Hawke was born the (victimofaname) wrote in valloic, @ 2020-06-22 17:47:00 |
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Entry tags: | !: action/thread/log |
Who: Anders & Hawke
What: Finding the Emporium
When: Backdated to the 17th
Where: The Black Emporium
Status: Complete.
Ratings/Warnings: Low (some language)
Throughout her stay here, she’d seen plenty of weird things. Weird creatures with swords for arms had been her first encounter, then there had been the half owl/half bear things, and the weirdest thing in recent days had been the fact a goose had gone and apparently kidnapped a bunch of people. She’d thrown her hands up at that point and figured that would be the weirdest thing she’d see yet.
She really should know better. The Maker delighted in proving her wrong.
She’d sent a text to Anders to meet her, giving him the street she was at. She stood there in the little alleyway, hands on her hips as she stared at the sign. It was a street you could pass a dozen times and not notice the shop, which made sense really. She’d passed the street herself and was fairly sure she’d never seen it before. But along with the fact she’d never trusted Xenon too much (anyone making deals with Witches of the Wild without being really specific was suspect, really) she wasn’t too willing to go into a store that had enough magic in it to hide from an entire city filled with Templars alone. Besides, she figured Anders might get a laugh from this too.
---
Vallo certainly knew how to keep a person on their toes. Whether it were goblins, geese, or gold, there was always something, and only rarely something good; some small but frustratingly vocal part of Anders still couldn’t entirely trust that the recent windfall wasn’t biding its time until disappearing would do most damage. The latest twist, however, was probably the most irksome to date (though the enforced honesty gave it a run for its money). It could have been far worse, granted, had the demons been the sort to linger and reform, but even so, it was rather emphatically Their Problem.
So it was with some trepidation (and, despite Justice’s apparently bottomless well of motivation, more than a little weariness) that he answered Hawke’s summons, because there was a not-insignificant chance that whatever surprise she had in store would turn out to be a new and different sort of awful. His shoulders were hunched, his renegade’s garb still spotted with ichor, and his face betrayed quite how tired the vessel was, though he summoned a smile on seeing Hawke herself.
“Hey. So. Why are we here?”
---
She always worried when she noticed how tired Anders looked. It wasn’t as awful as it had been back in Kirkwall (mainly because she suspected that in those few weeks Before he’d just Not Slept), and she knew where the blame was. Which is why she made a note to get Anders to actually take five minutes, or to sleep. Justice called her a distraction, and she was good at it. To her the skeletons weren’t something truly bad (except the implications but she was playing a helpful game of ignoring those). Annoying, yes. Bad? Not really considering their slow speed made them easy pickings. But she’d not mentioned this advice, considering it would not be helpful.
“You need rest. Which we’re doing after. Justice can add it to his long list of complaints against Hawke.” Gently she went to pry some of the ichor off his coat. “S’nothing bad just look at the sign.” For all its weirdness the Emporium had always been a source of excellent materials, and she’d found Xenon terribly hilarious, but going in it alone sounded like it might not be the greatest of plans.
---
"This isn't his fault, love." He caught her fingers as they brushed his lapel, giving them a reassuring squeeze. "This is me fretting over what happens when the Queen Of Hell decides to befriend all these Poor Maligned Demons." Sabrina's heart was in the right place, of that he had little doubt, but the last thing the Outlander community needed was an influx of Abominations casting shadows over their worthiness to be trusted with magic (and yes, he fully appreciated the irony there, thanks).
He squinted up at the sign she indicated.
"... huh." A beat passed. "I guess, sure, why not? Makes about as much sense as anything else. You been inside yet?"
----
She sighed and let her fingers curl around his, “he’s so easy to blame though.” But his mention of Sabrina did raise a point. She liked Sabrina, the younger woman was frightfully powerful but had one of those truly good hearts (which as she knew it was odd considering Sabrina’s Actual Job). “She’s young. And she wants to help.” And Sabrina hadn’t technically been wrong either. “All we can do is explain how because it’s a skeleton there’s no direct way of seeing if a demon can go back to being a spirit.”
She glanced to the sign and shook her head, “Xenon was able to hide the place from a city full of Templars, and keep that going through the Inquisition if what I hear from the Inquisitor is correct, so it seemed like less of a good idea to go in alone.” She used her free hand to take a key out of her pocket before looking back at him, “even with this.” She gave him a smile then, “C’mon adventure time. I always enjoyed Xenon’s remarks. He’s hilarious.”
---
He could feel the beginnings of a lecture on the difference between Demon and Spirit starting to bubble (and that, at least, Justice entirely deserved blaming for, because he had Opinions) and forced it down, focusing instead on the sign, the key and the feel of her fingers on his.
"He always did have the best stuff, too. Might actually get to put some of that gold to use." Anders returned the grin.
---
“There’s an idea,” to her the gold he’d found was his so she’d offered a few suggestions on how it could be used but hadn’t done much more. Anders had never had anything, the least he deserved was to use the gold however he saw fit. With a smile she turned to the building, using the key to let herself in. She let her free hand rest on the pommel of her sword, but only lightly because she’d never wanted to tangle with the golem Xenon kept around, as she pushed the door open.
She was wary, only because anyone powerful enough to stay hidden in a city ruled by the Most Paranoid Bitch Alive deserved being wary of, and she didn’t fully relax when she stopped inside. None of the torches were lit, and she didn’t hear Xenon’s droll comments but one of the things she’d learned quickly was that just because something looked empty, it didn’t mean that it always was.
Even when she stepped into the main room and saw the chair empty she didn’t completely relax. “This feels...odd. How cursed are we here?”
---
He followed, as ever, in her wake; a simple gesture enkindled the torches, coaxing them into life and casting flickering light across the chamber.
"Not as cursed as we're going to be if Xenon finds out we were here without him…" He glanced about the now-candlelit interior, oddly devoid of golem, urchin or immortal proprietor. He waited a few beats, expecting at least one of them to materialise. "So we know Vallo pulls through places as well as people, maybe it decides you deserved-"
Anders trailed off, gaze lighting on a new acquisition since the last time they'd visited. Caged, crystalline, features contorted . Wonderful.
"- that." He concluded, after a long pause, pointing in the direction of Knight-Commander Meredith (or what remained of her, at least). "That's much more in line with how this week's going."
---
The place felt eerie. Granted it always was because Xenon was Eerie on a good day but empty like this it felt like it had lost something. Granted she was fairly sure that such a feeling would be limited to those who knew what was missing. She was willing to bet that anyone who didn’t know who walked in would think it a delightful little place.
She had plenty to say on what she deserved, but all thoughts scattered when she noticed what he was pointing at. She released him and stepped towards it, taking her sword out. “Anders,” she was Too Calm really. He might be the one to think of a plan to see Chantries explode but he wasn’t the only one fueled by that sort of fire. And usually hers burned bright, the brightest had been when she’d found her Mother, but this was different. She’d gone beyond anger.
“This is inert, isn’t it?” Even when she’d found the idol, back in the day, she’d heard the hum. It had been almost too quiet to hear as she was neither Templar nor mage but she’d still heard it. When she’d fought with the Inquisition, she’d heard the other Red Lyrium do similar. This thing was quiet. And sure she could let it be in it’s cage, a perfect punishment for the woman who’d thrown so many behind bars, but Meredith didn’t deserve that benefit. All Meredith deserved, In Hawke’s eyes, was destruction.
---
“It’s not singing, no.” Which was a small blessing, at least; the itchy, too-tight feeling beginning to course over his skin - his own inner fire somewhat more literal than hers and starting to seep through in slithers of ethereal Fade-born light, his voice beginning to take on the faint tinge of an otherworldly timbre - was bad enough without the overwhelming discordant thrum of red lyrium behind it. To say nothing of the disaster they’d probably have on their hands if the local magic-rich populace were exposed to that much of the blasted stuff.
Was this justice? Or perhaps closer to vengeance? The symbolism pleased him, certainly, in as much as his passenger was ever pleased by anything - to see her rendered a soulless husk after having so readily invoked Annulment and rendered so many Tranquil, caged as she had imprisoned the mages in their Circles. Smashing her also felt like a pleasing end, as did the other hundred or so horrific fates he’d imagined while a rogue Apostate in Kirkwall.
And yet… And yet he found himself putting a hand on her shoulder, hesitant rather than exultant. “Xenon wouldn’t have kept it without reason. We find that out first.”
---
"Xenon keeps things because they amuse him", which to her current thinking was the thing that stood out the most. Xenon sold things yes, but the things he kept were for amusement sake. She pointed to the statue with her sword. Perhaps she wasn't just talking to Anders, which was probably unfair of her, but to the other part of him who would get her anger.
"That does not get the courtesy of finding out the why. Not with what she did. If you want me to let this go, I will need a very good reason. Because otherwise that thing is going to get the ending it deserves. And Xenon can bill me for the difference.” As the years had passed in Kirkwall her anger had gotten the upper hand. Her time in the Inquisition, in the face of magisters who did the very worst they could possibly do, all to resurrect a glory that had been dead for ages, hadn’t exactly curbed that.
But she wasn’t just doing what she wanted. Like he listened to her, she listened to him. Just right now her anger was ruling her more than anything.
--
That part heard, and did not disagree; if anything, it chafed at the hesitation just as much.Hawke was right, this was what Meredith so richly deserved, and it would feel so good, wouldn’t it? So uncomplicatedly Just?
(Was this how Justice usually felt, faced with their customary frustrating unity? If so, his churlishness suddenly made an awful lot more sense.)
“I… get that.” Inhale. Exhale. Force down the urge to just start smashing. “Believe me, I would like nothing more. But it’s Not Singing. You get how weird that is, right?” Carefully, he stepped round, placing himself between her and the statue; he could feel his legs shaking, the hot-tight-itch worsening as both sides contested for dominion. “Love, if he’s figured out a way to Turn Off red lyrium… that’s something we need to know. Know, and tell everyone else, so whoever goes back can take that with them.”
----
“Maybe Vallo just decided that it’s not putting up with that bullshit.” Given how magic rich the entire place was, it wouldn’t surprise her. But she was seeing the point that if it wasn’t Vallo and Xenon was just that much of a Bastard it was something worth noting. And Xenon had hid the Emporium in Kirkwall for over ten years. Sure people had stumbled on it, even when they’d gone looking, but never intentionally. It didn’t seem that far fetched he’d found a way to ensure the blasted thing didn’t attract attention.
She lowered her sword though. “I’m finding a cover to put over that cage. No one knows about her outside us.” It wasn’t just Sabrina that advocated second chances, and she’d snap at those who’d make the suggestion to un-statue Meredith and let her roam free. Meredith wasn’t just responsible for the deaths, and worse, of hundreds of people. To Hawke, Meredith was just as culpable as Orsino had been in her Mother’s death. “And the minute I can, that thing stops existing.”
“And she goes somewhere else. I’m not having her lay around.” She was less Angry, and more Tired. And feeling hurt no one in the Inquisition had thought to mention this particular detail. She found a cover and handed it over before going to the chests. She sheathed her sword before crouching next to it. The materials were still there. At least some of them. And it was helping her calm down.
---
“Agreed. On all three counts.” he-that-was-they replied, the part that wasn’t human ringing through the words. “It is asking a lot.”
And Anders (just Anders, though he was never really just Anders, the division never as distinct as everyone kept insisting), steadied himself against his staff, head spinning for that handful of heartbeats as the balance of power ebbed and flowed.
“We don’t have to tell anyone about this. Xenon’s not here, the key came to you… Having a space that the rest of Vallo doesn’t know about isn’t the worst plan given...“ He trailed off, letting his opinion of their comrades’ recent ridiculous conduct hang unspoken, before glancing over in Hawke’s direction. “Anything interesting?”
----
She and Justice agreed on more than people thought. Her only objection was the whole ‘Anders needs sleep and food’ bit, and the fact she encouraged him to be a bit selfish. “Bit more than a lot.” She was still feeling a bit cranky, but she sighed and set her palms to her eyes. “But you’ve got a point.”
She dropped them to open the other chests. Xenon could bill her, as she was feeling just spiteful enough. “Plenty. Embrium, some elfroot, some cloth and metal in a few of these.” She frowned, “no Lyrium because Maker forbid our lives are easy. Only a few health potions.” She gave a noise of approval as she opened the other chest. “This makes up for it.” She wasn’t sure how all the chests held the weapons, but she wasn’t going to ask. “Few staves in here. Somehow.”
She debated a few moments before glancing at him. “Or we could take what we wanted, hide what people shouldn’t see and well,” she motioned around, “it’s not raising dogs. Hell, Brigitte could look over these schematics even. We could work out a trade.” She looked around and shrugged, “always rich ponces who want to spend too much coin on what they think is unique, right?”
---
“You’re right, it’s not raising dogs…” And that there was definitely A Conversation waiting in the wings, because while he tried not to think too much about it that future (and his conviction that it was unequivocally the best course of action) was slipping away by inches the longer Dorian took to finalise his plans. Did it even exist any more, or had they already missed some unspoken deadline?
He leant back against the shelves, watching her work through the boxes. “Do you think… could you be happy with that? Selling tat to people with more money than sense, keeping the really interesting stuff out of their hands?”
----
Hawke had never really lived beyond many moments, except in Kirkwall. And even there she’d never found something that appealed to her sense of finding her purpose. There’d always been someone who needed her, something that needed doing, and that wasn’t as needed here. Following the sense of the future, even vague, was still her goal.
“Why not? I could learn some business sense, or hire someone who could do it.” She gave as she rose, handing him some of the herbs. She knew he could make more use of it then she could. “It’s that or keep all of it to ourselves, which seems a bit of a waste. This could be used to help the others too. I know Vallo likes dropping things on us to...well I figure make us happy. Or just because. Maybe I’m looking for reasons where there aren’t any. But aye. This I could do.”
----
“The phrase you’re looking for is ‘as a bribe’, love.” He still didn’t trust the ‘gifts’ Vallo kept bestowing, especially given how they inevitably seemed to turn up just as they found their satisfaction with staying put beginning to waver; he did, however, concede to flashing her a slight, affectionate smile as she handed the herbs over. “This place wants us to be complacent and satisfied, I’m sure of it. It just doesn’t entirely know how to achieve that.”
Holding one of the sprigs up, turning it this way and that in the flickering torch light, he examined the haul. “I’m sure Varric would help with the whole ‘business sense’ thing. Probably want to take stock first, pick out the things we don’t want the likes of Sabrina knowing about…”
---
She waved her hand, “as someone who regularly dished out bribes to help keep people complacent, I'll take this one.” She got his dissatisfaction though, and didn’t disagree that it wasn’t a bribe. But considering the fact that everything else was so random around here, the offering of things and places seemed the least the chaos of the place could do.
“So our caged thing goes. We can helpfully forget about her.” Putting it somewhere dark sounded just spiteful enough, at least until she could break it. “I think I saw Cailan’s painting around, but we’ll take stock like you said.” She went to take his hand, “look at it this way. Maker only knows what Xenon actually had. We might find something that benefits us.”
---
"Oh, I don't doubt that. I just…"
He paused, sighed, flashed her another, wearer smile. "I'm sorry, love. This whole Skeleton thing is getting to us, that's all. If we were home now? Maker help me, none of them would last five minutes into their Harrowing."
----
For as much of a shit Justice could be (and she’d be first to admit that he was), she knew he also cared. In his own, weird Spirit way, and she sighed as she listened. “Oh love.” She meant both of them, really. She couldn’t explain the weird Thing any more than anyone else but she did care. She did feel Justice might be happier outside of Anders, feeling the Spirit might just be a bit limited, because she worried just as much. She couldn’t help that. Ten years with someone did that to you.
She went to tug him down to sit with her. “I worry too.” She went to set her free hand on his cheek. “Be thankful we’re not at home, is all I have. You can only say something so much. They don’t know and we can’t force them. We can show them, and tell them.” She smiled, somewhat tiredly, “it’s not always up to you.” She gave gently.
“What’d make you both feel better? Within the limits of the whole people will only listen if they want to. I know it’s not,” she waved her hand, “great but I learned that one the hard way. All you’ll do is pluck out your own feathers. You know I’ll listen.” Considering her way of dealing with things was hitting something, offering this was something she’d gladly do.
---
Sitting beside her he sighed, closing his eyes as her hand lighted on his cheek. A long moment passed, before he seemed to deflate slightly, shaking his head as he glanced to her. "I don't know? We don't know, I guess. It's just… you read the manifesto - Andraste's ass, you must have known it as well as I did, the amount of time that went into that thing. We cannot hope to govern ourselves if we cannot be trusted not to do Exactly This. If the Natives decide we can't be trusted, then… And if they keep conflating Spirits and Demons, and…"
Another sigh. He pinched his brow. "Sorry. I'm… We're tired, that's all. Been here long enough the shine's wearing off. It's fine. Nobody's going to sic Templars on us just yet, right?"
----
“I did, yes.” More than once she wished people had listened and read it as well. If people had listened then, things would be so much different now. “First of all you know that’s not something I will allow. If any Templar just as much looks as if it shows up they won’t get to enjoy breathing for much longer.” There’d be some exceptions to that rule (Cullen, reluctantly, because he at least seemed to be turning somewhat of a new leaf. She still didn’t trust him, but she’d give him the benefit of doubt. Thrask, maybe) but she knew that any Templar would look at the collection of mages here and try and hurt them.
“Trust I will always stand in the way of any Templar. They’d have to get through me. And I’m the Champion,” she gave with her best cocky grin. “I took on the Arishok. And I have tricks. No one’s going to hurt you, or any of the others. I’d swear on the Maker but well, our relationship isn’t great.”
“I think you’re relating this too much to home though. I know we’re pushing things, but so far I’m not hearing grumblings. And we can set this place up as a listening post, and a place of refuge if it makes you feel any better.” She was trying, and still worried. “As for the tired, we can go do something selfish. It’ll help.”
---
She was right. Of course she was right. And maybe one day he'd stop listening for plate boots on cobbles and heavy fists on tavern doors… but probably not. Some habits were incredibly hard to break, and assuming mages would get the short and likely unpleasantly spiked end of any stick was one of them.
"I don't know what we did to deserve you, love" he ventured, with another small smile.
---
Smiling, she leaned forward to kiss his forehead. “You were yourselves. Plus you’re really very cute.” She added with a wink. “And y’know. Hawke tradition to run away with the apostate.” The last was more a joke than anything. She winked before going to nudge him. “C’mon there must be something you both can agree on is fun to get your head out of all this.”
She motioned around, “literal abundance of things here to sort through.” He indulged her plenty so it was only fair she returned the favor. After all these years she still wasn’t too sure what Justice thought of as ‘fun’ (if he even got that) but she did try. Sometimes she worried he felt a bit of a passenger, rather than a part of it all, and there were times she felt bad about that.
---
Her compliment elicited a short burst of laughter. “Right” he grinned, returning the nudge - “I forgot you were Irredeemably Insane. Tragic really.” - the smile wavering slightly in the moments that followed as he tried to think of something to meet her criteria.
“I… don’t think Justice is going to be much fun until we know the Demon Problem is dealt with, but yes, you’re right. There’s probably a saying about not looking… creepy abandoned shops full of Maker-alone-knows-what in the face, isn’t there?” Pulling himself back to his feet, he extended a hand to aid her in doing the same. “Come on then. Let’s get started.”
----