InsaneJournal

Who: Anders (And Justice) & Hawke
Where: Their room
When: A few hours after this
What: Reunion
Status: Complete (It also ended up really long)
Warnings: Mentions of events of DA 2, mentions of Tranquility and it's cure being kept secret, language, mentions of promised violence, some vague mentions of Dragon Age: Inquisition, ftb

In truth, Hawke wasn’t nearly as drunk as she was letting on. There had been times where she’d gotten herself completely smashed, but those had always been in safe spaces. The Hanged Man was Varric’s territory, and she’d always been assured a place in Varric’s suite. And home, had been home. But in a place where she knew no one, and understood even fewer of what was going on it hadn’t sounded like a good idea to let her wariness drop. But pretending to be drunk wasn’t hard, she had Isabela to thank for that one, and she’d just made her speech a bit more slurred, and her footsteps more uneven. Make Yourself A Target was still a skillset she relied heavily on and while she was left alone on her journey to the quarters they’d given her if people didn’t take her seriously they’d never expect it when she came out swinging. It was a defense mechanism Kirkwall had burned into her bones. There she’d been just Hawke, Champion yes, but one with ill timed jokes that made the occasions when she did act in anger all the more solid. And while the jokes had faded over the years, the reputation she’d had had made it so that when she’d threatened Meredith to keep Leandra’s name out of her authoritarian mouth even the Templar Bitch had been taken aback. Here it was very little effort to keep that going. Old habits. So she pretended to struggle with the door and stumbled inside, glancing to the beds. Too clean, really, and she was clearly meant to be sharing. She’d shared with Beth in Lothering and that had been fine, but if one could put up with Gamlen of all people as a roommate a relative stranger should be alright. With a sigh she flopped onto the bed, face down. She was still able to deck someone if it was needed, but no need to be outright hostile to someone right off the bat. Unless it was a Templar. She listened for the sound of another person, figuring tomorrow she could figure out what was actually going on. --- To say Anders was uncomfortable with this entire situation was… something of an understatement. The summary he’d managed to glean from Sypha read like a Greatest Hits of ‘things guaranteed to drive both man and spirit into apoplexy’, and a not inconsiderable part of him was screaming to just take his chances beyond the island, figure out how to get back to the Rebellion once he was clear of it. A louder (if not necessarily larger) part, however, reasoned that, Spirit or no Spirit, he was no longer the same boy who swam away from Kinloch, and he should at the least have a few hours of sleep and a solid meal inside him before he attempted a repeat performance. (He tried to ignore how much that louder voice sounded like Hawke. How long had it been, since she left? Days bled together (which rather proved the voice’s point), a muddled mess of missing hours and ever-more-insistent whispers. Whispers he hadn’t, he realised, heard since arriving wherever this was. Thank the Maker for small mercies?) He reached Room 107, which according to the glowing box (computer, Sypha had called it) was where his captors intended he should reside, biting back the urge to find somewhere else out of petulance and spite; better, for now, that they should think him calm and compliant. His reputation did not, thus far, seem to precede him. Sypha had warned him that he might not be alone, and so he sighed, summoned a smile that did not quite reach his eyes, and rapped his knuckles on the door, waiting for any sound of movement within. --- It was odd how little and how much she was hearing at the same time. Hawke was used to noise. Kirkwall had never been completely silent, and even behind the solid walls of the estate she’d still heard the voice of the city, along with the soft murmurs of the house itself. Bodahn and Sandal had always been chattering among themselves, and once Orana had joined them (and consequently had learned no one was going to hurt her if she did speak) it had always been an undercurrent of familiar noise. There had been, of course, the absence of one of those in later years but still. Now there was a faint buzzing she couldn’t place and try as she might there was very little noise outside of this room. She could hear shuffling, so maybe it was a case of just getting used to her new environment. Learning it’s tricks was the first thing. Second was to learn how it worked, which entailed finding it’s cracks. There were always some. When she heard the knock she raised her head. A visitor or whoever shared these quarters? She couldn’t be sure. She debated between calling out and getting up, and settled on the latter. “Gimme a minute.” No weapons but maybe she’d not need one. And those chairs looked sturdy enough, just in case. She made her way, still unsteadily to the door and opened it. She had her best ‘pleased to meet you, how can I get you to give me coin’ smile on, which dropped almost immediately as she took stock. She’d been doing her Very Best to ignore how much she’d missed him, how worried she was, and now felt like she’d conjured him. She stared for a long time, then opened her mouth. “I know I didn’t drink that much.” Maybe making bad jokes wasn’t as much a pretend as she liked to think. --- His own smile guttered and then faded entirely, one hand moving to steady himself against the doorframe in case his legs made good on their threat to buckle under him at the unexpected sight. "Hey, you." His tone was wary, uncertain, gaze still flitting over her trying to find some sign this was all a horrible trick. He had, after all, made the mistake of bringing her to mind, as if he was some idiot novice about to dramatically fail their Harrowing. Perhaps the hotel's first steps hadn't been quite so clumsy after all, and Desire or Sloth or whoever was behind this was playing the long game, waiting for him to drop his guard exactly like this. "It is you, right?" --- It was such an Anders thing to ask, and really a perfectly valid one really. The Fade was a tricky thing, and while this didn’t feel nor look like it to her the opposite might not be true. And she had just been in Weisshaupt, elbow deep in Grey Warden mess. Who even knew anything anymore? Still she stared at him, giving a small sound at the question. Without him, time had stretched and felt empty. Considering the alternative, she’d taken it but still. Still “Think so. No good answers, right?” Hesitantly she reached out to touch him, to set a hand on his shoulders. “Are you real?” She wasn’t a mage and the likelihood a demon could mess with her was limited, but not impossible. And her luck was just bad enough for it. --- "Real as I've ever been. Last I checked, anyway." A small, fragile smile flickered uncertainly on his lips, hope warring with doubt for dominion, his hand settling above hers on instinct, thumb idly stroking the back of her fingers. Justice would know, wouldn't he? If this were all a trick. A human could be fooled - most of the time, a human wanted to be fooled - but Justice was a creature of the Fade. Surely he'd be able to tell? Anders let himself be pushed aside, expression shifting from nervously hopeful to calmly assessing, a faint shimmer of Fade-touched flame coursing through his veins and bleeding into his gaze. "I missed you." Two voices at once, Justice's level, measured tones cracking ever-so-slightly at the edges into Anders' notably less composed ones. ---- The touch was oddly grounding, and comforting. For a non-mage she’d spend a decent time in the Fade, and so while the previous thought that a demon could only mess with her in a limited amount still held, especially because she’d known how it felt. The dream-scape had felt fuzzy, and nothing there had touched her. The reality had felt cloyingly cool and wet and while plenty of things had tried to touch her it hadn’t been like this. She watched hopefully, curling her fingers around his before she noticed the shift. No matter what, she doubted any demon could pull that sort of image off. At the sound of the two voices she gave a soft sound, almost a sob but not quite, and stepped forward to set her free arm around him and her head on his shoulder. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed you,” her voice was a little muffled, cracked at the edges. She didn’t often lose her composure in public, but she hadn’t seen him for years and had been stuck in an odd limbo of worry and loneliness ever since. --- "I think I can hazard a guess." His arm moved from braced against the frame to wrapped around her in turn, at first an awkward attempt at a reassuring pat, then as the internal balance shifted again a tight embrace. A long moment passed, in which he was content just to drink in the sensation of holding her (he could not say precisely, or even vaguely, how long it had been, but he knew it was Too Long), before he spoke again. "Why are… How are you here, love?" --- It was a little funny, really, how well she knew the difference between the two. Justice was always so formal and awkward, while Anders wasn’t. When the embrace shifted she could tell who was who and smiled into it. She had missed him, terribly even. She curled her fingers into his feathers, holding him close. There wasn’t a force strong enough that would let him go now. She didn’t care if the world needed saving again or corypheus found another way to cheat death. Next time she’d bring him with her. They’d figure something out, and everyone could just deal. His question made her chuckle and she inhaled his scent. Everything was settling into place, filling the cracks. “Haven’t a clue. I was in Weisshaupt,” and that had been an experience of it’s own and one she didn’t much care to repeat. She’d wished she’d had a bit of Justice with her then, mostly because she’d wanted to tear the Wardens down by their ears. The only thing that had saved them was the faint rumblings that they were already vastly doomed for the next Blight, and her bringing them further down would help no one. “And now I’m here.” She raised her head, looking at him. “You’re alright, yeah?” Defeating that Fear Demon had made it so the False Calling had ended, according to everyone there, but it hadn’t stopped the worry. --- "Aside from the whole 'kidnapped by ghosts and stuck on an island nobody escapes from' part, you mean?" He grinned wryly, though there was an edge to his tone - a gravitas to words like 'kidnapped' and 'stuck' - that more than hinted at Justice's (and his own, to be frank) displeasure with the situation. "Yes, we're…" A beat. 'Fine' would probably have been an overstatement, and he'd been making a conscious effort not to hide things from her since The Whole Chantry Thing, even when said things were likely not what she wanted to hear. Besides, it was likely clear to see, between the gauntness of his frame and the shadows under his eyes, that he'd fallen back on Old Habits in her absence. "Justice has been doing most of the heavy lifting" he clarified "but we're alright. Better than, now you're here." --- That was a bit more then she’d figured out, although granted her approach to situations she didn’t know was to wait and see. He was the one who could look for ways out. “Well,” her tone was wry and almost joking. “That’s new at least. Not blood mages or demons.” Which was generally the two things that kept happening around Kirkwall. Granted the few times she’d dealt with what was supposedly ghosts the demon thing happened. But it was something to be figured out. The underlying cause might not be obvious right away. And while she wasn’t without knowledge, she didn’t always know what to look for. He did though, and she was sure they could figure things out. She went to set one hand on his cheek, noting how worn he looked. She sighed, because she could tell Justice was forgetting things like how food was necessary again. But she was more concerned about other matters, so she studied him. No black veins, at least. Maker only knew how much of that ‘heavy lifting’ that actually was. “If I knew you were here too I’d have gone looking.” She hadn’t considered her luck that great really, and her mind had been going through a variety of things. She felt bad for that. She should have considered it. “C’mon sit down? And tell me what all is going on around here.” Her own way of dealing with things was probably not great and she was oddly cognizant of how much she had drunk, and so she probably shouldn’t be giving him too much grief about not looking after himself too well. --- He studied her face as she examined his, realising after a confused moment or two what she was looking for, and breathing an inward sigh of relief when she didn't find it. He'd had nightmares enough, once the whispers started (of ashen skin and tar-like blood, of scraps of flesh caught between yellowed teeth) and sometimes those spilled across the Veil and lingered for a heartbeat or two when he caught his reflection. Justice had done what he could to hold back the tide, but sometimes a trickle made it through even his unyielding aegis. "It's alright." He turned his face slightly, pressing a kiss to her palm. "We found each other eventually, didn't we?" Her suggestion got a slight nod, and he untangled himself from the remnants of their embrace and stepped into the room. It was… not unpleasant, all things considered, though he could feel Justice hissing about gilded cages. "So… what have you figured out so far? Aside from where the bar is?" He flashed her a teasing grin. --- She smiled at him and reassured herself at the feel of skin beneath her palm he was real and here before letting go. “Always will.” She was assured of that much at least, that at least this part of her life could be lucky. That she’d earned this little bit of happiness at least. At least now she’d not have to trek along Thedas, following the Rebellion until they were reunited. Maybe the Maker smiled on her a little, at least. She closed the door behind him and gave a grin at the comment. Fair, really. But the Hanged Man had been where she’d found a good portion of her intel, so she’d rather hoped it was similar. And she’d rather felt like the drink she’d had had settled her a little. “Bar’s quiet, unfortunately. And wasn’t my brightest idea,” she gave with a shrug. “Place reeks of money though,” she gave as she sat down. She picked up on the oddest things, and knew it. “No one charges for the drinks. Corff is weeping and doesn’t know why,” she added with a smirk, “no one cares what you drink. Which is odd. Only free drinks I’ve ever had were at Chateau Haine and I’m still not sure if those were poisoned.” Given it had been terribly Orlesian, that wasn’t a bad bet to make. She gestured around the room. “Claims to be an inn, but no inn I know is this fancy.” Small, yes, but the blankets felt like they’d come straight from whatever market there might be. “Haven’t done a full tour but from what I’ve seen? Money. And ghosts, apparently. Which, I take it to mean the Fade’s thin here?” She could never tell, so she relied on his expertise. “And you say we’re trapped? So if there’s a gate or whatever, it’ll need finding.” she motioned to the box that had put her thoughts out. Like a diary really. Except a whole lot more public then the one everyone had made notes in. “Everyone’s friendly, the one’s I met. I’ll have to talk more, see what’s up. Didn’t get any word from any Chantry associates or Templars,” she added. She’d expected someone to come calling, considering. “So they’re quiet.” Her intel gathering was a little different then most, but it worked for her. “What about you?” --- He perched next to her, brow furrowing slightly as he reviewed what she was saying against his own findings, until it came his turn to speak. "Well. Point one, we're not in the Fade, but I think you'd figured that out already? I'm not sure Thin is the right word either, though, so much as Busy. Busy and Loud. Which makes very little sense, I know, but if the Veil were thin, then… it would feel a lot more homely, you know?" He shrugged, leaning back slightly, gaze tilted towards the ceiling. "Point two. Sypha - have you met her yet? - suggested that there's people from Entirely Different Worlds here. Which if it's true puts whoever is controlling this a few orders of magnitude bigger than we're used to dealing with. Not that we aren't going to ruin their plans regardless." "And point three, something happens if you try to escape the island. Sypha was vague on the specifics, beyond 'you don't get far'. I'd been considering trying anyway, Learn By Doing and all, but" - he glanced back over at her, fingers of the hand nearest her seeking and entwining with her own; casually taunting his own demise like that suddenly didn't feel like such a great idea - "we probably need more information." A beat. "Also there's no staff in this Inn, but possibly vampires and definitely other mages. And Sypha at least probably suspects I'm not alone in here" - he tapped his temple with his free hand - "so that's one edge lost already." --- “Lot less green,” she offered to the comment about the Fade but it was nice to have more confirmation. And he was clearly fine, so there had to be something of that. Then again, considering what she’d found out, via Varric, of the Seekers and that entire mess it was quite possible that anyone coming after him with a brand, if she wasn’t there to put a sword in them, might just end up having a really Bad Day. Which was probably something she ought to mention, once they’d sorted out this mess. She curled her fingers around his as she took stock. The name didn’t sound familiar so she shook her head, making sense of all the details. “Could be a something too. When I went looking for why all the Wardens were suddenly getting the Calling I did find answers. Which turned out to be a demon.” She still wasn’t sure how that had happened. How Fear could have warped so much, considering it hadn’t been a fear of the Calling but something more similar to the real thing.” A big one, mind, so this doesn’t exclude that option.” She couldn’t quite figure out how the other worlds thing fit into that though. If it was just the two of them she could see it more. She looked at him then, frowning. “That’s a little vague for my tastes. ‘Something’ has too many meanings behind it. Poking at beehives is one thing but,” she frowned, worrying. At least he was willing to look into it more. “There’s a chance others have tried. Let’s look into that.” She frowned, not too keen about people knowing. Justice was a handy third to have in their corner, when it came down to it. “Not if she doesn’t know details.” Justice wasn’t great at subtle but there was a difference between knowing he was there and knowing what he was capable of. “We’ll just be vague. If she asks we can always use the excuse that Justice is a passenger who gets a bit showy.” She wasn’t sure if Justice would like it and it wasn’t like she was keen on hiding either but the less people looked the more they could get away with. She frowned then, other mages were great but. “Vampires?” She’d heard of the hunger demons who got into people and had them drain blood but if they were around she suspected very few would be so casual about it. “Right. Always interesting, at least.” --- Her comment about something, rather than someone, being behind this earned her a look, though mercifully not an accompanying lecture - Justice, unsurprisingly, had Opinions about the personhood of Spirits (and, grudgingly, by extension other denizens of the Fade). And also about Untruths, though he’d at least begun to accept the necessity of occasional obfuscation in the service of the greater good, which figuring out a way back to Thedas definitely qualified as. “Interesting is definitely a word…” He shrugged lightly, though the way his smile wavered hinted that he wasn’t quite as blase about all this as his tone would suggest. “I think that’s the smart place to start, though. Find out what other people have tried, why that didn’t work.” He squeezed her fingers. “We’ll figure something out, love. Hasn’t been a prison built yet that could hold me for long.” --- That made her smile because he was right. He was good at finding ways out, and they’d spend enough time after Kirkwall dodgin others she had a good opinion of their chances. And perhaps it was a little like Kirkwall, where she’d had no option but to make the best of it. Still, she’d had a choice. Granted the choices had been between Kirkwall and the darkspawn but it wasn’t like she couldn’t have picked another boat. Here she had even less choices, and that didn’t sit well with her. She went to raise his hand so she could kiss the back of it. Now there was something of a plan she fell back into thinking about the things she’d learned. The problem was; it’d break his heart. She never doubted he loved her, but he’d also come to Kirkwall for love. And she’d nearly gone to break a few of Cassandra’s bones because of this truth (Varric, ironically, had stopped her. Something about debts) and she didn’t need to have Justice to know of the grave injustice done. So many souls could have been saved. She slumped a little because they’d both promised to be more open about things, and this was not a truth she could keep from him. If he learned it from anyone else, he might never forgive her. And she’d not blame him. “I learned something.” She was quiet, remembering the look in his eyes after their first real mission together. She remembered how she’d felt after too. She hadn’t let go of Beth for hours. “How much do you know about Seekers?” It was a bit of a cop out, and unfair but she didn’t know how else to start. She took a long breath and looked at him. “This is bad. I can’t keep this from you, but it’s bad.” --- “Seekers? They’re… we heard rumours, in the Circle? An order that watches the Templars, right? Steps in if they go too far… or if one of Us becomes too big a threat. They’re not real, though… are they?” Noting the shift in her demeanour his brow furrowed; he shifted closer, untangling his fingers from hers so he could slide that arm around her, the other hand moving to cup her cheek. The actual meat of what she was saying only vaguely registered, his main concern being that whatever it was clearly had her upset. “... whatever it is, love, we’ll deal with it. You and me.” A beat, and he grinned. “Unless this is you telling me you’ve been inducted into the Super Secret Templars-But-Worse Club. That might be a bridge too far.” He leant in to press a kiss to her forehead. --- She leaned into his touch and the kiss. She had no real right to be upset, because this hadn’t, by all technicalities, involved her. At least that was the argument made by some, and one that cropped up, even as she told herself she was very much in the right. Her father, sister, lover, Merrill even had always lived under a fear of something worse than death. “No nothing like that.” There were times even she couldn’t make the jokes. She took a moment before setting her head in her hands. “They are real. Very. There was one looking for me. Varric kept her off my trail. Our trail, really. I don’t know much else.” She kept leaning into him knowing that soon he might need her. Still, she couldn’t quite bear to look at him. She couldn’t watch the heartbreak. “They don’t need lyrium, like Templars do. They can, however, do anything a Templar can. Varric says it looked cleaner? S’not really important, the thing is they can smite without the lyrium.” She lowered her hands and stared at them, turning them over to look at her palms. “Varric doesn’t know the full details, but the Seeker he knows told him this; they go into seclusion and make themselves Tranquil.” She couldn’t quite see how that’s possible, which probably meant she’d never be one of them. A good thing, really. “They do this for an indeterminate amount of time. Until they get attention. Something about it draws Spirits. And those Spirits help them.” She curled her hands into fists. The terrible truth of it all burned her, as was knowing they kept it secret as apparently it had just been for them. To hell with anyone else. “The Spirits make those Seekers whole again.” She was sure he could follow her, put the two together. “They can brand you,” she looked to the wall feeling oddly empty. “But they’d never make you Tranquil, I think.” She was still quiet, feeling the weight of Kirkwall on her shoulders. It felt so wrong, that the Seekers had this option, but chose to keep it secret. She doubted even the Templars knew. --- For a moment, he couldn’t understand why she was so conflicted about this. Maker help him, he was actually relieved. For so long the threat of Tranquility had been the Worst Possible Case Scenario, and the likelihood the Templars would jump straight to that had been high enough before Kirkwall, when his only crime had been exhausting their patience. He almost - almost - laughed, equal parts relieved and amused by the ridiculousness of her concern. And then it hit him what she was actually saying, and the laugh died in his throat, becoming a strangled, piteous thing instead. He pulled back, gaze fixed on the floor, colour draining from his features. It was difficult, sometimes, for people to believe he’d been silent long enough the other students gave up on getting a name out of the Weird Mute Kid From The Anderfels - once he re-found his voice, he barely ever stopped talking, because as long as he could get words out then the Templars hadn’t gotten to him, not properly - but right now words utterly failed him. When he did speak, after a long and terrible moment, it wasn’t his voice, the deep timbre entirely too calm and measured for how much his shoulders trembled. “You are saying… that there was always a cure. That we could have-” His eyes squeezed shut; one hand moved to cover his mouth, as if to try and muffle the next strangled sound, a whining sob that shook his entire form. The gesture was no more successful than Justice had been in stopping it escaping. ---- It was bad enough hearing the almost-laugh, because it should be good news instead of the awfulness it actually was behind it, and she knew when he’d put it together. She could feel him drawing back and she closed her eyes. He had so many wounds, and while she had her fair share it wasn’t the same. There wasn’t much comparing. And to know she’d caused him more pain, it didn’t help much. But the alternative would have been hiding it, and Maker knew if he’d turn a corner and finding the Inquisition’s Seeker there or someone finding out and telling him, and that would have hurt him even worse. She knew it was Justice speaking, and could only nod. The sound brought her out of it because he needed her now. Gently she went and set one arm around him, like he’d done to her and went to set her forehead on his shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry.” More for the pain she’d inflicted then anything else. She could only repay the Seekers in kind, really. She’d promised Varric she’d not go after Cassandra. There was nothing said about the others, who’d kept this secret and could have saved so many. “I didn’t…” she broke off, because when he hurt, she hurt. And that was aside from the terrible injustice of it all. “I couldn’t keep this from you.” She offered quietly. --- His voice became a snarl, rage that usually only Justice could summon but here entirely, awfully human. “I will kill every last-” - and then it stopped abruptly, the shudders wracking his frame ceasing almost simultaneously, the tense curl of shoulders and spine relaxing. No gentle segue here, just a seizing away of the reins. Again that calm, measured tone, though now with a clipped, strained quality at the very edges, as if maintaining that calm were taking substantially more effort than usual, “It was the right call. Telling us. In time, he will appreciate that. It is merely… difficult. We did not comprehend, and so… It was not a kindness. Nor was it Just.” His gaze turned to her, red-rimmed and flickering with fade-fire. “Now there is all the more reason to escape this place. This knowledge must reach the mages.” --- She sighed and looked up at him. “You have to let him be angry y’know.” It was gentle and it wasn’t really an argument or a scolding. She knew that, in his way, Justice was doing what he could to keep Anders safe. But anger was human. “Even if it’s at me.” this was terrible news and she’d not reacted much differently. Had Cassandra been near, it would have ended in bloodshed, and finding out which one of them was the better swordswoman, no matter what Varric had asked. He’d only gotten his promise because Cassandra had been away, and out of reach. She kept close, her chin on his shoulder. She loved Justice just as much as she loved Anders and was there for them both. “They know. This was a thing the Inquisition found out. Varric wouldn’t have known otherwise. His source is letting it out. People are helping them be complete again.” It was letting the wind out of his sails a bit so she smiled. “Not that you’re not right. How many Tranquil do we have in our little group? Plenty, right? And there’s those who the news hasn’t reached yet. Let alone the fact the Tranquil will need help seeing they’re going from nothing to suddenly everything. And you can help get us Spirits, because I don’t know how the Seekers didn’t get demons.” As far as she knew it, spirits could be affected by humans. Or a demon could masquerade. “Varric promised to get me more details.” Gently she went to set her hand on his cheek, a little bit more hesitant then she’d be around Anders. “This is a new Cause. You know I’m with you. And I am sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. Either of you. But Maker forbid you found out from anyone else.” --- "Anders would not want to punish you for their crime. Much less for ours." It was not exactly a retort, more - as with most of Justice's pronouncements - a statement of fact. It was curious, the dynamic they had settled into. He did not love Hawke, exactly - the notion skewed far too closely to Desire for him to feel comfortable approaching its outskirts - but he… respected her, perhaps? Appreciated her virtues, faltering though they may sometimes be. Theirs was not the messy intimacy she shared with Anders, but there was a comfort to it regardless, and he did not withdraw from the contact as he might once have. He had missed her, in his own way. "It is the same Cause, Hawke." That time it was a correction, albeit one with an amused indulgence underlying it. "The mages have endured so many Injustices. The death of the Circles alone is not enough to redress that." --- Gently she brushed her fingers over his cheek, relishing in the opportunity. It was the quiet moments she’d missed the most. That he didn’t pull back, allowed her this, spoke volumes. Justice didn’t understand love no more then he understood the other various emotions humans had but he did care. Moments like this were proof enough. “S’not punishing me. S’being angry.” Not the first time she’d had the argument, probably not the last. Anger was as complicated as anything. “If he’s angry at me, he’s not really angry at me. He’s venting because the true culprit can’t be reached. And it’s not so much he’s angry at me either. Voicing frustrations. Which is complicated. Point is it’s not bad, not taking it personally. And trust me I had my moment. The only reason the person this comes from lives is because she was out of reach when I learned about this. And Varric called in a favor, after. She knew, but she’s also letting it out. Other Seekers are fair game.” “Semantics.” Her tone was wry, and somewhat amused. “But fixing the Tranquil that want it is a good step of redressing. Which, we have to ask them.” She was sure he wanted to help everyone he could. “Some have….a lot that happened. Might not want to have all those emotions shoved back in. But now, there’s at least less of a threat. Still plenty others.” she was rambling a bit, and knew it. So she sighed. “Let’s solve this problem first. Just point me, alright? ‘M talking too much.” --- "It is endearing. Or so Anders believes." He shifted slightly in his seat, placing, more than wrapping, an arm around her; there was an awkwardness to the gesture that suggested he didn't really understand the intent, so much as that this was a thing humans did to comfort each other, but the thought was there. "If you wish to talk more, I would not object. Tell me of this Big Demon?" --- She gave him a smile, because he said a lot but really he could just focus on himself, or Anders. Or let Anders back out. Instead he was touching her, out of his own choice rather than being subjected to her (how often had she set his arm around her after all). “Sure. Anders does,” the smile didn’t leave her voice but she didn’t press much further. Justice wasn’t great at teasing. She leaned into the embrace, taking the moment for what it was worth. “It called itself Nightmare,” there was every chance Justice might know about it. Considering its size and immensity, she didn’t see that being a stretch. “Or Your Every Fear Come To Life. Which, titles.” She rolled her eyes, despite carrying one of those. “I’m no expert, you know that, but from it’s boasting it got to its size because of the fear of the Blight. Which, didn’t know that could be a thing. Didn’t look like any fear demon I’d ever seen. But Corypheus, being a mage, was able to strike a deal. It would create the False Calling, and in turn he’d bring it over. We stopped that, thus the ending of the False Calling. There was one of yours there. She never said who she was.” She frowned at the recollection, but there was no doubting that whatever, or whoever, it had been it had helped. “We’d not have gotten out without her. Hope’s what I’m betting on.” She smiled because she liked believing it had been. --- "One of my… Ah. You mean a Spirit. It is possible. Or perhaps Valor. We are drawn to those who need us most, in that moment. As for Nightmare…" His brow furrowed, ever so slightly. "I do not understand Demons. Your kind" - was that a teasing edge to his tone? Perhaps he was learning something of mortals after all - "hold that they are born of Ideas, the same as we. Mortals fear many things, and so it follows that Fear is rarely coherent enough to hold form. But the Blight unites you. You birth monsters of your own to fight against it. You have made what you fear into a weapon." He shrugged. "Perhaps there is some truth in that. Or perhaps the demon lied, as they are wont to." A beat. "I am… curious, as to the Spirits here. Which ideas hold weight enough to make them manifest." --- She considered both options. The romantic in her, the part of her not quite as burned out by Kirkwall and the following years as she thought, liked the thought of hope. “I suppose. Valor could have taken an interest but I don’t know. We were all in a very dark place. Feels more fitting that it’d be Hope.” She sighed then considered. “Unless we all got it wrong and souls can very much exist, and then it was plain old Justinia.” Which might shake her belief system a little, but she doubted it. No one had ever seen human souls, and no one ever mentioned them being encountered in the Fade. She smiled to the teasing tone and shifted her hand to run it through his hair. In part to touch, in part to soothe Anders, who she knew was there somewhere and probably trying to deal with as much as he could while Justice was asking the questions. “That’s not really a theory anymore. Nightmare was big enough to affect however many Wardens were around and while I have no idea about those outside of Ferelden or Orlais there’s no saying it couldn’t have spread. Whatever, or whoever, created the spark of fear of the Blight it transformed itself into something truly massive.” She frowned, “”Weapon turned against us too. And it knew things. Saw right through me.” She shivered at the recollection of it’s taunts. ‘Did you think you mattered’ still rang in her head. “Wasn’t a lie, Justice. Just powerful. Old.” Her voice trailed off, getting quiet. “The things it did…” She trailed off before shaking her head. She smiled then to try and brush everything off. This was real now. “Can you ask them? Maybe they’ll have more information too. Just, you know can you keep them out?” She waved around. “Only enough room for one Spirit here.” She tried for a grin, knowing that he might not smile but she could try amusing him. --- His grip tightened slightly, reflexively, as she shivered - a silent reassurance that she was not alone, and would come to no harm here - though he said nothing, letting her keep talking. Her suggestion, however, merited consideration. He tilted his head slightly, weighing it up. "I would not permit it, no. It is quite loud enough in here already without additional company. But I can try to speak with them, if they will listen. Perhaps not now. There are too many, and I am… distracted." --- That brought out an actual grin, the comments not going unnoticed. “You like being distracted, and it being loud.” Her voice was teasing and there was every chance he’d disengage and brush it off, but she couldn’t quite help it. He called her distracting with every breath, but she always felt he just liked complaining, because he could just be elsewhere. He chose, and it made her heart happy. She slid closer, knowing despite everything Anders was probably still having a rough time of it. So she patted his leg, “wanna come closer, that alright?” With Anders, she never needed asking. It was a familiarity born of long years together, knowing the boundaries and knowing if she wanted to sit on his lap she just had to do. Justice was different, and she knew that time was a weird concept to him. So was familiarity. With that she raised one hand, letting it hover near his chest and heart. “How’s he doing? I am here. For both of you. I know I can do very little but you were both there for me when Mother died.” Not that she remembered much, considering she’d drank herself into such a state that she still didn’t recall the funeral, except there had been one and he’d held her up for it. But the time before she’d always had his solid presence. “It’s part of the distraction bit.” she tried for a joke. --- “I do not. It is infuriating.” Given his usual deadpan tone, it was difficult to tell whether that was a joke or not, though the fact he inclined his head at her request suggested the former. That she thought to ask - that she consistently treated them as Individuals, despite their complicated situation - carried a weight he didn’t fully understand but that a mortal might have termed ‘meaning something’. In many ways, she was just as much his anchor as Anders’. A human would have sighed at the question; the Spirit wearing this one simply let a moment pass before responding. “He is… angry. Mostly, now, at ourselves. Which is not unmerited.” He did not fully understand why he had to look away, then, save that doing so paradoxically made speaking to her easier. “We should have realised. The signs were there. But we did not see them, and Karl is dead.” --- Smiling she climbed into his lap. She’d missed this. A lot of people would get discouraged, and granted she had too in the early years. But she’d learned to look beyond his terse tones and how stiff he sat. If it was Anders she’d drape and snuggle, but because it wasn’t she just had one hand on his shoulder. “Oh, I’ve graduated to infuriating now? I was annoying just a few ago. Making progress here love.” Her hand was light as she went to brush it along the feathers. It was a calming thing for her and just enough touch. She might be teasing but she’d never push to where he’d be uncomfortable. Justice wasn’t human, and she didn’t expect him to be. She grew serious at his word then, “oh love.” Her tone was sad for him, and hurt on his behalf. “That’s not your fault. Either of yours. How could you have known?” Her tone was gentle, and she went to flatten her other hand against his chest. But it wasn’t like she didn’t understand. She had similar feelings surrounding the death of her mother. Different things, but similar experiences. “What can I do?” Telling him there hadn’t been much they could have done at the time would not be helpful. Worse, it might even be more painful. --- "I do not think there is an easy answer. It is not an Injustice I have it in my power to right." Another pause, where a human might have sighed or awkwardly fidgeted. He merely nodded slightly, as if hearing a voice nobody else could. "This must be difficult for you. This… wishing things were different. It is no slight on the way things are. It is… important, that you understand that." ------ “One we can prevent though, for others. I wasn’t in time either, for Mother, but I was in time for any others.” It was hardly the same, but they both knew what it was to end the life of someone you loved dearly. “Now we’re in time for other Tranquil. We know what to do now. You talk and open the way for another Spirit and then we can help them.” She gave a soft smile. “It’s not a good balm, and you’re free to tell me I’m a hypocrite but it’s one I try using as often as I can. Sometimes it helps.” “Oh sweetheart, of course I do.” She frowned, not wanting him to think otherwise. “It’s not difficult at all. You loved him, I could see that even then. I wouldn’t think it’s a slight if you wish you could have helped him. I wish that too. It’s sweet that you worry about that.” and it was really. She figured it was more Anders then Justice worrying, but she’d lay that to rest as best she could. --- A curt nod - "As you say." - and another pause, before he spoke again. "In the Fade if Then no longer serves us, it is discarded and we are remade. Mortals carry so much of Then with them." He set one hand atop hers, where it sat on his chest - again, the gesture was awkward, lacking in human warmth, but again, at least he was trying. "It is Maddening." --- Sometimes it was very, very obvious how much Justice was struggling with the world of mortals. He had, in many ways, chosen to stay here from what she had gathered. The small details she wasn’t aware of, but she knew the big ones. Still, wanting to be here probably didn’t make the entire thing any easier. So she curled her fingers around his. She didn’t much mind how awkward he was. Struggling as he might be, he did try. “I know. Trust me, the minute we all make sense I’ll let you know,” the last was more teasing. She settled herself and considered the little adventure through the Fade. She was assured that if she wasn’t fine, both Anders and Justice would have picked up on it. But that still didn’t mean any of it had made sense. The Fade, for all everyone had ever told her, was a mutable thing. A reflection of the world. Yet Nightmare’s realm had looked nothing like the Fortress where they’d all fallen. “What’s it like, the Fade. For you?” She couldn’t quite piece together the fact that supposedly it was a dream place, something not quite for conscious minds, and the fact she’d felt it’s surface under her boots. “Got a point, just. Trying to sort the pieces together.” --- His brow furrowed. Not as much as it would were Anders in the driving seat - with the exception of Anger, which he'd taken to like a duck to water, Justice's emotions were altogether subtler - but enough that, to her, his confusion should have been obvious. "I am not sure I understand the question, Hawke. It is Home. What is Thedas like to a mortal?" --- “Right, yeah.” The thing was she didn’t want to cause concern. Mortals weren’t supposed to have a trip through the Fade, not physically. They had their visits subconsciously (which was a whole other barrel of fish she didn’t always like touching) and the one time they had it had brought doom with them. Still Justice was the expert. He might make sense of that whole trip. Or he’d have even less of a clue. She sighed and tried arranging her thoughts. “It’s supposed to be a reflection, right? Mirrors?” She frowned, “when they sent us there, for Feynriel, what I saw was a copy of the Gallows.” She couldn’t help but make a face. Of all the places the poor kid could have gone he’d gone there. “But, and this wasn’t my doing, when I was helping the Inquisitor we fell into one of those portals they can make.” And thank the Maker she’d been out of the Inquisition’s reach or it would have been her stuck with a terribly dangerous thing on her hand. “We fell into the Fade. I don’t even know how, or the fact it was possible but we were there and it was green. And wet.” It frustrated her, how many questions that brought up. She was happy in her questioning of the Maker, and now had a slew of questions that she did not think had any answers. “And that’s not supposed to happen. It didn’t look like the fortress. I don’t know where we were.” She took her free hand and ran it through her hair. “Talk about maddening.” --- "That should not be possible." Genuine concern flavoured the edges of his tone, though whether that was Anders creeping back in or simply the choice of subject matter wasn't entirely clear. "Waking mortals do not cross the Veil." A beat. "It is not an exact mirror. It is… There is a game your children play. One of passing messages, one to the next, and laughing at how little remains intact. Do you know of it?" --- She could feel agitation slipping in, she took a breath. Getting upset would solve nothing, and would probably cause more concern. “Well you can put it on my resume. One more impossible thing to add to it all.” She’d considered talking to a living legend at the top of the ‘weird shit’ list, but that had been promptly knocked off by doing something that hadn’t been done since the Magisters. She nodded, letting the restlessness of it all fade. It had been disconcerting and she’d tried to laugh most of it off. It hadn’t worked much when Nightmare had sent it’s lesser demons after them. “Aye.” That made more sense really. There had been remnants of buildings. “There was water.” She frowned to that recollection. “A sea, of sorts. And it was dreary?” She frowned, wishing he’d been there so he could sort everything out. She shook her head. She couldn’t even put everything to words, so getting it straightened wasn’t something she figured would happen anytime soon. “Like you said, maddening.” --- "A demon of the magnitude you described would have shaped its demesne in its own image. They craft only what they know. They cannot Invent, as you do." Silence followed, as he glanced about the room, before he spoke again. "I do not think we will accomplish anything tonight. You are drunk, and sad, and we are…" A beat as Justice considered the most appropriate word, though the slight edge of distaste in his tone suggested the one he'd landed on was an imperfect match (or that he had nothing but disdain for the concept. Perhaps both). "Tired." --- That was a frightening concept. Not that Nightmare wasn’t, on it’s own considering it was able to manipulate an entire group of people with very little effort, but knowing it could have shaped what it found? Well it’d explain a lot, but also didn’t help much. The Grey Warden had so very little chance then. That didn’t make the guilt any easier to carry. She looked up at him, figuring if he was admitting that he was probably more exhausted than he let on. No wonder he’d taken over as smoothly as he had then. “You recall our conversation on such merits like rest right? Limits aren’t weaknesses.” She untangled herself from him though, concern bleeding through. “Not that drunk,” tipsy, certainly but she could let him have his point. Very little, save running herself up a wall of her own making, would get done right now. And there were the other matters to consider. Still she smiled at him. It wasn’t quite the reunion she’d planned on, but at least it was one. “I did miss you. And I’m glad you’re alright. Both of you. I was very worried.” --- "I recall. The Rebellion does not yet run itself." He countered, bristling slightly. Acquiescence to the limits of a human body was still, and likely always would be, a bone of contention. As was the notion anyone else should bear a portion of the burdens imposed by trying to overthrow the Chantry; he was not fool enough to believe such small martyrdom redressed the balance of their combined guilt, but it was A Start. Her confession did little to lower his hackles. "You know I would not stand idle in your absence. Of the three of us, you were the one most at risk." --- She rolled her eyes at that, despite not being that much better at it. But she’d at least only helped the Inquisition instead of taking it all on herself. “There’s some smart cookies in the Resistance y’know. It’s being a beacon, not holding the torch and saying you have to be the only one holding it.” It was probably an argument she’d have for a while. “Besides the more tired you are the less you’ll be able to do.” She translated that to ‘I worried too’ and sat so she could get rid of her boots. She also wanted to get Weisshaupt off her skin, but she wasn’t sure what the facilities here were. “Didn’t mean it like that Justice, you know that. Love tends to lead to worrying. That’s not a slight on your capabilities. It’s a human thing.” Now without her boots she decided to roam a little and explore the room. All the previous talk had made her antsy, and sitting still wasn’t much of an option anymore. --- “Either way, the flame must not go out.” He watched her, expression impassive, as she moved about the room - “We are not ‘a human thing’, as you well know. And we were… I was not worried.Your disregard for the odds of your own survival is nothing if not consistent. I am glad my faith was not misplaced.” --- “I’m so glad you agree.” Now the heavy stuff was out of the way she could relax a little. And she felt wired, and knew it would be unlikely she would sleep any time soon. It was a result of an excess of energy. Drinking sometimes did this to her. “You burn too bright. Not an endless wick there. Letting it bank and rest makes it shine all the brightest.” She gave him a grin as she opened the drawers. “Oh, clothes.” suspicious, maybe but she wasn’t looking any gift horses in the mouth. The sand of the Anderfels was stuck to her, and she very much wanted something else. She picked through things before looking back. “You’re sweet and I enjoy the faith you have in me. So, okay. A Hawke thing? I just worry. I worry about everyone. Fen, Beth, ‘Bela, Merrill, Aveline, and Varric. Everyone’s perfectly capable. Doesn’t stop me though.” She wondered what the other door was and rose. “Rest, alright? You said you were tired and you’re poking at me for the sake of it at this point. Unless something’s bothering you?” --- “I am experimenting with ‘making up for lost time’. I would have thought you would approve. It is a very Human concept.” The longer he spent in her company, the more obvious it became that he had learned from his host, even if he did not necessarily fully comprehend the lessons he was employing. Give it a century or two (which… was not impossible, though a bleak prospect) and he would be emoting properly. Maybe. But probably not. “Besides, this is as much rest as I am likely to get tonight. So. What do you need?” --- That made her laugh. She’d been with them for years and years now, and it never stopped amusing her how much Justice enjoyed his attention, in his own way. He tended to bicker, because then she was paying him mind, and if he said this is how he made up for lost time she knew he meant it. A lot of people wouldn’t get that. She tried her best to. “I do approve. But sometimes you’re actually upset instead of just looking to spend time. Have to at least ask.” She held up the various breeches she was finding (she was messy by default, and it had driven a lot of people up a wall over time. Being tipsy did not help much) trying to find one that would fit. Lots of them had fabrics she didn’t know. At his question she paused and leaned back to look at him. Granted, Justice didn’t always get flirting and that was fine. But she was never able to resist. She looked him over and then grinned slyly. “You,” her tone was unrepentant and flirtatious but really he had walked straight into that one. --- He looked at her levelly, tone deadpan with a hint of long-suffering. “That seems both convenient and unlikely, Hawke.” ---