Closed prompts but also open!

[otiosity]

Who: Hawke, Adrien, that jerk Tony Stark, that jerk Nathan Drake, maybe some other jerks, maybe you!
When: The early part of the month
Where: The med bay, the site on the ship formerly known as the bar, the observation deck, and around.
What: Reuniting with people after cryo, that horrible slaving experience, and dealing with lyrium overdosing and mana exhaustion. FUN STUFF.
Warnings: Mentions of slavery, nudity, medical stuff, general hawkewardness.



For the first time since she's arrived on the Moira. Hawke dreams in the Fade. Perhaps it's a side effect of all of those lyrium potions she took. Or just pure luck that it happens while she's recovering in the hospital. But either way, it's a return to the comforting familiar. Or as familiar as a twisted green raw metaphysical realm can be.

It's darker than she remembers. And she moves slowly and clumsily as though moving through flowing water up to her chest. It's the same strange distance that she feels when she tries to cast spells as she wakes. Everything seems to be off in the eternal distance with the Black City. She sees Kirkwall, standing tall on the horizon, it's port unchained waiting for her. She hears whispers, voices. Some familiar, the ones she always hears: her father, Bethany, Carver, mother... and sometimes Varric and Isabela and Aveline.

"Come home sister." Bethany's voice says off in the distance, coming from behind instead of from Kirkwall before her. As she turns, she can see her childhood home out of the corner of her eye only briefly than it vanishes.

"Have you abandoned your city, Champion?" Knight-Commander Meredith's voice asks coldly in the distance echoing from the towers of the vision of Kirkwall before her. The tone in her voice is clear. 'Of course you did, a mage would never stand and protect the people of this city'. Another failure on the list.

"What about us?" Before her Kirkwall warps, the former slave city turning into the port she barely just escaped from. From one city of chains into another. The voices of the slaves, the people she saw in the prison, the dark haired girl like Bethany, ask her why she left. Why did she leave without helping them.

Hawke pauses. Unsure whether or not to move forward. What if by going there she only makes things worse. The landscape is suddenly barren. There's no Kirkwall. No slave city. No childhood hope. Everything is empty except for the Black City where it looms always.

"Marian," Her father's voice whispers in her ear. "Where are you going? You're going to get lost if you wander too far from home." No one has called her by her first name in so long. It gives her pause.

And then she wakes up.

((ooc; I just wanted to write some weird Fade bullshit to start off before prompts because WHY NOT. If you want a prompt or anything please PM me or send me a plurk ping or PP at bowtie))

Comments

[otiosity]

You're adding to my trauma. This is very bad for my healing.

[She's not even mad bro. She's just glad you're alive. At the mention of his alternate she scrunches up her nose.]

Are you certain that he's your double and he doesn't happen to just have a very similar name? Stark with two 'A's perhaps?

[arcreact]

[ Wouldn't that be nice? Having some asshole wander around that has no relation to him whatsoever aside from some words on paperwork? Instead of this alternate-him jackass that he actually has to deal with. ]

Don't taunt me with realities that will never be.

[ HE'S SUFFERED ENOUGH. ]

[otiosity]

I'm in a downward spiral and I'm dragging everyone with me.

[she collapses dramatically to her back on the floor. Bad idea in a hospital gown? Yes. Who doesn't give a shit? It's Hawke.]

[arcreact]

[ PUT SOME PANTS ON.

He stands over her, somewhere vaguely above her head, and cocks an artful eyebrow. ]

And yet there you are, down there. And here I am, up here. Somebody's gotta give.

[otiosity]

{FUCK YOU SHE DOES WHAT SHE WANTS.

She glances back up at him, her eyes wide and voice light and ankles crossed as if she was simply lazing about on the floor. If she's experiencing any sort of anxiety she's clearly trying to hide it.]

Well then I see two scientific options. Since you're a strange science sort. You can either get down here or pull me back up. I think the former is easier. Though I could just smash you into the floor with magic but thankfully, I like you for reasons unable to be explained.

[arcreact]

Very scientific. You could probably make a data table out of your findings and everything.

[ But fine, he can't argue with that excellent scientific argument. He deposits himself cross-legged on the floor, then fixes her with a look like fancy meeting you here. ]

So. Are you gonna brag about your battle scars or what?

[otiosity]

Yes. I'm a very scientific sort. Numbers, thoughts, experiments, blah blah blah.

[She at least pulls herself up into a sitting pose to match him with a wince. Then she gives a little shrug.]

They're not that exciting. The shots went clean through. You don't even have to yank 'em out like a cross bow bolt. I've have much cooler scars to brag about.

[She runs a hand down her stomach, fingers brushing her scars from the fight with the Arishok and the new one forming. Bodily scars didn't usually bother her. It was part of the life she lead. But the slaver's words crept into the dark corners of her mind, "pretty face, too bad about the rest of her".]

What was it like being put on ice?

[arcreact]

[ He crosses his arms, giving her an assessing look that's completely at odds with the levity in his tone. He's letting her get away with her bullshit, mostly, but that doesn't mean he's oblivious to it. ]

More fun than being shot, probably.

[ Except for the part where his heart nearly stopped, but he'll go ahead and talk about that Literally Never. ]

And definitely more fun than waking back up to all this nonsense.

[otiosity]

[Oh. She sees that look. It's the look that Aveline gives her often and Varric gives her sometimes. Which is sad because she though Tony was VERY COOL. And not judgey like Aveline. What a sad turn of events. So she's just going to defiantly stare him down with forced obliviousness until all the weirdness subsides.

...Not like that isn't contributing or anything.]

It wasn't that bad. I did tell you it went clean through right? I can show you but something tells me that it's "not appropriate" and would "make people uncomfortable".

[A roll of the eyes.]

Well. If you just woke back up to us all being boring what's even the point. You need some drama in a narrative, right? Like ships sinking, castles being sieged, massive sudden enslavement, you know. The classics.

[arcreact]

I am very difficult to make uncomfortable.

[ The collective level of propriety in this room right now is zero, fam. ]

But listen. We're in space. That should be enough drama to write itself. I can think of at least a handful of sci-fi franchises that'll back me up, here. All the rest of this? Totally unnecessary.

[otiosity]

Thank the Maker because this thing itches like hell. Ugh. Healing magic is suddenly much more appreciated than stitches. Anders, forgive me for all the times i never thanked you.

[She's just gonna pull up the hem of her gown and scratch and a freshly formed scar on her stomach just to the left of her belly button. Considering the large scar on her right hip and a massive one that starts at her pelvis and goes up past her chest, she clearly is old hat at this.

Then again is she testing him or just being Hawke. Who knows? Maybe both. Though the scratching reminds her of the IV in her hand and her face turns a little gray at the sight and she moves that hand behind her back as she wrinkles her nose at Tony.]

Sci...fi?

[arcreact]

[ Tony Stark, bless him, barely bats an eyelash. At the near-nudity or the scarring. ]

Jesus, I should start calling you patchwork.

[ He's also very sensitive and tactful. ]

I saw that, don't barf on me— it's a genre of fiction that's superior to all other forms, and possibly the most important thing your dreadfully ancient dragon land is missing out on. Incidentally and not related to that at all, congrats on not being dead.

[ Because from the scarring, it kinda LOOKS LIKE SHE SHOULD BE?? ]

[otiosity]

[Aww Tony, this is why she likes you. She seems positively chuffed at his congratulations. Like she just won some kind of big prize.]

Glad to be alive. And having still most of my organs intact after being rammed through on a giant Ox man's spear. Honestly, it was pretty precarious for a bit. Lots of drama and tears, or so I'm told.

And no I'm not going to barf on you. I've never barfed on anyone while sober. Except family but that doesn't count they have to love you anyway. She leans forward, happy to have this distraction.]

Tell me more. I have a friend who writes novels.

[arcreact]

First, the "making alarming statement in an extremely underrated manner" thing is mine, you need to back off.

[ He points at her as he says it, like he's THREATENING HER. He'll call his legal department, so help him. ]

Second, write down everything that's happened to you since the Ingress pulled you in. Congrats, you're a sci-fi author. Your critics will probably tell you your world-hopping premise feels contrived and unrealistic.

[ Hashtag fuck the Ingress. ]

[otiosity]

Afraid of a challenge, Mr. Stark? Perhaps you need someone to move in on your turf to keep you fresh.

[She reaches out and puts her finger to his, ET style, and gently pushes it back.]

Apparently, I was a born writer and never knew it. Wait until I tell Varric. He's a friend back home. Famous author of fantasy and romance. Bet he's never heard of sci-fi. I'll take over his turf too.

[Apparently, she's in a mood for conquest.]