Running On Empty: Falling From Grace


Note: Hey guys! Just an update/rewrite on this chapter. One reviewer let me know about an inaccuracy writing up Krem's character and I agreed. Unfortunately, due to limited material source (the game doesn't offer much in the way of Krem's bio aside from what Bull and he tell us), I've done the best I've can to adjust the dialogue. If anyone has any suggestions, give me a holler!


By day two of my enforced rest and recuperation, I was stir-crazy. I never realized how often I was on the move or in action until I was forced to sit my ass down and recover. The inside of my cabin drove me nuts, watching the shadows flicker as the sunlight faded and night took over. I was quaranteed for the better part of the first two days (true, on my orders) to allow any chance of infection to appear without endangering the whole community. Once Adan was satisfied that I wasn't a walking biohazard, I was released back into the frigid freedom of Haven.

I still had few more days of 'rest,' as Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine were unanimous in giving me a vacation. It didn't feel like one, I had figurative ants crawling along my legs and the wounds I had suffered, both emotional and physical, were now distant, foggy memories. I suppose, if anything, this was going to be a week that I finally caught up with my peers and companions. Harritt, true to my predictions, was far from pleased at the state of my armor, but he took it with a grumble and set to fixing it.

Blackwall and I were tentative around each other that day I visited Harritt. From what I could tell, there was still some sour-tasting, unresolved emotions between us. He had continued to foster being perturbed at my audacity to take the burden of fighting the Avvar alone. I was a chicken-shit that was well and truly burned from my last soul-bearing conversation with Bull. I would let the Warden fester, if only in the hopes he would let it go.

Though in the beginning, had he known me and had I not had a turbulent force like Cassandra with me, I would have happily curled up into his shadow and allowed him the lead in all things Inquisition and protection. Funnily, I found I was not that girl now. Don't get me wrong, my anxiety was through the ceiling at the thought that I was here, lounging around in Haven and 'recovering' when I had patrols out on the Storm Coast waiting for my return to deal with the banditry that had set up there, and depression made conversation a nightmare, but.

I couldn't buy into my fear anymore. It was a bit hard, what with being capable enough to swing a maul like a baseball bat.

You know. Now that I considered it, I had also distanced myself from another companion; Solas. Our conversation in the War Room had been less than ideal, and it was much the same situation with different colors. Placing myself in unknown danger with tools that potentially served me not at all. The Mark was, is, still very much a threat to my person, especially once I had told The Hydra and Solas of the side-effects.

Hence, Solas found himself locked away, studying most likely, in his cabin.

He likes me not; that made two petals plucked from the flower.

Here I was, curled over a half empty tankard of who-knows-what-Cabot-gave-me, mulling and moping over my situation. It seemed like everything I did was in extremes. I was brave enough to charge head-on into a rift's screaming maw or face first into the blow from an Avvar, but I cowered at the disappointed expressions of The Hydra or my friends.

Dark thoughts fluttered through me, as well. Could they be considered friends? Solas was here simply on the misfortune of being dragged into this mess because of his knowledge of the Fade. Varric was here because he had already been chained to Cassandra's side at the start of it all. Leliana, Cullen, Josephine were here just like Vivienne and Blackwall stayed; simply because they felt obligated to meet the challenge that faced their world.

The Iron Bull was here as a spy.

I was here because the Fates That Be aligned in such a way as to rip me from one world into another. I wasn't lost anymore, I knew what I had to do, but now more than ever the isolation twisted around my ribs and pulled them inward like a tightened corset. I miss Cassandra, came the mulish thought, repeating itself for the umpteenth time. The tankard rolled between my palms and caught on the uneven table top. The bar-part-inn was quiet save for Maryden who sang her hymns softly into tired and worn faces.

Can I even consider Cassandra a friend? Blackish, muggy thoughts slimed through my brain. What had Cabot given me, honestly? The tankard was pushed away. My arms folded across each other, hands on my opposite elbows and my chin sunk into the flesh of my arms, resting on the table. Why was I trying to make or keep friends while the world was burning around me? Why would I bother asking them? It was childish and too reminiscent of elementary school to wonder if someone liked me or not.

This, this right here was the very reason I didn't take vacations.

A shadow passed behind me and to my right. My left hand (and The Mark) tucked into the crook of my elbow to keep it hidden. For all the fame I so torturously gathered to myself (read: sarcasm), many of my constituents were bothered by the sight of my claim to exaltation. With a glance to the right, surprise struck me faintly as Aclassi's face entered my vision.

"Lieutenant," I breathed, startled by his presence. The length of my spine straightened as I sat upright. "Are you - is everything okay?"

"I'm fine, Your Worship, thank you." He chuckled and carefully pushed away my half-empty tankard to replace it with a cup of cool water. Tentatively, my fingers curled around it and brought it close, but I still graced him with a puppy's tilt of my head, confusion pinched at my brow.

"You look tired." He said unceremoniously. A smaller mug of something warm steamed between his fingers. "I thought you were supposed to be resting?"

"I am." I murmured absently, understandably still confused by his presence. Did something happen? "This is my 'Everything's Swell' face."

"More like 'Someone Twisted Your Knickers' face, I would say." He answered readily and casually sipped at his mug, his gaze momentarily flickering to Maryden, her voice hung in the air as she sung gently over the troubles of the Empress.

A laugh sparked from me. "What an expression to recognize on someone's face, Aclassi." A wicked sort of grin flashed over his lips and a thrill of humor hummed under my heart. Desperately, my heart gripped my ribs and rattled its cage, an unrelenting wheeze of desire pressed behind my bones at the small offering of companionship. I took it, greedily.

"What brings you into my orbit, Aclassi?" I asked. A sip of the cool water strangely warmed my stomach and brought focus to my muddy thoughts. Where the hell was I going with that train wreck? Christ.

"Well." He hesitated, his gaze brought back to me from the bard. "... I was wondering if you could take a walk with me? It's a bit personal." Immediately my back fired like a rail gun and sprung tight under my skin. A nod of my head agreed for me before my words could and it had Aclassi finishing his small mug in a few gulps before we stood.

We waved goodbye to Cabot and Maryden, Sera watched us with narrowed, suspicious eyes, but Aclassi came around to my left with a winning smile, blocking me from sight as we made our way to the exit. Once there and stepping out into the cold, he bent his arm for me to take with my hand. A nervous glance between his smile and his arm stopped me, but with a nudge from him, my Marked hand came up to rest gently in the hollow of his elbow.

So we walked, silent and slow between the huts of Haven, out toward the main gate and down past the steps and Harritt's lodge. We were not, I noticed, making our way toward the Chargers camp that was nestled out by the hill's root just beyond the lake. Aclassi's feet took us steadily along the road out to the skirts of Haven. Another set of eyes watched us, Blackwall crossed his arms as we passed, but shamefully I hid against Aclassi's side and ignored the Warden.

"Not easy getting a moment's rest when everyone's watching you, waiting for you to snap." Aclassi murmured near my head. My body shifted a bit to allow a breath between us, I had apparently huddled to his side not only in shame, but for warmth. A shrug answered his words, he was right and I was reluctant to admit it. Everyone was worried, didn't matter how many times I told them I was fine.

"I have The Mark," I went by way of explanation, "I'm never going to look well-rested. It's a parasite."

"A meat hook pulling the inside out." He replied softly. Our feet continued along the smoothed dirt path and dipped into gentle slope that led down into another valley. The trees were just as thick here as they were by the Chargers camp and out near the logging site that Haven used. The Inquisition worked this area, too, but not as extensively. It was inches closer to the Breach over our heads, and if it could be avoided, it would be.

"Something like that, yeah." Minutes had stalled my response, he wasn't there when I told Bull, right? No. He must've been told. I didn't know where we were headed, but I was trusting Aclassi not to murder me so close to Haven. Several pairs of eyes had glared at our passing and to return without me was laughable. We finally stopped at a part down the road, before we hit a fork that would split toward the decimated Temple of Sacred Ashes and the other toward the open world of Ferelden.

"So what was it about something personal?" I prompted. My butt had found a solid seat on a pile of shattered firewood, covered in snow and perhaps forgotten. Aclassi hesitated with his feet shuffling under him. A snort escaped me and laughter came up in a bubble. "It's a bit late to be nervous now, you just walked out with the Herald. People are gonna talk."

A grin came to his face and he turned his gaze toward me. "I suppose getting caught with the Herald isn't all bad." Another laugh escaped me, because his smile was genuine and teasing, but far beyond anything romantic. That smile, and his attitude, reminded me too much of my older brother. A pang of affection reverberated in my chest and it relaxed me.

"Say that after you've actually seen me in the morning." I teased, notching a finger at him. For the briefest moment, happiness warmed me.

The lieutenant's grin grew and he relaxed, shoulders dropping. "That's fair, but consider that my boss is a Qunari and I've seen things."

More laughter bubbled up within me, my hands clapped in front of my chest. "Like twisted knickers, for instance?"

"Yeah, no. Good thing it wasn't his knickers, if he wears 'em." He paused, a face was made, and then: "Ugh, right. Moving on." Breathless laughter held me hostage against the pile of firewood and Aclassi's tan face bloomed with a blush that nearly reached his ears. It was several seconds before laughter didn't strike me with all the force of lightning at the sight of Aclassi's face.

"Alright, my bad. Derailed conversation." My thumbs wiped at my eyes, my abdominals twitching as faint laughter still tickled from within my gut.

"What I had wanted to talk about, vehemently ignoring the imagery of any Qunari knickers," he hissed at me, grin teasing, "was talking about the Qunari himself. He's been quieter than usual lately, and it's been worrying some of the guys." A figurative bucket of ice doused any bout of humor that still lingered within my soul and I shuddered. There was a quiet pause that was slowly growing heavy.

My sigh broke through it. "That's... I'm probably the one to blame for that. How is that personal, though? Is Bull thinking of pulling out?" It would make sense, as much as my heart trembled at the thought of losing a companion, people were free to do as they wanted. If he wanted to keep his people safe, I wasn't about to argue against it.

"No, he's been acting... different. Not strange. He's always been upfront with us, but when you returned from the Mire, there was..." Aclassi's face had warred between confusion and frustration, his brow puckered from effort and his hands fluttered around him, grasping at straws to explain himself. Nothing seemed to work.

"Did he say anything to you about me?" I asked neutrally, my gaze level on his face and empty. My heart shriveled behind my lungs, wondering if Bull was now planning on turning his back on us, not to keep his people safe, but to turn them on me. What dark thoughts you have, my dear, my wicked wolf sang.

All the better to bury myself with, I replied softly.

Aclassi shook his head, "No, but that's... where it gets personal. I don't know what's going on between you and the big guy, but he's still - he's our commander, and he doesn't like it, but we worry about him, and whatever happened has him all knotted up."

Gently, my brow furrowed. "How... do you know he's been acting different?"

"Strangely," Aclassi exhaled roughly, eyes pinned on me, "he's gentler with us, like he's considering something about us. He knows us inside and out, I don't know what he's looking for, but he's got his mind focused on it, almost to the point of distraction." Contemplation struck me as I considered the lieutenant before me. Bull may have been a spy, but everyone was fallible. Everyone could make a mistake.

The young solider stood before me, his eyes begging for answers.

"Stitches knows some of it." I began, listless in my tone. A inhale drew through my lungs but helped nothing with my nerves. My gaze fell to Aclassi's feet. My hand wrung together, fear laced my throat like acid. "Probably figured out much of what I am is a lie."

"Everyone's got secrets, we know that." Aclassi placated gently. "I just don't know why the big guy would be so worried about them now."

"Because now the implications are more than just whether or not I get an inheritance." I murmured. I couldn't give Aclassi the whole story, but he was less capable than Bull in keeping his demeanor under pressure. Bull had years of training, and true he was slipping now, but he could manage to keep a secret.

Partial truths are better than nothing.

"You're not an orphan, I can understand that." Aclassi huffed, attempting to keep his tone light.

"I'm not an orphan, I'm... not from here, Aclassi." My hands shook. Of all the people I had considered telling my story, Aclassi was so out of left field that I didn't even consider him to be in the same sporting event. Carefully, I brought my gaze up to his face and it was marred with a twisted mouth, trying to piece together the vague statements I threw at him.

"I can give you the basics, so maybe you can understand where your boss is coming from, yeah?" Aclassi's nod was tentative and short, his ears flushed with his nerves and his hands clenched at his sides. Instinctively, I reached over and patted the logs beside him, beckoning him to sit. The hesitation was small, but he caved and came next to me, close enough to keep me warm.

I smiled and tipped my head to him. "It's Jaime Wyatt. I'm twenty-six, for sure, but I'm not from here. I don't have a family here, but I've been in one. Brothers, mother, father. I'm educated, I know a lot more about how the world works, but not how this world functions." Perhaps I was giving too much away? There was no guarantee that Aclassi would keep my secret, or whatever he gleamed from it.

"I'm not what I appear to be," I murmured, my hands shaking as I gripped them together, "but if people knew what I was, I would be dead." An exaggeration? Maybe. I doubted anyone would be able to get past Leliana to hang a noose around my neck for my heretical existence, lest of all Cassandra, but the religious sort sometimes got a little too excited.

Aclassi sat next to me, his elbows on his knees and his back hunched, his head bowed and his gaze to the dirt path in front of us. We sat together for several minutes and I didn't elaborate further, because then I was only added more to the storm rather than calming it. I would have to let Aclassi come to his own conclusions.

And he did.

His head raised and I turned to look at him, my expression carefully silent of emotion. His dark eyes bore into me and it was all I could do not to flinch and drop my chin to my chest, bring my eyes away from whatever he looked for within them. This might have been what it felt like with his Qunari commander peering into them after the Fallow Mire.

"He's reassessing us." Aclassi murmured and leaned back to stare out into the woods before us. "He's assessing who can be trusted. Damn. I should have recognized it."

"I mean, technically." I teased weakly. "You did."

A hand ran through his short hair. "Damn, whatever you told him... it's got him scared. Scared enough that he's got to reevaluate the team." My head tilted, surprised. I hadn't considered the fact that my little story could scare someone like the Iron Bull. On reflection, I should have seen that it would. Someone appearing through the Gates of the Dead (for reference), armed with a singular tool that would make or break Armageddon.

I blinked, shit. I hadn't thought about that at all.

"Aclassi." I whispered. "What do you think I am?"

The man blinked over at me, confused, and stuttered: "A girl? A woman, pard'n, Your Worship. A woman... thrust into our world through... unusual means, in a desperate time in our lives."

"Is that all?" A chuckle came up and I turned toward him. "Sounds like one of Varric's stories."

"I don't see why you couldn't be." Aclassi answered helplessly. "Fell from the Breach, close rifts, fight demons, mysterious background, I mean - Maker, you're just missin' the love interest."

My eyebrows waggled. "Interested?" Whatever tension that had gripped Aclassi popped at my suggestion and the lieutenant caught himself in a snort of laughter, face red from his nose to his chin. A grin flirted with my mouth, pleased to have gotten him out of his spiral into the unknown. I had been there before and though I struggled to save myself from it, it was easy to pull someone else from the brink.

"Nah, I don't think I'm your type, Your Worship." He snorted.

Mockingly offended, and not quite ready to return to the dire situation at hand, I huffed. "Excuse you. How would you know? Said it yourself, I don't have a love interest."

"No, that's mostly because Qunari don't recognize your style of flirting, if I may say so." Aclassi returned swiftly, a smirk planted firmly on his face. Heat engulfed my ears and my blood pressure rushed into my sinuses and open cavities of my eardrums. With a narrow gaze, I pinned him with a finger.

"You snitch and you're getting stitches, Aclassi."

"So it is the boss."

My hand came down on his head and shoved, but the lieutenant was hiccupping with laughter regardless of my scorn. Desperately I fought the smile that threatened to break across my face. Just an hour or so before and I was lamenting the blackness that was my soul in a world of no friends and this creature swooped in to take my terror and transform it.

Again, my heart swelled with affection for the young man and my smile won over.

"In any case," I diverted, "don't let anyone tell you that you're not a handsome man, Aclassi."

The young man flushed and cleared his throat, hesitant. "Well... if we're sharing revelations... figured I wasn't your type on account that I was born a woman, just prefer being... me." For the briefest, tiniest nanosecond my world paused and tilted. A blink later and I glanced at him obliquely. We shared a look and in the end, I pouted. It had been a revelation, as it hadn't occurred to me that transgender folk would exist even in a world not my own. But that's stupid. It's probably like it was in my world, they exist, but the taboo hasn't been fully removed. Fuck. Instead of tripping over my idiocy, I focused my gaze on Aclassi.

"That's not fair." I finally said, much to his surprise.

"Wut?" He hiccupped. "What isn't fair?"

"If I tried pulling off a haircut like that, I'd look like a mabari. Unfair ambiguous facial structure." My pout cemented my comment and had Aclassi in another round of laughter, a hand to his mouth as he shook his head, perhaps pinched by my audacity. Nothing in his appearance changed for me, now knowing that he mirrored my genitalia only meant he was far better at keeping secrets than I had given him credit for.

"Well. That's, that's not the response I was expecting, but I'll take it." He held out his hand to me and instinctively, I took it, charmed by our little bonding moment. "To well kept secrets, aye?"

"Aye, aye." I grinned and pumped his hand once, only to follow up with a very weak imitation of a fist bump. He stared at me, confused, and shook his head a second time.

"See, now I understand why the boss is worried. If we weren't the Chargers, anyone else would think you were mad." Aclassi stood and brushed off his backside. He raised a hand for me and I took it again, standing with a slip off the log and brushing my pants with my free hand.

"I'm not mad, I'm not the one that took a contract to wear chicken feathers."

Aclassi smirked, folding my hand in his arm to lead us back toward Haven. "Madly in love, maybe."

"Snitches get stitches, Aclassi. Remember that."

That was one flower petal in my favor, at least.

There was a bit of pondering to do now. Aclassi and I traveled back up the path to Haven where we parted ways. He was off back to the Chargers camp and I needed to take a detour and talk to a certain Warden. Iron Bull was reassessing his people, calculating who could be trusted in case word got out, in case Stitches said too much, in case the refugees of Haven continued to talk. I had been ignorant to think that no one else would have heard.

Warden Blackwall was a man intensely focused and driven, Lady Vivienne with her elegant spider's web amongst the nobles and Chantry, Sera who's ear was pressed under the ground of the commoner's world, and Varric, a long-standing companion who's imagination and clever tongue had gotten him a failed audience with the late Divine Justinia.

I could no more play them the fools than I could play the innocent orphan girl. There were far too many things ingrained in all of us that couldn't be scratched away with a few words or practiced mimicry. Reflectively, I knew Sera would not care too much about who or what I was, only that I got the job finished and she could go back to her way of things. I suspected that any mention of other dimensions or worlds would not be her cup of tea based on her reaction to the Fallow Mire.

Varric, I felt, deserved much more than I had given him credit for, given the long weeks and months that he had cared for me in the beginning. He never questioned my odd nature, or my anxieties, or my terrors as I faced the world of Thedas. He merely comforted and offered what support he could, without payment. Yes, the dwarf was owed much more than I had given him.

Blackwall and Vivienne, though proven skilled, were still a stone's throw from being completely trusted. Vivienne, despite her sharpened honesty that fell from her tongue, clearly had other plans beyond the Inquisition. She meant to survive and see past the finish line, that was for damn sure. What her goal was, I didn't know her well enough to speculate, and I wasn't Bull, so I couldn't analyze people like he could.

The Warden was another unknown. Though fiercely patriotic to Thedas and saving it from hell, his own history was about as dubitable as mine. A lone and haggard warden misplaced from his kin, and those same kin nowhere to be found. Did it have anything to do with the Breach? I couldn't begin to speculate on that either, but it made trusting him with my story even less likely.

Blackwall and Vivienne, for the moment, were two checks on the list of 'Possibly'.

Varric was a 'Most Definitely'.

Sera was a 'I Don't Fucking Know'.

Oddly, I was reluctant to start with Varric. I trusted the dwarf with more than my life, for certain, but conjecture led me to believe he would be the most long-winded conversation (hopefully). Vivienne was too far off into the bowels of the Chantry with Solas and pouring over the skin samples. Sera was a ghost amongst the people of Haven, so that left me with my nearest and most pressing companion: Blackwall.

My nose scrunched at the idea, but do as I must, I trudged up to the cabin he had taken up with Harritt. The Warden in question sat atop a wooden crate with a knife in one hand and a block of misshapen wood in the other. As I drew closer, I could see the faint makings of a ship, or an extremely misfortunate duck. As my shadow drew over his shoulders, he took a few seconds more to swipe off a slice or two of wood before he leaned back to peer up at me.

"Finally come to talk, have you?"

Oh, it's going to be like that, is it?

"It just occurred to me that I should, but by your tone of voice, this was planned." I replied waspishly. It was the wrong fucking foot to start on, but I wasn't going to be made to feel guilty already. I mean, I already did with all the secrets I hoarded under my heart, but he didn't need to know that (or salt it further). My hands balled into fists and were shoved into the pockets of my coat. The Warden stood and I made no attempt to step back as he invaded my space and we were a hand length apart.

I had faced down Leliana, there was hardly any human that scared me more than her.

"What's - no." He exhaled roughly and tossed the mutilated wooden duck (ship?) onto the crate, the wood giving a small clatter. "I don't know what's going on anymore."

"Well, at least we're at square one together." The joke was reflexive, and unappreciated if his frown was anything to go by.

"I need you to be honest with me." He demanded lowly. "Because I don't understand what you're planning anymore."

A sigh rattled through me and I lent back but kept my feet firmly planted. "Give me your perspective, and we'll see where we've missed each other."

"This," he growled with an impulsive wave of his hand over Haven, "as I understood it, our duty was to close up the rifts and seal the Breach, save these people, Maker - help them, even, if the opportunity presented itself." I remained quiet, because I had given him full permission to vent until his balls turned blue. When he saw that I was not going to retaliate (because why would I, I didn't know what bothered him yet), he flared under his coat and his beard bristled with the twitch of his cheeks.

"But this last mission, you seem intent on divesting yourself of that responsibility." He finished with a tucked chin. At my confused blink, he added: "Back at the Fallow Mire, I didn't see a leader doing the best for her men, I saw a woman throwing herself at danger and not seeming to give a lick about what happened to her."

"Excuse you," I snapped, unable to hold my tongue with a quiet fury building beneath my bowels, "are you calling me suicidal?"

"If the key fits," he answered darkly, a strange twist to the ellipsis of 'if the shoe fits.' My fingernails bit into my palms and with a gnarly force of will I kept my knees locked against each other and stiff. In no form was I going to step back, a rage now settled in my stomach and the acid seemed to boil within it. I couldn't muster enough to bring it to the surface. I remained, quiet and reeling, already exhausted from the small exchange.

"Is that what you think this is?" I asked quietly with my molars glued together. "Just some elaborate plan to get myself killed?"

"I understand the responsibility of command and how heavy it can be," he murmured, his brow lowered over his eyes, "I also know that if you let it smother you, it will kill you. The Inquisition cannot afford to lose you, not when so much hope is dependent on you." Ash exploded in my throat, my tongue and teeth painfully dry as disbelief washed over me. You can't just shut down, Jaime, what about work? What about school? What about - constant reminders of guilt that anything else than normal was selfish.

"I can say something incredibly cliché and tell you that you don't know a fucking thing about me." I rumbled with hands tightly fisted in my pockets. I wanted to slap him. It was such a childish, dramatic desire, but damn he had peeled my skin right off my bone. "Sometimes people get tired, Warden, and some of us can't just stop to take a break, we can't just relax, we can't just close our eyes and mediate and reflect and whatever other bullshit self-help mantra you want to think up."

The Warden blinked and stepped back, surprised by my low thundering emotion.

"Sometimes," I choked and felt my toes curl within my boots, "we're just tired and it takes so much effort just recognizing that we're tired, or that something hurts, or whatever the fuck, and trying to deal with it is just as hard." Fuck me, I could feel tears at the corners of my eyes. A hard blink and my vision watered, blurring the Warden's face, but at least I could feel nothing fall down my cheeks.

"Herald," he breathed and reached out to take my shoulder. Now I was going to be childish, I finally took a step back and yanked my shoulder away before he could place his hand on it. We stared at each other and I could see the faint smoke of pity glaze his eyes. Like a coin flip, my stomach flopped from wretched sadness to a metallic tang of anger.

"Jaime," I spat. "I'm fucking twenty six years old with no family, no friends, and no one that gives a damn about me beyond being the fucking Herald." My left hand flew out of my pocket and the Mark was already a silently hissing and sputtering in my palm. "I'm trying to give you what I can, damn it, and that's sealing the Breach, I get it, but for fuck's sake don't get pissed at me when I just want to blankly go through the motions and get through another day!"

"Jaime." He tried, softer than before, his face pale with fright. "Look, I understand, trust me, I do. I know what it's like to be looked to for answers and not have them, but just going through the routine - there's nothing routine about fighting demons or closing up the Fade, you shouldn't just let yourself fall into that."

"It's what I have." I exhaled roughly with a glare. "I can't just sit back when there's people waiting to be saved, soldiers spared, camps cleared, I can't just tag someone else and tell them good luck, safe trip - this isn't leadership, Warden. A commander can cease fire, can pull back and reform, but I can't. The rifts never stop coming, the demons never stop appearing - and all I have to get me through the day is 'one more, just one more fight, one more demon down' and I -"

I was getting too fucking emotional. Far more than I wanted to, gods be damned, wasn't he supposed to be the easiest of the lot to talk to about this? The Mark blinded me for a moment as I wiped at my face. There was no trace of tears, for which I was thankful for, but it already felt like I had cried a river. There was a crunch of snow to my left and I nearly jumped through my bones as a warm hand landed on the small of my back. I looked over, saw nothing, and immediately looked down.

"C'mon, sweetheart." Varric ignored the Warden and smiled softly for me. "I think you've done enough 'resting' for now. C'mon." He tugged at my hand as it floated down by my side and lamely, I followed him. Blackwall made a move to come a step closer and Varric swiftly held up a finger, his thumb a trigger over his pointed finger, a clear warning shot.

Blackwall stayed, distraught by our frayed conversation.

Shamefully, I took my salvation in Varric's foot steps.