Garrett Hawke (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
da_champion) wrote2023-08-19 03:59 pm
da_champion) wrote2023-08-19 03:59 pm
On the Road - For Unshod
The Storm Coast wasn’t much different from Crestwood. It rained almost constantly but there was a distinct lack of undead and the air had the smell of the ocean instead of rotting lake. But the rain was near constant. Endless. Driving Hawke insane even though he had on an oil slick cloak that kept him dry. One last gift from Inquisitor Lavellan before he left to head north to Wiessupt.
It didn't help him climb slick rock any but he wasn't soaked to the bone. Maybe he should have left from the desert but going back to Skyhold before he left to say goodbye to Varric and a quick resupply was better. Except for this miserable, Maker-foresaken weather.
When he heard the sounds of a fight a distance away on the beach he debated getting involved. It would slow him down and he was making slow progress already... but... he could take his bad mood out on whoever was causing trouble. A good fight would warm him up. The Inquisition had a presence here but they couldn’t be everywhere. Hawke would be doing them a favor by chipping in. He’d also get to throw a fireball which might actually warm him up a little.
He did not expect to see a familiar face cutting through Tevinter slavers. Hawke didn't even know there were slavers on this coast. There was no mistaking the distinctive flash of markings and the buzz of lyrium in the air. He could almost taste it in the back of his throat.
“Fenris!” Hawke shouted in greeting as he came quickly stumbling down the side of a not so steep cliff.
He reached the beach and threw his hand out ice lancing from his fingertips through a slaver. He made a gurgling sound before he fell dead. Spinning his staff around Hawke walked right into the fight. He was never one of those mages that stayed at a distance. He could throw a fireball but also run a man through with the bladed end of the staff.
Not that Fenris needed much help. He was perfectly capable of slaughtering slavers without any help even outnumbered five to one. They made short work of the slavers who seemed to be waiting for a ship to take them back to Tevinter with some kidnapped Dalish elves. Hawke kept back while Fenris freed them from their cages and shackles.
“Good to see you’re keeping busy,” he drawled when Fenris approached him.
It didn't help him climb slick rock any but he wasn't soaked to the bone. Maybe he should have left from the desert but going back to Skyhold before he left to say goodbye to Varric and a quick resupply was better. Except for this miserable, Maker-foresaken weather.
When he heard the sounds of a fight a distance away on the beach he debated getting involved. It would slow him down and he was making slow progress already... but... he could take his bad mood out on whoever was causing trouble. A good fight would warm him up. The Inquisition had a presence here but they couldn’t be everywhere. Hawke would be doing them a favor by chipping in. He’d also get to throw a fireball which might actually warm him up a little.
He did not expect to see a familiar face cutting through Tevinter slavers. Hawke didn't even know there were slavers on this coast. There was no mistaking the distinctive flash of markings and the buzz of lyrium in the air. He could almost taste it in the back of his throat.
“Fenris!” Hawke shouted in greeting as he came quickly stumbling down the side of a not so steep cliff.
He reached the beach and threw his hand out ice lancing from his fingertips through a slaver. He made a gurgling sound before he fell dead. Spinning his staff around Hawke walked right into the fight. He was never one of those mages that stayed at a distance. He could throw a fireball but also run a man through with the bladed end of the staff.
Not that Fenris needed much help. He was perfectly capable of slaughtering slavers without any help even outnumbered five to one. They made short work of the slavers who seemed to be waiting for a ship to take them back to Tevinter with some kidnapped Dalish elves. Hawke kept back while Fenris freed them from their cages and shackles.
“Good to see you’re keeping busy,” he drawled when Fenris approached him.
no subject
"As much as it would amuse you to carry me like a sack of potatoes through the snow, I think I will heed your advice and see if the Dalish have any boots I might purchase from them."
They will be uncomfortable, but he supposes he has to deal with that and move on. After stretching, Fenris settles back into his poor posture and starts to pull on the metal parts of his armour.
no subject
They get harassed enough as it is. Hawke doesn't like to be the cause of them suffering even more at the hands of the Chantry.
He packs up all he's carried with him and then considers Fenris a moment. "Would it be easier if we helped each other with our armor?"
They can put it on without help. They have for ages but Hawke watches him now and thinks... why?
comes back to this 20 years later
Then his fingers still at the suggestion, looking up to meet Hawke's gaze with his own. Taking in what he sees there, which seems to be the same consideration. But before Hawke can speak again, Fenris nods and takes his hands away from the fastenings he was just working on.
"I suppose it would save time," and it would have Hawke be closer, his hands on him...
He can't find it in himself to say no to that.