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Posted: Apr 23 2018, 12:40 PM
It had been a long time since he had fought like this. Not since Kirkwall. Back pressed up against a wall — staring death in the face: that was the sort of fighting that made his heart race and his blood pump. Being out here in the Deep Roads with Braids and her crew it was…well, it rivaled the time he had been down here with Hawke. It brought up a side of him that he had almost forgotten about. Varric wasn’t just flowery words and innuendos. There was power in his small body — power that could topple a man. Or kill his own brother.
His eyes lifted as Bartrand crossed his mind. The memories were even more potent down here. He remembered seeing him for the last time before he shut the damn door on the rest of them. Bastard. He deserved to die. At least, that was what Varric told himself when the going got tough.
Sitting nearby the small fire, he pinched the bridge of his broken nose.
One of the men nearby lifted his hand as if he were about to say something — or offer Varric an imaginary mug of ale — but Varric shook his head and stood, instead, picking up Bianca as he did.
He remembered picking up his crossbow alongside Hawke, counting up kills, laughing away what they had done over drinks at the Hanged Man.
Varric remembered a lot of things.
He recalled that a lot of them ended in bruised knuckles and laughter.
Hawke was his best friend. They’d grown so close in Kirkwall and sometimes, it felt like Sparrow was the only thing that kept him sane. But Hawke wasn’t here.
How the hell was he going to get out of this one? How was he going to get them back to the future when he had nothing to go on? These were the days Varric wished that dwarves could actually dream — maybe his nightmares would have a solution.
“I’m gonna go for a walk,” he said to the few that stirred at his movement. The dwarf moved towards one of the passageways nearby. He wouldn’t go far — just far enough so he could clear his head. Maker, he was so sick of listening to that bloke next to him snoring.
Maybe he would catch a few Darkspawn off guard, shoot a few bolts into their brains and send them straight back to the hell where they came from. He’d stopped counting how many they’d seen — that was always something he’d done with…Hawke.
There wouldn’t be a great family reunion. In fact, Varric was growing increasingly convinced that Carver was dead too — maybe Andres. Maybe he was next…Varric wasn’t sure.
As he darted across the passageway and turned a corner, he found himself staring at a dark figure. In the Deep Roads, there wasn’t enough light to make whoever it was out and Varric raised Bianca, finger on the trigger.
Posted: Apr 23 2018, 06:42 PM
"The deeproads? Couldn't you have brought me, oh I don't know, anywhere else?!" Sparrow asked out loud to no one in particular. Maybe because there was no one here! The mage kicked a rock, sending it flying into the opposite wall with a loud clatter. Maybe he was a bit cranky right now. His beard had grown twice the length it had been when he entered the Fade, and his scalp was itchy from weeks of not bathing. He felt gross, he smelled like the ass of a bronto, and he was lost in the god damned deeproads.
"The only damn thing Anders was useful for and I hate that I even said that." Sparrow huffed out a breath, glaring at another rock on the ground. He probably shouldn't kick that one. He'd made far too much noise as it was. Rubbing his palm against his nose, he huffed angrily once more before he started forward. He would have prefered to be literally anywhere but here, even Orlais would have been a better place.
"Just remember, if I die, you do too," he hissed under his breath, and he could have sworn that he heard a chuckle in response. Maker's Balls, he hadn't expected to get a reaction. Now that he had, he felt the hair prick on the back of his neck. His skin crawled as if he could almost feel the demon's claws against him. Was this what Anders felt? No wonder the bastard had lost his mind.
The tunnels twisted and winded back on each other and he was pretty damn certain that he was running in circles. Why couldn't he have been born a dwarf? That would have made things so much easier. Just sense his way out of these god damned tunnels. Instead, no, he was stuck being a fucking human. "But hey, at least I can fling fireballs around, because that will be handy right now."
Sparrow couldn't even remember how long he'd been lost inside the deeproads. Was it hours or weeks? He couldn't tell because there wasn't any fucking sun! Either way, he was getting tired. He'd been stuck in the Fade for only the Maker knows how long, only to be spat out into Shitsville. He wanted a nap, a nice bath, and maybe a warm meal--although honestly, it didn't even have to be warm, just a meal would be nice.
The tunnel seemed to be coming to an end, branching to the left, and Sparrow sighed. It better lead to a damn dwarven city soon, or he was going to riot. The sound of pebbles being disturbed caused him to pull up short, and he narrowed his eyes as the shadow that begun to grow on the wall in front of him. The owner of said shadow came into sight finally, and he narrowed his eyes slightly.
"You're either a dwarf or a darkspawn, and with the time I've had you better be a dwarf or I swear I'm quitting life and returning to the god damned Fade."
Posted: Apr 24 2018, 08:09 AM
There was a stand-off for a few seconds. Varric didn’t pull the trigger because he couldn’t be quite sure what he was seeing. From his vantage point, whoever it was looked a human… but there were a lot of things it could have been. Curse his bleeding heart — hadn’t he learned to shoot first and ask questions later? Human or not, it would be more inclined to answer questions if there was a crossbow bolt sticking out of its shoulder.
If it had been a darkspawn, it would’ve gotten the better of Varric, he imagined. Just standing there with his hand on the trigger of Bianca, ready to pull but…waiting. What was he waiting for?
And then the shadow spoke.
Varric didn’t answer at first. There was a part of him — a large part of him — that was entirely stunned by the voice that belonged to the shadow. It sounded a hell of a lot like one Sparrow Hawke. Crass, blunt, and downright ___, Hawke had always been less eloquent in person than he was in Varric’s books, but hey…that was the nature of novels, wasn’t it?
Relief seemed to flood through his veins, followed by a very real sense of panic. Maybe he was going crazy. The odds of running into Hawke here, in the middle of the sodding Deep Roads was slim to none. And yet, the voice distinctly belonged to his best friend.
“Dwarf,” He answered. Surface Dwarf, if we’re doing technicalities. Surface dwarf who’s sick and tired of being down here. Varric didn’t sheath Bianca, instead, he held tighter onto the crossbow, still trying to figure out if he was dreaming or if this was reality. The dwarf took a few steps forward, cautious at first, but slow enough to not raise alarm. “And you are…”
Now he was close enough to make out familiar features although they were shrouded in some god awful beard. Hawke had really let himself go, Varric thought smugly. “Well slap my ass and call me the Viscount of Kirkwall,” He breathed into the dusty air between them. “Sparrow fucking Hawke.”
Varric wasn’t sure if he should hug the man or shoot him in the foot. He smelled...bad. Maybe he was hiding a dead nug in that new beard of his. “What's your sodding ass doing down here?”
He needed to stop having reunions here — the Deep Roads were getting old.