[A woman is peering at the communicator screen altogether too close, with a sort of curious fascination. Her face is a warm brown colour, her eyes a rather unusual amber hue, her hair black and bound back with a scarf, and golden jewellery glimmers at her ears and throat. She's holding the communicator aloft at an angle that shows a room at
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[... and here he thought he'd run into everyone worth running into. And Anders.
Well.
At least the balance of people he could stand to people he couldn't has been tilted favourably.]
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Well, I'll be damned.
[In the next moment, she's grinning.]
I suppose that problem is solved then.
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To answer your question; no the other abom--[... he cuts himself off, and clears his throat.] Merrill isn't here. The other one is, as well as Hawke.
[Formalities out of the way, he folds his arms and tilts his head at the screen.]
I'm afraid I haven't had any chances to find this place's answer to The Hanged Man.
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Hawke? But she was just--
[She had kind of thought at least Hawke would be back home sorting out the mess that was about to start just as she left.]
Want to take the chance? The amount of drinks I might need is going up by the moment.
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... Hawke was just what?
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Calling us up to go and work her city-saving magic. Again. Mages, templars, loggerheads, you know.
[And then she frowns.] Fenris, you were there. Well, you were coming.
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You'll need to be more specific. I'm having trouble thinking of a time mages and templars weren't at each others throats.
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I don't mean the usual way. Blood mages in the Circle, templars wanting to tear down the whole Gallows to root them out...
[Here, have Isabela making a serious face. This is an occasion.]
There was about to be blood. You could smell it. I mean, Hawke looked like she was actually worried. [The gibe is weak, but it's there.]
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While I can't say I'm surprised, I don't remember this happening. It has become a case of 'seen one mage-templar confrontation, seen them all' recently.
You're not just recounting a spin the dwarf put on a regular encounter?
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[She catches herself, frowns deeper.] I'm not joking, Fenris. The damn city's been wound to a breaking point. You know it, Varric knows it, shit, Merrill must have a clue by now.
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Relations are poor, but not at or near breaking point yet. It's like inevitable, but... as far as I am aware, Hawke has received no... suggestive letters from anyone.
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[She begins to look more uneasy than confused.]
How could you not know? She'd come to you first of all. Well, maybe after Aveline, but you get my point.
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... Hawke and I experienced something like this the other day. She remembers things she swears have happened, yet I don't remember them at all.
Hawke never received a letter from Orsino. Not that I am aware of; I know that much.
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I'll repeat what I said before. I'm not drunk enough for this conversation.
[Pause. She tugs on her earring, fidgeting.] So what is the last thing you remember?
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