Jump in the line, rock your body in time (Okay, I believe you!)

[wolfehawke]

Who: Adalwolfe Hawke and YOU!
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: SS First Breath
When: At least three to six hours after the shuffle


Action | Aboard the First Breath

Three hours since his ship-to-ship transfer and Adalwolfe has made progress. He's managed to find his room (more austere than his estate, but better appointed than the hovel in rural Orlais hiding from the Templars), don new clothes (surprisingly comfortable despite not being made of silk), and even managed to scrape together some serviceable food (the odd goop seemed entirely unpalatable at first but it's easier to prepare than anything else he's attempted so he'll take it.) Certainly progress, as he sees it. The next step is to explore the rest of the ship, familiarize himself with his post, and potentially the rest of the crew.

He hasn't run into anyone else just yet but it's not that big of a vessel so it's just a matter of time. He supposes if he actually tries, he could find someone. If he's going to be stuck here, he'd rather it not be without any contacts or friends.

To this end, Adalwolfe ties the arms of his charcoal jumpsuit around his waist to keep the bottom half up, adjusts his nondescript standard issue white t-shirt, and sets back out into the bowels of the ship not so much with a strut but actually exactly with that. If he was aware of the phrase 'fake it 'til you make it,' he'd also be aware that he's taking it to heart.

Because under the forced satisfaction with his accommodations and the acceptance of the unfamiliar clothes and strange cuisine, Adalwolfe feels completely and utterly alone in the blackness of space. The feeling had set in early on the Marsiva for all it's strangeness, and yes he knows why he's here and what this all is and that in and of itself is even more strange, knowing Thedas has nothing closer to travel in space than telescopes and yet here he is. He'd spent far too much time on the Hospitality deck just staring. Pondering his own insignificance, how everything that he's been through and done for Kirkwall, for Mages, for Thedas seems so small when he suddenly just knows how vast the universe actually is.

That's not the eldest son of Malcom Hawke though. He doesn't allow himself to drown in awe or fear of the unknown. No, Adalwolfe Hawke instead takes the dragon by the horns and forges onwards, best foot forward.

He peeks into every corner of the ship, managing to trip over the sometimes oddly placed railings and poles only once. In each and every room - minus the other living quarters of course, that would be rude - he takes a look around with just his head and shoulders in the doorway more to see if anyone is actually there than check out the room itself, but it's about 60/40.

Whenever he does find someone, he adopts a charming grin and offers up a greeting.

"Hello, I'm new. I thought I'd introduce myself."




Video | Fleetwide

[One day at a time.

Adalwolfe keeps having to actually tell himself to take things one day at a time because otherwise he notices everything new happening entirely too fast. Sure, the augment certainly helps out. He even has a job. Again not one of his choosing entirely, one he was roped into, but Communications Officer isn't so bad all things considered. At least he's not going to be constantly asked to rough people up even if 'could you talk to--' he imagines will be a common request. But a job will help to keep him grounded and focused and he's spent quite a long time since his arrival with his face in the broadcast controls and scanner arrays. Nearly two hours.

It's... probably time to familiarize himself with other aspects of his new life.

The truth is, not everything has been happening so fast. The Blight overrunning Lothering, that was fast. The explosion of the Chantry and subsequent Mage Uprising, that was fast. Waking up in space and being told he's now an passenger on an intergalactic voyage with millions of people watching the mortal drama as it unfolds, have fun? That's not fast, that's just weird.

Mostly he's adjusted. Or he thinks he has. He'd been popped onto a smaller ship from the massive one at the center of the fleet today, given his aforementioned position, and then left to his own devices. It leaves quite enough time for adjusting. He's a bit tired of adjusting. It's been half day on his new ship already.

But, as they say, one day at a time.

And on this day, a day that's not particularly special other than his change of scenery, Adalwolfe Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall, Sends out a fleetwide message.]

Hello? I think I've got this working. Can anyone see me?

As I understand it we're all from different places, times, or even realities so I was wondering just how different all these places are.

[He leans back a bit in picture, fingers pressed together thoughtfully.]

I can tell you, Thedas is nothing like this.

Comments

[wolfehawke]

Lucky them.

[He sighs, as if envying some young fresh-faced youth before adulthood sets in and life is hard, and perches his cheek on one hand. He shares those nightmares, punctuated with the image of Alistair's face, a mask of regret inexpertly shoved under determination as he took what should have been Adalwolfe's place.]

At least it turned out with the Wardens. Mostly. I heard the Inquisitor is planned on helping them to rebuild. One of the last things I remember before waking up here, actually.

[ofkirkwall]

If only the rest of us could be so blessed.

[ There aren't many upon the fleet that would notice how suddenly her fingers stop moving, how stiff she goes at the mention of the Wardens. It's brief, easily missed in the span of a blink. The Wardens, yeah lucky them, practically leaderless with Stroud gone. Shouldn't be, should've been her - no, stop that, Varric wouldn't like it if she started thinking like that again. ]

The Inquisitor is a good woman, she wouldn't have abandoned them. It would have been like abandoning a bunch of sad puppies in the rain, beyond cruel.

[wolfehawke]

[He's about to answer, about to make some crack about how Inquisitor Lavellen certainly looks rather effeminate considering his Elven build, but the quip dies on his lips as he realizes that this woman, too, is from a different version of his homeworld than his own. He tries not to let his expression fall too much.]

I think we may not share quite as much context as originally thought. I remember the Inquisitor as a man.

[Adalwolfe leans back in his chair, eyes flicking to the ceiling for a moment as if to ask the Maker briefly for strength.]

It seems we've gotten this far without exchanging names. I'm Adalwolfe Hawke.

[ofkirkwall]

[ Whatever quip she had in store regards to the shame of not sharing the same context is lost at his introduction, surprise catching her just that much off guard that it is visible. Adalwolfe Hawke? First of all, who named their child Adalwolfe? A bit of mouthful if she does say so herself, though her first guess is likely Father. He'd do something funny like that.

Secondly... Andraste's tits, he says he is a Hawke. Different worlds, different versions of herself, of him. How exactly does anyone react to this? It's not... anything like she had envisioned, there is considerably less puns and shameless flirting and -

Bloody Adalwolfe. ]

Well, this is a little awkward, the Inquisitor's gender aside, for my name is also Hawke. Marian Hawke.

[wolfehawke]

[That wasn't what he expected. He's not sure what he was expecting, but Marian being... what, an alternate universe version of himself? That was absolutely not it. Mother had said once, a long time ago, that had he been born a girl he would have been named Marian. A boy's name she and Malcom hadn't settled on, but Leandra had been completely certain on Marian. Who he's now talking to.

Maker she even looks a bit like their parents, now that he allows himself to notice.

He's having the same trouble she is, unsure of how to react. He could get angry, there's an inkling of it, of the same resentment he'd felt as a child for not having a place in the world but what he makes for himself, but that feels thin and far away, based more on his being an apostate than anything and he's long since stopped resenting that. He could make a joke of it, laugh it off and stew in denial and avoid her like the Blight after, but that doesn't feel right either, not with so little family left. And she'd know him, wouldn't she? Without ever having met, they're likely the closest thing to siblings, and with being so alone here otherwise...

It seems worth it to attempt something akin to friendship at the least.

So he smiles, a gentle and calm thing despite the squall in his head over all this, and runs a hand down the short snowy hairs on his chin.]

I thought you looked familiar. You have Father's nose.

[And Mother's eyes, but considering how Leandra had gone, Adalwolfe is loathe to say that aloud and hurt them both.]

[ofkirkwall]

[ This is going against all of her expectations, all the things she idly mused in the dead of night when the nightmares wouldn't let her sleep - before she would sneak her way to Varric's ship and quarters. It's easier on her, at least, having already been briefed on the whole concept of multiple realities and multiple Hawkes. But even so she had never had the chance to actually... meet another. Throws her completely off guard and sends her for one of those uncomfortable spins, something she has never really been quite fond of.

A hand comes up to her face, the video unveiling the worn bandages that run up to her elbow, and she laughs to herself. A short sort of chuckle, more uncertain that it really is amused. What a thing to say. I thought you looked familiar. Maker's balls, he could've been a little more shocked, yeah? Maybe even resisted the idea for a bit instead of smiling in a way that reminds her too much of Leandra and Bethany. ]

And his terrible sense of humor.

[wolfehawke]

Well that we have in common, then.

[He snorts in amusement, but talking about family brings back his thoughts on alternate universes when speaking with Riona, wondering just how different things could be. He's suddenly itching to know what was different, what was the same, but he can't just out with it. She's not taking it in stride, not judging by the uncertainty in her voice and body language, and so just tossing questions at her doesn't seem the right thing to do. Not that he's dealing with it any better, he just...

He's more comforted by the idea of still having family in some form, instead of being entirely alone. Carver hardly counts if Adalwolfe can't return to Kirkwall under pain of death. Or, well, Anders can't, but it amounts to the same things these days.

Adalwolfe realizes he's been quiet for far too long and lets out a sheepish laugh that mirrors hers only moments ago. Andraste's tits, what he wouldn't give for Varric or Isabela or even Merrill to be there and say something to break the tension.]

Sorry, I'm just not sure what it is exactly that you say in a situation like this.

[ofkirkwall]

[ Not as well as she would like, but the timing is off. His arrival with Varric's leaving has her not as steady as she would normally be, stumbling a little more rather than taking taking it all in stride. Bad form Marian, bad form.

She drags a hand through her hair she exhales, looks off to the side, and tugs at the silver chain around her neck. Can't deny that she also has own her set of questions, a veritable storm of them rage in her head. Is Bethany alive? Is Mother? What happened to Carver? Did you succeed where I failed? They race and surge and send her a little dizzy but she holds her tongue, forces the words back down. ]

You and me both. [ Considering they are more or less the same person... sort of, they probably don't really need to say much, do they? ] Maybe a drink or two might help, something strong.

[ Attention flicks back to her device, to Adalwolfe in all his eeriely familiar but somewhat alien glory. ]

You're welcome to accompany me, if you'd like.

[ She figures he might just need it as much as she does. ]

[wolfehawke]

Thank the Maker, yes. Yes, those are the most welcome words I've heard since arriving here.

[He's not a drunk, not in the way of so many he's helped mop off the floor at the Hanged Man in the wee hours of the morning, but there are some situations that call for a stiff drink and having your entire world swept out from under you is certainly one of them.]

Is there a tavern? Or is this strictly a cellar affair, because unfortunately the kitchen here seems to be lacking in alcohol, just water, tea, and this odd bubbled drink in unappetizing colors.

[This is easier, talking about the present, even if he knows the moment they meet it will likely be questions back and forth and drinks for those no longer with them, but there's something in that that feels cathartic already too. As much trepidation as he has over it, it's also welcoming.]

[ofkirkwall]

[ Not a drunk herself, mostly, but she has leaned on the stuff perhaps a few times too many the last few months. All with good reason, of course, and this has to be the best reason of them all! Meeting an alternate version of yourself named Adalwolfe definitely warrants a drink or two, she thinks.

She nods, shifting to stand up, and picks up her device. ]

Worry not! There is an excellent bar ─ well there is actually two of note but I much prefer one over the other. It is called the Space Bar, founded by none other than Varric Tethras. [ She tries not to let that sad longing for her dear friend to filter into her voice, she tries really hard. ] I rarely drink at any other establishment.

[ She sends him the coordinates of the said bar to his device before disappearing from frame briefly. ]

Your ship should have a shuttle, just punch those coordinates into it and it should take you to the Iskaulit where Varric's bar is. From there just... follow the signs, the bird signs.

[ When she returns to the frame it is with a grin, the same sort of grin most know her for when she has some sort of terrible plan in mind. Which today is more or less defacing public property with bird drawings. Surely she can find some marker somewhere... ]

[wolfehawke]

Fantastic. Honestly I always thought he'd end up owning the Hanged Man, if he didn't anyway in all but name, but if he's here than this is likely to be a good substitute.

[He gets up too, picking up his communicator so the frame jitters before settling on his face again at a somewhat sideways angle. There's something there in his expression, a vulnerability not usually shown. He may sound as if this whole thing is to be taken in stride, but the knowledge that Varric is here hits him below the belt with near the same impact that the situation with Anders or Fenris does; he knows he won't be remembered, won't even let himself hope for it.

That grin, though. He knows that grin because he gives that grin. In fact he gives one in return, a conspiratorial thing. One might even think they're in cahoots instead of Adalwolfe flipping his innards over meeting Marian face to face.]

Follow the little bird, got it. I'll see you in... ah... however long it takes to get there.

[He has no idea, but he'll get there. Figuring this out and finding solid ground so to speak is a far more attractive concept than running for cover, even if part of him does what to do that.]

[ofkirkwall]

Won't be too long, unless you get lost.

[ Which is a high possibility given how utterly terrible her own sense of direction is on the best of days.

Regardless she gives him a little wave before cutting her own feed, happy to focus almost entirely on her self given task. A distraction from it, from everything, from the concept of meeting another version of herself, from the fact she all but let him believe Varric is on the fleet. Idiot, stupid selfish idiot.

The drink should help with that too, she hopes, make it easier to take it all in stride and causally disappoint him on the subject of their dwarf friend. Yeah, that should definitely help. Might even make it easier to sleep tonight instead of spending the whole night awake staring at a wall. Wondering about this thing and that, about what he messed up and what he did better.

She gets to the Space Bar first, of course, pausing only every so often to deface the walls with a decent drawing of a bird for Adalwolfe to follow. When he arrives he is like to find her off the left side of the bar, seated lazily at one of the tables, chair leaning on it's back legs against a wall while her feet rest upon the table itself.

She never really had much in the way of table manners. ]

[wolfehawke]

[The birds are helpful. Finding the shuttle had been easy and the coordinate input had been even easier but the corridors of the new ship, though easier to navigate than those of the Breath are entirely unfamiliar and the stylized hawks scribbled on the walls - their namesakes, he's both amused and... something else he doesn't have a name for - keep him from getting lost entirely.

He's not surprised he arrived after her. When he does step inside, tall and broad with his hair capped in a snowy-white fall even at his age (he'd started going white in his early twenties; at over thirty now he's stopped complaining about it but he'd privately blamed the stress of taking care of the family without Father's help as the cause) he scans the room, looking for Marian and perhaps Varric too. Spotting only the former, he nevertheless gives a wave and makes a detour to the bar for a pair of glasses, thinking 'whatever you have that's strongest' is the easiest shortcut to what's needed.

Another few moments and Adalwolfe joins Marian at the table, heart simultaneously in his throat and in his gut being mauled by the butterflies its joined there. He tries not to let it show on his face though, setting the brimming amber glasses down on the table before taking a chair across from her himself. He's half a mind to lean back like that too, feet up and all, but settles instead for turning the chair outward so he's perpendicular to her and can hold his mug to the side on the table while still being able to see the room with his back to the wall. He half hopes he'll catch a glimpse of the bar's proprietor, not that he's looking too terribly hard. He's here for Marian; the potential gut-punch that is one of his best friends not remembering him can wait.]

Thanks for the waymarkers. I hope you don't get into too much trouble for that.

[She reminds him of Bethany, Leandra, and Malcom all at once. Perhaps even Carver, a little, but it's hard for anyone to remind him of Carver without first being a petulant brat about something. She reminds him of himself too, that nonchalant demeanor despite the internal turmoil he has to assume she's feeling. He feels it, so it only serves to reason.

He takes a swallow of his drink, looking out at the rest of the bar to keep himself from staring.]

Where do you want to start?

[No use in beating around the bush, is there?]