#awarden

i just have this image of orsino ripping from a bong on the floor of a shitty dorm room oh my god

↠    A fight nearby, a mess of clicks and blips on their proximity tracker. Shouts,        roars, but no gunfire. Instead it sounded like.. like.. The little Ghost had no        sure word for it, nothing in their memory archives that could suggest a name.        The blips and clicks quickly diminished and the sounds somewhere ahead        diminished. The world grew quiet and the little light paused in their curious        journey, listening.

      A small group ahead, they decided. Human, maybe? They gave off different       signals than those back on Earth. Awoken?

      Those ahead are moving on and ANUBIS followed after them, floating low       over the ground, careful to keep enough distance that they hopefully wont       be spotted. And then they saw the bodies. Dark, twisted creatures, something       akin to Thrall at the very least. Amber light cast down at them, brief beams       that covered the expanse of the bodies. Then they moved on to another one,       casting the light onto the ground beside it, studying it. Scratches dug into       the dirt by something - sharp? Not the right shape for a bullet.

      A blip on proximity. The beam stopped, amber gaze flicking up where the       disturbance sat, hidden. Human. Possibly hostile. The little Ghost slowly       lowered closer to the ground, reminding themselves that there’s no transmat       here, no Guardian they can escape to. Be careful, careful, prepare an       escape route. They stared, then finally spoke up, amplifying their voice a little. ↤

                “so how did ye... escape wha’ happened tae the rest’ae the                 wardens, then? most’ae them went proper mental from the whole                 callin’ mess.”

          Lothering is silent -- at least, the streets hum only with crickets, rats, and the faint sound of evening frivolity from the tavern. Everything seems at peace, and even the Hawke household is asleep. Save for one. Well -- two. Lucian sits upon the wood of their front gate, waiting in the darkness. Carver is gone. It isn’t the first time. Even so, it always sets the eldest Hawke on edge. Father tells him not to be too harsh, but Lucian can hardly stay his concern. Carver is older now, runs off on his own more. Does not listen.

          It makes his knee bounce.

          Finally, he hears the sound of approaching footsteps (which seem to be attempting stealth? poorly). Lucian pushes himself up from his seat, his glare forming upon his face.

CCARVER DISPROVES

CARVER DISAPPROVES

          “ What are you grumbling about now? ”