scales of justice

“Oh I was being entirely literal. That man should be thinking twice about anything that comes from his mouth.” She grinned while speaking, eyeing the man from their spot standing from one of the balconies on the tower. Refusing the urge to send a simple ice spell down just to scare him, she turned to the man standing next to her instead. “Why do you talk about yourself as if you’re some weak thing? Obviously you’re strong enough to be here in this chaos.”

“Honestly!” He says with a laugh. “I mean, really. Then again, I think he’s Orlesian? Does he look Orlesian to you? I think their noses are so far up in the air they really can’t see where they are at any given moment, which I suppose is why he doesn’t realize how many mages there are around here.” He clucks in mock pity. “I hope he steps in really fresh horse dung.” Though a tiny little spell to make him trip wouldn’t hurt, would it? So tempting...

YOU CAN BE PRETTY AND OLD

YOU HEARD ME

This is going to get put in it’s own page on the blog, too, but just for reference: unless I’m dealing with a Warden/Hawke/Inquisitor or someone who has a specific version of the Warden/Hawke/Inquisitor, I’m going to use my default world state! The details are below the cut (a bit short and sweet bc I forgot my login to get into my Tapestry >>;;)

[ an added note, however, that despite these girls being my personal worldstate, i’m open to discussing mains! ]

hamilton starters | accepting 

Is he satisfied?

The world is burning around him, ashes rain from the sky, blood runs red in the streets enough so that their boots stick to the ground. Mage kills Templar, Templar kills mage, and abominations and demons shriek in the streets, called forth by all this death and pain and whatever miasma of misfortune bleeds from Kirkwall’s very soul. 

And he did this. He’s clearer in mind now than he’s been for– for years, perhaps. For the first time since he woke up in Rolan’s camp with Justice in his head. The spirit is nothing but triumph and joy – they did this, they fought for their cause, they were right, this was good – but Anders? Anders wants to curl up and be sick. He wants to cry. He wants Astor to kill him; he knows Hawke wants to. He knows half of the people around him now want to. And really, if they were to do it, leave him another body in the streets, it would be well within their rights. He’d thank them, probably.

(But no, isn’t that just running away again? Like he ran from the Circle, ran from the Wardens, ran from all his problems until they quite literally blew up in his face? Death wold just be running away again, and the tiny rational part of him – that’s also apparently rather masochistic – says he has to live and suffer this uncertain future.)

But: Is he satisfied?

To say no would make it sound like he wants more of this. To say yes would make it sound like he’s happy.

“I don’t know,” he whispers, his voice hoarse from yelling earlier. “Yes. No– I–”

Words fail, and he glances into the sky as if the Maker himself would strike him down if he hoped hard enough, before looking at Hawke. “I’m tired,” he says quietly. He’s tired of this. Of everything. Of fighting, of running, of the reek of copper and sulfur and burning flesh that permeates Kirkwall right now. Of the blood on his hands and the voice in his head. He’s tired, and he’s sorry.

But sorry isn’t good enough, is it? Sorry wasn’t enough for Carver, for Leandra, for anyone before this – and it’s not enough now. So he doesn’t say it.

What will happen after, he doesn’t know – but for now, he’ll keep them all alive until this ends. It’s the least he can do.

Is he satisfied? 

hamilton starters | accepting

“I don’t know,” he admits. “But isn’t that the question everyone asks themselves? Have I done enough, will I do enough, is what I’ve done enough…” He laughs hollowly, shaking his head. “And then you do it, and you either realize you did nothing, or you did more than enough – you did too much.”

hamilton starters | accepting

hamilton starters | accepting

“You had damned well better live to see our glory, Hawke,” he says, without looking up. “I mean– what kind of a healer would I be if you didn’t? Or any of us, really. Okay, maybe not Fenris, but–” A pause. “I’m joking, I’m joking! I won’t let any of you die.”

hamilton starters | accepting

“I’m looking, Kieran,” the mage says dryly. “And I’m mostly just seeing how close we were to dying horribly. You know, grrr, argh, I’m being chewed on by a darkspawn, help! and all that.”