#bethany like 'you wouldnt have let it get that far.'

[grapecaseschoices]

hawke sisters hurting me good

[thecharlesdilaurentis-blog]

Maya and her part!

**WARNING SUPER LONG IM SORRY**

Recently a fan tweeted Marlene asking if mayas storyline was over and she replied saying their may be a bit more to it. So I went back and tried to see what I could make out of the maya clues and how she fits into everything. 

I always love maya and emaya but her character always seemed a bit sketchy at times kinda like alison. (remember this)

when her and emily first meet she seems REALLY interested in getting to know emily, she was asking tons of personal questions about ali and herself, answering questions with a question, and she was being super friendly and almost choosy with her words, almost as if she had other intentions when she met her. What if she was told to get close to her? (Kind of like ezra & cece already knowing who all the girls were and jenna already knowing alison) 

In S1: “The jenna thing”, maya meets spencer and when her and emily go back to her house she says “I get your connection to spencer, you both like to win.” and emily replies “well winnings great but usually if I do my best im happy with the outcome.” and maya chooses to move the topic to spencer by asking how she feels about winning which always kind of stuck out to me. Emily tells her spencer HAS to win.

I just never quite understood why Maya only really asked questions about spencer, I know you could argue she was just trying to get to know emily but throughout the episodes maya’s in we don’t really see her interested in knowing about all the liars to me it seemed like she asked about spencer only because she reminded her the most of Ali.

& then maya moves the conversation to Alison again saying how she seemed like she was always the center of attention. Then tells emily she usually runs from those girls. Em says “you don’t look like the type of girl who runs from anyone” and Maya moves the convo to something else. (WHO U RUNNIN FROM MAYA)

Also later in the night when emily turns around maya immediately goes and cuddles with her almost like she KNOWS emily was in the closet. She said she had a boyfriend & i dont think it was something she just did in her sleep. + the A alerts afterwards were right on time, something was up. 

this also happens again when they kiss in the photo booth and A steals the strips right away. & maya tells emily not to worry about it that it there was probably just no more paper & drags her away. MAYA WAS IN ON IT THE WHOLE TIME. She was used to bring em out the closet and let A use it against her. 

Also in S2: “I must confess” Maya is scene wearing the exact same tory burch boots -A ordered online. (couldnt find a pic though)

But I think somewhere along the way maya started to really develop feelings and wanted out but A/AD or someone connected to them had stuff on maya forcing her to stay in it so she chooses to run away but A gets her first and kills her before she can get far.

Now lets go back to what I said earlier about her kind of acting like Alison

In the pilot maya asks emily if shes ever smoked and em replies No. Maya says this and the way she says it for some reason really just reminds me of something Ali would say. 

& then later in the episode Spencer sees who she thinks is Ali in Mayas room (ali’s old room) 

But what’s odd is that this person is wearing the same tank Maya was wearing the whole episode.

now this can be explained in a couple ways, either:

1. maya found a blonde wig while looking through the dilaurentis house and tried it on to pretend to be ali.

2. that was really or ali or maybe an ali twin and she was talking to maya & wearing a similiar top? (this one seems too much but wouldnt be surprised if the writers went this way.)

3.maya bought a blonde wig & was really trying to pretend to be someone maybe a trick she learned from a real blonde she knew who liked to wear wigs & be someone else.

       - i’m thinking its this last one! (or i hope it is)

In S2E12: “eye of the beholder” Jason tells em & spencer that maya found some of Ali’s old things in the attic, “Like they were hidden” he thought they threw everything away but maya kept some things, maybe b/c she knew what they were for.

Another thing I wanna point out is maya has mentioned on more than one occasion (1.02 & 1.12) that she has trouble sleeping. I mean I would have trouble sleeping too if I was worried my secrets may catch up to me.

Now I know there a lot of maya theories & some have even said they think she’s A. I don’t think I could really hop on board with maya being A but I do think when mona said “MAYA KNEW” she really meant maya fucking knew, like she knew the game & knew what was going on & just how dangerous A could really be. 

Okay so, we all know there seems to be a couple different teams when it comes to PLL and their alliances. Theres, 

AD & Cece (& maybe someone else? idk yet still looking into this)

Theres the Liars 

Then theres AD’s pawns (Jenna, Noel, Lucas, Shana, Alison (sometimes), Garrett, Mona etc.)

Well i think maya started off as one of these pawns but like all the people above at some point they wanted out and like I said above its likely so did she. 

It’s possible that maybe Ali and Maya knew eachother prior to her disapperance maybe they met on vacation… at cape may.

I saw this picture when I searched up maya clues on google and I almost screamed! I think this Analyzing A tumblr acct found it so i’ll put her link:

http://analyzinga.tumblr.com/post/44225287853/major-clue-possible-spoiler-alert

Could this mean this is Maya’s unnamed brother? Did she also hang out with Ali, Cece, & Melissa during that summer? Or was she scared of them like she mentioned to emily about attention seeking girls like Alison?

Now I heard from twitter it may be fake but still why would they make the mistake of putting it in the credits? Idk I just think it would be a nice twist for maya to have a deeper connection to Ali than just living in her house. 

UPDATE: MARLENE SAID WE’RE MEETING AN UNKNOWN RELATIVE OF MAYA’S! Some people meationed that reporter Aria went off on in 7.12 may be her brother but I couldn’t find a pic and I didn’t wanna sit through hulu commercials to find out so if someone finds the pic reblog it cause I wanna knowwww!

I mean we find out they had to have known each other either way or at least met before b/c they were both staying in the kahn cabin around the same time!

Also when Ali and Maya’s body are found the scene is so similar they even play the same song.

I think at first Alison gave Maya the idea to fake her death & Noel, Garrett, & Jenna helped her carry it out. 

Marlene also posted this pic on insta w/ 2 dolls that w/ the hashtag #emison but to me the 2 dolls look more like ali and maya then ali and em. Idk I just think there’s alot more to their relationship than we know right now. 

Now lets talk about the night mayas body was presumably found:

Maya trys to call emily but she cant get service so it never goes through, I don’t think this was maya b/c her phone was already stolen by this point. I think A just was trying to distract emily to mess with hanna.

Jumping ahead to when Mona falls off the cliff, we get a zoom in on her watch that says its 12am. The girls then go back to their houses and the cops have a body they think is Mayas.

BUT we later see this video of Maya at the kahn cabin at 1:14am

So are we just really gonna believe it took the liars OVER 1hr & 30m to get to thier houses?? B/c maya had to have got kidnapped and then dragged over to emilys back yard from the cabin and murdered. Which just in my head doesn’t add up with the timeline.

In addition to this I noticed when Maya gets pulled out of the cameras view it doesn’t necessarily mean she was captured by A, I think theres a good chance it was Ali who pulled on her to take her out of view and talk to her. We know Ali was staying there too so maybe she already knew where the cameras were and didnt wanna take any chances being seen seeing as this was before A supposedly knew Ali was alive. 

Now lets talk about after her “Death”:

We find out Maya went to the kahn parties often and met holden before, she was also friendly with Jenna, we see her get into a car with garrett the night she died (But we know he didnt kill her because he was arrested at 12am) & its when Nate (lyndon) is introduced and he is accused of being the one who killed Maya. 

Nate never openly says he killed Maya, in fact some of the things he says when he tries to kill paige kind of indicate he thinks emily has something to do with her death. 

He says “Im gonna do to you, what you did to me. Im gonna take someone from you & you are gonna watch me do it.” 

Its also been speculated that Maya was involved in the night em dug up Ali’s grave b/c they used her bottle of pills to drug her (which was also prescribed after she died) & flashbacks she remembers having + jenna lies to her saying she found her on the street drunk when spencer asks why she lied she says b/c she’s protecting a friend.

This was also one of the flashbacks she remembers having,

LIKE COME ON WHO ELSE WOULD WRITE THAT???

Most of me really does believe Maya did end up really dying sometime later before the end of season 3 or in the beginning of season 4 

The girls do find this carved into the dollhouse in S6 maybe AD found maya & took her to the doll house to be his Ali for a while before Mona got there.

But idk i’ve also read alot of theories w/ extra clues and reasons she could indeed still be alive helping out emily and hiding from AD or might even be bethany young herself. So theres that lol. I’m just excited to know that Maya still is relevant b/c her character had so much potential, hopefully mar doesn’t fuck it up!!

Reblog & tell me what you think, do you think maya’s still alive or dead? & if she wasn’t the person in the body bag in 2.25 then who was? 

[griffinsanddragons]

Unexpected Developments [Part Two]

Hawke recruits Isabela to help her tie a few ‘loose ends.’  

Read: Part One on Tumblr!

Also on AO3!

I finally came through and wrote the thing. We’re following Isabela and we love her so happy readings!

Something was different; Isabela knew the moment Hawke entered the room.   She hadn’t seen much of her since the expedition. Aveline delivered the bad news about Bethany and Hawke needed space to grieve. Merrill, Varric, Anders, and everyone else who’d seen her, spoke about Hawke anxiously. She’d been quiet, they said, distant, angry–though she wouldn’t admit it–and there was a sad, faraway look in her eye that made her seem small. But today, her presence resounded off the Hanged Man’s drafty walls, amassing the attention of every crook, con, bandit, low-life, mercenary and thief she passed by. Hawke–who made a name for herself working for Athenril in the criminal underground, survived the Deep Roads, and got rich–was back. And it would have been normal, Isabela thought, had she had something to come back for. 

[Read More]

“Isabela!”  Hawke greeted her with a wide, excited grin and ordered a drink, the Hanged Man’s finest–though it really wasn’t much. She seemed to be in good spirits today–or rather good enough–nodding and listening to her prattle on about the Rivani Merchant Council Ship she saw at the harbor that morning, (“I’d bet my ass the poor thing’s heading back to Dairsmuid to escort some Merchant Prince selling tea or something–what a waste,”) listening with varying degrees of interest, her eye’s a little wider than they needed to be. “You’re looking perky today. What’s got you better? Have you found someone who’ll…curl your toes in Hightown?” Isabela leaned forward, her movements slow and languid as she slouched into a comfortable position in her seat, “Is it someone I know?” “No!” Hawke asserted, now stiff as well as upright in her chair, “I’m not–I’m not looking for a partner, Isabela!” “Who said anything about a partner?” A large, mischievous grin pulled at the tops of her sparsely freckled cheeks, “I’m talking about a good old-fashioned rub down. That’s what you need. I know a girl, and a fellow if you’d prefer-” “I do not.” She cut her off. Hawke spoke in a stern, affronted voice reminiscent of a Noble in a crooked wig; Between the smuggling, fighting, sarcasm, killing and mercenary work they’ve done together, Isabela nearly forgot that she’d been raised by a parent of righteous, noble birth–the type of Mother who’d encouraged the children to shy away from such ‘improper matters in polite company,’ use the right forks and never threaten the houseguests (unless it was necessary.) Her reaction reminded her of Bethany.

Though that was a topic Isabela couldn’t breach. Even now, as she watched Hawke swirl and nurse her drink, she could see the toll of her grief; The days have not been kind.

She should probably say something. Everyone had said something, everyone but her.

But it wasn’t for a lack of trying. She did, on more than one occasion, try to find a way to tell Hawke she was sorry for what happened to her sister, but her efforts only got as far as the door. She considered climbing in through the window and shouting ‘surprise!’  but whatever ill-conceived speech she came up with could never compare to the real support Hawke already received. She couldn’t be that type of friend–but that didn’t seem to matter, not to Hawke; they picked right up where they left off: giggling over drinks at the Hanged Man as the drunkards sang and tried to play a broken lute. “Alright, alright, no need to twist your knickers. What’s really got you so excited?” “Aveline–” Hawke spoke as though she suddenly remembered what had been on her mind, “I saw her today and she reminded me of something I have to do.” Isabela rolled her eyes and took the last of her drink, desperately hoping she wouldn’t regret the end of the story. “What’s our ‘Captain’ got you doing for her now? Let me guess, disrupting more fine business practices?” “Not exactly. She told me I needed to find a way to take my mind off…well, you know.” she took a letter from the pocket of her leggings and slid it Isabela’s way.

It didn’t say much, there wasn’t even a sender, but there was a list of names–of Templars who were responsible for taking Bethany away.

She recognized one of them–Cullen–but the others were a mystery. “After she accused me of murder, I figured I’d do some investigating of my own.” “What’re the slashes for?” Those were recent additions–fat black lines unevenly smudged as though a left-handed person dragged their hand across the page as they made them. There were only so many left-handed people in the world and there was ink smudged against the knuckle of Hawke’s little finger. “Oh that mean’s they’re dead,” she shrugged. “The guards found them at the docks.” “Well, there are worse places to go.” Isabela peered into her empty cup, watching the last of the droplets race like rain against the window. “They could have been found in Hightown–now that would cause a stir.” “My thoughts exactly.” Hawke smiled at Isabela, her eyes growing larger and even more disquieting. “And as much as I appreciate it, I don’t know who sent me this–or why. But if they’re murdering people to get my attention, I should see what they want.” “It could be a trap.” Or any number of things. Hawke was a well-known woman with both friends and enemies–and this ‘friend’ could be either one with ease. “It could be. I asked Varric to investigate but the trail went cold, he’s been pouring all he has into searching for Bartrand.” She passed Isabela her unfinished drink. “But he was able to tell me one thing: one of these men, the dead one, was a patron at the  Blooming Rose. And if I’m lucky, my ‘friend’ might have paid them a visit as well.” “And if he has?” Isabela leaned forward with her elbows on the table, her interest piquing at the meat of the story. “I can tie up a few…loose ends.” Hawke had a way of masking her intent with words that were only slightly threatening and Isabela liked that type of honesty. “Will you help me?” “Well, “ She pretended to think, “you did promise to keep that last relic mishap to yourself, so…” She agreed.

They followed the infamous maze of twisting streets to the long turning stairs that lead to Hightown. By the time they reached their destination, her muscles were wound and taut from exertion. She cursed. “Damn.” Isabela never cared much for Hightown; The buildings there were different than anywhere else in Kirkwall: bigger, cleaner, more pristine–each clamoring for the attention of wealthy nobles and foreign merchants; and utterly lacking in character. Girls dressed in fine silk and patterned lace greeted them outside. It was the sweet smells and the lulling song of a Harp, however, that drew the crowds inside. “Ah, the blooming rose.” Isabela sighed, perking at the sight of half naked courtesans lounging on the couches and chairs. The air inside was sticky with the scent of sweat, sex, and contrasting perfumes, but no one seemed to care or even notice the overbearing menagerie. “Where people come…and then go.” Hawke chuckled at her innuendo. “Make yourself scarce,” she whispered as she approached the counter to Distract Madam Lusine who, judging by the look of recognition in her eye, was torn between the knowledge of Hawke’s rise to nobility (and the coin she undoubtedly had,) and sour thoughts of their last meeting. “Ah, Serah Hawke.” Lusine greeted, brushing her graying curls behind her back. “Lovely to see you again.” While her back was turned, Isabela leaped behind the counter with little more than a low thud to mark her presence and slid the hefty book into her arms. The dark skin of her thighs flushed red against the cold, grainy stone as she sat and skimmed the book for names, dates, payments and appointments. “Have you come to buy, or are you merely wasting time?” She could hear the conversation going south ( as Hawke’s charms could only take her so far.) Quickly, Isabela flipped the next two pages and finally the found the man listed in the letter. He’d been seeing a woman called ‘Sunny’–and quite frequently, it seemed. Isabela slid the book back in its place and popped to Hawke’s side in an instant, slipping her arm around her friend with a wink. “We’re here to see Sunny,” Isabela purred, the woman’s name rolling off her tongue like a wave on the open sea. “Oh. Mistress Isabela. I wasn’t aware the two of you were…together.” Lusine threw the pair a sideways glance. “Either way, Sunny isn’t here–haven’t seen the girl in days.” “And you wouldnt happen to know where she is, would you?” Hawke asked. “I don’t make a habit of telling a client’s my worker’s personal lives, for obvious reasons. So if you need to see Sunny, I suggest you come back another day.” She spoke with the hard conviction of a woman determined to take the final word. “Now I do have other customers, so will that be all?” “That’ll be all.” Isabela nodded, cutting in before Hawke could speak and pulled her toward the exit. “I can make her talk,” Hawke affirmed, glaring back at Lusine with narrowed eyes. “Everyone has a price.” “I know you can, Sweetness, but I like this place. We’ll find Sunny…somehow.” She knew for a fact that Lusine didn’t respond well to bribery, and Hawke’s insistence would only get her banned. But as the two approached the door to leave, a young woman called out. “Wait!” She was tall, carved like the figurehead of a merchant ship, and smelt like a field of Lavender. “Hello,” Isabela greeted, her voice low and sultry. “I heard you asking about Sunny. Do you know her?” “We’re investigating something,” Hawke began, “–for the guard.” “You don’t look like guardsmen.” “That’s because we’re not. We do the real work.” Isabela boasted, turning toward Hawke who returned the look with a simple nod. “Really?” She seemed impressed, “But you do work for the guard? I’ve seen you with the Captain before.” “She’s the reason we’re here.” Hawke didn’t lie, or at least not usually, but she did have a habit of stretching the truth to suit her fancies. Despite that, the Lavender Woman’s face brightened. “Good.” “So what’s this about Sunny? Do you know her?” “She’s my friend.” The Lavender Woman began, “I’ve been worried about her. Ever since she learned one of her clients was…murdered.” She whispered the word like a dirty phrase in the middle of the night. “The…Templar?” Hawke shifted her weight to the side. “That’s the one. She hasn’t been the same.” “Why?” Isabela cut in, “He’s just a client–or did she know him well?” “I don’t know about that–but…someone else came around asking questions about him. Someone they call ‘Dirty Fingers,’ and she gave him his name and then a few weeks later…he was dead. I told her not to blame herself, but she thinks it’s her fault.” “They call him ‘Dirty Fingers?’” Isabela stifled a tittering laugh. “And this man this…um, ’Dirty Fingers,’ do you know who he is? Where he might be?” “…If I tell you, will you try to find something that proves Sunny is innocent?” The Lavender Woman spoke quietly, taking a step forward as though to solidify their deal. “I’m sure we can make that arrangement.” “I hear he operates out of Lowtown, in the big foundry at night. Sunny’s client was found nearby.” And that’s where they found the other one too. They were on the right track.

Isabela took off to visit Fenris but agreed to meet Hawke in Lowtown that night, and when she did, she was greeted by a familiar sight. “Do you really need all that?” She asked, taking in the sight of Hawke in her shiny metal armor–just like old times. When they met, Hawke’s hair had been shorter, and straighter in a way that suggested the pulling of curls but little else about her changed; Isabela thought she’d be too busy, too wealthy, too different to get her hands dirty or join the thick of a fight. But despite her social standing, Hawke remained the same. “Only if Dirty Fingers wants to fight.” She spoke with easy amusement, carefree as though this was little more than a game and lead the way to the dock, her eyes trained forward, focused on her their target. The silhouette of the Lowtown Foundry stood high above the other buildings, it’s burnt, pungent, nauseating smell striking all who dared to wander nearby. No one but the desperate or workers ‘too good’ for the mines were bold enough to venture there. And if the smell wasn’t enough to deter curiosity, the rats surely were: large, feral creatures with sharp curling claws and yellow teeth–the worst kind, in Isabela’s seafaring opinion. She sighed and tilted her head back to gaze at the high stone tower of what used to be a mighty fortress in the Tevinter days. “So this is where your ‘secret admirer’ lives?” She squinted. “No worse than Darktown I suppose. At least there’s a view of the sky.” The wind picked up, hoisting the waves and lavishing her cheeks with salt spray. She should have grabbed a warmer tunic. The Foundry was mostly empty and surprisingly clean. Four cheaply dressed henchmen staggered around inside, laughing and drinking. It wasn’t until Hawke cleared her throat that they noticed them and hastily scrambled to take arms but Isabela was prepared.  Her daggers found her palms as easy as the bones in her fingers and she passed through the world like a ghost, the presence of her blades more felt than seen as she sunk back into the shadows and struck the Henchman down. Hawke had a more direct approach when dealing with hostile enemies–hack, slash, shield bash–but both proved to be sufficient. The henchmen fell to the ground, grunting and groaning in what could easily pass as an old Orlesian symphony. “Well, that was lovely.” Hawke flung the blood from her blade as she stepped around a writhing body. “I didn’t expect there to be guards. Where do you think they get these guys?” “I haven’t a clue.” They followed a path that twisted between four large vats, leading to a propped open door. The room was small and smelt like rum and unwashed bodies. Four henchmen, each less sober than the last, fell over themselves to defend their station but to no avail.  Isabela merely shut the door in front of them. “Kill the intruders!” Someone yelled from the stairwell and more henchman appeared, some stumbling but other coherent as they fought. Victory came easy but Isabela was injured in the fight, grazed by a dagger on her arm and across the leg–but the other guy had it worse. Still, she hissed at the hot sting of pain and scowled at the blood flowing like streams across her skin. That wouldn’t look pretty in the morning. “Catch,” Hawke tossed her a potion to drink, the last one in her pouch. “Save it. It’s just a few scratches–nothing a trip to Darktown can’t fix.” If she even needed that. She’d been in far worse duels with far fewer resources in the past, she’d survive. “I’m wearing armor,” Hawke gestured at herself and the heavy metal plates that covered her tall frame. “And you know there are more of them up there…somewhere.” She almost sighed at the thought of more drunken henchmen hiding in the dark but headed toward the stairs regardless, calling back to Isabela to follow or risk being left behind. Still, she hesitated. Gazing up at Hawke before looking at the potion she tossed her way. She sighed, exhaling a warm, tired breath that showed her exhaustion. She took a quick sip of the potion and dried her mouth against her glove before following, the pain from her injuries began to numb so she’d save the rest for something important. A few more henchman straggled behind and others pretended to be dead. Isabela picked the lock of the room they should have been guarding and a man stood in the center to greet them. He jumped but managed to steel himself quickly,  even as Hawke lined the tip of her sword to his neck. “You might want to consider hiring new help. That whole ‘kill the intruders’ thing didn’t exactly work out. I mean…we’re here,” she said in a sweet sounding voice, though the danger behind her lighthearted words was clear. “You’re ‘Dirty Fingers,’ I presume?” He didn’t look like a hardened criminal, though the best never did; he was paler than he should be, shaking, and his arms were just a bit too long for his body. “You seem unwell.” “What do you want?” He hissed. “We aren’t here for the ambiance if that’s what you think.” She let out a humorless laugh. “We’re only here for Information. That’s what you do right? You trade in information?” 

“I do many things–none of them for free.” “Clever man.” Isabela could appreciate that business model though Hawke didn’t seem to agree. “I’m not paying you.” She said starkly. “Then I’m not talking!” “Oh, I think you’ll want to make an exception for us.” “And why is that?” “Because you seem like a smart man, and smart men usually understand what it means when someone holds a sword to their throat–or maybe I misjudged you,” Hawke spoke to him in the tone of a disappointed mother. “It wouldn’t be the first time I made a mistake; sometimes I need to take off an ear, or a few fingers before they really get the message.” Isabela didn’t need to look to see the deceitful smile spread across Hawke’s face to know what she wanted to do. “You threatening me? You don’t got it in y-” He was caught off guard by an unexpected stabbing. Blood dribbled out from the front of his shirt in a perfectly cut line. Hawke’s actions were smooth and precise, like dealing hands in a card game or–considering Hawke was a somewhat clumsy dealer–carving a Wintersend Turkey.

Dirty Fingers heaved and yelled and shouted, failing to bite back the pain. “Well, what do you know? It looks like I did have it in me! Though I’m more interested in seeing what you’ve got inside you.” Dirty Fingers looked up at Hawke as though he was seeing her for the first time. “Do you want to find out too?” “There’s something not right with you.” He accused, his voice rough and angry as he crouched down to his knees. “And you’re a rude, pathetic man determined to die for a secret that isn’t really his to keep–but keep talking, I’m sure insulting me is the way to get out of this.” “To the void with you!” “Well that wasn’t nice,” Isabela put in, and Hawke agreed. “Would you mind guarding the door while I talk to our friend? I’d hate to be interrupted.” “You get to have all the fun.” She crossed her arms but ultimately agreed, turning around to guard the door in case the henchmen sobered up or stopped playing dead. “Don’t worry, It’ll only take a moment.” Isabela shook her head, looking up in amusement at Hawke’s antics. That poor man. She heard him yelling, but preferred not to get in the way of Hawke’s interrogation. It wasn’t until his blood ran down the cracks in the stone flooring that Hawke called her back inside. “He said he’ll talk to us!” When she returned, DirtyFingers was laying on the ground on his side, reaching out his hand in a plead for mercy. Isabela couldn’t see his face, but she knew she didn’t want to. “He really isn’t well, but ‘Dirty Fingers’ finally has something to say. Isn’t that right?” “What do you want to know?” His words were a groan that slurred together, but it was easy to infer what it was he was saying. “You received information from a girl named ‘Sunny.’ A name. What did you do with it?” “Sold it.” “To?” A long silence drew between them, and Hawke glared down at the man bleeding out on the floor before aiming her sword and yelling. “To who!?” “Don’t know” Dirty Fingers confessed, heaving heavily as he breathed. “I don’t like being trifled with.” Her voice lowered, darkening as she spoke. “I thought you’d learned that by now– You sent someone to my home and I don’t like that. So if you don’t tell me who, I’ll make it so you’ll never speak again–Do you understand me?” Isabela’s eye’s widened in surprise at her tone, one she wasn’t sure she’d ever heard her take. 

Something in the room had shifted, a subtle feeling Isabela learned while sailing the stormy seas: Fear, despair, and the abandonment of hope–the dreaded realization her crew, or in this case Dirty Fingers, felt when they knew they wouldn’t survive until morning. “Don’t know his name! But I know his face.” “What does he look like?” “He was tall, good-looking, reclusive…he had, uh,  the look of a mage. Ferelden …I’d guess.” “ ‘The look of a mage?’ ” “The robes.” She seemed conflicted, as though she needed a moment to think. A tall, handsome, reclusive mage–she let the thought marinate. “….what color was his hair?” “What?” “His hair!” She grabbed him by the back of his shirt and flipped him to his back, exposing every bruise and cut for Isabela to see. “I won’t ask you again.” He bit his lip, tears ran down his narrow face and he might have even wet himself so the words came out rough and shaky. “It was dark!  Black as night. Eye’s too! He had a mark, like a, like a birthmark on his cheek!” Hawke took a moment to breathe, shutting her eyes and exhaling as she stood upright. “And what did he need it for? What’s his plan?” “Don’t know. Don’t ask. Please.” He sputtered. Hawke glared at him once more. “I really don’t think he knows.” Isabela folded her arms. Hawke had beaten every last piece of information from him and more. Dirty Fingers had no reason to lie. Hawke looked at Isabela, then back to the man laying on the ground and seemed to resign to something. ‘Alright,’ she thought she heard Hawke whisper as she looked down at her sword. “…well,”  she wiped the long blade clean with a handkerchief she kept in her potions pouch and dropped it on his face. “It was a pleasure doing business, Dirty Fingers. Let’s not cross paths again.” If he were lucky, he’d pick up whatever pride he had, drag himself to the docks and make his way to a city far from Kirkwall to make a living serving drinks at a tavern if he didn’t bleed out his injuries before the end of the night–but Isabela doubted he’d be lucky. Dirty Fingers was a loose end, and Hawke liked those tied.

Outside was cold and dark, the stench of the Foundry still permeated through the air but the scent of the salt in the sea felt fresh and clean near the harbor. “So…where are we going now? How do we find our Elusive Mage?” “…Anders told me he’s been working with- well, that he knows a lot of mages here. It’s a stretch, but maybe he knows our mystery man.” She spoke in a low, pensive tone, her luminous brown skin glowing in the silver moonlight. Whatever happened to her back there, she seemed to be calm and over it already. “Hawke?” She should say something. What would Aveline say? Something… something… responsibility? “Hmm?” “I…nevermind. And then what?” “We find out what business he has with me.” And tie up those loose ends. As they walked, a man staggered toward them. Large, stauch and seemingly down on his luck, he turned into an alley and stayed there, his presence ignored by those around him. “Right. So, to Darktown then?” “To Darktown.”