video ♪ the viewers really want the D(warf)

[merchantprince]

Who: Varric and open
Broadcast: Video, and open!
Action: The Marsiva.
When: Thursday afternoon

[video;]

[The feed opens with a glorious shot of a gold-embroidered scarlet tunic-- a nice, slow pan across the gently furred planes of a man's chest, the brassy necklace resting across his collarbone, the dip of his throat--

-- and then he punches the camera upward.]

Ha ha, all right, you've had your fill. Stubborn metal piece of shit. [Varric looks none-too-amused.] Just tell me who took all my wine and maybe, maybe I won't tear the walls down.

[He leans back and rubs at his face. While he's usually pretty sharp and charismatic, right now there's a glimpse of how tired he is.]

Something tells me I'm gonna need it after you all tell me what happened while I was--

[A pause. He glances offscreen, takes in the sight of the stars and the hospitality deck of the Marsiva. Kidnapped three times? Really? What the hell is his life?]

-- somewhere else.

Comments

[openhands]

Varric. [Cassandra sighs, already tired of this. She's not even going to touch on the fact Hawke could have remained out of her reach still if Varric hadn't gotten in touch with Hawke.] I had nothing to do with what happened with the Hawke that is here. I had never even spoken or met him until I arrived here.

The Hawke I know is a woman and alive.

[merchantprince]

[That's a good point, but of course he's not trying to be reasonable. Not at first. First he has to get the anger out, the stuff that he's been hiding behind his usual snarky veneer for months. He never got closure and he feels like it's beyond him.

And then he actually processes her reply. His fingers close into fists and make the leather of his gloves squeak, filling the steely silence.

He lets out a breath and his shoulders slump.]

Maker's breath.

[He needs a moment. He turns away, drags a hand down his face and sighs. Get a hold of yourself, Varric. All the demonizing he's done of Cassandra, she's not really worth it. She couldn't have known. Just like you didn't know.

Ah, yes, so now his conscience decides to be reasonable? Thanks, brain.]

Then that's one of those... alternate things. The-- dying thing. The Hawke I knew is also a woman, but I wasn't sure just how much could... ah, shit.

[At this point he should probably apologize. But he also doesn't want to because he is, in fact, really stubborn about certain things.]

Hawke told me what happened when he got here, and I just kind of... well. Jumping to conclusions usually isn't my thing.

[A pause.]

You still put a knife through my book.

[openhands]

[He may not be explicitly apologizing, but Cassandra is not to dense as to not understand that there is somewhat of an apology underneath his explanation. Why else offer the explanation and not just remain angry with her and blaming her for what happened?]

[But since he says nothing to actually apologize, she is simply quiet for a moment, unsure if she should acknowledge an apology that was never said or truly given. It seems the sort of thing that would just aggravate him though, so she opts to hold onto the (temporary) peace for now. Then, hesitantly, she says,]

If you're expecting an apology for that, you aren't going to get one. That was technically my book seeing as how it was my copy.

[Holy shit, she just cracked a slight joke. The ships are probably about to fall out of space somehow. Brace yourself, Varric.]

[merchantprince]

[Varric just stares for a minute, and then a slant of a smirk slides across his stubbled face. Someone call the Divine, Cassandra is joking.]

Honestly, Seeker. [He shakes his head.] You could've just asked for an autograph.

[Banter he's much better at. He's still not over being dragged into whatever mess the Inquisition is-- Fade rifts and demons, he knows that much-- but for now, he's just happy to not get his head lopped off.]

[openhands]

[Cassandra rolls her eyes.]

Your autograph was never the one I was interested in.