[Hawke might not envy the Inquisitor her job, but it's impossible not to envy her rooms. They're huge, comfortable, come with very polite people who are happy to climb all the stairs and bring more wine, plus a truly breathtaking view.
Cecily has surprised Hawke, a little. She expected the woman to be formidable; that went without saying, given all she'd accomplished. She'd expected the woman to be admirable and even likable, given that Varric calls her a friend and respects her to boot. She hadn't expected the two of them to get along quite so well, though. Hawke's plan had been to drift into Skyhold, have a quiet, unobtrusive meeting, share what little she knew about Corypheus, and drift back out again before anyone realized who she was and why she was there. She's managed all of it except the leaving part.
It's a hell of a view, though. Good wine, too, and storytelling. They're gossiping about mutual acquaintances, and it's actually...fun.]
You have to be kidding me, Cecily. Schmooples? Secretive, deadly Sister Nightingale, the Left Hand of the Divine, who knows everything and can kill you in fifteen different ways before you realize you're dead, has a pet nug named Schmooples?
[There's no pause before the name, no silent title of Herald or Inquisitor, no awe. Which is perhaps why they're getting along so well. They aren't their titles, not here and now. Just two women who've carried a lot of responsibility on their shoulders and who know how to keep going when the shit hits the ceiling.]
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timeasmymeasure
yessss! Sorry for the delay, weekend of busy awayness. And oh man, something of all three.
Date: 2017-11-21 11:09 am (UTC)Cecily has surprised Hawke, a little. She expected the woman to be formidable; that went without saying, given all she'd accomplished. She'd expected the woman to be admirable and even likable, given that Varric calls her a friend and respects her to boot. She hadn't expected the two of them to get along quite so well, though. Hawke's plan had been to drift into Skyhold, have a quiet, unobtrusive meeting, share what little she knew about Corypheus, and drift back out again before anyone realized who she was and why she was there. She's managed all of it except the leaving part.
It's a hell of a view, though. Good wine, too, and storytelling. They're gossiping about mutual acquaintances, and it's actually...fun.]
You have to be kidding me, Cecily. Schmooples? Secretive, deadly Sister Nightingale, the Left Hand of the Divine, who knows everything and can kill you in fifteen different ways before you realize you're dead, has a pet nug named Schmooples?
[There's no pause before the name, no silent title of Herald or Inquisitor, no awe. Which is perhaps why they're getting along so well. They aren't their titles, not here and now. Just two women who've carried a lot of responsibility on their shoulders and who know how to keep going when the shit hits the ceiling.]