driftfleet | [OTA] I am my own man, I make my own luck

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[OTA] I am my own man, I make my own luck

Who: Adalwolfe Hawke and you!
Broadcast: Yes
Action: Yes; Three Twins lab
When: Fight: evening of 9/8; the rest: 9/9

Pay Per View; The Fight
((ooc: This fight was broadcast and a ticketed Moxie event, so feel free to have your character have seen it))

Adalwolfe may be a mage but he's never let that mean he's allowed to grow complacent physically. For all he could just stand back and fling spells, Hawke makes sure he keeps in excellent shape. Maybe it's vanity, maybe it has to do with years of apostasy, but when the show starts and he's brought into the ring, shirtless and with his hair tied back, it's clear that he's definitely not a sit in a library all day studying and forget to eat sort of mage.

But that doesn't mean he's any good at hand to hand fighting.

True, he's gotten into many a scrap even before he had his magic, and the times after it was always more imperative that he hide his abilities than win the fight, but when he beats his mountain of an opponent - a man who seems to be made of one large muscle. (Adalwolfe's reminded of a hornless, hairless Arishok with this guy's stature and reach and it brings back some nasty memories. Makes the scar on his abdomen twinge.) - it's only by the skin of his teeth and he doesn't escape unscathed by a long shot.

When the ref raises his arm with the triumphant announcement of his victory, Hawke is covered in nasty red and purple bruises and bleeding from more then a few impact wounds, especially on his face. He can't quite make out the crowd for the triple vision he's seeing them in through his one good eye. The other is swollen shut and there's blood across his nose, in his eyes, and in his mouth, but he still won. And with no magic at all.

He hits the surface of the ring with a goofy grin on his face and passes out.

Recovery; Action

When he comes to, he feels like one giant bruise. Before even opening his eyes, Adalwolfe groans and tries to move an arm in order to... he's not sure, but after half a second he decides that's not a good idea thanks to the shooting pain that fireworks into a grinding agony in his shoulder. Best to leave that for Anders to look at. Best to leave everything for Anders to look at, by the feel of it.

At the very least he cracks one eye open to see where he is, surprised that he feels glad to see the inside of the Three Twins lab. He'd spent too much time in here already fretting but it sure beats a jail cell. Guess they really did release him after he won. Awesome.

If anyone comes in within the next few hours, he'll be in the same position; stretched out on one of the beds looking like an abused piece of produce. It's not so bad as he'd appeared at the end of the broadcasted fight though, and in fact lessons as the day goes on; someone's clearly been caring for him. The cut across his nose remains, however, at his insistence. It makes him look cool.

Care to visit the invalid? Admonishments expected, well wishes appreciated.

Aftermath; Network Video

[Later, when Adalwolfe's recovered enough to leave the med bay and can move without anything more than dull aching thanks to the TLC from his favorite healer, he finally locates his communicator and pops on the network. He's still graced with that stupid split across the bridge of his nose burning an angry red, but at least his eye isn't swollen shut anymore and most of the other evidence of his hard-won boxing match has faded.

Wolfe grins a tired grin out at the rest of the fleet, pleased at himself for having gotten out of all that, though there's a little disappointment lurking behind his expression. He was in prison the last few days and then forced to fight for his freedom, so he's been completely out of the loop. And then Anders told him he'd missed facing off against a dragon. That would have been way better than a boxing match against the not!Arishok.]

So... what'd I miss? I hear there's a dragon, is everyone okay?

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Anders, for his part, looks like he's seen better days, but he's certainly a sight better than his partner currently laid out in his clinic.

He'd been going slow since Hawke had been released to his care, focusing first on that eye before Hawke could lose it and then moving on to other things. As his mana allowed, the dragon fight had taken all of it and he hadn't slept long enough between that and this morning's fight broadcast to get even half of it back.

He sighs but his head jerks up to Hawke's face when he begins to stir. "Welcome back. How do you feel?"

"Never better," he grunts, though the inflection says 'like shit.'

Blinking against the somewhat harsh lights of the clinic, it takes a long moment to focus on Anders and stop seeing him in triplicate, which frankly is a very specific fantasy he's not entirely up to enacting about now. He stares for a long moment, processing, looking at Anders but not quite seeing him until his eyes finally focus and he grins. "Told you I'd be freed."

Anders huffed and shook his head, sending a small wave of healing magic to Adalwolfe's head before letting it spread to heal one of the last scratches he had. His own irritation aside, he'd never leave Hawke to bleed.

"Yes and now you're trapped in my care. Don't try to move too much, there's still quite a bit of damage." Torn and twisted muscles, huge bruises and welts. The cuts and scratches of split skin might be gone, but that was about all he'd managed so far. He hated having to go slow, especially when it came to Hawke.

"Oh, trapped you say? Whatever will I do?" He chuckles softly, a husky edge to it, but it's a testament to how badly he still hurts that he doesn't immediately try to get out of bed.

"You didn't get my nose, did you? I thought that might look pretty wicked as it heals naturally and it might even leave a scar." Which is apparently a benefit.

Anders doesn't spare the despairing look Hawke deserves with that comment. "You want it to scar? Aren't you happy enough with all the other ones you have? There's quite a few for a man still miraculously on his feet."

The Arishok's blade through a man's middle should kill him. It nearly had. Surely that was prize enough for his dumb lover. But apparently, it wasn't.

Anders gave a put upon sigh and shook his head. "No, I hadn't healed it yet. I've had to go slow, so I took care of what was actively bleeding first, that didn't fit the criteria. If you truly wish for me to leave it, I will." Because that's how much he loved Hawke...even with his silly whims.

"No one can see the others, no one but you anyway. How will people ever know to ask of my exploits if I'm still too perfectly clean-faced?" He pouts handsomely, knowing eventually he's going to give in and let Anders heal his nose before it can fully scar, but for now he quite likes the long stripe of red across his face. Makes him feel dangerous.

Still, going slow isn't how Anders usually heals him and that brings a small frown and a furrow of Wolfe's eyebrows. "Are you alright? Why go slow?"

Anders laughs quietly and shakes his head. What was he going to do with such a spirited lover? Trail after him and follow his whims like the devoted fool he's been for years, he supposed.

He began cleaning up the supplies he'd been keeping around to heal while his magic couldn't. The worst was patched up and the rest could come as his mana did now.

"There was some excitement while you were in prison. A dragon. Sorry you had to miss it." Only he wasn't really sorry at all, having one Hawke rush in with her stupidity was enough, both of them would have been catastrophic and Anders doubted he'd have been half as helpful as he'd been if they'd both been there. Besides, it was just one more chance had at Hawke getting himself killed and Anders wanted to limit those as much as possible.

But he was obligated to tell Adalwolfe; his lover's fondness for the awful creatures was surely lost on no one.

"I missed a dragon?!" His indignance is loud enough it can probably be heard from the corridor outside the clinic.

"That's horrible!"

Anders can't help but laugh even louder at Hawke's reaction, expected as it was. "You did. We didn't kill it, it got away, but it did it's best on us."

Supplies put away, Anders moved back to Hawke and leaned against the edge of the bed beside him. "I know you're devastated, love." Gently, he placed his hand over a particularly viscous looking bruise on Hawke's jaw and lets his mana seep deep into the skin to heal the burst blood vessels.

Part of what made this so slow going was Anders' lack of patience when it came to healing his lover. If he'd just be patient and give it a few hours, he'd have enough mana collected to do more than offer small bursts. Unfortunately, he didn't intend to wait.

He exhales as Anders' magic soothes his jaw, letting out a soft sound of relief and leaning into his love's hand as if that will add to the healing's effectiveness. Truth be told, he's just glad Anders is there at all, that he didn't change his mind about being willing to deal with Adalwolfe's stupidity that had landed him in the fight in the first place.

He turns his face after a moment, planting a kiss into Anders' palm and tasting his magic, how it feels vaguely electric at on his back teeth. "How is everyone? Did it hurt you?"

His thumb traces over Hawke's healed jaw. "Everyone's relatively okay. No one died. Riona's seen better days and the blighted thing got a good hold on Marian, but I've patched them up, a few weeks and they'll be a hundred percent." He shrugged. "As per usual, it barely touched Fenris." Certainly not bad enough it wasn't anything Anders couldn't fix on the spot. He might have a lot of things to say about the elf, very few of them good, but one of those few things was that Fenris was a damn good fighter. Anders rarely had to heal him because enemies rarely landed a hit.

Which was probably for the better because he was fairly certain Fenris wanted to kill him every time Anders used magic on him.

"I only got some scratches and bruises. I already tended to them." Marian. His brain caught up with him and reminded him of the sick feeling he'd been nursing for the last twenty-four hours. He should say something, mention it to Adalwolfe. But maybe he could put it off a moment longer. Anders feigned the recognition of remembering something and pulled away to cross the clinic to his store of elfroot potions. "Now that you're awake, things wil be a lot easier for you if you drink one of these."

He got one of the red potions and held it in one hand while his other reached behind Hawke to help support him slowly. "It should take some of the ache away and heal those smaller bruises. The sprained shoulder, deeper bruises and split skin on your knuckles will have to heal normally until my mana comes back."

"Of course it did. She's a Hawke." He says it almost proudly, even if he's a bit worried considering getting caught by the dragon is never the plan. Even so he trusts that Anders has taken good care of her. Even people he hates he takes care of. Fenris, for example. He'd even thrown a few spells Cullen's way when they'd fought Meredith. It's something he loves about his feather mage.

Wolfe takes the potion without complaint and knocks it back, trying to keep from tasting it. Elfroot potions have such a strange taste to his palette. He's never liked them, but he can't argue with their effectiveness. A moment later and he feels uncountable minor aches and pains recede. He lets out a short sigh, adjusting himself in the clinic bed to set aside the empty flask and better look at his lover.

"So then, if you've tended everyone, what is it you're not telling me?" He looks at Anders very seriously but with a twinkle in his eye. "It's bookies isn't it. You bet against me and now they're after you from the planet. Haven't you learned better yet than to bet your ears?"

Anders lets the warmth Hawke nearly always grants him just by existing suffuse his smile and eyes. He wished it was bookies.

"The only trouble I have the bookies is how much they owe me for betting on you. I was one of the few you, know. Apparently, the guy you faced was very popular and these Moxie people don't know about the stubbornness of a Hawke."

But that meant now he had to come clean. Or rather, throw Marian to the Wolves as it were.

"No, love. It's not me...it's Marian." She was desperate, she was foolish, she was just tring to help-! "She's a blood mage."

Edited 2016-09-23 18:24 (UTC)

He's about to make some joke about the stubbornness of Hawkes. It would have been good, too, but Anders says the words 'blood mage' and his entire train of thought comes to a screeching halt. He can't even process for a moment, the words not making any sense. Like they're another language. Anders might as well be speaking Qunlat for all he can process the very concept of it.

"What?"

Anders' expression turns sour, anger in the lines of his face, but a bitterness to his tone. He can't hate her, she's a Hawke and had her own gravity to her he was still caught in. But not as closely or deeply as he was caught in his own Hawke's gravity and, between the two of them, it was ultimately Adalwolfe who held his complete loyalty.

That included breaking unpleasant news instead of waiting and hoping Marian would tell him herself. But she was like Anders and so she never would.

"During the fight. Things got bad, we were losing and it likely would have killed us all, so she became desperate and irrational. I watched her do it, she used her own blood from her wounds. That curse damn well nearly killed her more than the dragon did."

Edited 2016-09-23 20:07 (UTC)

"So she saved you with it." Because that matters. Intent matters. It's not a freedom from consequences, but if it doesn't matter then why would anyone try at anything with a high likelihood of failure, even if its the right thing? Merrill only ever used it to help them, only ever drew from herself. Is that where Marian learned it? Or did she know it all along?

But blood magic... It's not something to take lightly and dismiss, not with how Malcolm had gone on about how they were never to learn it, never to use it. That it was the representation of the worst that magic could be and it was no way to serve the Maker to do violence to one's self or others. It rings hollow now, with what he knows of his father. He still hasn't sorted all that out, not with his heart wanting to shy away every time he thinks of it. Malcolm, a blood mage. And now Marian too. Is there something he never knew about Bethany? Is he the only Hawke to not have even dabbled? And even then, he'd thought about it.

He thinks of the book, burnt to ashes now in the ruins of Lothering. Blood magic he swore he'd never use but could never shake the feeling of what if he had to? What if someone's life depended on it? He'd damned himself for not remembering it when they fled the Blight. Maybe it would have saved Bethany. Or maybe not, but he would give anything to have tried.

Face a mask, Adalwolfe tries to get up, hissing between his teeth as every section of his battered body lights up in pain. Still he clenches his jaw and tries. "I have to talk to her."

He worries his lip with his teeth and doesn't answer Hawke's non-question. HE knows he's being a hypocrite, intent does matter and this wasn't something foolish and selfish like Merrill...but it was still blood magic and Anders still didn't want to acknowledge that understood why, even if he'd never agree. But Then Hawke moves to get up and he's spared from his indecision.

"Not right now you don't."

His tone is sharp and leaves little room for argument as he grips Hawke's shoulders and pushes him back to the cot. Hawke might be objectively stronger than Anders, but Anders was hardly weak in his own right and he had the better angle to keep Hawke from rising. That and stubbornness as thick as steel, Marian might need someone to talk to her, but it wouldn't be Adalwolfe as long as moving was more likely to cause pain than stop it.

"I let her go back to her room barely twenty minutes ago, you can find her later." He huffs, a hand still clamped on Adalwolfe's shoulder as he thinks. "Give me half an hour, I'll have enough mana to put you back on your feet and your arm in a sling. She's also still recovering, I doubt she'll have gone very far in that time."

For a moment it seems as if Adalwolfe might try to push past Anders anyway. Room for argument or not, Hawke doesn't bother actually arguing when he really sets his mind to something, he just does as he likes, one way or another. But Anders has a point. There's quite literally nowhere for Marian to go that isn't elsewhere in the fleet. He bets he can guess where she'd go anyhow. He lets Anders push him back, looking at him levelly.

"Did you say anything to her about it?" He thinks he might know the answer to that question already, but he asks regardless, his tone carrying a weight to it that implies he knows he might not like what he hears.

He knows he couldn't actually stop Hawke if Adalwolfe pushed, so he breathes an internal sigh of relief when his stubborn boyfriend gives in. Although, he supposed he could have always used a glyph of paralysis with only mild guilt.

There's clear agitation and anger in his face, but it's laced together with hurt and confusion and he's silent a moment in the face of Adalwolfe's question. His eyes don't try to dart away, he knows what Hawke must be imagining, considering every bloodmage in Kirkwall and Anders' reaction to Merrill for years. He didn't feel guilt for it.

"Not as much as you might think. I asked her what I needed to know and nothing else. I treated her as a patient." Not a Hawke, not even a friend, simply arms length like they were both so good at doing. He didn't trust himself to ask her anything else or even to look at her for too long without letting that hurt and confusion and anger linger long enough for her to catch in his eyes.

"You should talk to her yourself, if anyone is to understand, I suspect it will be you. Just not until your doing so won't hamper your healing."

"I'm sure it's not her fault." He draws his mouth in a line, like he tastes something unpleasant. Adalwolfe isn't looking at Anders, though there's no air to it as if he's angry at his partner. Instead, his head is turned aside and clearly not focused on anything in the room. "My family - our family - you know how often they got in life or death situations."

It's the same, really. He can count so many times that he'd wondered if he shouldn't have tried it. Tried something. Tried anything. His father's voice in his head always stopped him, and maybe there's the difference. Maybe she took after mother. Do anything for love. Literally anything, even if it's to your detriment.

He smiles with just a little melancholy, turning to look back at Anders. "You might as well be cross with me if you're going to be the same with her."

"No, Hawke, that's not how that works." His voice was chilled, now he was the one with his gaze averted, but he kept his expression carefully neutral.

"The two of you may have countless similarities, but what matters is that you didn't use blood magic. Whatever caused her to turn to it, I'm sorry for it, but it was a choice she made, not you." He found something to do, something to busy his hands with, so he could keep his voice even and keep from snapping at his Hawke through his anger at the other.

He wanted to think she had a good reason, something truly understandable, he knew how desperate things could be, but he almost couldn't imagine what. What could there possibly be that wouldn't simply sound like a weak excuse coming from any other blood mage.

"She was, supposedly, good friends with her Anders. Did he know? Did she stand there and condemn every blood mage they faced? Ridicule the practice in front of everyone? Agree with him whenever the thought of how every blood mage was simply hurting every other mage in Thedas with their insanity and cruelty angered him? Did she promise him support and friendship to his face and then go behind his back the next second and practice the very thing hurting the mages in Kirkwall more than anything? How much worse do you think things would have gone if Meredith had found out Kirkwall's own Champion was exactly the kind of mage she claimed riddled the Circle? Proof of corruption at nearly the highest point would have called the Annulment swiftly and without opposition before anyone could stop her.
She's no different than Orsino."

Blue veins cracked down his cheeks and neck during his rant, but his voice merely developed a faint echo of something deeper, Justice scraping the surface with Anders' ire rather than fully emerging.

He wasn't her Anders, but he could imagine what kind of betrayal it would be if he was. Maybe it was better that he wasn't her Anders. If she did kill him, then perhaps that was a bigger blessing than he ever knew.

"You know, on occasion, you're intensely difficult to talk to about some things." He says it wryly, with a practiced patience that really means his is wearing just a little bit thin. Vengeance is close to the surface, Anders' anger spiking and drawing him up like water just starting to boil. He should be more careful, but he's sore and in pain and has just about had enough of this double standard.

"I'm not defending her lying, nor am I defending the use of blood magic. You know I feel just the same about it, but you yourself have pointed out that it's a symptom of the problem, not the problem itself. Mages turn to blood magic in desperation, because they feel there is no other option open to them. Maybe instead of blaming her for being weak you could think for a moment why she would do that. Why any of us do it."

He sits up again, struggling to do so, but he wants to drive this home. "Carver almost died at least three times when we were young. Bethany several more. My mother, my father. You know what the life of an apostate is like, you've lived it. The world had to be made to accept us, Anders. That's what you - we - fought for, but before that there was only survival. My father used it to earn his freedom, then never touched it again as far as I knew. Marian... I can't imagine she used it other than in the most dire of situations. It's not like with Merrill; I know her treating it as just another tool at her disposal pissed you right off, but Marian hid it, like our father hid it. That means something. She's used blood magic, but she's no blood mage."

He draws his mouth in a thin line, looking hard at Anders. "Can you really look me in the eye and tell me, unequivocally, that you've never even been tempted. Not to save yourself, or someone you love? Because I sure as fuck can't say that."

Anders doesn't look at him. Doesn't speak. His mind is carefully blank as he tries to regain control, but then his thoughts venture and he can feel Justice right behind them, dogging them.

Riona...he'd wanted to be stronger for her, able to protect himself and be useful. He was already practically a maleficar in the Chantry's eyes. And what if blood magic could have...for Karl? Justice surged and the cracks spread, Anders' eyes turning a bright lyrium-blue, but not quite the Fade-swirl of when Justice took over.

"No! It's a weakness, unnecessary. There's nothing good or forgivable about it. The fact that she has learned it is bad enough, when will those dire situations come closer and closer together? How long before her mind succumbs to temptation? She's already started it, how can she possibly end it now?"

There's a pregnant pause, and then those cracks surge and it's not Anders' eyes looking at him but the Fade energy of Vengeance leaking through. He lets himself drop back, looking away again. This isn't a conversation they can have, not so long as the spirit still occupies the space between all of Anders' thoughts.

"Nevermind. Look, I'm just tired. I did get kicked about only a few hours ago." He stares at the... honestly he's not sure what the machine is, but he stares at it hard in order not to look at Anders for the moment. "You should rest too. Regain your mana."

Justice fades and it's as though Adalwolfe's words are a prophecy. He's so damn tired all of a sudden. Tired and frustrated and guilty and too many other things. Things he didn't want to stand around here dwelling on as he waited for his mana to return. Well, not with this strained and fragile silence now between them.

Maker, he hated this. But he didn't dare open his mouth just yet.

Mind made up, Anders retrieved a sling and set about gently placing Adalwolfe's arm into it's cradle and securing it behind his neck. A flick of his wrist and healing energy suffused Hawke, everything Anders had recovered and some he dug out of Justice's reserves as though he could punish them both for this whole thing by scooping into what he shouldn't. He would have a headache and exhaustion would haunt him well into the morning for how deep he drew, but it was worth it simply to put Hawke back on his feet and out of the clinic.

Anders crossed to his desk to sit against it's edge and leaning on it a bit more than he would have been before. "You should be able to go and find her now. I hope she talks to you." He wouldn't meet Hawke's eyes, but his demeanor was cool and indifferent, the safest combination he could come up with under the circumstances.

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wolfehawke - 2016-10-05 03:07 (UTC) - Expand

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[OTA] I am my own man, I make my own luck

Action; Recovery

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