romdeau | a fishing date;

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a fishing date;

There were no impromptu trips to Sundermount, in fact. Merrill had holed herself up with the Eluvian, avoiding Hawke whenever possible. The Arulin'Holm stayed at the estate, locked away somewhere, and the Dalish woman didn't want to see or hear from Hawke without good cause. Which was understandable (upsetting, but understandable), and she let Varric and Isabela take over Merrill's undertaking. They'd update her whenever possible and she was infinitely grateful, though she knew things couldn't stay that way forever. Eventually, they'd need to talk, and that would happen when Marian was good and ready. For now, she wasn't.

First on her mind was Anders and his mage underground. He would disappear for days on end, surfacing only to work in his clinic where he would refuse to go on any errands. Too busy, he'd say, occupied with his patients and his manifesto. It didn't stop him from pressing worn papers into her hands at every opportunity, the bastard. Her desk was full of Anders' scrawl, damning evidence if anyone should walk in and ask about it. She'd been certain to lock them in the bottom drawer, out of sight and out of mind, but she couldn't put him off any more than she could push aside the trouble she had with Merrill.

With her hands full of Kirkwall's smaller troubles - bandits, a few raiders on the outskirts, and a blood mage or two - she had nearly forgotten her plans with Cullen until she returned one night to a note on her desk at the end of the week. Even such a simple thing was enough to brighten her mood considerably and she packed that evening, though she wasn't to meet him for two more days.

She used the time to tell only a few that she'd be gone from the city, that no one was kidnapping her, and that she'd be very cross if she came back to find Kirkwall burning in her absence. Only Isabela and Varric gave her a hard time for her attempts at discretion, asking for details and gaining nothing.

By sunset on the second day, she was down by the docks to meet him, a pack slung over one arm and her blades across her shoulders, her eyes on the ships and the few workers lingering around. She couldn't be too careful, even now.

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"You know they will," he said, laughing at her reaction. "They have a void to fill, after all. When we attend the festival, we can skip the parties. I can think of better things to do afterward than hobnob with people who hate me."

He thought about it for a moment before nodding. "There's some cheese wrapped in cloth toward the back and a knife tucked somewhere near it. Thank you."

"You say that as though I even entertained the notion," she said, fishing for the cloth. She found it and removed it, going for the knife next. "Unless you'd desperately like to mingle with the obnoxious, I thought we'd skip all of the formalities and stuffiness."

Once she retrieved the knife, she closed the hatch and went back to him, handing over what he requested. "Gamlen told me my mother was almost married to Guillaume de Launcet before she eloped with my father." She set her apple down on the bench and stepped over to grab her tunic. "Just think: I could have been raised a spoiled little bratling in Hightown," she muttered, pulling the garment on.

"I mingle with the obnoxious regularly enough that I would love to avoid that in my down time if I could," he said. "So we're agreed. Only the fun parts, and then we make ourselves scarce to Kirkwall at large for the rest of the night."

He took the food and began unwrapping the cheese. Fortunately it wasn't a strongly scented variety, smooth and yellow beneath the wax rind. He offered her the first slice he cut. "That's a frightening thought. Have you ever met their son? He's in the Circle here. He escaped but he didn't stay gone for long. Something scared him back home."

"And you wonder why I like you. Dodging fools sounds perfect," she agreed. "And absconding from the rest of Kirkwall for the night. I like that too."

She took her seat beside him and gratefully accepted the slice of cheese he offered her. She broke it in half and popped it into her mouth, followed by a bite of apple...which she nearly choked on. "The de Launcets have magic in their bloodline?" she asked after a moment. "Is that why they were content to marry into the Amells, I wonder. But what scared their son back to the Circle? Do you know?"

"Well, I thought it was my devilishly good looks. I'm glad to hear it's something deeper," he teased.

He worked to cut himself a slice and nodded. "Yes, apparently they do. Their son Emil displayed his talents early on. I believe he was...six? Definitely young." He shook his head at the other questions. "I don't have a clue. We were looking for him when he took the ferry right into the Gallows. He turned himself in to me personally, gibbering something about being a fool but not a blood mage. Honestly, I don't think the young man has the brains for blood magic. None of us believed he needed strict punishment. With the way he was going on, he seemed to have learned his lesson."

"That is early. Even Bethany didn't begin to show signs of magic until she was closer to ten. That's a shame." Such a young age to be taken. It had her feeling sympathy towards the family, even if she didn't much like their daughters or the entitlement they had. No one deserved to have their child taken from them so young.

Oh, and the boy was an idiot. She rubbed her forehead. "What sort of foolish..." No, turning himself in was smart. She could see that. But he was most certainly everything Anders would hate in a mage. "Maker, that sounds embarrassing."

"Yes, I wasn't around here then. I don't know what it might have been like for him. At least his family was also here in Kirkwall." He more than half suspected the mother of trying to help her son. Given Meredith's attitude toward those who aided apostates these days, he hadn't pushed that investigation hard. He wasn't of the belief people deserved to die for love or stupidity.

"I'm not sure he has the social wherewithal to know how embarrassed he should have been. So you were much better off not being of de Launce stock." It was kind of a silly sentiment. She wouldn't be there at all had Leandra Amell married someone else. "Not to mention I have a hard time imagining you with an Orlesian accent."

"He could have been taken to another Circle...but I imagine coin talks for you when you're a wealthy family." Another reason why they kept running; they didn't have any social standing, nothing that would have convinced people to keep their family together or even close. Malcolm and Bethany would have gone to separate towers.

"Stock. As though I was a horse for breeding." She grinned. "I'm eternally glad my mother didn't marry into the family for just that reason. I can't even fake a good Orlesian accent. It comes out sounding like I have a toad in my nose. Highly unattractive."

"It wouldn't have if Meredith had been Knight-Commander then," he said with certainty. "But yes, you're not wrong in that when it comes to some circles. Orlais has more influence in the Marches than in Ferelden, too." It was another thing he didn't care for about the region but not something he dwelt on. He had no control or influence when it came to such things.

"Ha!" He snorted amusement. "You know very well that's not what I meant. They all sound that way, by the way. Maybe you'd fit better than you think?" He punctuated the teasing remark with a bite of cheese, looking far too satisfied with himself.

"No, I don't imagine she'd ever allow such a thing. She doesn't take kindly to underhanded bribery, from what I understand." And that was an understatement. Meredith ruled with an iron fist and she had every reason to with how violent Kirkwall was. She didn't blame her for having a low tolerance for corruption within her city, no matter how small.

"Oh, I knew exactly what you meant." Hawke nudged him with a faint grimace. "An Orlesian noble with long hair and frilly skirts, and with a penchant for the depraved? I've heard rumors about what some Orlesians do in their spare time. I'll proudly stay a filthy doglord, thank you."

"Not in the least." If there was a bit of pride in his statement, it could perhaps be forgiven. It was one of the things he admired the most about his commanding officer. Regardless of what one could say about her methods, her honor was unimpeachable.

"I have a harder time seeing you with long hair than in a frilly skirt," he said, tilting his head slightly. No, it just wasn't her, something she'd have to fuss with or run the risk of it getting in the way. As for depravity, he decided the better part of valor would be to skip right over that. "I happen to like filthy doglords. There are far worse things you could be, like a de Launce."

Hawke nodded as she bit into her apple. She didn't begrudge him his pride. Meredith was good at her job and she would never say otherwise. Her attitude and actions towards mages were her troubling points.

"That's because I wear skirts sometimes. Armored ones. I can't remember the last time I let my hair grow out." And she probably wouldn't. Her mother used to comment on how she looked so much like her father. She wouldn't admit the pride that came with that statement nor would she ever believe it was her sole reason for doing so. It really would just be easier to manage with how short it was now. "As do I. And I might feel differently had I been born in Kirkwall to their family, so it all works out in the end.

"Where have I been when you were in an armored skirt?" he asked, still teasing. He thought back on the times he had seen her in the Gallows, now sorry he hadn't paid more attention to that sort of thing.

"No doubt you would. You'd be proud and enjoying getting in on those parties we're going to work to avoid. Much better this way, I'd say. Imagine if I had been born here? I wouldn't realize what a good opportunity I had been given when you approached me." He cut another piece of the cheese to chew, contemplating grabbing himself another ale.

She laughed. "Too busy doing your job? I don't know if I've ever worn one around you. It's a little silly to be wearing armored skirts in a mine or in the city." She wore whatever she needed to until the expedition. She didn't have the coin for a full wardrobe.

"Flatterer." It earned him a smirk and a bit of pink on her neck. "We would both be looking down our noses at our countrymen and we wouldn't give each other another glance. Unless, of course, I'd been born with magic." And that wouldn't have been the sort of attention she wanted. "Much better this way, I agree. Besides, Ferelden is a better place to grow up in."

"That's likely. Or I could pretend to take the high road and say I just look at your face when you come talk to me." That was a good enough story that he thought he's stick to it even if pressed. He stood to fetch himself the ale, the boat rocking a little with his steps.

"That's...a very realistic assessment on all counts." He shook the bottle slightly and held it out, silent query as to whether she wanted one, too. "I'm glad I grew up in Ferelden. There are certainly worse places to live than Denerim as a child."

Isabela had made a comment or two of that nature in passing once. "You do look at my face when we're speaking. When I walk away is a different story." Two could play at that game. She stretched out when he stood and took another bite of her food. "I might have imagined you out of armor once or twice when we talk."

She nodded when he offered her an ale and she stood to take it. "Or Lothering. All things considered, I think I lucked out." There were worse situations to be in. "We could be living in Darktown."

Then it's the back of your head," he said. He might have managed to escape flush free had she not added that last bit. "Now I'll be wondering what you're really thinking the next time we're discussing the latest crisis of the day in the Gallows." Now she also knew what he looked like under the armor.

He passed off the ale and retrieved himself another bottle. "All it would have taken were slightly different circumstances." The teasing light left his eyes. "I considered leaving the order when I was in Greenfell. If I had, I would have arrived in Kirkwall as a refugee, not a Templar. There are people here who count Darktown a lucky find. A scrap of cloth on which they can lay their head."

Edited 2012-09-14 00:15 (UTC)

That blush was terribly endearing. She'd need to remember not to force it too often or he might start cottoning on to her mild tricks. She smiled innocently when he turned back to her "Oh, Cullen. If we lock eyes, you won't need to wonder what I'm thinking. You'll know."

She stopped on her way back to the bench, turning back. "You almost left the order?" It was surprising but...could he be blamed for wanting to, after what he'd gone through? Would anyone have wanted to stay in a position that invoked terrible memories time after time? "I can't imagine it, honestly. And even if you ended up as a refugee, I have a hard time believing you wouldn't be doing something. Maybe you'd be Champion instead of me." Her smile was small and crooked. "When you weren't trying to get Anders arrested, anyway."

"Maker help me now," he laughed. He had been the recipient of enough of her smoldering looks tonight to know he didn't have a prayer if she started that with him in the Gallows. "You'll have me looking for excuses to take long lunch breaks. It's all downhill from there."

He nodded. "I was feeling...pretty low. Gregoir made it clear that he viewed me as a liability when he sent me to get some 'rest'. I wondered if he wasn't right. But I guess I'm more stubborn than that." He worked the cork free of his bottle and tossed it over the side. "Without lyrium? No. I'd have wound up begging dust if I survived the withdrawals. I'm almost sure of it." He took a long swallow of his ale. He resisted the urge to return to the topic of Anders. She knew how he felt and what his concerns were. Anything more would be excessive.

She couldn't contain the laughter bubbling up. She chuckled, grateful she wasn't drinking. "Oh, it won't be so bad at first. I'll go easy on you. I'll come along in that armored skirt one day when you're least expecting it, though. It's all downhill from that point."

A twist of her hand freed the cork from her own drink and she sipped it while he spoke. "I suppose we would have met eventually, sooner or later." The frightening part of that, though, was that she was nearly certain she would have at least tried to take him in like she had with her other companions, even if she hadn't the foggiest idea how to deal with lyrium addiction. "It's strange to say I'm grateful you're a Templar," she said thoughtfully, frowning briefly at her drink. She'd been glad before that he'd been around the Gallows, certainly, but saying it under new context brought a different weight to the words.

"I'll know that's the day to expect trouble," he said, eyes still twinkling amusement. "The moment I see the skirt."

He nodded. There was a good chance she was right. She'd have run into him in Lowtown or Darktown. He probably would have found himself begging coin off of her. There was a depressing thought. "I bet it is given our history." He returned to take a seat and stretched his legs out in front of him. "I'm glad I didn't make a stupid decision at a low point. I think all of us have at least one of those moments in our lives, when paths could diverge widely."

"I agree with you. All of us have those moments at some point." She'd seen it in Isabela's eyes when she wanted to run with the relic, in Varric's when he found Bartrand again. And she'd thought, briefly, about leaving Kirkwall after her mother died. She could have left everything behind.

"I don't know if it would have been a stupid decision if you'd have left," she said, turning to him. "It certainly wouldn't have been a fortuitous decision...but you were understandably still hurting from what happened in Ferelden. I don't think anyone would have faulted you for leaving, had you chosen to."

"There wasn't anyone left to care one way or the other except Gregoir. At the time all I saw was his judgment because it so mirrored my own. It's only later in my career that I've come to understand his point of view and that there was likely far less contempt than I imagined and far more concern." He glanced at her. "I think it would have been stupid given the alternative."

He leaned against the mast, twisting one boot toe this way and that in a flex of ankle and calf muscles. "I'll always be grateful to Meredith for believing in me when I couldn't. Despite difficulties she has been a good mentor. A friend in a place I expected none."

It was difficult to reconcile her view of Meredith with Cullen's when he spoke highly of her. The respect he had paralleled hers easily, but she was also aware of Meredith's harsher hand when it came to mages. For his sake, she kept her opinion to herself, though it wasn't difficult for her to at least feel grateful that the Knight-Commander had been there for Cullen. Even if there was nothing between them, it was still kind of her to look after a fellow countryman and decent Templar, especially in his time of need.

She nodded as she nursed her drink. "She means a great deal to you." As both a friend and an ally in a city that was probably hostile to him. "How quickly were you promoted to Knight-Captain after you arrived? I had only been in Kirkwall a year, myself, when I met you and you'd already had the position."

"She does. In many ways she is exactly what I believe a Templar should be, and if she exceeds her reach in some respects, I can forgive her the failing given what I know." He rolled his bottle slowly between his hands. It was getting more difficult to say that with conviction. Although his faith in her had taken a battering of late, it still held.

He looked down at the planks between his feet. "I've heard my rise in the Kirkwall ranks described as meteoric. It's...not an exaggeration. I...questioned...the wisdom of it, openly. You've met her." He glanced at her. "When she's insistent, it's difficult to argue. She knew she wasn't promoting a yes man, but she also knew that I understood her position and would do what it took to shore it. She said my experiences had tempered me, not broken me."

He lifted his head then and met her gaze. "She was right. I had my share of naysayers in the ranks. Some went so far as to accuse me of sleeping my way to my office." He pressed his lips together. "Meredith didn't quell those rumors or doubts. I did. I don't think I could have without knowing she believed in me that strongly. When someone like Meredith believes in you? What's doubt?" He chuffed a soft sound.

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so. um. head's up: I might be losing internet at home.

Oh no! :( I'll still play with tagging at whatever pace you need to go if you're able.

You're sweet. :( We'll see what the status is when I actually get home.

I'll keep my fingers crossed for you. Sorry you have to deal with this. :(

Thanks!

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So far so good! We'll see what happens tomorrow, though.

I'll cross my toes, too!

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