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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"Fereldans owning a pleasure boat? What is this world coming to?" He had to admit he was enjoying the absurdity of the idea. He wouldn't have the first clue what it took to maintain a vessel. He imagined it would sink into the harbor after the first winter. If they were very lucky, it wouldn't be while they were on it.

"Ohhh! Ohhhh, I see. Sore at you." He nodded sagely. "That's completely different. If I deserved it, I'd probably be grateful. I don't think anyone likes me enough to hit me." His eyes danced with his teasing. "No one ever does it, unless you count the people trying to kill me, and that's also a separate issue. Either I'm much better behaved than I think I am, or I'm just not that popular."

She covered her face with her hands in some vain effort to keep herself from laughing. It didn't work. "A pleasure boat. I'm absolutely certain my mother just rolled over in her grave." She was grinning when she removed her hands, a little pink. "Even I didn't think of it that way." Or of calling it that, actually.

"Having enemies who want you dead just shows how much character you have." She smiled. "And you're still here. That's a point in your favor. But that's getting off topic." With a teasing grin and a shrug, she settled herself back just slightly. "Let's go with good behavior. That, or it might be the armor. It's a rather daunting obstacle when one starts contemplating hitting you."

I, ah...didn't mean it in that context," he said quickly, his eyes wide. "Oh, Maker's breath." He didn't have the freedom to cover his face, both hands occupied. He did lift his hand briefly from the tiller to rub it down the side of his cheek. "More like...oh, you know! Those crafts the wealthy parade up and down the coastline for their jaunts and then grouse when raiders take them away."

He chuckled then, relieved to move to the next topic. "Armor. That's a perfectly good reason. I should have thought of that, myself. So if I ever decide to misbehave with you, I should be sure to do it in full plate."

"Yes. That's what you meant." She stifled her laughter long enough to keep to the topic at hand, to spare them both the embarrassment of lingering too long on pleasure boats and Marchers. "I might just take it as a personal challenge to see if I can get past your defenses," she said. She'd fought Templars before. It took some careful maneuvering, finding the very small places where a good strike could be given. She was certain she could surprise him. The words were out of her mouth before she realized a second meaning that could be found in them.

With a pleased smile, she looked back up at the sail. "I haven't laughed this much in a long time." Or smiled, she realized belatedly. Really smiling, not the look she gave enemies. It was a depressing thought, one she shoved aside. It was too nice of an evening to waste on those things. She looked back at him. "Thank you."

The double meaning wasn't lost on him. He pursed his lips slightly and decided to give an equally ambiguous answer. "Well, you know what they say. Failure isn't defeat until you stop trying. It's not really serious until I put my helmet on."

He was pleased to hear it. It was true for him, too. He hadn't relaxed with someone and let his guard down that much in a long time. "You should laugh more. It's a nice one. Infectious." He inclined his head slightly. "My pleasure. Thank you, too. We wouldn't be here if you hadn't approached me."

"So is it a good thing I don't take failure as an option?" she asked, her smile faint. "...I've never seen you with your helmet on. Does it have the wings on the side?" As if to emphasize her point, she stuck both pointer fingers in the air beside her head, her lips curling in amusement. "Or do you have the simpler model?"

She rolled her eyes. "Let's pretend I approached you with something a little less...lewd than what I actually said. If I'd flustered you enough, we might not actually be here." And wouldn't that be a shame was what should have followed, but the words stuck, a little too forward for the moment. She'd say it again another time.

"I don't know," he said. "I guess that depends on where you hit me." Still with the subtext. He found he enjoyed that more than he would have thought. He was usually much more straightforward. "Plain. No wings to catch sword edges and the like. Just very...plain and functional." Her pantomime had him chuckling.

"No, no. I'm not pretending any such thing. That's a story to tell down the line. I'm not sure to whom yet, but someone will appreciate it once the secret is out." He was teasing her now. He had no intention of embarrassing either one of them that way.

There was curiosity in her gaze, though it was mostly drowned in the mirth apparent as well. "I can be very persistent. I'm sure I'll find the right spot," she said simply. She tilted her head, looking at him closely. "Yes, I can't imagine you with that sort of helmet. Are they for decorative purposes or do they actually have a purpose?" It was hard to imagine that they would, but perhaps it made the bearer look a little more menacing?

She chuckled, settling her hands over her stomach. "The tale of how the Knight-Captain was accosted by the Champion in the middle of the Gallows and managed to walk away unscathed." She was certain she could feel her ears burning up.

"For some reason I don't doubt that at all," he said, shaking his head slightly. He didn't know if he was more amused at her or himself. It was so strange heading down a path he hadn't even known about three weeks ago.

"Intimidation. Purely psychological, but it has its drawbacks with certain fighting styles. I wore one in training. We all...were enamored with the thought of looking the part, of course." He snickered at the memory. "My field training officer lodged a war ax at the the side where the metal swept up, gave a yank, and turned the helmet sideways on my head. I never wore another one like it, and I never will unless there's nothing better in a pinch."

He grinned wickedly. "That's how the tale starts, but we can't forget the part where you're persistent."

Her expression shifted from something akin to amusement and horror at his tale. She laughed quietly. "And yet another reason why I wouldn't be a Templar. Maker, that's frightening. All to prove a point" It was just the sort of thing people would whisper about in some foolish attempt to scare one another and to put the Order in a bad light. The headpieces would only serve to fuel the rumors that these people were to be feared. "They do look...over the top, though. I had guessed they were to frighten people." Liked some kind of armored monster sent to punish apostates. It was a clever design.

"My persistence that finally won you over long enough for a lovely dinner and a boating trip." She laughed again, shaking her head. "I don't know who you'd impress with such a tale, frankly. Varric would tell you it was too simple and needed more giant sea creatures. Or raiders."

"In the end, we're all still rather simple creatures," he said. "Make us look big and scary in a threatening situation, and it's all the worse." It wasn't so very different from the symbol of the flaming sword. He knew usually the sight of that alone was enough to get hearts thumping with anxiety.

"That's only because I'd keep the most juicy parts to myself." His eyes danced with mirth. "We can always claim we saw a giant crab, but it got away."

"I imagine it would work out in your favor until someone conjured up a lightning spell." And with those little wing protrusions, all the easier to turn a Templar into their personal conducting rod. "Otherwise, I'm sure you all would cast very frightening shadows on the wall of some alley in Lowtown. Very intimidating."

She grinned broadly. "We didn't have the equipment to wrangle it, sad to say. Maybe next time."

"That's what the lyrium is for," he said, smiling faintly. Some seemed to think they paid a large price for their resistances and immunities. He might have been tempted to agree had he not known for a fact it was one of the only things that saved his life on more occasions than he cared to recount.

"Almost tipped the boat and took us with it. It's a miracle we escaped with our lives. It looked like it was after the other crabs in one of the traps. Cannibalistic bugger. Creepy." He met her grin with his own.

She shook her head slowly, an incredulous look on her face. Ever since the mess with Bartrand, she didn't want to have anything to do with lyrium. What the idol had done to one dwarf was enough to leave anyone with misgivings for its uses, for good or ill. She held her tongue about it for the moment; Cullen didn't need to hear about it just yet. He knew the dangers of lyrium well enough, after all. "Brave. It's a reason why I avoid metal plate. I don't have the resistance in any way. No one wants a burnt-to-a-crisp Hawke."

Shifting, she leaned forward. "You know they do sometimes eat other crabs, don't you? They're very opportunistic. They'll eat whatever they can get a hold of."

"Except for the people who would try to shock you, but their opinion doesn't count." He sat up a little straighter when he saw the looming, statue laden walls of the harbor entrance ahead. It was a wide passage. He was more concerned with the presence of any other boats or ships than hitting the rock walls.

"Considering some of the things I've seen them eating down at the docks, it doesn't surprise me. The only thing that keeps them from being creepy as they are is how small they are. I think a giant one would be much worse than a spider."

Giant, opportunistic crabs. She shook her head. "The stuff of nightmares. I bet they actually do exist somewhere in Kirkwall or off the Coast." Kirkwall never seemed to have normal things, after all. They always had to be crazier, more horrific, or wildly exaggerated.

She lifted her head as he moved, looking back behind her. A frown made its way too easily onto her lips at the sight of the statues and she got to her feet. It was easy to explain away the absurdities the city housed when one remembered how greatly its history was steeped in blood. "Welcome back to the City of Chains."

"It would not surprise me in the least. Yet another reason you won't catch me swimming around Kirkwall." Never mind the residue from the foundry. He had absolutely no intention of mentioning that place to her, though, not now or ever.

"Such a view," he said dryly. The Imperium knew how to make a visitor feel welcome. He knew why the statues were there and what they signified. If he had the power, he'd pull every last one of them into the sea and count it a good day's work.

She grimaced at the idea. "I don't think there's anywhere good to swim around here at all. Merrill would tell you that the Coast is perfectly safe on a good day but..." No, one never knew what was in the water and she, at least, wasn't interested in trying it. Maybe one day when she wasn't worrying about something like bandits, she'd try the Coast.

"When our ship arrived and we saw them, I didn't know what to think. I was almost certain that I'd just brought my family to something worse than the Blight in Ferelden." She shook her head. "And then Mother told me they were normal."

"Merrill says all sorts of...interesting things...in my admittedly limited experiences with her," he said a little dryly. He had nothing in particular against elves or even Dalish, but she was an odd one by any standard.

"I didn't know what to make of them, either," he said, recalling his first view. His circumstances hadn't been quite as dire. He couldn't imagine seeing that in addition to having no idea what one was going to do or where they'd stay. "It didn't seem very auspicious for starting over."

She chuckled. "Everyone says that. You'd be surprised at some of the things she'd say that were absolutely right. She was the one who saw Petrice for what she was only minutes after we'd spoken with her." In hindsight, she should have heeded her warning right then and there.

"And you have to stand in the courtyard that houses most of them." There was sympathy in her voice as she turned back to him. She knew very well how Bethany and Anders saw those statues and, indeed, it was a strong case to symbolize mage oppression. But he had said it before, how difficult it was to be a Templar in Kirkwall or anywhere else in Thedas. The statues only served to give the citizens a proper visual instead of believing the mages were out of sight and out of mind. "If I had been you, I might have had second thoughts just seeing them every day."

"One can be interesting and also right," he said with a chuckle. His expression darkened slightly at the mention of the corrupt Chantry sister. Her attack dog was still an embarrassment to the order he wished hadn't been killed in the ensuing conflict if only for the satisfaction of having him hanged, himself.

"I don't really see them now. I suppose that's the gift of acclimation, if you can call it a gift." Sailing between them, however, wasn't a view he saw often at all. It gave him a deep chill every time he did.

"Eclectic is more like it," she teased quietly. "But you're absolutely right." She often forgot Merrill's prowess and knowledge when she was lost in the city, the only Dalish in a city where magic was hated. "It's true, what they say about the quiet ones." Who would guess the darker parts of Merrill's power? Hawke certainly hadn't.

The sight brought back unwelcome memories. Her frown lingered and she consented to distract herself by watching for other boats. Things were quiet, thankfully, but it wouldn't be long until the first ships left the harbor. "It looks like we have good timing tonight. Let's hope it stays that way."

Edited 2012-09-20 13:05 (UTC)

"You'd never guess it from tonight, but I usually am one of those quiet ones," he said with a soft chuckle. He was a little subdued sailing through the passage, not surprisingly.

"Yes, let's." He concentrated, hoping the small lamp at the prow was enough to alert others to their presence if they were out there. He expected the larger ships to be well lit. If they were legitimate, they would be. Legitimate traffic wasn't all that passed through Kirkwall's harbor.

He didn't relax much until they were out of the dangerous straight. The harbor widened ahead of them, and he could now see the lights of other ships docked off the quay as well as a few let windows in the district. Mostly, it was the dead hours for Kirkwall. Any traffic out and about was unlikely to be honest, enterprising sorts.

"I can see well enough," he said, standing to fold the sail. He could row them in the rest of the way. "Go ahead and put out the lamp if you would. Let's not call attention to ourselves."

"Oh no, I could see it. You're the man who stands in a courtyard all day, arms folded, forever vigilant. And I've already seen how surprising and unpredictable you can be." She liked those moments of spontaneity. His gut instinct had served him - and her - well enough before.

His uneasiness was mirrored in her own posture as she moved to put out the light. She cast her her gaze outward to the harbor, scanning the few ships she could see in the distance. It might have served her well to ask Isabela about the ships docked before she left but she had been more concerned about exposing her plans that she hadn't thought about it at the time.

She took a moment to put her boots, belt, and jacket back on while she had a moment, keeping her eyes on their projected path.

"I don't often get called unpredictable," he said, clearly pleased. "I could get used to that."

After securing the sail, he finished dressing, too, and tossed all of the bottles out into the harbor. He sat and took the oars in hand, swinging them out and dipping them into the water more quietly than he had when they were out near the coast. He trusted that she'd let him know if she saw something amiss or a welcoming party on the dock.

"I say let's get docked and lashed, scrounge up a basket or net, empty the traps, and then head up toward the Hightown exit. It'll be the quickest route." It was also the most exposed, but it would save them nearly a half hour of scuttling through Lowtown. In the balance, it seemed the safer path.

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