faemused | Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post 2

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From:

boozeandbooty

[ ooc: i'm rolling with any hawke background/major decision/romance, it's all good! but i was kind of hoping maybe we can get some shippiness going on between these two eventually, maybe some old unacknowledged feelings or fwb thing during da2, something like that? but i'm seriously good with gen as well. everything and anything goes! ♥ ]

After Kirkwall, they all scatter to the winds; except perhaps Aveline and Varric (for a time). And then, the whole world goes tits up. The Conclave fails spectacularly as the Temple of Sacred Ashes explodes and the sky is torn asunder. Mages and templars are at each other's throats worse than ever before, demons pour out of thin air as rifts open up all over. The Inquisition is formed, and all over Thedas the scales of power shift as the fledgling organisation gains in strength, influence and followers week after week.

Isabela knows which way the wind blows. The Inquisition arguably has the best chance of putting things to rights again, of fixing the hole in the sky. So, after a sly elven spy of the organization (Charter, was it?) delivers an official-looking message into her hand in Highever -- along with a letter from a very familiar dwarf -- the pirate rolls her eyes, curses Varric's name, and signs up as an agent. Turns out, being an agent of the Inquisition isn't all that different than being a Raider Captain-- or Admiral, actually. She still gets to plunder and pillage, but the loot (anything from information to gold to supplies to freed hostages) mostly goes toward the Inquisition war chest. Not that she doesn't make sure she gets her own share, and the Inquisition is generous enough in that regard. So much so that Isabela can in good conscience claim it's in her best interests, financially, to lend a helping hand to the organization. Of course she wants to see the world saved, but she also has a reputation to protect, here.

She takes her ship and raids her way across Ferelden and Orlais in the Inquisition's name, while the organization leaves the rubble of Haven behind and relocates to Skyhold.

She couldn't have possibly foreseen that a chance stop to rest and resupply in some small, shitty coastal town near Jader would bring her face to face with a dear old friend she's heard not a peep out of in way too long. The tavern Isabela sniffs out (almost literally) bears some resemblance to the Hanged Man and other such holes in the wall-- maybe why she takes such an immediate liking to the place. She drinks and gambles the day away; and gets into a fight when she cheats in Wicked Grace. The stupid lummox takes offense and kicks up a fuss. Isabela punches him in the face after the name-calling goes too far.

It goes from there. The rest of the idiot thug's gang jump in on the fray, and Isabela is only too happy to take them on, spurred on by the drink and adrenaline. Leaving her daggers in their sheathes, she punches, kicks, breaks bottles over some heads-- and laughs a little too gleefully all the while. The rest of the patrons either flee or continue to mind their own business despite the fisticuffs going on near the bar. A few of the thugs get their licks in as well and Isabela's lip is bleeding and one cheek is already bruising, but she laughs on despite it all.

Brandishing a broken bottle by the neck over her head, she whirls around after the thugs have all been felled, having caught footsteps and assuming it means reinforcements. But instead of malodorous bandits, Isabela only sees one woman standing in the doorway of the tavern; even after all this time, Isabela would recognize Hawke in a heartbeat.

"Maker's balls!" she exclaims through a wide grin, pausing to spit some blood out of her mouth and onto the grimy floor. "We really should stop meeting like this, sweet thing."

Edited Date: 2019-01-21 02:40 pm (UTC)

From:

questionablewit

Hawke has been nowhere. More accurately she's been everywhere, but as far as the world's been concerned, she's been nowhere. Other names, odd jobs, being just another displaced Ferelden refugee with nowhere to go back to who now works as a sword for hire...it's not hard, not even with a bloody great mabari at her side. Stories about the missing Champion of Kirkwall abound (and even songs, blight it, to say nothing of Varric's book), and sometimes she gets a strange look or two. But mostly she manages to lie low, for once.

The strangest part has been getting used to being alone. Hawke's never been alone before, never in her life. She had her family around her even when they fled to Kirkwall, and then she gradually built up her motley band of misfit friends there, and then when everything went to shit they all splintered. By choice or necessity, reluctantly in most cases, but the end result was Hawke alone. She's used to it now. At least, that's what she keeps telling herself. And she still has Teo. Though that's a little more like saying she still has her left foot or her right ear.

She knows she's invited to the Conclave. Word gets around, especially when you're still in touch with Varric. A hundred horses couldn't have dragged her to that meeting. But when the sky explodes, she almost wishes she'd gone, if only for the chance that she might know what in the Void happened there. Curiosity will get her in real trouble someday.

Varric writes, and she writes back, pretending to be just another one of his informants. It's not a lie, it's just not the whole truth. He tells her about the Inquisition. After he's gotten to know the Inquisitor a little better, he even suggests she consider showing up. People aren't interested in the Champion anymore; it's the Herald of Andraste who's got everyone's attention and hopes weighing her down.

Better her than Hawke, who still refuses. Until all the red lyrium starts showing up everywhere. Until all the Grey Wardens disappear.

Until Corypheus.

Hawke's been doing her own investigations all along, with a little help from Varric and other people who owe her favors. But Corypheus, that's another matter. She can't ignore him. He's her responsibility, at least in part.

So like it or not, she makes her way towards Skyhold. Unobtrusively, on foot, alone except for her dog, passing through any number of ratspit places on the way, which is what she's been doing ever since the left Kirkwall. She's been in this one once or twice, because there's a tavern with ale that's actually worth drinking, and coastal towns always have odd jobs to do for someone who doesn't care if their hands get a little dirty.

The bar brawl wasn't part of the plan, and when she opens the door and sees it her first instinct is to shut it again and walk back out. But Teo suddenly yelps happily, and then she hears a familiar voice. The grin that stretches Hawke's face is real, and it's been far too long since she's worn one, but she doesn't think about that. She could help, but Isabela clearly has everything nearly settled, so Hawke just leans in the doorway and enjoys the show. It's always a pleasure to watch Isabela work, for many reasons. "This is only the second time," she calls back, grinning. "It's not a tradition until three."

One of the toughs who landed near the door groans and looks like he's thinking of getting up. The mabari by Hawke's side looks down at him, mouth spread in a canine grin, complete with lots of teeth. The tough decides unconsciousness is the better part of survival just as Hawke steps over him and grabs Isabela in a fierce hug. "I see you haven't changed. What was it, cheating at cards or someone using truly unbearable pick-up lines?"

[ooc: I default to an Andersmance with breakup for maximum fucking up Hawke, but that wouldn't get in the way. Regardless she'd always have flirted with Isabela (how can you *not*?) and I'm happy for them to have had a one night fling back early in the day if you like. For the future, let's see how the sparks fly. ;) BTW assume circle mage Bethany and general maxed friendships everywhere, and enjoy Hawke's mabari.]

From:

boozeandbooty

"Hah," Isabela barks through a short laugh, wiping blood from her lip while Hawke's mabari deals with the remaining, conscious thug. Suddenly, she's caught up in a tight hug-- and oh, she had no idea they did hugs. Though usually not one for such displays of affection, Isabela allows is now; returns it even, just as fiercely, and laughs again merrily. Maker, she's missed the woman! The day is shaping up to much more delightful than she'd ever imagined.

"Oh, you know how it is," Isabela says blithely once they draw back from the hug, waving a hand in airy dismissal. "Some men simply can't handle a bit of honest swindling. If you come to a shithole like this to gamble and you don't expect to get cheated? That makes you the idiot."

Chuckling, she slaps Hawke on the shoulder companionably. "Come on-- let me get you a drink, sit with me a moment. We'll catch up. You didn't stray this way for the ambiance, I should hope."

Considering the bar rivals the Hanged Man in smell and cleanliness. Or lack thereof, rather. Smirking, Isabela turns a little and points at the barkeep with a wink, before liberating him of one of the bottles nearby and a couple of glasses-- the poor man only lifts his hands up, evidently deciding it's not worth it to raise a fuss over a bottle of alcohol after the brawl that just happened.

Turning back to Hawke, Isabela nods towards the more private corner table. "Shall we?"