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a dragon age roleplay
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Four years strong, we are a literate to advanced Dragon Age roleplay that focuses on the events post-Trespasser, while also following the timelines of the Warden, Champion and Inquisitor.

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 A DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH, Garrett & Honor | 9:42 Kingsway
played by sugar
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13 Kingsway 9:42




Three weeks spent traveling through muck, disguised as a commoner to hitch rides, unsuspecting, to its grandiose location that Varric had sent in letters to Hawke in the form of a riddle so curious eyes would not be able to find it—one that only Garrett would understand through their shared experiences, and it even gave him some difficulty. Skyhold was an elusive place indeed which had proven quite difficult to actually reach, but it was hardly the castle that concerned Garrett—more its mistress.

The Herald of Andraste. Quite a rich title, in nature, but if the stories about her were true… it would make an awful lot of sense for the woman to have been given powers blessed by the Maker’s wife, since she could manipulate the Fade without even having to think about it—and more importantly, wasn’t even a mage. The things this woman could do, he hadn’t even attempted himself.

His curiosity was a bit more than piqued when he arrived and got through the gates upon explaining who he was. The castle, while under heavy construction, was lavish and nothing like anything he’d ever seen before. Even Redcliffe—or what was left of it—was a far cry from the heights he was climbing until he made it to the top, a curious hazel gaze settled upon two figures: one who could only be Varric and the other, who must have been the Herald from House Trevelyan.

She looked… far less excited to see the Champion of Kirkwall than he would have assumed. It would have been nice to swap war stories and maybe attempt to drink each other under the table… but he didn’t see that kind of connection growing from this. Whatever the stories that existed about the Herald, they certainly didn’t bring her sour expression into account. Making jokes wasn’t going to get him anywhere now… even though he’d had a good one up his sleeve about her glowing hand closing overly large holes. Perhaps on a rainy day, he could use it.

Varric was the one who broke the silence first, perhaps picking up on the awkwardness of Hawke losing his opening line—Hawke always had an opening line—and gestured from Hawke to the Herald. “Garrett, this is Honor. Honor, Garrett. Glad to see that you made it without much difficulty,” Varric eyed him, perhaps thinking better than to ask about the poorly constructed bandage around his left arm.

Garrett followed his gaze and shook his head slightly, as if to say, it’s not worth it. He’d not run into a healer in his time on the road, and he knew better than to try and heal himself—it just wasn’t his cup of tea.

Besides, there was nothing wrong with bearing scars of the past, no matter how recent it was.

Normally, Garrett would have felt a bit imposing with his staff, visible upon sight, to any non-mage, given the circumstances of Thedas at current. However, one glance at her glowing hand in the flesh made him realize that being a mage was hardly his concern. There was something brilliant about it, fascinating—it didn’t glow quite the same as Fenris’ lyrium, but it was certainly an ethereal touch to an otherwise extraordinarily plain human.

He didn’t know what to say at first, so he cleared his throat after it’d been made apparent he had indeed been staring at her hand. ”Sorry. Not something you see every day.” He extended his hand, considering for a moment to switch to his left to make the exchange less awkward in case her hand burned to the touch or something of the sort, but didn’t want to be rude, so he stuck with his dominant. ”The pleasure is all mine, Lady Trevelyan,” Garrett spoke with a forced prowess with noble language that was not his own, but he was out of his element now. There was nothing he could do to better fit in here except attempt to play the part of the wiser, more experienced hero.

… If he could even be called as such.

”I’m sure that you have some questions for me, which I’d be more than happy to answer.” He doubted he needed to specify what those questions would be, moreover; the only topic he’d come to discuss was Corypheus and he’d beaten the risen magister before—or so Garrett had thought. Of course his reappearance to the world had been alarming, but now that he knew Corypheus was the one allegedly behind the Fade rifts and missing Grey Wardens, he hadn’t been able to stay away.

Perhaps it was her hard gaze that made more words tumble out, almost apologetically, ”I’ll find a way to fix this. I promise.”
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Despite Varric's word, she'd been doubting the appearance of Hawke for some time. After all, Cassandra could do just about anything and if she couldn't find the supposed Champion of Kirkwall, then where was he and could he even be found? Not too mention from the stories she'd heard of him, who knew what this Hawke was really capable of. After all, if she believed all the stories, he'd taken down legends single-handedly and yet one mage had collapsed all of Kirkwall down around their shoulders. Shouldn't he have known?

She'd heard the rumors from Ostwick and had thanked her lucky stars and sweet Andraste that the Maker seemed to be shitting on Kirkwall specifically, leaving the rest of the Free Marches alone. Of course that particular joke had come down around her ears now, as she flexed her hand and felt the flare of Andraste's mark. Well, of her mark. The mark. Whatever. Who knew what Andraste really had to do with it, if anything.

From the top of the battlements, she watched the inner workings of Skyhold work on what she knew was Josephine's good judgement, Cullen's honor and Cassandra's faith. What impact she'd had on his place was minimal at best and at worst… well, that'd been what got them to the top of this wretched mountain in the middle of nowhere in the first place. She sighed, ready to ask Varric for the fourteenth time if Hawke was really coming when she saw him.

So that was Garrett Hawke. Huh.

For some reason she'd expected something… different. Bigger or smaller or just different. He just looked like some guy who'd wandered up to Skyhold on accident. She couldn't help looking over to Varric for confirmation, lifting a brow in question. He made introductions and Honor nodded, following his gaze to the mark on her hand.

"Not you, obviously. But I've got to wake up to it every morning," she said sourly. It was supposed to be a joke, but she heard the bite in her voice and decided she didn't so much mind how it came off. If she sounded bitter about being here… well she was.

"Honor," she corrected. He didn’t sound happy to be here, or answer her questions, and she wondered exactly how much pleading Varric had actually done to get him here. And what it might cost her in the future.

She wanted to say something more; now was usually the time she took to tell people she didn't want to be called 'Your Worship' or 'Lady Trevelyan' or even 'Inquisitor' if she didn't have to be. But it didn't seem quite right now. So she shook his hand, fiercely, and then crossed her arms over her chest. All this time she'd had to plan, she'd been so sure he wouldn't actually get here that now she wasn't sure how to wrap up all the thoughts she had into another sentence.

And then, he apologized.

It was like a dam in her burst. She clenched her fist, hand aching, mark flaring. "Well, good. I hope you can figure it out because I sure as hell can't seem to. And maybe if you'd been there when Cassandra came looking for you, well…" She held up her marked hand and gestured frustratedly. Maybe we wouldn't be here. "Fuck. Who knows."

played by sugar
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A dry cough left him as he realized that he’d said the wrong thing. Well, he was new to this sort of thing, after all. Could it truly be held against him? The cold, hard stare of Honor Trevelyan informed him that yes, it could. Her entire presence upon the Skyhold rooftop seemed a bit foreboding, but he’d decline to comment any more on the matter, since it didn’t seem as though it was going to get him in good standing with the woman who had the power of the Maker in her hand. Another glance at it, and he wondered if it would be possible for her to discombobulate him with the green light alone—and he decided he’d enjoy the outcome of finding out.

When Cassandra came looking for you. It stuck out to him like a jagged, protruded edge on a fence-post that one scraped into because they didn’t expect the sudden disruption of flow in their forward motion. He’d gone into hiding, then, because he wanted nothing to do with the Chantry or the remaining Templars that still followed it—most of them had their facts all wrong. He hadn’t been the cause of the Circles falling and everything going to shit, but… he had been a part of it. It was too late to feel guilty about it now; it didn’t matter anymore, at least not to him. He was here, and willing to help. What more could they want? Eyebrows rose somewhat at the suggestion that Garrett would be the one bearing the mark instead of her. Highly unlikely, he thought to himself, as he’d never attend something for the now deceased Divine’s favor.

”Well, I’m certainly glad I wasn’t there,” Garrett responded tersely, equally standoffish. ”Who knows if I’d be able to make proper conversation outside of a monotone, if she had.” The callout was harsh and intended—but Honor needed to know he didn’t altogether respect, let alone trust the people she was working with. Being made tranquil was an ever-present fear, and he was still reluctant to meet with the rest of the group just in case they held the same opinions they had in the past. Sure, Cullen had turned against Meredith in the end, but it’d taken her going batshit for him to even consider it. Once a Templar, always a Templar.

”So,” Garrett spurred the conversation along, weight shifting from one foot to the other—standing on hard, paved ground was different than what he was used to in the past few weeks—”Do you have a… plan? Surely you have a plan of some sort.”

He’d come because Varric had asked, but he had no idea how they were meant to proceed from here. ”I’m willing to lend you my aid however you see fit. Varric told me something about your concern with the missing Wardens? My sister, Bethany, is among their ranks.” His gaze hardened a bit at her mention; the letter informing him that she was meeting her Calling had been enough to stop him dead once again, falling into the same cycle as after the Chantry exploded—until it started happening to all of them, proving something was amiss. ”I could bring you to her if you think that’ll help. I haven’t seen her in years, and she won’t say much in writing, but she’s a part of the resistance.”


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"Guess we'll never know, will we." His meaning was taken well enough. The story she'd heard from Cassandra was that the meeting she wanted with Hawke was meant for one thing, but then again the Divine hadn't quite known all this would happen. While she understood it didn't make her any more capable of shaking off the resentment that'd built in her since Cassandra had found her and this mark had taken its toll. Whatever she'd been before, Hawke had been a Champion and that had to count for something. And now, his apologies meant very little.

Honor cocked her head, her mess of tangled hair getting picked up by the wind. Sighing she shot Varric a look. How long exactly had he been in contact, either again… or still, with Hawke? She didn't want to know the answer but she was sure Cassandra would have a question or two for the dwarf when she found out Hawke was here.

"I have a… part… a small kind of plan. It started with, find Hawke and ask him exactly what he knows about Corypheus. Because our friend here, tells me that you've had some experience and that as far as he knew… Corypheus had been put back inside his hole under Kirkwall." The fingers on her marked hand flexed and she made a fist, mark flaring as she did. Her arms dropped to her side. "But, I happen to know that he's not dead or even sleeping and this--" she held up her hand-- "he'd like to take it from me. I don't think he quite cares if it's still attached to me or not when he does either."

She nodded at him. "Having you to talk to gives me someone else's brain to pick about all of it. I know something's happening with the Wardens and in this story Varric tells, there were Wardens with you in Kirkwall when you fought him before. So… maybe we find them? And they have something else to tell us?"

If Varric had told her before, or if she'd heard about her in stories, Honor didn't remember Hawke having a sister. Hearing that he had a sister in the Wardens, well that seemed like the kind of good news they could use. However estranged their relationship, Honor hoped that such dire circumstances would allow them to put aside their feelings in order to help the Inquisition put Corypheus down for good.

"Do you think your sister might have some information?" She narrowed her gaze at Hawke and gave him an appraising look. "I can only hope that even though you haven't seen her in years, she'll be willing to help her brother… or if not him, then me?" A grin broke out on her face and she winked at him. "When I want to be, I can be very convincing."

played by sugar
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Garrett’s eyes widened inevitably as the woman commanded the piece of the Fade attached to her without even thinking about it—if a simple movement could cause a spark, he wondered how different it would be during a fight. He wanted to know more, to reach out and _touch_ it, but such a rebuttal at such heights from doing so wouldn’t be a favorable outcome. He’d made it this far without dying, so blotting his track record with a crotch kick off of Skyhold wasn’t really in his activity lineup for the day.

And there it was. The iron hammer of judgment struck down. The mention of the name made his heart jump sickeningly, and he became somewhat smaller, if possible in his rather bulky armor, with the guilt that now overshadowed him. ”Yes,” Garrett responded, ”I had a run in with him.” He’d leave it at that; it didn’t seem relevant to bring up that it was Hawke’s blood that had woken up the ancient Magister with an apocalyptic wish for Thedas, really. What was done was done. ”And I thought he was gone.” It really would have been preferable, as he was difficult enough to beat the first time. He’d keep that to himself, too.

Staring at the mark once more at the reference to Corypheus wanting it for himself, Garrett assumed if there was a way to remove it, Honor would have already figured out how to do so, or someone on this team would have.

”I’ve been looking into the Wardens myself. It coincided with some… research I’ve been doing with Red Lyirum.” After the encounter with Meredith, it’d been prudent to know more about the potentials of the red darkness, and how to be able to wield it safely, without being consumed by it. The only thing he’d figured out is that it led to an eventual death, if by someone else or the effects of the lyrium itself. ”I’m sure that my sister wouldn’t say no to an adventure. We’ve not written much in the past few months, but she’s in fairly close with those who’d be most apt to have information. I’ve been long due for a visit. Unless you have… pressing matters to attend to here, I think a representative of the cause would be a smart idea to get them involved. The Wardens don’t get involved with public affairs very often, but if they do… there best be a damned good reason for it.”

He’d blatantly ignored the comment that seemed to lower the veil of Honor’s personal preferences a bit—not that Garrett cared one way or the other, for he’d never been much of a hypocrite. But so long as his sister was involved? He’d screen whoever went near her with impossible severity, and there was no way Honor was getting past him.
There was something almost apathetic about her that made him uneasy, and at the same time… more interested to find the point where she’d start to burn.
played by cherith
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"A run in," she echoed, brows raising. "That's how you'd like to describe your adventures with old witchy socks?" She gave a nod. "Well we know he's not. So… now we move on to figuring out how to put him down again. Maybe even keep him there." He downplayed it and she could almost appreciate that. Whatever notions Hawke had given into about her or the Inquisition when he'd agreed to come to Skyhold, she had to wonder how they'd changed in the last few minutes. He'd come boldly into her home, had joked, apologized and made a point. There was definitely more to him than she'd been expecting. Her bitterness was if not gone, it was fading.

She didn't want to admit it but she thought she understood a little. Why he hadn't come, why he'd avoided the call of the Seekers when Cassandra had gone looking. Maybe even why he'd come back now. Especially if he was still out there… doing some kind of work. Research, he said.

"Red lyrium," she half snarled and rolled her eyes. "Well that's one other thing we have in common then. Seems to be a lot of that fucking stuff going around. As if the blue stuff wasn't ruining enough lives." If they could combine the efforts, more was the better. She wasn't really looking forward to dealing with the Wardens any more than she had to. Blackwall aside, most of the ones she'd come across seemed … off. Not that she had a lot of history to go on, but for a group of people that considered themselves protectors of Thedas, they certainly weren't throwing themselves on her doorstep.

"I hope that's true," she said. "We don't have many Wardens here, and a few others in contact. But it's not enough to go on, not yet. So, if your sister, Bethany, is at all willing to throw her lot in with us even temporarily, I'd welcome another." His words seemed to echo her own thoughts. Maybe that was a good thing. Or at least it felt promising. She needed Hawke on her page as they moved forward. Much as she hated the whole titled leader thing, she knew people looked to her for direction. And she wasn't exactly looking up to Hawke, but he did have experience being a leader. A Champion, even.

Alright. She nodded, smiling slightly at Hawke. "Okay. We get us a Warden. Hopefully they can give us some information on Corypheus, and we figure out how to make what they've got work for us. If we're lucky they've been collecting data on the red lyrium as well. It'd be nice to know what to do about that when we run across it. Or those affected by it."

Her head hurt already, but it was a good kind of pressure. It wasn't much, but she liked having a plan to move on. She'd have to talk to Cassandra, Cullen and Leliana, but they'd figure that out. Honor licked her lips and gestured at Hawke. "We should… I'm sorry I doubt we'll have time for you to get settled here, but we'll-- Oh, Josephine would kill me for not having offered you something yet. So… you drink? You want to get a drink? We've got a tavern. I've… got a tavern?" Whatever. He'd get it. She nodded down at the courtyard and the sign sticking out above the Herald's Rest.

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She didn’t look so bad when she smiled, Hawke gathered after her expression changed. Perhaps there were worse ways to spend a few weeks. Her attitude was starting to grow on him as well—the fact that she seemed to disregard just about everything with an air of disgusted humor was slightly endearing. He couldn’t help but feel as though Varric had noticed he’d become a blatant third wheel to the conversation, because he had suddenly become very interested in looking off the far side of the wall, out past Skyhold.

”Mm.” Garrett agreed noncommittally in regards to lyrium. He didn’t even want to think about the state his brother was in now, with the Circles fallen and no more reason for the Templars to be banded together—and no more reason to be a slave to the lyrium that they drank for… the Maker’s approval, or something along those lines. It’d remain a mystery to him, but he’d never tried too hard to get in with the Chantry. The stuff was a curse to non-mages. ”Sometimes, people just don’t know when it’s best to keep their hands to themselves.” He tapped the flask of lyrium that rested on his belt with a small smile in return.

”If there’s a way to mass destroy it, that’d be our best option.” It was hard to forget what had happened to the two people he’d known who had prolonged contact with the twisted form of lyrium, and if he was hearing the rumors across Ferelden correctly, there were even more of them amongst the Templar ranks using it. His fingers curled around his staff a bit tighter at the thought of who.

Garrett’s smile grew into one that was full-fledged, teeth reflecting his amusement at Honor’s fumble to have proper social etiquette. It was clear to him now that she had no business being in a position of leadership, which made it all the better. It meant she would have a malleable heart and mind to listen to reason, thankfully, because of Garrett’s problem with authority. ”Ooooh,” his eyebrows raised at the inclination towards the tavern Honor had just claimed was hers, ”Fancy.” A pause, and then he glanced back to Varric. ”Tell you what. I’ll meet you there. Why don’t you update your… Inquisition with our plans and if you’re quick enough, I might not have cleared out your kegs.” He nodded to Varric in a way that was supposed to mean, I’ll catch up with you more later, and then took his leave from the roof back down the stairs. This place really was something. His hand grazed the stone railing on his way down the steps into the courtyard. The bustle inside of it seemed like a full-functioning town. It was strange to be in a place like this, since he’d been here and there for going on two years, thanks to the Seeker woman who he had yet to speak to—and hopefully wouldn’t have to.

Thinking of her just reminded him of all that he’d left behind, and now he wasn’t at all against the idea of spending the rest of the night in the Herald’s Rest. At least he could stint the mechanics of his mind replaying the past with a few pints of ale, and return to the happy medium of a new life-threatening adventure to add to his belt.

There was a group already inside that eyed him somewhat curiously as he entered, but he didn’t feel the need to touch his staff. Whether they recognized him or not, surely no one was allowed inside who wasn’t a friend of the Inquisitor. They reminded him of his old companions, the way they seemed to have three different conversations at once, and one hit another in a playful manner, and the whole table erupted into laughter. Garrett smiled weakly, turning his attention to the mug that’d been pushed in front of him.

Things would never be the same, he realized as he took his first gulp. He wasn’t the same man he was when he’d arrived in Kirkwall over ten years ago. Trying to find that again would be impossible. He couldn’t make the Inquisition a home, not when he’d willingly left the one he had.

I’m sorry. Another drink, and that was the last he’d think about Kirkwall that evening.
a

played by cherith
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As she watched Hawke make his way back down the tower, Honor let out a long breath, hands going to her hips. She stared after him for a few moments longer than she needed to, painfully aware that Varric was watching her in return. She'd let her mouth get the better of her and she knew it. Things seemed to have ended well enough, she'd meet Hawke in the Herald's Rest and they'd talk more. Later, she'd try to feel more like she was in charge of something she knew how to lead.

"Don't--" she said, without glancing down at Varric. She turned around and leaned against the tower crenelations. "I know that could've gone better. I just…"

"Hey, at least he's staying. Drinks will be good for you two, I think." Varric said with a smile. "And if that fails… it'll be because something's wrong with the ale at the Rest."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He waved off the question and shook his head, making his way towards the stairs. "Just, maybe don't talk about his sister anymore, huh?" He said, disappearing around the first bend in the stairs down the wall.

Alright, so maybe that had been a bit much.

Honor didn't bother watching Varric or follow after him, she didn't need to take the long way around anyhow. Not if she was going to talk to the others and make sure this move forward with Hawke was going to go the right way. Honor hopped across a gap in the stone roof where construction still hadn't picked up and made her way across a fallen half-wall to the next set of stairs. Cullen's office was just across the path and she'd stop there first before looking for the others. After all, the Commander had known Hawke back in Kirkwall. Maybe not as well, but if the stories about what happened were true, then maybe it meant more than Cullen spoke well of the mage.

By the time Honor made her way into the Herald's Rest, more than an hour had past, the sun was getting low and she was starving. Messages were going out all over Skyhold to gather supplies and get things ready for another mission. She was sure by the time they left for the Wardens, five other tasks would be added to take care of on the way there or back in addition. Nothing around here was ever simple. A messenger even came into the tavern with her, making arrangements for who knew what really. It could've been from anyone for anyone and Honor had stopped asking about details from her advisors unless it really, really mattered.

It was pretty easy to find him, it wasn't like he'd gotten very far into the place before he'd found a table. Honor half expected to find him buried deep in some conversation with the Chargers, or making eyes at their musician, something charming and animated -- at least from the stories Varric had told her about the way they used to carry on. Of course the man she'd met on the tower seemed a little more subdued, clever and something that approximated friendly but she wasn't sure what of that had been on show for her.

She gathered a drink and ordered some food for herself at the bar and carried her mug over to the table, sitting down across from Hawke.

"I'm guessing it'll take me a while to catch up," she said with a nod at his mug. "You eat yet? After all that talking, I'm starving. Ordered something for myself, we can double that if you haven't."


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Time passed in an irrelevant sort of way—for once, he didn’t feel like he was running from something. Didn’t have to keep his guard up for rogue Templars or mages or—anything, really. That said, there was truly nothing left to do than to get absolutely shit-faced at the revelation. He hadn’t thought it’d been that bad, really, but when he heard Honor’s voice and shifted his eyes to look at her, there were two of her. And then one and a half, and then just a lot of blurring—and that green light from her hand. It was distracting, and didn’t seem to help his ability to focus. Garrett tore his eyes away from that illuminated mark, and faintly wondered how she managed to sleep at night. Maybe it had a special sort of blanket or… wouldn’t her hand sweat from that?

”Yeah,” He replied rather blankly, shaking his head a moment later. ”I’mean, no.” Something in his stomach to attempt to soak up the amount of slosh in his gut would have been somewhat helpful. He wanted to make a comment about how she had to order at all, seeing as this place was called the Herald’s Rest. Clearly, she hadn’t learned exactly what authority meant yet. Or just didn’t give a damn. ”Go for it. Thanks.” He probably couldn’t have sounded more stupid at that point, but he was far from being concerned about that. They were going to have a big day tomorrow, and the day after that… and the day after that. After tonight, his guard would have to be up again.

After all, what dangers lurked inside a stronghold fortress such as this? None that he could think of. Maybe it was too late to just suggest they stay put and wait this Corypheus thing out. Wishful thinking, if only for a moment.

Garrett waited a moment for Honor to remedy the apparent food order, averting his eyes back to the table of laughing Chargers, most of whom were significantly more red-faced than he. A pause, and then he looked at Honor again. She was no less blurry, but the green light was grounding, in a way.

”Do you have family, Honor—a brother? Sister?” He glanced down into the bottom of his mug and made a face, then rose it for one of the workers behind the bar to see. Setting it aside for a moment, he shifted on the wooden stool underneath the table.
”I just… wanted you to be aware that I almost lost mine… twice, and it’s something I never want to go through a repeat of.” Sure, almost wasn’t dead but she very well could have been. Third time’s’ the charm.

Or in this case, the drop of the guillotine across Bethany Hawke’s neck.

”I don’t trust anyone more than her to have the information that we need.” If anyone would be able to fight Corypheus’ influence and still have insider information, being a mage, it would be her. ”But if it comes down to it? You need to know that I’m going to save her life before anything else—anything else. Before any mission or any other threat. If that’s going to be a deal breaker for you...” Garrett gestured back towards the bar, the smell of food over flames catching his attention, ”…at the very least, have a couple of drinks and maybe try to burn me with that thing?” A small nod towards the overly distracting anchor. The fascination with it he couldn’t really explain—perhaps the intrigue of the unknown. ”Or whatever else it… does.” The phrase had sounded much more appealing in his head.

played by cherith
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It only took a look towards the bar and a gesture to double the order she'd made before coming to the table. She didn't take many advantages here, not when they had actual business to conduct daily that had nothing to do with her directly. But she knew when they were watching, and it did make ordering nice when she needed the edge.

A couple of swigs from her mug later and she felt a little more of the weight of the day slough off her shoulders, though having the Champion of Kirkwall across the table from her meant it wasn't going away entirely. Although, perhaps she'd left him alone a little longer than she should've. His face was paler than it'd been before, maybe even a little green and not just from the nearby glow of her hand. The way he stared at it though…

Honor tucked her hand under thigh on the bench beneath her to blot out most of the light.

"I do. Two brothers." His tone was solemn and she met his gaze with the gravity he seemed to give the conversation. Normally she'd brush off talking about her family, she didn't need to remember what she'd missed by getting wrapped up in the Inquisition. But she added a little, because it seemed worth giving.

"I'm the youngest. Cyrus, our middle brother was sent to the circle in Ostwick when I was still pretty young. The oldest, Garreth, he took over… when my dad passed." She frowned. "I don't know what it's like to have siblings so close in age, or to spend so much time with them. I'm sorry you've had to go through that with them."

She knew what it was like to lose people, more these days than ever. But as Garrett continued she understood what he meant. More, she could sense where his darker mood had come from and why he felt it important to let her know. Many people she'd meant in recent months wouldn't have been so up front with their motivations. It was a candor she appreciated.

"Not a deal breaker, no. I may not be close with my siblings, but I know what it's like to fight for the people close to you. I do that maybe more than I should." A grin to break the mood.

Their food was making it's way over from the bar and she leaned back, scooting her mug to once side to make room. Garrett's mug was refilled and a heaping bowl of thick stew and thick cuts of bread were set before them. Honor leaned over the bowl and took a whiff of the stew, eyes closing slightly as she breathed in. It might not look like much, but it smelled amazing especially on an empty stomach.

"Dinner, drinks and I'm sure they'll be plenty of opportunity for party tricks," she said grinning as she brought her fade-touched hand up in view. She grabbed the bread and tore off a large hunk, dipping it the stew. "If not tonight, then in the days to come." Fighting the urge to wink, she just let her smile linger and waggled her fingers. "I promise."
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GMage
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A--
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Garrett didn’t put much stock into his fame on a regular day—although at that moment, he wished that he had spent some of his well-earned sovereigns on a scribe to follow along at his heels whenever Garrett required it—just so the boy could write down this conversation so he could reference it for later. There was no way half of this information was going to stick; he was already having trouble focusing on just one thing, let alone the Inquisitor’s backstory.

He forced his eyes back up to hers when the hand disappeared from view. It was a very clear, yet subtle cut it out. He was probably no better than anyone else in her party or community—always wanting to catch a glimpse and see for themselves. He didn’t feel bad about lumping himself in with everyone else: if anything, this mark would be able to enhance Honor’s day to day life, not hinder it. Though it was easier said than done, he supposed, since he didn’t have the burden himself. As she’d so mentioned, he might have, if he’d been there when he was supposed to be.

A nod was all he could manage, and he was grateful that part was out of the way. He’d touch on the family aspect later—it’d always been important to him, but he knew that it wasn’t the same for everyone—still. People of the same blood had their reasons for breaking apart. Garrett knew that perhaps better than anyone.


The moment was broken by both the sudden smell of and sight of the food that Honor had gotten for herself and Garrett. Good thing, too, because he hadn’t spilled his guts in front of a girl in a long time and he didn’t want to break that record. He waited for her to take a chunk of the bread before he followed suit, and dipped it as she had. He didn’t even care how much it burned the roof of his mouth when he took a bite off of the stew-covered bread. One swallow and though it sat uneasily in his esophagus for a moment, he felt better after a few beats, so kept eating. He left the mug of alcohol alone—he’d had too much time alone and had taken advantage of that, for better or for worse. It was all he did most nights, ever since he’d left Kirkwall. Perhaps this would be a needed change, and he couldn’t help the muffled laughter from a full mouth when Honor changed her tune to play along.

”Not tonight. I don’t think I’d be much fun…” and it wasn’t just the alcohol gluttony, or he’d have found a healer for that. This… Skyhold, his missed calling—it was all a bit overwhelming and the only thing he could do was to look for ways to atone for his mistakes, hiding from the Seeker—since he’d wound up helping the same cause anyway. Granted, Pentaghast may have flayed him alive had she found him back then.
But what had all of that gotten him? Nothing. A few years, give or take, of traveling alone the majority of the time, staggered letters that just eventually stopped coming. Absolutely nothing.

”I’m going to hold you to that,” Garrett responded once he’d swallowed, and met her slightly darker gaze with reassuring smile. It was almost strange to find someone he might be able to consider a friend—as it had been so long since he’d bothered to even try to make a connection with anyone.

Garrett turned the bread around to face the unbit end towards honor, as a mock toast, since he still wasn’t going to touch that mug. ”To safe travels to come, and Corypheus’ head on a stick.”
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Things had taken quite the turn in the time she'd been off dealing with matters in the keep. The charming Champion had given way to an inebriated shadow of himself. Heavy matters weighed behind those eyes. She could see it as he met her gaze. Where she'd been eager to offset the tone she'd taken when he'd first arrived, he'd tipped the balance back without her. Now she was better in her element and the awkward first encounter was over, it seemed as though Garrett had found his own struggles at the bottom of that mug.

She nodded. "Suit yourself. Plenty of time when we're on the road, I'm sure. There's got to be at least one rift between here and there anyway." Her smile softened and she lowered her head and took a few more bites of her meal while he got some food in him too.

"I hope you do." She did wink then. Because she meant it, and maybe because she hoped it might pull him loose a little. "It's not all rifts and demons around here, after all. Some of us still need to have a good time."

Varric had told her stories of Kirkwall and she'd heard others on her own from other Free Marchers. The Champion had a reputation for a few things, not just saving a city he later abandoned. She'd seen a bit of that earlier she thought, the way he'd come in all swagger and jokes. Something in him reminded her a bit of herself, offsetting the serious situation with a few well-placed jokes. And a smile--

She'd liked that smile. Well, she'd not realized it until it was later -- now, and it was gone for the night. Lesson learned, Honor, don't leave the Champion to drink alone. He gets melancholy.

He lifted a piece of bread towards her and she raised a brow, but understood the intention as he spoke. She chuckled. It was good to see she wasn't completely alone here… he wasn't all gone to regret and penance for the evening.

"Your words to the Maker's ears, Champion. To Corypheus' head on a stick." She tipped a new chunk of bread against his. "And new friends," she added quickly before lifting the bite to her mouth.

"Mop up that ale of yours with the rest of this meal and I'll take you for a bit of fresh air. I think you've been cooped up alone in here too long. I can show you all the best bits of Skyhold by lantern light before it's time to turn in." She smiled and nodded towards the food, tucking into another bite herself. "Best not to turn in completely full on ale anyhow. As I'm sure you're aware."
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