fourth act.

[riseto]

[ voice ]

Santa,

Here is my list of impossible things I want that you can't give me:

• To go back and dump Carver on his stupid ass before he has a chance to charge that ogre;
• A chance to turn back three years and tell Bethany she can't go on that blighted expedition;
• Or even just a chance to tell her I'm sorry for what I did, and mean it;
• Malcolm Hawke to

Comments

voice; 1/???

[freewolfmoon]

Hawke?

voice;

[freewolfmoon]

[ She's not supposed to say things like that, she's supposed to be the one who holds it all together, even if she holds it together in very strange ways and sometimes when he's thinking more clearly he can recognize that she's wearing a mask as surely as he is and probably better-- ]

voice;

[freewolfmoon]

Hawke, where are you?

voice;

[freewolfmoon]

--I'm sorry. It was not my place to ask that now.

action;

[freewolfmoon]

[ Seriously, though, where is she?

Is it all right for him to seek her out, to try to help? Has she given him permission?

He dwells on this for a while, but in the end, he comes back to one thing: she did ask for alcohol. That's a clear request. He can do that. It's acceptable. So, while he ponders where she might be, he breaks into the back room of some shady bar in the Underground and menaces the help until they hand over a few bottles. ]

action; done

[freewolfmoon]

[ And that's how he ends up pacing the Underground with a small sack slung over one shoulder and his sword in his hands. He'll just look for evidence of violence and destruction and follow the trail from there. That's usually a good way to find Hawke. ]

action;

[riseto]

[ That is how he'll find her, over a mile into the Underground with an impressive line of carnage in her wake. She's not even bothering to cover her tracks, not trying to keep quiet and go undetected. She's in a berserker's fury, charging into the fray with a raw cry and tearing her sword through monster flesh with savage efficiency. It's all raw feeling, careless brutality, because she can't bury these feelings and there's only one way to channel them out before they become too much poison to bear.

But she's being careless, and a blow from behind catches her in her shoulder, sending her rolling to the ground with a heavy grunt. She barely feels the pain, though, because pain is her tool, this pain and the other pain, the one knotted in her chest, and her pace quickens, her blows strengthen, and the creatures around her stumble as the pain radiates out from her and grasps at them like shadow. ]

action;

[freewolfmoon]

[ By the time he steps out of the broken-down alley strewn with monster carcasses, he has a very rough plan laid out. It goes like this: find Hawke fighting as usual. Fall into step at her side. At some point, present her with the bottles of liquor.

It's a flawless plan.

Except for the part where it all falls apart the moment he actually sees her fighting.

That isn't the Hawke he knows. She doesn't fight like that. This is the work of dark magic, he has no doubt. He sees it try to take Hawke of all people, and he feels control start to slip away...

(It's been difficult enough holding on anyway, with the memory of Hadriana's death, her heart between his fingers before he could stop himself, fresh in his mind every time he thinks back to the time before the City.)

With a low cry of an Arcanum oath, he lunges forward into battle, his step feather-light as the lyrium glow envelops him but his blade heavy as it cuts into the monstrous flesh. ]

action;

[riseto]

[ The glow of lyrium casts its familiar ghostly pale light over the walls, and Hawke falls into the familiar rhythm of fighting with a companion. She pauses to unhook a health potion from her belt and downs it in a quick swallow--and she should be careful because she only had so many on her when she was brought here, but right now she just does not care. Her attacks slow back to a more regular tempo as the dragon-blooded frenzy ends.

They're destructive, the pair of them, arcs of terror scything through the Underground creatures that were unfortunate enough to be in Hawke's path tonight. Distantly a part of her mind registers that Fenris lacks the precise control so part of his nature; there's a fury in him like the one in her, and she thinks probably it's at this stupid City and its stupid curses.

Finally the last enemy falls, and Hawke braces herself against the cavern wall, breathing hard as the adrenaline slowly ebbs. ]

What are you doing here, Fenris? [ Her voice is sharp, clipped, laced through with biting sarcasm. ] I'm not

action;

[freewolfmoon]

[ He fights the monsters at her side because it's the only thing he can do. He can't destroy whatever foul magic has descended upon her. He can't bring them both out of this forsaken City. He can't give her the things she was compelled to ask for--he can even give himself the things he asked for. Only the weight of the stolen liquor on his shoulder and the wet thwack of his blade into the monsters reminds him that he can do anything at all.

It's really a shame that eventually they run out of these creatures to kill. Then he has to hunt for something to say. He has to retreat behind his masks again and figure out how to express his concern without exploding with rage. ]

I looked for you. A good thing, if this is what I found. What more has this City done to you, Hawke?

action;

[riseto]

[ She's remarkably calm, still as glass, as she pulls a cloth from her pocket and sets to wiping the gore from her blade. ]

You mean besides abducting me and driving me down here to slaughter things?