#y’know that bubble that keeps on popping up before i tag something is super annoying

[fitemilk]

long post so settle in

when i was at the nail tech school tour, the owner (director, i think is her official title?) asked me why i wanted to be a nail tech. this is something my therapist prepared me for!

___

one of the goals i had for therapy was gaining enough confidence to career switch. i was unemployed for the longest time, had a brief but unsuccessful stint at a local game store, and have been unemployed since. i refused to go back to retail and needed to switch.

my therapist would always notice my nails during a session. they are well-manicured and the color was always different each session. they are also my natural nails.

after a couple of unsuccessful tries at finding something out there for me, she asked to see my nails up close. she got me talking. since we communicate using telehealth, i showed her the nail polish collection i’ve amassed for 18 years, neatly organized in an ikea file cabinet.

she was impressed. nearly every color has its own drawer. she remarked, “i think this is what you were meant to do, patton. i think you should pursue this.”

i told her a story. it goes like this:

——-

when i was a little kid, my mom would do my nails. my mom had a modest polish collection, stored in a small wooden box. they were older polishes, based on what i currently know. not from the 90s, when i was little, but earlier. some of them probably dated back to the 70s, but they were still good. back then, the range of colors was nowhere near as wide as it is now. it was pinks and reds, maybe a plum purple. my mom would paint my nails pink.

then in 1995 (i don’t know why i remember that year, but i do), the game changed. revlon had just put out its street wear line. finally! more than just pinks and reds and maybe that purple. there were blues, greens, yellows, even a black! i went gaga. my first one was a dark blue.

my auntie got me a markwins polish set for christmas when i was 13. it was HUGE. i think it was a 30-polish set. while everything else in the house may have been an absolute clusterfuck of a hoarder mess, i held on to my polishes.

when i moved out and out-of-state, i had three polishes in my possession — a frosty blue from mary kate & ashley (yeah, those twins), a orange from wild n’ crazy, and a sheer sky blue from revlon called bright sky. i still have the latter two! and i did my nails with bright sky last week!

i began to amass my collection once more. my mom was diagnosed with cancer shortly after i left home, and by 2009, my mom was dying. she signed a dnr (do not resuscitate) order, and by late summer/early fall, the time had come. my mom was in too much pain to continue. she was in at-home hospice care, in a hospital bed, hooked up to a morphine drip. i made my final visit. i was spending what little time i had left with my mom, watching tv, getting out any final stories we wanted to share.

my mom wanted me to do her nails one last time. she knew i brought polish with me, i always did any time i traveled. she picked out two colors — korean fruit and flower stand by carolyn new york for her hands (a light peachy coral crème) and cherry glaze by sally hansen salon for her feet (a slightly jelly neutral red)

it came around full circle.

my therapist was right. i was meant to do this.

————

when the director asked me why i wanted to be nail tech, i simply said, “my mom would paint my nails when i was a little kid. when i was older, i would paint hers. it’s something that i’ve always loved.”

she loved it. when i was leaving, she said, “i thing you’re going to do well here. you’ve got style, your pink hair is very nice!”

—-

and that’s my long-winded non-linear story

[enby-hawke]

Summary: Hawke loves dragons and this is his very first dragon fight. I made up some magic that doesn’t exist. 

Word Count: 7815

Pairing: Lots of flirting mostly between oblivious Merrill, oblivious Hawke, and super annoyed Carver.

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Bethany was still not talking to Hawke and neither was Mother. That didn’t change the fact that rent needed to be paid and Hawke had only gathered half the coin needed for the expedition. With Carver in tow, Hawke circled through his usual contacts, trying to drum up some work. After one no turned into 8, and the morning slipped to noon, Hawke decided it was time to get a drink and ask Varric for ideas before his temper made him do something stupid.

“I have the usual escort and delivery jobs, but if you’re looking for something bigger, I’ve heard of another opportunity...but the patron is….”

Varric trailed off, and Hawke sighed into his glass, the growing headache an unwelcome guest. “What, he a templar or something?”

“Orlesian.”

Even Carver joined in the groan. “Maker, we’re desperate aren’t we?”

“When are we not?” Hawke chuckled back. “What’s the job?”

“Just to check on his mine. Apparently, none of his workers have clocked out of work since Saturday, but also none of them have reported home. He won’t say what the reward is only that it will “exponentially paid,” whatever that means. Eh, maybe count me out today.” Varric knitted his eyebrows as he pressed his pen to his tablet, but with two words written, he’d erase three. There were at least three drained mugs of spiked coffee that Edwina still hadn’t bussed, but whether they were from last night or this morning Hawke couldn’t tell.

“Why not? You always come along,” Hawke grinned. If anyone could use a break from his room, it was Varric.

Hawke continued to feed scraps of his sausage and eggs to Boof under the table. The mabari had his head on Hawke’s lap, begging for more with his big brown eyes.

Varric set down his pen, rubbing his temple as he adjusted his reading glasses. “Maybe cause “The Bone Pit” is haunted with ghost slaves and spiders and Maker knows what else. You want to get cursed? Be my guest. I’m good.” Varric grabbed a not drained glass of spiked coffee and took a swig.

“Already cursed. It’s not such a big deal,” Hawke shrugged nonchalantly, but mischief crept into his eyes. “C’mon, Varric, where’s your authorial pride? Think of it as a research trip. A haunted mine could be the perfect setting for your next book.”

“I write action thrillers with a dash of political intrigue,” Varric argued. He pushed Boof away when the dog tried to push his head in his lap.

“Y’know I’m kind of with the dwarf on this one,” Carver said, picking at his stew before pushing it aside.

“Hey eat, you’ll need your strength,” Hawke pushed the bowl back in front of Carver. His brother grunted but resigned himself to shoveling the stew into his mouth. Hawke turned back to Varric. “Besides we don’t have a car. It’ll take forever to walk,” Hawke gave his biggest puppy eyes and even left his chair to kneel on the sticky floor, both hands clasped pleading. “Pleeeeeeeeeease.”

“Maker,” Varric caved. He always did. “Fine, but only because writer’s block is kicking my ass.”

Hawke jumped up, a spring suddenly in his step. “Great! But I should drive. You’ve been drinking.”

Varric barked a laugh. “So have you, genius. We’ll put Donna on autopilot.”

They picked up Isabela since they were already at the Hanged Man and Merrill just happened to already be in her room. Isabela didn’t like the idea of traipsing through a boneyard but when Merrill wanted to go, she resigned to tagging along. It was kind of like that ever since Hawke introduced the two, and that worked out since it was fun to watch Carver attempts to talk to Merrill. Though he was rooting for them, he couldn’t help but join Isabela teasing them.

Varric introduced Hawke to Hubert Bartiere in the Hightown Market where he had a store that sold everything from high-end fabric, perfumes, and of course his featured item, polished gems and jewelry mined and crafted “locally”. The man knew Hawke was Ferelden as soon as Hawke introduced his dog. He was less than impressed. Both Carver and Hawke managed not to punch him.

“You’re a mercenary, right?” Hubert glared at the odd party of humans, a dwarf, a Dalish elf and a mabari.

“I do a bit of everything,” Hawke shrugged.

“Well you’re good at killing and that’s what I need. I sent a group from the Wicked Dawn’s to take a look and they haven’t returned. I’m starting to think they made off with my coin. You, I won’t pay until the job’s done.” He continued to primp the mannequin displays, trying to end the conversation.

Hawke wasn’t satisfied with that and tapped Hubert on the shoulder. “But what is the reward? The listing isn’t clear.”

The man looked repulsed at the fact that he had been touched and took out a handkerchief, patting himself down. “I don’t know the extent of the problem so it depends on what you find there. Rest assured you will be fairly compensated. I am a reputable and fair merchant.”

Varric snorted at that, which told Hawke what he needed to know. The mage crossed his arms, planting himself in front of the mannequin in a peacock dress. “Not taking one step out of Kirkwall unless we each get 50 silvers each and then we can discuss a potential bonus-depending on what I find.”

The man looked outraged, his temple vein popping. “Where does a dog-barbarian get off making demands like that?”

“I can vouch for him,” Varric offered. “Whatever’s going on in your mine, Hawke can solve it. He comes with the Tethras guarantee.”

Hawke grinned cockily, imagining his fist was knocking out one of the Orlesian’s teeth.

The man sniffed sharply. “If it turns out my workers are just being lazy I will want my money back.”

‘And you won’t get it,’ Hawke thought, but he nodded offering the man the peace of mind he needed.

The man reached into his pocket going for plastic coin chits, but Hawke held up his hand in refusal. “I prefer coin.”

“I will need to go to the bank to convert it over. That may take some time as I can’t leave my stall. Perhaps you should go and check on my mine while you wait.”

Hawke grabbed the chits angrily. “Taking these for collateral. You can exchange them after I come back.”

The Bone Pit was only about 15 minutes away flying on Donna. You had to pass it when you left the city to get anywhere else. “Oh don’t look so grumpy, Varric,” Hawke nudged the dwarf, Donna’s wheel automatically adjusting course. “Didn’t you say hanging out with me is always an adventure?”

“Don’t butter me up, Hawke. You’re just using me for my wings.”

When they piled out of the car, Boof galloped out, dashing wildly in a wide circle causing Merrill to giggle.

“Boof!” Hawke called out. The dog bounced off a boulder and bounded back towards Hawke, and sat at attention, his feathery tail quivering as it swayed from side to side. “I’m glad you’re enjoying the fresh air, bud, but we have a job to do. Lead us to trouble.”

Boof nodded instead of barking, his puppy demeanor shifting instantly to wardog. Then he dashed away, before dashing back, then dashed away again, impatient at the humanoids much slower stride. The mine itself was strangely abandoned, pickaxes and tools and even luggage and blood were strewn about but no people. They kept their hands on their weapons as they explored, sometimes jumping at the sound of some birds scattering as they approached. The wind whistled through the mountains carrying cries of creatures that they could not place. The air was cold, the veil felt thin. You could feel the Fade weighing down from the midst of haze that hovered overhead.

Boof led them to the foot of a cave, where they saw a miner still dressed in ratty clothes. He was lying face down, several spider punctures tore through his shirt, where the man had been drained of blood. Strangely, his back was also burned, his skin had bubbled and stinking the air with singed flesh. The corpse had been scavenged, huge chunks of his torso that had been chomped out, most of his organs missing, but all the days-old blood was dry and flaking. “Poor man,” Merrill said. “It might have been a rage demon.”

“Or a dragon,” Hawke whispered, his heart suddenly in his throat. The heat that had done this was intense, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up.

Suddenly Boof crouched, growling menacingly. They all turned to hear several high-pitched screeches. Hawke recognized the cry and dashed after his dog, casting a haste spell to keep up.

“Hawke!” he heard several voices shout behind him, but he wouldn’t slow down. The bright lantern lights danced with the shadows in the cave, echoing with the pounding of his gait. He kept running until he saw a clearing where about 20 drakes of all at varying sizes huddled. At the head of the pack stood the broodfather, fully mature at about 10 feet tall, and he breathed out a territorial fire at the sight of the intrusion in his nest.

“Aaaaaww, Boof,” he groaned. “It’s not a dragon.”

The drake screeched charging, the other younger drakes following in tow. Hawke sighed, it was still a fight and he still had to take it seriously. Deciding to save bullets, he grabbed the staff from his back, unfolding the blades with a click of a button.

The mabari was eager to charge but Hawke put his hand up. “Not yet, Boof,” he said and the dog sat down, waiting.

He channeled his magic into his staff, building up energy. When he collected enough, he waved his hand, imagining where he wanted ice to form. All beneath the charging drakes, sigils of ice mines formed exploding some smaller drakes into the air. Crystal crept and spread across the dirt and stone covering the drakes path with slippery ice. The smaller drakes began to lose traction, sliding and falling, but the largest drake dug his claws into the ground, steadying himself, digging claw after claw as it pushed its way out of the ice field.

The others were just beginning to catch up when they gazed out towards the damage already done. “Boof and I got the big one if you guys want to take the smaller ones,” Hawke grinned, causing Carver to roll his eyes. Hawke then pointed at the broodfather. “Boof! Tear out his throat!”

The mabari yipped in confirmation and bolted from his seat charging for the enormous drake. It bellowed, breathing fire but the dog bounded and bounced out of the way. Hawke aimed at Boof, and cast a haste spell, speeding up the dog’s gait so the drake could not aim properly.

Bullets and magic and Bianca’s laser bolts shot past the broodfather picking off the still slipping lesser drakes. Carver had decided to opt-out of this fight. He was now turned away, the tip of his greatsword buried in some dirt. Boof was in front of the drake now, and it swiped at the mabari with its meaty claw. Boof yipped, bouncing off its arm and then back to the ground. The dog jumped back up, raking his claws into the drake’s skin and pushed himself upwards. Boof barked triumphantly, clamping down on the drake’s throat and started to shred. Blood spurted out of the wound and the dog wriggled, tearing open it’s tough leather hide.

Hawke nervously watched his dog swinging through the air, his staff following as he aimed a barrier at him. The drake was moving erratically, turning and twisting and slipping and Hawke could not get a clean shot. The drake kept swiping at its neck, and it was only a matter of time before Boof would get hit.

“Boof, return!” he ordered and the dog released his chomp and pushed off the drake. Hawke managed to cast a barrier as he landed just in time for the drake to swipe. The claw sparked against the barrier, sending the dog flying backward towards Hawke. Boof scrambled to his feet and shook his head all the way down to his feathery tail. That was close.

The drake was dying now, all the other lesser drakes almost picked off by the others. Carver was sulking. Sure Hawke was disappointed it wasn’t dragons, too, but at least they were in the same family. “You want to finish it off, little bro?”

“Go ahead,” Carver muttered, not turning towards Hawke.

Hawke shrugged. He didn’t know what he did wrong this time, but he didn’t feel like playing into Carver’s mood. The drake was approaching now, trying to breathe fire, but it could not manage it any longer and the flames only went a few inches past its mouth. Hawke chose an ice spike, aiming carefully. He shot it, the air whistling as the large chunk of crystal shot from Hawke’s hand and into the wound Boof had opened. The spike pushed through its spine and through the back of the dragon’s neck. The drake gurgled, swayed and fell with a thud.

“Is that all of them?” Merrill asked, breaking the sudden silence.

Hawke sheathed his staff onto his back. “There may be more. We should clear out the cave just in case.”

They had found the rest of the miners and the mercenaries Hubert had sent earlier. The corpses were dragged behind a knocked-down wall only days open strewn about the nest in a shallow pile. The bloody bones were in the process of being stripped clean with gnaw marks chewed in. Armor was scattered in shallow piles with a single torso still trapped stuck into its chest plate-dented from where the drakes had tried to peel it off.

Hawke and Isabela, of course, halted the group to check to see if they could find any coin or other valuables amongst the scattered body parts. Both of them dug through pockets and bags throwing whatever didn’t interest them over their shoulder which could either be a rock, a button, a shovel, or a foot. Isabela pried off a gold ring off a mercenary’s gloved finger inspecting it closely. Hawke collectively found 126 silver and split amongst the group. Isabela, like always, kept all the coin she found and the ring, but still was still happy to receive her share.

“Nice!” Hawke grinned as he divided up the piles. “It’s even.”

“I still don’t know why Boof needs money,” Isabela eyed the pile before Boof, who was busy cleaning himself.

“Oh c’mon. Boof deserves a king’s meal after taking out that drake.” He collected Boof’s share and put it on the money pouch on his armor harness. “I’m treating him to a special dinner after this,” Hawke grinned at his pup who looked up at him with his tongue still out. “Your pick.”

Isabela groaned as Hawke suddenly started baby-talking his dog showering him with kisses over his snout as Boof’s tongue would stretch trying to reach Hawke’s face. She didn’t bring up that Hawke was always treating his dog to “special dinners.” Boof’s happy booming bark bounced against the cave wall, as he rolled onto his back, demanding belly rubs.

“Quiet, Boof, we don’t want to wake the nest.” Hawke said sternly.

Boof then boofed, his throaty bark muffled in his throat as he begged still belly-up.

After a short-ish belly rub session in which Merrill joined, they spent the next few hours exploring each nook and cranny. Hawke kept hoping for a dragon. There was a whole nest here, but he knew Mothers didn’t usually stay near the brood. She might be nearby, or anywhere in the mountains, if she was there at all. They kept going when they heard the sound of a cry. It was a man’s voice, and he was terrified.

“We’ve got a survivor,” Hawke told Boof. “Find him.”

Boof nodded, dashing forward and the party followed to find a man who had climbed on top of a rock. He was surrounded by 5 lesser drakes about as big as Boof. They clicked and growled trying to climb up the rock, but the red-haired miner kept kicking them back down with his lone spare boot, his other dirty pink foot bare.

He spotted the group and shot an arm out towards them. “Help me! Please!”

Boof corralled the drakes, herding them away from the miner. Hawke was about to shoot a fireball when he remembered he didn’t know this man and waved at an overly eager Merrill to put down her staff. Carver and Isabela understood and they charged alongside Hawke with Merrill lagging behind, her staff at the ready. Varric picked off drake after drake with throat and eye shots. There were only 2 left by the time Isabela, Carver, and Hawke arrived. Isabela grabbed one biting head and shoved her dagger in its eye. The drake squealed before keeling over. Carver chopped off the other one’s head and it rolled away, it’s tongue flopping. Hawke having nothing to do started helping the man down from the rock that he was trapped on.

“Oh thank the Maker. I thought I was gonna die.”

“Yeah you got pretty lucky,” Hawke nodded, steadying the man. “How are you? Need food? Water?”

“I’m thirstier than a son of a bitch. I’ve been trapped in these caves for days now,” the man replied causing Hawke to dig through his bag and bring out a thermos and some jerky. The man took it and greedily downed the whole thermos leaving Hawke with just the backwash and then inhaled the jerky.

“Thank Mythal you’re ok,” Merrill said, leaning against her staff. “How did you survive?”

“By hiding mostly,” he replied, coughing on the meat. “I spent most of my time in a crate, with the quarry, but my thirst got the better of me. I tried to make my way to the entrance but those dragons sniffed me out.”

“Actually, those were drakes,” Hawke corrected.

“What’s the difference?”

“Drakes are primarily male with few exceptions, have no wings, and only grow a quarter of the size of-,”

The man held up his hand. “Sorry I asked. I just really want to get out of there.”

“Oh, yeah,” Hawke felt embarrassed that he had gone into lecture mode about drakonis. “Sure, the way back should be clear.”

Hawke started to move forward but the man grabbed him by the shoulder his murky brown eyes manic with fear. “You can’t go through there. There’s a huge dragon.”

“We can handle it,” Hawke shrugged. He probably meant another drake.

“No, you don’t understand it’s much bigger than the others- with the horns and huge wings. You don’t want to go out there.”

Hawke suddenly lit up. One with wings? Could he be telling the truth? “Let’s go, Boof,” Hawke dashed off, his wagging dog yipping in agreement.

He could hear the others only barely turning the corner, their footsteps echoing against the cave walls. “Will you slow down?” Carver shouted.

“She might not be there if we wait too long,” Hawke called back over his shoulder.

Hawke’s ears were pounding with the thud of his heartbeat. His breathing was erratic and only Boof seemed to be able to keep up with his hastened gait. He dashed out of the cave and onto a rocky plateau where she lay, curled up like a cat, her head tucked into her hefty claws.

He was paralyzed, his heart galloping in his chest and for a few moments, he could only stare. “Holy fuck it’s really a dragon,” Hawke whispered just as the group caught up with him.

Hawke was visibly trembling. He thought he would disintegrate at this moment. She was young, only a few heads taller than a full-grown drake and her scales were a sandy color. She had two sets of outstretched horns that ended in sharp, bony points. Her claws were like obsidian and about half the size of his mabari and they twitched as the dragon slumbered, unaware of the intrusion. For a few moments, all he could hear was the sound of his heartbeat and he breathed alongside the beast.

“This is the best day of my life!” Hawke’s voice was not quiet and there was a chorus of shushes.

The dragon stretched and moved and Carver pulled Hawke back into the cave before his brother could go charging. The Abyssal snorted, but settled back into its dream. “Elgar’nan, she’s big,” Merrill whispered, peeking around the corner.

“Don’t worry I’ll protect you,” Carver told Merrill. Then he turned to Hawke, strapping his greatsword to his back. His voice was still low and wary. “This might get messy. Mind if I borrow Dad’s gun?”

Hawke’s eyes lit up. “The Armorwing?” He was too loud again and was shushed.

“Yeah, we never had a real chance to try it out,” Carver grinned back.

Hawke waved his hand excitedly, opening a portal, and reached into the white void. He called to his mind the image of the gun, trying to ignore the sudden ache as a soft memory of daily shooting practice bubbled into his thoughts. Suddenly, he could remember the first time he held the Armorwing and quickly squashed down the flood of memories that threatened to come crashing in. A few moments later, he felt it wrapped around his fingers and he pulled out a silverite assault cannon with a barrel about 2 inches wide. 6 different colored runes were into 3 buttons on each side.

Carver slipped the strap into place adjusting it to his size and as he fiddled with some of the settings while Hawke hovered over. The rest of the party was dumbfounded.

“Now remember we’re going to want to stick to ice settings for most of the fight. She’s fire-aspected.” Hawke pointed at the snowflake rune which made Carver snort, and he pressed it before Hawke could.

“I know how to use it. Just don’t get us killed,” Carver muttered. He clicked off the safety and stared down the sight.

“How in the Maker’s name did two broke Fereldens get their hands on an Armorwing?” Varric asked.

“Didn’t I tell you? My dad helped invent them,” Hawke shrugged.

“Oh, I guess that explains everything then,” Varric replied, his tone stating the opposite.

“Don’t worry, it's got nothing on Bianca,” Hawke grinned.

Isabela followed, exchanging her knives for her handguns. “Great we found the dragon- Let’s kill it while it’s sleeping,” she began to aim but Hawke shoved his way forward bounding like the mabari that trailed his feet- in front of Isabela’s aim.

“Oh sweet Maker,” Carver groaned.

Hawke didn’t even notice his party but was addressing his dog rather seriously, his arms crossed looking into the mabari mutt’s deep brown eyes. The mabari’s long feathered tail was wagging wildly somehow understanding. “Now this is our first real dragon fight, Boof. She’s young but it’s the real deal so keep up, okay. She looks maybe 50 summers at most, but don’t underestimate her. Her flame sac is fully mature. She will be able to create a gaseous flame that burns at about 1600 degrees Celsius. Boof! That’s hotter than lava!”

“Lucky,” Carver cleared his throat. He seemed more annoyed than horrified.

“Right, right,” Hawke nodded and then nodded to his dog. “Got that? No catch. Stay behind me if it gets rough-”

The dragon was starting to awaken because Hawke wasn’t exactly being quiet. The party fidgeted, with varying degrees of anger to fear, except for Carver who was just sighing and looking up to the sky for help.

“Uh, Hawke what the fuck are you doing?” Varric whispered not that it mattered if he was quiet any longer. The dragon slowly opened one scaly red-eye, it’s gaze fixating on the bubbly mage who was enthusiastically stretching his arms and lunging.

“Looks like it’s time.” Hawke clapped his hands in glee then placed them on the ground. Pebbles trembled and sudden spikes of boulders shot up from the ground, startling the dragon. A circle of spaced jagged rocks juts out one by one making makeshift barriers on the platform, while one boulder raised right before Hawke’s feet. The dragon crouched defensively, dodging the spikes as she took to the air with several wind-inducing wing beats.

The dragon bellowed the air grew stiff and dry and flames shot down at Hawke, who pressed himself behind the center boulder. Everyone dove undercover as the flames flooded the platform melting some of the rock. “Whoooooooooooooooo!” Hawke whooped as the flames split against the boulders shooting past him and blackening the rocks in front of him. He only had a small pocket where he and Boof huddled as the flames licked past them, the heat sweltering the air, making it thin.

The dragon finally stopped inhaling and swooping far into the air beyond the reach of bullets and laser bolts.

“Maker she’s so beautiful.” Hawke was shouting now. “Alright everyone barriers will last only about 4 seconds at best under direct fire so best stay undercover and stay light on your feet.”

Merrill chirped from where she was ducked under a rock near the mouth of the cave. Carver was guarding her with his body, the Armorwing clenched in his hands. He swore under his breath as Merrill drew her staff, her eyes wide and trembling but she just said, “Let’s try not to get cooked, everyone. It’ll smell awful.” Somehow she was just able to accept that this was happening.

“She’s magnificent,” Hawke laughed maniacally. “Aw man, does anyone want to record this?”

Isabela and Varric just glanced at each other from their cover, not sure if they should gang up to kill Hawke.

“You’re mad, you know that?” Isabela cried. She fired several shots at the dragon, as it circled around them trying to make runs in the safety of the skies, but the bullets just sparked against her underbelly. Varric shot a laser from Bianca but it only scorched the scale. Carver shot one hole in the center of it’s right wing. The dragon screeched, echoing through the mountains. It breathed flames again, and everyone dove back under cover of the boulders. But though its hide was blackened it didn’t seem to do much damage.

“Her underbelly’s harder than steel,” Hawke cried. “Aim for the fleshy part of her wings to bring her down.”

Hawke aimed an ice spike at the dragon’s eye but she tilted, veering left and the spike shot past her. Isabela shot up with her handgun, the dragon flinching each time a bullet bounced off the wing but one bullet went clean through, blood spurted from the wound. Merrill flung spells and bolts up at the dragon in support but the dragon seemed to be absorbing the magic.

The dragon gurgled, it’s mouth lighting up as it swooped down for another pass. “Cover,” Hawke called out. Boof barked and they both dove behind the boulder again everyone ducking for safety. The rocks were steaming still red with flame that slowly died into embers. Their cover would melt away if they took much longer. The dragon honed in on the dog, following it with its flame. Boof galloped towards the edge of the arena bouncing against the rocks to lift him just beyond her reach. Hawke shot at the dragon's head, another ice spike grazed her eye, scraping it and it’s turned its head, the fiery stream blasting away from the plateau.

“Boof, you alright?” Hawke called out, his voice high and panicked.

The dog barked from behind a boulder.

The dragon bellowed zoning in on Hawke, circling back around. Varric was following the dragon with Bianca, Carver with the Armorwing, Isabela with her handguns. They both took turns shooting holes in her wings whenever they had an opening. Some of Varric’s laser bolts bounced off the bone and impaled themselves into the rock with glowing red spikes. Isabela aimed for parts already bleeding, but Carver’s ice absorbed into the dragon causing it to shriek every time he managed a hit. The dragon hovered above, steadily losing traction, when a huge rock flew from what seemed like nowhere and smacked the dragon on it’s nose.

“Nice one, Kitten!” Isabela grinned in approval.

“Watch out!” Merrill shouted back.

Blood spurted from it’s nostrils as the boulder continued undeterred into the sky. The dragon tumbled down, crashing into the rocks which slid away clearing half the platform.

She shook her head, her red eyes a little glazed but quickly spotted Hawke and started slinking into range.She gurgled, her teeth glowing orange as she inhaled.

“Lucky!” Carver cried out as Hawke fleeing behind the lone center boulder still steaming from being hit from all sides. He could not get too close to the melting rock and he could feel the heat on his back.

The flames wrapped around the boulder scooping out and filling the space. The dragon continued breathing fire approaching the boulder, the flames curling around the side singing Hawke as it became a hot bowl of flames. Hawke cast a barrier absorbing most of the indirect heat but the dragon was determined to burn Hawke out of existence and kept breathing out.

His barrier was cracking, the protective glow quickly fading. The heat was getting through and his skin began to blister. He called healing magic to run through him, trying to keep up with the damage.

“Hold on Hawke!” Merrill cried. A sigil formed around Hawke and lighting him up with a soft blue glow underneath before another barrier encased his body.

The dragon held out for a few more seconds before she could breathe no more, and it took a long ragged gasp. “Carver, now!” Hawke cried, but the dragon once again began to inhale.

The dragon swiped away the melting boulder, leaving Hawke completely in the open. Carver cried out dashing from the dragon’s flank and buried his greatsword deep between two scales in the dragon’s neck where it snapped off. Blood squirted from the wound and the dragon breathed out short premature flames that Hawke was able to dodge. Carver then grabbed the Armorwing, aimed it at the wound, and shot several rapid ice bullets. The ice burst through the other side of the dragon’s neck, the bullet’s sizzling against the stone as they bounced off. The dragon bellowed, stomping all across the ground, causing an earthquake and Carver struggled to maintain his footing as he dodged the dragon’s swipes.

Boof barked, charging at the dragon his hackles raised and chomped down on the wound Carver just made. The dragon flailed, trying to shake the dog off as he shredded the wound. The ground shook, knocking Carver off his feet. Hawke dove forward while the dragon was distracted and rolled under her head where the soft underside of her mouth was exposed. He drew his staff from his back, and with mana-enhanced force he jabbed the blade upwards through the soft scales into the roof of the dragon’s mouth snapping it’s maw shut and snuffing out the flames. Hawke cried out, channeling all his energy into one large lightning bolt that amplified through Hawke’s staff and sizzled the dragon, frying its brain. The dragon’s head swerved and began to fall and Hawke rolled and kept rolling until her seventy-pound head shook the ground with a thud.

The dragon twitched, flapping its wings erratically as it tried to take flight again. She attempted to open her mouth, but the slick black staff held firmly in place. Flames shot through its teeth and nostrils as it rattled its last breath. It’s great red eye slit focused on Hawke, his reflection staring back as the life seeped out of the creature until the dust settled and all was silent.

Varric stepped out from behind his melted boulder, Bianca still raised at the creature. “Andraste’s flaming tits. You idiots did it.”

Hawke threw up his arms whooping as loudly as he could. Flames shot from Hawke’s mouth, a stream of triumphant fire blasting over the dead dragon as he mimicked her breath. Carver tackled him screaming excitedly, snuffing out the flame. Both of their cries bounced off the mountains of the Bone Pit. Soon Boof was shaking himself off and joined in howling on top of a boulder, safe from the heat of the hot stone. Hawke grappled Carver, trying to corral his head into a noogie, “Fuck yeah, little bro. First fucking dragon! Who’s kick-ass now!”

“Get off me,” Carver laughed twisting out of Hawke’s grasp quite easily since he was about a whole a head taller and twice as broad. “You idiot! You almost got us all killed.”

Merrill giggled, as the brothers wrestled for dominance. The mabari stayed barking at the brother’s, demanding one of them pay attention. The brothers twisted and squirmed, until Carver slammed Hawke into the ground, forgetting the stone still glowed with heat.

“FUCK!” Hawke’s scream echoed and he jumped to his feet, the back of his arms were singed and stinging. He had already been nursing burns and this just reopened them. Embers flaked off his leather armor and faded as they fell.

“FUCK!” Carver’s hands were sweltering where he had caught himself on the hot stone. His fingers trembled in the pain, parts of his palms bubbling.

“What kind of idiot gets more hurt after the dragon battle?” Varric chuckled. He was writing something in his travel notebook.

“The kind of idiocy that’s genetic,” Isabela rolled her eyes as the brothers nursed their wounds.

“You guys should be thanking me,” Hawke called back. “That was awesome!” He was already running his hands over Carver’s so they weren’t as much of an angry brown-red. Then he ran a spell through his whole body, the stinging easing just a bit. When he was done, he finally noticed that Boof was licking his paws, also bloody with burns. “Oh Boof, I forgot your shoes.”

“Are you all alright?” Merrill called out. Speaking of shoes, Merrill’s had no soles in spite of Hawke’s and Isabela’s insistence she get a sturdy pair of boots. Even if she did, everyone’s shoes were melting into the stone. She was still at the edge of the platform, safe, but trapped.

Hawke ran up to the boulder that Boof had taken refuge on. He was laying on his side panting, but with happy eyes. Lucky dug into his blood to fuel one more regeneration spell, his hands closing the burns on Boof’s back paws. Boof licked his dark gold snout, closing his eyes as Lucky worked.

The skin was growing, but it still looked tender.

Still need to visit Anders.

“You did great, bud,” he rubbed the dog’s floppy ear affectionately then hoisted the pup up over his shoulders so he wouldn’t have to walk on the scorched ground. The dog turned his head, licking Hawke’s cheek.

Then Hawke walked over to the dragon head and put one hand on its snout, the scales still warm. The Abyssal’s head was as half as big as Hawke’s body and he felt this great sense of peace as he gazed into the dragon’s eyes. “I’ve been dreaming of getting close enough for forever and...” he couldn’t finish his thoughts and turned to Varric, odd eyes gleaming with excitement. “You think we can bring the head with us?”

“Why in the Maker’s name would you want to?” Varric snorted.

“I don’t know. It’s cool.”

“Where in Gamlen’s hovel where would we store it?” Carver said.

“Fine, then I’m at least taking a tooth or else no one at the Hanged Man will believe me. Wait! Someone take a picture!”

“I got a selfie stick,” Isabela cried out digging through her bag.

“Um, you guys go ahead,” Merrill called out at the gathering group, still stuck at the edge of the platform. “I think I might just wait until the ground cools down.”

The group exchanged glances before Hawke nudged Carver. His brother looked annoyed that he was shoved. Boof licked Carver’s head as Hawke leaned in close. “Go be a gentleman,” he whispered, winking.

Carver blushed deeply, Isabela and Varric snickering. Carver undid the strap of the Armorwing, handing it back to Hawke to put away. “Uh…Merrill?” he started out awkwardly taking only a single step forward.

“Yes, Carver?” she called back.

“If you’d like I could…carry you?” Carver looked like he might keel over.

Her green eyes lit up in relief, but her pointy ears twitched slightly. “Oh, I wouldn’t wish to be a bother.”

“Ridiculous!” Hawke cried, shoving Carver forward with his free hand,“Carver’s great a picking up beautiful girls.” Immediately Merrill went beet red all the way to the tips of her ears. Boof barked as Hawke’s grip slipped putting the Armorwing back into the portal. Quickly, he hoisted the dog back up onto his shoulders.

“Lucky,” Carver said warningly, looking nervous as he gazed back at him.

“Go get her,” Hawke whispered.

The three of them unashamedly ogled as Carver, red-eared, walked up to Merrill his feet slightly dragging. He rubbed the back of his neck avoiding her gaze. She had a habit of staring intensely and Carver couldn’t seem to stand the scrutiny. “Would you like a piggyback or would you prefer bridal style?”

“Bridal style!” Hawke hooted, causing Carver to glare at him murderously.

“Oooh, swoop her up in those big strong arms!” Isabela teased.

“That’s my vote!” piped Varric.

“It’s not a vote!” Carver bristled, his brown freckled skin deepening all the way down to his neck.

Merrill seemed to look confused, not quite understanding what Hawke, Varric, and Isabela saw as so amusing. “Um…I don’t know what either of those mean so just…whatever makes you most comfortable.” She held out her arms straight out towards Carver, unsure what was going to happen.

Carver awkwardly leaned down since he was a head and a half taller, and placed her hands on his shoulder. “Kind of link your hands so you don’t fall-”

She removed her hands from his shoulders and clasped her hands together, waiting for her next instructions. Carver, not wanting to correct her, tried to push his head through the hole in her arms but his head was so big he just pushed her arms up, confusing Merrill.

“You’re brother’s real smooth, Hawke,” Varric chuckled.

“It’s like watching a drunk monkey pet a cat,” Isabela cringed.

“Yup,” Hawke replied. This was painful.

Finally, he thought to grab her hands, unlink them, throw them around his neck and then press them back together before he finally scooped her up by the knees causing her to yelp in surprise.

He steadied himself as she flailed squeezing onto him and then carried her back to the dragon where Isabela was fixing her phone onto the stick. “Finally, lovebirds,” she teased.

Carver glared at her in an effort to shut her up but she just waggled her eyebrows as she extended the stick and then held it up in the air. They huddled around the dragon head with Hawke sitting on top, gripping each horn. His dog still draped around his shoulders licking his lips and panting heavily. Carver was carrying Merrill to his right, Merrill smiling sweetly, but Carver’s face looked uncomfortably serious. Varric and Isabela were to Hawke’s left, both linked arm in arm and grinning. Isabela was making a peace sign.

“Say “dragon!” Hawke yelled out.

“Dragon!” only Merrill and Hawke called out as they snapped the picture.

They took several more photos since Isabela didn’t like how she looked in the first one. She held up the group for 5 minutes adjusting her hair and make-up in the camera on her phone. When they finally got a picture Isabela didn’t hate, Hawke insisted he has one with his head inside the dragon’s mouth. It took a bit to pry out his staff and he also got a lot of drool in his hair for that idea. Then Hawke picked the biggest, sharpest tooth he could find took 15 minutes of digging it out with his dagger. Boof scrambled off of Hawke’s shoulders and settled himself on the dragon’s neck, watching his packleader work. Finally, when Hawke successfully pulled out the tooth and put it in his pocket, the party turned to leave. But Hawke, instead of following, turned the dragon’s head on its side started sawing at the dragon’s throat.

“Lucky,” Carver said warningly. “We’re not taking the head with us.”

“I’m not,” Hawke grunted, tearing the dragon’s throat-wound open gingerly, his hands slick with blood.

“Uh…Hawke gets a little crazy around dragons.” Varric stared at Hawke like he was completely unhinged.

“You have no idea,” Carver muttered.

“Just a sec.” Hawke couldn’t focus on talking. He set the bloody dagger down on the dragon’s head and used his hands to peel down the top of the muscles gingerly. Then when he had a big enough opening, he dug his hands into the dragon's throat. He didn’t have to go very far to find what he was looking for, the Abyssal’s flame sac. Carefully, he felt around until he could see in his mind exactly what the gland looked like. Then pulling out his right bloody forearm, he picked up the dagger again and slid it inside, carefully shearing away the tendons that held the firm sac in place.

The party watched in horror as the blood gushed onto Hawke, who seemed to not mind it one bit. The sounds of squelching and ripping filled the air and Isabela looked queasy. “Anybody bring a bucket?” she covered her mouth.

When it was free, he tucked the blood-drenched dagger back into his sheath on his belt and pulled out a small red fleshy ball that’s center glowed orange. Its thick skin was veiny, almost see-through and it beat like a heart.

“Isn’t it amazing? It’s her flame sac.” Hawke breathed excitedly. “Look her magic lives, but it’s not as warm as I thought it would be.”

“Uh…that’s great Hawke,” Varric replied. He was eyeing his friend, who was drenched with slick, steaming dragon blood from his face all the way down to his melted boots.

Isabela whistled, “Good call. An extinct dragon gland can probably fetch at least 100 sovereigns. Maybe more in the right circles.” She dared a peek just in time for it to beat. She gagged and turned away. “Glad I didn’t have to do it.”

“We can probably fund the expedition with this!” Carver said.

“I was thinking of giving it to Merrill, actually,” Hawke replied, causing the Dalish elf’s eyes to widen in surprise in Carver’s arms. “I mean we’re not too far off from funding the expedition and Abyssal flame sacs are especially potent at cleansing magics. Perhaps it will help purify your eluvian shard?”

Merrill’s green eyes were so wide Hawke thought he might fall in. “Oh, n-no, Hawke, I couldn’t. You need it more,” her face was red as she stammered.

“We can find coin anywhere,” Hawke shrugged, “but restoring an eluvian? That’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. Besides that barrier probably saved my life. I owe you,” He smiled at Merrill who was beaming back until he met Carver’s gaze. Somehow he had pissed him off.

“Um,” Hawke said awkwardly, “I’ll just put it away until we can store it properly.” He was suddenly feeling self-conscious. He waved his hand opening up an interdimensional portal and stuck the sac in the reflective portal before closing it, his brother still glaring coldly.

“Great, great,” Varric muttered. “Now can we go home. My pants are singed and I think all the rubber’s melted off my shoes.”

Hawke leaned on Varric, slicking blood onto him. “Buy me a drink, Varric. I’m a dragon-slayer now.” He waved his hand into a fist dramatically.

“It’s your turn, dragon-kook,” Varric groaned as he looked at his clothes, an impression of blood slick where Hawke had made contact.

They bantered and teased Carver all the way back to Varric’s car. At one point Isabela had to flee from one of Hawke’s blood-drenched hugs. Merrill had not noticed she was being carried the whole time until they arrived at the car which caused Isabela to hone in on Carver’s reddening face. “You didn’t realize? Really, Carver? Why don’t you just ask her out?”

“Ask me out to what? That sounds fun!” Merrill cried.

Carver looked like he would crumble under the laughter.

On the way home, Hawke had been forced to strip down to his small clothes and hose down with magic before Varric would let him into his car.

“You’re easy to get naked, Hawke. I just have to ask.”

Carver refused to look at him. Merrill was red, fidgeting with her seat belt refused to even glance at him the whole time. When Hawke tried to make conversation she would squeak and refuse to say anymore. Isabela stared in approval. “You do keep fit.”

Hawke refused to part with the dragon tooth and he refused to clean it. He wanted to remember this moment exactly as it was. Varric did made him put it in a plastic grocery bag so it wouldn’t drip and he clutched it happily. He rode home with one towel beneath him so he wouldn’t wet the seats and one towel draped over his shoulders. His curly hair was frizzing and messy. Boof’s head laid on Hawke’s lap as he sprawled across his brother and Merrill, his feathery healing paws now wrapped, and twitching in his sleep.

“You know, Hawke, I had a thought,” Merrill’s eyes were purposely averted from him, her voice high and uncomfortable.

“Yeah, Merrill,” he looked over to her and she dared a peek. His one brown eye, one blue met hers, and she gasped. Hawke’s unbridled joy was spread in the biggest grin, his brown freckled skin warm and bright, and he was of course completely nude except the tight superhero boxers that clung to his drying skin.

Her eyes went wide and stayed wide as she slowly looked away, her whole body rigid and stiff with some expression Hawke could not decipher. “Uh,” she said and gulped. “Why didn’t you just put the dragon in your portal?”

Everyone’s expressions fell dark as Hawke’s mouth fell open. For a moment he just gawked at her brilliance. “I could kiss you!” he shouted, startling the slumbering pup who barked in protest. Carver clenched his fist, ready to punch him as Merrill suddenly fell and bonked her head on the car window. Hawke obliviously shot forward, placing one hand on the dwarf’s sagging shoulders. “Varric, we need to turn back!”