sixthiterationlogs | Some things you can't run from

Entry tags:

Some things you can't run from

WHO: Anders
WHERE: fountain and inn
WHEN: December 29
OPEN TO: Fountain locked to Hawke, Inn open to all
WARNINGS: Confused mage, probably some yelling or worse once CERTAIN PEOPLE run into him, some discussion of death

Fountain: Hawke
Anders had prepared himself for many things on leaving his clinic for what he had expected to be the last time. For what might happen because of his actions, for what he suspected might very well be his death one way or another, and even for the look of hurt and betrayal in Hawke's eyes, although preparing himself for it hadn't made it hurt any less.

What he hadn't prepared for, as he sat and braced himself for the outcome he suspected - hoped - might finally be an end to everything, was the sudden rush of water all around him, bitterly cold and threatening to rob the breath from his lungs. It reminded him too vividly of Lake Calenhad at Kinloch Hold when he was younger and Anders oriented himself towards the pale flicker of light on the surface of the water and swam towards it. Dragging himself out he found it was a fountain in a village he didn't recognise.

"The Fade?" he wondered aloud, but abandoned the idea a moment later. It didn't feel right for the Fade, no pull at Justice or at his magic...

No feeling like that at all. Fighting a sense of panic, Anders focused his attention on his palm. A simple curl of magic, enough to glow and twine around his fingers, would be enough to reassure him. But nothing happened. He swallowed hard. He didn't know what had happened, if he were dead and this was to be part of his punishment or if something more sinister was at work here. But he knew that he wouldn't go quietly.

Spotting a figure nearby, Anders waved towards them. "Excuse me, I wonder if--" And then the figure turned and the words died in his throat. "Oh."

---

Inn: OTA
The cold was more bitter than Anders expected. Maybe it was because Darktown had been below the city, everyone packed in so closely that there'd barely been room for air, let alone cold. Or because of the clothing he had now and the soaking in the fountain. Either way, he tried to hide his shivering and sat close to the fire, hoping he might dry off and have a little time to process everything he'd learned.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hawke was often out and about, always moving. She's never been good at staying still, and death did not change that since it landed her in the middle of a village with people who needed her. Perhaps not as much as Kirkwall, since this is tiny and that was huge, but she was the huntress of the place and always ready to help out on projects. Patrols, check, watchtower preparation, check, scouting missions, check, and fountain visits, check check check. When she slowed down, she had to think, and thinking was for other people without a closet full of shadows.

She was in a rather good mood. She liked spending time by the fountain in case Bethany or Varric showed up, so her pace was casual and energetic, until she spotted someone coming out. The problem was, Hawke knew this particular form as well if not better than her own. She knew the lines of his body, the color of his hair, the way he held himself, and she was certain from miles away she'd be able to go yep, that's him. She hadn't seen him since the day they all left Kirkwall. She brought a blanket with her for new arrivals because the water was freezing, and her fingers clenched tightly into the fabric. Her instinct was to turn and walk away, there were others who could help him, but then he spoke.

The sound echoed through her ears and she sucked in a deep breath before turning toward him again. There were a lot of things she wanted to do right then. Most of them involved fury of some kind. Her jaw clenched and she simply threw the blanket at him. "Just so you know, if it wasn't freezing out here, I would toss you right back in that bloody fountain, Anders." Instead she gave him something to warm up with, so really, she was being charitable.

He caught the blanket on instinct, fingers clutching at the fabric mindlessly as Anders found himself struck dumb for a moment. She was here and every bit as angry as he deserved, and yet still heartrendingly beautiful.

"This... this can't be happening," he said after a moment. The blanket felt real as did the biting cold, but he knew that meant little. "This is the Fade after all, or I've died. That has to be it. You can't be here."

Classic. People from their world assumed the Fade quickly, but it was no wonder. She died in the Fade, so it certainly took her a time to adjust to believing this was real. If he thought this was the Fade or death though, it must have meant that Varric somehow found him with the bad news. "This place is something of an afterlife, for some of us. Not for everyone. But I am here." He could be dead though. Fuck, what if he was dead too? She felt sick to her stomach at the thought, and hated that she did. This bloody man.

"Will you wrap the damn blanket around yourself!" She yelled at him. She wasn't entirely certain she could get through a conversation with him without most of it being yelling. "Pick up your pack and follow me to the inn!" It was a good thing she had no blades on her. Not that she'd actually hurt him, no, although she might feel tempted to throw knives to the side of him just to get it out of her system. Hawke needed to compose herself so she turned her back on him and started walking.

The inn was warm and comfortable, especially for her as she used to live there, and sh might be less likely to break things in there.

An afterlife made sense, but Hawke being here didn't. She should be alive and if not well then he knew that she would manage. She always had, better than he had. But he suspected he knew the answer to that as well, although before Anders could say anything more Hawke snapped at him and started off, leaving him to stumble after her.

Awkwardly draping the blanket around his shoulders (although why it would really matter he couldn't say), Anders located the pack and started after Hawke, following at a distance as she led the way to what seemed to be an inn.

"It's alright, you know," he said once he'd caught up. He glanced around the inn but focused more on Hawke. "I know what's happening. I'm dead, I died at Kirkwall, and you and all of this are the Void created to punish me. You don't have to pretend."

Hawke was trying to take deep breaths without making it obvious that she was calming herself down. So far in this place no one had seen her as anything but the sunny and boisterous Hawke, and her sharp eyes looked around the inn to be certain no one else was there. She liked being that person to them. There was a fire going there so he could dry off, and she kept her back to him, until he talked.

She turned to look at him, startled, and tried to do some mental math. Time was different after all, but he looked appropriately guilty so it had to be after the Chantry. But he thought he was dead. In the battle? Or before that? "If the Void was trying to punish you, I'd already have beaten your head in, wouldn't I? This is hardly torture." She pointed at a chair by the fire. "Sit."

Hawke rubbed a hand against her chin. So he didn't know about her. She'd save that bomb for later. "Why would you think you're dead? Because we made it out of Kirkwall."

His lips curled in a sad smile as she said that this was hardly torture. "This is exactly torture," Anders said, although he took the chair as directed and moved the blanket to drape over his legs and give his torso a chance to dry. "At least if you were beating my head in, it would be exactly as I deserved. Not a kindness that I don't."

Her words made him more certain he was right, although it wasn't really making the situation any easier to deal with. Hallucination as he died or construction of the Void, she still looked like Hawke and that was what hurt.

"You'll make it out of Kirkwall, I'm certain," he explained to the figure. "But I don't doubt what will happen to me. Meredith is insane, but she's right to demand my head for my actions. Not that killing me will stop it now, but it will mean that you'll be able to leave Kirkwall without being branded a traitor as well. They'll be able to see you had no idea what I was planning and that makes it all worthwhile."

Hawke stared at him. Alright. She knew now what he was talking about. Perhaps it looked like a terrible and difficult choice on the outside, but it was not difficult at all in reality. Hawke would never let one of her people die in front of her. Whether they deserved it or not. "You really think I would allow that?" She remembered her companions waiting on her decision, like she really even had an option outside of the one she took. Allow the mages to die? Never. Allow him to die? Never. Only Varric and Isabela knew with certainty what she would do, knowing her as they did.

He didn't know her that well. And here she thought he knew her the best. The fantasies someone in love told themselves, how sad.

"This place is not the Fade and it is not the Void. It is not our world, it is another, and we come from different times. Which I know all sounds insane, but it's very real." Hawke wanted to just walk out of there, honestly. To keep herself from that temptation, she sat down, hunched over, staring at her hands instead of at him. "Meredith is dead. We fought her after she went fucking insane and tried to murder all the mages. Thanks to your actions, we still couldn't save everyone." Hawke didn't know how many died, but it was far from a bloodless event. That blood still stained her even now. "Orsino's dead too. But congratulations, you kept your head. Maybe now you'll use it."

Edited 2018-12-30 01:29 (UTC)

In his heart, Anders knew that Hawke couldn't have done as he expected, although he wrestled with himself as to if he'd secretly wanted that or hoped he might be wrong. He still couldn't say if it was relief he felt at the idea that Hawke might let him live, or if he had to hope this were simply a cruel dream after all.

"I think you should have allowed it," he said instead, turning away to stare into the fire instead. "It would have been better for you, and no one would fault you it. Not even me."

He remained silent, staring pensively into the flames as Hawke continued and he could almost imagine it playing out in his mind. That Meredith died... well he couldn't lie well enough to say he would be sorry to see her go, but even tired as he was, he felt a familiar, old anger bristling at some of her words.

"Meredith was insane well and truly before I did anything," he retorted, turning to shoot Hawke a look. "All of Kirkwall had been falling apart for years. All I did was push it all to the point where no one could pretend it wasn't happening any more."

"If you think I would let someone kill a person I loved in front of me, you don't know me as well as I thought you did," she said bluntly. "I wouldn't hand Isabela over, or have you forgotten?" Isabela's actions led to deaths as well, to Kirkwall being dominated by the qunari, and she almost left the group to handle all of her mess. But she did come back. And Hawke fought the Arishok to the death to save her. It was a lesser betrayal than what Anders did. It didn't tear her heart out of her chest and burn it to blackness. But the comparison was apt all the same.

Hawke didn't regret Meredith being gone in the least bit. She always loathed the woman. From the first time they met, it was clear that the two of them would never get along. Meredith was cold and cruel, and Hawke was warm and rebellious, but they managed at least for a time to keep to their corners. She was glad Orsino was dead too, even if a part of her sympathized with him, but he was partially responsible for her mother's death.

The rage flowed into her, burning as hot as the fire, and she jumped to her feet, glaring at him. "You still think you did the right thing? Oh possibly because you haven't lived the bloody aftermath, Anders, but I have." Hawke got right into his line of vision, stepping in close. "People died, because of you, mages died, Kirkwall was partially destroyed, we all were scattered to the winds. My friends, your friends, took on the burden of what happened that day." Even the ones who didn't want to, like Aveline and Fenris, who turned against what they might ordinarily have done because of loyalty to her.

Beneath it all was hurt. And heartbreak. There was no going back. "Things weren't perfect in Kirkwall, but blowing it up didn't save it. You could have talked to me, trusted me. You made me a part of destroying the place I swore to protect. The city I loved."

There's a certain shell-shocked look to the new fountain arrivals who warmed up in front of the inn fireplace -- as Brigitte should well know, considering she was one of them just five days ago. So she'd developed an eye for them when she happened to be eating in the common room, her attention ticking over whenever someone else trod in through the doors, blanket-wrapped and dripping water. This one had seemed to have a particularly difficult initiation conversation and was now alone, shoulders around his ears and huddling in front of the fire like a miserable, drowned cat.

Again: she knew the feeling well.

So Brig went to the kitchen to fetch a mug of tea, as Anne had done for her, and walked right back over and shoved it into the man's hands. "Here," she said. "You kind of look like you need it."

Anders jumped, startled out of his own thoughts by the sudden cup of tea and the woman offering it, and stumbled over a 'thank you' as he accepted it. It was hot enough to make his hands ache and drive home how cold he'd been, and he had to shift his grip with it a few times, although the heat was appreciated enough to make it worthwhile.

"Is it that obvious?" he asked, giving her a tired smile. "I still can't believe this is really happening."

"Kind of," Brigitte admitted, almost apologetically. "The water is a dead giveaway. Most people don't jump in the fountain in December for fun."

The brunette rested her hands against the back of an empty chair, leaning against it -- giving him space, but still standing close enough to offer some companionship. That lost look in his eyes was too close to home, and she didn't know what she would've done without people to welcome her in and show her these small kindnesses, anyhow. "I just came here five days ago, so believe me, I understand. I was celebrating the holidays with my family, and then..."

A wave of her hand, indicating the inn (and village) around them.

Cold, shaking, and clearly looking a bit lost? Yes, Reeve recognized all of the signs. He'd been coming downstairs to refill his water and get a bite to eat before Brigitte set in on him for not taking care of himself ~~bless the young woman for her care~~, and had instead seen this. Almost immediately Reeve had gone back upstairs to his room, pulled the blanket from his bed, and returned downstairs. Not much, but he did drape it over the man's shoulders.

"I don't know if anyone has told you, but the bag you arrived with is waterproof and inside there is a change of clean, dry, and most importantly warm, winter clothes. If you would like, you can borrow my room to change."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Some things you can't run from

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Inn

no subject

no subject

Inn