbeat. She swallowed even though her throat was bone dry.
"It wasn't just the Fade," he admitted.
"No."
He looked up at her. "Then what was it?"
"Can you still hear the song?"
"Yes. What was it, Hawke?"
She didn't want to say it.
"Did you see a dragon?"
He stared at her, his eyes glowing in the shadow she cast.
"...And it saw me."
The suspicious clawing its way up her throat turned into dread.
"That was the Calling."
She held him again. A couple grey strands of his hair came loose in her hand.
They were interrupted by a call from Sephiroth. Hawke eavesdropped on the strange conversation, clipped and mysterious in a way that baffled even Genesis.
What mattered was that Angeal had taken a turn for the worse. The rest of Genesis' leave had been cancelled. The sun soaked dream was over and Midgar called.
Her own phone rang while Genesis was hanging up. Aerith's smiling face flashed across the screen. The unease still clogging up her throat made itself known. Aerith never called when a text would do. She turned into their little corner of the library for the illusion of privacy and picked up.
"Hello beautiful," she said, making herself smile into the receiver.
"Hawke! Thank the planet."
She winced.
"What's wrong?"
"I went and saw Aega again," Aerith said, quiet and dreadful. "I took Sephiroth with me."
Hawke froze. "You- what?"
Then she spun and locked eyes with a grimacing Genesis. He could hear every word too.
'Why?' he mouthed. She shrugged back helplessly.
"Why would you go back? And what does Sephiroth have to do with it? Or you for that matter?"
"He killed her."
"Oh." Well, that explained why everyone was awake at least. Her shoulders relaxed, if they'd killed the most powerful spirit than likely they had avoided any possessions. "Better than the alternative, I don't want to know what kind of abomination he'd make." She grinned at the phone. "Not what I asked though."
"Hawke! Take it seriously!"
"...What am I not taking seriously, Aerith?"
"I was looking for information on the Blight."
"Did you figure it out?" she asked, daring to hope.
"No."
Genesis scowled and turned away. The despair in Aerith's voice caught Hawke's attention far more than the denial. She turned back to the wall and cradled the phone.
"What happened?"
"I shouldn't say on the phone."
They shouldn't have been saying any of it on the phone. Too late now.
"Are you safe?" she asked quietly. "Are you alright?"
"Yes." It was a bleak whisper. "I'm safe."
Hawke narrowed her eyes. "I'm coming home now, I'll be back in a day or two. Will you be alright in the meantime? We'll talk it out when I get there."
"Okay. Thank you. Hawke, I..."
She trailed off, and the silence grew heavy.
"I'm sorry about Pride," Hawke offered.
"She called him the son of Andruil."
Her back straightened. "Did she?"
"It's not true, is it? That's nonsense."
"No idea," she said, her brow furrowing. "I'll see you soon. Stay safe."
"You too."
There wasn't time to be confused, they had to leave as soon as possible. The idea and its implications drifted through Hawke's head nevertheless. Genesis went to go hire some chocobos and she searched the village to find Bugenhagen. The sun was at its zenith and a scorching hot wind chased her up the walkways.
The son of Andruil.
She had suspected that there was some old Elvhen blood in the SOLDIERs, their magical prowess was simply too much to get from Mako alone. Genesis' wing was born of shapeshifting magic, which was outside of even Aerith's capabilities.
It was ridiculous though. Unless Shinra had an old god in the basement.
She regretted the thought the second it crossed her mind. Combined with Genesis dreaming up the start of a Blight, it was... unspeakable.
What would a Blight be like with Andruil at its head and all of SOLDIER compromised?
She felt a wave of nausea pass through her. She blamed the scorching midday heat and ignored the ball of terror in her gut.
Maybe it was some other Andruil. Andruil Jenkins, from downtown Midgar. She snorted a thin and unhinged laugh.
It didn't occur to her to disbelieve Aega. Pride spirits might lie to flatter or insult you, whichever triggered the most proud response, but Sephiroth couldn't have known who the Elvhen Goddess of the Hunt was. It was a meaningless statement to any modern day Gaian.
Or it should have been, according to everything Hawke had found. She'd spent a week scouring the oldest library on the planet and found a grand total of three elvhen words and all used incorrectly. Not a single name.
She reached the observatory at the top of a village and knocked on the wooden door frame.
"Come in!" Bugenhagen called.
It was cool and dark inside the observatory, compared to the burning outdoors. Bugen was tinkering with the machinery, his legs swinging off the side of his floating seat and a soldering iron in hand.
She had come to thank him for his hospitality. Maybe warn him, maybe even ask for some advice. She wasn't good at listening to advice but it was nice to have nevertheless.
He looked up from his work with a smile and she wasn't sure what to say. He turned serious at whatever expression she must have been wearing.
"Ah. You're leaving then?"
She nodded.
"A shame. I wanted to show you your planet through the telescope."
She offered a tentative grin. "Maybe next time."
He put his soldering iron down and crossed his arms, burying his hands in the voluminous sleeves of his robe. He studied her under his bristly eyebrows.
"You didn't find what you were looking for."
She forced a smile. "No. We found something much, much worse."
His brows rose.
She muddled through an explanation. It didn't sound very plausible and she likely wasn't making much sense anyway.
She recalled Carver's rotting skin. His waking panic as Corypheus' Blight call grew louder every day. How the Warden Stroud's focus would wander, listening to a song only they and the darkspawn could hear.
It had been too much for them. The whole warden army had panicked and turned on the world because the call was just too much. They didn't know what else to do.
She grew numb as she spoke. One more disaster, another world on fire. As long as the music played what choice did they have but to dance?
Bugen's eyebrows rose impossibly higher as she spoke.
"That sounds… bad."
She snorted. "An astute observation."
"But Gaia has suffered attacks before. She just asks her children to step up and defend her."
"I am not a child of Gaia," she replied.
He waved it off. "An adoptee, for the moment at least. And a welcome one, since you can apparently recognise threats we don't." He floated past and patted her on the shoulder.
She wasn't sure how to tell him just how far beyond her this was.
She'd hoped Aerith might be able to cure it, but that was when it was simply two infected. If there was an archdemon in the mix it was too late for healing individuals to change the tide. And Aerith didn't sound like she was making progress anyway. There wasn't the infrastructure or understanding for holding off a Blight here. Hawke knew some Grey Warden secrets, but that was all for fighting infected Tevinter old gods, there had never been an Elvhen archdemon before.
She was just one woman. What in the void was she supposed to do?
Bugen frowned when she didn't say anything.
"How bad is it?"
"So imagine the worst possible thing."
"Mm?"
"It's slightly worse than that."
He chortled. "You don't know that, I have a wild imagination."
She didn't laugh. "Not wild enough."
He sobered. He floated closer, his expression turning concerned.
"You don't strike me as a woman ruled by fear."
"Ruled by it? No." She looked down. She wished she was in her armour and had her staff on her back. It felt reckless to be without it now. "But I am afraid of this, Bugenhagen. I'm afraid Shinra have done something abominable… and we are not equipped to undo it." She forced a weak grin. "I'm not great at undoing damage at the best of times."
Bugen sat up straight. "What did Shinra do?"
She shook her head. It wasn't hers to tell.
"Some poisons cannot be purged," was all she could say.
He nodded slowly. "Then we must endeavour not to be poisoned in the first place."
"If it is not already too late."
He titled his head and studied her.
"Did you know your eyes look yellow in a certain light?"
She blinked. "Do they?"
"Yes."
"Huh. Maybe I'm not eating enough citrus."
"Thank you for telling me." He patted her on the shoulder again. "May the Planet guide you, Hawke. And that SOLDIER of yours."
"Thanks."
"Now off you go. Save the day." He returned to his soldering station and picked up the iron.
"I have some bad news for you on my day-saving record."
He gave her a stern look over his shoulder.
"Save the Planet or I won't let you back into my library."
She laughed. "Fine. You've twisted my arm."
Genesis rented them two chocobos from the stables. He wanted to move as quickly as possible, so he asked for their fastest mounts.
Hawke looked up at the towering bids. There was a lean and mean red hen with claws like a dragon, scratching at the rock under her feet. The other was a lazy purple rooster with leucism: patches of ashen white and grey feathers among the purple, and a magnificent crest rising from its head. They were taller and skinnier than the ones she saw on the eastern continent.
"Do you know how to ride?" Genesis asked, handing her the reins of the purple bird.
"Not well," she replied. The purple bird looked down at her from on high. She distinctly remembered swinging into the saddle of a chocobo back in Junon, only to fall off the other side. If they'd had the luxury of time they could have shared one chocobo, but it was a two day ride going flat out. It would be too much to ask of any one bird.
Genesis gave her a look. "You can't ride at all, can you?"
She confessed her ignorance and he assured her it was easy.
He was a liar. Of course it was easy for him, he grew up with chocobos on his parent's farm. She grew up with a mabari war hound, which only a fool would try to ride. She could just about make do on horseback, but you didn't actually sit on a chocobo's back: you sat on its shoulders, with your legs over its wings.
Genesis swung up onto the red bird's saddle, all grace and decorum. She scrambled up onto the purple bird's back like a sack of potatoes. If they'd had more time it would have been an opportunity for light hearted teasing, but they did not. Genesis ruthlessly corrected her posture and movement and everything else she had wrong until she grasped the basics. She gave him a nod when she felt in control.
With no further ceremony, they trotted out the gates and left.
Cosmo Canyon shrunk behind them and they zipped across the rocky desert at a cracking pace. The sun beat down upon them and the scorching wind chased them. The purple chocobo only looked lazy, it loved to run, and the red was excited to be let loose.
They passed the dead buggy, now partially submerged in sand, and pressed on. They ran in silence for most of the day, both tense and worried. The few times monsters swift enough to be a problem attacked, they call down magical destruction upon the beasts without pausing.
The sun sank low in the sky, and the heat began to drop. Only then did they slow to a stop and make camp. Genesis fed the birds and Hawke prepared dinner for the humans. They didn't talk much, but it was comfortable and they worked in uncomplicated unison. They both understood, it didn't need to be said.
Hawke stood after they had eaten. They were on a plateau, the desert stretched away for miles in every direction, vast and empty. The sun just grazed the horizon, setting the ragged clouds alight and turning the rock a molten red.
"I'm glad we came," she said quietly, looking out at it all. "Even though we didn't find what we were looking for, even if we come home to all of Midgar on fire." She would remember the trip fondly, whatever happened next.
"Why would Midgar be on fire?" Genesis asked, still sitting on a rock.
"I shouldn't say. I'd hate to give it ideas."
"Hn, I doubt it needs the help."
She glanced at him. He was looking wistfully up at her. He stood, stretched his arms out, and then unfurled his wing.
The two chocobo startled and warked at him. The large black limb stretched out from his back and over his head.
Under the burning sunset, he held a hand out to her. The wind made his coat flap around him and
"Come fly with me."
She smiled and took his hand. He pulled her in, tucking her back solidly against his chest. She turned her head to look back at him as he wrapped an arm around her waist. He met her eyes.
He stretched his wing out. With a mighty flap and a blast of air the ground fell away. She gasped, despite having expected it. They flew up and up and oh, that was very high. The pointed lack of anything beneath her feet made her heart rate pick up. She latched onto the strong arm holding her up. Still they climbed, higher than the tallest Chantry cathedral, maybe even higher than the Shinra building, until their little campsite was lost in the tapestry of rock and sand laid out below them. They were lost in the endless sky. It was so beautiful and terrifying it made her giddy. She wouldn't have been surprised if Genesis' hand was losing feeling from how hard she was holding it.
"Afraid of heights?" he asked, his teasing mouth at her ear.
"No." She raised her chin in defiance. "I'm not afraid of anything."
"Good," he said, and let her go.
She plummeted. Air rushed by in a sudden roar, she was too shocked to scream, her lungs empty. A blur of feathers and leather swooped by and caught hold of her again, this time with her facing him.
She latched on like a limpet, her legs around his waist and her arms locked around his shoulders.
"You nug-humping blighter!" she wheezed. Her heart thundered so violently in her chest he could probably feel it against his own. That bastard.
"There, there. I've got you," he drawled. She could hear the laughter in his voice. The wind had dropped and there was no noise except the steady beat of his wing.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
She pulled back enough to look him in his stupid, self-satisfied, smirking, handsome face. She nodded slightly, because she was alright and she was going to find this hilarious later. Much later.
"Do that again and I'll electrocute you so hard your grandchildren will be twitchy," she said.
He laughed, a low rumble in his chest that she felt in her core.
"Why would I need to do it again?" he asked, squeezing her thigh where he held it up securely around his other arm was wound around her waist, holding her flush against him.
She lowered her chin and looked at him through hooded eyes.
"That was very smooth."
"It wasn't, wasn't it?" he replied, the slightest hint of self doubt in his eyes. She couldn't have missed it, there was nowhere else to look.
It was a step beyond the reckless flirting they had indulged in all week, now without the teasing non-committal and plausible deniability. There was nowhere to coyly retreat to. Alone together in the empty sky, where there was no Gaia or Thedas, no politics or past mistakes. Neither yesterday nor tomorrow, just each other, and the tiny pocket of air between them. The golden backdrop faded into dusk. He was breathtaking in the dying light.
His hand ran up her spine. Intentional and delightful.
She had never been pursued before. She had always been the fool who went out on a limb and chased her lovers, thus she was always the one turned away. She was more familiar with turned backs than open arms.
Intense blue eyes, flecked with green, watched her with unveiled desire. Waiting on her. He took her breath away.
She raised a hand to his jawline, tracing her fingers gently along his cheek. She saw his throat bob and his eyes drift to her lips. Her heart beat fast and giddy in her chest.
She buried her hand in his hair and kissed him. He sank into her mouth and drank from her lips.
A dark night fell, as the two hung in the sky, lost in each other's arms.
A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for reading and reviewing, it means a lot. So, full disclosure, we are fast approaching the final act of this little tale. If you have any questions you want answered, any facet of the story not really making sense to you, now is the time to say so. I want to make the ending as worthy of the buildup and your investment in it as possible.
Next Time: The Seventh Blight.
