It's strange to be back in Ferelden. Hawke's been here a few weeks and still hasn't quite gotten used to it. The constant presence of mud and dogs everywhere had caught her by surprise. It was one thing to half-remember it, another to be so used to all the jokes about Fereldens and their dogs that you take them for granted, and still another to actually see it all and remember first hand.
All the smells are different. The food is different. She's learned not to react when people look at her wide-eyed. The first few times had made her nervous, surreptitiously adjusting her stance so she could move into action if needed--but it was never out of recognition of her, not what she feared. She wears unostentatious armor, her long knives sheathed on her back. Just another sell-sword (sell-dagger, whatever) in a city crawling with them. It's not her that draws attention, but Teo. He isn't just a bloody huge Ferelden dog here, he's a mabari and recognized as such, and that automatically grants him--and his person--respect. It makes her less anonymous and more anonymous at the same time.
Anonymous is the goal. She's searching for answers to questions, niggling unfinished things that feel like they could be trouble. And she's traveling to draw attention away from Kirkwall and the ones she loves who are still there. Bethany refused to leave, chose to stay and help the now-apostate mages there; Aveline, of course, couldn't be pried out of the city with a crowbar. Varric had left for a time but had to go back.
Hawke's never been on her own for this long before, not in her whole life. She doesn't really care for it.
Teo bumps his head against her leg, sensing her moods as always, and she smiles fondly and scratches behind his ears. "I know, old boy," she says quietly, the words lost in the general racket of the crowds. Teo gives her a reproachful glance. No woolgathering or being maudlin today. They're on dangerous ground. This is the largest city they've been in since she left Kirkwall, the most eyes, the ones most likely to have heard descriptions of the missing Champion of Kirkwall.
At least one person here will know very well who she is. Hawke didn't describe herself, just in case; she described Teo instead, brought kaddis to use for decorating him with, a precaution as well as an identifying marker. At least one person will be actively watching for her.
Sairey Amell. The cousin Hawke has never met, but heard of. Sairey is overshadowed by the Hero of Ferelden's greater presence and legened, but she's part of the stories. Sairey, who might have answers.
Sairey, who's in the middle of frikking Amaranthine, during one of the biggest Chantry celebrations there is.
Hawke knows this is a stupid, risky plan. It's just that she's so used to stupid, risky plans.
Sairey isn't hard to find, right where she said she would be. The red hair stands out in the sun. What surprises Hawke is how familiar she looks. The bones in her face are Amell bones, the line of the jaw, her eyebrows, the way she stands. It's not an uncanny resemblance, but it's there. All the other things Sairey planned as identification marks are entirely superfluous.
For one moment Hawke just stands and stares. Then she steps closer, gesturing to Sairey's hands.
"Nice flowers."
As greetings go in exceptionally strange meetings, it's about as nonchalant and innocuous as it can get, which is probably for the best really. Hawke's not entirely sure she trusts her voice more than that, just yet. She's more shaken by the Amell resemblance than she expected.
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timeasmymeasure
god your pb for her is beautiful though (hello I like redheads)
Date: 2018-01-25 11:56 am (UTC)All the smells are different. The food is different. She's learned not to react when people look at her wide-eyed. The first few times had made her nervous, surreptitiously adjusting her stance so she could move into action if needed--but it was never out of recognition of her, not what she feared. She wears unostentatious armor, her long knives sheathed on her back. Just another sell-sword (sell-dagger, whatever) in a city crawling with them. It's not her that draws attention, but Teo. He isn't just a bloody huge Ferelden dog here, he's a mabari and recognized as such, and that automatically grants him--and his person--respect. It makes her less anonymous and more anonymous at the same time.
Anonymous is the goal. She's searching for answers to questions, niggling unfinished things that feel like they could be trouble. And she's traveling to draw attention away from Kirkwall and the ones she loves who are still there. Bethany refused to leave, chose to stay and help the now-apostate mages there; Aveline, of course, couldn't be pried out of the city with a crowbar. Varric had left for a time but had to go back.
Hawke's never been on her own for this long before, not in her whole life. She doesn't really care for it.
Teo bumps his head against her leg, sensing her moods as always, and she smiles fondly and scratches behind his ears. "I know, old boy," she says quietly, the words lost in the general racket of the crowds. Teo gives her a reproachful glance. No woolgathering or being maudlin today. They're on dangerous ground. This is the largest city they've been in since she left Kirkwall, the most eyes, the ones most likely to have heard descriptions of the missing Champion of Kirkwall.
At least one person here will know very well who she is. Hawke didn't describe herself, just in case; she described Teo instead, brought kaddis to use for decorating him with, a precaution as well as an identifying marker. At least one person will be actively watching for her.
Sairey Amell. The cousin Hawke has never met, but heard of. Sairey is overshadowed by the Hero of Ferelden's greater presence and legened, but she's part of the stories. Sairey, who might have answers.
Sairey, who's in the middle of frikking Amaranthine, during one of the biggest Chantry celebrations there is.
Hawke knows this is a stupid, risky plan. It's just that she's so used to stupid, risky plans.
Sairey isn't hard to find, right where she said she would be. The red hair stands out in the sun. What surprises Hawke is how familiar she looks. The bones in her face are Amell bones, the line of the jaw, her eyebrows, the way she stands. It's not an uncanny resemblance, but it's there. All the other things Sairey planned as identification marks are entirely superfluous.
For one moment Hawke just stands and stares. Then she steps closer, gesturing to Sairey's hands.
"Nice flowers."
As greetings go in exceptionally strange meetings, it's about as nonchalant and innocuous as it can get, which is probably for the best really. Hawke's not entirely sure she trusts her voice more than that, just yet. She's more shaken by the Amell resemblance than she expected.