ｍａｒｉａｎ ｈａｗｋｅ ⚔ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴍᴘɪᴏɴ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ofkirkwall) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2016-01-23 08:34 am
ofkirkwall) wrote in driftfleet2016-01-23 08:34 am
Entry tags:
001.
Who: Marian Hawke & you.
Broadcast: Fleet wide
Action: MARSIVA, aww yeah.
When: Now, until shuffle.
[ Maker's balls it is cold.
Waking up in strange places isn't so unusual in Marian's Hawke's life, she's fairly to it by now, so she barely bats a sleepy eye when she rolls over and curls in on herself. Half mumbled words tumbling from her lips in a incoherently mess, fingers curling around whatever they can grasp in a desperate attempt to conserve heat. This continues for a good few moments until the woman manages to roll straight onto the cold metal floor. ]
─Aahh! [ There is no better way of waking someone up than a quick drop onto a cold floor - well... a bucket of water would have done as well, but thankfully there are no buckets to be seen.
It has her awake, alert as someone still gluggy with sleep can be, mope of black hair strewn about this way and that. Heart thundering in her chest a hand raises to rub the sleep from her eyes, jaw lock in evident irritation. ] Stupid Wardens, how is anyone supposed to sleep in a cot so small... [ The realization comes slow, the metal walls of the ship close enough to blurred vision to make her think she's still in Weisshaupt waiting for old men to pull their collective sticks from their asses. ] Never thought I'd miss camping out in caves─Hello...
[ Ah, there it is, that little light bulb that flicks on and says "This isn't Weisshaupt, Toto" - or it would if Hawke had any any who or what Toto was. Regardless she inhales sharp and reaches for her staff, smooth wood a comfort as she uses it to stands herself up. ]
I see we've gone to the Grey Wardens school of decor. [ A bit boring she has to say, rather bland. No dirt, no drunkard puking his guts out in the corner, no wet dog smell. Frankly it is kind of disappointing.
Once her bearings are gather it takes Hawke all of a few moments to start snooping, trying to find something - anything - to tell her where exactly she's managed to find herself now. Eventually her combings finds her a device, odd little thing that she promptly starts playing with legs across upon the very bench she woke up on. A few hours of poking has her come to a few conclusions, one; this thing is weird, two; she can swear she has seen something like this before, and three; she can talk to people on it. At least she thinks she can.
A wild guess as her flick the feed on, though the camera is at a slight angle, all smiles and more than obvious bed hair. You'd almost have no idea that she is perhaps a little rattled by all of this with the way she looks. ]
Good morning, or is it afternoon? Honestly I have no bloody idea, I tried to fun the sun but it seems that I have misplaced that alongside of almost everything else. No matter, I'm sure it'll all turn up somehow.
I'm Hawke, by the way - best to get introductions out of the way early - and I have two very important questions to ask you... [ Trailing off the screws up her nose slightly before shaking her head. ] Is there a bar nearby and how can I get there?
Broadcast: Fleet wide
Action: MARSIVA, aww yeah.
When: Now, until shuffle.
[ Maker's balls it is cold.
Waking up in strange places isn't so unusual in Marian's Hawke's life, she's fairly to it by now, so she barely bats a sleepy eye when she rolls over and curls in on herself. Half mumbled words tumbling from her lips in a incoherently mess, fingers curling around whatever they can grasp in a desperate attempt to conserve heat. This continues for a good few moments until the woman manages to roll straight onto the cold metal floor. ]
─Aahh! [ There is no better way of waking someone up than a quick drop onto a cold floor - well... a bucket of water would have done as well, but thankfully there are no buckets to be seen.
It has her awake, alert as someone still gluggy with sleep can be, mope of black hair strewn about this way and that. Heart thundering in her chest a hand raises to rub the sleep from her eyes, jaw lock in evident irritation. ] Stupid Wardens, how is anyone supposed to sleep in a cot so small... [ The realization comes slow, the metal walls of the ship close enough to blurred vision to make her think she's still in Weisshaupt waiting for old men to pull their collective sticks from their asses. ] Never thought I'd miss camping out in caves─Hello...
[ Ah, there it is, that little light bulb that flicks on and says "This isn't Weisshaupt, Toto" - or it would if Hawke had any any who or what Toto was. Regardless she inhales sharp and reaches for her staff, smooth wood a comfort as she uses it to stands herself up. ]
I see we've gone to the Grey Wardens school of decor. [ A bit boring she has to say, rather bland. No dirt, no drunkard puking his guts out in the corner, no wet dog smell. Frankly it is kind of disappointing.
Once her bearings are gather it takes Hawke all of a few moments to start snooping, trying to find something - anything - to tell her where exactly she's managed to find herself now. Eventually her combings finds her a device, odd little thing that she promptly starts playing with legs across upon the very bench she woke up on. A few hours of poking has her come to a few conclusions, one; this thing is weird, two; she can swear she has seen something like this before, and three; she can talk to people on it. At least she thinks she can.
A wild guess as her flick the feed on, though the camera is at a slight angle, all smiles and more than obvious bed hair. You'd almost have no idea that she is perhaps a little rattled by all of this with the way she looks. ]
Good morning, or is it afternoon? Honestly I have no bloody idea, I tried to fun the sun but it seems that I have misplaced that alongside of almost everything else. No matter, I'm sure it'll all turn up somehow.
I'm Hawke, by the way - best to get introductions out of the way early - and I have two very important questions to ask you... [ Trailing off the screws up her nose slightly before shaking her head. ] Is there a bar nearby and how can I get there?
no subject
The reality is, he doesn't actually know that many details about Kirkwall (he would, for example, still be bamboozled by the title "Champion," even after a spring and a summer spent sleeping with The Man Himself). For a long time the only person who had been present in Kirkwall during those years even remotely willing to talk to him about it was Hawke, and between the two of them navigating that topic had been— complicated.]
You're going to have to be more specific, you've just described [he pretends to think about it, counts on his fingers] oh, just about everyone I've ever met in my entire life, I think. Save for the blood mages, of course. But I hardly think they count, do you?
no subject
Anders? Well, he just happens to be one the largest complications of them all. It's probably idiotic of her to want to keep him close by despite how he had hurt her, hurt them all, but Hawke has lost so many people over the years. Her sister, her mother, her brother both to the Blight and the Wardens. Losing one more? Even one she should rightly never want to see again? Maker, she just can't bare it.
So she chooses the more difficult route instead; a path covered in glass and eggshells. ]
I'm glad the only person I had to listen to was my mother. She was always scolding me for using magic inside the house, or sneaking the twins out late at night to go somewhere fun. [ Father didn't mind, he would grin and solve the problem with his sharp wit. ] Suppose they don't. [ Says the former blood mage. ]
no subject
He smiles anyway.]
You'd think that magic inside would be more acceptable than outside. [A hum, idle.] Until you turn the drapes into ice sculptures, I suppose, hard to explain that one away.
no subject
And with how her family turned out... Hawke wouldn't suggest being jealous of them. Not in the slightest. ]
Not in my house, Mother always knew when I used it. That might have been because of the stupid grins Father and I would wear afterwards.
[ It aches, Maker how it aches. Her stomach twists, a sad glitter finding the corners of her eyes, but she keeps on smiling, keeps on acting as though it is easy to speak of them. ]