"help me; i've got no soul to sell" - nine inch nails
Moar flist spam, I suppose. Apologies. XD
One of these days I'm going to understand the definition of a "drabble," I swear. Today is not that day.
Due to this fact, I am posting my answer for my
drabble365days here, as it is too long to post directly to the comm. Oops?
Also, my first time writing from Isabela's POV, and I'm kind of in love with it. This does not bode well...
Adrift
Prompt: Writer's Choice
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 897
Characters/Pairing: Isabela, F!Hawke, (F!Hawke/Anders)
Warnings: Dragon Age II spoilers, references to past (canon) character death
Summary: In which A Talk is had, a secret is shared, and plans are made.
If Isabela had learned anything about Hawke in their years of friendship, it was that the woman could all but vanish off the face of Thedas if she had half a mind to. Even trapped on a ship in the middle of the Waking Sea, she had still managed to find a place to hide where even the Captain couldn't track her down, no matter how hard she tried. Though Isabela was not about to let that stop her.
Hawke had not spoken a word to anyone since they had left Kirkwall, sequestering herself in her cabin and avoiding all attempts at human interaction. They had decided as a group - Isabela, Varric, Aveline, and Merril - to leave her be, let her work through her grief in private. None of them had any real idea of what to say, what would help, and Hawke was not the sort of woman to appreciate their attempts at sympathy. But it had been nearly three weeks now and they were running out of ocean. Sooner or later they were going to need to pick a destination and no one was willing to do so without Hawke.
So it had fallen to Isabela, captain of the ship and therefore privy to her secrets, to track down their wayward companion. Her cabin was empty and even that wretched mutt of her seemed unable to find her.
Which meant that no one was more surprised than Isabela herself when she stepped out on deck to find Hawke standing near the port rail, staring off into the waves. Isabela paused at the top of the stairs to study her friend, as though she could read her mental state by the set of her shoulders, the angle of her chin. Hawke wore the same armor she had that last day in Kirkwall, though she had cleaned and mended it at some point since. She braced herself with one hand against the ship's rail and the other pressed against her stomach, staring at it with a pensive sort of expression that Isabela instantly recognized.
“Oh, balls.”
She hadn't intended for that to be overheard, but Hawke's head snapped up and her eyes trained on Isabela. The pirate shrugged philosophically - it would work well enough as an introduction, she supposed - and walked forward to stand at Hawke's side.
“How long?” she asked when Hawke made no move to speak, gesturing toward Hawke's abdomen. For her part, Hawke did not bother to feign ignorance, something Isabela appreciated. She simply shifted her gaze back to the water and her hand to the rail, not looking at her companion.
“A little over a month, I think,” she murmured, voice so low that Isabela had to strain to hear it over the crashing of the waves.
“Huh.” She considered this for a moment, doing the mental math. The week before the Chantry, then. “So, did you screw up or did he?” she asked, forgoing tact in favor of her usual bluntness. “Because I really doubt either of you were planning on having a brood of little abomi-babies just then.”
Her choice of words drew a strangled laugh from Hawke, who glanced over at Isabela out of the corner of her eye, mouth quirked in a ghost of a smile.
“Funny thing, that. Turns out that when you're planning massive acts of terrorism, other things tend to slip your mind. Unimportant things, really. Like, you know, contraceptives.”
“Huh. Him, then.” Another pause. “Did he know?”
Hawke snorted. “Of course not. I didn't even know until a few days after...”
She did not need to finish the sentence for Isabela to know what she meant. A few days after I killed him.
“Would it have changed anything if you had?”
Hawke tugged her lower lip between her teeth, lost in thought. “I'd like to say no, you know? Insist that I would never let my personal life affect my judgment, that I would always be able to stay objective. But this?” She shook her head, though her eyes never left the sea. “I think maybe this would have. And I can't decide if I'm thankful or furious that I'll never find out, that I didn't know until it was far too late.” She pushed herself away from the rail with a sigh. “If you're actually going to the all the effort of tracking me down, then I'm going to assume you need a destination.” At Isabela's nod, she sighed. “I thought that was the captain's job.”
“So did I. But those idiots we travel with have mutinied and won't move without your say-so.” Isabela tried to sound put-out by this fact, but the truth was that she couldn't bring herself to be all that bothered. Hawke had lead them all well enough so far, there was no reason to mess with things now.
One more wistful glance out at the horizon and Hawke's expression firmed into her familiar “decision face” - one part determination, one part confidence and eight parts sheer bull-headed stubbornness. Isabela barely stopped herself from sighing in relief when she saw it. Their Hawke was back.
“Set a course for Ferelden, Captain,” she ordered, a hint of a smile playing around her mouth. “It's time to go home.”
For anyone curious, there is a master post for these challenge responses HERE.
One of these days I'm going to understand the definition of a "drabble," I swear. Today is not that day.
Due to this fact, I am posting my answer for my
drabble365days here, as it is too long to post directly to the comm. Oops?
Also, my first time writing from Isabela's POV, and I'm kind of in love with it. This does not bode well...
Adrift
Prompt: Writer's Choice
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 897
Characters/Pairing: Isabela, F!Hawke, (F!Hawke/Anders)
Warnings: Dragon Age II spoilers, references to past (canon) character death
Summary: In which A Talk is had, a secret is shared, and plans are made.
If Isabela had learned anything about Hawke in their years of friendship, it was that the woman could all but vanish off the face of Thedas if she had half a mind to. Even trapped on a ship in the middle of the Waking Sea, she had still managed to find a place to hide where even the Captain couldn't track her down, no matter how hard she tried. Though Isabela was not about to let that stop her.
Hawke had not spoken a word to anyone since they had left Kirkwall, sequestering herself in her cabin and avoiding all attempts at human interaction. They had decided as a group - Isabela, Varric, Aveline, and Merril - to leave her be, let her work through her grief in private. None of them had any real idea of what to say, what would help, and Hawke was not the sort of woman to appreciate their attempts at sympathy. But it had been nearly three weeks now and they were running out of ocean. Sooner or later they were going to need to pick a destination and no one was willing to do so without Hawke.
So it had fallen to Isabela, captain of the ship and therefore privy to her secrets, to track down their wayward companion. Her cabin was empty and even that wretched mutt of her seemed unable to find her.
Which meant that no one was more surprised than Isabela herself when she stepped out on deck to find Hawke standing near the port rail, staring off into the waves. Isabela paused at the top of the stairs to study her friend, as though she could read her mental state by the set of her shoulders, the angle of her chin. Hawke wore the same armor she had that last day in Kirkwall, though she had cleaned and mended it at some point since. She braced herself with one hand against the ship's rail and the other pressed against her stomach, staring at it with a pensive sort of expression that Isabela instantly recognized.
“Oh, balls.”
She hadn't intended for that to be overheard, but Hawke's head snapped up and her eyes trained on Isabela. The pirate shrugged philosophically - it would work well enough as an introduction, she supposed - and walked forward to stand at Hawke's side.
“How long?” she asked when Hawke made no move to speak, gesturing toward Hawke's abdomen. For her part, Hawke did not bother to feign ignorance, something Isabela appreciated. She simply shifted her gaze back to the water and her hand to the rail, not looking at her companion.
“A little over a month, I think,” she murmured, voice so low that Isabela had to strain to hear it over the crashing of the waves.
“Huh.” She considered this for a moment, doing the mental math. The week before the Chantry, then. “So, did you screw up or did he?” she asked, forgoing tact in favor of her usual bluntness. “Because I really doubt either of you were planning on having a brood of little abomi-babies just then.”
Her choice of words drew a strangled laugh from Hawke, who glanced over at Isabela out of the corner of her eye, mouth quirked in a ghost of a smile.
“Funny thing, that. Turns out that when you're planning massive acts of terrorism, other things tend to slip your mind. Unimportant things, really. Like, you know, contraceptives.”
“Huh. Him, then.” Another pause. “Did he know?”
Hawke snorted. “Of course not. I didn't even know until a few days after...”
She did not need to finish the sentence for Isabela to know what she meant. A few days after I killed him.
“Would it have changed anything if you had?”
Hawke tugged her lower lip between her teeth, lost in thought. “I'd like to say no, you know? Insist that I would never let my personal life affect my judgment, that I would always be able to stay objective. But this?” She shook her head, though her eyes never left the sea. “I think maybe this would have. And I can't decide if I'm thankful or furious that I'll never find out, that I didn't know until it was far too late.” She pushed herself away from the rail with a sigh. “If you're actually going to the all the effort of tracking me down, then I'm going to assume you need a destination.” At Isabela's nod, she sighed. “I thought that was the captain's job.”
“So did I. But those idiots we travel with have mutinied and won't move without your say-so.” Isabela tried to sound put-out by this fact, but the truth was that she couldn't bring herself to be all that bothered. Hawke had lead them all well enough so far, there was no reason to mess with things now.
One more wistful glance out at the horizon and Hawke's expression firmed into her familiar “decision face” - one part determination, one part confidence and eight parts sheer bull-headed stubbornness. Isabela barely stopped herself from sighing in relief when she saw it. Their Hawke was back.
“Set a course for Ferelden, Captain,” she ordered, a hint of a smile playing around her mouth. “It's time to go home.”
For anyone curious, there is a master post for these challenge responses HERE.