bakerstreet | Baby, you’re perfect

You've not need to disguise your abilities with me, sweet lady. As you've seen, I'm the very definition of 'apostate'. [ He snorts a bit wryly. ] The only reason I've not been thrown into the Gallows with the other mages is the amount of coin at my disposal.

[ Bribes, kennit? And the fact that he's more than willing to barbecue anyone who might dare. ]

[ A rueful smile tugs at her pink lips. There's shadows in her eyes that speak of the terrible things she'd seen and experienced as a Grisha. ]

That being said, I'm not so sure you would appreciate my demonstration. You may feel it as a sort of violation.

[ He's intuitive enough to sense her hesitation. And while he'd have her trust him - to say nothing of his burning curiosity - he's not going to insist. That's not how it works.

Instead, he simply smiles at her and very softly touches her cheek with calloused fingertips. Reassurance. ]

Perhaps, but I'm made of stern stuff, sweet lady. Nevertheless, if you don't want to share, I won't insist.

[ His touch is featherlight and so full of tenderness. It makes her smile appreciatively. A kind touch isn't always easy to find outside of Ravka. Or even simply the Little Palace. She steps in closer to him, stepping upon tiptoes to reach his ears for a whisper. ]

Will you look at me differently if I tell you that I can steal the breath from your lungs? Or render your heartbeat faster or slower or not at all? [ She can heal his hurts too. She can flood his body with the chemicals needed to make him more susceptible to suggestion, serotonin, oxytocin and the like. ]

[ Hawke obligingly lowers his head so she can whisper at his ear, and, hearing her words, his mind instantly shrieks blood mage. But logic caught up quickly; she is no Tevinter magister (as far as he can tell and Varric's inquiries report), and if she wanted to do all of what she said to him, she's had plenty of opportunities to do so before now. And if she is truly an assassin, why is she telling him all of this now?

But to answer her question... He lifts his head, cocks an eyebrow down at her. ]

--perhaps. But not with any fear or disgust [ which she probably expects, all told ] just a healthy dose of respect. [ Annnnd, a touch of logical wariness, too. ]

As well as a standing entreaty that if you ever do decide to do any of that to me, to please warn me first?

[ She sees the wariness in his eyes. It's understandable. If she'd been an Etherealki then perhaps it would be less daunting, but her ability affects a person so intimately that there's always a healthy dose of fear with it. ]

Then give me no reason to do so.

[ She's teasing, but she's a little concerned it might fall flat. ]

That's a terrible joke, apologies.

[ It does, because that's far too close to a threat, and he's never really responded well to those. However, Hawke bites his tongue on any sharp remonstrance; he knows all too well the reaction of others to those with power.

But he's still terribly curious, thus the query: ]

...is this something all Grisha can do?

Only those of a certain order, the one that can manipulate the body. There are others than can manipulate the elements or composite materials.

[ She's still watching him carefully for her safety as she divulges these secrets. She's surprised that he's never heard of Grisha. Are there really lands where people don't know of them? ]

So...like mages, these Grisha have talents in different areas.

[ Hawke taps his chin lightly, brow furrowing as he puts it together. Sounds awfully like Grisha = mage in his vocabulary, given what he's learned so far. ]

What else can your Grisha do? With their..."small science", as you call it?

Mostly serve in the Second Army for Ravka. We serve our Tsar.

[ She says it with a beatific smile though there's a slight sharpness to it. The Grisha live under the boot of the Tsar as second class citizens. They fight his wars simply for the privilege of existing in Ravka. Her charisma and talent for languages has allowed her to be more than a soldier. ]

[ His eyebrows go up at that. Mages? Serving as soldiers? He'd never heard of such. ]

--truly? Mages--I mean, Grisha, serving as soldiers? That's...that's unheard of. Is that not a dangerous situation? All of those "small science" users together in one place, without anyone to monitor their abilities?

[ Pause. ]

Wait. Does anyone monitor your abilities? Keep you free from demonic possession and all that?

[ Now it's her turn for her brows to furrow. Her expression becomes less guarded in her confusion. She tilts her head as she gazes up at him. ]

Demonic possession? [ She barks out a laugh. ] Saints, no. I told you, it's not magic. It's the Small Science. We draw from the world around us. We're touched by the Making. There's no spirits or demons or anything like that.

[ It's ironic how similar they are, yet completely different. ]

So where do you go when you dream? Do you travel the Fade?

[ Is the "Making" anything like the Maker. This is quickly becoming confusing. ]

I dream dreams like anyone else. What's the Fade?

[ Now he's piqued her curiosity. There's so many differences between them. It's fascinating. She's learning so much. ]

The Fade is the world between ours and the next, where spirits exist and demons prowl. All roam the Fade when they sleep, but only mages, or those with magic, have a primal connection to the Fade realm and are able to shape it to their will, consciously or otherwise.

Very, very seldom can anyone enter the Fade physically, but it is possible. [ Another pause. ] --and unpleasant. [ He'd know. ]

The Chantry teaches that it's also the site of the Black City, where the Maker's Golden Throne resides. No one knows if that's true or not, since no mortal has ever glimpsed it.

[ Hawke pauses again, absently rubbing the back of his neck. ] Trying to explain it further would take a lifetime, and even then I'm not sure it would make that much sense. I'd offer to take you there, to see for yourself, but...it's a hellaciously arduous journey and not one I'm all that willing to repeat.

How very different we are, yet so similar. I'd not ask you to go into any trouble on my behalf though I'm utterly fascinated.

[ She's happy to listen to whatever he wishes to tell her. She's shared with him, but he's also sharing with her in return. ]

I've never known of spirits or demons. We do not have them in Ravka. Or speak of them at least.

Not at all? You're fortunate indeed. Mages are beacons for demons - they crave physical form and a mage is perfect fodder. If the mage's will is weak, he can be possessed by a spirit and then used for that spirit's whim, be it good or evil.

[ His expression goes grim for a moment. ]

Which is why we have Templars, knights trained in the extermination of such abomination. They are taught how to disable magic, and how to sever a demon's hold over a mage. And there is only one way to do that.

Ah, I see.

[ Grisha are no demons or magic, but she understands the threat of death all the same. She's brushed close to it a few times herself. Drüskelle and the Shu, all wanting to to get their hands on her just because of what she's born as. ]

You are a Mage then? Can anyone become a Mage?

It runs in the bloodline. One is either born with it or without it. Talent surfaces usually at a young age, between seven and ten years. And one so young with that sort of power is a danger to himself and others, and not only because of the draw of the Fade.

[ Hawke holds out a hand, palm-down, and focuses on the ground beneath their feet. It slowly began to rumble, pebbles rattling with the force of the mage's powerful will. He closes his fist after a moment, and exhales a breath. The earth settles, once again becoming still. ]

Magic runs in both sides of my family. My father was a mage, as was my younger sister. My mother had no magical ability, nor did my younger brother, but any children he might have sired had a great possibility of becoming a mage.

So very much like Grisha then.

[ She feels and watches as he manipulates the earth, but different in the way a Durast would. She reaches out and takes his hand and opens it palm up. Her fingers trace along the lines she finds. ]

Grisha are the same way. It runs in the blood, but it skips without reasons. You can have two otkazat'sya parents who have a Grisha child.

[ His hand is just a hand: large, roughened, and overly warm (he runs hot due to the elemental magic in his blood), but he watches her fingers gently move over his skin, quietly curious. ]

Grisha and mages do indeed seem very similar. But what are...oty-kaza...whatever that word was that you just said?

[ No way in all hells was he ever going to be able to pronounce that one. ]

Otkazat'sya. [ She says the word slowly for him to catch on. ] Non-Grisha.

[ His hand is marvelously warm. She'd noticed it whenever he brushed his fingers along her cheek. She can feel and sense the beat of his heart. It's strong, constant. ]

[ He tries, more than once, but there's no way he can twist his tongue around to make those syllables. So Hawke gives up with a low laugh, shrugging his defeat. ]

"Non-Grisha" will have to do.

[ She's still stroking his hand, and his gaze flicks from his palm back to her eyes with a questioning look. ]

...are you all right?

[ It's concern; he understands how sharing a burden can be. The weight lifting for a few brief moments before settling back again. ]

[ Laughter rings out at his clumsy attempt. Ravkan is unkind to his tongue. She's heard other people struggle with it during her travels. The Shu and Fjerdans especially.

She glances up at him at his question. Nina offers a smile. They're kore genuine with him. She doesn't need to mask who she is and adopt another persona for a mission right now. ]

It's nice to find someone who understands when I'm so far away from home.

[ Thankfully he can still make her laugh. A good sign. Hawke turns his hand over to thread his fingers with hers, returning her smile. ]

It truly is. And I do, promise.

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