high street ( a his dark materials gpsl ) (highstreet) wrote in belorelogs, @ 2015-03-15 01:20:00 |
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Seven nights and barely any sleep. Any more of these nightmares and Hawke was going to either fall over or become a darkspawn, and neither option seemed all that appealing. She’d figured the late-night terror reminders would have tapered off by now, lingering shadows from a close call that made her stomach churn. No such luck. But that presumed Hawke had any luck to speak of at this point, which was a debate she’d rather leave to the rest of the world.
Still, keeping busy helped. Hawke was by no means a stranger to putting her staff aside and getting her hands dirty—so to speak, anyway. Growing up on a farm during the Fifth Blight taught you a thing or two about survival. When she arrived in this place (and made sure she wasn’t actually dead this time), her first course of action might have been a little more reckless than usual. Emptying the hefty bag of gold that had come with her, she put her name down on a little blot of a building that had clearly seen better days. If Hawke were being honest, the place reminded her of how she felt. Dirty, cheap, but still standing. Fitting, then, that she'd be the one moving in to try and make it whole again.
It took six days of hard work to scrub the place clean and start stocking the bar. A few of the locals had been nice enough to donate odds and ends to the décor, and for what little time had passed, The Hanged Man was starting to feel more like home. There were days that were harder than others, like that afternoon cutting spider demons down and having to relive the glory of the Fade all over again, but she was getting there. Progress was progress. Hawke was currently surveying her very fine handiwork right now, sitting on the bar itself and taking inventory.