“No.”

The response to the Champion is brief; her eyes are assessing the damages caused by rampant violent thievery and rambunctiousness that had happened to catch the Knight-Commander on her return from a late meeting with the Grand Cleric.

Two mages lay slain, unable to defend themselves from a gang of bandits, most of which remain at her feet also. Her blade is sheathed across her back, certain that any of those that ran away -- once they knew they had both the Champion and the Knight-Commander against them -- would not be making a second appearance this late in the night. 

A few other templars have finally been mustered, and begin the arrangements of finding out who was killed in action, leaving Meredith to speak to Hawke alone. 

In truth, she’s grateful for the younger woman’s timely intervention; it isn’t that she’s not capable, but fending off several bandits at once leaves no room for mistakes, lest the price is a dagger in the back between plates, left to bleed out on the cobblestones. 

“As far as I know. A shame,” She answers, coolly as their bodies are taken away, and a note is made to contact their respective families. They may call her heartless, but in such an act of violence (not by her own hand), the least she can do is apologise by letter. She’s sure the First Enchanter will be storming her office first thing in the morning for not informing him sooner, but she has no patience to deal with Orsino now. 

                   “... hawke.” he hasn’t seen her since he left from kirkwall, and the sight of her now does nothing but make him hate himself. he hates himself for the way that her presence makes him feel, and he hates the WORLD for sending her to him now so that she can see how low he’s sunk. alone in a tavern, barely able to feed and house himself for want of money, stripped of everything that made him who he was. his cruel name for himself has never seemed more apt than it does now. vashedan. WORTHLESS REFUSE. “---shanedan.”

relationship aesthetic

   “Champion, I was not expecting you to be back so soon.”

A similar expression of surprised contentment shared from earlier spreads across the Knight-Commander’s smile, setting down the quill of the report regarding the status of the three missing mages - only one returned without punishment for the ridiculous reason of escaping, to which only an Orlesian would desire. The thought makes her chuckle again - yet another rarity comfortable to happen only in Hawke’s presence. 

While no longer indicating to indulge in the wine - as it has become standard to simply help themselves - Meredith has already taken to a cup of the preferred drink. It is late enough that she has sent Elsa away to her quarters, knowing that not even Orsino would come bother her this far past sundown. The Gallows are at rest - and she will, at some point, join the quiet. 

“Was there anything more to be said about these apostates, Hawke? There is room for addendum, if need be.”

                    he should care that he’s making a childish display, but he doesn’t. he can neither bring himself to stop crying nor to care that he is; this is the first time since he was eight years old that he’s had the stitches out of his mouth and the chain leash removed from around his neck, and it’s indescribable. he’d forgotten entirely what freedom feels like until now, and he can’t help this sort of reaction. if it’s pathetic, he doesn’t CARE. 

i’m summoned by sin everyone knows this