For all your angsty needs.

[righteously]

 

Hurt/Comfort - Hurt/comfort is a fan fiction genre that involves the physical pain or emotional distress of one character, who is cared for by another character. The injury, sickness or other kind of hurt allows an exploration of the characters and their relationship.

- Post with Character Name | Series in the subject.
- Others respond.
- Roll 1-10 at RNG for a scene, play it out and have fun!

1. INJURY. You've been injured. Broken bones or bleeding out or maybe just a tiny little papercut. The choice is yours.
2. SICKNESS. You're sick and laid up in bed, at home or in a hospital. The severity is up to you.
3. FEAR/ANXIETY. Something is happening and you're scared beyond belief.
4. LOSS OF SENSES. Sight, touch, taste, hearing, smell, etc. You've lost some important sense or ability and now you're left to deal with it.
5. DESPAIR. Nothing is good or right anymore and you can't shake the depression. Maybe that friend of yours can help though...
6. BREAKUP. You've been dumped. You need someone to comfort you, possibly by the one who dumped you.
7. MAKE UP. Fight or break up, it's time to makeup.
8. RESCUED. You've just been held captive and/or tortured for however long and finally, someone has come to the rescue.
9. BAD ROMANCE. Fight, cheated on, abused, whatever the case is, someone else can clearly see you need comfort from someone who isn't your terrible lover tonight.
10. LOSS. You've experience a loss of some kind and need help getting through it.
11. INSANITY. You're seeing things that aren't really there, hearing voices, or you're just convinced you're at your wit's end finally and you're going to crack. Maybe someone can give you a helping hand.
12. TIRED. You've had a heard life recently and you're just worn too thin to really care anymore. There's no fight left in you anymore. Can someone help change your mind?
13. ADDICTION. Drugs, alcohol, sex, gambling, or any other type of addiction has got you in its grasp. First time or relapse. Will someone be able to save you?
14. INSOMNIA. You can't sleep anymore, no matter how hard you try. Maybe someone can give you company.
15. NIGHTMARES. Or, on the other end of the spectrum, you can't sleep without gruesome, horrible nightmares. Either someone is stuck in your dream with you, witnessing it or they're just waking you up, soothing you out of it.
16. BLACKMAIL. You've been caught doing something you shouldn't and you were blackmailed because of it
17. SEPARATION. You're going to be separated for awhile or were separated for a long time. Either make up for lost time or try to spend every last moment together.
18. VIOLATED. You've been violated in some way. Can include sexual overtones or not. Can someone help you through it?
19. STRANDED. You've been stranded somewhere remote, with no help of anyone finding you for awhile. Can you survive this together?
20. SINS. You're feeling the weight of your sins and guilt clearer than ever. Can someone give you absolution or lessen the ache any?
21. SECRET. It's difficult having to keep that secret of yours, be it a relationship or something you just don't want to share with anybody else. Maybe it's okay to talk about it now though...
22. ADDITION. Babies should be joyous things unless you're in a situation where you know you won't be able to care for them. Either you've adopted or found out you're pregnant.

Comments

Garrett Hawke || Dragon Age II

[unrelentingly]

[ooc: Prefer to be the one giving comfort so I welcome the broken.]

↪ 14

[pilfering]

[ She stands by the window, staring down at nothing in particular. Sleep continues to allude her into the wee hours of the morning. Every so often she'll shift her weight from one foot to the other, but for the most part she remains still, lost in her own dark thoughts. ]

Romance active or just friendship?

[unrelentingly]

[A small whine pierces what was once quiet, followed by the sound of footsteps and a mabari's nails clacking against the floor. A groggy-looking Hawke stands nearby, eyes set on Isabela as the dog lightly pants at his side. It was unusual for the woman to spend the night - but she, like all of his companions, was always welcome. Hawke's door was always open.

Stifling a yawn, he takes a step closer to that window, closer to the woman.]

I didn't expect to see you awake this early...

5.

[justice_is_blond]

[There's nothing for it, anymore. No matter what he does, Anders can't save all of the mages in the Gallows, and this is slowly sinking in. The underground is destroyed, slaughtered; more mages are losing their lives by the day. Every delay in taking action means more innocent blood is spilled, but he's in Hawke's foyer anyway, pacing, as if somehow just being near the man can fix things.

It can't. Justice has pointed this out, repeatedly, especially on the way over. Anders doesn't care. He needs this, for reasons he can't put words to.]

Are we going romanced or just friendship? Also assuming Act 3 or just before Act 3?

[unrelentingly]

[After the Qunari threat and the defeat of the Arishok, Hawke had expected life in Kirkwall to become easier. This was far from it. As Champion, he had to struggle to keep the peace between two opposing forces that seemed ready to burst at any moment. Appease Orsino, templars would start sniffing about outside his door. Appease Meredith, the bitterness he felt in Orsino's gaze was palpable - and the way the other mages in the Gallows would stare at him, their mistrust was all the more unnerving. There was no happy middle ground when he wore the mantle of the Champion, he simply needed to accept that.

...While doing all he could when he wore the mantle of Garrett Hawke. He'd done all that an ordinary human could do for Anders when it came to helping with the mage underground. There was only so much he could do there - so much he was permitted to with compromising his position. A glance at the weekly guard schedule in the tower, sneaking in correspondence letters, using whatever limited power he had within the Gallows (and it was vastly limited) to help and support Anders with his task. That was what made it all the more surprising to see Anders at the estate, pacing about the front room.

Brow furrowing a bit, Hawke approached his companion, concern evident in his tone.]

Anders?

1 & 8. Mind cross-canon? Also, please PM me if this doesn't work. :)

[soulfuldoll]

*Ryota couldn't ever remember being anywhere else but that dank basement from the time of his creation. Certainly, he'd been exposed to enough stimuli to grow into an adult, but it was an entirely new experience to decide to rebel, to leave of his own will.

*The mages hadn't liked that too much, but it was a miracle that he'd been rescued before too much could be done. While he couldn't feel physical pain, the emotional backlash of the fact had left its mark. Unable to feel pain, he didn't seem to notice the cuts and bruises that littered his skin. As it was, he remained where he'd slumped over against a wall, clothing in tatters and bloodstained. No broken bones - for they were made of the finest steel - but his shoulder was dislocated. For anyone else, the doll looked exactly like a normal human, except maybe for the onyx-black eyes.*

...I don't know how I can thank you.

*The fact that he hadn't been killed despite his origins from rituals, a forge, and blood magic, he felt was a miracle. Not that he'd have blamed them if they'd killed him. He was an artificial human, after all. Such a thing had been proclaimed for all to hear.*

But I want to do anything in my power to do so. This isn't the self as a doll speaking, but me.

*Of course, he'd like to get out of this corpse-ridden place, but one thing at a time, right?*

Cross-canon is fine! Hopefully this response works.

[unrelentingly]

[This stranger appeared human but it grew more evident by the moment that he was something very different. He'd heard about the magisters of Tevinter creating life but he hadn't imagined it would be anything like this. This was something that went beyond the scope of blood magic. Whatever it was that compelled Hawke to infiltrate and rescue this - this creation, this life - he couldn't rightly say. A letter had arrived, instructions given and a curiousity that refused to be sated until he saw it with his own eyes. He knew not who'd sent the request, no identity of who had tracked down this unholy forge where this life had been crafted but what mattered to Hawke was that it-- he-- was free.

Or on the road to it.]

There isn't any need to thank me. [Hawke kept his voice quiet, shaking his head. They weren't entirely in the clear just yet - the rogue knew there was still a likelihood that they were being pursued. They needed to continue forward, they needed to watch themselves.]

I couldn't simply leave you like that. Not when I saw you... What they'd done to you.

<3 It does. Thank you. c:

[soulfuldoll]

...He'd claimed to love me, you know. The leader. *The doll's voice was bitter, and he slowly moved to try and stand up. His legs shook from the effort, and some of the movement irritated his wounds.*

I suppose he did not consider that I would develop the emotion called 'jealousy'. That I would want things beyond this cage.

*Little by little, he stood up under his own power, only place a hand against the wall for balance. He briefly gave his useless arm a look, not knowing how to fix it, and then took a few steps towards Hawke.

*The reminder of what he'd gone through... he remembered being asked if it was possible that he could drown, then held underwater (he couldn't drown, apparently. Didn't even need to breathe.) Electricity hadn't hurt, but he was aware of his mind scrambling about from the surge, and then nothing. When he awoke, it was to being slapped awake... and then... Well, by the time Hawke arrived, they'd decided to 'have fun with him, as his body was intended to be used'. Thank the Maker for interruptions.

*He shook his head slightly, as if the thoughts could be freed from his mind that way.*

I can walk under my own power, I think. I will try to keep up. *A beat, and he considered a possibility. There was no helping it - having his trust violated had affected him.* That is... if you would not mind escorting me out?

[unrelentingly]

[Even though it didn't appear to cause him any pain, that arm was a concern in its current state. As were all those gashes across his skin. Even if he wasn't exactly an ordinary human, they would surely cause some complications. It's enough to make Hawke grimace, concern evident enough in his expression and in his tone.]

I wouldn't dream of abandoning you at this point. We've made it this far together - we shall keep going... Though I am a bit worried about that arm. [It hung so uselessly at his side like that - it would be easy enough to set. As a rogue and a mercenary to boot, he knew a few things about fixing his own injuries. He'd certainly had enough of them over the years.]

Does it hurt? Would you let me see it?

[He held both hands out, palms up, offering them slowly. After everything he'd overheard, everything he'd seen, Hawke didn't want to risk any sudden movements, anything that might startle him. Doll, creation, lifeform - he was more than that. Just standing here and speaking with him as they made their escape was proof enough that he was still human, he still had feelings. Actions still affected him.]

[soulfuldoll]

I... do not feel physical pain. It just feels numb. *A very faint smile tugged at the doll's lips. He took several steps closer, stopping once he was in front of him. So long as he focused on the topic at hand, he was fine. He'd get through this.*

You may see it, and if you know how to fix it, you may. It looks quite strange as it is, doesn't it? What is the word... dislocated? In any case, I feel things like temperature, pressure, texture, and pleasure. I can eat things and taste them, too.

*The admittance made the doll blush slightly.* O-oh... I was... given a name, too. 'Ryota'. *He smiled warmly.* I am... happy to have met you.

*Even if he can't get out of this place alive, he was happy to have met this savior. He doubted that he'd die - his injuries weren't grave - but he hadn't fought before, and he lacked armor to protect himself.*

[unrelentingly]

Ryota. [Hawke repeated that name - his name. This man had a name and it was one Hawke intended to use.] My family name is Hawke, most people simply call me that, though my name is Garrett.

[Nothing wrong with sharing a piece of himself with his newest companion, after all.] Now, you'll likely feel pressure when I do this. It may feel unusual but let my hands guide you. I'll get it back in place.

[He took Ryota's hand and carefully worked on positioning his arm, moving it inwards to his chest before guiding the man's arm, rotating the arm and shoulder while keeping his upper arm stationary. It was definitely a dislocation, easy enough to fix - and soon enough, there's a loud pop when the joints clicks back together, a look of relief crossing Hawke's face.

At least he should be able to use that arm now.]

There. That should do it. At least that's one less thing we need to worry about - we should be able to make progress now.

[soulfuldoll]

*It felt strange when it popped back into place, and Ryota made a slight face of discomfort until the feeling fully came rushing back. To test it, he attempted to move his arm and flex his fingers - and it succeeded. Pleasantly surprised, he filed the information away for later in order to repair himself if it happened again.*

Garrett, thank you.

*Reaching out, he grasped the rouge's hand and gave it a firm squeeze. He felt a little awkward about giving hugs instead, so this had to do.*

Shall we leave? I... don't know how to fight, admittedly, even though I'm built to be able to do so. I can learn quickly if I have to.

*He couldn't hide his concern. Even though they had just met, he owed Garrett so much. He wanted to be able to repay him in any way that he could.*

8

[magerights]

[Anders had always been terrified of this happening, confiding it to Garrett on dark nights when they lay curled up together in the other man's bed, his sense on high alert still after spotting a templar a little too close to his clinic. They'd been cracking down harder, both of them knew, and Anders always dreaded that the worst would happen. He'd made light of it, once or twice, a little part of a much younger man who made jokes about the things that bothered him showing through again.

But they'd been jokes made when they were far from danger and together. They weren't funny at all when he'd been ambushed by a troop of templars as he'd left the clinic, his magic blocked immediately and any attempts to fight brutally beaten down. The only hope Anders had as he'd been dragged off and thrown in a stinking cell, more aware than ever what fate was likely to be in store for him, was in the flicker of movement he'd spotted darting away towards the city; one of the runners who took messages for him sometimes. He could only hope that the templars hadn't realised as well, and that the girl would make it to Hightown and Garrett's door.]

[unrelentingly]

[For Hawke, it was either a stroke of luck or one of excellent timing when he decided to take the dog out for his usual run about Hightown. The mabari happily trotted about, sniffing everything - the same bush he'd sniffed earlier that morning, turning the same piece of loose cobble stone over with a paw to make certain there was nothing tasty hiding beneath it. Kirkwall was hardly the idea location to keep a mabari but Moses had always found ways to keep himself mostly entertained. The dog often proved himself too smart for his own good.

Watching his antics, Hawke could only laugh, patting the dog's backside and debating whether or not he should make a trip to Lowtown. Perhaps pay a visit to Varric - or maybe even stop in to see his uncle. As he contemplated this matter, his mabari froze up and went on the alert, the sound of footsteps racing towards them. Letting out a bark of warning, Hawke quickly recognized the young girl that approached him - she was one of the orphans from Darktown. He didn't recall her name but that was hardly a concern, the moment those words dropped from her lips. Hawke could feel his blood almost run cold at the words, the dread rising up in his throat and twisting in his stomach.

But there was no time to think. He needed to act. Quickly thanking the girl, he whistled and made a wide arcing gesture with his arm, calling for his dog to follow. Moses barked in the affirmative and took off ahead of his master, the pair racing towards the docks. They needed to get to the Gallows - the templars already had a head start but Hawke refused to let that shake him. He needed to get there and he needed to get there fast - before Meredith gave her orders.

Flicking a sovereign to the ferryman, it was enough for four strong boatmen to hop in and begin paddling. The small boat began to glide through the water, Moses leaping out and swimming at the boat's side, paddling hard and keeping up, despite his solid build. Docking at the gallows, Hawke tossed another two coins to the men, promising double if they waited there. Six sovereigns would be a small price to pay if it meant Anders' safety.

Moses ran ahead and Hawke followed in tow, the mabari barking loudly as the pair raced towards the Templar Hall entrance. If Anders was anywhere, it would be here - no one would be foolish enough to lock him up in the Gallows Prison. They knew how well Anders knew the area. Hawke could deny Anders' involvement before the assembly all he wanted, protecting his partner through his wealth and his status as Champion - but the templars knew. Meredith knew.

Hawke just needed to make certain they didn't know what he was here for.

Slowing his pace and whistling sharply for his dog, Moses doubled back and padded just behind Hawke's legs, nose to the ground here and there, aiming to pick up one scent in particular. One scent that led them further beyond the courtyard and deeper into the Hall. Hawke did his best to make it appear as though he were seeking out the Knight-Commander or the First Enchanter's office but then slipping in the opposite direction, following his dog's nose towards one of the storerooms.

The Gallows hid many secrets and a hidden dungeon was hardly out of the question.]

[magerights]

[Luck was perhaps on Garrett's side in this instance; a pair of templars had descended through the hidden trap door into the secret cells under the floors, leaving the entrance uncovered however briefly.

Of course, Anders was not so appreciative of this luck, really. The templars made it clear as they entered the cell that the Knight-Commander was likely to order he be made Tranquil, a lesson to other mages thinking of taking up the fight and a blow to not only the Mage Underground, but the spirit of a certain influential member of the city as well. After all, a blood mage could do a lot if they could get close to someone in that sort of position, everyone knew.

Anders wasn't certain what turned his stomach more, the idea that he would be made Tranquil more likely than not, or the idea that people would assume him a blood mage and that he'd been puppetting Garrett into loving him. That they'd use it to stop any protests the Champion of Kirkwall would make about the treatment of mages and hurt the man he loved.

In comparison to that, it really wasn't as bad when the templars, clearly having been looking to wind him up and get an opening, laid into him after Anders promised he'd kill them both first. The physical blows could never be as painful as the idea of being used against Hawke like that, and, if he were to meet an end here, Anders would prefer it to be a death at the hands of a couple of irate men than Tranquility being flung in Garrett's face.

And fortunately, one flaw he'd always had, for better or worse, was not knowing when to stop snarking at his templar captors. Words were all he had not, but even with heavy gauntleted blows sending his spinning or driving him to his knees, he knew how to use them well.]

this tl;dr is stupid long I am sorry

[unrelentingly]

[The benefit of having two templars beating a mage in a small cell was that both attackers had their backs towards the gate, leaving them open for a well-timed assault from a skilled rogue - and his dog. It was one of those rare circumstances, that "one in a million" sort of odds - how often would a rogue sneak into the Templar Hall, let alone with a mabari at his side? What was the likelihood of that rogue and that dog even finding the secret cells hidden beneath the storage room?

It was more likely than anyone would have thought, particularly when that rogue was the Champion of Kirkwall and it was his lover that was on the line.

The pair of templars carelessly laid into Anders, slamming their fists against him, throw him to the wall, chains around Anders' neck and wrists shaking and jangling about with each blow. Hawke could hear them speaking, hear their smug tone and laughter behind each word. Anders had ceased speaking at this point - Hawke hadn't caught a word of the healer's snark by the time he made it down towards the holding cells. For all he knew, it was already too late but he wasn't going to give up. Whatever may have happened - he would know soon enough. For now, his only objective was to get Anders out of here alive. Tranquil or not, escape was the top priority.
What happened after that could be dealt with then. When they had made it out of here, together.

Creeping along the wall, Hawke kept his footfalls light and his mabari crouched low to the ground, stepping with as much care as his master. A rogue Champion and his dog, sneaking in to the Templar Hall, finding these secret holding cells beneath the storage room. It was a laughable idea in the eyes of any templar, an impossibility if there ever was one.

Or so they liked to believe. Up until Moses let out a deep bark and lunged.

The powerful mabari tackled one of the men, the animal's weight and strength being enough to send the templar against the wall, helmet clanging against the stone. The rang out loudly and Moses jumped back only to pounce again as the templar tried to rise back up and reorient himself, the dog slamming the man to the floor with his powerful forepaws. Wasting no time, Hawke focused on the second one, butt of one of his daggers cuffing the back of the warrior's helmet. It was enough to send him off balance and a kick in the back sent the man to the ground, a lucky angle making it so he was knocked unconscious. The first one fell as well, both men's bodies stunned and laying limp for the time being.

He couldn't risk bloodshed here. Hawke knew that much.

Moses sniffed at the two bodies, lifting the visors of their helmets with his nose. He'd keep watch for the moment as Hawke stepped towards Anders and crouched down before where his partner was chained, all but suspended from that wall. Hawke's hand came to Anders' cheek, stroking it slowly and swallowing.]

Anders... I'm here.

[He breathed the words softly, hand stilling against his partner's face for a moment before attempting to tilt the man's face towards him. He needed to see if he was all right - if he was still there.]

no I love tl;dr like this you have no idea

[magerights]

[The blows all merged into one another after a while. Anders didn't even have to keep protesting or trying to show resistance at that point, only close his eyes and go as limp as possible, hoping it would be over soon. The heavy manacles and chains meant he couldn't curl in on himself instinctively to protect his torso, but considering how he'd rather have this end here than the fate they'd spoken of... that was possibly a blessing in disguise.

He just wished that the end would come soon.

Then, miraculously, the blows stopped. Or perhaps they'd stopped a little while ago, he wasn't certain. Anders remained limp, trying to get his mind working enough to try and figure out what was happening, if the templars had been caught or had stopped of their own accord. All he heard were a couple of heavy thumps than silence... and footsteps coming towards him. His breath caught and Anders wondered what was going on now, if the templars had been caught and they would treat him, making him Tranquil despite everything, the fear eating at him enough that he flinched when a hand touched his face.

But that voice. That he recognised.

Struggling to open his eyes, one of which was starting to swell shut, Anders blinked up at the hazy face of his love.]

Garrett... [His voice was rough and dry, lips bloodied and aching, though Anders attempted a smile all the same.]

I was wondering if I'd see you again.

/doesn't quite stop whoops

[unrelentingly]

Anders...

[Hawke's brow creased as he looked at the man before him, hand moving from his cheek to gingerly touch the swelling at his eyes. A health poultice alone wasn't going to be able to fix this - and in this state, Anders was scarcely going to be able to cast a proper spell. He shook his head a bit, hand moving down to touch the man's mouth, feeling the blood there, unable to tell if it was coming from his lip or if he'd been spitting it up. If only he'd gotten here sooner - maybe then...]

Do you think you have the strength to stand? [He shifts a bit, letting Anders press what he can of his weight against him. Hawke's hands moved to the cuffs on Anders' wrists, skilled fingers and a small pick working on unlocking them. Complex little things but a click was soon heard, releasing the mage's hands before Hawke pressed a gentle kiss beside Anders' eye, working at the one around his neck.]

Try and lift your head a bit, I can't see where the lock is...

[Content that the two men on the floor would remain that way for a moment longer, Moses let out a small whine and padded closer to his master and Anders, moving to the mage's side to offer a bit more support. Another short whine escaped him, resting his head against Anders' side. The dog licked his own mouth once, dark eyes gazing towards Anders' mouth and the blood that rest there. Hawke stopped his work on the metal collar around his partner's throat, looking at his mabari and then two the two templars on the floor.

His gaze then returned to Anders, jostling him a bit to try and keep him conscious.]

...Phylacteries. They're made with blood, aren't they? How much do they need in order to track you?

/rolls about in it

[magerights]

I think I'll try if it gets me out of here sooner. [His voice was weak still, but there was a faint note of determination to it that said Anders meant what he said. If he had to drag himself to freedom, he would.

He hissed as his hands came loose, the chafing and cuts from the manacles aching anew as the bonds were removed, but it was better to be free now than trying to find comfort with the shackles, waiting for the templars to return and finish him. Swallowing hard, Anders tilted his head up at Garrett's request, breathing shallowly with the new pain it caused but not complaining. The cuff around his neck had left angry red marks as well, parts of the skin torn and bleeding, but neither of them could do anything for his injuries like this. Garrett would only have whatever potions and poultices he'd been carrying when he'd left - not enough, Anders imagined, not for this - and the healer himself was drained, the cell lined with wards to dampen his magic.

Even if he weren't locked away, Anders wasn't certain he'd have the strength to both heal himself and flee, not unless one was linked to the other. He was exhausted, light-headed from the beating, and struggling against the desire to close his eyes and sleep for a little while. Concussion was also quite possible, but he didn't want to worry Garrett anymore than the man already was. It wouldn't help the situation any.

Anders twitched slightly as Moses, Garrett's huge mabari, nudged against him, another hiss of suppressed pain escaping him. It helped focus him a little more, though, so he could lower his head and meet the rogue's concerned gaze.]

It's not just blood, Garrett. [Anders glanced at the unconscious templars and shivered slightly.] They have to take a reasonable amount, a vial or so, and enchant it. It can't just be collected from the ground or something, never mind how they'd even be able to tell it was mine.

[Even saying that much wore him out and he swallowed with difficulty, falling silent again and leaning towards Garrett. Maker, he was tired.]

1, as previously discussed

[trulyfree]

Fenris felt as if he had been caught red-handed. He wondered if Hawke somehow knew—if he had not been careful enough or if Aveline had picked up on what he had been up to and spoken to the Ferelden about it—but he was beyond certain that he had gone through channels that would never find their way back to Hawke. It had to be a coincidence. After all, Hawke lived in Hightown as well, properly even, so there was nothing odd about encountering him in the streets of Hightown. At night. After being attacked by Crimson Weavers. While on his way home from asking for word from his contact. Yes, it had to be a coincidence. A very unfortunate coincidence where he had been caught off guard due to his distracted thoughts on why there had yet to be a reply from his sister and managed to receive a nasty, deep gash to his back that Hawke promptly began fussing over when he had seen it. The Maker's idea of a cruel joke, without a doubt.

The elf did not know what was worse, the fact that Hawke had caught him at this hour outside (when he was usually never out) or the fact that Hawke was hovering over him like a mother hen. Both were quite equally embarrassing. Perhaps that was why there was a twinge of red to Fenris' cheeks. Or maybe he was drunk. Would that make for a valid excuse later? It would have to do since Fenris was humiliated enough by the rest of the details. If he could excuse himself under the pretense that he had gone out after having a few bottles a wine, maybe the facts would be less condemning. Assuming Hawke would even ask why he was out in the first place.

Speaking of which, Hawke's hands were being quite invasive as such was the nature of checking a wound. While the contact no longer bothered Fenris as much as it had used to, the fact that he could not even see what was going on behind him was irritating. That and the fact that Hawke was still fussing and trying to convince Fenris to let the Champion patch him up. Such being the case, he quickly removed himself from where he had stood in front of Hawke and turned to face the man, irritation and pride evident in his tone and features.

"I can deal with it own my own, Hawke. Your concern, while appreciated, is far from necessary." The words were enunciation sharply and spoken quite forcefully, but Fenris was relatively proud of how even he managed to keep the level of his voice. The last thing they needed to do was to start a shouting match in Hightown of all places, especially at night. Aveline would have their hides for the cover up she would need to do as to not arrest them both for causing a disturbance.

Re: 1, as previously discussed

[unrelentingly]

Evidently, Hawke's concern was more than necessary, considering Fenris' state. The wound that was left behind from the gang's assault was deep though the bleeding had begun to stop. It wasn't life-threatening and Hawke could only find himself relieved at that - both for Fenris' sake and more selfishly, his own. A life-threatening injury would have meant he'd be left trying to bring the elf to Darktown and to Anders' clinic. Imagining the struggle Fenris would put up regarding that, it would just make matters all the worse. In this state, he could deal with it. A few bandages, a stitch or two and an elfroot potion and Fenris would be fine.

If he could get Fenris to cooperate.

"This isn't any small scrape, Fenris!" Hawke's voice held a certain force to it as well, the words falling before the Champion realized just how much his voice carried through the streets. He looked around, voice growing quieter, to a more acceptable volume, one hand still grasping at Fenris' tunic. "You're not going to be able to patch this up on your own... Just let me help you, let me clean it and stitch it for you, before you bleed all over Hightown."

[trulyfree]

"It's fine! Leave it be!" Fenris snapped hotly in retort, trying to pull away from Hawke's grasp before pursing his lips and glancing to the side and hoping he was not being too loud. Of course, he had no idea if it was really fine since he could not see it, but it certainly felt fine enough. It was no different from any other simple wound he had ever received based on the pain of it, and blood was not exactly pouring out of it like a stream. Even if it was surprising to him that he had let himself become distracted enough to even receive such a wound after all this time, it likely could not compare to any of the other injuries Fenris had received while still fighting for Danarius, and those he had always tended to on his own. Hawke's attention to it simply just was not needed, even as much as Fenris understood that he liked the fact Hawke had offered.

Forcibly lowering his voice, Fenris' words continued with a faint growl. "I have never needed anyone to tend to my wounds before, Hawke. I assure you that I'm perfectly capable of dealing with this on my own." He was not invalid. He had survived for many years on his own, after all. It was nothing new. "I'll be bleeding all over Hightown anyway regardless of where I go." Not that Hawke's place was not actually closer, but it was not exactly five paces away either. Or so went the reasoning. Really, Fenris did not understand why it simply felt improper to accept. He just knew he did not want to trouble Hawke, and that he much preferred keeping his weaknesses private, injuries included.

[unrelentingly]

Fenris had always been a volatile creature, never one to accept aid unless the situation were truly dire. He knew Fenris could take care of himself, Hawke never doubted it for a moment - but it was in Hawke's nature to care for those he cared for, those he considered his companions. If he were capable of aiding Fenris, he would do so. Just as he expected Fenris to do of him.

He needed to remind Fenris that he could trust him. He needed to remind him that things were different now - drastically so.

Not relenting in his task, Hawke maintained his grip, unmoving and unafraid of the snarling elf. Like an injured dog, he knew Fenris would continue to fight to the very end. It was all a matter of staying calm, letting him growl but showing nothing but kindness.

"Fenris..." he began, voice steady as he looked straight at his friend, meeting his gaze. He needed to phrase himself carefully, phrase this logically. "If I were the one injured... Would you leave me be? Or would you ensure I made it home, free from those who may seek to take advantage of my state?"

apologies for the delay and any future delays; life stuff and whatnot :c

[trulyfree]

"I—" The word left Fenris' mouth impulsively before a proper retort had formed. He knew he was feeling defensive; he only ever made the mistake of blurting something out when he knew he was losing. Still, that did not mean he was just going to give up. "That's not—"

Fair? The same? Fenris' mouth went dry, and his lips pressed into a scowl. He knew it was true; he would do exactly as Hawke had stated regardless of any complaint. He was being a hypocrite. Again. Hawke deserved better than that as his friend. Fenris knew it was not out of pity, and Hawke had never treated him as less than what he was before. Having help for once admittedly could be nice.

Turning away slightly, Fenris let go of the anger. He stopped pulling against Hawke's grip, and his arms fell slack at his sides. "Fair enough." His reply came out more defeated than he had hoped, but it sufficed, and he knew Hawke would be gracious enough not to mock him for it. Hawke was always like that. He simply understood even while the others—save Sebastian—were hard pressed to point out his faults. Champion indeed. A beat passed before he continued, "I will go with you."

It's okay! I'm a bit slow right now too.

[unrelentingly]

Fenris' reluctant consent made this far easier on him, Hawke letting out a short sigh he was scarcely aware he'd been holding. He could at least get his friend home, inspect that wounds in his back and prevent infection - at least he'd feel better being able to do that much for him, even if Fenris would likely insist he needed nothing further after that. At least Hawke knew he could offer something.

He could also offer Fenris his pride. He wasn't going to carry his friend or do anything to support his weight. Fenris was insistent he could handle this, then he could upon his own two legs. Though Hawke found himself lingering near his companion's side, he gestured, inviting Fenris to follow him down the cobblestone streets and towards his Hightown estate. All the while, Hawke's eyes followed each of Fenris' movements, seeking any sign of weakness, any sign that the bleeding was still persisting.

At least it wasn't far to his home.