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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"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.

It was a quicker route to be certain and she worried that it would leave them too exposed...but it was better than Lowtown in the darkness. She liked the odds better. With a nod, she moved to get out the few things she'd left below - her blades and her bag - and secured them into place. She wanted to be ready for whatever was waiting for them.

The docks seemed quiet for the most part, typical for that time of morning. Hawke grabbed up the rope and, as Cullen brought them to the dock itself, hopped out to tie the boat to the pier. "Let me go look around for a basket or something else for us to use," she said. She quickly recounted how many crabs they had so she'd know what size to look for. "If you hear or see anything while I'm gone, whistle for me? I won't be long."

"Right. I'll be getting the traps on the dock," he said. It wouldn't take too much time or a dangerous amount of his focus to do it. He'd be able to spring out of the boat and into action if he had to. He settled his small pack to his back and clipped his sword sheath back to his belt.

One by one, he slung the traps from the boat bottom to the dock, pausing and looking around after each one. So far so good. He climbed out of the boat and waited for her to return, wary but not worried.

With a nod, she was off. It didn't take too long for her to find supplies from other crews in the docks. The problem was retrieving a basket when most items were in crates and already pitched and ready to move at first light. Many of the nets were already in use as well, much to her chagrin.

But she eventually found a stack of opened boxes, contents strewn around in someone's haste to find something, and a sleeping crew member near them. Judging by the bottle lying beside him, he was down for the count and wouldn't be noticing if she pilfered anything from him. It took little effort to locate a small basket, big enough for the squirming crustaceans back on their boat. She pulled it free of the carnage and dug out two silver coins, placing them near the man's hip. It was up to him to find them later. Hopefully, the basket wouldn't be too sorely missed.

Hawke made her way briskly back to Cullen, holding her find like a trophy. "Here we go. One basket for the little monsters."

Three scruffy looking men slunk out of the shadows between two nearby warehouses, one of them leaning casually against the wall and the other two facing him as though just having a conversation. Sure. A nice, casual conversation in the dark hours before dawn at the docks. If they thought Cullen intended to buy that, they didn't have much worth selling.

When she returned, he said, "Beautiful! I knew I could count on you." Without turning at all, he shifted his eyes quickly in the direction of the small group, searching her gaze to see if she caught his signal. He didn't miss a beat in reaching for the basket and beginning to unload the traps. Whoever they were, they weren't making their moves yet. He felt like they still had time. It was possible, though not likely, that they weren't focused on Hawke and Cullen at all. He didn't want to start anything without provocation.

She caught his glance but didn't look, not until she'd rejoined him with the basket. "Paid for, too," she said, by way of explanation. It was when he started to unload the traps that she took a moment to see what he'd been nodding towards, the setup plain as day. Amateurs. But the two of them weren't as armed as they could be and playing it down seemed like an excellent option for the moment. At least until they could be certain if that trouble was meant for them.

"Where can we take the traps?" she asked him lowly. "Do we leave them with the boat or is someone just as likely to swipe them?" Carrying them was an option, one that would leave them disadvantaged if they were about to have company.

His smile ticked up, a little dry and amused. He wasn't sure if the payment was more for his benefit or something she'd typically do. Either way he was grateful to know they weren't depriving someone of something they'd need without recompense. He worked the lid of it down hard to keep the crabs in and straightened.

"There's a little shack one dock over," he said without either nodding or pointing in the direction he meant. He didn't want to give their observers anything to work with. "I have the key. He said we can just leave them in there, and he'll pick them up in the morning."

He leaned in as though kissing her ear, body language casual and distracted. He murmured, "Let me tote the traps. They're more likely to follow me if they're up to something and ignore you. You can surprise them." When he straightened, he offered a heated smile. He knew that one or two of them would catch it in profile.

She smiled as he worked the lid down of the basket, pleased at their catch and that it actually fit. It would be a shame if she would have had to go back and get something else instead. She patted the top once, careful not to dislodge anything as he told her about the shack. She nodded once, understanding.

She took it from him and paused as he leaned in, her smile going sly at the edges. "Just remember that you asked for me to surprise them," she murmured as a low warning, stepping back from him. If they went after Cullen, they were definitely going to get trouble from her. A hand slipped to her belt to feel for the extra knife she had tucked away, fingers sliding over the handle when she found it. She left it alone.

Without wasting too much time, or acknowledging their watchers, she nodded. "Go ahead. I have your back."

"Trust me. I'm not squeamish about that." Cutthroats deserved whatever they got. If they were smart, they'd leave well enough alone. He bent and managed to lift two of the traps in each hand. He'd have to come back for the last. Having his hands occupied had him feeling a little twitchy. He knew he could get off a smite, though, enough to give himself time for his blade. He also knew he had skilled back up.

He shot her a wink and started off. One of the lurkers melted back into shadow and left the other two still talking near the wall. Cullen listened hard and thought he heard a scrape of boot over the rooftop. Were they really going to try that? He headed down to the shack and set the traps down to fish out the key. He knew if he was going to get jumped, it wouldn't be here but on his way back to Hawke. He stashed the traps and locked the door, knowing that things could be stolen just that quickly if he didn't.

It wasn't until he was nearly back with her that the attack came, two men and a woman dropping from the rooftop and the other two closing from the ground. "You picked a bad time to go crabbing," one of them said. It was hard to tell which one. The ones from the roof had cloths tied over the lower halves of their faces.

There was something thrilling about getting approval from authority to take care of a problem, especially when they were the unsavory kind. It was even better when Aveline would condone her actions, which was rarely done. Hearing Cullen give her the go ahead brought a faint twist to her lips after he left. She'd give them about three minutes, if that, before following at a distance.

The group, she could already tell, didn't work for anyone in particular. No defining colors, no uniform, so they didn't work for the Coterie or the Carta. Definitely not part of the Red Iron. No one who would immediately recognize either of them. It was probably why they thought to take advantage of two lone people in the darkness. When the three men followed Cullen, she waited less than two minutes before doing the same, using the shadows as her cover.

The crates were probably the easiest to take advantage of in the docks for cover, strewn in increments just enough for a sneaking apostate - or a thief - to use to hide. She used it instead until she heard one of them speak. That was her cue to move, pulling out her spare knife as she stood. A flick of the wrist had it spinning into the back of the woman's head, dropping her.

Hawke drew her blades out and twirled them easily in hand, smiling. "You might want to think about asking for mercy. Just a thought."

"Listen to that," one of the men said. "Doglord bitch gets herself a pig sticker and thinks she owns the place."

Cullen drew his sword. "You shouldn't have said that," he said. "She hates it when people call them pig stickers." Without another word, he launched an attack, much faster out of armor than in it. He slammed into his target like a brick wall, teeth flying from his pommel strike to the man's jaw. The thief hit the wall behind him with a sickening crunch and slid down, not likely to get up again.

The other three weren't idle, two of them turning on Hawke and the other leaping at Cullen with fluid agility. They may not have been pros, but it didn't seem they were going to go down without a good fight first.

Hawke hopped backwards, drawing the two to her. They were quick, she'd give them that, even if they weren't very experienced. Someone either taught them the finer points of thievery or they'd been growing up in Darktown, pickpocketing their way to the top. They didn't know how to engage enemies with fighting skills and it was obvious by the way they sent one person after Cullen when he was the heavy-hitter.

She ducked under the swipe of a blade and turned her own, smacking her first opponent with the pommel of her blade right in the solar plexus. With a wheeze, he crumpled, and she was free to focus on her other target. The man jumped back into the shadows, the one who'd done so before. She missed a slice to her forearm by inches as she turned, burying her second blade into his neck as he recovered. "They're not pig stickers," she said, kicking his body back and over his crouched comrade.

Cullen's attacker was more skilled at avoiding being hit than at hitting. He danced in to deliver a wild, inaccurate slash or two with his daggers only to dart back out of sword range again just before Cullen could get in a good jab or sweep. The man kept laughing with each attempt, enough that it was a tell.

Come on, Cullen thought. Laugh just a little sooner... A cross bow bolt whizzing past his head and thunking into the wooden door behind him got his attention immediately. "Bolter!" he shouted to alert Hawke.

His eyes searched the shadows as he parried, distracted enough to take a shallow cut across the side of his thigh. He hissed and leaped back, then saw the telltale glint of metal on the rooftop. "Got you," he murmured low. The night sky erupted in a towering inferno of white energy. The lone bolter fell from the rooftop with a scream that cut off abruptly.

Cullen's attacker stared at him wide eyed. "Andraste's dimpled asscheeks, a bloody Templar," he moaned. "It's a bloody--" His shout ended in a gout of blood, Cullen's slash clean across his throat.

She turned her head at the shout, looking up and around for their hidden attacker. She dearly wished sometimes that she actually remembered to carry a bow or a crossbow with her; she was no good with ranged fighters without Varric or Sebastian. With her distracted, the other thief jumped to his feet and went for her exposed back. She turned back around and pulled out a small pellet from her belt, throwing it to the ground. In a puff of smoke, she ducked back and out of his range, circling around to get him from behind.

The startled cry of 'Templar' offered enough of a distraction to get her enemy looking at Cullen with wide, rounded eyes, long enough for Hawke to get into place. When he turned to confront her again, he was met with both of her blades buried in his chest as she spun. With a startled gasp, he dropped, and she pulled her weapons free of his body.

"Shit," she muttered, glancing around at the bodies. Her gaze flitted to the shadows, watching for any others as she made her way over to Cullen. She flicked blood from one of her blades, scowling. "Are you all right?"

"Bastard cut me," he said, glancing down at his wet pants leg, the blood black in the moonlight. "I don't think it's deep. Let's get that basket between us and get the Void out of here before we've got the guard on top of us, too." He wasn't keen on having to write an incident report if he could get around it. If he did that every time he got jumped by some thug with more greed than sense, he'd be buried under a mountain of them.

He didn't imagine that either the smite or the panicked shout had gone completely unnoticed. If it didn't bring the law running, it might bring other sorts, crazy blood mages or the Coterie looking to make the streets a little less safe one piece of the law at a time. They never seemed to distinguish much between guards and knights. It was all the same to them, an obstacle to get rid of. Wouldn't they think it a prize if they could take out the Knight-Captain?

Her eyes followed the red trail in his pant leg, coming to stand beside him so she could take a better look at it. In the darkness, there wasn't much she could distinguish, but if he said he was all right, she'd have to take his word for it. "I have some things at the estate we can use. You can walk without any trouble, right?" she asked, sheathing her blades and glancing around once more. If the guard came down on them, that would be preferable to getting ambushed by more trouble. Aveline could yell her down for being foolish enough to be out cutting down thugs, but at the end of the day, a striping was preferable to getting their throats cut.

"I'd be loath to leave you but I can grab the basket and the last trap if you want to stay here and not aggravate your cut." But that could easily leave him open to another attack if anyone did hear that there was a Templar out here.

He put his full weight on it and took an experimental step or two. It burned like a son of a bitch, to the point he had the stray concern the blade may have been poisoned with something. There was no real way to know unless he started to feel sick. "I can walk," he said with a nod.

He considered her proposal before shaking his head. "No. We'd do better sticking together at this point. If there are others coming, I'd rather make them work for whatever they want to do than make it easy to pick us off individually. We can carry the basket between us after we put away the trap. It'll leave a hand free each for weapons."

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