#inquisiitor

<3 <3

Set Scene: The Wounded Coast, sun high in the sky, in a clearing surrounded by trees. Sebastian and Garrett Hawke out hunting, two rogues, ambushed by bandits that are quickly dispatched, but not quick enough.

//

“Wiggle your fingers. I need to make sure it’s not broken.”

Garrett tries. Maker, he tries, but his movements stutter at the elbow and explode into pain. He tries to bite back the cry of pain, tries--

“It’s alright, Hawke.” Sebastian’s Starkhaven drawl had always been something of a comfort, a reminder of easier times. Now it’s like music to Garrett’s ears, warm and comforting, even better. “Easy.” His fingers hover near Garrett’s cradled elbow, his useless wrist, bent at a troubling angle where it had caught a bandit’s shield in the ambush. “Let me see.”

“Just-- wait,” gasps Garrett, surprised at the breath missing from his throat. “It hurts.” He realises, “It is. It’s broken.”

“I know.” Sebastian sets his fingers, ever so gently, on the skin on his arm. “We’ll get it braced, slung up, and we’ll take the walk back to Kirkwall nice and slow.”

“That-- that sounds good,” he agrees, managing a smile. Sebastian doesn’t look concerned, as steely as ever, but worry rings through behind his eyes, in the rumble of his deep voice. Maybe it helps. Maybe it doesn’t.

Sebastian fashions him a brace out of two arrows, the arrowheads pulled off -- a task he knows will take hours to re-do. And a brace out of the leather in Hawke’s pack, coarse but will do the job. A little like them.

“On three.” Sebastian’s voice is not as slow now. His hands are on Hawke’s arm, his eyes holding Garrett’s gaze. “One, two--” Crack.

Garrett doesn’t even try to stop the scream this time, the clearing turning white as the pain runs up and down his arm, blinding and hot. “It’s okay, Hawke, it’s okay. It’s done.” Sebastian is holding his good shoulder, squeezing it tight. His gaze is piercing, strong.

It carries him through lifting his arm into the makeshift sling, and Sebastian helping him to his feet. He’s a little wobbly, but Sebastian is steady, firm. He loops Hawke’s good arm around his shoulders and Garrett leans into his side instantly, grateful for the relief. His legs are shaky, tired.

His heart is all the opposite.

as someone who cares about hawkeye the most out of all the marvel characters, comic and movie combined, i agree nat should've been the one to live (although as a hawkeye fan i WILL say comics clint is better... :( they did my boy wrong in the mcu)

thank you again <3 <3

Set Scene: The party camp a mere few hours after Zevran’s assassination attempt on the party.

//

“Are you alright?”

Surprisingly, it’s the Warden herself, peaking through the fabric of his tent. Zevran has been busying himself pitching said tent, and now, cleaning the grime off his leathers from where he’d been prepared to die -- in the mud and the dirt. 

“Why, I’m perfectly fine,” he responds, trying to hide his surprise. And suspicion. Perhaps she would finish him now, quietly? Have him let down his guard?

“You haven’t tended to your wounds yet,” she notes. No, she is not peaking into his tent, but hovering in the entranceway. 

"It was the next item on my long list of ‘surviving a suicidal assassination attempt’. After pitching a tent within your target’s camp.” The party had shared an elfroot potion with him, after helping him up, but some cuts and bruises lingered. Perhaps he looked worse than he thought. “But no, I’m quite alright, Ser Warden. You don’t need to concern yourself with me.”

“Did you think I was going to leave you like...” She looks him up and down. He’s definitely looking worse for wear, then. “... this?”

“That’s very kind of you, Ser--”

“Nolla.”

“... That’s very kind of you, Nolla. But I’m alright.”

She doesn’t appear to believe him, but she doesn’t seem to care for arguing it with him, either. “You know where to find me, if not,” she says. “We don’t have a healer with us, but my time in the aliengage taught me a thing or two about tending wounds.”

thank you <3 I APPRECIATE YOU VERY MUCH!!!!!

Set Scene: An Inquisition function, a large garden estate in the dusk headed by an enormous white and gold building. An Orlais political function headed by Josephine and The Inquisitor, Evelyn Trevelyan, a hardy warrior from the Free Marches.

//

“Who did this to you?” Evelyn’s attention is pulled from the meagre conversation immediately, like a soldier snapped to attention, face drawn and all. The nobles look scandalized, Sera can see even behind their fancy masks the how offended they look the Inquisitor’s attention has been stolen by an elf. 

Her head hurts. The look that settles on Evelyn’s face makes it worse. “Some of those fancy... eh... noble nobheads.” She makes a vague gesture over her shoulder, back towards the more spirited of the function.

Evelyn takes her hand, her other hand gently tipping her head up by the chin, to see the blood splattered on the side of her head--

Crack, on the stone of the steps, and Sera is too stunned to do anything besides blink at the ground in shock. The ringing in her ears only takes a second to subside, the dizziness a moment longer as she bats hands away and pulls herself to her feet. Words come to her mouth, but stop when she sees the nobles are staring at her, from the top of the stairs to the bottom, and then on the outdoor ballroom floor, and further on the garden pathways. Her head spins too much to remember what she was going to say.

She blinks-- and Evelyn is looking at her both like Sera would shatter into pieces before her eyes, and that the world is about to be torn into pieces.

“Are you okay?” she asks, a tone of voice that would suggest she’s asking again.

“Fine,” is the automatic answer. “Uh, head hurts, just a tad.” Her hand flies up to meet Evelyn’s on its own accord. Her hand is warm, comforting, against Sera’s one-- shaking one?

seb/hawke is so undervalued and they're just so. good. and this is so good. that second last line

omggg this is SO GOOD its so much better than the little idea i had when sending it to you <3!!