❛ NO PEACE. ❜

THIS BLOG WILL EITHER BECOME AN ARCHIVE OR FACE DELETION.

hey hey hey ------ i’ve been away for a while, i know. but! i just want to let you guys know that i plan on replaying dragon age 2 and making a full comeback on this blog after my finals are over ( so the 22nd of this month, which isn’t all that far away! ). so sit tight, guys! your neighborhood glowing treepostate will return in time, i promise.

@insurrects​.

She’s a vampire, not a DEMON —- not that most in Thedas will admit to the difference. It’s reason enough that Caroline keeps to herself, && does not take kindly to a  ( stranger )  approaching in the half-dark. Still, she’s not going to TEAR his throat out unless he tries anything nasty.

        ❝  Whatever you’re LOOKING for, you won’t find it here. ❞

  HAVING BECOME THE BANE OF multiple groups’ existence, it only made   sense for the apostate to live as a vagrant, of sorts. constantly moving, never   in one place for too long ---- constantly fighting the bloodthirsty templars that   scoured every nook and cranny of the hinterlands in an attempt to find him. it   is only by chance that he comes across her, having run from one such battle   --- he’s tired, he’s slightly injured, but, it seems, he cannot rest. not yet.

  warily ( read: staff in hand ), he approaches her, but he does not attack.  there   is no threat; no point. he wouldn’t have any more innocent blood shed.

Of course it isn’t, Hawke knows that, but he cannot deny the occasional doubt which stems from Anders’ words. Pushing where Hawke was always pulling, trying to create distance where there should be none. Or was it simply that the rogue was being selfish and unreasonable? Blind to the feelings of others. He stifles these notions quick enough, refusing to believe them until Anders’ chooses to shed any cowardice and speak honestly with him on these maters. Until there is a blatant ‘I do not want you around,’ Hawke will persist, the greedy man that he was. Taking what he pleased, though in this case it was the company that he fancied and little more.

The smile is met with narrowed eyes, suspicion regarding the concern, but he knows it’s genuine. Anders wouldn’t care to repeat it so often if it weren’t, his voice caked with tired cracks from the strain of worry. It’s endearing, albeit annoying, though it gives Hawke and excuse for more of the apostate’s attention and that is something he will very rarely turn away.

“You make it easy too, I’d be committing a crime if I didn’t take advantage of it.” Hawke rocks back on his heels, posture loose and relaxed. He tries not to think of the words and their implications, opting for selective hearing that focuses on the latter bit ( something in his chests tightens and flutters and it’s things like that which wipe away doubt from his mind ).

“And risk putting myself in danger when you’re not around? For all your fretting I’m surprise you’re not more insistent on spending everyone minute with me. What if I fall over and skin my knee, who will be there to kiss it better?” The corners of his eyes crinkle with his teasing. “But — if that’s really what you want, to be rid of me, then I suppose I have no choice but to take my leave. Fair warning I won’t be going home, I’m certain someone else will find my company to par and not see fit to shoo me off.” He’s only being honest, though sleep would be welcome Hawke doesn’t foresee it in his future. No point in chasing something that will only allude ( an attitude not shared with his pursuit of the apostate ).

  “  well, all my fretting aside, you’re a grown man, and i’m more than aware of    that. you don’t need me to hold your hand crossing the streets —–  or to kiss    your knee when you scrape it.  just to patch you up after it’s happened, and to    lecture you for it later. “ ( he almost laughs. almost. )    “ i’m hoping you’ll le-    arn your lesson, one of these days. either that, or you’ll grow so tired of hear-    ing me say ‘i told you so’ that you’ll stop being reckless altogether. ”

  BUT DEEP DOWN, HE KNOWS that neither scenario is plausible; not really.   not in this universe, and not concerning the man that stood before him. garrett   hawke was a force all on his own —-    proud and strong, but terribly reckless,   sometimes to the point of what would otherwise be death, were it not for ande-   rs, and his timely interventions.  in truth, he would like to see the man behave   a bit more carefully, with more regard for his life,   and nothing more than that.   but, time and time again, hawke had proved that such was not in his nature —   thus, he would continue to stumble through the door of the clinic,  battered and   bruised and terribly bloody, and anders would continue to tend to him because   it was his duty ( one that was not sworn aloud, but internally ) to keep the other   alive and well. or as close to ‘well’ as he could manage, circumstances consi-   dered. in a sense, it allowed him the guarantee that he would see hawke on any   given day, and would continue to see him for as long as they remained here.

  perhaps that was why he didn’t do as hawke so sarcastically suggested,    and   'ward off the danger’, in a sense. perhaps he refrains subconsciously,  to fulfill his   own selfish needs. if that was the case, it made him sick.   but for the moment,    it was neither here nor there. 

  hawke says he’ll leave, as requested.    a lump begins to form in anders’ throat.

She knows she should be working harder at avoiding getting hurt; as a mage, it’s      certainly always going to be easier to stay further away from their enemy. That was      where the problem was, though– Not everyone stayed further away from her. Getting      a broken rib or worse was expected, at this point, and coming away from a fight with      anything less than that was nothing short of a miracle. As Anders’ hands move away,      the woman gives a slow breath, tilting her head towards the other apostate.

          “Thank you, Anders. I’ll do my best– But you know how things             are, these days. Everyone wants to try their hands at taking me             down.”

 She gives him a wry smile as she pulls her tunic down over the ugly bruise spreading      across her side. The aforementioned broken rib is no longer a problem, though, and the      ability to breathe without hurting too badly is certainly an improvement. Hawke looks      towards her companion and tips her chin up. It’s later in the evening. More people will      be trickling towards Darktown to sleep, very soon.

            “I should learn a little bit more healing magic, hm? You might              get more sleep that way.”

  YES, HE KNOWS ALL TOO WELL the situation in kirkwall, and the sorts of    enemies that marian had made since returning from ( what those who had not   witnessed its events firsthand thought to be ) a successful deep-roads expedi-   tion. they envied her for her riches, the manner in which she’d clawed her way   out of lowtown and into an upper-class mansion,   the way she could now step   out onto her balcony at whim and look down at those that would have endeavo-   red to keep her down, had the situation been different. but it was more than just   that. setting aside the fact that she herself was a mage ( a fact that many, esp-   ecially those among the ranks of the templars, abhorred ),  the company she’d   elected to keep was thought to be questionable, at best. a ragtag group of fugiti-   ves, apostates, pirates, and everything in-between. anders knows that he must   contribute to some of the danger she faces on a daily basis, and he knows that   he does so in no small way. guilt gnaws at him as a result, but he forces it do-   wn. the last time he’d voiced it, he was told he was being “silly”,  or something   to that effect --- that hawke would be in perpetual peril regardless of whether or   not they’d met. ( and perhaps that was true, but anders figures it would be subs-   tantially less. maybe it was just him that believed so. )