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shannaraisles · 7 years ago

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In Marcher Fields - Chapter 9

Poppy Hawke was never the daughter her mother wanted, the sister her twin preferred, the hero Kirkwall desired. They do not see the woman who stands between them and the chaos that threatens. No one takes the time to look, until she crosses the path of a certain Knight-Captain with demons of his own to battle …

[Read on AO3]

Warning - this chapter has references to attempted suicide, both past and present. Nothing explicit, but worth being aware of.

Chapter Nine

9:34 Dragon, Harvestmere

"Hawke's mother died in her arms tonight. Find her."

But where to begin to look? Cullen had not expected his duty-shift to end with the tattooed elf warrior emerging from the shadows by the gate to deliver that very terse message to him. Why him? Why wasn't she with her friends, her brother? Had she given them the slip all over again, just like ...

Just like last time.

One thought, one memory, and he knew exactly where to look. He had rushed through his final duties, stripped out of his armor in a hurry, left the Gallows in the pouring rain. The last time Poppy had lost someone close to her heart, she had attempted something he had never managed to draw a promise from her not to try again. Indeed, that attempt was the only reason they had found the connection they shared - he had interrupted it, prevented it, stayed with her through the long hours of her first grief over the loss of her little sister. He knew the relationship with her mother was not the close bond Poppy wanted ... would that make her grief over this loss better or worse?

Heedless of the dark clouds overhead, the rain soaking through his cloak and into the holes in his boots, he hurried on through the empty streets. Not even Kirkwall's underclasses were out in a storm like this. Down to the Docks, past the usual haunts, the familiar tavern that kept secrets with the best of them, right down to the loading pontoons and beyond, to the empty stretch of forgotten wall. He hadn't been down here in four years; didn't know why he'd come this way on that fateful night in the first place. But it was the best decision he had ever made.

Squinting through the rain, he peered into the darkness ... and there she was.

A huddled shape, seeming so much smaller than the proud Hawke the city knew, standing right on the edge of the wall, her eyes fixed on the choppy blackness of the water below. Lightning cracked across the sky, dragging the deafening thunder in its wake, and he saw the twist of guilt and grief on her face. His heart thumped, terror at what she might do when he was just a few steps away squeezing the breath from his body. He accelerated.

"Poppy!"

He barely heard his own voice above the roar of the storm, but she did. He saw the hesitation ripple through her form, saw her head rise from the water to send her gaze out across the harbor. Her weight shifted dangerously ... but he was there, large hands seizing her shoulders to pull her back from the brink, spinning her sodden form about to wrap her close against his chest.

"Don't," he breathed against her ear. "Please ... don't ..."

Poppy shuddered in his arms. He knew she could feel the pounding of his heart through the dripping layers of cloth and leather that separated them, the terror-stricken tightness of his grasp barely allowing her room to raise her own arms to wrap about his waist and cling to him as he felt her sob against his neck. And a part of him was ashamed of the relief he felt as she cried. Last time, when her sister had died, there had been no tears, no outward sign of grief but for the purpose in her step as she had tried to walk into the ocean. This time, she was feeling it, all the raw pain and guilt and aching helplessness, and he was there to hold her against it as the rain lashed at them.

"M-my mo-"

"I know," he told her simply, rubbing his hand roughly against the sodden cloak covering her back. "Come away, Poppy."

For a long moment, she was perfectly still. Then he felt her nod against his neck, felt her weight shift to let him tuck her close against his side and draw her from the precipice she had twice now contemplated in the lonely darkness. With careful steps, he guided her back to the wharf, along the abandoned street to the familiar inn that had been their refuge for four years. The tavern owner took one look at them and turned the other way, but his wife bustled out from behind the bar to promise a hot bath and a hot meal sent to their room before Cullen managed to steer Poppy to the stairs.

She was silent under his arm, a leaden weight that needed only a slight pull to change her direction or bring her to a halt. The kohl that rimmed her eyes was streaked down her face, more by her tears than by the rain; her hair was plastered to her head and cheeks. There was no life in her, none of the simmering emotion he had come to expect from the woman who had given him so much. She didn't fight him as he stripped her of cloak and clothes, wrapping her in a blanket while serving maids brought up a bath and filled it with steaming water. She barely even seemed to notice as he lowered her into the hot bath, as her skin flushed mottled pink and white with heat and cold as he gently washed the dirt from her limbs and hair and face.

Maker's blood, what was wrong with this city, with these people? These past months had grown steadily darker, more fraught with dangers, and in the center of it all was Poppy, doing the best she could to hold some semblance of peace and normality together as intrigues and schemes tore at it as hounds attacked a cornered lamb. The Chantry's involvement in the death of the viscount's son, the Qunari's constant rumblings ... she had been pushed to the heart of all those matters, and now, just when the city needed her to function, needed her to be able to stand up and command what was left of the right thinking and peace-minded ...

Cullen forced himself not to growl as he worked the soap through her honeyed brown hair, washing away blood and soot and greenish-black ichor he recognized as demon spawned. Hawke's mother died in her arms tonight. That was what the elf had said, nothing more, yet the presence of so much of the demon gore, so much blood ... Cullen could make a guess at what had happened. He had listened to Emeric's suspicions, though Meredith had not allowed action to be taken. He had heard of the missing women, of only separated body parts ever being found of them. He knew of Emeric's certainty in the evidence of advanced blood magic being practiced, and of the old templar's death as he pursued his suspicions. He knew Poppy had been hunting the murderer. It seemed the murderer had found her first - perhaps even targeted her mother in the foolish assumption that the Hawke twins would not come for him.

No doubt Alex was deep in his cups, watched over by the dwarf and the pirate and even the elven mage, yet they had not been able to find Poppy. She was Cullen's responsibility, here in the wake of yet more death, and he did not even spare a moment to wonder how the elven warrior had known to send him looking for her.

He ached for her, here and now, his silently grieving lover, not knowing what he could do or say to help her find her way back to him from the darkness that clouded her mind and heart. So he did what he could, however poor his efforts seemed to his own mind.

With hands that were gentle despite the weapon calluses that marked his touch, he washed the soap from her hair, the kohl from her face, the dirt and blood from her limbs. He dried her, dressed her in the only dry piece of clothing in the room - a forgotten shirt he had left behind him weeks ago when he had overslept. He urged her to eat when the tavern keeper's wife herself brought soup and fresh bread to them, grateful to the kind woman for having found dry clothes for them both. And when, finally, they were both dry and warm, he drew Poppy down onto the bed, wrapping her in his arms beneath the blankets, listening to the rain against the window and her shuddering breath in the darkness.

And finally, she spoke.

"It was terrible," she whispered, her voice hoarse from a throat held closed for too long. "No one deserves to die like that. She didn't deserve ..."

Cullen pressed his lips to her brow, glad to feel her shaking in his arms. Perhaps it was cruel of him, to be glad that she was feeling this so keenly, but he had not felt such heart-clenching terror in his life as had gripped him when she was silent and still. The tears, the pain, the physical sign that she was not lost forever in her own self-recriminations ... they were a sweetness she would not appreciate until long after the wound had begun to heal. A kindness he had not allowed himself in the aftermath of his own trauma, and he knew where that dark path would lead.

"Tell me," he urged gently, remembering how the simple act of sharing what had happened to him had lifted some of the burden he carried from his shoulders.

She had been the first one to ask, to listen to his tale of Kinloch and the horrors that still haunted him. It was a gift he had hoped he would never have cause to repay her in kind, yet here was that moment he had dreaded. All he could do was listen, and hope that she found some solace in speaking the words aloud.

Yet it took all his strength not to speak as she told him of her mother's suitor, of the race through the city and into the sewers, of the grisly horrors she had found in the blood mage's lair. All his endurance not to clasp her so tight that she could not breathe as she described to him the arrogance of the apostate who had butchered her mother - and so many others - to create an abomination of mortal flesh. The brutal fighting against demons and shades, the twisted remainders of the women who had lost their lives to one man's hubris and cruel selfishness, was nothing when set against the description of how Leandra had finally died, wrapped in the arms of the daughter she had dismissed, clasping the hands of the son she adored.

The last words of the woman were a harsh cruelty Cullen wished he could snatch away; words that would be etched in Poppy's heart for eternity, a constant reminder of how she had failed the mother who had failed her. My little girl has become so strong. I love you. You've always made me so proud ...

"Alex, he ... he was so angry with me." Poppy rubbed her face against his shoulder, clinging to him as her tale drew to a close. "He said, he said I should have taken better care of her. He was right, I -"

"No."

Cullen silenced her with a single word, a single finger pressed to her lips as he looked into summer sky eyes darkened with painful clouds.

"What happened ... Poppy, it was not your fault," he told her, as gentle as he was firm. "It was no one's fault but the man who did it. Be glad your mother did not die forgotten and abandoned. She knew you had come for her, you and your brother. She did not die alone. Alex is grieving, just as you are, but the bond between you is too deep to be torn asunder. He will be feeling this as a failure, exactly as you do."

"But she never ... all my life, she never once said she was proud of me, and ..."

"Shhh ..."

He gathered her closer into his arms, cursing in the silence of his mind all magic and mages, the Chantry, the Qunari, Leandra Hawke, everyone who had ever hurt this special woman who sobbed into his embrace. Cursing the city that was one fool away from utter chaos, because Poppy and her brother were the only ones who seemed able to stand up and fight for peace. And even they might not be able to summon the strength for that after this gut-wrenching tragedy.

"I cannot begin to understand or explain her for you," he murmured, "but believe me when I tell you this. No woman ever bore a daughter more lovely, more capable, more formidable than Leandra Hawke’s eldest child. You have become the beating heart of this city, and the people know it. The mages trust you, a great many of the templars trust you, the viscount trusts you, the people trust you. Fereldan or Marcher, you are the beacon they turn to because of the woman you are. She may never have said it before it was too late, but I do not doubt your mother loved you and was proud of the woman you became under her hand."

Poppy almost laughed through her tears, disbelief warring with hope in her tearful gaze as she met his fervent eyes.

"How can you possibly be so sure of that?" she asked, as if longing for some clear response, some answer that would put all this chaos and pain into a true perspective for her once again.

He stroked her damp hair back from her face, lips tenderly brushing her brow, her nose, his forehead finding a soft press against her own. What could he say? What could he possibly give her that would lend some strength for the dark days to come? He had nothing to offer her - no land, no title, no safe haven where she could live and forget the pain these past years had given her. All he had was himself, and a sudden certainty deep in his soul that he should have accepted years ago.

His lips touched hers, pouring into a kiss the warmth in his heart, drawing from the sweetness of her embrace the courage to say it aloud.

"Because I know you, Poppy Hawke," he whispered fiercely in the darkness. "Because I love you."

#in marcher fields #poppy hawke #knight captain cullen #cullen rutherford #cullen x hawke #tw: suicidal thoughts #tw: suicide attempt #ANGST #serious angst #and a teensy bit of fluff at the end #but definitely ANGST #da2 #the aftermath of leandra's little trip to the sewers

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too-many-lavellans · 7 years ago

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Last batch of Tarot card sketches

I know I said I was only gonna do one more, but i’m too tempted by the idea of having cards for all of the Major Arcana to just leave it at that. I did end up running out of our own characters though, but since I did do cards for our Hawkes before I figured I should do the rest of the Hawke family as well.

#Dragon Age #Dragon Age: Inquisition #Dragon Age 2 #Inquisition Tarot #Junrian Lavellan #Keeper Deshanna #Saraan #Carver Hawke #Leandra Amell #Bethany Hawke #I'm excited to get start on all of these #also shoutout to juls helping fix up Hanin in his and Junrian's cards #Hanin Rutherford Lavellan #mabari

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sasseffects · 8 months ago

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LMAO I realize there's literally six days left of the poll but twenty of you have engaged my little goblin brain so here you go!! one of the Dragon Age 2 fanfiction scraps, just for y'all! under a break for length, context for the scrap provided

OKAY SO CONTEXT BEFORE WE GO FURTHER I remember wanting to play with the "modern girl in thedas" trope a bit- my character, Tess, decided to keep quiet about her knowledge of the games and pull strings as best as she could on her own. But she kept a diary iirc, and Hawke found it. So even though Leandra's death was thwarted, Hawke is pissed.

PS- Tiptoe is Hawke's mabari PPS- it's my personal headcanon that everyone in the DA2 crew was at least a little in love with everyone else. This was going to be a Fenris/OFC/Varric longfic, spanning DA2 into DAI. If the scraps go over well (I've got like, four-ish? five??) I may try turning them into something. lmk what you think!

Hawke’s eyes narrowed and he scowled, stalking towards me. “You knew. You fucking knew my mother was being courted by the blood mage that had been kidnapping and murdering women and you said nothing!”

I saw the swing coming. I could’ve dodged it, but instead I chose to lean into Hawke’s fist as it slammed into my left cheek, the momentum sending me spinning into a low table. My hands reached out to catch my fall, and I upended both the table as well as a vase in the process - one of Leandra’s favorites, I distantly recalled. It smashed into dozens of shards on the tiled floor, and I landed on the sharp pieces littering the ground; they dug painfully into the skin of my palms, the tiny pricks causing small red cuts to bloom.

Silence reigned for a moment, Hawke’s wide, startled eyes meeting mine. I could already feel the skin on my left cheek swelling, a ring on his finger leaving a deep cut just under my eye. Anger quickly overrode my surprise however, and I turned a glare his way.

“Feel better?” I demanded, carefully extricating myself from the upended table and shattered porcelain. “We’ve been over this before, Hawke. I can’t tell you everything I know because then things change in ways I can’t prepare for.

“Your mother is alive and well, sleeping in her room. She’s healthy, whole, and breathing. Her severed head hasn’t been attached to the pieces of the other missing women like the world’s worst jigsaw puzzle and animated by fucking blood magic because I saved her.” I was up in Hawke’s personal space now, bloodied finger poking his chest for emphasis. His face had lost all color, eyes alight with horror. Guilt was sitting in the back of my mind, trying to get me to calm down, but I was beyond caring at this point. Hawke wanted to know what I knew? Fine.

“You know what else, Hawke?” I asked, my voice rising in pitch. “You know what else I’ve kept quiet about because I’ve been so fucking careful about your feelings all these years? Your family, your entire family, is supposed to leave you. Your parents, Bethany, Carver, all of them. I wasn’t there for Bethany or Malcolm. But Carver? Why do you think I sided with your mother about him not going to the Deep Roads? He was going to contract the Taint and die. That was the only way out of there for him unless you’d also taken Anders with you, and then the fucking best case scenario was your baby brother being made a Grey Warden and getting sent to Weisshaupt. So I made sure he didn’t go, and he became a templar instead. I think him working with Cullen Rutherford is a pretty good fucking step above dying in some Maker-forsaken abandoned thaig or living a half-life fighting fucking darkspawn!”

Hawke looked like he was going to vomit, but I didn’t stop talking, though I did start walking towards the door. My cheek hurt, and either tears or swelling were making it difficult to see. Probably both. I think the cuts on my hands were also starting to leave dots of blood on the tile. I’d have to apologize to Orana later.

“But the worst thing, Hawke? The worst fucking thing I know? Is that Anders is supposed to leave you too. And I’m working on making sure that doesn’t happen because you are in love with him, and enough has already changed because of me that I think his leaving would break you. Because Kirkwall needs you, and will continue to need you. So I’m going to keep doing what I need to do in order to support you, and our friends, and this city, and the Free Marches, and Thedas, whether you fucking like it or not, you goddamn fucking asshole!”

I’d grabbed the bedroom’s door knob and stepped into the hallway by the end of my tirade, and I slammed the door behind me as hard as my stinging hands would allow before storming down the stairs towards Hawke’s front door. I was silently thankful that Orana, Bodhan, and Sandal were either out or willfully ignoring the exchange and Tiptoe was guarding Leandra; no one caught sight of my walk of shame out of the house. Hawke did not follow me.

Once I was outside, I had to decide where to go. I already knew I wasn’t going to tell anyone Hawke had hurt me; I wasn’t going to color anyone’s opinions of him with tensions so high in the city. The Qunari uprising was only months away and Meredith didn’t need the “Hawke beats people up when in a fit of pique” rationale in her back pocket.

Fenris’ place was closest, but he was likely in Lowtown with the others at the Hanged Man. But going to the Hanged Man meant seeing Varric, and putting those two together when I had an injury and an undisclosed assailant was unwise. They’d poke holes in my story faster than I could string it together. Fenris and Varric adored Hawke; They were both in love with him just as much as I was in love with them and I couldn’t taint his image for them. Of course Hawke wasn’t infallible; Hawke made mistakes. He made bad calls, accidentally set off traps, got his shit wrecked by surprise dragons at the Bone Pit. But Hawke didn’t hit his friends or shove them into furniture when he was upset. I wanted to, had to believe this was a one-off incident caused by the stress of nearly losing his mother. But that didn’t mean I was going to stick around to let it happen to me again.

I can pull strings from the shadows, I thought, my feet headed towards Lowtown despite my reservations. I think. I would just have to be somewhere else while I did it. I could still be in Kirkwall, just maybe not as close to the action?

All of Kirkwall is close to the action, Tess, I mentally reminded myself, choosing to enter the Hanged Man from the kitchen side, out of view of patrons, keen-eyed dwarves, and lyrium-branded elves. I knocked on the door and waited for someone to answer. I can write clues down, give vague dates, leave it in a book for them, and let Hawke figure this shit out on his own. Then get my ass to down Haven and wait for Solas to fuck up and go from there. Maybe if I intervene early enough I can even help Felassan-

“Tess?” Norah’s voice cut through my mental wanderings. I looked up to meet her horrified gaze. “Maker’s breath, Tess, what happened? Did someone attack you? Come inside.”

oh my god I found some very indulgent Dragon Age 2 fanfic scraps from like, five years ago while cleaning out my google drive

#sassy speaks #dragon age 2 #da2 #fanfiction #just a scrap though #might turn into something idk #it's been years since I wrote anything of substance

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pinayelf-archive · 3 years ago

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Canon OCs & Worldstate

A masterpost for mobile. Unless stated otherwise this is the DA worldstate I refer to in my posts/content!

Warden Amihan Amell (she/her), bi

Full Name: Amihan Alejandra Elena Amell

Age: 19 (DAO), 20 (Awakening), 29 (DAI)

Race: Human

Class: Mage

Spec: Blood Mage

Love Interest: Nathaniel Howe/Alistair Theirin (lol I multi-ship here, so it’s basically whomever I feel like at the moment)

Amihan was born to Revka and Bayani Amell in Kirkwall, Free Marches. Upon discovering her magic with her twin Violetta at age 6, Revka called the Templars to take them away. They were taken to separate Circles - Amihan at Kinloch.

Amihan barely remembered anything from her life before the Circle, only that she was given away by her mother for being a “monster”. Emotionally volatile and ill-adjusted, she snitches of Jowan out of jealousy as she had a crush on Lily. Luckily, Duncan is there is conscript her.

While Amihan manages to find family, love and friendship, as well as healing during the Blight, now she must deal with the pressure of being the Warden and Warden-Commander, something she never wanted and never will.

Champion Sinag Hawke (she/her), bi

Full Name: Sinag Gabriella Hawke

Age: 25 (DA2), 33 (DAI)

Race: Human

Class: Mage

Spec: Force Mage

Love Interest: Fenris

Born to Malcolm and Leandra Hawke in Lothering, Sinag’s childhood was average apart from the constant running from Templars. Malcolm trained her and Bethany early on how to use their magic. When Malcolm dies, Sinag takes on the role of caretaker in her family. This was an immense pressure she shoulders by herself and masks with humor, but in return pushing Carver away.

The years at Kirkwall steeled her and changed her forever, however she reconciles with Carver in the aftermath. Reports say that she died in the Fade with Inquisitor Lavellan, although there’s supposed sightings of her with a refugee apostate and Dalish elf.

Inquisitor Imryll Lavellan (she/her), bi

Full Name: Imryll Ilao Bahaghari Lavellan

Age: 25 (DAI), 29 (Trespasser) (My DAI timeline goes longer than a year)

Race: Elf

Class: Mage

Spec: Knight-Enchanter

Love Interest: Cullen Rutherford

Imryll was born to Adrila and Thrilan Lavellan in Seheron. The Clan soon moved to the Free Marches to get away from Tevinters. Imryll’s childhood was pleasant, despite being painfully shy and skittish. Things take a turn in later years when her older brother, Iefyr, is thought to have been taken and killed by Tevinter slavers. This incident strikes fear into an already very anxious Imryll.

Two years later and fresh from a break-up, Imryll volunteers to spy at the Conclave, hoping to prove to herself and others that she is brave. However, things get complicated. As the Inquistor, Imryll finds courage and grows as a leader while maintaining her soft heart. She reunites with her brother and finds love in unexpected places.

Reeling from Solas’ revelations in Trespasser, Imryll continues to preserve her Dalish culture and traditions with her clan, finding comfort that they created it despite everything. She lives with Cullen and their three children in South Reach in peace and quiet.

#amihan amell #sinag hawke #imryll lavellan #canonocs #long post

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cobycobsy2k · 2 years ago

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Alternative, Season 1 Penultimate Episode part 2 of 3: "Mr and Mrs Rutherford"

Goth mansion

Mortimer and Bella have decided to remodel the mansion, as they wanted to focus on giving the place a makeover. On the one hand Cassandra and Don are taking a work trip to Strangertown, and on the other hand, Alexander is investigating more about how to save his girlfriend.

Bella: I've thought about placing gargoyles as decoration! Although I don't know, it would sound a bit strange

Alexander: Mom I think it would be nice to put gargoyles, you have always loved Gargoyles!

Mortimer: Honey, John Smith just called, said that in the afternoon he is going to help us with the boxes and cough up my inventions, we can't let other people see what I have prepared!

Bella (Hugging her husband): Honey, that's why we're doing this discreet move, Alex and I will go first with John Smith and the others, while you'll go tonight, but how will you do it? ..

Mortimer (Kissing Bella): Bella, don't you remember I'm a vampire? I can turn into a bat and fly to the Tricou mansion!

Alexander: Won't that wear you out too much father?

Mortimer started to laugh as he approached his son.

Mortimer: Alex, I never get tired! Well, most of the time haha... But now that I'm taking the Elixir of Life, I feel younger every day! Why don't you go check your email? ?

The young man left the mansion to check if letters had arrived, when he opened the mailbox, there was a letter that caught his attention.

ALexander (Reading): "I'm waiting for you in front of the Veronaville market, I have information that may interest you... Sincerely: Leandra Rutherford"... Is this a trap? I don't think so...

x: THERE YOU ARE ALEXANDER GOTH!!, Did you think I wouldn't realize that you forgot about me!?

Turning to see, Alexander saw Parker Langerak, who was running towards him very angry.

Parker (Angry): Where have you been, huh? You don't know how many nights I haven't slept well without hearing from you!... The last thing I heard from you was when we were at the entrance of that Sorority!

Alexander (Embarrassed): Parker... I'm sorry, I'm in a big problem... It turns out that a psychopath wants to hurt my girlfriend and my family, I haven't had time to communicate with you or to rest... sorry

That calmed Parker down a bit and he decided to give Alexander his support.

Parker: The one who should apologize is me Alex, I was very worried... I thought you would never come back or that you just forgot about the others... but I want you to know that I will support you, if you need help, please let me know!

Alexander: Thank you parker... you are very special to me!

Later

In Veronaville, House of Titania Summerdream and Oberon Gossamer

Titania (kissing Contessa): I can't believe we had a great time! Thank you so much for coming to my party!

Contessa: You're welcome, Precious! You know I can be there for you when you need it most.

Titania and Contessa continued kissing on the sofa, while outside the house, Leandra and Alexander walked towards the door.

Alexander (A little confused): And who made that love potion? And how did you break that spell?

Leandra: The potion was made by this fairy witch, who helped me make a cure for that spell... I think the door is open... Let's go in!

Upon entering, Leandra and Alexander saw the two women without clothes, which surprised them.

Titania (Angry): Bitch, I was doing something very important!!

Contessa: Honey, don't be rude to them, then we can get on with this!

Leandra: Sorry for the inconvenience, Miss Titania, but I need your help...

Titania (a little annoyed): Do you need to do a cure for my love spell or a cure for lycanthropy? I mean, if you need help with your "little wolves"...

Leandra (in a sarcastic tone): Haha very funny, what happened was that my son followed in the same footsteps as his father... and kidnapped this boy's girlfriend...

Titania: Well that's fine, I'll help you, but please, knock on the door next time!... And I'd like to meet you Alexander Goth my name is Titania Summerdream

Alexander (confused): Hey, how do you know my name?

Titania (laughing a little and snapping her fingers): I'm a witch fairy, duh!, I know almost everything haha, Oberon, please come!!

At that moment Oberon appears out of nowhere, who had his pajamas on.

Oberon (opening his eyes and noticing that he is not in his room): Is it serious Titania?... Remember that tomorrow I will have a party where I will be the Dj...

Titania: I'm so sorry, but they need our help!

#sims 2 #sims 2 uberhood #cobycobs alternative uberhood #mortimer goth #bella goth #alexander goth #parker langerak #titania summerdream #contessa capp #leandra rutherford

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illusivesoul · 4 years ago

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OC Tag

Was tagged by @rosenkow @slothssassin and @shudder-shock to do this questionnaire. [Picrew Source] Thank you :)

I'll tag @flaine1996 @amys2885 @secretagentdragon @montliyets and @champagne-pain Only if you feel like doing this, of course.

Irene Hawke

Alias/Nicknames: Rene, Hawke, Grumpy, Champion (and then Viscount) of Kirkwall

Gender: Female

Age: 34

Zodiac:

Abilities/Talents: Skilled archer and close quarters fighter.

Alignment: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / neutral / evil / true

Religion: Andrastian

Sins: envy / greed / gluttony / lust / pride / sloth / wrath

Virtues: charity / chastity / diligence / humility / justice / kindness / patience

Languages: Trade tongue.

Family: Leandra and Malcom Hawke (parents, deceased) Carver Hawke (brother, deceased), Bethany Hawke (sister), Gamlen Amell (uncle), Charade (cousin), Merrill, Isabela (wives)

Friends: Fenris, Aveline Vallen, Sebastian Vael, Varric Tethras, Cullen Rutherford, Raleigh Samson, Bohdan, Elegant.

Sexuality: heterosexual / bisexual / pansexual / homosexual / demisexual / asexual / unsure / other

Relationship Status: single / partnered / married / widowed / open relationship / divorced / not ready for dating / it’s complicated

Libido: sex god / very high / high / average / low / very low / non-existent

Build: slender / average / athletic / muscular / curvy / other

Hair: white / blonde / brunette / red (ginger) / black / other

Eyes: brown / blue / gray / green / black / other

Skin: pale / fair / olive / light brown / brown / dark / other

Height: 1.8 mts

Scars: Several across her body from her time in the fereldan army, large one across her arm she got during the fight against the Qunari, electricity burn marks across her body from the fight against Corypheus.

dogs or cats / birds or bugs / snakes or spiders / coffee or tea / ice cream or cake / fruits or vegetables / sandwich or soup / magic or melee / sword or bow / summer or winter / spring or autumn / past or future

Five songs that remind me of them:

Don't Look Back in Anger - Oasis

99 Lutballons - Kaleida

Comme des garçons (Like the Boys) - Rina Sawayama

Everybody Wants To Rule The World - Tears for Fears

Art of War - Sabaton

#tag meme #irene hawke

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heartscfvalor · 3 years ago

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Introducing: Ariadne Amell

You see, you missed with your magic I’m fighting when you fallback I’m shooting arrows at the sky

Ariadne is the cousin to Leandra Hawke nee Amell, and she, like Leandra, came from a family of nobility in Fereldan with Kirkwall associations. At a very young age, it was discovered that she had magic, as her powers came out in short tight bursts, and so her parents reluctantly sent her to the Circle of Magi.

Despite being separated from her family, and unable to communicate beyond the occasional letters, Ariadne thrived within the Circle, making friends with other apprentices and studying hard in order to control her magic better. Her instructors noted her talents, and the Chantry priests recognized her piety, as she often went to the chapel to pray, and had a fierce, deep belief in the Maker. The Templars, as almost all Templars do, just viewed her as one more potential abomination in the making; the only Templar to treat Ariadne with any respect was Cullen Rutherford, who had been apprenticed into the Templar Order when he and Ariadne were around fourteen years old. When Cullen was finally made a Templar, he was stationed completely at the Circle Tower where Ariadne lived, and he developed feelings for her, though Ariadne did not return his love, since she knew that relations between a mage and a Templar were forbidden.

At nineteen years old, Ariadne was awoken from her bed in the middle of the night and taken to her Harrowing, where Cullen stood witness as the one who would strike the killing blow should she become an abomination; taking First Enchanter Irving’s advice to heart, she kept her wits about her whilst in the Fade, and quickly uncovered that the helpful spirit of Mouse was the demon of Pride, luring her in while trying to appeal to her nature by denouncing the Circle and the Templars, and more importantly, the Harrowing itself. Ariadne did not fall for his lies, and Pride released her, resulting in the “quickest, cleanest Harrowing seen in many years.”

Unfortunately Ariadne could not celebrate her success too soon. After meeting Irving and being introduced to Duncan of the Grey Wardens, her best friend Jowan quickly pulled her aside, twitchy and paranoid, to inform her that the Enchanters were planning to make him Tranquil, a magical process that cuts off a mage from the Fade, whilst taking away everything that made them human to begin with: their emotions, their free thoughts, even their autonomy. He also revealed that he had fallen in love with a Chantry initiate named Lily, who was determined to help him, and they pleaded with Ariadne to help.

As much as she wanted to, Ariadne was rather frightened by their intensity, as well as the rumors circulating that Jowan was a blood mage. Against her instincts, she went to Irving behind their backs and informed him of Jowan’s plan. Irving, in return, decided to trap the lovers by using Ariadne as his cover; she would agree to help them, on Irving’s orders, to get into the repository to break into the chamber holding the phylacteries, and destroy Jowan’s. When they would emerge, the Templars would see that Jowan was not the only perpetrator to such a crime, to ensure that Lily would also be punished.

The plan initially went off without a hitch, but Jowan quickly revealed his true nature as a blood mage in an attempt to save Lily from being taken to Aenar, the mage’s prison; he also denounced Ariadne when it was revealed that she had been helping Irving all along. When Lily refused to leave with him, Jowan escaped the Tower, and Lily was arrested after regarding Ariadne with coldness.

Duncan, impressed by Ariadne’s ability, recruited the new mage on the spot to become a Grey Warden.

As an Amell, Ariadne shares a striking resemblance to her younger cousin once removed, Avery Hawke; she shares his striking blond hair and intense blue eyes, but she has a strange birthmark on her neck in the shape of a crescent moon. Her specialized magic involves lightning and healing, though after leaving the Tower and becoming leader of the Grey Wardens to try and help stop the Fifth Blight, she has begun to dabble in blood magic herself, as she is hopeful that eventually she may come across something that may help destroy the darkspawn once and for all.

#introducing;; ariadne #regarding;; ariadne #musings;; ariadne

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pelisflis · 4 years ago

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Enlaces de la pelicula Tom y Jerry

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Sinopsis de la pelicula Tom y Jerry

Tom el gato y Jerry el ratón son expulsados de su casa y se trasladan a un elegante hotel de Nueva York, donde una empleada descuidada llamada Kayla perderá su trabajo si no puede desalojar a Jerry antes de una boda de clase alta en el hotel. ¿Su solución? Contratar a Tom para deshacerse del molesto ratón.

Informacion de la pelicula Tom y Jerry

Lanzamiento: 2021-02-11

Duracion: 101 Minutos

Genero: Comedia, Familia, Animación

Actores de la pelicula Tom y Jerry

Chloë Grace Moretz, Michael Peña, Jordan Bolger, Rob Delaney, Patsy Ferran, Pallavi Sharda, Colin Jost, Ken Jeong, Bobby Cannavale, Nick Rivera Caminero, Joey Wells, Na'im Lynn, William Horton, Harry Ratchford, Lil Rel Howery, Utkarsh Ambudkar, Tim Story, Somi De Souza, Ajay Chhabra, Patrick Poletti, Janis Ahern, Camilla Arfwedson, Joe Bone, Edward Judge, Brian Bovell, David Nolan, Jude Coward Nicoll, Christina Chong, Daniel Adegboyega, Craig Stein, Edward Dogliani, Josselyn Ospina Escobar, Ozuna, Paolo Bonolis, Haley Bishop, Norma Butikofer, Marc Wesley DeHaney, Kerri McLean, Sophie Holland, Joseph Begley, Scott Coker, Joe Buck, William Hanna, Mel Blanc, June Foray, Frank Welker, T-Pain, Brian Stepanek, Gianni Calchetti, Joakim Skarli, Wong Charlie, Leandra Ryan, Jeremy Ang Jones, Eleanor Fanyinka, Mike Capozzola, Camilla Rutherford, Densil Jones, Fuzuli Khabibillaev

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crqstalite · 4 years ago

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crossroad.

a majority of this was done during a writing sprint (edit, half of it was) but i couldn’t just let it fade away! so instead, because i’m still upset about anders [and i miss bethany + fem!hawke], here’s a post!da2 work for you and me.

word count: 6,083.

“are you afraid? of what lays after all of...this?” bethany’s voice. reyna tries not to jump, but inevitably, she does. her sister is no longer in her circle robes, instead dressed down with her hair tied back, “the gallows are gone, the circle is gone, meredith is dead, orsinio is dead...”

“please, bethany. for the love of andraste do not panic.” reyna tries not to snap at her, but she does it anyway, picking through what things she can fit in her pack. the red scarf she’s donned around her neck comes undone, and she pulls it away roughly before shoving another shirt away, “donnic and aveline are staying here, and you’re staying with them. you’ll be perfectly safe, there’s no reason to be afraid.”

“i-” bethany hesitates, then resigns to sitting on the bed, picking at her sleeve, “i asked if you were afraid, not what i was going to do after all of this.”

“you know what i intend to do,” reyna yanks the suitcase out from under the bed roughly, the latches clicking open as she flicks a bandaged hand over one.

“running away from kirkwall into the night isn’t a plan, rey.” bethany responds in a nagging tone tinged with genuine concern, folding her legs on the bed, “it’s an escape route.”

“and that’s exactly what i need, whether you like it or not,” reyna responds, folding a shirt away into the bag at her side. she’s avoiding bethany’s deep brown eyes, the same ones that she knows will be crying out to keep her from leaving, or to force her to leave sooner. but reyna has made her decision, she can’t come back from this, “the templars will sniff me out soon enough. and because they can’t use me as some example of a mage gone rogue with the chantry’s brand, they’ll kill me for this.”

bethany doesn’t answer after that, and they sit in silence. she feels bad about talking to her like that, but she has to. bethany is twenty five now, she isn’t a child like when they first arrived in kirkwall. she can handle herself, should anyone give her trouble and aveline isn’t around to protect her.

it wasn’t an option she liked, but she trusted aveline with her life -- no matter how much they squabbled before over morals and reyna’s own questionable actions towards the templars as of recently. bethany would be safer here under the protection of the guard captain than with her on the road.

“you’ve been here for two days, and you said you’d leave earlier this week.” bethany’s voice is quiet when she speaks up again, the jangle of keys in her hand when she gives them to her, “what are you waiting for?”

reyna bitterly chuckles, “are you trying to get rid of me too, dear sister?” she asks, remembering how aveline had advised the same thing to her. kirkwall was still reeling after she’d hidden out with the vallens for a bit to let it blow over long enough to trek home without suspicion. the others...they’d be safe. they couldn’t go after fenris, they wouldn’t know of his involvement and merrill and isabela would be out of town within the month on isabela’s ship. and varric?

varric always had a way out. she didn’t know how this time, everyone knew he was involved with her, but he assured her he’d find a way.

she still sat up, waiting for the cellar door to open those two nights she spent in her own home since then. and yet...it doesn’t. it remains closed, and locked.

did he wear it that night?

“no! no of course not, reyna if i could go with you--” bethany cuts herself off, a frown on her face when reyna rises from her knees, pushing the half empty case back under the bed, “you know that i would. i just...don’t want you caught. everything is so...crazy right now. why are you staying so long?”

“it doesn’t matter. i’m leaving tonight, less templars out and the guards will be able to get me out of the city before knight-captain rutherford even knows i was back in hightown.” reyna shrugs, retying the scarf around her neck. the sun was due to go down in just a bit, the sky still playing with colors of a deep pink and the black encroaching upon it. the guards would switch into their night shift soon.

“that’s...not it.” bethany follows after her as reyna throws the pack on over her shoulder, “you know that’s not what it is.”

“why are you so desperate to know?” reyna quips back, biting her lip to keep from yelling. she knows why, she knows exactly why she’s still here and not heading for the hanged man to sail with isabela. and yet..it’s still stupid to admit out loud. it’s beyond foolish, and the same thing that got her mother in trouble before she was born, “surely you don’t intend to gossip with isabela.”

“reyna...” bethany gives her a look that’s reminiscent of leandra’s, and she cringes back from it. she knows bethany is only concerned from her safety, concerned about her, but she’s more concerned about her’s. and that hurts. reyna was the reason they even had to be careful, the reason bethany had to change her name and cut her hair. and yet, here she was, still caring about her foolish older sister after it all.

it infuriated and wounded her at the exact same time. bethany’s hand brushes her shoulder as she pauses at the door frame, and reyna tenses at the touch against her bicep. why why why had she done all of this? she could’ve just let meredith go on her tirade, turned a blind eye. they had such a nice cushy house here in hightown, and now the amell estate would surely be passed over to some other templar allied noble once everything was in order. they would’ve won and lost their mother’s childhood home within a decade.

but no. she’d let her own interests blind her to the real goal. she couldn’t stay incognito long enough to let herself even enjoy it.

“reyna, please. just tell me, that way i can help. that way i can find whatever it is you’re looking for.” another beat of silence, “i know you don’t like talking about what bothers you, or makes you angry for my sake and everyone elses’ sake but sometimes people genuinely want to help you. i want to help you.”

“like how meredith helped the mages?” she asks coldly, and bethany’s eyes are startled and hurt but the words keep pouring out of her mouth, “like how orsinio helped the mages? like how i -- how i helped anders? you can’t help me, bethany.”

her sister freezes, a grimace on her young face as reyna tries not to look over her shoulder before turning on her, “like how i put everything aside to stand behind him when he needed me? and i cost kirkwall their circle, their knight enchanter and their knight-commander? like how i helped kirkwall?”

“you did help!” bethany argues, reaching out to take her hand. reyna snaps it back, “you helped so many people while you were here!”

“at what cost! at what cost did i help everyone back in ‘34, and then lose mother to a blood mage? at what cost did i help by keeping you out of the deep roads, and then losing you to the gallows? at what cost did i help anders, and then lose the chantry because i was so goddamn blind?!”

“you weren’t blind! you wanted to help us, and you did. you can’t apologize for that reyna-”

“i’m not apologizing! i’ll never sodding apologize for what i believe in, but riddle me this bethany -- do you think the chantry would be a smoking crater if i had said no? if i’d denied the idea that i could split anders and justice? do you think we’d have to leave if i didn’t want to help the mages so goddamn bad that i costed us our place in kirkwall?”

“that’s not your fault. you stood up for what you believed in, you stood up for me!” bethany cries, “that’s not your fault. none of it is. it’s-it’s...”

“it’s anders’. that’s what everyone says, right?” reyna runs a hand through her hair, feeling her hands begin to shake the way they do when she doesn’t feel okay, when she doesn’t feel right. her mother had always been able to calm her down but now she can barely speak.

“no. no it isn’t.” bethany avoids her gaze, “you said you believed in him. believed in what he said. believed in what was right.”

reyna throws out her hands around them, “is this what is right, bethany? templars hunting me down, everyone forced to leave because of me and him? was it right that i let what made me happy blind me to what was the truth?”

“i-”

“no! it wasn’t! i can’t defend my actions, i can’t defend his. i can’t defend how i hunted templars down and then pretended to figuratively wash my hands of the blood that was spilled when the chantry came down!” she’s breathing hard, her chest tight, “i can’t defend anyone’s actions -- there was no compromise, but was any of it worth it just so i could have one more day with him!?”

she doesn’t know where her words have gone. but they’re not there anymore. none to pull on. nothing else to say lest she reveal why she’s still here, nothing left to say that she hasn’t already said twenty times over, nor anything she can say that won’t sound like she’s complaining about the mess she got herself into.

bethany’s eyes glimmer with sad understanding, once she is no longer taken aback by her outburst, “you’re waiting for him. you still think he’ll come back.”

reyna is silent. she knows if she denies it, bethany will pick her apart until she falls apart.

her sister shouldn’t have to listen to her like this. shouldn’t have to pay for her mistakes.

“you believed in him at some point, you cared about him and you were happy, i know you were. and you didn’t want to stay in kirkwall even before all of this. i think the words you used were even ‘these four walls can’t hold me anymore’ the last time you visited.” bethany’s demeanor is soft compared to her own, gently pulling her gloves on, “you...i’ll stay here with you if i have to. reyna if you still love-”

“no! i don’t!” a fire burns inside her as her hands tighten into fists at her side, anger climbing up her throat to choke the words out of her, “i don’t! do you really think that-”

“would you still be here if you didn’t?”

that gives reyna pause long enough to keep from punching the wall next to her. there are holes in her room from earlier, days before bethany had managed to make it out of the shithole of the gallows through varric’s assistance. scars are still just barely healing on her knuckles, and they’re splitting open again from just how hard she’s folded her hands into balls at her side.

“no. you wouldn’t, because you care. you would’ve skipped town already if you didn’t.”

“he used me, bethany. he knew what he was doing and he still did it! would someone who loved someone else really do something like that, without their conscience betraying them?” reyna walks further away from her sister, making to descend down the stairs, “would he still give me all that goddamn praise for what i was doing for the mages in the circle if he really loved me?”

“reyna, you’re not even thinking anymore. of course he loved you-”

“how would you know!” at the bottom of the stairs, reyna whirls on her sister, a fearful look in her matching pair of dark eyes before she even registers it, “how would you know bethany? nobody knew, absolutely no one knew not even me! i’m supposed to be the bloody champion of kirkwall and instead i kept an apostate in my home for upwards of three years, and assisted with destroying the chantry at the same time! all because i thought he cared about me, and i just ignored all the warning signs! i should’ve known, i should’ve said something -- said anything and yet i didn’t because i couldn’t! i was weak and i’m paying the price for it now!”

her eyes sting with unshed tears, frustration taking precedent and building up in her tightening throat, “if he really cared about me, he would’ve told me! that’s what we did, that’s what we always did! i was willing to risk my neck for karl, i was willing to help get a group of apostates out for him, ‘oh hawke is always ready to help’, sodding irresponsibly stupid old me, right?”

“you’re not stupid, you’re not stupid reyna.” bethany bypasses the near shove she gives her sister and instead wraps her arms around her waist, holding tight, “you loved him. you did. i know what losing carver and losing mother did to you. and i know i couldn’t be here for you. i wish i could’ve been. to help you through all of it but i couldn’t. i trusted anders to stay with you, i trusted him to keep you grounded. you weren’t weak. you were stronger than any of us.”

reyna is shaking, her hands stuck at her sides as bethany buries her head in her shoulder. she’s hurt, she’s very hurt by all of this, feeling like she’s been stabbed twenty times over with her own blades when anders had admitted to the crime with a resigned tone of voice, sitting hunched over away from her. expecting death, surprised she did not grant it even at the cost of fenris’ trust. she was aware nothing would change if they didn’t do anything drastic, she’s not wounded by that. she’s destroyed on the inside because he didn’t tell her.

she trusted him with every part of her. told him things that no one would ever hear come from her lips. things she hadn’t even told herself before. they had each other’s backs for years, and that was where the line of trust snapped.

where did she go wrong?

was this her fault? because she’d come off as too much? would he have told her if she pressed him for why his demeanor had changed instead of dealing with everyone else’s problems?

she thought she’d meant everything to him. neither of them had anyone left but each other. he’d been there when her mother died, had consoled her to the best of his ability when bethany had been taken.

and yet?

and yet that still wasn’t enough. it wasn’t enough to trust her. it wasn’t enough to let her say ‘i trust you, and i’m with you’.

love is a strong word for someone who immediately lost all claim on it regarding her.

but?

she would lie if she said there was nothing left for him to possibly reclaim someday. a long time from now, maybe a lifetime.

but not never.

“he did one shitty job of it.” she chuckles darkly, resigning to put her arms around her sister. knowing that this will be one of the few times she even gets the chance in the next few days, weeks, months and maybe even years, carefully as she chokes out her name, “bethany.”

“yes, sister?”

“i don’t...i don’t think he’s coming home.” that breaks a part of her inside, blinking a few times up at the dark ceiling to keep herself from falling apart completely -- why was her sister even still here? she had bigger things to worry about than her washed up older sister, the ex-champion of kirkwall, “as much as i might wish it, i don’t think he will be.”

“he told you he loved him in the gallows, right before orsinio went mad, you know. he was terrified, he was focused exclusively on keeping you alive when we fought meredith. i don’t think i ever caught him with his eyes off of you.” bethany says, gently untangling herself, “maybe it’s not worth atonement in your eyes. i’m not sure. but...” her eyes dart to where the hall ends and the cellar begins a turn later, “maybe he will come back to you.”

does he deserve her forgiveness for that? at all? just because he still loved her before then? because he’d looked her in the eyes, the corners of them crinkling with a look of adoration, of sadness, and had promised her a world where it wouldn’t matter if they were together? how undeniably warm his hands had felt in her’s when their fingers curled together shortly before the ensuing fight against the templars?

she doesn’t know.

she’s so angry that she genuinely wants to hit something. wants to yell at someone, anything. sit someone down and explain why there is a wildfire burning her soul from the inside out, why she so desperately just wants this all to end. wake up from the nightmare that has plagued her for days. will most likely haunt her for the rest of her life.

but she’s also hurt. so makerdamned hurt. where did the trust even go, did it run off or was it never there to begin with? was it worth destroying herself again, on the run with surely thedas’ most wanted mage only because she thought he cared for her?

is that what she wants? or was that decision already made for her?

was it foolish? was it foolish to wait and wait and wait even though she knows the chances of him coming back are slim?

she’d understood -- had said that she knew they’d never be like any normal couple. that she’d have to run, because apostates would never be free. and yet, she’d taken the plunge. had accepted her fate.

all reyna can say is, “i don’t know.”

bethany nods, playing with the deep black curls their mother had given her, before stepping past her, “it’s dark out now. i can’t stay here any longer, sister. donnic will get worried and come out looking for me.”

“i-i know.” reyna responds, squeezing her eyes shut and shaking out the limp curls in her hair from the braid she’d worn earlier, bethany padding closer to the door and pulling her heavy cloak off of the hook, “bethany--be careful.”

“i will. i promise.” bethany says, “as long as you do as well. they will not be friendly to you on the road. anders may not have a phylactery but-”

“they know what he looks like. i know that. that’s to say he even comes by later, though,” reyna takes a breath, trying not to antagonize her sister, “but i will.”

bethany waves, a sad smile on her face before the large door closes, the sound reverberating through the foyer. her calming presence is gone, and reyna feels the cold beginning to seep in her. now that bethany has left, she doesn’t have to pretend she’s okay to keep her sister from worrying more than she already has done. she sadly chuckles, bethany had gotten that from their mother -- a worried hen for all her chicks.

that was supposed to be reyna, watching over her sister. keeping her safe from the templars, keeping her alive. bethany wasn’t supposed to have to come to the estate just to check on her. but she’d been so busy trying to change something that had weathered the pattern of time that she’d neglected everything else. her friends, her family.

herself.

the fire warms her bones to the best of it’s meager ability, her hands regaining feeling. it was a cold night out, she’d have to wear one of her thicker cloaks when she finally left.

this wasn’t how it was supposed to end. and yet here she was, spending the last night in her family home. she says an apology to her mother under her breath, an apology to gamlen even, an apology to her grandparents, an apology to bethany, to carver, to her father.

she’d failed every single one of them.

reyna doesn’t break down. she knows if she does, she won’t ever leave. she’ll just stay here and be sad and cry about the things she can’t control. and she doesn’t have time for that.

she’s supposed to be the strong one. she can’t be that if she’s bawling like a baby.

inevitably, she spends another two hours in the estate, bordering three and eyes barely open while she stokes the fire every few go arounds. she’s ready to leave, bag over her shoulders and conscience weighing down on her like a brick. but she wanders the house instead, listlessly and without a true purpose.

admiring everything they’d earned after so many years. brushing a hand against her mother’s portrait when she stops in the main hall just outside the room that has been locked since her death. the same brown eyes they all shared staring back at her, a small smile that reyna wants to see again. there’s a smaller one of carver she’d had commissioned years ago with her first allowance from the expedition, and it sits next to her’s. she was supposed to have bethany, father and herself done at some point. a family of portraits once they’d properly settled into the estate.

and then she’d gotten busy, and never finished the task.

she hates to say that she used to wonder if she’d get anders done as well, if they ever solidified what they used to have. she pulls her eyes away from the younger leandra, descending the steps again and making sure all the doors are locked. donnic and aveline are the only two with keys to the estate besides anders and bethany. she would not let the templars have her home if she still had any say about it.

she’s near the front door, cloak donned dutifully around her shoulders and gloves donned, daggers hidden in sheathes on her thighs when she hears the distant sound of a door open and close. her whole body freezes, fearful that it’s an intruder. a templar maybe, they’d found the secret entrance to the cellar under the house. it wouldn’t be the first time, and she should’ve known it wouldn’t be the last. of course it would be the day that she intends to leave.

seizing, she pulls her daggers out, gripping the handles with shaky hands before pushing herself up against the wall leading down the hall. she’d left the door open, what a foolish mistake.

boots. the sound of boots against the carpet. quiet, soft. they aren’t trying to announce their presence, but she doesn’t want to take the risk to look over her shoulder into the inky darkness. she recognizes everyone’s footfalls. she had to, that was part of her training while she lived in lothering and it had saved her life more than a few times since she’d moved to kirkwall.

and terrifyingly-

-she recognizes these. the ones that accompany a long night in the clinic, ones that accompany a proper hunt in the city for mages to help escape.

a quiet voice.

a tired voice.

a resigned voice, calling out for her in a way that shatters her before he steps into the light of the fire, “hawke?”

after a moment, she falls apart. tears bubbling up in her eyes as she turns the corner from where she’d pressed herself up against the wall in preparation.

a staff that isn’t quite regulation, and the black robes she was sure were still stained with blood from a week prior.

the amber eyes she couldn’t say no to, hands that had been tangled with her’s only weeks ago.

“anders.”

he doesn’t look well. not at all. exhausted, eye bags looking darker than they had since he’d moved in with her. hair tied back hurriedly, his own robes barely tied properly.

but, there’s a cloak around his shoulders, straps from a pack as well. dark black to surely hide himself from the templars that are swarming darktown like flies on fruit. she doesn’t ignore that it’s the same one she’d given him two years ago in the dead of winter, worn, but she still recognizes the hawke crest over his heart. clear as day, and worn proudly.

or it had been, when it had been given when he’d first moved in and leandra had suggested the gift, as they and bethany both owned one. her mother had even bothered her to get his name stitched in beneath the crest, though she didn’t.

she’s glad, she’s not sure if she could take that. not now.

“you’re here,” she responds, biting her tongue not to launch into something she’ll regret, “then you still have the key.”

“you gave me it. i would not simply lose something so important,” that grits against her nerves in a way she can’t explain, though he hesitates to step forward towards her, “you are free to have it back, as i suppose you’re leaving the city according to varric.”

“is this not also your home?” she asks bitterly, forgoing the fact she’d said not to tell anders when she was leaving, “or did you forget somehow in the last few months?”

reyna feels childish when she notes he doesn’t even seem angered by the accusation, just...sad. not the sort of sad where he’s begging for forgiveness at her feet and trying to guilt trip him, but the kind of sad one can only have when they’ve reached rock bottom.

“what do you want me to say, re-hawke?” and yet again, there is no anger behind the words. no deep seated frustration. reyna doesn’t know how to respond to someone who isn’t yelling at her for some reason or the other. she can deal with anger, she can yell at anger rightfully. apologetic...she doesn’t know what to do with apologetic, “if you wish for me to go, then i will. i won’t force myself where i am not wanted.”

she can’t bite them back fast enough, “you betrayed my trust, anders. you took away my right to choose when you lied to me for why you needed all of those ingredients.”

“i know.” is all he offers.

“i know?” she parrots back to him, “if you knew, if you bloody well knew then why even bother? why even accept that sodding key, why stay here? you can’t hide behind the excuse that you knew you would hurt me in the end. there must have been a part of you that knew this wouldn’t end well for you, for us.

“was there ever an us, anders?”

“yes!” something in him snaps before he pulls himself back together, “there always was, reyna. there always was, and that was never in question.”

the question is on the tip of her tongue, but she knows she will never get a proper answer. not one she doesn’t already know, “you thought i wouldn’t support you in this, so you didn’t even take the chance.”

“admit it, you wouldn’t have. no one we know would’ve. and i do not blame you.” anders nearly chastises her, “i could not take that chance to drag you into this. it would be my burden to bear.”

“i am not a child, anders.”

“i know.”

“then you would’ve known that i would at least hear you out. that i would’ve listened. that you didn’t have to play this game of secrecy with me,” she will not beg for an answer if that isn’t what he intends to give her. she is not pathetic.

“you would’ve stopped me. this was something i had to do.”

“would i have? i supported you everywhere else. nearly got myself killed for you. was that not enough to solidify that i was yours, that i would always be with you no matter what?”

when she can not find anymore words, pointedly looking at him instead, he slips the twine that the key hung on from around his neck. worn, but obviously well taken care of. it’s not even scratched upon further inspection. he holds it out her, in a similar fashion that she had given it to him earlier this year. twinkling in the dying light of the fire, spinning gently in a circle, “tell me to go, reyna.”

she hates the way he says it. as if he has already accepted that she will kick him out properly this time. how her name doesn’t sound like sugar on one’s tongue, it instead sounds like the salty tears that had poured down her cheeks for days after the chantry incident. thinly veiled frustration, barely veiled sadness.

she could tell him to go now. there’s nothing keeping her from doing so. it would be significantly easier if she did, in fact. travelling lighter, and she didn’t have to watch for templars nearly as often because an apostate wouldn’t be with her. she could support herself. she was not helpless.

it’d be that easy. just a few words, and she’d be free to leave this cursed city.

then go, anders. i don’t want you here anymore. you’ve destroyed what we had in favor of forwarding your own political agenda. you used me! you used my trust to do all of this, and now you have the audacity to come back and give me my own key back like you actually care what i think of you? you used my love for you. you twisted and tore us apart to something unfathomable. you have no right to be here. this is not your home any longer.

a fire roaring. intoxicated with adrenaline, wandering hands. happy looks, the roll of one’s eyes at another’s antics. the feeling of being a pair, the emotions she could never replicate with another.

he used me!

the warmest look in amber eyes as their lips fit together, tasting of lyrium and metallic blood.

her hand is shaking just out of the corner of her eye, she can grasp it now. it’s warm as she takes it from his hand. carefully. slowly. the twine has nearly frayed in so many places, yet knotted together again and again with dexterous hands she could only credit to him.

she knows what she has to do. the fire inside blazes and she opens her mouth to speak, setting her face. this isn’t something she should just back down from.

yet...

the words don’t come.

they fail her.

instead of anything else, even managing a curse or two, she moves her other hand to take his, pressing the key firmly back into his palm, curling his fingers back over it. inhaling, she wonders if she’s making the right decision. is this worth it? should she even begin to take the chance? the chance she could never have another life, never rebuild what she once had?

is it worth it to try and rebuild the shattered pieces in front of her, the scars reopening and bleeding from when it had first broken?

she remembers a vase she and her siblings had broken as children -- her mother’s in fact. blue, glittering in the dying sunlight of the evening when it had broken.

chipped. but not beyond recognition. the bigger pieces were still intact. it was glued back together with the help of their father before their mother was any the wiser.

it will hurt to put the glass back together if she chooses to pick them back up.

exhaling, she finally looks up at him. thinly veiled shock, surprise greets her instead in his expression, “don’t.” is all she can say, lest she actually let her emotions get the better of her.

reyna knows the wish that she could be alone on the road was real, was tangible. but she can’t. not after losing her father, losing carver, losing bethany, losing her mother, slowly losing the people around her to her own mind. not now. not when she knows that she still cares about him. not when there is one person left in the world like hum.

“reyna, i don’t deserve this. you know that much better than i do.” he tries to give it back to her, but she only clutches his hand tighter.

“keep it.” she nearly orders before softening her tone, “please.”

he considers his words, “if..you wish.”

reyna is quiet again. then she is really doing this, a wave of sadness passing over her. she is leaving, with the one person that caused the need to. but the person that she still has fractured trust from, the person that was her first, and if she let’s this progress, her last.

“i will not try to explain it again. you know my reasoning, reyna. and i am truly sorry for the pain i have caused you,” he admits quietly, “i can say a million things, but you would still find faults. and i can never truly apologize for what happened.”

“you can’t,” she agrees, wrapping her cloak around her lithe figure tighter, “you’re right on that front.”

he’s not phased by her response, “i am not asking to be taken back. i know i have foolishly thrown away what we had.”

“again, you are correct,” she rubs the fabric in between her gloved fingers. she hesitates again, knowing what she says now will make or break whatever this is, “but. why are you here then? if you know?”

“i...was not going to ask to travel with you, but to say goodbye. i was unsure if you wanted to see me, or if you were even still here to be entirely honest, but i wished to try,” he pauses, “i will always care for you, reyna. even if it is no longer reciprocated.”

and that is it. it sounds terribly final, as if he is ready to leave right that very moment. he has not made another advance towards her, but his eyes crinkle into a sad smile. one that is all too reminiscent of the same received that fateful day she’d first met him.

a rush of anxiety takes her heart hostage before she speaks again, turning over her shoulder to walk towards the door. she can’t face him when she’s on the brink of a breakdown, “you always did assume so much, anders.” reyna muses.

she doesn’t watch his reaction, but she can hear him walking ever closer, the sound of his staff dragging along the ground doing nothing to hide his presence from her, “will i see you again?” he asks hurriedly.

another blink. another halt of her thought process.

she can’t do this. she was supposed to be strong. but she isn’t. he’s too much to her, he’s been too much to her. how much he gave her, material and emotionally. she’s not ready to rip that away.

it wouldn’t be the same.

everything is still much too raw. too painful to touch. but no one said she had to touch an open would right then, in that very moment. another time, when it was easier to treat. allowed time to heal.

“it would be a crime if you did not,” she puts a hand on the knob, cold through her gloves. it’s nearly entirely dark, now that the fire is gone and the moonlight is shining through the window to illuminate the room, glinting off the steel of hids staff, “tell me, anders.”

“anything.” he answers, careful, calculating. gauging her reaction.

“can--” she turns over her shoulder, tears building in her eyes as she awaits his response, “can you still give me a world like the one you described in the gallows?”

he’s rendered speechless for once. then, recognition flashes through his eyes, as if he is remembering exactly what she is talking about. then, a nod, “i can surely try, if you allow me the pleasure.”

reyna pulls her hood up over head. considering, overthinking at this point, before taking his hand with her free one. this would not be perfect, far from it. she still has anger boiling just underneath the surface. they will both be hunted, unless they should leave the free marches. she is signing away any chance at a normal life.

she squeezes his fingers in her’s tentatively, “then let us find it, yes?”

#reyna hawke #da2 #handers #f!handers #anders #reyna/anders #oc #original character #da2 oc #post!da2

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