#otf: sail on silver girl

[vhenadahls]

i find the map and draw a straight line

Prompted by @momsthetic​ - zinnia (I mourn your absence)

They all pile onto the Wicked Grace after they escape the Gallows, an unusual kind of cadence with Anders and Fenris lying dead and Carver running up the gangway on Esther's heels. The crew is all already awake, gawking at the chaos as the Gallows burn, and there's a long moment where they stare at the newcomers, ragged and bloody from their fight out of the city. A single shout from Isabela sets the sailors all back to rights, and the bustle of a ship readying to sail leaves the rest of them at loose ends on the deck.

Esther wants to be the first to recover, the smell of the sea usually almost as sweet to her as it is to Isabela, but Merrill's got a death grip on her hand that she doesn't seem too keen on loosening, and Esther can’t bring herself to do anything but stare. None of them speak, looking out over the docks as Isabela’s captain’s voice and the responses of her crew echo behind them. Heart sinking, Esther watches the roof of one of the warehouses collapse, a fresh plume of smoke billowing out from where it stood.

Varric’s murmured “shit” isn't meant to be heard by the others, but he's not as quiet as he thinks he is and it defuses the tension, if only a little. Merrill lets up on Esther's hand, and Carver loosens his armor and leans forward onto the railing.

“Shit,” Esther echoes, but it's hollow, and the tension grows taut again when she doesn’t follow it up with a joke. Merrill leans against her, silent, and Carver nods slowly, in sympathy - they put the whole city on her shoulders, and she failed.

They're still quiet as the crew finishes their final checks, and Esther feels her heart lift the smallest bit at the thought of being out on the water, escaping the city with her friends to finally just be Esther again, not the Champion of Kirkwall. But there's a small flurry near the gangway as Isabela sends someone to pull it onboard, and Aveline waves him away while gesturing their ragtag group towards her.

“I'm not leaving,” she says bluntly, once they've within earshot. She gazes out over the city, wincing as the flames spread to another building. “There's no one left, now with Meredith gone - not that Meredith was worth it in the first place. I can't leave while the city is in this state.”

Isabela eyes her critically, face calculating. “All right.” She claps Aveline on the shoulder, respect and insolence all in one. “I'll see you again, big girl.”

Aveline rolls her eyes, but there's a softness in her face, and she nods to Isabela before turning to Esther. “Keep out of trouble, Hawke. Maker knows you'll find it.”

Esther tries to give a cheeky grin, but it doesn't quite work, and instead she inclines her head. “You wouldn't be happy unless you had to come pull me out of something, you know it.” Tears prick at her eyes, but she blinks them away. She will not cry here, not with everyone watching. Grimacing, she fakes a cough, to try and sell that it’s the smoke.

Aveline nods once more, turning without another word and hurrying back down the gangway. She draws her sword and shield as she hits the ground, and the crew pulls the gangway onto the ship, and Aveline turns a corner and is gone into the maze.

They weigh anchor, picking their way out of the harbor and giving the Gallows a wide berth, and Esther doesn't move from her spot on the railing. She stands still, Merrill on one side and Varric on the other, with Carver nearby and Sebastian hovering and Isabela calling orders behind her, until burning Kirkwall fades over the horizon. She doesn’t give in to the tears that threaten to fall, but she doesn’t say anything else even when the city disappears, and her expression when she finally turns away is brittle.

-------

They leave Carver at Ostwick, off to rejoin his Warden unit. Everyone that’s left of their ragtag band of misfits troops off the ship together, Isabela shouting about half a day’s shore leave to the crew and the rest attempting to make merry like this is something they do all the time. A bar is found, one Varric complains could never live up to the legacy of the Hanged Man, and they take up their customary places around an unfamiliar table. A smaller table too, chosen to avoid thoughts of the gaps in their circle, and the conversation does not flow as easily despite the much better ale.

Esther does not beg or plead with Carver to stay, to shirk his vows and his duty and the mantle she gave him to save his life. Or, at least, she wouldn’t look to be begging in the eyes of someone who did not know her - but those standing around her as she says goodbye to her brother know her better than she ever thought possible.

“But who will protect me from the big scary darkspawn?” she jokes, trying to force her characteristic lilting humor back into place. To his credit he doesn’t call her on the fragility of her voice, responding only with a long-lost smirk and a deep, put-upon sigh. But when he grasps her hand and she pulls him in for a bone-crunching hug, his eyes are shiny and wet.

All of them watch as he mounts the relay horse that will take him to the Warden outpost a few hours outside the city. He rides straight out, not turning even for one last wave, his greatsword almost as big as Merrill familiar on his back, and Esther's heart squeezes in her chest as he rounds a bend out of sight.

She doesn't cry, blaming the city’s dust when she blinks too much. They make their way to the ship, no longer trying to mask how dejected they are, and Esther tries not to look at any of them or any of the crew who could try to be helpful. She takes her place back at the railing as the ship glides out to sea, Varric and Sebastian on one side and Merrill on the other, Isabela barking orders in the background, and every flutter of a sail out of the corner of her eye has her turning to look for her missing brother.

-------

Sebastian leaves when they reach Hercinia. They end up in a bar again, but there’s barely a hint of conversation this time, as if the removal of links from their chain has made the rest of the links even weaker. The walk to the Chantry afterwards is quiet.

“There should be a merchant caravan going to Starkhaven soon,” Varric pipes up finally, and Sebastian nods, and they lapse back into silence. They follow him up the steps into the the ornate building, waiting impatiently while he secures a place to stay for the next few nights, and breathing a little easier once they're in the open again.

Varric leads the way to one of the largest shops in the city and waves familiarly to the dwarven shopkeeper, earning himself a scowl in return. He wheedles and nudges, laughing at the shopkeeper’s grumpy demeanor and waving the others off to let him work.

Despite the inauspicious beginnings, it's not long before he's found a place for Sebastian in the caravan that will take him home. They troop back outside into the street to say goodbye, and most of the group makes their way back to the ship as Esther tags along with Sebastian back to the Chantry.

She doesn't cry this time, either. “What is with the incense here?” she complains, swiping at her eyes in an anger she doesn’t really feel, unable to find the words to tell Sebastian she’ll miss him.

Sebastian gives her a hug and a smile, clasping her hand as she steps back. “We will meet again, Hawke,” he says, and she nods, not trusting herself to speak again. He looks away as the bells ring through the building, marking the hour, and she hurries back out without turning around, following the noise of the docks back to the ship.

As always, she stands on the deck to watch the city fade behind them, Varric and Merrill flanking her, and this time Isabela's shouted orders feel like salt on an open wound.

-------

She thinks they're safe when they dock in Wycome, with nothing to draw any of the last few of her friends away from the ship, but there's a letter waiting for Varric when they arrive at his second-favorite bar. He tears it open, confusion filling his face, and Esther's heart sinks as he reaches the end and looks up at her apologetically.

“I have to go,” he says, and her heart threatens to shatter as she stands rigid beside him. He doesn't elaborate, knowing the details won't matter when the effect is the same. Merrill and Isabela hover behind them, quiet, as Esther balls her hands into fists and wills herself not to fall apart.

They stay in Wycome for four days, far longer than Isabela had intended. Esther spends most of the time with Varric, trying to joke and failing and spending more of her time in silence than she ever has before. He lets her be, uncharacteristically unsure of what to say, and they muddle through the last few days as best they can.

The last night, as Merrill and Isabela and Esther prepare to take ship again and Varric prepares to join another caravan heading back west, they somehow find a tavern none of them have ever been to. Esther and Varric go drink for drink, Isabela fleeces far too many people at Wicked Grace, and Merrill watches it all with big, curious eyes.

Everything seems fine for a while, each of them more relaxed than they've been in recent memory, limbs and tongues loose from ale. Esther joins the Wicked Grace game, pretending she's worse at it than she really is and laughing, less brittle than in weeks. “Hey Fenris -” she calls, and realizes what she's said, and she drops her cards so quickly it's like they're on fire.

There's no excuse she can pass her tears off on this time, and she flees the tavern as quickly as she can. She's never been to Wycome before, but the seedier part of one town is much like the seedier part of another, and she tucks herself into an alleyway reminiscent of the one behind her uncle’s house and finally lets herself sob.

Fenris isn't just scattered off to some random part of the Free Marches, he's dead, and so is Anders, and she never saw eye-to-eye with either of them but they were part of her group of misfits and now there's empty spaces in the world. She cries harder, back pressed against the damp stone walls of a Wycome alley that smells of Antivan wine, and pleads with a Maker she’d long since decided didn’t care, her voice little more than a whisper.

Merrill finds her first, despite her terrible head for directions, and calls out behind her for the others as she drops to her knees and wraps her arms around Esther's shaking shoulders. She doesn't speak, just murmuring softly in an attempt at comfort. Varric and Isabela make their way into the alley as well, their faces grim when Esther doesn't look up.

They stay that way for a while, the Chantry bells chiming the late hour going unheeded as Esther finally lets herself cry. Eventually her tears slow and her sobs quiet, and as Merrill helps her to her feet Varric slips his hand in hers, the weight of years in his squeeze.

“This isn't the end, Shorebird,” he says, his voice wavering as he tries to pretend he hasn't been holding back his own tears. “You'll be back here, or back in Kirkwall, or you know, soon enough.”

She nods bleakly, her silence more an answer than any words would be. They all make their way back to the ship, Esther leaning heavily on Merrill’s shorter form as though she’s lost the strength to hold herself up. Varric carries his things to a waiting merchant cart, heckling and giving bad advice even to the last, and then he's swallowed up by the unfamiliar map of the city and Esther has to grip the ship’s railing with all her strength to prevent herself from running after him.

They set sail in the morning, and it’s all she can do to convince herself that Merrill and Isabela aren't ghosts, too.

[vhenadahls]

every weekend we hitchhike to hell

Prompted by @momsthetic - impatiens (impatience)

Merrill never imagined she would meet someone who considered her excessively patient. A normal amount of patient, maybe, after always being the one left behind to study when the others were hunting and learning the Vir Tanadhal, but not excessively so.

But Esther, wonderful, exciting Esther whose defining characteristic is an inability to stop moving, seems to think that any amount of patience is excessive. Even now, when it's Merrill who's asking for it and Isabela who needs it.

“Maker’s balls,” Isabela says through gritted teeth, her eyes darting back and forth between Merrill kneeling next to her and Esther pacing back and forth across the sand. “Can't you hold still for just one second, Hawke?”

Esther slows to a stop, her fingers tapping rhythmically against her thigh, and when she turns back to them her face is pinched with exhaustion. “I'm sorry. I'm just...this is my job. Merrill's not a healer.”

“But I'm not out of mana,” Merrill says, looking pointedly at the empty row of lyrium potions hanging from Esther's belt. “Now help me hold her still.”

Kicking the dead body of a qunari sten out of the way, Esther comes to kneel behind Isabela, still nearly vibrating with frustration and impatience at not being able to do more. She braces Isabela's shoulders against her knees, and Isabela tilts her head back to look upside-down at Esther.

“Been a long time since I've been between your legs, eh, Hawke?” Her voice is shaky, but strong, and after a moment Esther laughs heartily and Merrill starts to giggle. The brief moment of levity gives them all a chance to refocus, and Merrill rests her hands on either side of the deep wound in Isabela's thigh.

Merrill's magic, ancient and bloody and angry, is not well-suited to healing. But it'll work in a pinch, and Isabela's shoulders release some of their tension as Merrill does what she can to ease the pain. By the time they're finished and wrapping her leg in bandages, Fenris has returned from checking that the path back to the city is still clear, and Esther helps Isabela climb onto her back for the slog back to Kirkwall.

The trip is long and slow, everyone quiet as they focus their flagging energy on walking rather than talking, but as they turn towards Darktown Esther can finally feel her mana start to regenerate. Anders ushers them all inside once they reach the clinic, eyes darting warily to make sure they weren't followed, and Esther deposits Isabela onto a nearby bed as they both groan with relief. After checking that Isabela's settled, Esther heads for the door, but Anders waves her back with a roll of his eyes.

“Wait, Hawke, I'm taking a look at all of you this time. You've got to stop letting yourself use this much mana all at once, it's not good for you.” Esther pouts, but she does as he asks and leans against one of the support columns, foot tapping.

Isabela props herself up on one elbow, wincing as she jostles her leg but still shooting Esther a wide, toothy grin. “Patience is a virtue, Hawke, didn't you know?”

There's a moment of stunned silence, everyone staring at each other as they process, and then the whole group bursts into laughter.

“Quiet, you,” Esther shoots back, but there's no venom in her voice, and they all settle down to wait as Anders pulls a stool over to Isabela.

[vhenadahls]

I just saw that Parks and Rec gifset with the Eagle One code names bit, and I’m just -

Esther: You will address me as Eagle One. Isabela is ‘Been There, Done That.’ Merrill is 'Currently Doing That.’ Aveline is 'It Happened Once In A Dream.’ Fenris is 'If I Had To Pick A Dude.’ Varric is…Eagle Two.

Varric: Oh thank the Maker.

[vhenadahls]

i’ve got heart, you’ve got class, we’ve got style

Also prompted by @momsthetic - Isabela + Esther Hawke, “I think you missed your calling.”

Title from the song “Hold Me New York” by Meghan Tonjes.

They're sneaking back into the harbormaster’s office, late at night and obviously after hours, and Isabela is still needling. “I can't believe you needed me to suggest this, Hawke. You were going to pay him off! In sovereigns! Who does that?”

Esther rolls her eyes, turning to wag a finger in Isabela's face. “We're doing this for your friend, you know. Don't make me turn this burglary around.”

Varric bursts into laughter at that, and even Carver snorts and then coughs unconvincingly. Isabela looks around at the three of them, seemingly sizing up her options, and then sighs. “Lead on, Serah Hawke.”

Eyes twinkling with laughter, Esther tilts her head at Isabela and climbs the harbormaster's stairs, kneeling in front of the doorway. She holds her hand out to Varric, palm up. “May I?” He hands over a few of his lockpicking tools, and Isabela scoffs as Esther eases two into the lock. They're all quiet for a moment, and then there's a soft click and the door swings open with a creak. Esther stands and brushes off her knees, gesturing into the darkened office dramatically. “After you, Messere.”

Isabela groans and stalks inside, ignoring Varric's snickers and Carver’s fake coughs. Esther follows close behind, her eyes better in the dark than Isabela's, and points to a lockbox on a desk in the corner. “Might be in there.”

Nodding, Isabela moves to the desk, pulling her own lockpicking tools from her sash. “This one’s mine, sweet thing,” she mutters under her breath. The other three shuffle around the office as Isabela works the lockbox, and she's just heard the final pin fall into place when there's a cry of triumph from the other side of the room.

“Found it!” Esther says, holding up a piece of paper she's pulled from a nondescript folder. “Woodrow’s Warehouse, other side of the docks. Good enough for you, Is?” Sighing inwardly (of course Esther would find what they needed, somewhere unexpected), Isabela nods, pocketing her tools and following the others back to the door.

She sighs for real when they emerge into the open - another group of Dog Lords and their mabari have tried to camp in the courtyard, and Esther sets one on fire just as Isabela draws her daggers.

“You ever think you missed your calling, Hawke?” she shouts, weaving around a Dog Lord who seems intent on bashing her with his shield.

Esther raps a mabari on the head with the end of her staff before sending a heavy block of stone its way. “And what would that be?”

A few moments pass before Isabela answers, parrying before rolling backwards. “Being a pain in my ass!”

There's silence from the other three, and Isabela stabs the Dog Lord trying to sneak up on her and kicks his body away before they all fall apart. Varric starts to laugh so hard that he's easily detectable even in stealth, and Carver sounds like he's about to choke. Esther, also roaring with laughter, dispatches the last of the gang and leans against the courtyard wall to try and catch her breath, using her staff to prop herself up.

Varric joins her against the wall, looking up at Isabela as she cleans her daggers. He lifts his shoulder towards Esther, and she tries to stop laughing long enough to hear what he's saying. “Well, Rivaini, if that truly is her calling, I think she's found it full well.”

[vhenadahls]

I want to put up a full, actual page for all my OCs at some point, but I want to have all of my characters written together somewhere now so I can point at this when I want a whole list of them.

(There are seventeen in this list, but only a few of them have any real content.)

complete fic tag

dragon age canon

nataliya lavellan

trying to bloom in snow

otp: you make the cold disappear (josephine)

otf: never out of second chances (leliana)

natfic

other posts

esther hawke

ringing joyful and triumphant

otp: one head tilted on the other (merrill)

otf: together we’re chaotic rhyme (varric)

otf: sail on silver girl (isabela)

estherfic

other posts

nainsí tabris

all i’ve got is two hands

qpp: the night sky is changing overhead (sigrun)

otf: the compass i’ve always held (shianni)

nainsífic

other posts

mass effect canon

arynn ryder

can your science explain why it rains

otp: where the daylight begins (vetra)

arynnfic

other posts

nadia shepard

lorem ipsum after all

otp: queen’s gambit accepted (sam)

otf: joke’s on you (garrus)

other assorted ocs, mostly retired

maia hawke

never been one for bravery

otp: stay beyond the sunrise (isabela)

otf: never such devoted sisters (bethany)

maiafic

other posts

janna cadash

rather be causing the chaos

otp: all i need in this life of sin (sera)

jannafic

other posts

roshan lavellan

roshan tag goes here

otp: i should be over all the butterflies (dilara)

roshan x dilara x cassandra

ryleigh amell

ryleigh needs a tag

ryleigh x leliana tag

jenna ryder

someone is wrong on the internet

romanced peebee and cora, no tag yet

colleen shepard

every beat’s a reckoning

colleen x liara tag

amelie trevelyan

not a ghost of a chance

romanced cullen, no tag yet

bridget hawke

can’t take the holy out of the water

romanced sebastian, no tag yet

havva adaar

(romanced bull, no tags yet)

mysie lavellan

(romanced solas, no tags yet)

eirwen mahariel

(romanced zevran, no tags yet)

celeste hawke

(an experiment. no romance, no tags)