![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bottecellie) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
bakerstreet2012-11-29 07:44 pm
( help! i need someone! )
The Rescue Me Meme
'Cause, sometimes, you just can’t save yourself.
→ Post with your character’s name, canon, and any preferences in the subject line
→ Those tagging, go to RNG and roll for a number between one and ten.
→ Alternatively, just pick the choice you’re interested in most.
1. A Bad Date - You get a text, a phone call, or maybe you can just see the other person floundering on what clearly must be the worst date of their life. Time to step in and save the day.
2. Prison - Maybe they've been wrongly convicted, or maybe you're an accomplice. Either way, it's jailbreak. Maybe the guards will fall for the old 'wounded prisoner' technique.
3. Taken Hostage - They're being held at gunpoint, either for money or for fun. Maybe you can talk down their captors, or maybe you are a captor, secretly working to help them.
4. Abuse/Neglect - Your body is damaged, your suffering taken it's toll. You can't save yourself anymore. You're wounded, you're starving, maybe even dying. Someone, help.
5. Addiction - Just one more. Nothing bad will happen if you just get one more. Either way, you can't save yourself from this downward spiral. Someone else is going to have to help.
6. Yourself - One bad choice after another, your self-destructive tendencies are going to get the best of you unless someone steps in, quick, to save the day.
7. Climactic Situation - You're hovering over an active volcano, a pit of sharks, about to fall off a cliff. Whatever it is, you've only got precious seconds of life left.
8. Loneliness - You've been secluded, locked away, and the emptiness is overwhelming. You need company, or you might just drown.
9. Unwanted Social Function - A family reunion, your three o'clock board meeting, whatever it is, you desperately don't want to go. Hopefully your good buddy can come up with a distraction.
10. A Bad Romance - You're trapped in a relationship that's headed south, and you can't seem to get away from the other person. Looks like you need a helping hand, maybe a prince charming.
Taken from here.
Garrett Hawke | Dragon Age II | ota
no subject
no subject
1! And a small novel. :T;;;
[It's a beautiful early afternoon in Kirkwall, clear skies, a warm sun and a cool breeze. Which is carrying the smell of Lowtown out of the city for once. People are outside enjoying the weather, nothing's exploded or burnt down yet and all the stabbing so far has kept itself nicely away from Hightown's streets. A perfect day to be out and about.]
[Well, for anyone other than Fenris. Who has been out all night and is only just now dragging himself back towards 'home'. And while some might have liked to claim that they had passed out at dawn in the Hanged Man or even that they were undertaking the walk of shame from the red lantern district--something painfully normal for Kirkwall--all Fenris could claim was that he'd been busy killing people.]
[And he looks the part for it.]
[Splattered in blood, bruised and sporting an impressive dent in his chestplate, he considers not for the first time since coming back that he should have just found a quiet spot on the coast to spend the rest of the day, or at least jumped into the water first. But he's exhausted and at least when he's filthy, everyone else leaves him alone. He can clean up and pass out when he gets back to his estate.]
[Except that when he finally comes up over the last of the stairs into the marketplace, he immediately spots Hawke. Standing in front of some stall selling jewelery. With some noble girl Fenris doesn't recognize at first. Was that the Lord Whatshisname's daughter? The one from Tantervale? Maker, even from where he stood at the other end of the square, Fenris can see that Hawke looks miserable.]
[He could just pass on by--he's tired and in no mood to deal with nobility--but... well, it's Hawke. Fenris finds himself irritatingly compelled to go out of his way for him more often than he likes to admit.]
[Steeling himself, he takes a deep breath and starts in that direction. He waits until he's almost there, when he can catch Hawke's eye, before falling into a full out stagger, clutching his side and dripping more with theatrics than blood. He all but crashes into the girl, pointedly smearing one dirty hand down her arm, and then on to Hawke, grabbing for his shoulders and wheezing dramatically. Hawke is going to owe him money for this.]
You must take me to the Guard Captain!
it's a beautiful novel c:
[ He loves his mother. Truly, deeply, unconditionally, promise, but all this meddling in his nonexistent love life? She needs a hobby other than nudging, no, shoving him into the arms of every noble woman she deems nice. Not to mention, far too respectable for the likes of him. Does his mother know anything about him? Oh wait, that's probably why she is trying so hard to fix him up; ah, either way, his tastes run a little less curvy and a lot more dangerous, so indulging in an afternoon of dainty fingers clinging to his arm and then dragging him around the marketplace in hopes that he'll like her enough to buy her something is not his idea of fun. Maker, where are they now anyway? Jewelry? Oh and rings no less; wonderful.
Minding his manners, Hawke plays along with a nod here and a smile there, but his mind is drifting and his gaze with it and either he's hallucinating with the progression of his thoughts or that's actually Fenris. A blood dosed Fenris at that, which is, quite honestly, normal, but the sudden hitch to his
swaggerstride is new. Admittedly, he doesn't get it at first. Fenris has him worried for, oh, the first five seconds, enough for him to almost rival Miss Thing's hysterics when Fenris comes barreling into her, but then pointed gauntlets are edging into his shoulders and... – that damn, sodding elf, he's acting, isn't he? Which leaves the question of why.Arching a brow, Hawke slides his gaze to Tiecia, who is, of course, more concerned with trying to salvage her dirty arm than whatever scene Fenris is intent on making, and... oh wait. Right. That's why. Wheels finally turning as they should, he snaps his attention back to the elf and then he's smiling, unabashedly and full of humor, as he supplies a rather amused-- ] Right. Of course. [ He's still smiling in ridiculous fashion, but then there's the hitch and... actually, how are they to do this? Playing up their roles involves some touching and he knows, boy does he know, that touching isn't Fenris' favorite thing.
Swallowing, he loses his mirth and settles on something apologetic, carefully curling his fingers around a steel-clad wrist and pulling as he shifts, angling to hook Fenris' arm over the length of his shoulders. Don't fist him, don't fist him, don't fist him. Choosing to refrain from pushing his luck by wrapping an arm around the other's trimmed waistline, Hawke leaves it uselessly by his side. ] Apologies, Tiecia. [ Oh, that catches her attention. ] Duty calls. [ Something like that anyway. She doesn't seem to like that though; her eyes are going all round and soft with obvious disappointment, and he can see she's on the verge of saying something, but hoping to escape any potential offer to follow or to wait, he's starting off and pulling Fenris with him. ] We best hurry; we wouldn't want you bleeding all over her shoes too.
[ And there. End. Good day, Tiecia. Finding his smile again once they reach the next set of stairs, they've barely climbed two before he's muffling a chuckle and against better judgment, trying a-- ] Are these stairs too much? Will you be able to make it to the top or shall I carry you?
:3
[For those five seconds, Fenris wonders if this hasn't all backfired on him and he really will end up in Aveline's office trying to convince the both of them that he wasn't actually dying. He knows Hawke can be frustratingly obtuse sometimes, but-- oh, good, there's the light going on behind his eyes.]
[He lets Hawke drag his arm across his shoulders, leaning on him for the effect and doing his best to look like he really will fall over onto Tiecia's shoes. On the one hand, it's tempting just for the chance to wipe his face off on her dress, but on the other, those sickening doe eyes she's turning on Hawke are making it difficult to resist the urge to reach out and slap her.]
[Thankfully all temptation is removed for him when he's dragged off. He lifts one clawed hand into the air and manages a gurgled,] Justice! [for effect and then they're at the next set of stairs and so close to being out of sight when Hawke has to get smart. He can't resist, can he? Fenris goes out of his way, practically throws himself at his feet in the name of salvation, and he has to tease him for it. That's gratitude for you.]
Pick me up and you will be the only one here actually in need of healing. [He hisses back at Hawke, making a show of dragging his feet over the steps.]
no subject
[ Fenris has – in Hawke's warped perceptions – always had a taste for theatrics, whether it's carrying on a, mostly, one-sided conversation of eloquently cutting down every known mage in existence, or taking a trivial issue and blowing it up into astronomical proportions, but actual acting? He isn't half bad. Hawke might even admit to being impressed. Though, considering Hawke finds interest in just about anything Fenris does, it probably doesn't mean much in the end. Still... he smiles through the hiss and tilts his chin for a brief, sideways glance at the other, before he carries on in that merry, ambitious way of his. ] All right, all right. No carrying.
[ He tugs, just marginally, on the elf's wrist however, as though to remind the both of them that he is carrying him in a way, even if it's slight; he might also be slowing his steps, taking his time to climb each one, because he knows once they reach the top and turn the corner, this is going to be over. The other's guard will go back up and the distance will find its way between them, and while, sure, the blood staining the other's jerkin is seeping into his own leathers and ruining them in kind, this is... nice. Really nice. Silly notions aside however, Hawke forces his attention forward again and draws his voice out on a hum, waiting only a moment longer for the next tease. ] I wonder who will enjoy hearing of this more. Varric or Isabela. [ Because they will; they might even be lurking in the shadows watching already. ] My bet is on Varric. [ He'll write an entire story of Fenris' adventure, embellishments and all – so guess what, in his version, Hawke will have carried Fenris up the stairs. Ha! ] Yours?
no subject
[He can tell when Hawke slows down, having grown too used to pacing the man when they're out on whatever new errand has his name attached to it, and maybe there's a bit of leftover instict, years he'd like to forget spent walking close enough to someone to read the subtle changes. Either way, it's not hard to take an educated guess as to why Hawke is taking his time, and it's not because they're still pretending Fenris can't handle it under his own power. It's a little painful in all the ways it shouldn't be, but he allows it because it's only one blighted flight of stairs and he can give Hawke that.]
[Now he'll owe him money and a bath.]
[The moment is immediately ruined when he opens his mouth again and Fenris rolls his eyes, barely resisting the urge to pinch the man's shoulder between sharp steel fingertips in retaliation.] My bet will on none of your pathetic standing about like Tiecia's sad little pet making it into whatever story you tell them. [Hawke isn't the only one who can get a few jabs in.] We might also wager how many of your teeth will end up on the floor of the Hanged Man, depending on what else you feel the need to... embellish on.
[There's humor enough in his tone, although carefully controlled in that tight, dry way he has with jokes.]
But they tell me I'm a terrible gambler, so perhaps you should reconsider asking.
no subject
[ Ah, touché. And... violent. Hawke presses his lips in, as though to protect said teeth, but then the edges twist up and he's smiling all over again, seemingly unable to take offense to anything Fenris deems worth saying. But even so, he knows he needs to stop. He does. He needs to stop hanging onto every word Fenris gives him, every passing joke, every shred of the camaraderie that mimics what they had before one ill-fated evening. The one that isn't to be mentioned or even remembered. Their courtship of sorts, if it can even be called that, has always been shrouded in ambiguity, but everything since has been a nightmare to figure out; obviously, things aren't broken between them and they manage, somehow, to get along, but sometimes Hawke thinks that it hurts more to pretend that they're okay than it would to face the problem and let something break. Because there's hope this way and he isn't certain how he'll fare if it proves meaningless in the end.
But that's something to worry about later, right? When he's alone and when no one needs him for another disaster, another errand, another party, and he can wholly reflect on how this isn't what he wants. For now, however? It's enough. ]
Anyone is terrible in comparison to those two. [ The words are light, the syllables pitching every so often with the occasional chuckle, and Hawke merely grins wider, even as they near the top of the stairs. In short, Varric only enters bets he's certain to win and Isabela, well, she cheats, so their judgments mean little. Still... – he clicks his tongue and— ] Let's save us both some trouble and keep this our secret, hm? [ There's a tiny, miniscule, barely even happened wince in his confidence following that but it passes with ease and he finds his humor instead. ] I wouldn't want them to embellish on their own, be blamed for it and... – [ A breath and then a laugh. ] I rather like my teeth. [ Three, two, one more step and there, success; they reach the top and he leads them along, savoring the last bit of closeness with a tip of his chin and a glance at the other. ] Though, without a few of them, preferably the ones in front... maybe the noblewomen will leave me alone? [ And cue that wide, dazzling smile. See? Isn't it too pretty for anyone's own good? ]
no subject
[Idle threats like to roll off Hawke's back, Fenris knows this. It would probably be difficult for someone like him to carry themselves as he does if they didn't. But still, he can't stop the way the corner of his mouth twitches up just a fraction at the reaction. There are... novels worth of things unsaid between them these days, but there's a familiarity between that manages to linger despite it all and it's what allows him to try and hide a smile when Hawke defends his poor teeth. It's a private thing, usually saved for when the rest of the world wasn't looking- or at least when he can duck his head and pretend to be limping.]
[He makes it up the last of the stairs, humming his agreement to Hawke's offer. See, he knew they could come to a compromise.]
If some of the noblemen and their wives here are any indication, missing a few teeth might not be so terrible. [They round the corner and as soon as the walls muffle the sound of the market, he's taking his weight back onto his own legs, pulling away and tugging on his arm to get it back.] But I rather like them too, so lets not find out, hm?
[That smile tests his resolve every time. And it's that attraction that hits him hardest when his guard is down, the magnetism that Hawke seems to exude naturally, leveled at him, whether the man realizes he's doing it or not. It had dragged him in, completely scattered his sense of better judgement for one night and led to this. Now he stares it down at every turn, testing his resolve against what he knows Hawke wants. What he wants, in the same way he wants everything else that remains just out of reach.]
no subject
[ Annnnnd back to normal. He lets him go without a hint of resistance and smiles along, even taking a small step away to give Fenris that much more breathing room. The tease is encouraging though, as in any nice rarity that comes out of the elf's mouth, and Hawke doesn't have to muster up much to keep his good mood, even when his heartbeat is faster than it should be, louder, enough so that he idly wonders if he's the only one aware of it. He clears his throat at the silly thought and nods, agreeing without his usual audacity to, well, ruin any pleasantry with a joke; instead, he glances the way they've just come and lightly scratches at the bit of skin the heavy leather of his collar doesn't hide.
Now what?
Getting away had been the plan and now that they are far enough away, where are they to go from here? Up the way to their homes? Hawke isn't in any hurry to return to his estate, considering his mother is under the impression that he'll be with Tiecia for a few hours more, which means he's in need of a distraction – or a hide-out – until early evening, but as for Fenris...
Hawke glances to him, taking in the sight of bloodied clothing and disheveled, er, everything. He probably wants to clean up. Rest even. A good friend would let him go and bid farewell with a thank you, but there's one, very tiny question Hawke has to ask first. ] So... [ Always a great way to begin an otherwise inconspicuous conversation. ] Did I look as helpless as I think I did or... is there another reason for... [ And after the trail off, he shrugs a shoulder and makes a vague wave of his hand, smiling to fill in the blank. Yeah; is there another reason Fenris decided to jump in and force him away from that woman? Jealousy? Nah, that's too hopeful, isn't it? Perhaps his company is direly needed for a wine binge and Fenris couldn't wait? ]
no subject
[Fenris is grateful for the distance. Not because he wants to be away from Hawke exactly, but because it makes it easier to do so. For their own good, he just keeps telling himself.]
[He follows the other man's gaze back to the corner they'd just rounded, checking for his own sake that they hadn't been followed, but no one coming up from the market seemed interested in them. Well, aside from the wide berth they gave Fenris when the blood made itself obvious. Which was all the more of a reminder that he had a goal in mind before rescuing Hawke. He starts to turn away--he'll collect later he thinks, maybe the next time he needs some leverage--but is promptly stopped in his tracks before he can even get a step in, a sort of wary curiosity flickering over his expression when he's addressed. And then Hawke asks his question and... oh.]
[Truth be told, Fenris isn't sure he could deny any... ulterior motives for dragging Hawke away. Yes, it had mostly been because he'd looked blighted miserable and maybe even if things weren't so complicated between them, he'd still have a soft spot for him that wouldn't have let him easily walk away. But...]
[He shifts on his feet, an unconscious twitch when he's unsettled, and picks with about as much awareness at the red band around his wrist. He doesn't back down, though; doesn't let his attention slide away as it's want to do when he doesn't want to talk about something. Of course, none of that means he's going to actually answer him.]
...If you want to talk, may I suggest doing so back at the estate? I would prefer to be off the streets in this condition.
[Which is about as close to an offer to come back with him as Hawke is likely to get.]
ROFL. Nitpicker :|
Quirking one side of his mouth, he puffs out an amused breath and glances beyond Fenris, eyeing a group of finely dressed women, each squawking, not quite silently, something about Lowtown riffraff. ] Had your fill of scandalizing the refined folk for the day? [ Glancing back to Fenris, he wrinkles his nose on a play of exasperation and then exhales through a smile. ] All right. The estate it is. [ Getting out of the public eye is always a good thing in his book, especially when Tiecia is still very much around and might find the need to travel this way to go... complain to his mother? Nah, she won't do that, right?
… Hm.
Either way, he's certain he'll be hearing something of it later, but for now, he turns to match the other and with a hopeful glance, tips his chin and then nods forward, as though coaxing him to go. Actually-- ] Lead the way? [ He knows Fenris enjoys following him, but. ]
Don't judge me 8I
[After all, such delicate sensibilities are so easily bruised and Fenris wouldn't want to batter them so badly that he couldn't keep doing it the next day. Being an offense demands a fine balance.]
[Whether or not he's actually joking, he readjusts the sword between his shoulders and starts off. He's not exactly looking forward to having to answer Hawke's question, provided he remembers that he asked it at all, but having him over, away from everything and everyone else, where they can talk and sometimes even relax... that he enjoys. He's one of the few people he can talk to without having to worry about being judged or coddled or whatever else other people seem fit to think he needs or wants. Hawke knows more about him than any other person, which he's grateful for in a way, but there are also times, when he's feeling particularly... blackened, that it scares him.]
[He's not sure if he should be worried about what will happen today, but for the moment, he can look forward to being 'home' with someone he trusts.]
[They pass the Chantry steps and Fenris' eyes instinctively flicker over them, looking without really thinking much of it for familiar white armor. It's something of a habit lately, knowing whether he should hurry his pace or pause, depending on his mood. Of course, Maker forbid he ever give Sebastian the impression that he doesn't completely offend him. But thankfully the stairs and the plaza are quiet and easy to slip by, clearing the way to the secluded block of estates beyond.]
['Home' welcomes them with squeaky hinges and damp air and Fenris can feel the tension lifting from his shoulders like a physical weight. As strange as it is, he feels safe here. Especially with Hawke at his back.]
[Upstairs, his sword is propped up against the fireplace mantle--he'll have to give it a good cleaning later--before he starts to work on the straps for his gauntlets. He made exceptions for necessity, but here he could afford to take care of his armor properly instead of just bathing with it still on.]
[He waves one hand in a general 'make yourself comfortable' gesture for Hawke. Honestly, by now, it was just something that was assumed. The man came in and lounged in his chairs without an invitation these days.]
So tell me, was that Leandra's idea? Your little outing today?
too late. it has already been done. :|
So no answers, Fenris? Going to ask your own questions instead?
He's expected as much and he breathes out on something akin to a scoff, flicking his gaze briefly to the elf, watching the diligent play of fingers over those straps. ] She would like nothing more than to see me settle down. [ That ever present humor is there as it always is, but there's something heavy, almost wistful in his voice too. ] To take a wife and give her some grandchildren to fuss over. [ A pause and a slight narrowing of his eyes, and then everything relaxes with the sound of his chuckle. She underestimates the kind of offspring he'd bring into this world; if she's envisioning sweet, polite things – and he knows she is – then she'd be sourly disappointed. Or perhaps not. Doesn't matter if they mimicked his charming personality and reckless abandon... they'd be her grandchildren to love and nurture and protect.
They'd be that something she needs to fill the void of their very broken, very lost family.
Father dead. Bethany dead. Carver as good as dead. He's her last hope for normalcy, the only heir able to extend the family name and of course, as everything else, he can't get that right either. Ah well, what's another failure in her eyes? He shrugs a shoulder, as though answering his own inner thought and then slides into the bench-seat, idly pushing at one bottle – empty – a second bottle – empty – and a third – ha, not empty – before dragging it close. ] I indulge her encouragements... [ Because it's easier on both of them, even though they both know-- ] But one of these days, she''ll finally realize I have no intention of playing house.
/sobs
[He watches Hawke mill around and investigate the little collection of bottles. Apparently he hadn't completely finished off the one last night. He could complain, but he'd probably have offered it to him anyway eventually.]
Your mother is a good woman. Why not tell her?
[The subtext is blatantly obvious but skimmed over because he can. Because he's still not answering those questions. Not until he absolutely has to. And maybe there's a part of him that wonders if one day Hawke might give in to what she wants; if this is all just... borrowed time, waiting to run out.]
[He tugs one gauntlet off, then the other, and sets them both down on another bench. His hands are still sore and the callouses on his palms feel rougher than usual, but it's to be expected after the use they got the night before. He rubs the stiff joints and glances at Hawke, expression carefully neutral. He's not sure he wants to know if he'll change his mind one day, the thought making his stomach twist in uncomfortable ways.]
/comforts. shh. it's okay. i still accept you.
There's something to be said about this though. The quiet intimacy of sitting by and watching the otherwise unimportant routine of tugging gloves free and baring marred hands. They work together. They adventure and quest and whatever else through the worse parts of Kirkwall and further still to the Wounded Coast; a small reprieve from heavy armor and a moment to nurse wounds is nothing new, but being privy to it here, in this temporary home that isn't so temporary anymore is... something. He doesn't want to put a name to the warmth finding its spark in his chest and tugging hard on the muscle still beating a tad too quickly there; instead, he droops his gaze to the wine bottle, still holding no true want to indulge in it further than spinning it slowly, barely, between his palms.
So why hasn't he told mother? It's the same reason for all cowardice. ]
It's a difficult thing. To look someone in the eye and tell them you can't give them what they want. [ He knows what it's like to be on the other end of it and how it doesn't change much in the long run. Even so, any petty accusation is lacking in his voice and instead, there's a hollow sort of resignation. He can't help the words, but he doesn't want this for him or Fenris or them, and so, as he does best, he forces the mood to bend and change as he sees fit, mustering up a new smile to match. ]
I imagine it might be fun to wait until she's run out of eligible women. [ Fingers tap against the glass bottleneck and he's still staring down at it, giving the both of them a hint of privacy. ] It would do something great for my reputation. [ Hawke, Kirkwall's undatable. Catchy, hm? ]
|D
[And maybe it wouldn't be so painful if they could fight about it, if they could argue or snap at each other because then at least there would be some kind of outlet for the feelings he doesn't know what to do with- how to deal with. The ones that drove him away to begin with. He wants to get angry at Hawke about it, but he just switches the topic as if he could just... keep it all to himself. Hypocritical? Perhaps.]
[He barely listens to whatever Hawke is saying afterward, yanking sharply on the straps for his chestplate in some useless attempt to find an outlet for his frustration, but there's not much helping it and he lacks the patience to do anything other than unceremoniously drop the steel plate to the stone floor. He leaves with the echoes of the sound, no reply, no excuse given, just an exit with the grace he has left to him, slipping into an attached side room where there's a basin of water waiting.]
[This was stupid he thinks as he yanks with impatient fingers at the top few clasps of his tunic and plunges his hands into the cold water. Stupid and foolish and... and he really needs to get a hold of himself. It was his decision, he should be able to live with it. But it's not just his life, is it?]
[He scrubs his hands over his face, through his hair, and just barely resists the urge to throw something.]
Feeeeenrrriiiis. Why you do this?
To be fair, his comment had been a low blow, even if he hadn't intended it to be. Surprise, he'd said something stupid. Wonder how many weeks of careful indifference this will undo. Grounding his breath out through the frustrated clench of teeth, Hawke finally picks up the bottle and knocks it back, taking a swig of much needed wine. He should go. Or maybe he needs to. He isn't entirely sure which, but he's already had to fake his way through one proposed match, and he doesn't want to repeat the opposite by pretending he doesn't want this. He's never been a good actor anyway. Obviously.
But knowing what he needs never quite fits in with execution and after pushing himself up to his feet, he stalls on indecision. His gaze drifts to the doorway of that other room, unable to see the elf from his position but he can hear him, and for whatever reason, he finds himself wandering that way. Closure, maybe? Confrontation? He slows and pauses on the edge of the doorway, hesitating near the wall, and after a moment, inevitably talks himself out of breaching Fenris' privacy by turning the corner. Instead, he pivots and leans, slumps even, against the wall, staring out across the room with an attention that isn't quite there. ] Why did you step in?[ He doesn't expect much from it, his hope already stretched thin, but he has to try once more for an answer. That is why they came back here, isn't it? ]
Because AAAAAAAANGST AND FEEEEEEELINGS that's why. :|
[He reminds himself to breathe, leaning over the basin and it's old, well used table; deep, deliberate breaths. It's enough to steady the roil of his emotions by the time Hawke's voice breaks the silence and keeps him from snarling his answer. And it is an answer that's required now. He's run as far as he can go without causing even more damage and even that he thinks is only for the grace of Hawke's stubbornness not to let him get away with it.]
[He takes another moment, another few breaths, to find his courage and his voice.]
...I don't know. I... [He swallows. Try again.] Because I know it's not what you want, even if it's not my place to- [His fingers clench and unclench against the wood, as if they might somehow squeeze the right words out of thin air.] -to decide whether or not you should be.. content with anything. Not when it's my fault that you would even face such a position. It was... foolish. Stupid. I was stupid, thinking it would do anything to absolve this... terrible failure.
Hawke would smother that angst away :| IF FEN WOULD JUST LET HIM.
He knocks his head to the wall for a dull thud and then breathes out, drawing it thin until his lungs burn for the inhale; terrible failure, huh? ] There's nothing to absolve. [ With fingers restless at his sides, he curls and clenches and fidgets them as he turns his head, as though itching to peek around the corner and have this conversation face to face, but it's the same sodding respect that he'd had the morning that kept him in his bed, kept him from running after a retreating Fenris that keeps him still now. He's never wanted to push too hard or too much; he's always been far too hesitant of damaging an already damaged soul, but who has his careful handling helped? Either of them?
He frowns with the thought and glances forward again, slipping his arms over his chest and gripping tight, just to keep those blasted twitches at bay. ] You left. You did what you deemed... necessary. [ And he's shaking his head, even though there's no one to benefit from it. ] I don't understand it beyond that but I'm trying. [ Forgotten memories and a rapid coupling are reason to slow down and to talk and to whatever else, but shutting him out with a simple apology? Even still, his forgiveness has long since been given. ] The only one holding a grudge for what happened between us is you.
But Hawke! TRAAAAAUMA.
Why should you forgive me for ruining yours? [He suspects that anyone else would tell him that he's beating himself up, but it's truth--all of it--as far as he's concerned. He pushes away from the table and yanks at the leather armor still hanging over his shoulders, stripping it off and dropping it without about as much thought as his chestplate.] I would want for little else in this world if I could be rid of this doubt and fear that plague my soul and stand at your side without their shadow. But what good am I against foes that cannot feel the edge of my blade?
BUT BUT. This pains his manly heart.
It can be a hard lesson to learn but loss shouldn't define one's life and dictate it in turn; it's easier to let it consume, but... ] There comes a time when you must stop running, when you turn and face the tiger, remember? [ Deadly in the soft light of the alienage all those years ago, there had been something undeniably profound about Fenris' fiery spirit, enough so that Hawke's heart has been a lost cause since; what happened to that? When had Fenris lost that determination? ]
Isolating yourself won't heal you. [ Bitter? No, but there's a reprimand tucked away in his voice. He shifts with the words and dips his chin, pressing fingertips to the knot between his brows and rubbing in to unwind the tension. ] I made a mess of things before, but I can help. I want to. You only need allow me.
He knew what this was. He signed the waver.
[And it makes him angry to have it pushed back at him. He doesn't need this reminder. It eats him up each day on its own. He's not sure if he regrets that night with Hawke, but there are times when he wishes things could go back to being what he understood.]
[Lashing out, he knocks the basin from the table, sending it shattering against the stone floor in a mess of water and porcelain shards. And it's completely ignored as he bursts from the room, rounding on Hawke, all narrowed eyes and bared teeth.]
Don't you DARE preach to me of things you have no concept of! Do you think I didn't try that night? It was agony to leave and if you think for a moment that it wasn't the last choice after all others had been exhausted, then you know even less than I would give you credit for. I would do battle against all the armies of the magisters themselves, but I cannot fight my own heart!
Gdi. He should've read the fine print.
He meets the other's glare with one of his own, and squares his shoulders to stand straighter, giving himself a hint more leverage to counteract the strong line of the wall behind him. ] You already are! [ Maybe there isn't a way to win in this situation. Maybe Fenris is meant to be at odds with himself whichever way he goes, but he wants to be with Hawke, doesn't he? It had been agony to leave, right? It's an excuse. For how vehemently he says he can't fight, he's doing an awfully good job of denying his heart now. ] I thought you wished to be free-- [ Okay. Bad idea. The words are forming and he knows he needs to stop, but he's tired too. He's nearing the end of his rope too. There's only so much stubborn ignorance he can take. ]-- You keep yourself chained, not your past. [ Hadriana, Danarius, forgotten memories; they play their part but they're mere scapegoats to hide behind, aren't they? ]
No one ever reads the terms of service for anything.
And then they regret it. Fools.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
So this whole thread went from goofy to downright depressing with necksnapping speed lol
I still don't even know what happened. But my soul weeps. :|
We made choices, apparently. Depressing choices. :|