driftfleet | I've done my sentence but committed no crime

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I've done my sentence but committed no crime

Who: Adalwolfe Hawke and you!
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: On the Iskaulit
When: Nowish

Broadcast

[The video pops up with Adalwolfe's face centered in the camera, but with the background moving behind him, clearly showing the familiar corridors of the Iskaulit. He's making his way to his new job at Málum as bartender.]

So I noticed on the list of scheduled lectures posted a bit ago that there are several on magic, not to mention several people I've spoken with having positive or relaxed reactions to its use. It's incredibly strange to me that everyone is so open and accepting of this, considering the doctrine regarding magic in my home of Thedas, so it begs the following question and I hope at least someone from outside of Thedas will indulge me:

What is magic like on your world? Is it regulated? Does everyone have the ability to use it, or only a small number of people? Are there prejudices that go along with that.

Ah, well, I suppose that's more than one question. Still, if you're willing to talk about it, please feel free to respond to this post and I'll get back to you when I'm finished with work. Thank you!

[The video clicks off.]

Action

It's only a short walk from the hanger to the bar, but Adalwolfe takes his time since he can't watch where he's going very well as he's recording on his device. Which could lead to all kinds of problems. He seems to be avoiding walls okay, but if a person, say, came out of a corridor nearby or happened to step in front of him at just the right time before he put down the little screen, he might just bowl right into them, or walk right past without noticing a mischievous foot out for him to trip over. Honestly, he's an open target. Or at least seems like it...

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The second the expression of... something. Foreboding? Crosses Anders' face, Adalwolfe knows he shouldn't have done this. He should have gotten the healer an ale as he'd requested and just continued with the good job he'd been doing of trying to entirely ignore that he knew Anders at all. Well, good job since they'd spoken last. Which may not count because they hadn't spoken since, but principally he's been doing a good job.

Anders smiles instead and Hawke relaxes just a little, glad he hasn't done everything wrong all over again. He smiles in return. "I thought you might. A honeyed tongue likes honey wine."

What a stupid thing to say. He should shut up. Adalwolfe busies himself by starting to clean the bartop with a rag he untucks from his apron.

"I had to learn, actually. Surprisingly a lot of it is similar to what you could get in Thedas at the more upscale places. Nothing dead in the barrels! Well, except this one. This I'd never heard of in Thedas." He turns to pull a bottle off the shelf and squints at the label. "Tequila? I'm not sure I'm saying that right."

Edited 2016-06-27 22:48 (UTC)

Adawolfe flirts and Anders' mind scrambles to find a way to meet or deflect it, but it's proven futile when the other mage does it himself. At least he wasn't the only one who didn't know what to do with that, it made moving on from the subject easier.

He squints at the label himself, his expression matching Hawke's tone in confusion. "I'm not certain either, honestly, it doesn't look like how you just said it but I wouldn't know." He shrugs and looks to Hawke instead. "What does 'Ti-quilla' taste like anyhow?" He knew he was butchering the world, but he said it with a smirk to let on how intentional it was.

If you were going to name your drink something preposterous, be prepared to be ridiculed.

"I tried it earlier, it has sort of a peppery flavor at first and then woodsy going down. I could pour you a shot if you'd like but it will go rather poorly with the honeywine." Honestly he's certain Anders won't like it, but his first mistake was being certain about Anders' likes. He'll let the other mage choose for himself this time.

"It comes from a country on Earth that speaks a different language. It sounds a bit like Antivan, at least in the accent." He'd asked about it, curious. It's not like the has a lot else to do these days besides be curious.

Anders' face twists a little as he thinks on that flavor. It didn't sound all that pleasant, but then again there were worse things. "I imagine it tastes a far cry better than Darkspawn blood, kinder hangover, too. All the same, I think I'll stick with what you gave me."

Anders took another sip of his drink, clearly appreciating the flavor. "So, why did you take a job here, anyway? Just to try all of the new alcohol?"

Edited 2016-07-05 19:05 (UTC)

Darkspawn blood? Is that something you drink regularly?

[By the Void, Anders.

Hawke shakes his head, moving to answer the other mage's question instead.]

Partially. Partially to earn some extra coin. Partially to alleviate boredom. Not much for a communications officer to do when everyone has their own device for intership contact.

[He nods.]

Makes sense. There's certainly plenty of boredom to be found around here.

[He gives a half smile.]

Oh, did future-me not tell you? I drink it every night just before bed, helps to keep biting flies away and the dreams pleasant.

Now I know that's not true.

[Hawke snorts, knowing it's supposed to be a joke, but it's not a very funny one. Not when he has memories of Anders waking in the middle of the night in cold shakes, refusing to tell him what caused it other than 'Grey Wardens dream sometimes'.

Despite his best efforts, some of that concern shows through in his expression.]

[That half smile falls and Anders takes a longer drink from his glass and then simply stares into it.]

No, it's not true. But, it is supposed to be this big secret. Haven't you ever wondered why Grey Wardens are the only ones who can end a blight? Not even just that, but just about everything about them, their stamina, their ability to sense darkspawn...the less nice things. There you go, that's why. Initiation day, they say some words, you drink from a goblet full of the black gross stuff and then you pass out and either die from the taint in the blood or live and get to be tainted for the rest of your life.

[Now he does smile and looks up at Hawke.]

It sounds abysmal when I put it like that, I know, but it's really not all that bad. For most people, it's better than whatever lot they had before.

[No wonder Anders had hated the Wardens so much, if whatever they'd done to him - were going to do to him - stacked on top of that. No wonder that the Wardens had been under Corypheus' false calling too, if he could speak to them through the Blight in their blood. He'd been right not to bring Anders with him...

But then Anders says it wasn't so bad and Hawke falters, not adding things up.]

Drinking Darkspawn blood sounds plenty bad.

[His head tilts to the side as he considers.]

Well, no, it's not my first choice, I don't like drinking things that could kill me as a rule. It was me, a lovely young woman and a dwarf during my initiation. She didn't make it...and she went first! Gave us an exact idea of what to look forward to.

[His eyes dart back to Hawke, a certain sharpness to them as he tried to explain.]

You're an apostate, right? I don't know if you've ever been in a circle, but I ran from mine seven times. The last time, I was caught and the Templars chose Vigil's Keep to restock and rest. Darkspawn attacked, they died and I saved my own skin with my magic. The Templar that came to collect me after I helped clear out the 'spawn there announced her intent to see me hanged because she found it convenient to blame me for the Templar's deaths. She likely was simply first in line as I have no doubt I would have been branded a maleficar and executed as soon as I got back anyway; they'd long run out of patience for me.

The king's hands were tied, it was her right to take me with her. It was the Warden-Commander who saved me, Hawke. Without her I would be dead, so what difference was drinking blood if it resulted in the same end? Riona collected a lot more strays than just me and that group was a mess...but they were more a family to me in those months than the Circle ever was in a decade.

Being a Warden isn't ideal, it comes with it's own little twenty-year expiration date for Maker's sake. But the Templars can't touch me, I have a team that will have my back and I get to fight monsters and save lives and actually use my magic instead of rotting away in some priosn masquerading as a college.

[He shrugged and finished off his glass.]

You don't have to understand, just know that I wouldn't have chosen that 'death' if I didn't believe in the cause.

Edited 2016-07-13 00:51 (UTC)

[Hawke knows a little about this. He knows about the life expectancy of a Warden - Anders in his mad flailing to stave off Hawke's advances in those first years had explained as much. He knows Anders escaped Kinloch Hold multiple times only to be caught and returned. It was a wonder he wasn't made Tranquil already by the time he met the Warden-Commander, not that Hawke had ever said it out loud. Anders clearly knows how lucky he is in that regard like this, though when Hawke had initially had the thought back in Kirkwall he hadn't said anything because Anders was still angry at the Grey Wardens and Hawke hadn't wanted to ruffle his feathers, as it were.]

It makes sense, now. Though you know you can use magic to help people here too. I think what happened before proved that.

[A hand came up to play with the earring in his ear and he scoffed.]

Yes, well. It's not like we're on a battlefield, I hardly have to do anything here, helping or not.

And it's better that way! All that effort could lead to sweating and then sweating leads to smelling bad and not looking my best and that would simply be a shame. My best is, after all, quite remarkable.

[He put on a charming smile for his attractive bartender and captive audience.]

[Blasted knicker weasels, he never let up. He plays with that earring and smiles that smile and Hawke wonders how he doesn't just melt directly into the floor, through the bulkhead, and out into space.

Well if he's going to have that trouble so is Anders.

He puts on an equally charming smile and looks at his customer through half-lidded eyes.]

I don't know, a little exertion, a little hair out of place, a little rumpled clothing? It sounds quite a bit more remarkable to me.

[And, of course, as Hawke's words reach his ears, his mind takes them and runs, providing images of what that might look like. Even just a quick tryst in an abandoned room, against a wall, over Anders' desk in his clinic...the heat spreads from under his collar up his face. Maker have mercy on him.

He was leaning forward. He was leaning forward into the bar as though magically pulled towards the other mage.

Nevermind, hang the Maker's mercy, he needed the Maker to smite him down where he sat.

He blinked and the color deepened as he jolted back and looked down, his smile turning a touch more self-deprecating. Slowly he pushed his glass towards Adalwolfe.]

Raincheck on that one, Hawke. In the meantime...my glass seems to be empty.

[Andraste preserve them, what in the name of the Maker are they doing? Is he doing? He knows better than to give into this, but the look on Anders' face, the way he's turning just a bit pink, leaning just a bit forward with a hungry look in his eye that Hawke's not sure he's imagining or desperately wants to be there.

Is this what it was like for Anders, turning him down repeatedly for the first three years until finally Hawke had worn him down so far they couldn't keep their hands off of each other for months. So many times they'd come so very close in that interminable three years, Hawke inevitably retreating back to the manor and fantasizing in his empty bed. Anders, he knew, had done the same. The difference here for Hawke is that he knows he shouldn't. He can't. To Anders like this it's just a tryst, some fun and done. To Hawke, it's so much more.

Is this what it was like, knowing you can't have what every fiber of your being screams for?

He clears his throat and turns away, going for the bottle again to refill the healer's glass.]

There you go.

[He can't help but sound a little husky.]

[He hears it, hears how the brief exchange has affected them both already, Hawke likely more than Anders. After all, Hawke apparently didn't have to imagine that hard.]

Thank you.

[He takes the glass back, but is quiet, his mind fickle and running without his permission. What would it be like to be with someone who already knew what he liked? Probably amazing.

No, what was he doing? His thoughts were filled with images of hands grabbing at skin and fingers tangling in hair and mouths hot and rough on each other and it was wrong.

He loved Karl, he barely even knew this man aside from what he'd told Anders about their apparent history. Or future history. Karl was going to die for Andraste's sake! Anders failed him and he was imagining sleeping with another man! Some loyalty he had. Their last night together played through his head instead, a hot and fast moment in a hidden nook in the library, followed by hushed promises and fantasies of plans. The next morning, Karl was gone long before Anders even woke up.

The shame ate at his gut and he tossed back over half the glass in one swig.]

Where were you born, Hawke?

[A seemingly pointless question, but it was a distraction and still served a purpose. He was caught in this man's spell whether he liked to admit it or not, he should at least know a bit more about him.]

Ferelden. Or, rather, on a boat to Ferelden.

[He busies himself by cleaning more glasses. It's easier than noticing the shadow that falls over Anders' face and thinking he knows why. Easier than resisting the temptation to ask and getting told off and ruining whatever good graces he'd been edging into.]

My father escaped the Kirkwall Circle for my mother and ran away with her. Pretty romantic, I'll be honest.

[Especially if he doesn't think of what his father had to do in order to get the chance.]

[That draws the smile back out, Anders can imagine it even if he's never heard of it. Romantic stories like that were popular in the Circle.]

He ran away for love, huh? What a rare notion. He must have been a good man.

[He wanted to ask about the Kirkwall Circle, was it as bad as Karl had made it out to be? Was that why Anders would lose him? But the questions stayed in his head, he was trying to keep the conversation light. Or lighter.]

I can't imagine they simply let him waltz off. He must have fought hard for it. Tales like that are things people whisper about in passing, rumors. I've never known of a real person who did it.

Where did they meet?

He was both.

[Hawke shrugs much more easily than the question of his father should allow. He's working through it, always or so it seems, but that's all personal and easier to brush off when speaking aloud. Besides, it can wait. Malcolm is dead, and unless Atroma has a sick and twisted sense of drama, that's not going to change.]

They met in Kirkwall. My father was transferred to the Gallows and then made to perform for a noble party put on by my grandfather. The way she tells it, it was love at first sight but I have the sneaking suspicion he talked her into it. My father had a silver tongue.

[One he inherited, Hawke thinks with a smile.]

[He can picture it all too clearly and it brings a slight smile to his face to know that particular tale held a happy ending. Or at least a happier ending than most held.]

I'm glad they got to run away together. I can't imagine that life was easy for them, but clearly they made it work.

[And while part of him was perhaps a little jealous of it, the romantic in him could only appreciate the idea of love winning out over pain and oppression.]

Kirkwall must be a strange place if they can call on mages to entertain at parties. I don't think anything like that ever happened in Ferelden. A good chunk of mages got called away to halpe fight the darkspawn and apparently the rest were allowed out to help in the final fight against the Archdemon, but I'm certain that was the first time venturing out for most of them.

well the Gallows are actually in the city instead of like Kinloch where it's fairly far from any of the houses of the teyrnirs or arlings, let alone Denerim itself. Kirkwall is just one city state, not a country, so there's not as much ground to cover. It's likely mostly geographical.

[Though part of it, as Hawke gathered from their travel to other Circles after Kirkwall's had fallen, was the Ferelden attitude. There's something of a feeling along the lines of 'out of sight, out of mind' in the south. Ostwick's circle seemed more lenient, while Hasmal and Ansburg were so insular that some of them weren't even aware of what happened in Kirkwall at all.]

But... yes, he was lucky.

[Hawke pauses a moment to put some glasses away and get a small shot for himself. That sake stuff Crowley had showed him. He needs something smooth but fortifying right now.

It also occurs to him that while he knows Anders was escaped out of the Tower during the Fifth Blight he doesn't actually know what exactly the other mage was doing during that time.]

You weren't there though, I gather by how you said that. Where were you then?

[He shrugs.]

Here and there.

[It seemed such a silly little thing for Hawke not to know about him when he apparently knew a lot of big things, it made him wonder, for the first time, what Hawke's Anders hadn't told him.]

During one of my earlier escapes, I'd helped a nobleman in need and he'd been very grateful. He'd tried to gift me an amulet to show I had his favor, but I wasn't allowed to keep it when I was recaptured. Still, I hoped maybe he'd remember me despite the years, so I went to his estate after I lost the templars on my tail. Had it not been for the chaos the tower suffered and the templars being called back to help with the situation, I'm sure they would have caught me by the time I'd gotten to the Lord's estate.

But they didn't and when I got there, it was very nearly deserted. The whole family had been called to Denerim both for the Landsmeet and for the war, but some of the servants remembered me and allowed me to lay low in exchange for some help for a little while. I stayed there about a week, but the blight and darkspawn were spreading quickly and the lands weren't safe anymore. The estate was abandoned and I went with the remaining people to Denerim; safety in numbers and all of that. I stayed in Denerim for nearly a month, but I heard the Landsmeet was approaching quickly and it's not wise for an apostate to stand on the capitol's streets when there were bound to be plenty of nobility and chantry Templars along with the city guard, so I went north from there to Amaranthine.

Better I did, too, because the battle against the Archdemon apparently happened over Fort Drakon in Denerim proper. That would have been a nasty end. I was hoping to buy passage to Kirkwall, but there were a lot of refugees fleeing then because of the blight and it wasn't easy to find room, much less the coin to do it when I had nothing to my name. So I tried working where I could and when people would take me for whatever coin I could scrape together. The blight ended and things calmed down, saving up actually started to pay off.

[He looks down at the counter, one long finger tracing the wood's pattern slightly. The smirk that flicked across his face lacked it's usual humor or charm.]

It all seemed like it was coming together, actually. I'd learned some phylacteries had been stored in the city during the blight and there was a good chance mine was among them. I had an opportunity to try and find it and break it once and for all, so I bought my passage to Kirkwall and went to find it so I'd finally be free.

of course the blighted Templars found me that night. I never got on that boat of even got to see if the phylacteries were there. They probably weren't, I learned later they'd been moved at some point, it might have already happened by then. I don't know.

They dragged me off to Vigil's Keep just in time for the darkspawn to attack the resident Wardens and the rest is history. [That smirk widened into a sharp smile.] You know, listed like that, my life sounds like a never-ending streak of hilariously terrible luck, doesn't it? At least until the Commander.

[He sat up a little more and waved a bit at the air as though he could brush away his own melancholy.]

Better than others, though, so I shouldn't complain. The templars have ruined other mage's lives far more thoroughly than mine and continue to do it day in and day out, at least I'm free now. And alive! Alive is good, some mages don't even get that far, of course.

Edited 2016-07-30 19:10 (UTC)

[Hawke opens his mouth and then closes it. More than once. What do you even say to that, especially when he can fill in past the part that Anders calls history, all the ups and downs that fill the next decade of Anders' life, nine of which he was actually present for and seven of which he's trying to pretend he doesn't know far more intimately. Should he tell him any of it? How they'd found his phylactery and finally destroyed it? How they'd debated over destroying it and finally Hawke had convinced his love to do it for the sake of Anders' safety?

He remembers that night vividly, laced with emotion as it was. Hawke had never been in a Circle so he'd never had it done, but it had been a source of worry for Anders for such a long time. More than he knew, if Anders had hunted for it even before Kirkwall. After perhaps it had fallen by the wayside, what with the Wardens and their having kept him safe for a time, but then he fled to Kirkwall and that is what's history to Hawke.

He shakes his head, deciding it's not something Anders needs to know. Or at least, not something he needs to know before he's ready. It involves too much between them; Hawke imagines Anders like this hearing that he hadn't wanted to destroy his phylactery when they finally got it, that he'd wanted Hawke to keep it in order to always be able to find them should they get separated, it's romantic and sappy and not something this Anders will be able to stomach, he's sure.]

Didn't it ever want to make you do something for them?

[Instead, another question he'd never asked. He'd never thought to, his Anders being someone who had always acted on the behalf of all mages, for the betterment of his people. How he'd needed Justice to finally get that kick in the seat of his robes is unfathomable to Hawke. Or it was, until he met this Anders.]

[The expression that crosses Anders' face is measured, as though trying to read something in Hawke that wasn't quite visible.]

Did you get that from Justice? Or whatever part of him was there when you knew him? He asked me something very similar. In fact, he insisted I had an obligation. [He practically spits the word. But his tone is light and airy in the next second.]

No matter, I'll simply tell you what I told him: I prefer to mind my own business and live my own life. Anything else is too...difficult. And likely to result in death, which I hear is painful and I'd rather like to avoid it for as long as I can.

So, no. I wish them all luck, but there is no point rallying against an immovable object like the Chantry.

I wouldn't go so far as to say an obligation.

[He's taken aback by the very visceral reaction Anders has to his question, half expecting the blond to storm off in a huff. It's a far cry from the flirting they'd started the evening with but maybe it's folly to think he could talk to Anders without his own past/Anders' future coming up. Maybe he shouldn't be tip-toeing around it the way he is.]

It was just a question, Anders. No need to get riled up.

[Though it raises more questions for Hawke, internally. How much of the Anders he knew, the one he fell in love with, was actually Justice? It's an unsettling thought.]

I asked what you wanted to do, if you could, not what you thought was actually possible.

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