Hawke (sonoflothering) wrote in soulboundic, @ 2019-12-05 10:08:00 |
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"By the Maker's nutsack," was in fact Ethan's opening gambit when the large rolling mist headed in his direction and his party with whom he wasn't well acquainted with response was to back up slowly as if that would change their fate. He'd lived through and experienced far too many weird and magical things to be safe in the knowledge that fleeing would have any sort of effect. Generally speaking it was better to face it head on and brace yourself for whatever was waiting for within or beyond the mist that he could not currently see beyond. It was thick, strangely reminiscent of the Fade, and his sixth sense prickled along his back which was presently ramrod straight.
It did not appear that he would be home anytime soon, but then what else had he expected? He'd only come out of shadowy retirement at the bequest of Varric who was near and dear to his heart though admittedly he was beginning to wonder if the dwarf had any sort of comprehension of the utter pain in the ass this travelling had become. Probably not. He had other things to be concerned about right now, far more important things, the fate of the world and all that.
Ethan did not envy the Inquisitor, not one bit. It had been hard enough dealing with Kirkwall and all the drama there without throwing the tear in the Veil into the mix and the apparent rising of Corypheus. Heh, sorry about that, not exactly his finest hour, but it wasn't as if he could go back and change things. Besides the Inquisitor despite being thrown tit over ass (no offence intended given the fact she happened to be a woman) into the whole messy affair definitely seemed capable and she had good companions beside her. Varric, included. They'd keep her right and make sure she didn't die horribly doing something brave and stupid.
Still, enough concern for them and more concern for himself, he who was being swamped and overwhelmed by mist until he quite honestly couldn't see past the end of his nose. Ethan's first and immediate reaction was to reach for his blades and have them clasped, ready to strike, and as the mist did in fact fade around he bared his teeth, doing his very best impression of a Mabari war hound ill fed and petulant. Not a far call from how he was feeling in fact. Of course the longer he stood doing just that the more he began to realise that perhaps there was no call for it. It did not appear that he was in any immediate danger and if anything he was simply being regarded by another person with a perplexed expression written across their features.
"You there," Ethan announced as he remained blades up and on the defence, "What trickery is this?"