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

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

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.

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And that is when he will see a dwarf.

Different sort of dwarf, for as much as he has curly blonde hair he has pulled away from his face in a man-bun, a screwdriver in his stubby hand. He looks up, mismatched eyes of green and black blinking at Adalwolfe, stretching the scar that runs from his eyebrow, down across his cheek and down into his blonde and black beard.

One corner of the man's mouth lifts into a wry smile, and the dwarf salutes with his screwdriver.

"Well met, stranger. I am Tyrion Lannister, the ship's engineer. And who might you be?"

Even if he is a slightly different sort of Dwarf, Adalwolfe doesn't seem to think anything of it out of the ordinary. After all, his best friend is a Dwarf and he's known many in Kirkwall even besides Varric. Bodahn and young Sandal, Javaris; he's met honest merchants and horrendous scoundrels alike. Dwarves are as varied as Humans and Elves in all things.

"Adalwolfe Hawke, communications. Well met, Serrah Lannister." He grins broadly, stretching the tuft of snowy white hair that graces his chin. He feels more at home already. "Out of curiosity, how long did it take you to get used to the food? It seems more like mash for old mothers without teeth."

Not like this, but it seems to share a few similarities with other places. Namely 'Earth' which happens to be where a lot of other people are from.

[Anders is sitting where he usually sits these days: at his desk in the med bay with his boots on his desk. He usually peruses the network and the various posts that cross it, but this one catches his eye for a couple of reasons. Mostly the mention of Thedas.

There sure were a good number of them here.]

Anders!

[Hawke nearly falls out of his chair to lean into the screen.]

Thank the Maker, a familiar face, oh and you of all people. I must be blessed, for once.

[He's nearly overwhelmed, throat choked with relief.]

Are you alright? Did the headaches stop? Andraste's knickers but it's wonderful to see your face...

[Hawke sinks his chin down on his arms, looking into the screen not unlike a teenager would puppy-eye into a skype-call with their long-distance boyfriend.]

[And just like that, the small smile he'd been wearing falters and an awkward grimace replaces it. Ah, this again. Kitty said it never happened to her before, why did it always happen to him? And the way the guy was looking at him...]

Ah...right. Okay, I don't know if anyone's told you, but sometimes things happen in the wrong order to people here. Like my best friend, funny story, she doesn't remember me. Hilarious, right? Apparently there's a handful of people here who remember me because they know me in my future, but I haven't gotten there yet! Or...they know me because I was here before, apparently.

It's all very confusing. And apparently, that's what's happened here.

[He winces.]

Sorry.

[Right.

That's.

That makes sense.

Adalwolfe sits up in his chair again, clearing his throat, trying to regain whatever composure he might maintain in front of a stranger instead of the man he'd dedicated the last seven years to.]

Right. Well. That was terribly awkward. Sorry.

[Had he said blessed? Cursed, more like.]

Let's sort this out a little bit then, at least. What year is it, when you're from?

[ It's the mention of Thedas that draws her, that small little flicker of hope that maybe it is someone that she'll recognize - maybe this time it'll be Carver - or someone that will recognize her. That hope is squashed quickly however, the man upon the screen certainly not anyone she recognizes and definitely not Carver. Hawke doesn't stay disappointed long, her free hand idly fiddling with a small silver chain around her neck as she settles on a easy smile. ]

Another from one from Thedas? [ Short laugh and she shakes her head. ] We seem to grow in number as quickly as we fall.

Oh, did I miss someone?

[He gives an easy smile right back, hopefully not appearing as ill at-ease as he feels. With Anders not recognizing him despite their history - his future, Adalwolfe has to reminds himself - and the oppressive emptiness of space around them, Adalwolfe isn't feeling quite himself. But if anyone can at least give the appearance of rolling with the punches, its him.]

It's good to have at least someone with a shared context.

Oh, just a few.

[ With all the differences of worlds, in realities, at least some things stay the same. Rolling with each punch that comes flying towards them, hit blow that hits harder than the last but still they manage to keep standing, keep on going. ]

It would be even better if we weren't all over the place in the matter of time. Some of us remember the big hole in the sky, other does, it's terribly inconvenient.

That is entirely and completely the truth.

[That punch lands, a double one considering what the hole in the sky lead to. It takes a bit of the wind out of his sails, but he makes an effort to still come across as genial.]

I remember the hole in the sky. You?

Hole in the sky, demons pouring out of it, everyone panicking worse than chickens do with a mabari running rampant.

[ Fingers somewhat entangled around the chain she shrugs, seemingly unbothered by the dreadful state of the world. A facade, of course, for who knows better than Marian Hawke? The hole in the sky, the circumstances that lead to it, and all that follows it. She's never told anyone that she still dreams of sickly green skies and giant spider demons. ]

Out of all the Thedosians here I'd say four, including both you and myself, remember it. The rest? They're somewhat... blissfully ignorant to state of our home.

[It'd hurt, not him, he didn't know this man from any other, but what Anders had said had hurt in a way Anders recognized. It was the way he'd felt when Riona had dropped that same realization on him.]

Apparently, it happens more often than you'd think.

It was 9:31 Dragon. About Six months or so after the end of the Fifth Blight.

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.

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.

[Ten years ago. Before the rumors of the Darktown healer had even begun because there was no one to whisper about. He must have still been with the Wardens in Amaranthine, even before that went sour if it's six months. Hawke remembers Anders telling him the story, staring up at the night sky in their bedrolls after both Varric and Merrill had long since left them to return to Kirkwall. Anders had told him a short version of the story and Adalwolfe hadn't pressed too hard on the details his lover had left out. The last thing he wanted to do was cause Anders pain.

No matter how much pain Anders caused him, intentional or not.]

I'm from some time after then, roughly a decade.

[He's not sure what Anders will do with that information. He's not even sure what he'll do with that information himself. He has all of these memories and feelings and none of it matters at all to the man on the other end of the transmission.]

[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.

[ 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.

[ Well that's...sure a tall, white-haired dude Jihwan didn't at all expect to see see all of a sudden. He's upfront too, and as shaken and nauseous as he still feels about being in space, he can't really muster up more than an awkward nod as he stares, rather bluntly, at his new "shipmate."

He is not handling the teleporting well. Or whatever the hell happened between the Marsiva and First Breath. ]

......Nn.

The name ... actually gets Tyrion to blink. He knows a Hawke, oh, and does he want to know that particular Hawke better. Now, he's just going to arch both eyebrows and smile quizzically at the man before him.

"Hawke, hm? Any relation to Marian Hawke?" She never mentioned she had a brother. Neither did Fenris, for that matter. Certainly spoke the same. "Oh ... my friend, I am still not used to the food. However, a few clever chefs have learned to make it palatable. You are in luck, my dear friend Lily has mastered it quite well.

[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.]

[Oh dear, this man looks a bit green...]

Are you alright?

"Not that I'm aware of," he responds with a shrug. Hawke isn't exactly a common surname in Ferelden, or Thedas entirely for that matter, but he's now dealing with entire worlds worth of names all muddled up together here in space so he doesn't give it much thought.

"And luck notwithstanding, I'll consider myself blessed if you Lily is the ship's cook." Especially considering he'd never really learned to do much more than the very basics. Growing up his mother had always done it and taught Bethany, and once they'd regained the Amell estate there were servants. Well, until he'd invited Anders to stay, then the servants had to go for safety's sake. All but Bohdan, who was surprisingly apt in the kitchen provided he had a stool.

"Otherwise I'm afraid I'll be resigned to a fate of unnamed glop for our time here regardless."

"Interesting ... " Tyrion leans back and puts the screwdriver down, to give the other man a more assessing look.

Then he smirks, "Not exactly, but she enjoys it, and we all benefit from when she is feeling creative in a culinary fashion. "She keeps us from starving to death - or just eating gloop, for that matter."

[Al gave the stranger a friendly wave.]

I can see you nice and clearly. It's weird, isn't it, if you've never used something like this before.

[Oh, look, it's a familiar face. Unfortunately, this is not a familiar face to Fenris. This is nothing new, Atroma pull plenty of Thedosians in that he hasn't met yet. Future shenanigans and suchlike. ]

No. Thedas is nothing like this. Most of the realities other people are from are even further removed than home.

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

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