sixthiterationlogs | the champion's rogue heart

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the champion's rogue heart

WHO: Astrid Hawke
WHERE: Fountain, Inn
WHEN: April 26th and 27th
OPEN TO: ALL
WARNINGS: TBD
STATUS: OPEN

April 26th - Fountain, Midday

Hawke is fairly certain that the Nightmare Demon she was fighting didn't have the ability to make her drown. Then again, she was in the Fade last she checked and the Fade is malleable enough to manage that. Still, the demon knows she hates spiders most of all. Why it would try to drown her is beyond her comprehension at the moment.

Not that she minds not staring at giant arachnids at the moment, but it is confusing.

Those thoughts flit across her mind as she struggles to push herself to the surface of the water. She can see it glinting above her like Isabela's ship, like a priceless personal goal that's just out of reach. Just a little further. She reaches, her hand breaks through, and then she's sucking in deep lungfuls of air as she pushes herself up and out, nearly falling over the edge and onto the ground below. For a few seconds, she just lies there, catching her breath and looking around for any sign of the Nightmare Demon.

Nothing. Groaning to herself about the way her life has gone, she finally rolls over and pushes herself to her feet. "That's two apologies the Chantry owes me," she complains with her usual dry humor. "This doesn't look like the Maker's bosom, either."

April 27th - Inn

Hawke takes up a room at the Inn at the first opportunity and her first day is spent just trying to cope. Of course, Hawke's version of coping is hardly the same as everyone else's, so mostly she stays away and tries to figure out what she can. She gets the main idea of the place and that's enough. No one has heard of Thedas. It's enough to make a girl crazy.

So the next day, she hangs out in the Inn proper and not in her room. It almost reminds her of the Hanged Man and that realization brings with it a squeeze of pain. She misses her companions, even if it was her choice to leave Kirkwall. She wonders vaguely how Bethany is doing, if Isabela has managed to find herself a new ship, if Fenris ever cleaned his estate, what Merrill is doing now, and if Aveline and Donnic have decided to try for children. They would make good parents, she thinks. Her mind wanders to Varric and she finds herself smiling into her cup of tea as she sits by the fire. She misses him most of all and she knows he probably misses her, too. He and Aveline were her best friends and she really misses their counsel. And Varric's very broad sense of humor and storytelling.

She keeps her mind pointedly away from Anders. That is a subject she would rather avoid.

Once she has drained her cup, with or without company, she sets about asking for work, trying to see if anyone needs any kind of help. Anyone nearby may find her walking up to start a conversation with a quick, "Mind if I ask you something?" If they say no, she'll start asking and hopefully not badgering, but if they say no, she'll politely leave them alone. Or as politely as possible.

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Hawke's interest level immediately rises, her eyebrows arching with it. Bows. She misses her bow and all of her other supplies. Mostly her bow, though. If she could find one for herself, she would be really happy, but for now she might be able to settle for sharing. It would mean actually being able to do something she understands. Something she's done for most of her life.

"I've been shooting a bow since before I could walk," she replies jokingly. "Does anyone else go hunting with you?" If not, maybe he would be a good person to help show her around. She could use a friendly face anyway.

"Never heard of Westeros, either. I guess we're mutually lacking in knowledge." She does pause as she realizes she might actually have to tell him her name. That would never happen in Thedas. Or very rarely anyway. Most people know her, if not on sight then definitely by name. "Call me Hawke. Everyone else does."

"I normally take to the woods alone just before dawn but if you'd like to accompany me, I would be happy to show you where the good game is," Jon said. He gave her a brief smile, just a flash of teeth in an otherwise dour face.

"Jon Snow. Well met, Hawke. How did you come by such a name? Are you that keen an eye? I might be replaced on the bow if that's the case."

"Good game?" Hawke asks, her humor shining through as usual. "Oh do the animals know how to play Wicked Grace? I could really go for a hand at that."

She pauses, realizing that her joke has probably fallen flat, and then chooses to ignore it and push on.

"It's my family name, on my father's side," she explains. "For some reason everyone started calling me that when we moved to Kirkwall and it just stuck." She doesn't mind, though if Carver had lived that might have been another wedge between them. "We'll have to find out who has the bird's eye view, won't we?"

If she knew the turn of phrase involving eagles, she might have made a play on that instead. Oh well.

Jon laughed a bit and shook his head. He didn't know what Wicked Grace was but he could tell a joke when he heard one and it was slightly at his expense, yes, but it wasn't unkind.

"Well, I meant where they tend to populate, is all, which I imagine you could extract from that. If you're as good a sight as your family name indicates, we'll be glad to have you here. We can always use more good shots."

Hawke considers for another few minutes, letting her gaze wander back to the fire. The flames flickering up and down give her a sense of comfort, small though it is. The sight reminds her of home and if she focuses enough on it, she can almost convince herself that she's staring into a fireplace at the estate. Except that it's much cleaner here. Hilariously.

She misses Bodahn and Sandal. They were constants at the estate, constants in her life. She misses a lot of the way things were.

"I can imagine so," she says rather than get into any of that. Best to push that aside. "It doesn't look like food is overflowing here." It hadn't really been in Kirkwall, either, but the situation there was much better than what she can see here so far. "If you have time to show me tomorrow morning, I'd like to learn."

"We eat well enough but if more people come, it will be scarce," Jon said, nodding quickly. "So I would be happy to show you where I typically hunt in the morning. I could use the help. We all could."

He smiled just a bit, trying to be welcoming. "Tell me more about this Thedas, if you would?"

That makes sense. It's something to keep in mind, but at the same time they can't afford to ration too much.

"I'm always happy to help," she says honestly. Although his question about Thedas has one of her eyebrows rising. That's a difficult question to answer. "Anything in particular you want to know or shall I start with prejudice, darkspawn, demons, and how everyone wants to kill each other?"

Jon snorted a bit. It seemed an impressive list, even if he didn't know what half of those things meant. He did understand the last, though, and he appreciated her acerbic wit. It was amusing to him.

"I feel like you would enjoy my sister, Arya," Jon said. "She could talk to you quite a bit about people killing one another."

Well, at least this is one person who appreciates her special brand of humor. That's a good sign. Not everyone can handle her these days.

"Oh? Are there a lot of thugs in Westeros?" Hawke asks, her interest piqued in spite of herself. "Is it possible to offend someone just by offering to help?"

That had been fun. Not that she could really blame the Dalish, she did understand in a way thanks to Merrill, but at the same time the whole lot of that clan was really bitter.

Jon couldn't help but laugh again at that. He laughed much easier these days, that was true, but this woman was truly blessed with an impressive sense of humor. Even he could see that, as blind as he normally was to such things. He shook his head a bit.

"No, she just...would prefer to be a warrior than work on her needlework, if that means anything to you. She has a lot of anger to work out."

Admittedly, Hawke had adapted and cultivated her sense of humor over the years in Kirkwall. It wasn't always a part of her and she's still figuring out what people think of as "funny" and what she can get away with saying, what helps and what doesn't. It's nice to find someone who appreciates her dry humor, though. Not everyone does.

Then again, in Thedas, people get offended if someone offers to help so it's really a toss-up no matter what happens.

"Anger management issues? She should talk to Fenris. They would get along smashingly."

Except maybe she should not set up the young girl with a former slave with issues. It could go badly. Or it could be the greatest friendship ever. Who really knows?

"Probably would. My sister has...strange choice in friends. The other one is a little more traditional," Jon explained. He and Sansa had grown closer now than they ever were as children and he had come to appreciate her shrewd mind for politics and her ability to use her wit and tongue to get out of a situation rather than a sword.

"But she's very intelligent, one of the most intelligent people I've ever met. Do you have any siblings?"

"I think I'd like to meet her," Hawke says genuinely before the question that follows makes her pause. She probably should have expected it, given their topic of conversation, but having someone actually ask her about her siblings is never quite on her list of things she wants to deal with.

"Yes. My sister, Bethany. She isn't here and I don't know that I would want her to be." Especially if it means this is the afterlife, whatever it is. Hawke misses Bethany so much, but given Hawke's current status as most likely dead, she can't imagine Bethany would take it lightly. On the other hand Carver might have been a little shit, but she misses him, too.

"Bethany was always too sweet for Thedas. Smart, though I'm sure she would get along better with your other sibling."

"That's a lovely name, Bethany. It's one that gets used in Westeros sometimes," Jon said. There had been a woman of some house in the south with that name; Jon had overheard the lessons his lord father had given Robb and tried to commit as much to memory as he could even though he knew he'd never be a Lord of Winterfell.

And now? Now he was apparently the King in the North.

"Why wouldn't you want her to come here, though? Wouldn't it be good to have her here, know that she was safe?"

Hawke misses Bethany. A part of her would give anything to see her sister again. But she can't exactly say that she wouldn't want Bethany here because Astrid is dead. That's too brutal, too much reality for a woman who spends her life running from feelings and emotions, trying not to face them. Instead, she pushes them aside, like always.

"Is it safe? Can you guarantee my sister's safety? What if our mabari doesn't come with her? What if her hair turns an unfortunate color to match the colored clothes we wake up in? What if all of this is a dream and it doesn't matter anyway?"

Hawke is nothing if not protective of the one remaining family member she has left.

"Well, I have kept my family safe here," Jon said. "But I would not go so far as to call it a safe place. It is certainly a place where I would keep awareness about myself. But if you're as capable as you seem, you will do all right."

No harm had come to his family aside from Sansa's injury and she'd recovered quickly enough.

Hawke's usual dry humor has come out already with this man. She's cracked jokes that he likes and avoided anything really important or emotional. What comes next is gallows-style humor about actual things.

"See, whenever too many Hawkes gather, someone ends up dead," she points out, voice dripping with humor to cover how very true it seems to be. "If she's in Thedas, at least I'll know she's alive."

It might seem a little backwards to normal people, but considering that Hawke died to get here, she's pretty sure, having someone else she knows turn up here would make her question their fate, too. She doesn't want that for Bethany. Her sister deserves the best life possible.

"Runs the same way with Crows," Jon said, his tone just as wry and just as dry. He hadn't referred to himself as a crow in a long time but since she was talking about hawks, it just seemed like the natural progression of things.

"That's what they called men of the Watch back home. Crows, on account that we all wear black."

Hawke decides she likes Jon. They're getting along quite well and he seems to appreciate her humor more than most do. He also seems to be able to pick out her meaning despite the jokes. That's always good.

"The Watch. Is that like the city guard?"

Jon shook his head. "No, the Watch guards the Wall along the northern border," he explained. "Wildlings attack from there, you see, and the holdings just south of the border need to be protected. I was Lord Commander for a while."

And now he was King in the North, which was quite a shift in status for a bastard. "I commanded the army there."

"A commander? Sounds like Cullen," Hawke comments, thinking of the man who had once been a templar -- who had taken her sister to the Gallows, what was once a death sentence -- and who was now commander of the Inquisition's army. He was good at his job, whichever one he was doing. If Jon Snow is even half as good at being a commander as Cullen was at being a templar and now commander, then he will be formidable indeed.

"You must be a good warrior. Sword and shield or do you like holding things with both hands?"

Hawke, no.

"I usually wield a bastard sword," Jon said. "Rarely a shield, usually just the two handed sword and hope for the best. I'm a keen eye with a bow, as well, which has proven more useful here than the sword."

No weapons save for those bows, after all, and Jon didn't know how they would deal with an enemy that got past their perimeter without some sort of hand to hand weapons. It was something to consider - they needed a palisade, of some sort, or a moat. Perhaps both.

"Ah two hands. Just like Fenris. You might like him." Though Fenris seems to have more skill than 'hope for the best.' It's nothing compared to Aveline's skill with a sword and shield, but no one will ever best her ability to fight and protect those she cares about. Hawke expects no one ever will.

"I never go anywhere without a warrior to help. I think you and I will make a good hunting party." Or will once they get some decent swords out here.

"It usually helps to have someone who can take a bit of punishment," Jon said, laughing lightly. He had always thrown himself into battle to protect others and he imagined it would never change. Even here, he would lay his life down for his sisters or for Margaery; he couldn't imagine being any different.

"I try to do my best to keep those with me safe from harm. I would rather take injury myself than see someone I care about get hurt. I've always been that way. That might seem reckless but it's a noble sort of reckless, isn't it?"

“And dish it out,” Hawke points out dryly, smirking as she thinks back to all of the punishment Aveline had dished out over the years. The woman stood face-to-face with the Maker-cursed Arishok. A Qunari leader! And she hadn’t even flinched. She’d parried spears out of the air, thrown by hate-filled Qunari agents. The woman never backed down from a fight.

Hawke makes a mental note to point that out to her next time Aveline comments on how much Hawke refuses to take the easy way out. And then she remembers that unless Aveline gets dragged here, she won’t get that chance.

“Maybe. But I’ve known someone else like that.” Fenris might have been good at taking things down, but he never quite was willing to take the punishment for everyone else. Not like Aveline. “One of my best friends used to say... ‘Protect what matters with everything you have or you’ll have nothing and deserve it.’ I think you’d like her.”

the champion's rogue heart

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