#spider - boof

[irushhater]

CC SPIDERSONAS! 🕸

the inspo behind making these was the fact that i had gotten into irushtheworld around the time i has watched spiderverse, and he had shown insane interest in spiderman in general. thus spawned the first spidersona i made:

SpiderRush!

what makes me most proud of this is that loves it! hes said multiple time how cool it is and such and it makes me very happy.

then, i began to itch to make more sonas. and the idea struck to use spiderman action figures as the base pose for these designs. which led me to make:

Spider - X!

its not incredibly obvious that this is a cscoop spidersona, modeled a bit after his new felix the cat rip-off (his words) sona.

soon enough i made another, which took near twice as long as the previous because i kept getting distracted by his 12 hr stream:

Spider Joko!

i even got input from him whilst making it; if i hadnt hed be wearing a goober hat! but this isnt truly the final design. i had been unhappy with the eyes right when i finalized it and never got around to fixing them until a few weeks ago:

i think they look tons better! much easier to draw proportionally.

and finally, my most recent cc spidersona, which i decided to actually plan out and brainstorm for:

Spider - Boof!

boofdelivery!! i took a few aspects from smthe red scout and a certain piece of boof fanart by johnnydoodss to plan this out. ive never drawn shoes like that before but im proud of them!

thank you for reading! i spent a lot of time making all of these, and they substantially helped me to exit my art block! i hope you all enjoy them as much as i do! :3

[foolpoof]

doc ock passes you the spider boof wyd

edit of like one of the funniest panels from spider-man that isn’t an actual joke lol

had a hilarious time creating a comic style spider boof

[interdimensionalvoid]

In the time stuff happens Chaos makes protection (friendship) contracts, Shop when he was human helped him learn how to word things in contractual business ways (only like three or four people ever signed them and only two remember him)

But ye cast is

Map bats Nix and Blight! Two bats made of darkness and light here to help create warehouse maps!

Entertainer bun Tilps! Sha and illu saved her at the same time so shes split in the middle of light and darkness, she does some shows in around the middle of the building to help give people some kind of moral, kinda lonely and boring down there when people dont interact much ya know?

Spider Whessta-Nottiem! Has beef with chaos, stabbed him after she was turned cuz remembered him and scared, and that made him scared of her. Remembers her time as a human and tries to save the people trapped, she'll guide karra and try her best to help.

Shopkeeper Boof! Big guy, illu lead him into his almost death but saw he was still alive, so turned him as a show of respect. Made of light and turned into a big samoyd, now he stays around the lower floors having his own wares and helping people feel better only for some pets!

Shop Keep Er- you know him. Bitchass. Has no name but got called a shopkeeper so just deemed it as a name, shortened to Shop.

Almost dies main Mayne! Hiking incident leads him to be battered by the floors continuing to break under him. Chaos catches him and saves him before he dies, putting him into a turning process. He needs to get out before the powers of the warehouse turn him completely and makes him forget himself or before it kills him.

Character Karra! Wanted to go hiking and accidentally chose to rest and explore the warehouse, the place that almost kills her friend. The warehouse ignores her mostly, focused on Mayne, which helps her get down floors a lot.

I have afew characters ive cut out since i realized they didnt fit the vibes that well or they werent needed and i just couldnt keep tryna make them stay ehnjd, love the cast though, dunno if i forgot anyone

I LOVE THIS SM

[smokeybrandreviews]

Smokey brand Movie Reviews: Back For the Very First Time

It’s the end of the year and time i look back on my cinema-going journey over these past twelve months. This one is special because it’s the first since the Boof, that i actually got to go to the theater, itself. I’ve seen a ton of flicks this year had to make up for lost time, and there’s still one i want o check out. I probably won’t see that one, The Whale, because my city is an uncultured cow-town and we never get movies like that in their initial limited run. It’ll probably make it’s way to these parts sometime in January but know, if i had seen it before the turn of the year, it’d probably be pretty high on this list. That said, these are my top films of the year. I recommend all of them because they were wildly entertaining.

10. The Batman

This was a disappointment. I mean, it’s good, super grounded, and actually adapted something new but, at the same time, it was wildly underwhelming. I’ve seen it a few times and with each viewing, I'm less enamored with the entire concept of Battinson. The film, itself, is amazing and i do believe it was one of the best releases this year but I'd be lying if i said it didn’t expect more from Matt Reeves. It feels like a palette swap of The Dark night, like Reeves just watched all of Nolan’s films and stole his homework. Best Batmobile ever brought to film, though.

9. Hellraiser

I was all over this when it was announced that The Hell Priest would present feminine. If you know anything about The Hellbound Heart, then you know that this single change, mad e the new Hellraiser the most accurate adaption of that novella. And then it wasn’t. They cribbed a bit from Barkers yarn but did something wholly original with the lore, with the world, and i dug all of it. This isn’t the Hellraiser i know but it’s a Hellraiser i want to see more of.

8. The Northman

I’m a sucker for my Shakespeare adaptions and this is straight up Hamlet, but with a wildly brutal presentation and the meticulously crafted narrative from Robert Eggers. This man is fast becoming one of my favorite creatives. Dude literally only has three entries on his filmography and they’re all bangers. They’re all on my all-time list. It’s absurd how deft a storyteller this man is. His vision is only matched by his creativity and The Northman really drives that fact home.

7. Pearl

The dark horse A24 entry that made the list at the finish line. I was tempted to put X on this thing but then Pearl quietly dropped and i was absolutely captivated by Mia Goth. I’ve always been a fan of her work but Pearl really demonstrates why i love her so much. his is every bit her film as it is Ti West’s. Goth absolutely devastates as Pearl and it’s a macabre pleasure to witness. X was good and genuinely deserves a spot on this list but Pearl is everything that film was and so much more.

6. Sonic the Hedgehog 2

This one was surprising. It’s the rare sequel that is better than the original. I didn’t expect to like the first Sonic film as much as i did because of how derivative it turned out to bee, but, borderline cliche aside, i had a blast with Sonic 2. It’s weird to see but i think Hollywood is right on the cusp of properly cracking video game adaptions. Detective Pikachu, Arcane, and now this? Yeah, this feels like Batman Begins just dropped and Iron Man is just a few years away. We’ll see how Mario does next year.

5. Doctor Strange and the Multiverse of Madness

This thing should have really been called Wanda Maximoff and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day because, goddamn! Who’d have thought that the Scarlet Witch would be up there with Killmonger, Thanos, and every villain MCU Spider-Man has faced, as one of the best antagonists in the entire MCU. Honestly, for my money, MoM was the most entertaining entry from The House of Ideas and i say the knowing i like Wakanda Forever more but this thing is re-watchable. I don’t see myself ever watching Black Panther II again. That one hurts. This one is fun.

4. Prey

Bro. Bro... Look, I've been wildly transparent about my love for all things Xeno. I love the Alien franchise and that means, by proxy, i love the Predator franchise. I’ve gushed about my love for Machiko Noguchi, the first human Predator. I’ve lamented about the missed opportunity to adapt that original AvP story line to film and hat would be lost when The Mouse House got a hold of the franchise. Prey proved me wrong. This thing is the best Predator film released to date, outside of the first, i am DYING to see what comes next. F*cking brilliant watch, all day and a real throwback to the Eighties where you had to work around tech limitations to tell your story.

3. Black Panther: Wakanda Forever

This movie was an exercise in pain. I liked it, i did, but it was a rough watch. Ryan Coogler has crafted a genuinely emotional dirge requiem for Chadwick Boseman and the character of T’Challa. His shadow looms over this entire film and it weighs on your psyche as you watch. It’s heartbreaking but incredibly beautiful. It is, admittedly, flawed in a lot of places but i still enjoyed it. I still enjoyed how much love was put into this film. It’s gorgeous and a legitimately sweet good-bye to Wakanda as we knew it.

2a: Nope

Nope is one of the most authentically black films i have ever seen. This sh*t just hits different. Like, watching this thing makes me feel like i would react in the exact same ways as Em and OJ. Seriously, this is how my cousins and i would act if Jan Jacket showed up over our house. I love that. I love this movie. It’s not as good as Get Out but i think it’s the most accessible film Peele has ever made.

2b. Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery

I just watched this thing a few days ago and I'm still enamored with how brilliant Glass Onion is. From top to bottom, this is a tour de force in film-making and i adored every second of it. Rian Johnson gets so much sh*t for The Last Jedi but this man can craft a film with the best of them. Also, he wrote the f*cking thing! I forgot to mention that in my review but he wrote that whole movie. Story, script, screenplay; All him. It just frustrates me how brilliant this man is, and how sh*t The Last Jedi turned out.

1. Everything Everywhere All at Once

This one is easily the best film I've seen all year. Everything about it absolutely screams masterwork. This one was my A24 entry for the year an I'm glad i made the effort to check it out because, holy sh*t, is this film fantastic! Never mind all of the pretty blatant brilliance that i covered in my proper review, i just really respect the f*ck out of this trend in film to deal with generational trauma. We saw a lot of this during the year with films like Turning Red, Encanto, and even a little bit in Shang-Chi but Everything really put in the work with this sh*t. I left that theater feeling. Just, feeling. I reflected on the scars i have from my parents and how they have shaped my own worldviews. It’s rare that a film leaves me that introspective and i have to give full credit to this movie for allowing me to experience that, after so goddamn long.

Honorable Mentions: Turning Red, Weird: The Al Yankovic Story, Three Thousand Years of Longing, Blonde, X, Beavis and Butt-Head Do the Universe, Tár, Morbius (For the memes), The Black Phone, Jackass Forever, Bullet Train, Chip 'n Dale: Rescue Rangers, Barbarian, V/H/S/99

Not Jurassic World: Dominion, though. Never Jurassic World: Dominion. That movie was terrible. Worst than Fallen Kingdom and THAT was a whole ass exercise in masochism just to watch.

[smokeybrand]

Smokey brand Movie Reviews: Back For the Very First Time

It’s the end of the year and time i look back on my cinema-going journey over these past twelve months. This one is special because it’s the first since the Boof, that i actually got to go to the theater, itself. I’ve seen a ton of flicks this year had to make up for lost time, and there’s still one i want o check out. I probably won’t see that one, The Whale, because my city is an uncultured cow-town and we never get movies like that in their initial limited run. It’ll probably make it’s way to these parts sometime in January but know, if i had seen it before the turn of the year, it’d probably be pretty high on this list. That said, these are my top films of the year. I recommend all of them because they were wildly entertaining.

10. The Batman

This was a disappointment. I mean, it’s good, super grounded, and actually adapted something new but, at the same time, it was wildly underwhelming. I’ve seen it a few times and with each viewing, I'm less enamored with the entire concept of Battinson. The film, itself, is amazing and i do believe it was one of the best releases this year but I'd be lying if i said it didn’t expect more from Matt Reeves. It feels like a palette swap of The Dark night, like Reeves just watched all of Nolan’s films and stole his homework. Best Batmobile ever brought to film, though.

9. Hellraiser

I was all over this when it was announced that The Hell Priest would present feminine. If you know anything about The Hellbound Heart, then you know that this single change, mad e the new Hellraiser the most accurate adaption of that novella. And then it wasn’t. They cribbed a bit from Barkers yarn but did something wholly original with the lore, with the world, and i dug all of it. This isn’t the Hellraiser i know but it’s a Hellraiser i want to see more of.

8. The Northman

I’m a sucker for my Shakespeare adaptions and this is straight up Hamlet, but with a wildly brutal presentation and the meticulously crafted narrative from Robert Eggers. This man is fast becoming one of my favorite creatives. Dude literally only has three entries on his filmography and they’re all bangers. They’re all on my all-time list. It’s absurd how deft a storyteller this man is. His vision is only matched by his creativity and The Northman really drives that fact home.

7. Pearl

The dark horse A24 entry that made the list at the finish line. I was tempted to put X on this thing but then Pearl quietly dropped and i was absolutely captivated by Mia Goth. I’ve always been a fan of her work but Pearl really demonstrates why i love her so much. his is every bit her film as it is Ti West’s. Goth absolutely devastates as Pearl and it’s a macabre pleasure to witness. X was good and genuinely deserves a spot on this list but Pearl is everything that film was and so much more.

6. Sonic the Hedgehog 2

This one was surprising. It’s the rare sequel that is better than the original. I didn’t expect to like the first Sonic film as much as i did because of how derivative it turned out to bee, but, borderline cliche aside, i had a blast with Sonic 2. It’s weird to see but i think Hollywood is right on the cusp of properly cracking video game adaptions. Detective Pikachu, Arcane, and now this? Yeah, this feels like Batman Begins just dropped and Iron Man is just a few years away. We’ll see how Mario does next year.

5. Doctor Strange and the Multiverse of Madness

This thing should have really been called Wanda Maximoff and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day because, goddamn! Who’d have thought that the Scarlet Witch would be up there with Killmonger, Thanos, and every villain MCU Spider-Man has faced, as one of the best antagonists in the entire MCU. Honestly, for my money, MoM was the most entertaining entry from The House of Ideas and i say the knowing i like Wakanda Forever more but this thing is re-watchable. I don’t see myself ever watching Black Panther II again. That one hurts. This one is fun.

4. Prey

Bro. Bro... Look, I've been wildly transparent about my love for all things Xeno. I love the Alien franchise and that means, by proxy, i love the Predator franchise. I’ve gushed about my love for Machiko Noguchi, the first human Predator. I’ve lamented about the missed opportunity to adapt that original AvP story line to film and hat would be lost when The Mouse House got a hold of the franchise. Prey proved me wrong. This thing is the best Predator film released to date, outside of the first, i am DYING to see what comes next. F*cking brilliant watch, all day and a real throwback to the Eighties where you had to work around tech limitations to tell your story.

3. Black Panther: Wakanda Forever

This movie was an exercise in pain. I liked it, i did, but it was a rough watch. Ryan Coogler has crafted a genuinely emotional dirge requiem for Chadwick Boseman and the character of T’Challa. His shadow looms over this entire film and it weighs on your psyche as you watch. It’s heartbreaking but incredibly beautiful. It is, admittedly, flawed in a lot of places but i still enjoyed it. I still enjoyed how much love was put into this film. It’s gorgeous and a legitimately sweet good-bye to Wakanda as we knew it.

2a: Nope

Nope is one of the most authentically black films i have ever seen. This sh*t just hits different. Like, watching this thing makes me feel like i would react in the exact same ways as Em and OJ. Seriously, this is how my cousins and i would act if Jan Jacket showed up over our house. I love that. I love this movie. It’s not as good as Get Out but i think it’s the most accessible film Peele has ever made.

2b. Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery

I just watched this thing a few days ago and I'm still enamored with how brilliant Glass Onion is. From top to bottom, this is a tour de force in film-making and i adored every second of it. Rian Johnson gets so much sh*t for The Last Jedi but this man can craft a film with the best of them. Also, he wrote the f*cking thing! I forgot to mention that in my review but he wrote that whole movie. Story, script, screenplay; All him. It just frustrates me how brilliant this man is, and how sh*t The Last Jedi turned out.

1. Everything Everywhere All at Once

This one is easily the best film I've seen all year. Everything about it absolutely screams masterwork. This one was my A24 entry for the year an I'm glad i made the effort to check it out because, holy sh*t, is this film fantastic! Never mind all of the pretty blatant brilliance that i covered in my proper review, i just really respect the f*ck out of this trend in film to deal with generational trauma. We saw a lot of this during the year with films like Turning Red, Encanto, and even a little bit in Shang-Chi but Everything really put in the work with this sh*t. I left that theater feeling. Just, feeling. I reflected on the scars i have from my parents and how they have shaped my own worldviews. It’s rare that a film leaves me that introspective and i have to give full credit to this movie for allowing me to experience that, after so goddamn long.

Honorable Mentions: Turning Red, Weird: The Al Yankovic Story, Three Thousand Years of Longing, Blonde, X, Beavis and Butt-Head Do the Universe, Tár, Morbius (For the memes), The Black Phone, Jackass Forever, Bullet Train, Chip 'n Dale: Rescue Rangers, Barbarian, V/H/S/99

Not Jurassic World: Dominion, though. Never Jurassic World: Dominion. That movie was terrible. Worst than Fallen Kingdom and THAT was a whole ass exercise in masochism just to watch.

[roshield]

"You seem to attract a lot of people, Torgal..."

Torgal lets out the most simplest of 'boofs' in response to Clive's words, before the two of them look back at the woman before them. Well-dressed and almost unassuming, yet Clive felt like he was thrown into a spider's nest, for some reason. Almost like he was speaking to Isabelle once more...

"He was raised as a pup. He was separated from his pack, so my father took him in and gave him to me." Clive pats Torgal on the head, rubbing behind his ears. "So I suppose we had an easier time raising him since he wasn't fully grown."

She fired her questions off, though. Raised by them? That was silly, wolves probably don't raise humans. Did he really seem that wolfish? Torgal is a sweetheart... when he's not given the command to bite off someone's limb. And then her final question. Clive is a man, and such innuendos aren't lost on him.

"E.... Excuse me?" He can feel the tips of his ears reddening. "... You're a strange woman, aren't you?"

@roshield

❝ well, you don't see that everyday. ❞ the comment leaves her lips with an almost genuine inflection in her voice. before her was a wolf, accompanying an equally puppy-eyed man. now, such canines were not the most typical pets. an amused hum is audible from the huntress' lips, deciding she might as well kill time and 'get to know' the other inhabitants of this city. ❝ humor me a little. how does one go about taming a wolf? i can't imagine that'd be an easy endeavor. ❞ perhaps for most people.

she takes a few steps closer to the pair, heels clacking against the pavement as she continues in her little, friendly interrogation. ❝ were you raised by a pack of them? is the little guy a sweetheart? or maybe... ❞ she eyes the swordsman from head to toe, smile ever-staying on her lips. ❝ are you just as much of a beast as he is? ❞

[ask-the-music-man]

Ben please don't hurt the spider boyo-

Sniff sniff

“Oh... They’re just tired.”

[artnerd1123]

⅀ ⅀ ⅀

Uhh welp—

There’s 3 there, so how bout... mmm... nettles, fena, and ruffy?

Quest-filled seafaring and nefarious plots prove a little boring, forest nymph life is much more appealing (ง’̀w‘́)ﾉ──☆*:・ﾟ

Werewolf and vampire rivalry emphasized by village attack, smol boofer left alone and extremely resentful (ง’̀-‘́)ง

Defective spider feels regret for life n goes into hiding after one (1) exhausted and horrified look from his originator :/

[duckymcdoorknob]

Tumblr is boof as hell. So I had to put a pic of your request @veryblushyswitch.

ITS ALSO A LIL SHORT BUT I BIG SLEEPY AND NODDING OFF.

“You’re not going anywhere, Eiji!” (Y/N) growled, pulling on their boyfriend’s tie.

“Baby! C’mon! You know how nervous I am about this!” The redhead whined, turning to face his partner.

“I’m not letting you out of the house with a blue blazer and a yellow tie.” (Y/N) said more calmly, stifling a chuckle.

Kirishima looked down in sheepishness, letting his lips curl into a goofy grin, “oops.”

“Yeah.” (Y/N) kissed his nose, “oops.”

The spiky haired hero simply giggled at the sweet contact. Turning on his heel to go and change again. When he emerged from the hallway, he had on the blue blazer and a red tie.

“Now you look like the president.” (Y/N) let their fingers run up the length of the tie, “it’s like you’re trying to make me laugh.”

“Baby please believe me, I’m tryin’ my best here.” Kirishima replied in exasperation.

(Y/N) sighed and went into Kirishima’s closet, grabbing the redhead’s black blazer. They removed the blue one and replaced it with the black, keeping the red tie around his neck.

“Much better?” The spiky haired hero inquired.

“Much.” (Y/N) replied, once again kissing his nose, illiciting a giggle from the latter.

“Your giggles are music to my ears, my daring.” (Y/N) cooed, letting their fingers spider along their boyfriend’s neck.

“Hehehehehey!” Kirishima whined, scrunching his shoulders upward.

“Oh now none of that.” His partner spoke calmly, gently pinching one of his ears.

“Bahahahahbehehe! Wehehe’rehehe gohohohonahaha behehehe lahahatehehe!” The redhead notes, staring toward the large analog clock on the wall.

“So be it. I want to hear my beautiful boyfriend giggle. Remember?” (Y/N) replied as they let their fingers dance over their boyfriend’s side.

“HAHAHEHEHEHEY! NOHOHOHOHO!” Kirishima reached his hands down, only for them to be gripped.

“You have to calm down my darling! My family will adore you!” You stated, pulling Kirishima’s arms over his head.

“NOHOHOHOHO’ the redhead writhed in an attempt to free himself from his inevitable fate.

“YEHEHEHES!” (Y/N) mocked, digging their digits into Kirishima’s underarm.

The spiky haired boy howled in both amusement and agony, loving the attention from his partner, and yet wanting the torture to end.

“You gonna stop being so nervous? It’s just my folks.” (Y/N) dared to tease, reaching up to blow in their boyfriend’s ear.

“EEP! YEHEHEHES IHIHIHHILL CAHAHAHLM DOHOHOHOWN!” Kirishima whined, gently trying to scrunch his neck up.

(Y/N) immediately stopped their attack, cooing at the sight of their sweet partner, “See. Not so scary. They’re going to love you sweetheart, only if you wear black and red, not blue and black.”

“Mmm. I love you babe.” Kirishima replies almost instantly.

“I love you too my darling, now let’s get ready for dinner.”

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

Which 2p would be ok w their s/o’s doggo sleeping/sharing the bed? Like not under the blanket but the dog likes to sleep on the bed corner facing the door (they want to guard s/o).

There are more nations that would let dogs into their beds, but these fives would love to have the dog in their bed.

America – This man already owns Makwa, who does something similar. Except Makwa lays on top of Allen, making sure that he doesn’t stop breathing. So, when his doll’s doggo comes in acting like a soldier, Allen’s gonna coo over it. Holding their face and smushing it while playfully moving it around. Allen’s also gonna give a lot of treats.

There are no animals Allen loves more than dogs and his doll’s being protective melts his heart. He knows that he doesn’t have to worry about her when he’s not around because she has that big boof to watch over her.

Australia – Theo may be a fan of arachnids, but he does have a soft spot for canines. He knows the relationship between people and their pets runs deep and his bitsy is no exception. The sight of the dog laying on the bed, ready to defend them from any danger makes him smile. The level of protectiveness also calms Theo, because he hopes that her dog will also be willing to defend him and their home.

He may not give an excess of treats like Allen, but Theo does take the time to give head pats and chin scritches. The leg bounce is very cute to him.

(Yes, his lover is called bitsy, like from the itsy-bitsy spider. What can I say, he loves arachnids.)

Denmark – Markell may not have owned any pets, but he has worked with dogs, specifically Broholmers for centuries. This changed his view of dogs from just a simple animal, to one of respect. One such reason is that Markell knows dogs can and will fight to the death for their masters. He’s seen it too many times to deny it.

So, to say that Markell is willing to let the dog sleep in the bed is an understatement. He makes sure that nothing is left in its spot, and it has its own blanket to curl under. A few head pats are given each night while his lover is getting ready for bed.

Prussia – Wil, similar to Markell, has worked with dogs for centuries. They ran along with his horse as they charged after boars and acted as beasts of comfort. Bright eyes and listening ears to help carry the sorrow that men felt.

Maus’ dog would be treated well. A simple corner cleared and always ready for it to lay upon. Wil would give a simple head pat every night and ask the big boof if it was ready to stand guard. In the end, he would feel a bit better having a dog in the room.

Germania­ – Amalric taught all of his children to respect canines. His darling's dog would be no exception to receiving it, so don’t be shocked if he invited them into the room first.

He has loved dogs since his childhood, and they were one of the animals that he used when it came to teaching Wil hunting. Knowing their worth and potential, Amalric would always be content to see the dog on the bed. He would praise darling’s dog and often tell his darling about his own hounds. Remarking about how similar it is to his past hounds. This would occur every night for a couple of months, but even after that, there would be a couple of nights where he would just reminisce.

[itemdrop]

you’ve boofed your last spider

[nintendometro]

BOOF, from ‘Spider-Man 2′ on the Game Boy Color. @torusgames

[queenofbaws]

DA2: Well...Shit - 2

Chapter: 2/3 Words: 5,489 Rating: T (Language) Summary: What are best friends FOR, if not pretending to date you so your mother will get off your back? Luckily for Hawke, she and Varric are pretty good at pretending to be in lo...oh. Oh no. Author’s note: Hey friendos! As usual, this one’s on AO3 too, and a link will be added later in the notes. I had SUCH good intentions of following up on this prompt from the wonderful @untouchable-face...but then COVID happened, and, well...shit. Right? Previous | Next ---

The moment she was jostled awake, Hawke made the executive decision to educate whoever had been responsible on the finer points of being a pincushion.

Points, ha.

Now to be fair, she’d only been half-asleep when she felt the nudge at her side, so it wasn’t as though they’d gone out of their way to shake her out of a dead slumber, but still, she had limits. Not many. Not a whole lot. But some.

And being woken up before her time to take watch? Being woken up before being able to recover from the day’s chaos? Pretty damn high up on that short, short list.

She scrubbed at her face with her hands and felt something peculiar happen as she did so. Namely, whoever’d just jabbed her awake shifted beside her, taking a good portion of the bedroll with them. Once she dropped her hands, the dim light of their makeshift tent was more than enough to show her the perpetrator.

“It’s your turn,” Varric grumbled, his voice slurred with exhaustion and the beginnings of sleep, turning his consonants into mush.

“My turn to what?” Hawke reached over to grab a corner of the blanket they’d been using only for Varric to bat her hand away without a second thought. “Hey!”

“Your turn to check on the children,” he continued in that same sleepy mumble, but oh, she was hardly fooled—there was just a bit too much amusement in his voice for her to buy that particular act. Beside her, Dog lifted his great head from the ground and let out a ‘boof!’ that managed to somehow sound very much like agreement.

A moment later, it finally clicked in her head what he’d said. The children?

The children.

Well, that explained it. The sun had gotten to him after all. The job had taken them much longer than anticipated, and there was something about the Wounded Coast that really just made the sunlight feel that much hotter, that much brighter, and her own face was aching with a burn she suspected would turn to peeling tomorrow, so obviously—

As though he could hear her thoughts, she watched Varric lift his arm, not pointing so much as vaguely gesturing towards the mouth of the tent. She turned that way, perplexed, and then rolled her eyes when she heard them.

“Oh for the love of—”

There was a rustling as Varric rolled onto his side, tucking himself deeper under the blanket. “Your turn,” he said again, voice taking on a singsong quality that was so familiar to her that she could hear the curve of his self-satisfied smirk even without being able to see it.

Now, it could not be said that her need for retribution was extinguished—it was not—but oh, oh did the target of her anger shift. Well. The targets. Plural. Really, given the distance between the tent and the fire, it was almost impressive that those two could be carrying on loud enough to wake them.

‘Almost,’ of course, being the operative word.

She took another second to let herself wake up before patting Dog’s head, muttering, “All right, c’mon then,” as she scratched his ears. The mabari seemed much less inclined towards vengeance, though, and after offering her a sleepy-eyed look, simply lowered his head onto the bedroll again. Hawke sighed and got to her knees, pushing her way through the flaps of the tent before brushing herself off and straightening up. “Traitor,” she yawned, “You call yourself a Fereldan…”

It couldn’t be said that they’d gone to great pains to camouflage themselves, but the Wounded Coast was the Wounded Coast, and when faced with the reality of bandits and Tal-Vashoth and giant spiders, they’d at least taken some precaution to keep from being seen. Precaution that Anders and Fenris had apparently chosen to throw to the wind. Per the usual.

Enough sleep still clouded her thoughts that she found it easier to focus on the crunching of the sand beneath her feet than their bickering. She’d heard it all before, anyway—Anders’s indignation, Fenris’s quick replies—save for the nouns, it was always more or less the same. Loud. Constant. Exhausting. Already she felt her patience waning, wanting nothing more than to climb back into the semi-darkness of the tent, to get even five more blasted minutes of rest, to set her head down on Varric’s shoulder and—

Just like that, she could hear Isabela’s snickering, feel the weight of Merrill’s eyes, and ughhh.

Well now she was awake. Okay, obviously she had to rein all that in…to focus on the task at hand.

As she approached them, there was a fleeing moment, beautiful though it was, where she imagined reaching over with both her hands and bringing their heads crashing together. It was a mental image she found herself entertaining more and more often those days, and now that she was sunburnt and sleep-deprived (and desperately searching for something to focus on other than the memory of Varric sleeping warm against her side), Andraste guide them, the impulse was stronger than ever.

“One good reason why I should show mercy and not sic my fearsome hound on the both of you.” She dropped herself into the sand between them with an unceremonious huff, looking first to one then to the other as she waited. For now, the head-smashing could wait. The very least she could do was give them a chance to shut their gobs of their own accord. A single chance. “One reason—that’s all I need! One reason why it would be wrong of me to string you up by your innards for ruining my much-needed beauty rest.”

As was so often the case, they spoke over each other, their answers muddling where they met in the middle. “Oh, there’s nothing ‘much-needed’ about it,” Anders said, a far-cry from Fenris’s “I would be interested to see you try, Hawke.”

She set her chin in her hands and stared for a moment, not at them (she didn’t need to look to know they’d be glaring daggers at one another), but at the fire instead, watching the sparks dance against the tar-black sky. “Neither of those are reasons not to murder you,” she sighed, “So I suppose you leave me no choice.”

“Here we go.”

“Such a confident tone for someone who will, in short order, be so much breakfast strewn about for the crabs.” She picked at her shirt, cringing at the way the salt and sweat and sand soaked into it chafed her skin. “Now perhaps that last smack to the head earlier tonight jostled things around, but I was so certain that we’d all agreed like big boys and girls that you two would be capable of handling first watch without poking each other’s eyes out.”

“Perhaps you miscounted, Hawke. No one’s missing any eyes.” Anders lowered his gaze to his waterskin, adding a prickly “Yet” before taking a long drink.

Running her hands down her face, she pulled at her cheeks until her fingers pressed divots into her skin. The head-smashing was looking more and more appealing by the moment. “There are times,” she began, craning her head back to stare at the stars as she dropped her hands to the ground once more, fingers digging into the top layer until they found the cool, damp sand beneath, “Where I find myself wondering whether the two of you have ever considered just…popping this bubble of unfathomable sexual tension that exists between you to see whether that might help ease some of the—”

At first, she couldn’t figure out what the sound was. It was so…so unfamiliar, so alien, that for a moment she thought perhaps she’d imagined it. A strange echoing of the waves beating against the shore? An animal caught in a trap somewhere nearby? A dying seabeast bellowing its last before it sank into the briny deep to feed its brethren? But when she looked around to try and find the source of it, she realized the answer was even stranger than that.

Fenris was laughing. He was laughing!

And he was laughing at her.

“Have I hit a sore spot?”

The last of his laughter curled up into a smirk, but she thought she could still see his shoulders shaking ever so slightly as he shrugged. “You might’ve,” Fenris drawled, and he must’ve been looking into the fire as he turned his attention away from her, because there was no way he was meeting Anders’s eyes like that. “But not mine.”

Oh, she was much too tired for this shit.

Hawke narrowed her eyes as she sized Fenris up for a moment longer…and found nothing resembling an explanation there. So she looked to Anders instead, wondering if maybe in her exhaustion she’d missed some joke, some entendre, she’d unintentionally made.

And only furthering her confusion, Anders looked away when her eyes fell on him, a smirk almost identical to Fenris’s tugging at the corners of his mouth. He didn’t say anything, not right away at least, but raised his shoulders in a shrug and flared his fingers out in a gesture that…well, now she knew she must’ve been too bleary-headed to make sense of things, because to her, that gesture sure seemed to be one of agreement. Agreement with Fenris. Agreement with Fenris. The gesture. Suggested. Anders. And Fenris. Were in. Agreement.

There was no longer any question in her mind that she needed to get back to sleep effective immediately.

“What?” Hawke asked, sitting up straighter amid a prickling suspicion Anders, too, was snickering at her. “What did I say?”

He shook his head, but the light of the fire left no room for uncertainty: He was doing a piss-poor job of reining in his own laughter, no question about it. “Nothing, nothing…” When he glanced away, it became clear at once that’d, impossible as it seemed, she’d been right before—he and Fenris were sharing some sort of look. “Just…an interesting accusation to level, that’s all.”

“Interesting?”

“Coming from you,” Fenris added under his breath.

Her eyes flicked between the two of them, and though there was a part of her (the rational part, she had to assume) that thought this lull in their squawking would be the perfect time to take a bow and take her leave, she found she couldn’t leave well enough alone. Never could, really. “Please serah, do go on.”

“Hawke, it’s really noth—”

“Speaking of sexual tension,” and oh, oh, the gleam in Fenris’s eye was just a little too much like the one she’d seen in Isabela’s back in the Hanged Man, “How is Varric doing? Didn’t wake him, did we?”

Had she been in possession of even a single whit of self-restraint, she probably could’ve kept her face from falling. What a dream that would’ve been. “There’s no se—for the last time. We are pretending to be involved so that my mother—”

“And what a performance you’re giving.”

Anders cleared his throat. It did not cover his snickering as well as he seemed to think it did.

Sunburn or no, Hawke felt her face heat up to the point of steaming. All at once she was very glad for the lateness of the hour, for the reddish-orange cast of the fire. At least it would keep them from seeing her turn the color of an overripe tomato. This…was…unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. First Merrill and Isabela and now these two?!

“Oh, so now you get along?” she snapped, taking to her feet without bothering to dust the sand from her pants. “This is what brings you two together, is it? A common interest in busting my chops?”

“Hawke…” Anders chuckled, tilting his head back to watch as she stood. “Don’t be that way. It’s just that—”

“Awfully touchy for someone so sure of themselves,” Fenris added, not laughing outright but sounding close enough to ruffle her feathers the wrong way all the same.

“No,” she said, shaking her head, “Know what? I take it back. All of it. Go on—alert the whole bloody coast that we’re here. Get back to your endless and no doubt illuminating debate about…whatever it was you were nattering over. Mages and their fancy sticks. Cheese prices in Ferelden. The color of the sky…”

Quietly, pointedly, Anders cleared his throat. “You are sounding a bit defensive, you know.”

Glad for the cover of darkness, she turned from the fire and began storming back towards the tent…though only after hissing a curt, “I like you two better when you’re trying to claw each other’s throats out, you know that?! I really do!”

“Touchy, touchy…” one of them muttered in reply—Fenris, if she had to guess—but already she’d put too much distance between herself and the fire to tell with any certainty.

Tired as she was, it took her a few moments longer than she would’ve liked to open the tent flap and slip back inside. She had an awful, lingering fear that she’d be too busy replaying that conversation in her mind to fall asleep anytime soon.

***

The Viscount’s gardens were beautiful that day, a myriad of colors mixing and swirling in the late afternoon haze like watercolors. The air was full of the smell of flowers and the sound of polite conversation, the heat broken by an occasional, blissful puff of breeze. Servants wove in and out of the bustling merrymakers with trays of food and drink, adding the melodic clink of silver and glass to the music of the scene. A more idyllic day had never come to pass in Kirkwall.

And Maker, she was fucking miserable.

It wasn’t enough that she had to suffer the indignity of sitting out there in the direct sunlight chatting with Lord and Lady So-and-So about whatever pointless drivel passed for high society small-talk this season under Mother’s watchful eye, oh nooo. It would’ve been agonizing enough had it only been that, but her humiliation at the hands of her so-called friends was still fresh enough to sting like a smack—and not a smack to a fun spot either, but more like the face or the back of her hand. Who did they think they were, accusing her of something as ridiculous, as preposterous, as downright laughable as being in love with Va—

“You really do take me to all the nicest places.”

Hawke’s glance was scathing over the rim of her glass (or at least she hoped it was, lest a crack in her masterful façade show to let him catch a whiff of what she was actually thinking). She paused that way just long enough to get her point across before taking an impressive gulp of her wine. It was delicious. Horribly, horribly delicious. “You make it sound like I want to be here.”

“You’re the one who was invited, so…” If there was any consolation to be had about the damn thing, it was that Varric looked just as put out as she did…possibly even more so. The sun was clearly getting to him by then, the easy curve of his smile beginning to lose its usual barb, his posture uncomfortable and fidgety. “I’m just here to be eye-candy.” With that, he held his hand out expectantly, polishing off what was left of her drink in one go when she gave it to him.

“Exactly! So why complain about being saddled with a task you excel at so naturally?”

“Dear lady, you flatter me, truly.”

Though she’d never admit it, even in her darkest days, she was beginning to envy the ladies that had thought to bring fans to this pointless ordeal. Maker help her, she didn’t think her Fereldan blood would ever let her hold something so Orlesian in style (she’d in all likelihood burst into flame the moment anything that lacy touched her hand), but that didn’t stop her eyes from flitting to and fro, marking each and every one of them keeping cool while she was sweating into her satin. “Think of it this way,” she suggested, trying to angle herself in a manner that would make her appear both regal and suitably closed-off to any further conversation about summer homes in Val Royeaux or current trends in Antivan fashion. “Every moment you waste here in the baking sun brings you that much closer to writing your next political intrigue.”

Varric hummed at that, twirling the dregs of wine in the glass before setting it on the tray of a passing servant. “Well there’s an idea.”

“A good idea?”

“An idea,” he teased. “See, Hawke, I appreciate the sentiment, really I do, but I feel like you’ve overlooked a real important detail there.”

She turned more fully to him, raising an eyebrow.

“You want a political intrigue, shit’s gotta be intriguing. And this?” He flicked his hand out in a curt wave across the courtyard. “This is about as intriguing as sitting around trying to figure out what Corff puts in the slop that passes for stew these days.”

Now, the Grand Mystery of the Hanged Man’s Stew Meat was, in fact, one she often took part in trying to unravel, so she thought an argument could be made that it would make for a fairly compelling tale…but it didn’t seem the sort of thing one wanted to be caught discussing at one of the Viscount’s salons, especially with the threat of Mother overhearing (and becoming scandalized) being as ever-present as it currently was. So instead of digging her heels into that, she leaned forward just a bit, lowering her voice into a conspiratorial hum. “You want me to make some intrigue?”

He slid his eyes to hers and the both of them grinned, no doubt entertaining the same idea of what such an offer might entail.

“If you value the use of both of your arms, Hawke, I’ll have to strongly advise you against doing anything of the sort.”

She jumped about a mile into the air, clutching her gloved hands tightly to her chest; Varric laughed as though she were putting on a show, so she was happy enough to go along with it, but oh was she glad he couldn’t sense the hammering in her ribs. “Maker’s tits, Aveline…do you think you could maybe move around a bit more? Clear your throat from time to time? Completely forgot you were even there!”

From the side of the bench they’d been seated on, Aveline let out a quiet sigh, a shining statue made of well-polished mail and annoyance. “You forgot the Guard would be present during an event at the Viscount’s estate. You forgot.”

“I have other things on my mind. Things such as…”

“I’ll remind you,” Aveline said stiffly, her patience no doubt worn twice as thin as either hers or Varric’s, considering the heavy armor she was forced to stand in, “It is well within my purview to drag you out of here for making threats.”

Hawke turned to Varric with her eyebrows high and hope in her heart. “Do you think that’s a promise?”

“Hawke.”

Varric leaned in closer and made a grand show of shielding his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m gonna go with yeah, it’s a promise.”

“My oh my.”

“Y’know, the more I think about it…probably more of a threat, honestly.”

By then, Aveline should’ve known them well enough to know that groaning was the biggest mistake she could’ve made—voicing any sort of overt displeasure only encouraged their bad behavior—but groan she did.

Hawke turned in her seat as primly as she could, moving with a grace and poise that fit right in with the rest of the guests…though was clearly a pantomime to the ones that actually knew her. “My good guardswoman,” she gasped, pressing a hand to her heart in faux affront. “I am simply here trying to enjoy the ambience of the gardens with my betrothed—”

“Betrothed?” Varric cut in. “Since when are we betrothed? You know something I don’t know, Hawke?”

She flapped her hand dismissively. “Eh, betrothed, involved, all the same.”

“It’s really not,” Aveline sighed, her voice somehow managing to be derisive and entirely without tone all at once.

“I am simply here trying to enjoy the ambience of the gardens with my very newly betrothed—”

“Better, I guess.”

“—and I will not stand for you looming there making such barbaric threats against my person! Do you know who we are?”

Though she kept her eyes trained on the crowd, Aveline gave a slow, exasperated blink Hawke could nevertheless feel the weight of. “Would that I didn’t.”

“I,” she continued as though she hadn’t heard her, basking in the sound of Varric’s soft laughter beside her, “Just so happen to be the Viscount’s very favorite errand girl, thank you very much. And my handsome dwarven husband here—”

He shook his head but made sure she’d have room enough to set her cheek on his shoulder when she made it clear that was what she intended to do. “Am I your betrothed or your husband, now? You really need to get a handle on this before your mother comes over and tries introducing us to anyone else.”

“—is Kirkwall’s premier author. I don’t think the Viscount would take kindly to hearing you were making unfounded threats towards either of us, his esteemed guests.”

“I didn’t think the Viscount would take kindly to you leaving piles of bandit corpses in the streets either, and yet here we are…”

“You know, Hawke, I’m beginning to think our particular brand of humor is wasted on people in places like this.”

“I do have to agree.” It was only then, really, once teasing Aveline had (at least momentarily) lost its appeal that she realized the position they’d gotten themselves into…or, well, that she’d gotten them into.

It was maddening, really, how little thought it had taken for her to set her head on his shoulder; now that it was there, it was the only thing she could think about. How long was too long to stay like that? If she pulled back now, would it look odd? There was also the wicked voice in the back of her head pointing out oh-so-helpfully that she didn’t want to pull back, she didn’t want to sit up straight again, that if it was up to her, this would be a pleasant enough way to spend the rest of the day, and—

Despite the blasted heat, Hawke found herself scooting a bit closer against Varric once he’d taken it upon himself to drape his arm around her waist. He was so much better at this ridiculous charade than she was! Sometimes she had to remind herself it had been her idea in the first place.

Of course, it only made sense…he’d only agreed to parade around as her suitor-slash-betrothed-slash-husband-slash-whatever as a favor to her. It wasn’t as though he had to deal with that awful, cloying voice…and he certainly didn’t seem to be getting any of the same teasing from the rest of their merry band that she’d been enduring, so this was…well, it was probably the easiest thing in the world for him, really.

And it could’ve been the easiest thing in the world for her, too, had she not been so dead set on being an absolute idiot.

Before she could let her mind wander any farther down that thorny path (Maker knew she’d been doing enough of that lately), Hawke cleared her throat and heaved a sigh only pretending to be long-suffering. “Well,” she said, praying that a change in topic might return them to the easy back-and-forth they’d been using to pass the time before, “If not a political intrigue, then what?”

“Hmm?”

She waved her hand towards the people chatting and milling about, each seeming somehow more snobbish than the last. “We both know you’re writing something in your head right now, you’ve got that wrinkle between your eyebrows…”

“Don’t go pointing out my wrinkles in public, sweetheart. You know what that does to my fragile self-esteem.”

Hawke snorted a decidedly unladylike laugh. “I’m just curious! You said it yourself, this is about as dull as one of Sebastian’s lectures on the nuance of the Chant of Light. I can’t help wondering how in the world you’d turn something like this into anything workable, that’s all.”

He didn’t deny the accusation of writing in his head, she’d noticed; there was no use in it, of course, no bullshitting a bullshitter, but it was interesting nonetheless. There was a moment where he just sat there beside her, his fingers absently drumming a halfhearted rhythm against her side, and then, as though reading off a page and not simply reciting from his mind, he obliged. “When they’d first met, he had to admit he’d had her pegged as one of those scrappy young women not made for dresses. Watching her fight, it was easy enough to picture her stumbling and stiff in the confines of a gown, never quite knowing how to hold herself, but…as it turned out, he’d been wrong on that count, as he’d been wrong on so many others. She was more comfortable in her grimy armor than flouncy formalwear, to be sure—a fact that was immediately apparent to anyone who’d seen her on a job—but sitting there with her chin at a noble angle and her usual slouch straightened by the boning of her bodice, the illusion was nearly flawless. All that experience smuggling in her youth, he had to figure…once she found her stride, her camouflage was unmatched.” Then he paused, shrugged, and as though it had been nothing at all, added, “Something like that.”

Something like that. Something like that?! What was that? What was she supposed to do with any of that?!

In the wake of…whatever that had been…Hawke was utterly unable to move. She forced herself to do something, to acknowledge it somehow, but beyond a coy little titter of a laugh, found she didn’t trust her voice. Not just yet. Nonono.

Whether or not he was privy to the way her heart had taken to racing like a greased up nug on an icy lake, she couldn’t say, but the effect his low chuckle had on her was monumental all the same. “Too much?” he asked.

And before she could think on it too hard, she let her mouth take over. Yes, that had a nasty habit of getting her into trouble, but…she felt it a much safer option than expecting her brain to do the work. “Not enough,” she joked back, gathering every inch of her strength to finally sit up straight, shooting him a playful look. Her throat was tight as she realized how close they were even so, how his words were still dancing their way up and down the length of her spine like a caress, how easy it would be to tilt her head and—

“Were I you,” Aveline suddenly said, speaking quietly but insistently, “I think I’d find a way to look very, very unavailable for conversation right now.”

It wouldn’t’ve been right to say she was relieved, but the distraction definitely made it easier to come back to herself, and for that she was thankful. “What?” Hawke asked, “Why would we—” She glanced over her shoulder as subtly as she could, and the butterflies in her stomach promptly died, replaced by a hive of wasps someone had angrily shaken. “Oh Maker,” she swore, quickly pivoting herself on the bench so her back was to Aveline. “Mother’s bringing the de Launcets over here…is she possessed?!”

Varric scoffed. “Oh come on. You’re acting like they’re going to drag you off to be executed.”

“I’m sorry,” she hissed, again regretting not having a fan to hide her face behind, “Are you familiar with the de Launcets? I am. Wish I wasn’t. But I am. There’s no getting rid of them once they get started with their yammering, and I am absolutely not about to deal—”

“Running out of time,” Aveline muttered under her breath, managing to keep her face almost perfectly still in that creepy way so many of the Guard had.

Hawke’s eyebrows drew tightly together in agony. “All right, all right…I could…I could make myself vomit—”

“Not when you’re sitting next to me you won’t!”

“Seconded.”

She groaned, one hand moving up to clasp at the pendant of her necklace in what was clearly abject panic. “No, no, you’re right…that ham tasted like despair the first time ‘round, I’d hate to think of what it would taste like on the second go.”

“Hawke.”

“I could…oh! I could pretend to be stung by a bee!”

Obviously not understanding the gravity of the situation they were in, Varric just kept snickering. “And that would stop them from talking to you…how?”

“Well obviously I would also pretend to have a horrific reaction to the sting.”

“Ah. Of course. Obviously. How could I not guess that? The answer was so clear.”

“Whatever it is,” there was just a bit too much glee lurking beneath the surface of Aveline’s tone, “You’d best do it now…”

If Varric had any good ideas, he certainly wasn’t going to any great lengths to communicate them. Which meant, of course, it was up to her. So. Was hers a good idea? Doubtful. Extremely doubtful. But if she’d learned anything about living in Kirkwall, it was that an idea very rarely needed to be a good one. It just had to be effective. So. Was her idea an effective idea? Well, hell if she knew, because her idea had been to kiss him…meaning the sky could’ve torn open in that moment, sending demons tumbling to the ground like great, gangly raindrops and she probably wouldn’t’ve noticed.

There was no moment of tension, no shocked stiffening of his posture, none of the shit she would’ve expected; instead, Varric returned the kiss as though it had been his idea in the first place, pulling her flush against his chest, his lips insistent but soft, and when his fingers found her chin to tip it slightly (oh so slightly) towards him, there was the barest hint of his tongue against her lip and that was…well. That was something. Yes it was.

Yes it surely was.

It was maybe the third or fourth time that Aveline cleared her throat that Hawke actually heard her. “Congratulations,” she said, still with that note of humor caught in her sinuses, “It does appear you’ve warded them off. Imagine that.”

“No one wants to get tangled up in the love of the newly-betrothed, eh?” Varric joked as they pulled apart, and though she couldn’t bring herself to keep her gaze on him for more than a moment, Hawke couldn’t help but feel he looked nowhere near as disheveled as she felt. “Quick thinking, Haw—”

“Well!” The wasps had escaped her chest and filled her entire body, her fingers and toes and even her ears buzzing with a nervous energy she swore hadn’t been there a moment before. Once she saw the retreating backs of her mother and the de Launcets, she stood and straightened her dress, flashing them what she hoped was one of her trademark grins—the sort that managed to convey both ‘Good job, team!’ and ‘That wasn’t me, I swear it.’ “Now that that business is taken care of…I think I’m going to get myself another drink. Anyone else?”

“A member of the Guard can’t be seen drinking while protecting the Viscount, Hawke.”

“Then the Guard isn’t very fun at parties.” She shrugged a shoulder and let it drop, turning to Varric instead, unsure how she managed a feat like that without melting on the spot. “Drink?”

He seemed to think it over for a second longer than he needed to, but in the end he returned her shrug. “Sure, why not. I’ll drain Dumar’s wine cellar for him if that’s what he wants.”

“Fantastic!” she said much too enthusiastically, already turning on her heel. Just like that, she was off, making a beeline for the nearest serving tray, trying to calm her thoughts, her breathing, herself. They had to stay for at least another hour, maybe even two…she had to find some sense of normalcy, needed to get through the rest of the afternoon in one piece.

It wasn’t until she was looking over the fine selection of wines that she realized she’d been pressing two of her fingers to her lips, as though trying to pin down the memory of his kiss before it could flutter off on the wind.

“Shit,” she whispered against her hand, earning her a sour look from a nearby guest. “Shit.”

They’d been right. All of those idiots had been right.

She was in love with Varric.

[enby-hawke]

Chapter 4- What Good Can Come From Blood Magic?

Given and Bound

Read from the beginning

Words:7,139

Warnings: general violence,

Lucky could smell the fresh air clearing out the scent of spider corpses before he saw the light filtering from the cave mouth. The gush of wind whipped them, trailing back over the Dalish camp below. The flags of their aravels waved, bright red against the lush green forest. 

The group was still tense and quiet as they walked up the mountain path, worn with the paved stones that were carved straight into the mountain. As they climbed there lay a blue shimmering barrier up ahead. 

As the group approached it, Merrill turned around, stopping them. She was trembling, staring at the ground rather than at them, appearing nervous and timid. “Please stay back. I will open the way forward.”

“You heard the lady,” Varric immediately turned around, keeping a few steps back, and the group followed except for Hawke who stared, curious to see what she would do.

Merrill took a breath to steady herself before she took out a knife from her belt and raised her arm pointing the blade at herself. 

He widened his eyes in alarm, noticing some holes in her armor where lines healed of scabs were etched into her skin. 

Without hesitation or a cry of pain, Merrill sliced her forearm and let the blood gush out. The air cracked, causing Boof to yelp and the group to turn back in alarm. The blood came to life under the direction of her hand and she directed the flow at the barrier. The air around Merrill was cold enough to see breath. The wound seemed to flow freely as the blood mixed with the iron taste of magic that crashed against the blue barrier.

Cack! Cack! Cack! Little flows of light streamed through the cracks forming in the barrier. With one more push, it shattered into a million shards evaporating in the air as the bonds broke.

Sheepishly, the elf turned around tucking a strand of black hair behind her twitching ears.

But before she knew it Hawke was next to her, examining her quite closely with a gleam in his eye. “Glory Hole of Andraste that was cool!”

Merrill squeaked going red, her gaze suddenly unable to meet his. Lucky didn’t realize how close he was standing and took a good step back.  

The others were paling in horror behind Hawke, Carver in particular unable to look at Merrill but Hawke on the other hand was brimming with excitement. 

His hand glowed red with a special healing spell of his own that he placed on her knife wound, the flesh animating back together as he wove the strands of skin and vein back in place. He knew the sensation would be uncomfortable from experience but her eyes widened in wonder as she watched it. “That seemed to take a lot of blood. Are you dizzy?”

“A bit,” she admitted, looking uncomfortable with him all of a sudden. Lucky shifted nervously. Was it too intrusive to heal someone without permission? “But it’s not as bad as it looked. I have some enchantments and use magic that increases my natural blood flow.”

Hawke smacked his head, smearing some of Merrill’s blood into his hair. “Brilliant! Why didn’t I think of that!?”

“Hawke!” He turned around to see Aveline as red as a tomato, looking terrified and angry enough to punch someone. “How can you condone that? That was blood magic! That was irresponsible at best, evil at worst!”

He could see Merrill visibly flinch and he glared back. “Harsh, Aveline. You didn’t mind when I used blood magic to save you and your husband from that ogre.”

She flushed deeper if that was possible, her green eyes flashing in anger. “That was different. There was no need for-”

“We needed to get through.” Hawke walked away trying to end that conversation, but a flash of red hair whipped behind Aveline stalking after him.

“Shit,” Carver grimaced. 

Boof dashed from Merrill’s side back up to Lucky.

“We could have found a better way, a safer way,” Aveline hurried to meet Hawke’s pace, passing neat rows of graves that were nestled into the side of the mountain, covered by huge slabs of stone.

“It’s done. Let’s move on.”

“You don't get to decide when I'm done talking to you.”

“Yes, I can. I'm doing it right now.”

As the argument swelled, Boof barked, trying to shout it down but it just made it louder. 

Merrill’s eyes went wide and her lips started trembling, reaching out but her voice faltering. “I’m sorry-I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s not your fault. They’ve always been like this.”

She jumped to see Carver suddenly next to her, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You don’t understand,” Merrill arched her neck towards him, her gaze so intense Carver couldn’t meet it. “The Veil is very thin here. We mustn’t attract attention.”

The barking quieted to a guttural whine and they looked over to see Hawke crouched with Boof, smooshing his face rather than listening to the conversation he was forced into.

“You don't mean to bring a blood mage into city limits.”

“Why not?” At this point Hawke was baby talking, emphasizing every other word with a wet smack to his hound’s face. “There,” smooch, “are,” smooch, “hundreds,” smooch, “already.” Then he squished the extra skin Boof’s cheeks together so he was frowning just as deeply as Aveline. “She’ll fit right in won’t she, buddy.”

“Heeeung,” Boof whined, his eyes more focused on the altar, a powerful energy emanating from the source.

Aveline clenched her fist, looking ready to use it. “And I’m supposed to ignore the danger she poses to Kirkwall?”

Lucky knew he had to calm Aveline down, but blood magic was one of those no no subjects around her. Any reminder that he was maleficar at all was uncomfortable for her, but he couldn't change or deny the truth, so what else could he do but try to brush off the argument before it swelled into something unmanageable. 

Lucky could feel that the chill in the air had nothing to do with the weather. He tried to focus on his dog, keeping calm, like his Dad taught him, which was difficult with a woman as annoying as Aveline prodding him.

Then Varric cleared his throat, his eyes looking spooked, “Hey lovebirds? Mind putting off your spat until-”

But Aveline didn’t let him finish. The scowl on her face was sour enough for Varric to take a step back.

“We are NOT-” Crack! Whooooooor!

This time Hawke felt the shift, like the fall of a roller coaster, and his shoulders sagged. This was what he was hoping to avoid.

“Your anger has drawn the spirits,” Merrill drew her staff, panicked.

“Oh, great. Didn’t know that was a thing,” Varric muttered and quickly followed Carver drawing his weapon.

Boof crouched protectively in front of Hawke, growling, waiting for instructions. 

Hawke sighed, slowly rising to his feet, his hand reaching for his baton, clicking the button so it unsheathed into a long thin staff. “I told you to drop it,” causing Aveline to flash a glare.

Slam! Crack!

The heavy slabs of stone split open to reveal bodies of skeletons, jerking to life. The air immediately stank of musty decay. Some bodies seemed almost naked, only shreds of the dress they were buried in, but plenty were clad in ancient elven armor still sturdy enough to take hits. They had swords and shields and bows still enchanted to be sharp even after millenia of disuse.

“Boof round them up,” Hawke ordered.

The dog darted, kicking rocks as he bayed, calling the skeletons to him. Behind Hawke focused a heroic aura, strengthening himself and those around him with a healthy dose of magic.

Thwing! An archer skeleton took aim and Varric shattered its skull with a glowing bolt. It fell to the ground, but started to get up without its head. 

Another sprinting skeleton with daggers was quickly thrown back by a heavy stone called by Merrill. 

Carver rushed forward, lopping the shield arm of another skeleton.

A headless archer skeleton drew itself slowly up, its bones clattering and took aim once more at Varric’s unguarded head only for Boof to pounce and shove it over. 

Varric nodded at the dog appreciatively, his eyebrows raising as he surveyed the field of skeletons. “How do you kill something that’s already dead?”

“Something more powerful is sustaining them!” Merrill cried, retreating a few steps and then plunged her staff in the ground, drawing vines from it that entangled the skeletons, slowing their tracks and making it easier for the other warriors to pick them off. 

Aveline reluctantly joined the fray, each thrust of her sword and bash of her shield extra ferocious and Hawke had an inkling about who she wished she was hitting.

It was either a mage or a horror but from Hawke’s detect life spell there was nothing hidden behind the crypts. He focused the spell, touching each speck of dust and bug and blade of grass until he met the altar and felt a lurch. There was a twist of dark energy floating and he followed his eyes upwards to see an Arcane Horror in lavish green ceremonial robes readying a spell at them.

Hawke had only seconds to react. He formed a barrier that caught Varric and Merrill right before the blast hit them, scattering them all across the field. Hawke hit the side of a gravestone, his clothes smoking from the light as the barrier light cracked and faded. He was dizzy, jostled, his shoulder popped from a hard landing. He moved his head in time for an arrow to miss, catching some strands of hair. He shook himself, suddenly awake. His hand shot out a spell before he could think, ice streaming catching the next arrow where it fell to the ground with a crash. The ice kept going until it caught the archer, freezing it solid. 

Boof bayed, bouncing off the skeleton so it shattered into dozens of pieces.

The hound dashed up, snuffling in worry, but Hawke pushed him away. “I’m fine, Boof. Keep the others safe.”

Merrill and Varric were back to back, keeping their distance from the skeletons as they picked off weaklings.

He turned to see Aveline and Carver flanking the horror on each side. The horror kept its distance in the air, hovering as it tried to break their defense with magic. 

Hawke threw a chain lightning connecting the skeletons, the arcs pulling them closer to each other to make easier targets. 

Some of the skeletons lifted from the ground from the force and when they collapsed, Merrill stabbed her staff, vines sprouting from them to tie them down and ensnare them so they couldn’t move while Varric shot off sword arms and cracked skulls with his bolts.

Boof grabbed a shinbone of one archer and dragged it off, breaking off its leg, herding another sword-wielding skeleton closer to Aveline like he was trained to so she could cut the skeleton’s head off.

Carver kept his attention on the Arcane Horror, knowing it was the real enemy. He tried hard to keep the Horror’s focus but it kept teleporting out of reach, avoiding his more lethal attacks.

Suddenly it appeared above the altar, rising into the air, as the sky swirled around it.

“Aveline! Carver! Get out! It’s called a tempest!” Hawke cried. 

As if in response the clouds cracked with lightning, the horror, charged up with electric arcs building in its hands. 

Aveline dashed out, but Carver raised one hand up in half-prayer and closed his eyes, concentrating.

The arcs of lightning began to connect from the sky to the horror’s hands and Carver was right in the path. 

“Carver, what are you doing?” Hawke cried out as he froze another attacking skeleton in place. There were still so many in his path.

“I can dispel it!” Carver shouted as he began to glow blue and bright.

“Carver N-”

But the lightning arced into both of the Horror’s hands and charged at Carver. Carver released his dispel, shooting out the bright blue light towards the lightning which dissipated it into a glittering mist. 

The mist continued to creep up, erasing the lightning into sparks of dust until it reached the Horror. The creature faltered in the air but Carver’s power was running out and the next arc of lightning shot from the sky and raced back towards Carver.

Hawke stepped halfway into the Fade, dashing through bodies in the field in a blink of an eye and pushed himself in front of Carver. He caught the lightning with his staff and redirected the stream with his hand into incoming enemies, digging into his blood to keep up the effort.

Carver stood there stupefied, as the static in the air made his hair rise.

“It’s reforming the tempest. Hurry and retreat.”

Carver took an unconscious step back, his eyes on the lightning arcing wildly in Hawke’s hands. “What about you?”

Hawke turned his head and grinned. “I’m nuking it.”

Carver took one step then another and then started running, grabbing Merrill’s hand as he passed the others with a frightened look on his face. “Everyone get back! My brother’s doing something stupid!”

The Arcane Horror kept directing strong arcs of lightning at Hawke but he pulled the energy apart so the arcs in his hands started to deteriorate into red dust that shimmered in the air, trailing up and creating a cloud. Blood gushed from his head wound as he fed it into the spell, helping him keep control and the magic from detonating early. “Merrill,” Hawke called out. “I need the strongest barrier you can make.”

Most of the skeletons were petrified or tangled in vines by now, writhing their severed limbs. 

Merrill popped up from behind a gravestone and said, “Alright, but I’m not the best at them.”

“I trust you!” The shimmer was all over the Horror now and it cried out in frustration, purple arcs sparking the mist, but Hawke held the magic dormant with his will.

Merrill closed her eyes, drawing a circle with her staff. 

A blue glyph lit up under Hawke and he could feel the encasement of cool magic engulf his skin. He trembled all the way down to his legs in effort, his hands burning and blistering with the overflow of magic wanting to burst apart at his fingers.

His blood was burning, his vitality sapping and he gritted his teeth as dizziness threatened to overtake him. He knew he could hold only a few seconds longer. His vision began to get spotty as his grip faltered. Finally the barrier was finished and Hawke let go, the effect of the lightning licking the corrosive powder instant.

The explosion rocked the mountain, his barrier cracking instantly as he was thrown back. The sound deafened Hawke temporarily as his ears made a ringing whine as he flew through the air. The barrier shattered against the wall as he hit the back of his head hard, and then promptly passed out.

At first all he saw was blackness and he felt like he was floating. Then a memory started to form, speck by speck around him. The face of his mother was tear streaked, still bloody from holding Bethany. 

So it was this dream again.

She grabbed the sides of his face, her dark eyes boring into him. Even in memory he could not meet his Mother’s gaze.

“You can’t go through with this.”

Why now? Why place this doubt when he was already here?

He took his Mother’s hands from his head and handed them back to her. “Mom, it’s done.”

His Mother exploded like he knew she would. “No! Bethany is with the Maker now.” She grabbed him, as if he would disappear if she let go. “I can’t lose two children.”

Her grip was so tight that he felt like he couldn’t breathe. And then he realized it was because he couldn’t breathe. Carver was crushing him to his chest, while Boof was snuffling his head with panicked kisses.

As Hawke coughed and groaned, trying to push Carver off, Carver shook him and crushed him into one more hug. “You idiot!”

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow,” Hawke groaned, still limp and dizzy.

“What were you thinking using that spell?”

“I was thinking that’d be dope if I could pull it off.” 

For that Carver smacked him in the back of the head.

“Ow! Hey, I might have a concussion.”

“I’ll give you another one if you do that again!”

“Oh c’mon that was awesome. Right Varric?” he turned to see the dwarf busy writing something in a notebook about the size of a pocket.

“Awesome that I’m alive,” Varric chuckled, not looking up. He seemed to be distracted by the thought that had caught hold of him.

“Oh c’mon, Merrill?” Hawke looked around for the elf to see that she was kneeling in front of the corpse of the Arcane Horror, in prayer. 

From the waist up the torso was completely missing, blackened and charred, wafting the air with the nauseating taste of a putrid skin. She turned just her head towards him, and he could see a streak of a tear run down her cheek.

“Merrill?” Hawke repeated, pushing himself upright with some difficulty. 

Carver and Boof had already abandoned him, rushing to see if they could be of aid.

“Emma ir abelas*,” she apologized with a shaky voice, her face red with anguish. “Forgive me for disturbing your rest. May Falon’din carry your souls to the Beyond.”

Hawke stopped in his tracks, looking over at Aveline who avoided his gaze, but he didn’t need blood magic to tell they were feeling the same guilt. They both slowly approached followed by an awkward Varric.

Boof pushed his head into Merrill’s lap letting her cry on him, while Carver hovered, his lips in a thin line.

Hawke was kicking himself. He forgot. These weren’t just random skeletons. These were Merrill’s people, and they had just majorly desecrated their graves. He looked at all the damage he caused. Reckless. Stupid. How could he possibly make this up to her?

“We’ll rebury them,” Hawke offered, wanting to put a hand on her shoulder, but decided against it.

Merrill stopped crying for a second, sniffling, but she didn’t look at him. After all he’d done he was sure she hated him now. “Thank you, but it will be more dangerous if we’re here after dark.”

“We can handle-” Hawke started to protest but to his surprise Merrill’s head snapped up at him.

“No,” her voice was so stern it made him swallow, her meadow gaze fierce with unspoken fury that even made her jump. She quickly looked away, speaking softer. “You are kind, but my clan knows the proper rites.” She petted Boof’s head fondly before rising up to her full height, wiping her face with her palms before she expelled a jittery breath. “We should not keep Asha'bellanar waiting any longer.” She then offered her hand towards Hawke. “Follow me.”

Hawke found himself staring at her hand, unsure, and gingerly took it. His hand wasn’t much bigger than hers, but they were just as calloused and strong. He could feel someone glaring and glanced behind him to see Carver. The unbidden heat rose in his cheeks faster, making him go a few shades browner.

She led him towards the altar, the heavy feeling sinking in his chest, but the warmth of Merrill’s hand comforting. 

Boof followed just behind, his ears low and his eyes darting. As they stepped up on the platform, the braziers on both sides of the altar lit up with green fire, causing Hawke to jump.

“It’s alright,” Merrill said soothingly, and continued to lead him to the center. “It’s just veilfire. She knows you're here.”

Hawke warily eyed the green dancing flames as it whispered, soft and murmuring. He tried to concentrate on what it was saying, but the voices often overlapped, and he wasn’t even sure if any of them were speaking Common.

Merrill let go of his hand, drawing her staff. “Place the amulet in the bowl. Then I can begin.”

Hawke reached for the chain around his neck, the amulet strangely heavier. As he walked up to the altar, the hair on his neck started to stand. He looked into the golden bowl, engraved with Elvish writing, to find it filled with water. Or something that at least looked like water. He held the chain over the bowl and caught his distorted reflection in the ruby before dropping it in with a plunk. As the amulet sank to the bottom, Merrill spoke an incantation.

“Hahren na melana sahlin. Emma ir abelas. Souver’inan isala hamin. Vhenan him dor’felas.”  

Merrill’s words seemed to resonate and the veilfire began to dance wildly. The amulet rose, dripping with water, the ruby glowing with a yellow light. The light from the amulet separated into an orb that grew. One wing formed from the orb and then another, curling over it protectively as it swelled into a torso. From that it sprung a blobbish head and then angling limbs. The light began to grow more solid, the head growing horns, the limbs sprouting talons that jutted out and shaped back into daintier claws. 

The figure of light stepped upon the altar, a sound heavy and solid, and Hawke took another step back, feeling that aura that visited his nightmares, but somehow in person it felt so much worse.

He watched as the figure took one more heavy step forward off the altar, and the light faded.

Her battledress was as red as blood, ripped and studded, her skin only a few shades lighter than his but looking both ancient and ageless, eerily beautiful. Her hair was fastened into horns, wrapped in red ribbons making her tower over him. 

He made sure to meet her gaze, glowing yellow more animal-like than human. Her lips, purple as a bruise, twisted into a predatory smirk.

“And here we are, at last.” Her voice had an ancient ring that couldn’t hide amusement.

“Holy shit.” Varric’s jaw dropped like he couldn’t quite pick it up off the floor. Lucky could see the tremble he was concealing in his hands. He couldn’t blame him. The witch had that effect on people.

Flemeth laughed, and Lucky unconsciously shivered at the chill that violently took him. The sound was not inviting and his legs buckled, instinctively wanting to run. But the witch turned her powerful gaze from him to Varric, seeming amused by her unexpected guest.

“There is nothing holy about me, creature of stone.”

“And the urge to shit myself just became very real,” Varric muttered in a joke that sounded too close to the truth. 

Merrill had stepped forward, her staff in both hands as she kneeled low to Flemeth. “Andaran Atish’an, Asha'bellanar.”

Flemeth’s eyes slid down to Merrill. “One of the people. So young and bright. But do you know who I am beyond that title?”

Merrill shook her head, her many braids swaying. “Only a little.”

Flemeth knelt down and took Merrill’s chin forcing her to look in her eyes. Merrill’s eyes widened to find that her gaze was actually kind and almost sad. “Then stand tall and proud, child,” she led Merrill up by her chin. “Do not kneel to me or anyone.” She patted Merrill’s cheek, before she dropped her hands, the cruelness returning to her eyes as she turned back to Hawke who was staring her down. “So, you’ve finally made your choice.”

Hawke lifted up his chin defiantly. “I want to see my sister first.”

Flemeth chuckled as if he had told her a joke. “So little trust.” Her fingers dragged along the amulet’s gem, glinting eerily in the veilfire. “Planning to spirit her away from under me?”

He scoffed, crossed his arms, and didn’t meet her gaze. “Lots of charlatans claim to bring back the dead. Maybe it’s not even possible.”

“And you would be right,” Flemeth nodded.

“Then what am I doing here!?” The anger flashed in Hawke before he could bite it down. Merrill flinched, taking an unconscious step back. 

Boof was now completely behind Hawke, his tail between his legs, whimpering.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Flemeth smiled, a little too wide and sharp to be human. “Your sister is alive.” She then dropped her eyes to her talons, the points seeming to extend as she flexed. “I have her but she will remain where she is unless our pact is completed.”

Hawke stepped forward, trying to steady his temper, but his fists were clenching. “So you’re holding her hostage?”

Flemeth barked out a short laugh. “As if I would have needed to.” She captured him in her predatory stare once more. “But you misunderstand. She cannot be awakened until your soul is tributed. If spells could be powered from nothing then anything would be possible.” She then shrugged her shoulders and began to walk away from the altar. “But if you’ve changed your mind it can’t be helped. You’ve already done what is needed. I won’t force the issue.”

She walked past Hawke and he reached out to grab her, but stopped just shy of touching her. “Wait!” He panicked, knowing that Flemeth was toying with him and yet he didn’t know what to do but bow, deeply like Merrill did before, his nose almost touching the ground as he got on his hands and knees. His face burned with the humiliation but she stopped, looking pleased as she gazed down at him. “Forgive my poor manners. I’m just…” he fumbled for the words as his temper and panic roiled against him. “Eager…to see Bethany again.”

Flemeth couldn’t keep the hum out of her throat. “You’re lucky I’m used to such rudeness from my daughter. I will be generous. Just this once.”

Hawke pulled himself off the ground, but didn’t dare look up because he knew it would be a glare and he couldn’t afford to piss off the Witch anymore. Not before getting Bethany.

Flemeth stayed where she was, the others unconsciously lining up on either side of her trying to give her a wide berth. She turned back to Merrill, who squeaked under the power of her gaze. “Are you ready to re-tie this mortal’s threads?”

Merrill bowed only her head this time. “I will not fail.” She stepped forward, guiding Hawke to a slab of stone decorated by an elven rune. “Do not move from this spot until it is over,” she explained and took her place at the rune across from him. 

When he had looked over at Flemeth she was on her own platform, everything in place.

“Are you ready?” Merrill asked him.

He nodded. "Let's get this over with."

Merrill tapped her staff causing the veilfire to shoot into the sky, swirling the clouds into a green sea crashing against the orange of the setting sun. Hawke stared at the clouds, feeling the shift, the pull of enormous energy filtering from the fire.

 He had only felt so much raw power in the Fade itself and when he glanced back at Merrill she was glowing green, her eyes just flashes of light. When she spoke, her words echoed in the sky as if she was calling to it. 

“Enas, lanalin elithastaan!” 

Threads of blue light shot from the veilfire and attached to Merrill’s staff holding it fast. 

“Inana dara hasama siya nuvenan.” 

The blue threads that creaked against Merrill’s staff suddenly shot into Hawke’s chest. He could feel the pull in his heart and beyond it, tethering to him as it twined into his body, the feeling like vines snaking through his veins and rooting into his bones.

Then Merrill tapped her staff. “Ver ahn is lasem-“ The string between Hawke’s heart and Merrill’s staff broke instantly turning red.

“Augh!” Hawke dropped to his knees, feeling like his whole being was unraveling, every memory, every thought, every urge unfurling into a pile of strings being cut and pulled apart and he started to lose a sense of who he was as the agony overtook him. His chest was red and glowing, light dripping out of him like globs of blood that splattered on the surface of the stone, also glowing with light. 

Boof yelped, trying to get to his packleader but it seemed on instinct he knew not to touch Hawke even as he convulsed. 

He found himself struggling to breathe as he tried to close the nonexistent wound on his chest, but no soothing magic came to his aid.

“Lucky!” Carver called out, rushing to aid his brother but he was stopped by a quick glare from Flemeth.

“Sul’emahn lasem kailangan.”

Flemeth raised her own hand, her platform glowing with a dark light. The light gathered in her hand and shot out to Hawke’s chest holding it fast, turning the red energy into a dark purple. 

He screamed until he was hoarse, the light shooting out of his mouth and eyes, and he felt like he was being burned within and without as he was fused with the light. 

“Enan kurbata,” Merrill’s voice echoed across the mountain into the green sea sky. Flemeth pulled the string on Hawke’s chest. “Enaan kapalan soronaan!” The light suddenly sealed inside his chest, closing up, the pillars of green veilfire flashing until they collapsed, the sky growing calm and lax.

Suddenly Boof was in Hawke’s face, licking and snuffling him. 

Hawke was still shaking, even the memory of the pain so sharp he couldn’t move even as Boof was shoving himself in his lap. He felt stronger arms around him, helping him up and he warily looked up to see it was Carver, more worried than he’d ever seen him.

“Our sister,” Hawke still managed a glare at Flemeth though he still felt dizzy and weak. Carver squeezed his shoulder in warning.

Flemeth tutted impatiently. “Very well. Bring out your sister’s body.”

The brothers froze, looking at each other in panic.

“What for?” Hawke asked, already dreading the answer.

“Where else am I going to put her soul?”

Carver’s eyes darted back to Flemeth, the remorse in them. “But we cremated her.”

Flemeth threw her head back cackling, the sound causing a surge of fury to well up in Hawke. “Oh, this is delicious.” She then took a gleeful gaze at Aveline and Varric who shrunk under her sudden attention. “And I’m guessing these extra bodies are not to serve as her vessel.”

Hawke stepped forward, shaking from his hands to his shoulders. “What about my body? I’ll be her vessel.”

Carver gawked at his brother, about to protest, but Flemeth’s amused laughter cut him off. “I’m afraid you are already spoken for.” That’s when Flemeth gestured to the amulet around her neck, the veilfire making it look hazy and foreboding. “But don’t worry she is quite safe where she is,” she said, tapping the gem. “But I’m afraid with no vessel here she will stay.”

The horror of Flemeth’s words dawned on the party and all eyes turned to the brothers who both looked unable to contain their fury. Carver was grabbing Hawke and Hawke was grabbing Carver, as if they were both trying to hold the other back. 

Even Boof had taken to growling as he turned his eyes at Flemeth, who seemed to take even more delight in their helplessness. 

“But don’t take this so hard. She’ll never die of hunger, thirst, or age. A small price to pay for immortality.” 

Hawke’s hand twitched. 

Flemeth smiled wider. “Honestly, she’s rather lucky.”

That did it. Like a fuse going off, Hawke drew his gun and fired right at her head. “You bitch! This wasn’t the deal!”

Hawke lunged, Boof’s hacking barks right behind him as he followed, but Flemeth raised one finger and Boof was stopped in his tracks by a barrier of light that froze him mid-air. Hawke froze too, but by no extra spell. His limbs locked tight and he could not move a muscle. He gawked in horror at Flemeth who plucked the frozen bullet from the air and flicked it away like a fly. 

She glared at Hawke, the amusement gone. 

“Do you misunderstand what being bound means?”

Suddenly his locked arm started moving but he wasn’t controlling it, more like his arms were attached to strings that he could feel being pulled so his aim was locked onto Boof’s head. He yanked back, but his muscles stayed unresponsive, the strings refusing to pull loose. “Wait!” he shouted, his hand trembling against his gun.

“You make so many demands!” she growled.

He saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye where Carver was suddenly kneeling. “Please, my brother is an idiot, but don’t take it out on Boof.”

“Oh a volunteer?” she crooned, and with no motion of her own, Hawke suddenly shifted his aim, swiveling his aim at Carver’s head but Aveline was already pushing Carver away from the barrel’s path.

“No!” her eyes stayed locked on Flemeth, full of hate and fear. “He’s just a boy. If you must take someone, take me.”

The tears spilled out of Lucky’s eyes as he pressed the gun to Aveline’s throat. Every muscle burned with effort as he tried to push back against the strings, but he felt like a doll. No matter how strongly he pushed, he couldn’t gain an inch. He panicked as his finger moved for the trigger. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! It won’t happen again.”

His body stopped moving, his finger barely hovering. Flemeth smirked malevolently. “No. It won’t.”

He closed his eyes as his finger squeezed.

BANG! The kick of the gun pushed his hand back and his heart stabbed in agony. He killed her. He couldn’t stop himself. Carver warned him. How could he have been so stupid trying to take on the Witch of the Wilds? 

Flemeth’s cruel laughter echoed across the mountain and when Hawke had opened his eyes to glare he saw that his aim was altered, missing Aveline by inches.

Suddenly Hawke collapsed, the strings cut, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but gasp in relief. The gun dropped with a thud and he looked at both of his hands as they shook violently. Before he could get a sense of what just happened Flemeth was suddenly behind him, dangling the amulet around his neck with a cold expression. “Perhaps this is punishment enough.”

As soon as the amulet touched Hawke, his vision blackened and he was overwhelmed with an avalanche of pain and confusion. He clutched his stomach, his insides suddenly having a sense of being crushed and he struggled to breathe through the darkness. The pain was so debilitating it was all he could do to stay conscious. He opened his eyes weakly, but suddenly he was no longer on Sundermount but somewhere just as sinister.

The West Hill Highway. More specifically the place where Bethany died. He blinked, turning his head trying to get a clear view of which direction to go but the highway was empty of the fire that scorched along the rolling hills, and though his memory remembered the slick of darkspawn corpses strewn about, he was alone. But he could hear something over his ragged breathing. Crying. Specifically Bethany crying.

“M-maker! Make it stop!”

She was close. He tried to shoot up to his feet but the agony of whatever spell Flemeth put him under made him collapse under his own weight and he coughed violently. Still his only thoughts were of Bethany. She was trapped here and he needed to get her out. But through his tear-blinded vision he couldn’t see her. Was she hiding in the hills? But she sounded closer. So much closer.

“Bethany!” he called out through a ragged gasp. Move! He urged his body.

He could feel a swell of hope from her somehow, giving him a burst of energy as he struggled to sit himself upright.

“L-lucky?” he could hear her call out. “Where are you?”

Before he could respond another voice cut him off. “Lucky, are you ok?”

He could feel Bethany’s heart take comfort at the sound. “Carver’s here too?” He could hear her break down in relieved sobs.

“Beth, tell me where you are. I’ll find you,” Hawke breathed out raggedly. He tried to sound strong but he felt like he was on the verge of passing out. What did the Witch do to him?

She sniffled. “I d-don’t know.” His eyes darted, trying to find her voice but he saw nothing.

“This is not a place, but Bethany’s mindscape,” a malevolent voice sounded behind him. He looked to see Flemeth standing over his broken body, taking pleasure in the way he writhed. “You are experiencing her memories, her pain.”

“But where is she?” he hissed, wanting nothing more than to take a blade and shove it deep into the Witch’s heart.

She smirked. “You’re quite dull.” She kneeled down looking into his eyes but with a kindness she never reserved for him before. “Bethany. Child. This pain is not real. You need not hold onto it.” She reached out her hand as if to help him up.

“The Witch of the Wilds?” Bethany’s voice was so panicked he could feel it vibrating in him like a plucked string. 

To his surprise he bolted back without thinking, raising his fist on his own. Bethany’s voice cried out, his mouth forming her words. “Stay away!”

His arm raised and someone called a fire to the palm of his hand using his magic. No! He couldn’t risk raising his hands to Flemeth again and yet he couldn’t quench the flames, the intrusive presence overriding him. But he might as well have willed it. His panic was like a runway stallion, so thick, it coated his throat.

But like before his wrist held fast in invisible strings, and the flame died out with no mana to sustain it. 

Flemeth tsked her tongue, looking disappointed. “Tch! You Hawkes are so stubborn. Very well.”

The strings pulled Hawke’s hand, moving it into a vice-like grip. His vision went spotty, going white as he was pulled again.

This time instead of falling, he felt like he was floating in a void. Panic that wasn’t his, roiled in his chest and then he realized he could still feel Bethany, could feel her thoughts racing, trying to put together a sense of what happened. He could feel her flailing and instinctively he reached out, trying to comfort her. 

She seemed to latch onto his presence as color started to pierce through the white. 

He could see the impression of bodies, the intense pain fading like a bad memory and he blinked rapidly to see Carver and Merrill’s worried faces staring over him.

He realized he was still hunched over, clutching his stomach, but the crushing pain was gone, his breathing easier. He looked at Flemeth, confused and still unclear of what just happened to him when he saw her. Bethany.

She was just like he remembered her, except she was a ghost, a mirage. Flemeth held up her hand, glowing red with some magic and he realized there was a light shooting from him. Well not him exactly, the amulet. It coated Bethany in a haunting red color, so transparent she looked like the wind would blow her away, her freckles glowing in spots of light, her eyes so golden they burned like embers. She was staring at her own trembling see-through hands in confusion.

“I’ve removed the memory of her body’s demise. It may be wise not to trigger the memory until Bethany has more self-control,“ Flemeth said looking bored.

“Body’s…demise?” Bethany’s hands dropped as she stared in horror at her older brother. “Lucky, what did you do?”

“Nothing I wouldn’t do again,” Hawke sniffed sharply. He knew full well that tears were spilling from his cheeks but he didn’t care who saw. She was here. He could feel her heart thrumming as his own. He could taste her emotions, and he could recognize her sensing him too, their senses a swirling cocktail overloading him. It was undeniably Bethany. He recognized that presence and at once he felt a scar deep in his heart heal over as he drank in the reality.

Carver reached out to Bethany, placing a shaky hand on her shoulder but it phased through her.

Bethany gasped in horror and Carver pulled himself back like he was burned.

“She is just a projection,” Flemeth explained. “I’m afraid unless you learn a few new spells, communication from now on will be restricted to whoever wears the amulet.”

“Will you teach me?” Hawke asked.

“Ha!” Flemeth guffawed. “I see you haven’t lost your nerve.” Then she closed her fist, and Bethany collapsed into a pillar of light.

Hawke could feel Bethany reorienting inside his head, reeling into his senses. He could feel her dizziness and steeled himself, and somehow she latched on, until his senses were also hers. His heart continued to beat as rapidly as Bethany’s thoughts she swirled into a panic attack. 

Her questions came so fast he could barely catch them all. 

“Lucky, tell me this isn’t true. I didn’t die. I’m not dead.”

But he couldn’t answer her. It was all he could do to stay present. Boof pushed towards him and he clutched on, shaking, trying to get some semblance of sanity but he felt him being pulled along in the rush of Bethany’s turbulent emotions. A dark overwhelming presence pushed his head upwards and he could see Flemeth staring cruelly down at him through his bleary vision.

“Now I have work to do and so do you.” Her yellow gaze sharpened into a glare that stripped him hollow. She grabbed his chin sternly, the cold metal biting and unforgiving, making him shiver. “Make better choices, young one, or the fate awaiting you will not be a kind one.”

Flemeth released him and he collapsed into himself again as the witch turned her gaze from Hawke to Merrill, her eyes already much kinder. “Tell your Keeper she is released. For now. You’ve done well.”

Merrill squeaked, bowing her head low but stopped herself from kneeling. “Ma Serannas.”

“And child.” Merrill looked up from her bow to meet Flemeth’s gaze once more. Flemeth let her eyes drop disdainfully on Hawke, still trembling over his dog who whined sympathetically as he cuddled him. “Be careful who you follow into the dark.”

Flemeth walked past Aveline and Varric who backed away from her. She walked into the middle of the cemetery where she began to glow yellow, her body melting into light. She collapsed on all four limbs, her clawed hands growing into fierce talons, her flowing dress into a waving tail, her neck elongating, growing long spikes. From her shoulders sprouted two massive wings and her styled ribboned hair snarling into four black wicked horns. She screeched, her piercing cry echoing over the mountain and she took to the air with three wind-inducing wingbeats taking off in direction of the setting sun.

Silence crept over the graveyard except for Boof’s soft whine.

Varric scratched the back of his head, not sure what would be appropriate to say right now. “Well….shit.”

.

Hahren na melana sahlin. Emma ir abelas. Souver’inan isala hamin. Vhenan him dor’felas - Elder your time has come. I am sorry. Weary eyes to need, to lust, to desperately desire, to rest. Your heart has become grey and slow. In waking sleep is freedom

Enas, lanalin elithastaan. Inana dara hasama siya nuvenan. Ver ahn is lasem. Sul’emahn lasem kailangan. Enan kurbata enaan kapalan soronaan.- Here, Mother of Choice, watch over the bound as he makes his wish. Take what is given and give what is needed. As a witness, I tie your threads together into one.

Emma ir abelas*- I’m sorry

Ma Serannas- I thank you

[jayxscripta]

The Mahaigner - Chapter One

A part of her couldn’t believe she was doing this. Barely a month of running and she was already giving in. Not that she had been given much of a choice.

Madeline reflected as she walked, hands shoved into her jacket. It was chilly, low forties, and one of those times when the ground wasn’t dry—just like any other November day in London. The red bus still went around the city, the London Eye went into the sky, and people passed her on the street with a decided indifference. Because here she was normal.

London was just as she had left it, but somehow it didn’t quite feel like the safe haven it used to. England might have been her childhood, but New York was her home. And if she had had a choice, she wouldn’t have left New York. But after what happened, she knew she wasn’t safe there, and where better to go than the place she had been born? The problem was, she was still on edge, because she was running. And every day, it felt more and more like she was running from some part of herself.

Not anymore.

That day, while she was working her shift at a bookstore, her cell phone rang. Which normally wouldn’t have been a big deal, if it weren’t for the fact that she had since changed her number and had yet to give the new one out to anybody. She had recognized the voice on the other end, and while every fiber of her being was against what he was saying, she was tired of always looking over her shoulder.

Madeline glanced at the address on the side of the building and hesitated at the doorway. This was it. She had the distinct feeling that if she went through that door, she wouldn’t be able to walk out as the same person.

She glanced at her companion. “What do you think, Astrid?” she asked, stroking the dog’s soft head. “Huh?”

She let out a quiet boof, her tail wagging slightly. Madeline knew what that meant—Astrid’s version of “don’t worry, I’m here.”

“Then I have nothing to worry about,” Madeline continued confidently, rapping sharply on the imposing double doors. She waited for almost a minute, long enough for the echo of her knocks to fade away, but nobody opened the door. She was just turning away from the door when it slowly creaked open.

Madeline approached cautiously. There was nobody standing behind the door, no good reason for it to have swung open like that. She poked her head around the side of the doorframe as Astrid brushed past her leg and slipped into the house, nose in the air.

The house was tall, with a circular window positioned above the giant door. The floors were carpeted deep red and the walls were a dark wood, trimmed with something that might be gold. The ceilings were high, the halls accented with burning candles, and the ambience Oriental. The whole place looked worthy of a paranormal investigation, but what intrigued her most was how ancient it felt. As if somebody had ripped it straight out of a history book.

There was a whir of wind and a short bark from Astrid. That’s when the door slammed shut behind them with a thud.

“I figured teleporting you wouldn’t be a good idea. Too disconcerting.”

She stumbled back, whirling around to greet the man who had called her here, who was standing only a few feet away. How he got there without her noticing, she wasn’t sure. “Yeah, well, mission failed,” she gasped out, eyes searching for something to defend herself with, just in case. Astrid growled.

The man raised his hands. “Call off your dog,” he commented drily, nodding to Astrid and her glaring, fixed gaze. “Then we can talk.”

“Right,” Madeline scoffed, “what’s your name?” It would be nice to put a name to the face that had haunted her for almost a month.

Still eyeing her dog cautiously, he answered quickly. “My name is Dr. Stephen Strange. And I am trying to help you.”

“Hasn’t really seemed like it,” she shot back.

“I know you don’t know how to control it, because if you did you would use it against me now—” Dr. Strange continued on as if he hadn’t heard her.

“Damn right,” she muttered.

“—And I swear, all I want is to help you understand and control it,” he said earnestly, and as much as she didn’t want to, a part of Madeline believed him. He actually sounded sincere, even though he seemed more interested in Astrid’s bared teeth.

Lips pursed, she nodded slowly. “Astrid, heel.” She could see the relief in the doctor’s eyes when the dog backed away and rejoined her master at her side.

“Alright, let’s get down to business. Do you like tea?”

In the blink of an eye, Madeline was no longer standing in the entry hall of that great house. She wasn’t even standing anymore, rather sitting in a comfortable chair, teacup in hand, with a bewildered Astrid at her side. Madeline felt something similar to seasickness wash over her, and the tea in her cup was sloshing around, dangerously close to spilling over the edge.

“I told you it was disconcerting,” Dr. Strange said, looking a little too amused for her liking.

She attempted to sip her tea and scowled when it splashed over the edge and onto her jeans. Her host, who was sitting directly across from her, seemed indifferent. “Don’t you like tea?”

“Yes, I do like tea,” she responded wryly, “just not when it’s on my clothes.”

“As I was saying,” Doctor Strange continued, ignoring her jab, “I protect the world from mystical threats, and your little incident in New York qualified as one.”

Madeline paused mid sip, and promptly set her teacup onto a nearby table. “Are you calling me a ‘mystical threat’?”

“Not… exactly,” he hesitated, leaning forwards in his chair. “Miss Boudreaux, if my assumption is correct, then you haven’t used your powers since the incident, because you don’t know how. But there are other forces at play here. That’s why it was imperative you come here tonight.”

“Other forces?” she questioned, sinking down into her chair. Her hand slid over the edge of the armrest, and she felt the warm moisture of Astrid’s tongue as the dog licked her hand. Madeline quickly wiped it on the side of her jeans. “What kind of other forces?”

“The Sokovia Accords,” he said, as if it were obvious, “the United Nations keeps a record of every enhanced individual, so when a new one pops up, they’re very interested in finding out who that person is.”

“And you work for them?” Madeline questioned, feeling her stomach drop. The experience had been a frightening one, and she couldn’t blame herself for running, but hindsight was 20/20. Running was far more nerve-wracking now that she knew she had been running from the United Nations, of all things.

Dr. Strange huffed in an amused and somewhat offended way. “Definitely not,” he said, “they don’t know I exist. If they did, they’d probably arrest me too. I tracked you here, do you think I wouldn’t notice if someone else was following you?”

“Someone else was following me?”

“To put it bluntly, yes. You’re not very observant.”

“Lovely,” she muttered, “now that you’ve found me, what’s next?”

“Well, I’d suppose that we attempt to discover what doescause your powers, seeing as you can’t use them at will,” he paused, looking suddenly suspicious, “that is true, isn’t it? You can’t control them?”

“No, I can’t,” she responded, unsure whether she should be relieved or worried by that fact. “But what good will finding the cause of them be? I thought I wasn’t supposed to use them?”

“Your powers are something I’ve never seen before,” Dr. Strange answered bluntly, “and if we find out what’s the root of your abilities, then you can avoid using them. Now, has this—”

Before he could finish, a loud, demanding knock resonated throughout the house, startling all three of them. The doctor stood up abruptly, looking somewhat confused. “That’s odd. I don’t remember ordering pizza.”

Madeline remained frozen as the Doctor’s cape disappeared around the wall corner, and not long after she heard the beginnings of a loud argument. Whoever was at the door was definitely not a pizza delivery guy.

Coming to her sense, she hurried out the door, Astrid at her heels. If someone—say, from the United Nations—had come for her, she couldn’t just sit quietly while somebody else decided her future.

She walked briskly down the carpeted corridor, trying to not get lost in the large, unfamiliar house, following the voices as they grew louder. With every muffled footstep the feeling the knot in her stomach grew. Eventually, she stumbled across an impressive staircase and descended. Strange was nowhere in sight, but she could definitely hear him now.

Cautiously, she pressed her back to the wall and peered around the edge. From here she could make out the door, which was open, but Strange was blocking part of her view. What she was able to see, though, left her both speechless and more than a little confused. Because she had never imagined she would meet the Avengers, especially not like this.

Tony Stark stood closest to the doctor, in a what would be toe-to-toe position if they were the same height. He was dressed like a normal, albeit rich, human being, which was strangely disconcerting. Standing close by on either side of him was Vision and Spider-Man, who was a long way from home. Unlike Stark they were both wearing their respective superhero uniforms.

The small group was talking over each other, forming a jumbled mess that surely nobody could decipher. Stark’s voice finally managed to cut through the clamor. “Look, just hand her over and we’ll be on our way. Then you can get back to doing whatever it is full time wizards do.”

“I’m not a wizard. I’m a doctor, douchebag, and that’s not going to happen.”

“Don’t shoot the messenger.”

Vision’s voice entered the conversation again. “Mr. Strange—”

“Dr. Strange,” he interrupted.

“Dr. Strange,” Vision continued, undeterred, “we’re under direct orders from the United Nations to retrieve Miss Boudreaux. We’re not leaving without her in our custody.”

Strange huffed in frustration. “You’ll wish that you had listened to me when she knocks out your pilot on the flight home.”

“Do you really think you’re the only one who can handle her?”

“Handle me?” she muttered.

“Yes, I do,” the doctor shot back, evidently not hearing her. “You want to know what my job is, Stark? Protecting the world from mystical threats. I’m more than qualified to investigate her abilities. But I can’t very well do that when she’s locked in a maximum-security prison.”

Madeline’s stomach dropped about three feet further than it already had. Prison? Strange had made it seem as if the UN wanted to “catch and release” her—bring her in, catalogue her, and then let her return to her life. Had they been sent to arrest her?

Could she really trust any of them? One party wanted to possibly take her to prison, the other party lied to her and probably viewed her as some sort of mystical threat, or at the very least, a specimen.

Not seeing any way around it, Madeline stepped out from behind the wall, heart beating out of her chest. She pushed an eager Astrid behind her. “Do I get—" she began, but before she could finish, there was a sudden thwip sound. She looked down, startled, only to see her hand glued to the wall, wrapped in some sticky, white, frankly repulsive substance. Her eyes flew up to look at the others. “What the hell is this stuff?” she asked, disgusted.

“Miss Boudreaux,” Vision said immediately, ignoring her question, “you have to come with us.”

“We just established that—”

“Now wait a second,” she said indignantly, “I would like to have some choice here.”

“I’m afraid as the subject in question, you can’t,” Vision said.

“Well, that’s bullshit.”

“If you have to take her because the United Nations says so,” Strange interrupted, “then by all means take her. But don’t think for a second you’re leaving without me.”

Stark pulled off his sunglasses, which really were unnecessary anyways, given that he was indoors, and stared at the doctor incredulously. “And why exactly would you want to come?”

Strange leveled a steady look at the billionaire. “We still have no idea how her powers work. She could kill you, and you’ll have no idea how to stop her.”

“Vision can handle it, right?”

The doctor shook his head. “Not this.”

Stark drew back a few steps, whether voluntary or not. He hesitated, and then sighed in resignation, as if he couldn’t believe this was actually happening. “Fine. Deal.”

[willow-salix]

Anyone want to see Selene try (and fail) to play video games with Alan?

Day 54 of Isolation on Tracy Island and I almost killed Alan today. Mostly because he was laughing so hard he kept choking, wheezing and forgetting to breathe. 

What, you might ask, was so funny? Well, he tried to teach me to play a computer game with him. And let's just say… I'm not a natural. 

"I'm bored," I whined, stretching out a foot and poking Alan with my toe. "Entertain me." 

He looked at me. "How am I supposed to do that?" 

"I don't know, suggest something." 

"You won't like anything that I want to do." 

"I promise I will, I'll give anything a go at the moment, I'm that bored." 

"Fine," he handed me a VR headset and a set of hand controllers. "Let's play." 

"Oh, oh no! No, this is not for me. Boy, you know I'm a technophobe, I don't play games, I just can't get my head around them." 

"You promised you'd try," he reminded me, an evil glint in his eyes and an even eviller smirk on his face. 

"Crap." I sighed and slid the heavy goggles onto my face. "You had better pick something easy." 

There are, as it turns out, two versions of easy, Alan easy, and me easy. He picked Alan easy, which should be considered very hard for me. 

"What are we playing?" I asked. 

"Cavern Quest," he replied. "You'll love it, I even set you up with a witch character to go with my Knight. You'll do great." 

At least someone had faith in me. Though unfortunately that faith was about to be short lived. 

"How do I walk?" I called after him as he sped off like a streak of lightning. Boy was rapid. "Come back!" 

"Just use the thumb controls of the left controller to move, push forward or backwards to go forward or backwards and side to side to move left or right."

I pushed forward and was instantly face to face with the floor. 

"What happened?" 

"You fell over. You ran into a stump." 

"Poop. How do I get up?" 

"Push up! Just push the direction you want to go."

I pushed up and ended up looking at the stars. . 

"Erm…help?"

"Hang on, I'm coming." 

A hand grabbed mine and hauled me to my feet. 

"Thank you." 

"Want me to guide you to the first level?" 

"Yes, yes I do." 

He towed me along by the hand until we zoomed through a curved doorway into what looked like a castle hall. 

A king sat upon a pretty nifty throne, so I guessed that my assumption had been correct. 

"Welcome, brave warriors," he boomed. "I am grateful for your assistance. I shall give you five quests, each one more challenging than the last. Complete them all and you will win your place within the ranks of nobility and become a Knight of the Realm." 

"Fancy," I commented. 

"Prove your valour and recite the Cavern Quest oath." 

Alan nudged my character, and I think me in real life as I felt it in my ribs. 

"Just keep up if you can," he whispered then launched into what I assumed was the oath. 

"With mystic blades and fire ore, we pledge our honoured best. Many shall fall for only a noble few will pass the test! So come more worthy heroes and bring forth the cavern quest!" Alan finished triumphantly. 

"Mystic ore…nobel us…test…Cavern Quest…" I mumbled, the only words I could catch. Alan didn't look impressed. 

"You have pledged your fealty, you may now enter."

A set of doors opened before us and Alan dragged me through. 

"You have to be on your guard now. You're a witch, so you fight with spells. Use the buttons on your right controller to cast. You simply swoosh and point and hit the right buttons."

I lifted my right hand and swooshed, hitting a random button with my thumb. A shot of red light flew out of my hand and blew up a rock. "Dang." 

Alan cracked up laughing but soon sobered as out of the trees lumbered a gigantic troll. He dived at the troll, hammering it with his sword. 

"Cast a spell!" he yelled as I shrieked and dived out of the way, trying to karate kick it. 

"Oh, yeah, I'm magic," I remembered, fumbling with the controller. I bashed buttons madly, swinging my arm like I was batting away a fly. Coloured sparks shot this way and that, but the only thing I succeeded in hitting was Alan. 

"Hey!" 

"Sorry!" I yelled back. I risked moving a little closer and fell over again. 

Alan defeated the troll and picked me back up again, moving us through the rest of the level. It didn't come naturally or easily for me. 

"How do I jump?" I demanded. 

"Left trigger!" 

"Why am I stuck?" 

"Because you're in a bush!" 

"Why did I just die?" 

"Because you fell in lava!" 

"HIIIIYAAAAAHHHH take that you beast!" 

"That's a dog not a werewolf! Stop hitting him with that stick!" 

"Oops." 

"No! Don't go through…there."

"I can't see! I'm blind!" 

"You walked into a wall and you're still walking."

"Why can't I move?" 

"You just got yourself stuck in a corner, turn around!" 

"Why did I die this time?" 

"That tree just fell on you." 

I screamed like a banshee when something swooped down out of nowhere and attacked me. I flailed and somehow my thumb hit a button and my hand moved the right way and suddenly the gargoyle was in flames on the floor. 

"You did it!" 

"I did?" 

"Yeah!" 

"Cool. See? I got this." 

Turned out I didn't got it at all. 

We fought our way through the dark forest, taking out elves, fae and the odd goblin. Alan did the majority of the work while I set to work on a few puzzles, all of which provided me with new spells to add to my arsenal. 

"For this bit you need to change your form, you cast a spell and become something smaller, like a rat or a toad."

"I can do that?" 

"Duh, you're a witch. Use that new spell, it's easy, left, right, right, left, up."

"I wanna be a cat!" 

"Then select the cat!" 

I toggled along the options until I found a cat and hit the button. A flash of light, a puff of smoke and boom, I was a cat. 

"This is so cool! I'm a cat! I have ears! Look at my tail! I can swish." I wiggled my butt back and forth. "Swish, swish, swish," 

"We don't have time for you to play with your tail. You need to go through that pipe and push the button."

I did as I was told and actually managed to complete the mission, opening up a gate for us to go through. 

"Now return to yourself."

"I'm stuck! I'm stuck! Alan, help me!" 

"You were supposed to get out of the pipe first!" 

"You could have told me that!"

"It's common sense!" he yanked at my arms. My avatar didn't budge.

"You're too stuck and you're crushing your own lungs. I'm gonna have to kill you. Sorry about that."

"Just make it quick," I begged. I closed my eyes as he raised his sword.

We moved on once I blinked back into existence after my slaughter at the hand of my team mate. Alan handled all the quest points like the pro that he was, instructing me to go around each area, smash up as much stuff as I could and collect all the objects that fell out.

"Just get all the coins, potion ingredients and magical objects, I'll protect you and do the rest," he promised.

I nodded and proceeded with my one woman rampage of the scenery. I was a button basher, that's all I seemed to be able to do. I found it impossible to coordinate more than one button or movement at a time. I was just about managing to walk, maybe jump and land at a push, everything else was pure dumb luck.

"Yes! Take that you ugly box! Boof! Ha! Give it up, give it all up, I know you've got some gold in there. Quit holding out on me." I smacked the box with an axe that Alan had taken from a suit of armour one level back. The box refused to allow itself to be looted. "Gimme it!!! Gimme the gold! Make me rich, baby!"

I bashed a series of buttons as quickly as I could.

"Why am I a goat? Alan, I'm a goat! Why am I a goat?"

"You cast a spell, change back!"

I tried. "I'm a cow! This is worse!"

He had to stop beating up a wild boar to run over and fix me, laughing the entire time.

"Don't laugh at me! You're body shaming me!"

He actually had to hold his breath for a few seconds to calm down before he could talk me through getting back to my former self.

"Thanks."

I returned to the chest and tossed a spell at it and to my deep joy it splintered apart." Yes!" I scooped up the gold and tucked it away into my bag. I was kinda getting the hang of this.

"Come on, we gotta move!"

Alan leapt up onto the battlements and raced along the wall. I jumped up after him… and promptly fell off the other side and hit the ground.

"Crap!" I yelled as I blinked out of existence and appeared on the other side of the wall again.

It took me six goes to manage the jump, move, run routine, by which time Alan had given up waiting and was half way down the stairs that led to the great hall where the sounds of an epic battle could be heard raging.

"Alan! Don't leave me!" I raced after him and immediately ran into a door that I forgot to open first. I finally made it to the hall after getting wrapped in a spiders web, stuck in a cupboard, setting myself on fire and accidentally drinking a potion that turned me into a ghost for twenty minutes. But at least that gave me a breather to wander around and wail at nothing, kinda like I felt like doing in real life at that moment.

"What took you so long?" Alan called as he slashed at a dark elf that had just thrown a spear at his head.

"I got caught up, but I'm here now. What can I do to help?"

"Anything!" he yelled desperately.

I took him at his word, throwing spells randomly, hitting maybe one intended target out of twenty.

I swung my axe, whacking at anything that came close enough for me to hit.

"Ha! Take that you twat! Come closer so I can kill you easier!"

"I don't think life works that way," I heard John comment.

"How the…?" I looked all around and almost got hit by a flying shield. "Gahhhh," I screamed, ducking out of the way.

"Try hitting it again?" Scott suggested.

"Shut up! I'm trying to stay alive here!" I yelled back.

"Try harder," Gordon encouraged.

"Duck!" Alan yelled and it took me a second to realise he was actually being helpful. I dropped to my knees and just about avoided death by turkey leg.

I'd like to say that I held my own, but I'd be lying. I failed miserably and had to be rescued by Alan another five times just to make it to the end of the level. Though I did manage to trip over my own foot, but then a vengeful knight tripped over me where I was sprawled out on the floor, so I suppose that was a good thing.

"Nope, I'm done, I'll never get the hang of this," I tugged off the headset to find everyone sitting around, watching me.

"How long were you there?" I asked.

"Long enough," Virgil grinned.

"Swish, swish, swish," Scott wiggled his eyebrows at me. I glared in return.

"Lady Witch," John bowed, offering me an apple from the fruit bowl. "I wish to engage your services."

I raised an eyebrow. "I'm a mercenary now, I only accept precious jewels or things of high value. You got any potions about your person?"

"How about a dirty old bar of gold? Will that suffice?"

I pretended to think about it. "Deal." I held out my hand. "You good sir, just hired yourself a witch."

I've got no idea what I just agreed to but I'd just survived an epic quest and now I know I can handle anything. He won't be too mean to me, will he?