Private Entry

[hawke_groundzero_fadewalk]

Once upon a time, there was a Hawke.

She wasn't the smartest Hawke, or the prettiest, though she didn't know it at the time.

One day Hawke got left in the Fade to die because she was pretty great at the death stuff. But she didn't. She chopped up about a million dozen spider demons using her little knives and their giant momma demon and then she walked.

And walked.

And walked.

There should've been an end in there. Was supposed to be an end in there. She wanted there to be an end in there.

In the end she's not sure where she ended up. She's... glad though. Because Varric's here and I--

Shit.

RP: Cullen (cullen_fadewalk)

[evelea_fadewalk]

Evelea had stared at the journal for a long time trying to decide what that meant. Wherever she was comfortable? There wasn't much comforting about this place. Finally she'd written back the garden? because she'd been working there each day and it was as familiar as anywhere else.

She sat cross-legged next to the royal elfroot bed, frowning down at it in forced consternation. Was it real? Real enough to smell when she gently rubbed the pad of her thumb across a leaf, real enough to ease the sting of a scratch she placed there. It's medicinal properties held up. But did it grow? If they harvested part of it would new buds form? How were any of these plants faring without sunlight?

The sound of footsteps, when they finally came, startled her. She had been half-convinced that he wouldn't appear, at least not today. She didn't look up right away, hair in her face and hands clasped in her lap, trying to figure out how to even meet his eyes.

(no subject)

[zevranfadewalk]

( Private )

( Alistair )

(no subject)

[varricmod]

( Private )

( All Hawkes )

( Kirkwall crew )

( Private )

Everyone okay? Everyone doing all right? Shout out if not, yeah?

(no subject)

[cullen_fadewalk]

( Private )

( Evelea )

Alistair

[zevranfadewalk]

Alistair was avoiding him.

He was (a little) smoother than he used to be, hiding his intentions well. Pretending like he needed to always be by Cullen or Neria or one of the others' sides. But Zevran had known Alistair a very long time. He could read him the way no one else--not even Elissa, a fact which Zevran took especially pride in--could.

And Alistair? Was definitely avoiding him. Ever since Zevran had been injured trying to protect him, he'd been acting very strange--strained. Uncertain. Fumbling with feelings? There was really only one way to find out.

(Well, no, that wasn't true, but there was only one way Zevran wanted to try. Besides, he had gotten used to sleeping on an actual bed--all these nights curled in rafters or on stone were making him miss their nice little flat in Antiva even more.)

It was late at night, verging on very early morning, when he slipped in through the window. Alistair's bedroom was dark, quiet. He slept curled on his side, blanket tangled about his legs. Zevran moved on silent feet, wary of waking the other man. He slipped off his armor and soft leather shoes, then crawled into bed, light as a feather. Alistair shifted and mumbled, but Zevran had perfected the art of not waking this man, and before long they were curled together in bed.

He let out a soft sigh, relaxing. Finally at peace.

Closing his eyes, lungs filled with the scent of Alistair, he gave himself to sleep.