I thought you would enjoy that x] (editing for unclear pronouns)crawlinonmyskinMarch 22 2011, 00:16:47 UTC
[Anders.
The one word brings back everything that had happened last week in a rush of clarity, and the surge of sheer hate that boils up in his chest surprises even him. Fenris takes an involuntary step backward, his face twisting into a mask of anger and his hands clenching with a crack of metal on metal at his sides. After what had happened, after what the mage had said, Hawke is here asking for his help to help him? How dare he--
If he had been in any state to think properly--if he had been in any state to think--he should have torn Anders' heart out right there and been done with it, all of it--
--and become a monster in everyone else's eyes, part of him cuts in. Been exactly the type of animal Anders accuses him of being. He's better than this; he's been getting better than this; they're trusting him to be better than this--and remembering that stems the rush of anger a bit, enough for him to get a grip on it and wrestle it back down and away. Fenris forces his hands to relax, although his voice stays dry and hard and bitter.]
And what has everyone's favorite abomination done now? Killed a few Templar, no doubt. Or perhaps it was some mages that didn't agree with him for being traitors to the cause.
[He nearly spits the last words, turning so that he doesn't have to see the expressions he already knows will be on their faces. Anger. Resignation. Or worse, sympathy.]
I suppose it would be too much to hope that he's been caught and locked in the Gallows where he belongs.
[He'd been bracing for an explosion- one colored blue and glowing like lyrium, of course. Probably a pretty painful one, at that. Except there isn't one, and Hawke's more than a little surprised when it doesn't arrive. He's not sure whether it's good surprise or bad surprise, but when all Fenris does is take a step back and refuse to look at them- ]
[He should have come earlier. The thought plays back in his head, looping over and over. When people said they didn't need to talk, they never meant it, never. Why did he always believe them? He should have known. It's not fair for this to be the first conversation since Danarius's death, not at all. But Anders. Justice. Vengeance. The Chantry. Mages and templar and a war about to start with a literal bang. The world keeps moving, and nothing's ever been fair, not since years ago...]
[No. Stop. It won't help anything if he gets angry, too. Hawke reaches for humor, finds it, drops it into the conversation like a ton of awkward bricks. But better than the alternative.]
Never thought I'd see the day where you were the optimist...
[He actually winces at his own words, but goes on quickly before the opportunity escapes him again.]
It's Justice- Vengeance. Whatever it is that's inside Anders. If we don't find a way to split them apart-
[There's no soft way to put this.]
He's going to destroy the Chantry with everyone inside. To start a war.
[A moment to let that sink in, then- ]
He- or Justice- was lying when he said he was researching Tevinter. But it might still be an idea. The mages in Tevinter must deal with their demons somehow, and if we do the research he said he'd done, there might be a way to save-
Fenris turns to stare at Hawke, his eyes widening in pure disbelief. He doesn't understand. But Hawke is talking about it so matter-of-factly, and Hawke isn't the type to joke. Not now, not about things like this. But why? Why would even Anders, do something like--?
And then it clicks. All of it in his head at once. Mines. Demons. Mages. Templars. Strong mages. Weak mages. War. 'Freedom.' Anders--
And the last half of what Hawke's explanation is completely lost in the explosion that they'd barely avoided a minute ago, a huge flash of bright blue light that fills the room as Fenris ignites.
The hypocrite. Hypocrite. Hypocrite. Calling himself different. Calling himself strong. And ending up like every mage. Just like every mage, abusing their powers and throwing away innocent people's lives as long as they got what they wanted. Thinking themselves superior beings and everyone else an expendable means to an end. To think that lunatic had accused him of being jealous of him and his demon...
Fenris is across the room before he knows it, lashing out, his claws digging into Hawke's armor and lifting, just enough to haul the man up half an inch and drag him forward, his face contorting back into that mask of fury and his breath hissing through tight-clenched teeth.
Hypocrite. Hypocrite. Hypocrite. And Anders had called him a--]
Give me one good reason why that abomination is still alive.
HOW DID THIS CRACK PLOT GET SO SRS WTHchronicheroMarch 22 2011, 05:19:02 UTC
[A familiar blue flash and Hawke is automatically moving- to cover the door, cover the others behind him, bracing himself for impact. He barely has time to get there before there are hands in his armor and he's stumbling forward as he's pulled- and staring down into a lyrium-shielded face, fighting to control his own rising temper.]
[It's not Anders' fault. It's not Fenris' fault. None of this is anyone's fault. He has to keep reminding himself of that, over and over and over. But he should have known. Just another piece of the whole- he's been watching all of Kirkwall fall apart and all he can do is hold it together for as long as he can. And he's tired of all this- of not being able to fix anything any more- of everyone hating each other and doing nothing to help- ]
[He could leave. Turn in his title, turn down everyone asking him for help, cut himself free of all the tangling arms of politics, friendships, heroics... and have a year or two of peace. He could go somewhere, anywhere, far away, become anyone he likes, he has the money. He doesn't have to be here- ]
[But if not him, then who?]
[Damn his own conscience- ]
[Hawke reaches up to grab at Fenris's wrists, pushing back just hard enough to show his own frustration, but makes no other move to defend himself, merely standing his ground instead. And his voice remains calm and level, though the edge of anger does show through in the careful way he speaks. Anger, resentment, disappointment-]
[Sympathy, too.]
I'll give you three reasons why you should help me.
One, because whatever he is planning, he hasn't done anything yet. Two, because there's still a chance we might be able to separate Justice- Vengeance- and get him back to normal. Three, because whatever he is now, there's a man somewhere in there named Anders who is being taken over by a demon-
[His hands around Fenris's wrists tighten for a second- then drop away as Hawke lets him go. Kill him for it- but no one will be able to say he didn't try.]
And if there is anyone who would understand anything about being consumed by vengeance, it would be you.
I don't know but I'm liking it xD Is this rivalry or friendship?crawlinonmyskinMarch 22 2011, 06:07:07 UTC
[Fenris braces himself as well, fully expecting retaliation. Wanting retaliation, with the restless energy of someone that's been on edge for the past week. Someone looking for something to blame. For an excuse to break something. Any excuse to break something. For something to hit the trigger and set him off, and who knew where and when or if he'd stop--
But it doesn't come. Nothing there to fuel his anger. Nothing to retaliate against. What he gets is logic instead. Logic, and an appeal to the better nature Hawke constantly seems to think he has. When he thinks of it, that's all he's ever gotten. Perhaps it's part of what's made it true.
His head slowly lowers and his tattoos fade white as his hands drop out of Hawke's armor. And Fenris turns once more, this time not to avoid looking at the others' expressions, but to keep them from seeing his own.
He and Anders. Similar. Comparable. Neither of them words he would have used before today. Neither of them words he likes, words that still feel like proverbial ashes in his mouth to think. But... when Hawke puts it that way. When Hawke puts it that way, when he's half a step from killing him and proving him right, Fenris has nothing to say.
Except--]
I apologize. I should not have taken my anger out on you.
[He goes to the window and takes a slow breath, feeling the last of the rage draining away and leaving behind--bitterness. But that, he can handle. He hates Anders, Vengeance or no Vengeance. He doesn't think anything will ever change that. But perhaps hate and understanding don't have to be mutually exclusive. Who better to know and loathe another's weakness, than someone who suffers the same?
Sometimes he thinks Hawke understands more than he knows.]
MAN IDK - friendship I THINK? rivalry generally doesn't have apologieschronicheroMarch 22 2011, 07:06:17 UTC
[Hawke lets out the breath he's been holding as well, feeling the tension drop away- and reaches for a chair to pull over and sink into, feeling rather mentally winded himself. And reaches up to rub at his face with one hand as usual, stopping when realizes his gloves have been ruined- and looking down, his armor appears to have some interesting new holes, too. In rather inconvenient places.]
[One potential crisis averted- now to drag himself back together and up and move onto the next one. Thank the Maker this one hadn't gone on for longer, he doesn't know how long he could have kept that up- dominant and brutal, Isabela had said? Maker, he hates when he has to be, and how tired and angry that leaves him in turn. If only everyone could just get along...]
[He looks up after a moment of silence, waiting to see if Fenris will be turning back around on his own any time soon, and decides that he won't. But that's all right, Hawke has no problem talking at his back. He's done it enough over the years.]
[Business first.]
Tell me anything you know about the blood mages in Tevinter. Specific mages- names, families, eventual ends of those known to be possessed. Some of them must have been able to control their own demon... it'll give us something to start searching with.
[He bends down, picking up one of Fenris' broken quill pens from the floor, and tests out whether it'll go through his armor- yes, unsurprisingly enough, the holes are still real. Wonderful. He tosses the pen aside with a sigh.]
As for the rest of it, help me find a new suit of armor without the magical fist holes in it, and we'll consider the whole thing forgotten, how does that sound?
Friendship, it is (editing for html)crawlinonmyskinMarch 22 2011, 08:47:12 UTC
[Names. Families. Eventual ends. What he remembers is still vague, although it's been coming back in bits and pieces ever since Hadriana. Names of known abominations--easy enough to give over the ones he can think of. How to correctly spell those names is a different issue. He's going to have to guess.
To think he'd once wondered what the use was, of reading and writing.
He turns to tell Hawke as much. Then stops. Frowns. Looks puzzled. Before a rare, faint expression of amusement crosses his face at what he's seeing. Champion of Kirkwall, two minutes after nearly being killed by one of his own allies, playing with quill pens and grumbling about his armor. Something he's noticed Varric's stories of honor and heroism and ogres usually leave out.
The sight of the holes is sobering, however, and the faint look fades quickly enough. Two inches forward and he would have... done some permanent damage. To everything. Best to leave it at that. How Hawke can dismiss things like this so lightly, he'll never understand. No matter how many times he himself ends up relying on that ability.
Fenris moves over to the table, taking a seat across from Hawke and reaching for a piece of parchment, another pen, and the little bottle of ink that had luckily survived the last ten minutes inact. All three get pushed over to Hawke, and he begins a short list of names, pausing in the middle only to flick a look toward the door past Hawke's shoulder. A completely unamused one this time, as it registers that the others outside have both witnessed that little scene just now.
Whatever Isabela is taking notes on--there are, Fenris decides, certain things he does not want to read.]
If you two plan to stand out there all night, close the door.
[Ooh, she's finally been noticed. Took him long enough.]
[Isabela cautiously makes her way in, putting away the parchment and bit of charcoal she's been using to write all this down, just in case, for later, you know.]
Aw, are all the dramatics over? There were some really good lines in there. And the tension was thrilling for a while, you two need to do this more often.
And people say I make all this stuff up.
[She finds another chair to drag over and sit in, peering at the list over Hawke's shoulder and ignoring how completely awkward that might be in lieu of well, emotional outbursts and violent arguments or whatever. The little crook in her grin says a lot, though, and the way she seems to genuinely approve of the situation, all romantic - or eventual authorial - purposes aside. Fffft, stupid Hawke, he really needs to let things out once in a while, good for him.]
Those magisters in Tevinter really like the letter A, don't they?
They might say that because you do make most of it up. For the record, everyone's clothes stayed on.
[The response is pretty much automatic by now, and Hawke finishes writing down the names he's been given (these Tevinter mages did seem to like them fancy and long) and glances down at his armor again.]
Mostly.
[- wait. He can guess where this one's going in Isabela's head, and it probably has to do with way more than his breastplate coming off.]
Don't start.
[But the little groan he gives her is more put on than honest, and he feels himself relaxing for real. This- this is good. Back in very familiar territory with things he knows how to deal with, even if the standard procedure is to roll his eyes and complain about complete historical inaccuracy. That other thing, he doesn't want to ever have to try again, though he's sure Fenris wouldn't really have killed him, even accidentally- maybe surer than he should be, but still.]
[And on that note, note to self, talk to Fenris about last week. Sometime when they don't have an audience. And talk to Merrill to see if she can help. And see if Aveline can do anything to warn the Chantry- And talk to Anders, of course. Maker, he should start bringing a journal around to write these things down. He could call it a quest log- ]
[But first things first. Hawke looks up across the table at Fenris, careful to keep his expression neutral. He has no idea how hard all this is for him to remember, or if it's even hard at all- but Fenris wouldn't be helping if he didn't want to, Hawke knows can trust him for that much. Maybe it's better not to mention it. Or cover it up with several other thoughts voiced awkwardly aloud, that should do it.]
Anything else you can remember that might help? The Chantry itself should have some shelves to search. The viscount had a small personal library, if I remember correctly. And I'm sure I could find an excuse to look around the Templar Hall...
[Fenris is silent for a few seconds, still inwardly reeling a bit at how fast things have settled. Flash-fire violence and a near death experience at his hands and Hawke's right back to joking about Isabela's stories like nothing at all had happened. Five minutes and he's gone from being the Champion of Kirkwall to the awkward... Hawke he normally is, the mercenary-turned-noble who has obviously bought his political title instead of being groomed and raised into it--
It's always this, that's made him stop and wonder. More so for having known the man years and seeing things around him fall apart. It's the one thing that Hawke's always been able to do so easily that Fenris hasn't: move on. No matter what it is. No matter what it's from.
Perhaps one day he'll ask him how.
And in the back of his mind, still, there's the rankling knowledge that all this is for Anders. To save a man he hates, even though logically he knows at least half that hate is due to that demon's influence. But if he can think of it as trying to assist the Chantry, save the innocents, hold off a war--and to not leave Anders for only Hawke, Isabela, and Varric to deal with. Put that way, it's easier to be bitter that his reading isn't good enough quite yet to help more.
For now he turns his mind back to the Tevinter Imperium, reaching for anything he can find, anything he can remember. More names, some of families known to have lost entire bloodlines to demons; names of rituals he'd seen or overheard that might bear relation; the big political figures, although he has no idea whether they're still in power now.]
...probably not. The scales of power were always shifting. Magisters would come and go and kill and die--not always in that particular order, considering the undead...
And that is all I know.
[After a minute, he lifts his head, his expression as carefully neutral as Hawke's, and asks a loaded question.]
["What is it you plan to do if you find nothing"!?]
Trust you to totally ruin the mood.
[Isabela tosses one of the broken quill pens at Fenris, then sighs and shifts in her chair, her mouth curving into a frown as the question makes her think. Well, there are the obvious choices, like letting Anders go, turning Anders in to the Templars where they'd probably make him one of those creepy Tranquil guys, or... well, killing him.]
[But all those options are terrible, she's not about to suggest them. And besides, Hawke must have thought of those already, that's why they're even here looking for another way. She speaks up, sounding more confident than she suddenly feels.]
There's got to be something. I mean, if they've been dealing with demons for that long, they can't just all be going crazy and dying. The place would have run out of people in a single generation and then poof, no more Tevinter.
[Her eyes light up as she has another idea.]
Or maybe - maybe we could take Anders hostage or something. My ship, we could take him for a trip and away from... you know, blowing up Chantries full of grandmothers. They're boring, but they don't deserve that...
[Hawke nods at Isabela, a silent thanks for the support. She can't possibly be as sure as she sounds- but then neither is he, not really. He knows they're grasping at straws, but the only thing they have on their side is that so far, there are several straws left to grasp at. And he's going to try them one by one until he's sure there's absolutely nothing left.]
[Like this one. He'd had the idea a few minutes ago, while going over the checklist of should-haves and could-haves. One good thing coming out of all his self-reproach, at least.]
If there's really nothing in the books... I was thinking Merrill might be able to help us.
[He holds up a hand before Fenris can interrupt, clarifying the important point here:]
Hold the riot- I don't mean blood magic. Do you remember what the Keeper did for the boy, Feynriel? If Merrill knows the same ritual and can send some of us into Anders' location in the Fade like we went into Feynriel's...
[They might be able to talk. To Anders, to Justice, to Vengeance, to whatever's there. They might be able to kill- Justice, Vengeance, whatever's there. They might be able to make a deal to get some of the original Anders back, though what they have to offer that a demon would want besides another body, he doesn't know. There must be something.]
[And Hawke's no mage- he has no idea what the possibilities are. But he does know they are possibilities. Possibilities that don't necessarily end with anyone dying. He does acknowledge Isabela's idea as a good one, though, if they ever run completely out of options.]
Kidnapping could work, but let's try to leave that as the last resort. If we can't find anything from Tevinter, we'll try the Fade, and if that doesn't help-
[Then he supposes hostages it is. The further away from Kirkwall and any mages or templar, the better. But that would force Anders into Isabela's care and leave her alone to deal with it unless they all went with her, and who knew what would happen once he realized what was going on.]
I don't suppose Aveline or Sebastian would want to become a pirate for a while. Hopefully, we'll never have to ask...
OMG shit sorry, I had to go to Berlin at short noticedwarfstorytimeMarch 23 2011, 02:32:40 UTC
[Varric rubs his chin thoughtfully. He tries to watch out for his companions; it's in his nature. However, though a jovial dwarf--albeit not in the cliche drunken doofus sense--he has a cautious streak. Still, it's mildly embarrassing that he'd enter after Isabela. He rounds the corner nonchalantly, as if it were his intention to be fashionably late.]
I wouldn't want to get your hopes up--much as I like watching your eyes bug out--but I might have a few contacts who could assist us where information is concerned. Tevinter-wise, that is. Gotta say, though, it's always a risk when you bring people in, especially the day-to-day well-informed. Even if they don't ask questions, they often send spies. Why, I'd be amazed if Hawke didn't have a few already.
With that lovely-and-not-at-all-worrisome thought in mind, I'm thinking we should focus on a good old Fade trek. I mean, why not? It's been a while since the lot of us went soul-searching. Maybe it's time to resent being dragged into that shit again. [He smirks.]
[The way Hawke speaks of the others answers one question, at the least. That no, not everyone has been told about the Chantry. Fenris can see the logic behind it, he supposes. Sebastian and Aveline would immediately demand to see Anders. That something be done. That Anders himself is alerted to the fact that they all know, and possibly pushed into going into hiding from even them. The only reason he himself has been told is obviously out of necessity regarding Tevinter.
And he certainly hasn't proven himself particularly helpful with his own initial reaction. He still isn't proving himself helpful even now; he'd only meant to ask if Hawke had planned to kill Anders himself, not for other available options. But then Hawke had come up with one. One that almost sounds feasible. Even Isabela, an idea to end it bloodlessly, if not cure it for good.
And here Fenris is, still stuck in the same, habitual rut of kill the mage, kill the demon. Trying to help for the sake of a friend or not, he hadn't even bothered to think further than the standard solutions. An unsettling look into the workings of his own mind, and how limited and unchangeable they might be...
He picks up the parchment from the table that Hawke's been writing on and passes it to Varric to look at when he enters--all the names and key words should come in handy, if the dwarf has the contacts to search them out. Then, he looks back up across the table at the others, and the words are out before he can think about them.]
Take me with you.
[And when he does think about them, they make sense. It seems like he's done nothing right since last week. He's certainly done nothing right today, even though he had said he'd help. But that can change.]
Into the Fade. If Merrill is staying behind to do the sending, you'll need others to go with you. I owe those demons some misery for the first time...
[And more importantly, he has a promise of loyalty to keep.]
Ditto the welcome back! :)ilikebigboatsMarch 23 2011, 03:57:31 UTC
[So, it looks like they've decided on a course of action, then?]
Oh! Me too. Me too! I want to go, last time was interesting...
[She looks around, trying to remember the details of the ritual.]
Varric, me, Fenris, and you, Hawke - that's four, that's as many as you can send at once... and there, if Fenris is coming, we don't have to go get Aveline or Sebastian and have them flip out at us about law and religion and everything. Perfect.
[She claps with a jangle of bracelets, starting to grin, then turns the grin into a stern, hard glare that she shoots around the room.]
One boat comment and I'm going to shank you all. I have a ship and know what to watch out for now, all right? I'll be fine.
:D I got a DA:A Anders player to show up in Anders' Fade for us, does anyone mind?chronicheroMarch 23 2011, 04:29:10 UTC
It sounds like you've all decided what we're doing without me anyway. You know, I have no idea why they call me the leader of this group.
[Listening to them makes a real smile pull at Hawke's mouth, though- and he lets it stay there for once as he looks around- for a little while, anyway. This is what a team should be, working together to help one of their own. Moments like this have become rarer and rarer as the years have gone by, but every time- every time their efforts make something hold together, it makes all the rest worth it...]
[Varric, he nods at- if anyone would go with him, Hawke had known it would be him. Isabela, he had assumed was a probably- if only for the new adventure. Fenris- he's still a little surprised at Fenris volunteering to go, to say the least, but he'll gladly take the offer now that it's been made, considering the alternatives.]
[And after what they'd all said after last time- he trusts them, to have his back.]
Right. Well.
[Back to leader mode.]
If Varric is going to go do his spy thing- which I'm sure will land us with more information than all of us can get through in a month, Maker save us- Isabela, do you think you could convince Merrill to help us? You seem to see her the most often. And Fenris-
[Right. He was a bit touchy about this- ]
If you ever happen to pass by the Chantry for whatever reason, checking the basement for any lingering saltpeter and drakestone might not be a bad idea. Isabela and I moved the first load out, but there's no reason not to be sure...
[And as for him- ]
I'll try to get Anders to visit Merrill's house somehow, when you get the date settled. If I can think of a convincing enough reason. Do you think Anders would come to a blood mage's birthday party?
[Anders.
The one word brings back everything that had happened last week in a rush of clarity, and the surge of sheer hate that boils up in his chest surprises even him. Fenris takes an involuntary step backward, his face twisting into a mask of anger and his hands clenching with a crack of metal on metal at his sides. After what had happened, after what the mage had said, Hawke is here asking for his help to help him? How dare he--
If he had been in any state to think properly--if he had been in any state to think--he should have torn Anders' heart out right there and been done with it, all of it--
--and become a monster in everyone else's eyes, part of him cuts in. Been exactly the type of animal Anders accuses him of being. He's better than this; he's been getting better than this; they're trusting him to be better than this--and remembering that stems the rush of anger a bit, enough for him to get a grip on it and wrestle it back down and away. Fenris forces his hands to relax, although his voice stays dry and hard and bitter.]
And what has everyone's favorite abomination done now? Killed a few Templar, no doubt. Or perhaps it was some mages that didn't agree with him for being traitors to the cause.
[He nearly spits the last words, turning so that he doesn't have to see the expressions he already knows will be on their faces. Anger. Resignation. Or worse, sympathy.]
I suppose it would be too much to hope that he's been caught and locked in the Gallows where he belongs.
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[He should have come earlier. The thought plays back in his head, looping over and over. When people said they didn't need to talk, they never meant it, never. Why did he always believe them? He should have known. It's not fair for this to be the first conversation since Danarius's death, not at all. But Anders. Justice. Vengeance. The Chantry. Mages and templar and a war about to start with a literal bang. The world keeps moving, and nothing's ever been fair, not since years ago...]
[No. Stop. It won't help anything if he gets angry, too. Hawke reaches for humor, finds it, drops it into the conversation like a ton of awkward bricks. But better than the alternative.]
Never thought I'd see the day where you were the optimist...
[He actually winces at his own words, but goes on quickly before the opportunity escapes him again.]
It's Justice- Vengeance. Whatever it is that's inside Anders. If we don't find a way to split them apart-
[There's no soft way to put this.]
He's going to destroy the Chantry with everyone inside. To start a war.
[A moment to let that sink in, then- ]
He- or Justice- was lying when he said he was researching Tevinter. But it might still be an idea. The mages in Tevinter must deal with their demons somehow, and if we do the research he said he'd done, there might be a way to save-
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[He's going to what.
Fenris turns to stare at Hawke, his eyes widening in pure disbelief. He doesn't understand. But Hawke is talking about it so matter-of-factly, and Hawke isn't the type to joke. Not now, not about things like this. But why? Why would even Anders, do something like--?
And then it clicks. All of it in his head at once. Mines. Demons. Mages. Templars. Strong mages. Weak mages. War. 'Freedom.' Anders--
And the last half of what Hawke's explanation is completely lost in the explosion that they'd barely avoided a minute ago, a huge flash of bright blue light that fills the room as Fenris ignites.
The hypocrite. Hypocrite. Hypocrite. Calling himself different. Calling himself strong. And ending up like every mage. Just like every mage, abusing their powers and throwing away innocent people's lives as long as they got what they wanted. Thinking themselves superior beings and everyone else an expendable means to an end. To think that lunatic had accused him of being jealous of him and his demon...
Fenris is across the room before he knows it, lashing out, his claws digging into Hawke's armor and lifting, just enough to haul the man up half an inch and drag him forward, his face contorting back into that mask of fury and his breath hissing through tight-clenched teeth.
Hypocrite. Hypocrite. Hypocrite. And Anders had called him a--]
Give me one good reason why that abomination is still alive.
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[It's not Anders' fault. It's not Fenris' fault. None of this is anyone's fault. He has to keep reminding himself of that, over and over and over. But he should have known. Just another piece of the whole- he's been watching all of Kirkwall fall apart and all he can do is hold it together for as long as he can. And he's tired of all this- of not being able to fix anything any more- of everyone hating each other and doing nothing to help- ]
[He could leave. Turn in his title, turn down everyone asking him for help, cut himself free of all the tangling arms of politics, friendships, heroics... and have a year or two of peace. He could go somewhere, anywhere, far away, become anyone he likes, he has the money. He doesn't have to be here- ]
[But if not him, then who?]
[Damn his own conscience- ]
[Hawke reaches up to grab at Fenris's wrists, pushing back just hard enough to show his own frustration, but makes no other move to defend himself, merely standing his ground instead. And his voice remains calm and level, though the edge of anger does show through in the careful way he speaks. Anger, resentment, disappointment-]
[Sympathy, too.]
I'll give you three reasons why you should help me.
One, because whatever he is planning, he hasn't done anything yet. Two, because there's still a chance we might be able to separate Justice- Vengeance- and get him back to normal. Three, because whatever he is now, there's a man somewhere in there named Anders who is being taken over by a demon-
[His hands around Fenris's wrists tighten for a second- then drop away as Hawke lets him go. Kill him for it- but no one will be able to say he didn't try.]
And if there is anyone who would understand anything about being consumed by vengeance, it would be you.
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[Fenris braces himself as well, fully expecting retaliation. Wanting retaliation, with the restless energy of someone that's been on edge for the past week. Someone looking for something to blame. For an excuse to break something. Any excuse to break something. For something to hit the trigger and set him off, and who knew where and when or if he'd stop--
But it doesn't come. Nothing there to fuel his anger. Nothing to retaliate against. What he gets is logic instead. Logic, and an appeal to the better nature Hawke constantly seems to think he has. When he thinks of it, that's all he's ever gotten. Perhaps it's part of what's made it true.
His head slowly lowers and his tattoos fade white as his hands drop out of Hawke's armor. And Fenris turns once more, this time not to avoid looking at the others' expressions, but to keep them from seeing his own.
He and Anders. Similar. Comparable. Neither of them words he would have used before today. Neither of them words he likes, words that still feel like proverbial ashes in his mouth to think. But... when Hawke puts it that way. When Hawke puts it that way, when he's half a step from killing him and proving him right, Fenris has nothing to say.
Except--]
I apologize. I should not have taken my anger out on you.
[He goes to the window and takes a slow breath, feeling the last of the rage draining away and leaving behind--bitterness. But that, he can handle. He hates Anders, Vengeance or no Vengeance. He doesn't think anything will ever change that. But perhaps hate and understanding don't have to be mutually exclusive. Who better to know and loathe another's weakness, than someone who suffers the same?
Sometimes he thinks Hawke understands more than he knows.]
Tell me what I can do to help, and it is done.
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[One potential crisis averted- now to drag himself back together and up and move onto the next one. Thank the Maker this one hadn't gone on for longer, he doesn't know how long he could have kept that up- dominant and brutal, Isabela had said? Maker, he hates when he has to be, and how tired and angry that leaves him in turn. If only everyone could just get along...]
[He looks up after a moment of silence, waiting to see if Fenris will be turning back around on his own any time soon, and decides that he won't. But that's all right, Hawke has no problem talking at his back. He's done it enough over the years.]
[Business first.]
Tell me anything you know about the blood mages in Tevinter. Specific mages- names, families, eventual ends of those known to be possessed. Some of them must have been able to control their own demon... it'll give us something to start searching with.
[He bends down, picking up one of Fenris' broken quill pens from the floor, and tests out whether it'll go through his armor- yes, unsurprisingly enough, the holes are still real. Wonderful. He tosses the pen aside with a sigh.]
As for the rest of it, help me find a new suit of armor without the magical fist holes in it, and we'll consider the whole thing forgotten, how does that sound?
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[Names. Families. Eventual ends. What he remembers is still vague, although it's been coming back in bits and pieces ever since Hadriana. Names of known abominations--easy enough to give over the ones he can think of. How to correctly spell those names is a different issue. He's going to have to guess.
To think he'd once wondered what the use was, of reading and writing.
He turns to tell Hawke as much. Then stops. Frowns. Looks puzzled. Before a rare, faint expression of amusement crosses his face at what he's seeing. Champion of Kirkwall, two minutes after nearly being killed by one of his own allies, playing with quill pens and grumbling about his armor. Something he's noticed Varric's stories of honor and heroism and ogres usually leave out.
The sight of the holes is sobering, however, and the faint look fades quickly enough. Two inches forward and he would have... done some permanent damage. To everything. Best to leave it at that. How Hawke can dismiss things like this so lightly, he'll never understand. No matter how many times he himself ends up relying on that ability.
Fenris moves over to the table, taking a seat across from Hawke and reaching for a piece of parchment, another pen, and the little bottle of ink that had luckily survived the last ten minutes inact. All three get pushed over to Hawke, and he begins a short list of names, pausing in the middle only to flick a look toward the door past Hawke's shoulder. A completely unamused one this time, as it registers that the others outside have both witnessed that little scene just now.
Whatever Isabela is taking notes on--there are, Fenris decides, certain things he does not want to read.]
If you two plan to stand out there all night, close the door.
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[Isabela cautiously makes her way in, putting away the parchment and bit of charcoal she's been using to write all this down, just in case, for later, you know.]
Aw, are all the dramatics over? There were some really good lines in there. And the tension was thrilling for a while, you two need to do this more often.
And people say I make all this stuff up.
[She finds another chair to drag over and sit in, peering at the list over Hawke's shoulder and ignoring how completely awkward that might be in lieu of well, emotional outbursts and violent arguments or whatever. The little crook in her grin says a lot, though, and the way she seems to genuinely approve of the situation, all romantic - or eventual authorial - purposes aside. Fffft, stupid Hawke, he really needs to let things out once in a while, good for him.]
Those magisters in Tevinter really like the letter A, don't they?
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[The response is pretty much automatic by now, and Hawke finishes writing down the names he's been given (these Tevinter mages did seem to like them fancy and long) and glances down at his armor again.]
Mostly.
[- wait. He can guess where this one's going in Isabela's head, and it probably has to do with way more than his breastplate coming off.]
Don't start.
[But the little groan he gives her is more put on than honest, and he feels himself relaxing for real. This- this is good. Back in very familiar territory with things he knows how to deal with, even if the standard procedure is to roll his eyes and complain about complete historical inaccuracy. That other thing, he doesn't want to ever have to try again, though he's sure Fenris wouldn't really have killed him, even accidentally- maybe surer than he should be, but still.]
[And on that note, note to self, talk to Fenris about last week. Sometime when they don't have an audience. And talk to Merrill to see if she can help. And see if Aveline can do anything to warn the Chantry- And talk to Anders, of course. Maker, he should start bringing a journal around to write these things down. He could call it a quest log- ]
[But first things first. Hawke looks up across the table at Fenris, careful to keep his expression neutral. He has no idea how hard all this is for him to remember, or if it's even hard at all- but Fenris wouldn't be helping if he didn't want to, Hawke knows can trust him for that much. Maybe it's better not to mention it. Or cover it up with several other thoughts voiced awkwardly aloud, that should do it.]
Anything else you can remember that might help? The Chantry itself should have some shelves to search. The viscount had a small personal library, if I remember correctly. And I'm sure I could find an excuse to look around the Templar Hall...
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[Fenris is silent for a few seconds, still inwardly reeling a bit at how fast things have settled. Flash-fire violence and a near death experience at his hands and Hawke's right back to joking about Isabela's stories like nothing at all had happened. Five minutes and he's gone from being the Champion of Kirkwall to the awkward... Hawke he normally is, the mercenary-turned-noble who has obviously bought his political title instead of being groomed and raised into it--
It's always this, that's made him stop and wonder. More so for having known the man years and seeing things around him fall apart. It's the one thing that Hawke's always been able to do so easily that Fenris hasn't: move on. No matter what it is. No matter what it's from.
Perhaps one day he'll ask him how.
And in the back of his mind, still, there's the rankling knowledge that all this is for Anders. To save a man he hates, even though logically he knows at least half that hate is due to that demon's influence. But if he can think of it as trying to assist the Chantry, save the innocents, hold off a war--and to not leave Anders for only Hawke, Isabela, and Varric to deal with. Put that way, it's easier to be bitter that his reading isn't good enough quite yet to help more.
For now he turns his mind back to the Tevinter Imperium, reaching for anything he can find, anything he can remember. More names, some of families known to have lost entire bloodlines to demons; names of rituals he'd seen or overheard that might bear relation; the big political figures, although he has no idea whether they're still in power now.]
...probably not. The scales of power were always shifting. Magisters would come and go and kill and die--not always in that particular order, considering the undead...
And that is all I know.
[After a minute, he lifts his head, his expression as carefully neutral as Hawke's, and asks a loaded question.]
What is it you plan to do if you find nothing?
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Trust you to totally ruin the mood.
[Isabela tosses one of the broken quill pens at Fenris, then sighs and shifts in her chair, her mouth curving into a frown as the question makes her think. Well, there are the obvious choices, like letting Anders go, turning Anders in to the Templars where they'd probably make him one of those creepy Tranquil guys, or... well, killing him.]
[But all those options are terrible, she's not about to suggest them. And besides, Hawke must have thought of those already, that's why they're even here looking for another way. She speaks up, sounding more confident than she suddenly feels.]
There's got to be something. I mean, if they've been dealing with demons for that long, they can't just all be going crazy and dying. The place would have run out of people in a single generation and then poof, no more Tevinter.
[Her eyes light up as she has another idea.]
Or maybe - maybe we could take Anders hostage or something. My ship, we could take him for a trip and away from... you know, blowing up Chantries full of grandmothers. They're boring, but they don't deserve that...
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[Like this one. He'd had the idea a few minutes ago, while going over the checklist of should-haves and could-haves. One good thing coming out of all his self-reproach, at least.]
If there's really nothing in the books... I was thinking Merrill might be able to help us.
[He holds up a hand before Fenris can interrupt, clarifying the important point here:]
Hold the riot- I don't mean blood magic. Do you remember what the Keeper did for the boy, Feynriel? If Merrill knows the same ritual and can send some of us into Anders' location in the Fade like we went into Feynriel's...
[They might be able to talk. To Anders, to Justice, to Vengeance, to whatever's there. They might be able to kill- Justice, Vengeance, whatever's there. They might be able to make a deal to get some of the original Anders back, though what they have to offer that a demon would want besides another body, he doesn't know. There must be something.]
[And Hawke's no mage- he has no idea what the possibilities are. But he does know they are possibilities. Possibilities that don't necessarily end with anyone dying. He does acknowledge Isabela's idea as a good one, though, if they ever run completely out of options.]
Kidnapping could work, but let's try to leave that as the last resort. If we can't find anything from Tevinter, we'll try the Fade, and if that doesn't help-
[Then he supposes hostages it is. The further away from Kirkwall and any mages or templar, the better. But that would force Anders into Isabela's care and leave her alone to deal with it unless they all went with her, and who knew what would happen once he realized what was going on.]
I don't suppose Aveline or Sebastian would want to become a pirate for a while. Hopefully, we'll never have to ask...
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I wouldn't want to get your hopes up--much as I like watching your eyes bug out--but I might have a few contacts who could assist us where information is concerned. Tevinter-wise, that is. Gotta say, though, it's always a risk when you bring people in, especially the day-to-day well-informed. Even if they don't ask questions, they often send spies. Why, I'd be amazed if Hawke didn't have a few already.
With that lovely-and-not-at-all-worrisome thought in mind, I'm thinking we should focus on a good old Fade trek. I mean, why not? It's been a while since the lot of us went soul-searching. Maybe it's time to resent being dragged into that shit again. [He smirks.]
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[The way Hawke speaks of the others answers one question, at the least. That no, not everyone has been told about the Chantry. Fenris can see the logic behind it, he supposes. Sebastian and Aveline would immediately demand to see Anders. That something be done. That Anders himself is alerted to the fact that they all know, and possibly pushed into going into hiding from even them. The only reason he himself has been told is obviously out of necessity regarding Tevinter.
And he certainly hasn't proven himself particularly helpful with his own initial reaction. He still isn't proving himself helpful even now; he'd only meant to ask if Hawke had planned to kill Anders himself, not for other available options. But then Hawke had come up with one. One that almost sounds feasible. Even Isabela, an idea to end it bloodlessly, if not cure it for good.
And here Fenris is, still stuck in the same, habitual rut of kill the mage, kill the demon. Trying to help for the sake of a friend or not, he hadn't even bothered to think further than the standard solutions. An unsettling look into the workings of his own mind, and how limited and unchangeable they might be...
He picks up the parchment from the table that Hawke's been writing on and passes it to Varric to look at when he enters--all the names and key words should come in handy, if the dwarf has the contacts to search them out. Then, he looks back up across the table at the others, and the words are out before he can think about them.]
Take me with you.
[And when he does think about them, they make sense. It seems like he's done nothing right since last week. He's certainly done nothing right today, even though he had said he'd help. But that can change.]
Into the Fade. If Merrill is staying behind to do the sending, you'll need others to go with you. I owe those demons some misery for the first time...
[And more importantly, he has a promise of loyalty to keep.]
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Oh! Me too. Me too! I want to go, last time was interesting...
[She looks around, trying to remember the details of the ritual.]
Varric, me, Fenris, and you, Hawke - that's four, that's as many as you can send at once... and there, if Fenris is coming, we don't have to go get Aveline or Sebastian and have them flip out at us about law and religion and everything. Perfect.
[She claps with a jangle of bracelets, starting to grin, then turns the grin into a stern, hard glare that she shoots around the room.]
One boat comment and I'm going to shank you all. I have a ship and know what to watch out for now, all right? I'll be fine.
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[Listening to them makes a real smile pull at Hawke's mouth, though- and he lets it stay there for once as he looks around- for a little while, anyway. This is what a team should be, working together to help one of their own. Moments like this have become rarer and rarer as the years have gone by, but every time- every time their efforts make something hold together, it makes all the rest worth it...]
[Varric, he nods at- if anyone would go with him, Hawke had known it would be him. Isabela, he had assumed was a probably- if only for the new adventure. Fenris- he's still a little surprised at Fenris volunteering to go, to say the least, but he'll gladly take the offer now that it's been made, considering the alternatives.]
[And after what they'd all said after last time- he trusts them, to have his back.]
Right. Well.
[Back to leader mode.]
If Varric is going to go do his spy thing- which I'm sure will land us with more information than all of us can get through in a month, Maker save us- Isabela, do you think you could convince Merrill to help us? You seem to see her the most often. And Fenris-
[Right. He was a bit touchy about this- ]
If you ever happen to pass by the Chantry for whatever reason, checking the basement for any lingering saltpeter and drakestone might not be a bad idea. Isabela and I moved the first load out, but there's no reason not to be sure...
[And as for him- ]
I'll try to get Anders to visit Merrill's house somehow, when you get the date settled. If I can think of a convincing enough reason. Do you think Anders would come to a blood mage's birthday party?
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