riverview | 01 🐦 (video; un: hawke)

[Hawke's been thrown her fair share of curveballs by life, but this? This is... different. Okay, that's putting it delicately: this shit's weird, as Varric would probably say. And as someone who's seen a LOT of weird shit, that's saying something. It's a lot to take in, but Relm, despite being rattled, doesn't let it show. Her usual snark hides the nervousness she's feeling at being in a new place and far away from the familiar.

At least there's a way to get back... though Maker knows how long it'll take. And honestly? She's not in much of a rush. If it weren't for Carver and her friends, scattered as they are, she probably wouldn't be inclined to go back at all. Not that she'll admit it.

With a little introduction and instructions, some money and a pat on the back to send her on her way, Relm finds herself wandering the city. Sure, she could go to her new place (ugh, communal living) but instead she winds up sitting in some grass in a quiet location, just trying to get her thoughts together. And it's then she remembers the little... phone, they called it? She could talk to a bunch of people at once with it. They even showed her how to use it.

A big mistake, as they'll all discover.

Well, if she's going to be here for Maker knows how long, might as well introduce herself and get a feel for the others here.]

Oh I do love it when life keeps reminding me that it's capable of surprising me. You'd think by now I'd have learned my lesson, but oh no. Foolish, foolish me.

[It's all said in a joking, almost laughing tone.]

Riverview. Quaint name. Not so quaint city. The ridiculously high buildings are going to take some getting used to. It's all so... clean. A laughable complaint, maybe, but well, I'm going to complain anyway.

The oh so lovely people at the gate gave me the basics, but there are a few horrendously pressing questions I do have for you lot:

One, where are the best places to drink? Two, what's the general view about mages and magic here? And three, where does one acquire... let's say art supplies? Paper or parchment, ink or charcoal, and the like? Maybe even paint if I feel so inclined.

[She almost goes to end it there, but, well, her mother didn't raise a complete barbarian.]

Oh, yes, introductions. My name is Hawke. Hopefully my reputation didn't precede me here.

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The "best" or the "most likely to accommodate me"? They aren't always one in the same.

[He chuckles, though.]

The higher floors of the community building offer a stunning view of the river for which the Quarantine is named, actually. [And he winces.] That's right, you've come from Kirkwall. Of course a Kirkwaller would complain about a city's cleanliness. "Why, this corner here doesn't reek nearly enough of piss. The gall."

[He inclines his head, though.] Dorian Pavus, as I'm sure you remember. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance when we aren't running from demons and lumbering undead.

Most likely to accommodate me and has the best booze? Interesting division there, though. Something I should know about?

[She's not sure if she's relieved or a little worried to be talking to someone she knows. Time will only tell which it should be.]

It seems my hopes of not being recognized have been dashed against the rocks. Figures. [She snorts.] I've come from Skyhold, technically, and was born and raised in Ferelden, but details. I need some mud and stench to keep going. You know, like Tevinters need hot temperatures and mild disdain for everyone else.

[But all joking aside:]

I do remember. Funny seeing you here again. It's positively tame here, compared to back home.

First, I'll need you to define the "best" booze, Hawke.

[He smiles slightly.]

Fame is its own sort of reward, you know, though I find it amusing you think most of my countrymen only harbor a mild disdain for the lot of you. You do them too much credit.

[He raises an eyebrow, but there's a smirk curling his lips.]

I believe you meant to say enchanting, seeing me again, but you're confused. I'll forgive it.

It pains me you have to even ask. [What kind of Thedosian are you, Dorian??] The kind that'll get me drunk quickest, of course. Tasting good, optional.

[At that she just barks out a laugh.]

You're telling me that? Though I don't know if I've been so lucky to really reap a lot of those rewards. Mostly just the downsides.

Oh how very kind of you, especially given that I'm such a stinky Southerner. You are the exemplar of your people.

[Not a southern barbarian. It's a Tevinter, thing, the vague superiority and feigned difference to sub-standard liquors. You wouldn't understand.]

Are you certain you're not native to Kirkwall with that sort of taste? Or is it that Fereldens are just that adaptable?

[He rolls a shoulder in a slight shrug.]

As I've been told. "The Good Tevinter". That's me.

[She considers it among one of the things in life she's glad she doesn't understand.]

Definitely adaptability. But, admittedly, I think seven years of living there certainly left its mark on me.

[The ale at the Hanged Man probably killed her taste buds good and dead.]

Oh that's just adorable.

In action, but not in attitude, or thus has my experience been.

[Seven years sounds like torture, living in Kirkwall, but Dorian at least reserves that comment.]

Sweet enough to make one vomit, certainly.

You can take the person out of Ferelden, but you can't take Ferelden out of the person.

[It's bred in the bone. Though a fair number of nations seem to look down their nose at Ferelden, so there's probably some stubborn national pride involved as well.]

Indeed. No wonder I'm feeling so nauseous at the moment.

[But now, all joking aside.]

But speaking of Ferelden: the dear Commander is being a little cryptic about something. In a very serious tone - which, admittedly, is how he always speaks - he said I needed to talk to everyone from our world in person about something I needed to know about. You have any idea what he's talking about?

Yes, it stains more deeply than a red wine, doesn't it?

[He chuckles at his own joke, and at her agreement.]

Yes, I do believe that is simply his face, Hawke, but if I were to hazard a guess as to the Commander's vague references, I would assume it has to do with chronology. Tell me, what is the last thing you remember of Thedas?

[She's going to miss the joking, because it very much sounds like they're about to have a Serious, if not Potentially Very Weird conversation in a moment. Those are... not fun.]

Well there's a question I didn't expect. I was on my way to Weisshaupt, as I told the Inquisitor. To let the Wardens know what happened in Adamant. Did she not tell everyone?

Ah, I see. [And so she is in line with what he also remembers of home. He'll miss the joking, too.] For what it's worth, I am sorry. Stroud was a friend of yours, was he not?

Something like that. More of a working relationship than a true friendship, but we were helping each other, and I owed him quite a bit for what he's done for me. [It feels like she never got to fully pay him back for any of it. He didn't deserve to die. But that hadn't been Hawke's choice.] Why did you ask what I last remembered, though? Am I missing something?

Ah, yes.

[ So many had died, but when you're fighting a war for the soul of a world, he supposed some casualties were inevitable. It didn't make their blows any less keen, of course. ]

Still, he was a good man and remained uncorrupted in the end. More than anyone can say for his fellows.

[ But on to the topic of timeline discrepancy. It was far more fascinating ~~some would say disquieting, but not Dorian~~. ]

Possibly. Well, most certainly, rather. You see, all that business at Adamant Fortress occurred two years ago, by my reckoning.

Edited 2018-07-06 11:46 (UTC)

["He didn't deserve to die" she wants to say. It's true, but the Inquisitor made her choice. Stroud knew what he was doing, as did Hawke. One of them wasn't getting out of there alive. Though all the rationalization doesn't lessen the sting.]

He was. Let's hope it wasn't all in vain.

[The Wardens better not fuck it up, or Maker help them, she's coming back and setting the lot of them on fire.

But that train of thought goes out the window when he talks again, and Hawke finds herself staring rather stupidly at him for a moment.]

Er - come again?

[ The Tevinter mage smiles at that. It's a small comfort, yes, but a cleverly worded one, and so...he can look proud.

Besides, it's rare Dorian takes anything completely seriously for long. ]

It's been two years, Hawke. And yes, it was.

[It takes an awful lot for Hawke to be completely gobsmacked. She's seen so much over the course of her life that almost nothing surprises her anymore. But here she is, completely thrown and unsure as to what to say.]

I heard you. The words individually make sense. Just not together. What do you mean - how are you two years ahead of me? [And a cold, clammy feeling settles in her chest as she considers his last words.] Why was it in vain?

01 🐦 (video; un: hawke)

video; un: d.pavus

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