SANCTUM AND HEALING (1/?)
anonymous
November 26 2011, 21:58:25 UTC
The amount of nervousness I am feeling at the moment cannot be expressed, so I will simply say thank you for the prompt, OP, and I hope that this suits! It has been a long, long while since I have filled a prompt on here, and I just hope that it pleases you, and that it does not get too long! (Though I can make no promises.) ♥ I sincerely hope that you enjoy!There were too many tentacles in the depths of Kal’Hirol
( ... )
Re: SANCTUM AND HEALING (9b/?)
anonymous
November 27 2011, 18:14:01 UTC
screaming oh my god what a cliffhanger!! i love the atmosphere and the cold and the cowled hawke with weary weight of years and i can't wait to see what's brought him here and what he does with anders (oh ho!) when he has him alone. i will be waiting with anxiously bated breath!
(Captcha says: despondency boalys. Why yes, captcha, I will be despondent until there is more.)
SANCTUM AND HEALING (10/?)
anonymous
November 28 2011, 21:59:59 UTC
It looks to be that time again! First of all, thanks so much for the comments on the opening bit! The feedback is lovely and I have missed posting here more than I can say. Though I cannot say I have missed all the nervousness...! But I just truly, truly hope that the next installment pleases, and that you continue to enjoy reading it! All everything crossed, as usual!
The camp was smaller than the sort the Warden Commander liked to keep, and he preferred traveling with only a few of his closest allies-friends, as he called them; any port in a storm, and any companion in a Blight. They ran into no one on their way, past a scarce collection of tents, pitched in the shadow of the mountains proper. The Vimmark Mountains, Anders didn’t have to remind himself, which last he checked weren’t in Ferelden but on the other side of the Waking Sea, deeper inland of the Free Marches than Kirkwall. An unpleasant place, as far as Anders was concerned, with all sorts
( ... )
SANCTUM AND HEALING (11/?)
anonymous
November 28 2011, 22:00:56 UTC
‘You are…still alive,’ the elf said, in deep tones. The lines of white vallaslin on his chin and throat flickered just once.
Maybe it was a trick of the mountain sunlight.
‘So are you,’ Hawke replied.
‘Yet with each passing meeting, the likelihood ever dwindles,’ the elf concluded.
Anders felt more like a trespasser than ever, standing with Varric beside the flap and outside the action, and when Anders looked his way, the dwarf shrugged.
‘Can’t make this stuff up,’ he said. ‘So to answer your question: yeah. They really talk like this
( ... )
SANCTUM AND HEALING (12/?)
anonymous
November 28 2011, 22:01:45 UTC
It was Varric who took his seat there, though Anders could feel the dwarf’s eyes lingering on him-just as he could feel the sight of the mechanized crossbow, also lingering, should he attempt to make a run for it.
Anders’s ankle gave an untimely throb, almost as though it meant to remind him how well that escape plan would fare. And if he did run, where would he go? The City of Chains was out of the question, just like a man wouldn’t run from the darkspawn into the burbling pits of the Blackmarsh while imagining a preferable outcome.
Anders wished he’d asked Nathaniel more about his time in the Free Marches, boring as those stories were, without all the danger and roguish excitement and sexual charm he’d expected. Mostly, he wished Nathaniel had mentioned the mountain mages, and whether Ostwick had a port that sailed ships back to Ferelden, taking wanted apostates on board for little to no coin.
Fenris continued to stare Anders down-he might just as well have been the demon, a gaze bestowed with more deadly promise than Varric’s
( ... )
SANCTUM AND HEALING (13/?)
anonymous
November 28 2011, 22:02:31 UTC
Hawke waved a hand more quietly. ‘As my good friend Varric always says-when it rains, it pours.’
‘A charming sentiment,’ Fenris said. ‘And, like so many of the rest: it explains nothing.’
‘Nothing we can figure out for ourselves, you mean,’ Hawke replied. He shrugged, broad muscles in his back beneath the fall of his vestments, and the only reason Anders knew there was a twinge of pain hidden there was because he was a trained and seasoned professional. Not even Hawke’s companions noticed it.
Other people’s discomfort-in the midst of his own-made Anders feel not better but at least not worse. There was camaraderie in agony; it was why so many people accepted that misery loved company at the best and worst of times, no matter who or what you were.
‘Still,’ Hawke continued, ‘there are other ways to learn whether our new friend is who he says he is.’
Fenris snorted again, deep in the back of his throat. ‘What he says he is
( ... )
SANCTUM AND HEALING (14/?)
anonymous
November 28 2011, 22:03:14 UTC
‘No kidding,’ Varric agreed. ‘I’ve been pretty blocked these days, too. Have I mentioned that lately? Can’t write about my usual source material, either, since if that kind of thing falls into the wrong hands…’
‘I need my fresh air now,’ Anders said, cold sweat making his staff slide along his palms. He didn’t want to be out in the cold again or even under an open sky, but the close air of the tent wasn’t preferable to sunlight-even if it did shift in slim and slight over the toothy mountain peaks, nothing so broad and open as an Amaranthine field.
‘I hear you,’ Varric told him. ‘Time for walkies. The elf’s back, and we don’t have time to waste, Hawke. Gotta get to the next point before one of Sebastian’s men gets to this one.’
‘Oh, Varric,’ Hawke said. ‘How would I tell my ass from my elbow if you weren’t around to do it for me
( ... )
SANCTUM AND HEALING (15/?)
anonymous
November 28 2011, 22:04:05 UTC
‘Sure sounds like the story of Hawke’s life-and I should know, since I’m the one who keeps trying to write it.’ Varric rubbed his leather glove against his broad jaw, mouth easing into a smile. The tension in Anders’s lower back eased with it, soothed away by bluff fingers and broad hands. Varric-unlike other dwarves Anders had known-had a talent for setting a man at ease with the twinkle in his eye, the furrow in his blond brow, the smile on his face. The fact that he didn’t buffet friend and foe alike with blasted belches helped to foster his healing aura. ‘But I can’t lie, Blondie-that kind of mix-up’d make for a better yarn than the usual fare. Royalty hiding out in an apostate camp in the Vimmark Mountains? The king being an apostate himself? You could ride down there, sign a treaty and end the war, neat as you please. It’s not the sort of thing you could wrap up in one novel, though. …Maybe a series
( ... )
SANCTUM AND HEALING (16/?)
anonymous
November 28 2011, 22:04:46 UTC
He wanted to heal it, but the trip down would just hurt the soft skin all over again, and if he never let himself callus, he’d be in some kind of pain forever
( ... )
SANCTUM AND HEALING (17/?)
anonymous
November 28 2011, 22:06:01 UTC
‘I’m not good with short stories.’ Varric’s fingers found a stick resting against his boulder, and he dragged the tip along the ground, through the trail dirt and small, broken rocks. ‘Leaving out the details-what took us from point A to point B in the first place-just seems wrong, especially when you consider the bigger picture. And this one’s not exactly the kind of heartwarming tale you tell around a campfire to reassure the new guy, but…’ He gave a shrug, as though to say his hands were tied. As though Varric was the one who’d been taken prisoner.
Anders wasn’t about to fall for that.
‘Go on,’ he said.
‘For you,’ Varric continued, ‘I’ll make it short and sweet. No fuss, no mess. Clean as it can be, under the circumstances. Here’s the thing-about ten years back, we knew this mage with a mission. And he had this…spirit of Justice in him-I swear to you on the dirty thaigs of my ancestors, that’s not some kind of a euphemism. Now, camp’s pretty equally split on whether or not that made him an abomination, but this isn’t one of
( ... )
SANCTUM AND HEALING (18/?)
anonymous
November 28 2011, 22:06:43 UTC
‘He’s king now, actually.’ Varric chuckled, like Anders was in on the joke. ‘Can you believe that? King Sebastian Vael, the Divine’s own right arm. He used to turn red as an Orlesian tomato when Isabela flirted with him, and now he’s helping the Maker crush these mage rebellions every chance he gets-a hero for his cause, and with martyr blood on his hands to prove it
( ... )
SANCTUM AND HEALING (18b/?)
anonymous
November 28 2011, 22:09:12 UTC
‘Riiiight.’ Anders did his best to muster a laugh from the depths of his chest, but it lost its strength halfway through his throat, and died right there on his lips. ‘But Exalted Marches are kind of a big deal. For Fereldans and Wardens and lonely apostates. Especially for lonely apostates-but mostly for everyone. I mean, I would have heard of it already, for one thing. Chantries being blown sky high and Starkhaven amassing templar armies and the like. It’s not just the sort of thing you miss during a day or two in the Deep Roads, is it?’
‘Happened way back in 9:37 Dragon.’ Varric shook his head with the look a man wore when he started to think-more deeply than was necessary-about how many years he’d seen, how many years he had left to live. ‘Can’t believe how long ago it was, either. Good thing gray hair doesn’t run in the family. Could you imagine this chest getting all silver?’
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(Captcha says: despondency boalys. Why yes, captcha, I will be despondent until there is more.)
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I love it so far - the beginning is very intriguing and I'm really curious what will happen in next parts. *bookmarks*
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The camp was smaller than the sort the Warden Commander liked to keep, and he preferred traveling with only a few of his closest allies-friends, as he called them; any port in a storm, and any companion in a Blight. They ran into no one on their way, past a scarce collection of tents, pitched in the shadow of the mountains proper. The Vimmark Mountains, Anders didn’t have to remind himself, which last he checked weren’t in Ferelden but on the other side of the Waking Sea, deeper inland of the Free Marches than Kirkwall. An unpleasant place, as far as Anders was concerned, with all sorts ( ... )
Reply
Maybe it was a trick of the mountain sunlight.
‘So are you,’ Hawke replied.
‘Yet with each passing meeting, the likelihood ever dwindles,’ the elf concluded.
Anders felt more like a trespasser than ever, standing with Varric beside the flap and outside the action, and when Anders looked his way, the dwarf shrugged.
‘Can’t make this stuff up,’ he said. ‘So to answer your question: yeah. They really talk like this ( ... )
Reply
Anders’s ankle gave an untimely throb, almost as though it meant to remind him how well that escape plan would fare. And if he did run, where would he go? The City of Chains was out of the question, just like a man wouldn’t run from the darkspawn into the burbling pits of the Blackmarsh while imagining a preferable outcome.
Anders wished he’d asked Nathaniel more about his time in the Free Marches, boring as those stories were, without all the danger and roguish excitement and sexual charm he’d expected. Mostly, he wished Nathaniel had mentioned the mountain mages, and whether Ostwick had a port that sailed ships back to Ferelden, taking wanted apostates on board for little to no coin.
Fenris continued to stare Anders down-he might just as well have been the demon, a gaze bestowed with more deadly promise than Varric’s ( ... )
Reply
‘A charming sentiment,’ Fenris said. ‘And, like so many of the rest: it explains nothing.’
‘Nothing we can figure out for ourselves, you mean,’ Hawke replied. He shrugged, broad muscles in his back beneath the fall of his vestments, and the only reason Anders knew there was a twinge of pain hidden there was because he was a trained and seasoned professional. Not even Hawke’s companions noticed it.
Other people’s discomfort-in the midst of his own-made Anders feel not better but at least not worse. There was camaraderie in agony; it was why so many people accepted that misery loved company at the best and worst of times, no matter who or what you were.
‘Still,’ Hawke continued, ‘there are other ways to learn whether our new friend is who he says he is.’
Fenris snorted again, deep in the back of his throat. ‘What he says he is ( ... )
Reply
‘I need my fresh air now,’ Anders said, cold sweat making his staff slide along his palms. He didn’t want to be out in the cold again or even under an open sky, but the close air of the tent wasn’t preferable to sunlight-even if it did shift in slim and slight over the toothy mountain peaks, nothing so broad and open as an Amaranthine field.
‘I hear you,’ Varric told him. ‘Time for walkies. The elf’s back, and we don’t have time to waste, Hawke. Gotta get to the next point before one of Sebastian’s men gets to this one.’
‘Oh, Varric,’ Hawke said. ‘How would I tell my ass from my elbow if you weren’t around to do it for me ( ... )
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Anders wasn’t about to fall for that.
‘Go on,’ he said.
‘For you,’ Varric continued, ‘I’ll make it short and sweet. No fuss, no mess. Clean as it can be, under the circumstances. Here’s the thing-about ten years back, we knew this mage with a mission. And he had this…spirit of Justice in him-I swear to you on the dirty thaigs of my ancestors, that’s not some kind of a euphemism. Now, camp’s pretty equally split on whether or not that made him an abomination, but this isn’t one of ( ... )
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‘Happened way back in 9:37 Dragon.’ Varric shook his head with the look a man wore when he started to think-more deeply than was necessary-about how many years he’d seen, how many years he had left to live. ‘Can’t believe how long ago it was, either. Good thing gray hair doesn’t run in the family. Could you imagine this chest getting all silver?’
‘Now I know you’re lying,’ Anders said ( ... )
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