romdeau | a fishing date;

Making the arrangements hadn't been difficult. Cullen's friend with the crab traps was all too happy to lend him a few, pleased to know that he was taking a little time off. The skiff rental also went smoothly. He would never call himself a sailor by any stretch. Handling a small boat with a single sail and oars was different. As long as they weren't hit by any nasty weather, he felt confident. If they were, the Wounded Coast had so many inlets he didn't doubt they could put ashore until it blew over.

The hardest part was getting the time off. It wasn't that Meredith was reluctant to give it to him. It was questions from his co-workers and friends, how he never took time off, and what was really going on? It wasn't until he hauled some rancid fat from the Gallow's kitchen in a small tub and stank up half the barracks that they bought the story about crabbing and left him alone.

He had the skiff packed with food and ale for them, the traps, the bait, cooking gear and dry wood just in case, and a few personal supplies as well as his sword and shield in the dry well. He spotted her on the wharf and smiled and waved to her from the boat. "I was just finishing up down here. Anything you don't want wet? Hand it down, and I'll tuck it away."

She smiled as she caught sight of him, wandering down to the boat. One last look around, ever wary, was all she needed before she threw caution to the wind. "Just this, really," she said, pulling off her small bag and handing it to him. "Careful, there's a few breakables in there." A potion or two, for safekeeping, and a bottle of Antivan brandy from Isabela; a gift for not being too angry over the Qunari incident. She'd mention she had it later. The only other things inside were an extra blade, some new clothes, and some food. Belatedly, realizing she still had them on, she shrugged off the twin blades she carried on her back and handed them over as well.

Hawke spared the skiff a glance over, quietly impressed. She'd ask him about his contact another time, instead arching an eyebrow at him. "I'm surprised you got everything together so quickly." Even if he'd said he would, she half-expected things to crop up. The Gallows were never quiet, after all.

He took the things as she handed them to him, stowing them in the small compartment in such a way that if they hit any rough water nothing would get jostled too badly. Just to be sure, he stuck his hand in and tried to shift it all. Satisfied, he battened the small hatch and straightened. "I've had almost a full week. It would be sad if I couldn't get some crab traps and a boat in that amount of time in a port."

He had already given the rigging a once over with the boat owner present. Everything was where it should be. All that remained was to untie the mooring and shove off. "Are you ready, then? If so, if you wouldn't mind getting the rope from that front cleat, I'll get the rear one here."

"You could always have been on assignment, you know. Or out investigating off the coast." And she was grateful that he was not, though the same could have been said for her. All it took was a day's journey outside of the city and being way-laid by storms or whatever terrible luck her group sometimes had. She thanked the Maker things worked out for the better in this case.

Hawke nodded in compliance and stepped from the dock onto the skiff, her attention immediately going to the rope he spoke of. She slipped the small noose free from its tie and rolled it up onto the boat. "All yours, Captain," she said, smiling over her shoulder at him.

"No. I told them unless the Gallows was burning down, I didn't want to hear about anything else. Since it's stone, I thought the odds were in my favor that way." He was likely teasing. Shirking wasn't a habit of his, for social plans or any other reason.

He untied the loops from the back and coiled the rope, pushing off from the dock with his hand first and then settling on the bench to take up the oars. Another shove with an oar had them moving on a heading out toward open water. "I plan to clear the shipping lanes and then hug the coast. My friend told me of a good spot to the south for the crabs."

The waves lapped against the sides in a gentle chop, loud enough that the sound of the oars wasn't all that noticeable. "There's a lantern already lit but turned low up near the bow. When we lose sunlight, we should hang it off the prow. It'll hopefully keep us from getting overrun by anything bigger out here with us."

"What a coincidence. That's exactly what I told the others." And she'd make good on her promise to beat them senseless if she came back with any part of it in untoward danger. "But you're right, things should be perfectly fine without us." There was a hint of a smirk there. "Provided no one sneezes or coughs in our absence."

Hawke steadied her footing, curiously looking over one side of the boat. It wasn't dark enough for them to need to make use of the light just yet, thankfully, but it would be before too long. She nodded. "If we're keeping to the coast, I should hope we wouldn't encounter that sort of problem." They couldn't be too careful, she supposed, though she hoped they'd be easy to spot if they spotted any other ships out.

She turned back to him. "Can I help with anything?" She'd be restless before long and the last thing she wished to be was useless on this trip. She hadn't been fishing or boating in Maker knows how long but she could still assist with direction.

"Oh, no. No sneezing or coughing allowed, by order of the Knight-Captain," he deadpanned. "I take it you like to have an active hand in things not going wrong in your arena?" If it was so, they were alike in that respect.

"I'd hope not, too, but even a small sailboat could give us an upset if we had a direct collision." If he had learned anything living in Kirkwall, it was that no precaution was too much of a precaution when it came to being in a boat in the Waking Sea.

"For now, no. When it gets dark, I'm going to need you to keep a sharp eye at the prow. We won't have too much warning from the lamp when it comes to rocks and such. At the first sign of anything like that, I'll need you to shout directions, left or right." He wasn't a sailor. In a pinch, port and starboard would just confuse him, possibly enough that they'd be on a rock before he could correct their course. "I'm hoping once we're out of the harbor, we'll have enough wind for the sail." The boat was small enough that it would only take one of them to tack and control the rudder.

"It's usually the opposite, I think. Just when I think I'm solving problems, I end up being one." She smiled. "But I like it better when I know just what's causing the upset in town instead of hearing about it the following morning."

It shouldn't come to them making a collision, she hoped. But once night fell, that was another story.

She cast a wary glance out at the open water, frowning to herself. "I probably should have asked Isabela for tips about boats," she muttered lightly. Port, starboard... Just words to her. Isabela would scold her for being so ignorant. But then the pirate would have known for certain and she probably would have run into her. What a mess that would be. "I can handle directions, I hope. And if anything happens, I'll blame it on the wind. Or the rocks."

"I think the polite thing for me to say would be I have a hard time imagining that, but...I prefer honesty." He laughed. "I can all too easily see you being the stir stick from time to time."

He didn't realize he was having thoughts along a similar line to hers, that if she had asked Isabela about boats, chances were they would have run into her at the docks, or worse not run into her only to be caught at the crab hole. "You can blame me, too. I suppose I could have planned things better than an evening trip. It's just I hear that's when you catch the most crabs."

He was enjoying the rowing so far. The water was calm enough that he wasn't having to fight to make headway, and the sunset behind them had the water reflecting it back in a display better than anything he could have actively planned. He thought it would be nicer yet when they made it beyond the fish and foundry stench of the harbor.

"How was your week by the way? Any unexpected diversions?"

"If you're worried about offending my sensibilities, don't be." She laughed with him. "The stir stick. That's a new one. Think I could use that as an excuse the next time something happens?"

Hawke waved him off. This trip was more about the blind leading the blind, the two of them doing this, made worse that they were trying to be secretive. "I'm not going to blame you. If that's when it's best, then that's simply how it is. Besides, it'd be easier for us to be out at night and at dawn then it would be to catch crabs in the sun." Even walking the Wounded Coast on a day with cloud cover usually meant overheating by the time they'd reached their destination. By that point, even the caves with their spiders were a welcome reprieve for a short time.

She made herself comfortable, finding a place to half-sit, half-lean while he rowed. It gave her a good view of where they were going without diverting her attention completely from him. The slow rock of the boat was calming, more so than she expected it to be.

"Oh, it was mostly uneventful. The usual." At least they weren't fighting Qunari. That was what mattered. "What of you? Anything interesting going on in the Gallows?"

"Good to know. At least I'm not in armor, so if you do take offense and fling me overboard I won't sink like a stone." He pretended to give the question some thought. "You could possibly make a title out of it. Find a symbol of the office, and when something starts, proclaim yourself the official stir stick. What could go wrong?"

He nodded agreement for that. "The curse of the fair skinned. Doomed to fishing at night." He was lucky his armor covered as much as it did.

"'The usual' for you can be anything from blood mage cults to plots to destroy the city. Did you ever make it over to the Bone Pit?" He put his back into the strokes to get them facing the wake from a Galleon not too far away. The boat rocked more in the higher waves. "There were two harrowings this week. Both thankfully passed." It would always be nerve wracking, wondering if a mage would awaken an abomination, if they had lost yet another.

"Now, you shouldn't have mentioned that. Now I might shove you in for the fun of it, since I know you won't sink." She grinned widely. "In that case, I'll be certain to use it every chance I get when looking for a real job. 'Yes, Knight-Commander, I'd like to be Viscount. I'm a real stir stick when it comes to trouble. Don't worry, Kirkwall is safe in my hands!'" She chuckled softly. "Any guesses how long it would be before she dumped me out on my arse for something like that?"

She set a hand over her heart as though dismayed. "Tragedy, really. But we wouldn't want either of us to bake to a crisp. If you came back to Kirkwall as red as a boiled crab, you'd be in for some terrible teasing."

But he was right, unfortunately. She tried to shrug it off leisurely. "And it wasn't, this week. I checked in on the mine and cleared out a few spiders, a dragonling or two. I swear they're multiplying somewhere under the rocks." Varric suggested she get rid of the bloody thing before it killed someone or, worse, herself. She lifted her head, nodding. "Good. That's good." Harrowings were infamous for her, mostly because of her father's talk, and she'd been terrified for Bethany until she heard she passed. "Were you...presiding over them?"

"That's no good. I'd probably tip over the skiff trying to get back aboard. I might even do it on purpose." His eyes lit with a teasing light. "If you intend to say that to Meredith, please wait until I'm there. I want to see her expression. It's a safe bet to say the interview would be over right then but worth it."

His mouth quirked to the side. "One of the perks of rank, you rarely get teased even when it's well deserved. They'd save it for behind my back."

He wouldn't be at all surprised if the dragons were multiplying. If they had an infestation, there could be a larger one lurking somewhere within the depths. "Be careful with that. I've never heard of a case where there were that many young and not a big, nasty mother somewhere nearby."

They were finally faced into the wake, the bobbing settling down again and a little salt spray breaking over the prow. "No, that's not one of my duties anymore. I have to decide who presides." That was no better a task as far as he was concerned, either being one who might have to cut another down or being the one to set another to the task. He always felt responsible when things went wrong. "We've been lucky lately. We haven't had any fail since last year."

She smirked. "I'll need to restrain myself for the trip, then." But if she remembered when they returned, and if no one was watching, she might just shove him in to see what would happen. Settling her back against her seated place, she smiled. "All right, I'll wait. But admit it: you just want to see if she'll have me escorted out or if she'd kick me down the steps herself."

Thoughtful, she crossed her arms over her chest. "We killed a large dragon before, back a few years ago. I would have thought that was the mother, but..." No, it wasn't big enough, she supposed. She sighed. "It wouldn't hurt looking into it. I was really hoping that wasn't the issue, though." To ease the worry off of her face, she smirked. "Dragon blood is so hard to get out of clothes." She wasn't ready to ask her companions for another trip into that hole. Not yet.

"You...decide? How does that work? You pick the most able-bodied Templar and have them oversee the mage personally during their Harrowing?" Maybe that was too much information to be sharing with someone outside of the Gallows, but Hawke wasn't one to quell her curiosity.

She gave him a frown of sympathy when he mentioned what happened before. "I can't imagine it. I was concerned when Bethany went to the Circle but I knew she'd be all right." For the most part. But if something had happened, all hell might have broken loose. They wouldn't have a Champion in their city.

"Yes. If you want a swimming trip, I would not recommend the Waking Sea. Considering most of the coastline is nothing but jagged, sharp rocks, it would be a briefly memorable but sadly short date." He had heard of nice beaches in Rivain and found them a little difficult to imagine given what he had to work with. "Oh, she'd never stoop. She'd make me do it." He flashed a quick grin.

The grin faded at the dragon talk. "If you still have young ones boiling up, it's a good possibility. Or rather a bad one. Stock up on the healing potions if you start digging."

He shook his head slightly. "No, not exactly. If there are recruits nearing their Vigil, at least one of them is assigned. I try to make sure to balance them with others who have experience dealing with abominations but who aren't hot heads or excessively prejudiced against mages. I also try to be sure that I keep people who are friends or friendly acquaintances out of it. Too much sentiment in either direction can cloud judgment, endanger the mage, and endanger other Templars. It's more of a balancing act than it seems on the surface."

His look grew a little distant for a moment before he seemed to come back to the present. "I served during your cousin's harrowing. It was my final test before my Vigil. She made it through with flying colors."

Yes, definitely avoiding any impromptu pushing into the water. She'd remember that. "Would you drag me out by my ear, Knight-Captain? Or would you be doubled over on the floor, laughing with me?" One day, maybe she wouldn't push authority too much. One day.

"I'll keep that in mind." And she'd bring Anders for good measure. The last time they'd gone in after dragons, she'd brought Merrill...and that wasn't overly helpful when they were all covered in claw marks.

Endanger the mage or endanger the other Templars. It was disappointing that she knew of only two Templars off the top of her head - excluding him - that might be considered fair in their judgement. And one of them was dead. Emeric, despite his suspicions, would have given them a fair chance. Perhaps she didn't know as many Templars as she should but gave her a pretty clear idea of how difficult it was for Cullen, not counting what he would have to do should a mage fail their Harrowing. "Do the Templars assigned to the task speak with the families? Or does that fall to you, too?"

Surprise washed over her face and she sat up straighter, immediately at attention. "You were at her... Really?" It was a small, small world after all. Stupid; she should have realized it when he mentioned he knew an Amell once. He hadn't always been in Kirkwall. "And that was just before your Vigil?" What was that, five, maybe six years ago? She smiled. "I didn't realize you knew her personally."

"Would laughing on the inside count while I was dragging you out?" he asked, stifling his smile. "We could share a look, and I'd get to keep my job."

They were nearing the mouth of the harbor, the straights that would take them out into the wider sea and give them access to the coast. Fortunately, no large ships were inbound or outbound, giving them a clear shot. "I...suppose I could assign them to that. I usually don't. The Knight-Commander writes the letter of condolence, and I deliver it. I believe the least we can do for the families is use the rank to let them know it matters to us. Sending a Lieutenant or someone lower in rank doesn't seem right for that."

He smiled faintly, a little surprised by her reaction. He could have sworn he had told her about that, but thinking back on it, he couldn't recall how specific he might have been at the time. "Yes, really. I wasn't yet a Knight, although I became one shortly after. "I don't know how personally you might say. Templars and mages at Kinloch Hold were discouraged from closely fraternizing. We did talk occasionally, though." Enough for him to get attached. The vagaries of youth. He shook his head, his expression a little wry.

"I could live with that. I wouldn't want you to lose your position over something I did, anyway, especially when it's as asinine as calling myself a stir stick for trouble." She lifted an eyebrow, still grinning.

The smirk quickly faltered and she shook her head. "I wasn't suggesting that. I... I don't think it would be right either. I didn't know how it worked, though." But that still meant he was delivering the bad news to families who had already thought their child or sibling had been carted off to a cruel fate. "I wouldn't wish that duty on newer recruits or you. Or anyone." The worst jobs she'd done involved telling people that their friends or loved ones were dead. She still remembered the incident with the women and Quentin.

"I never met her. Or...I might have, but I must have been young." Her lips twisted thoughtfully. They'd been running for so long that there was no way she could have met Solona before she'd been taken to the tower. "No, I couldn't have. You knew her better than I did, regardless." Hawke gave him a curious look, leaning forward. "What was she like?"

"Then if it ever comes to pass, we'll do that. I'll make a dramatic show of dragging you out, and once our backs are to her, I'll wink." It was such a ridiculous notion it felt safe to contemplate. He didn't think he'd ever be in that position. Hawke was smarter than that.

"It's one of my least favorite parts of the job." It was as equally unpleasant as what started it all off, barging into someone's home and taking their child by force when they weren't willing to bring them to the Circle on their own. He had heard every accusation under the sun, some of them that hit home. They promised mages would be safer in the Circle. It was often true but not always. No Templar could truly give such a guarantee, no mage a binding promise that they'd never succumb. It was the unfortunate truth of it.

He realized he had grown too quiet for too long and rallied at her question. Fortunately, he didn't have to force a change of demeanor, even if the memories would forever be tainted by what came afterward. "Impulsive and headstrong. Loyal to her friends to a fault, although I have a hard time looking upon such a quality as a flaw. It did more harm to her than to anyone else. It was how she was conscripted. I didn't find out until after the fact. They were gone by then." The next time he had seen her, he was caged and said some terrible things. He regretted that part to this day.

"She wasn't unlike you in that respect. It must run in the family."

She couldn't help the laugh that escaped her. It was too ridiculous to ever go through, but Maker knows it still sounded fun.

"I don't blame you. I can't imagine it." She couldn't even imagine coming home to tell her own mother when one of her siblings was injured at any point, to say nothing of others. She remembered he once said that people would just as soon slam a door in his face than put him up for the night. The Templars were feared and reviled almost as much as mages themselves. It was so different from Ferelden in that respect, though she was certain the Gallows and their statues of slaves had a bit to do with the Templars' image.

Solona Amell sounded like too many people in her family. She thought of her father first, strangely enough, though she smiled when he compared her to her cousin. "Oh, it's a family trait. Amells are known for their impulsiveness and stubborn streaks. We either rise to become Champions or squander away our family's estate," she said wryly. "Mages and Wardens and Champions."

"It never gets easier." Not that he believed that it should. If it ever became easy to tell a family they had lost a loved one, it was past time for him to retire and give the mantle to someone less jaded.

"Fortunately for Thedas she's more the champion sort than the squanderer." He knew enough of Gamlen Amell to find it hard to believe the man was related to Hawke and her sister, to Solona more distantly. However, he had better manners than to speak ill of the man unprovoked.

"At any rate, I couldn't really say I know her now at all. We haven't spoken in years. I can't imagine that her time with the Wardens hasn't changed her tremendously. I can't envision any reason she'd have for coming to Kirkwall any time soon." He chuckled and shrugged off the darker thoughts. They were the product of another time, a time that had little bearing on what they were doing now.

"Unfortunately." And she hoped, as he did, that it never would. She would never want to be flippant with family members, at ease with giving them news like that. "But it always falls to you."

She chuckled. "Oh, I've no doubt. It was almost laughable, hearing that the Blight was ended by an Amell." She had almost been afraid of her mother wanting to go home for that reason alone, after she and Bethany had been clawing through their servitude to get to where they were. "It must be Amell women, I think. I can't speak highly of the men, not when I only have my uncle to go on."

Her cousin in Kirkwall. That would be a sight. A mage Grey Warden, sweeping in to see her long lost family in the Free Marches. Oh, she could almost imagine Meredith's face. That would be even better than a comment about being a rabble-rouser. "...If she didn't come with the other Wardens when Kirkwall was attacked, then I hesitate to think what could bring her here." She was in a position of authority now, or so she heard. A shame; Hawke wanted to meet her one day.

"Meredith and I. She takes no pleasure in writing those letters." He knew why. Sometimes it was difficult not being able to say something that would mitigate the harsh opinions and help others to understand. He knew she wouldn't thank him for it, would view it as a violation of her confidence. So he stayed silent and in turn didn't hold it against others when they saw only what she allowed. That stoicism of hers was a double edged sword.

"It's funny hearing that from the Champion of Kirkwall." He was teasing her, yes, but there was respect behind the light tone, something deep seated in his eyes when he glanced her way. "It shouldn't be such a surprise. I suppose during that time you didn't yet know what you could do."

His smile canted toward something more abstract. "Maybe desire to see family? The Wardens don't allow much of that, though, from what I understand." He doubted she knew he was there at all, probably for the best. There would be nothing to say beyond an awkward, I'm sorry.

The glow of the water faded away to slate shadow as the sun fell behind the skyline of Kirkwall. He could feel the wind beginning to turn, blowing from land toward the sea. It was time to hoist the small sail. He stood and moved to do it while he had the light to see.

"Yes, the both of you, carrying that weight." Both respect and sympathy mingled in her tone, even if she'd never breathe a word of it to Meredith. The Knight-Commander could be cold when she wanted to be, but she didn't deserve that burden any more than he did. She needed to remember that the other woman was a person, too, and not just a fearsome title.

She moved to go secure the lantern, casting him a wry glance over her shoulder. "I had very little choice in the matter, if you'll recall. And I'm almost certain that her victory was much more dignified than mine." Slaying dragons was also more impressive than fending off rampaging Qunari by skirting around pillars. "My family has a very nasty habit of stumbling into things and getting involved."

Hawke cast her eyes out to the water, watching it shrewdly while he worked. "I suppose it'd be nice to meet her. We could compare embarrassing stories and scars, even," she teased. "But I think I would have to go back to Ferelden to do so." And that wasn't in the cards. Not right then, not with Bethany in the Gallows.

"If not us then someone else. It's the way it has been for centuries now. In the face of that, I find it difficult to complain," he said. He hadn't specifically set out for that duty or for many others that had befallen him. The young recruits never put that much thought into such things, nor did they have that much knowledge of what it entailed. He didn't think he'd have chosen any differently, nonetheless.

"Dignified?" That earned a soft snort of a laugh. "Show me any fight to the death where anyone has the luxury of being dignified, and I'll show you a dreadfully overbalanced fight that probably should never have happened in the first place." Maybe dragons swallowed people down their gullets with dignity. For the rest of them it was the mad scramble, the rush of adrenaline, skill, timing, and often dumb luck. "You did what needed to be done. If anyone there has a problem with how you looked, I certainly haven't heard it."

He had the sail run up and trimmed with just a little fumbling, then headed to the back of the boat to take a seat and set a hand to the tiller. With the direction of the wind, he didn't think he'd need to do much tacking until they wanted to find the inlet his friend had told him about. "You know, it's really not much of a trip between Kirkwall and Amaranthine. Maybe a week full round. I don't know if she's still there. That was the last I had heard. I imagine if you wrote the castellan of Vigil's Keep you could find out for certain."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject