sixthiterationlogs | you know the rules and so do I

WHO: Marian Hawke
WHERE: Multiple places!
WHEN: Anywhere between December 10-19thish
OPEN TO: Filters to Iron Bull, Frank Castle, Finnick Odair, Elektra Natchios, and then OTA!
WARNINGS: Swearing. Updated: Sex in the Connor thread.

FOR BULL

Hawke likes a lot of things about being there. For one, she always feels useful. For two, she doesn't have to be in charge. For three, she gets to meet all kinds of people. For four, some of them are people she already wanted to get to know better. It's very easy to volunteer to partner up with Bull during patrols, as he is simply marvelous company and it is occasionally nice to spend time with someone from her own world. Less people to question phrases or terms she says. Varric was right about Bull being someone their group would have liked.

"So I got Wicked Grace decks out of no where the other day, I was thinking of teaching people how to play." She has her bow slung over her shoulder. "Also my official bow, but it was broken up into a set. It shouldn't be that hard to put it together with some help."

FOR FINNICK

Hawke gets it in her head to go check in on Annie, the first person she met in this odd place, after seeing some of the native birds and thinking of those adorable little geese. Also to let her know a bit about the extra meat just brought in, in case she wanted any. It wasn't too hard to ask around and describe the woman enough to get directions, and that's how she ended up at the Windemere house.

Her dark hair is braided and her bow is left behind for now, peering around. "Oi, Annie, you around here, love?" She didn't know that she'd be meeting a different member of the family altogether.

FOR FRANK

Hawke found a reasonable set of gloves that worked with her bow, although they would never be as good as gloves that were specifically designed for an archer. But they were tolerable. Which is good, because Hawke goes out in the field enough to need it for when everything is colder. She picked up some other warm things to get by, but she found that they're simply not cutting it on her latest patrols and scouting. She heard around that Frank was the man to see about getting some warmer things without having to share them with everyone else, so she got directions to his place.

It was day time and cold, but sunny at least. She was sans bow and arrows since that was only necessary when she planned on using them. Hawke knocks on the door.

FOR ELEKTRA

Hawke is delighted to find several gifts waiting for her one morning, including beloved daggers and decks of Wicked Grace. The daggers however she simply has to immediately show off, even if it'll take a bit before she can come up with a good harness or set of sheaths for her back. She has a particularly chipper skip to her step today, wandering into the village to see who she could catch. She spots a familiar dark head from not too far away.

"Elektra!" Hawke gets warm fuzzies whenever she sees people she has good memories with. She has this gut feeling that Elektra would approve of these finely crafted matching daggers. "Look at what was randomly delivered to me over night!"

OPEN TO ALL

Hawke is someone easy to spot and meet around the village. She has lunch at the inn every day and will chatter at anyone there. She as usual can be found at the fountain here and there in case someone shows up, but she is now working on her sewing instead of creating arrows. She sometimes has some mischief and bathes nude in the hot springs. It gets cold out there! She's shameless. Finally she just generally scouts around the perimeter of the village, especially at night, with her knives and bow. She is very friendly. Just say hi. Or run while you can.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hawke listens with rapt interest. It isn't that different from a lot of tales she's heard, of people wanting to get out of the life forced on them, to become something more. She also understands well when you simply can't get outside of the role you were given. Hawke had the freedom to use her skills in various ways, but it didn't change that she was raised to kill and it continued into her profession. The idea of being something else, like a merchant or a politician or leader, never occurred to her.

The thing is, something doesn't ring quite true, and Hawke has an ear for what sounds off. It's the tone he's had in their conversation, the way he speaks so carefully about where he's from and the restrictions, and how he's watching her now. She narrows her eyes at him.

"You're leaving out some holes, aren't you?" It's not a question although it's framed like one, so it doesn't come off as an accusation, as that's not the purpose. But she's curious what exactly she's missing in these terms that has him so tense. He volunteered for some kind of games to get fame and fortune, and then he won and got just that. But he regretted it, from his tone. Not just for the fame.

"What're the Hunger Games?"

Maybe he's gotten a little complacent after so long here and the feeling it's out of the Capitol's gaze, no matter how much they're manipulated. Or maybe he's just avoiding explaining every detail after so many explanations since he came here. He's usually good at skimming over things or outright deception, but he knows he hadn't really been trying very hard to lie.

"It's a little more complicated," he admits. "The Games, they're not just a competition. They're a fight. To the death. It's a punishment to the districts for rebelling against the Capitol. The names of a boy and a girl from each district are drawn at random and they're the ones who go to the arena, unless someone else volunteers. Twenty-four children go in, and only the victor comes out. The victor's district gets extra food for the next year, and the victor gets a mansion and enough money to be rich for the rest of their life."

His voice is heavily laced with bitterness as he finishes.

"It's supposed to make it all worthwhile, having a victor every year. The hope that next year, it could be someone from your district."

Hawke listens with growing horror. She is a brutal killer herself, and she was raised to fight, to kill, to survive. Because it was necessary, and it was still a choice. Perhaps she could have picked a different life, given the chance, there was a great deal Hawke was capable of that required less violence. But violence was in her blood. Still, the one thing she never messed around with was kids. If people hurt kids, if they got kids involved in their business, that was a one way ticket to the Champion chopping a head or a limb off. She knew the world was a cruel place, and that children unfortunately got drawn in to that, but it was still her mission to keep them out of it if possible.

This sort of bullshit wasn't exactly a surprise. Not from a twisted government. Not from people, because people were sometimes horrible pricks. It's not that Hawke is startled by the facts, but she is infuriated by them. "Fuck that," she spits out, anger rising up in her. Injustice is not a new thing, but this sort of control over the population just really hits all her bad buttons.

She has no where to aim her anger, so it's a living and breathing thing within her. Her jovial and charming persona has taken a backseat to Marian Hawke at her most righteous. "Those psychotic pricks." She doesn't know what to do with this, scowling. "That's it, we find a bloody way back to your world, I'm going with you, and I'm going to fucking slaughter every one of those bastards in charge." Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall, does not make idle promises. "I've killed dragons and the finest of qunari warriors, cowards who kill children won't last a minute."

"You'd need to fight through an army first."

He's not defeatist when he says it, because before he'd come here, he'd been on the edge of maybe being a part of something that could take on that army, for the first time in his life, in anybody's life since the Dark Days. But the fact that Hawke would want to be a part of that fight if she were there stirs him to more than a simple refutation. She's furious, and she wants to destroy Snow and all his cronies just as much as Finnick does, just from his explanation.

It's the fury that makes Finnick go on. He watches her, sees the clear anger, hears the assessment of her own abilities and history. She's more than just someone who'd dropped by looking for Annie. She can be an ally.

"You know those lists on the computers in the bunker? Lists of names of people here, and other people, who aren't here? The President of Panem was on those lists. If he shows up here, Annie and I are going to kill him for what he's done to us. We could use your help."

"I've fought through an army before and I'll do it again." Hawke is not messing around. She sounds deadly serious when she says it, and she is. She's a one woman army all on her own, although it is always better to have friends along with her for the big ones. She was taking on a horrifically giant monster in the Fade all by herself before she came here, and she had a pretty good feeling she'd at least be able to kill it before she herself died. For all her smiles and kindness, she is a warrior first.

She listens and nods very seriously. "Oh, believe me, my darling, I will hold the bastard down for you if need be." Hawke knows who deserves final kills and therefore will support them in whatever they need. Vengeance does taste better when done personally.

[Maybe wrap? Murder buddies! lol]

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