romdeau | a fishing date;

Entry tags:

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Whatever else comes of it, I don't think I will ever live down the crabs comment," he groaned, rolling his eyes at himself. "When I get flustered, things have a tendency to come out all wrong. That's why the scowl is perfected. It's much harder for anyone to get me slipping on that. I can hear it now. 'And then the bloody Knight-Captain of the bloody Templars came waltzing in bold as brass with the Champion and said we have crabs'." He did a more than passing impression of Lusine's accent but didn't alter his voice.

He would have been lying if he claimed the dog didn't make him a little nervous. He had no doubt that he remembered him from the day he came to take Bethany. Mabari were known for their memories. His smile came more naturally when the animal turned his attention to the basket.

"I already promised Hawke we'd share with you," he offered.

"Maker, if we weren't in the middle of a brothel owned by the Coterie, I think I would have died of laughter." Or embarrassment, whichever the case. Her smile turned reassuring. "There were worse ways we could have ended up. She might have been busy with clients and we might have waited there for an hour just to see her. And then there would have been an even smellier basket of clacking beasts to worry about." She didn't feel bad about the stain on their carpet, even if she would be paying for it later.

The dog didn't seem too interested in the Templar just yet, his tail wagging enthusiastically as he eyed up their prize. Hawke rolled her eyes at the animal. "Yes, yes, there will be some for you. But you need to behave, you hear?" If it was possible, his tail wagged even harder, his whole body shaking with the motion. She grinned and led Cullen into the kitchen.

She set the basket in the corner and moved to take off her blades, belt, bag, and jacket, draping all three onto one of the chairs. She moved to light the fire first, eager to get that going before anything else happened. She pulled down one of the large soup pots and set it down, looking for what else they might need. "Make yourself comfortable. I'm going to fill this up with water so we can get that basket out of here."

"You're right about that. There are so many ways it could have gone worse," he agreed. He hadn't wound up drugged or poisoned. They weren't taken hostage. No one important or gossipy had seen them together there. All in all he was thankful for a lot of things, not the least of which was the fact his leg didn't burn anymore.

"It's hard to believe they can also tear a man's head clean off," he said, following behind her.

He removed his weapon, pack, and doublet and set them aside on the same chair, the sword leaned up against it. "Don't be afraid to put me to work. I don't want to just sit back and watch you bustle around." Digging in the pack, he brought out the box of spices he had brought and set them on the table.

"Be glad he isn't after your head," she replied with a good-natured smile, despite her words. The dog followed them into the kitchen and contented himself to lay at the door, out of the way of her working for the time being. "He used to walk with my mother when she'd go shopping. She never was attacked but I know he wouldn't hesitate to tear someone's throat out to keep her safe." If she'd taken him the night she met Quentin... Well, best not to think about that. She might still have her mother or she might have lost her mabari too.

"Believe me," she grinned from over her shoulder, "You'll be put to work. But I'd rather not have you blindly roaming the house when it's dark. There'll be another time for that." She took the one pot out to fill it with water, about two-thirds of the way, until she was satisfied that nothing they put in it would cause it to overflow onto the fire.

She brought it back and hooked it over the fireplace to let it begin to boil. "We might have to make two batches, one with half of the crabs and the small ones, and the other half can be cooked while we eat."

"Trust me. Words can't express my gratitude for that adequately," he assured her. He knew that she was teasing. He wasn't. No Fereldan in his right mind wanted to have to fight a mabari. "Just as I'm sure he'd protect you now if he thought you needed it." He had no intention of putting the idea in the animal's head it would ever be necessary when it came to him.

"Hmmm. For some reason I think I like the sound of that. Another time." As stiff as he had been when he had thrown up the professional facade for the benefit of any shadows, he was relaxed now, as much as he had been with her on the boat.

"Already you're ahead of my game. I'd have dumped the whole lot in and probably boiled them over in your hearth."

Max seemed content enough to listen to them talk about him, stubby tail wagging again. He made no effort to rise or voice his assent, knowing he had to be quiet. But Hawke flashed him a grin anyway. "He might be too distracted by the thought of food to even consider you a threat."

The smile she wore only seemed to brighten briefly when he seemed receptive enough to her suggestion. She didn't linger on it, instead chuckling. "If you had, you'd just have cheated yourself out of your own meal. That'd be enough of a learning experience, I think." She opened the basket and looked inside, nose wrinkling a little at the smell. It wasn't too bad...or perhaps she'd been around the basket too long to notice the difference. "Pick out the ones you'd like to start with," she said as she crossed the room to grab another pot. "Put them in here and we'll wait for the water to boil before dropping them in. We can add the seasoning to the water now, too, before it heats up."

"We've already established I'm sweet. He could just be saving me for dessert." He flashed her an amused grin.

"At this point, I'm almost starving. That would have been a tragedy." He drew closer, coming up behind her to peer over her shoulder at the writhing creatures. At least they were still alive. Their little stop over and delays hadn't cost them that.

He stepped out of her way to give her room to maneuver. He wasn't particularly choosy about which crabs went first. Mostly, he sought to preserve his fingers from any hard pinches, grabbing them and tossing them one by one. "I hope what they gave me is good. It smelled good to me, not that it means much." When he had the crabs divided roughly evenly, he went over to the pot with the spice box. "Should I just dump the whole thing in?"

She returned the look, glancing back to the dog. "Possibly. Maybe he'll start gnawing at you under the table when he's finished with his meal."

The clacking of small claws drew her attention first, though she smiled. "Well, at least we wouldn't have gone hungry if you had." She moved with him to inspect the box he had. "It should be fine. I don't think they would have you on if you were serious about cooking. Bad for business and all of that. I'd only put in half, though. We can always add more if we want to."

"You're bringing new meaning to the term 'eat and run', I hope you realize," he teased.

"We wouldn't, but I would have been so irritated with myself for it, I'd probably also have lost my appetite." He nodded at her instruction. It made sense. He opened the box and carefully tipped half of the fragrant contents into the pot. The spices spread across the top of the water with little floating bits of peppercorn dotted in. "I expected it to sink," he said, stepping back again.

"I don't think you'd be able to do much running at that point. But really, he won't hurt you." With that large tongue hanging out, jowls pulled back in a big, toothy smile, he barely looked like a creature bred for battle. "Mother practically turned him into a house pet. He's been lavished and loved and pampered since we got the estate."

Hawke grabbed one of the large spoons hanging above the fireplace and handed it to him. "Stir. And then we'll wait for it to boil. Hopefully, the spices will sink a little and then we can get started. Once we throw the crabs in, we'll need to fill up the empty pot with fresh water so they'll cool enough to be handled and cleaned."

Yes, the dog looked harmless enough at the moment. He thought he detected amusement in the light brown eyes, although he could have been reading into things. "If you can't pamper your dog with money, what's it good for?" From anyone but a Fereldan that might have been more flippant than it actually was.

He saluted her with the spoon and dipped it into the pot to give it a few swirls. The reddish powder started sinking down, coloring all of the water a deep orange. He enjoyed the smell coming up off the pot way more than he did of the waiting crabs. "I'm a good soldier. I follow orders."

"It's not worth anything if you can't pamper your dog. Is it, boy?" He wuffed softly in agreement, wagging his tail and giving Cullen a pleased look. "It's funny that people call me a dog lord like it's an insult. They don't know Fereldans very well." She shook her head. "And they won't take two steps too close to the estate for fear of getting their faces ripped off by the very dog that sleeps here."

She nudged him as she passed. "I'm well aware of how good of a soldier you are. Trust me when I say you don't want to be my soldier." It brought a little curl of a smirk to her features, though, as she leaned against the stone wall by the fire.

"They don't. I recall the first time that was flung at me as an insult. I was confused as to why they seemed to think it would bother me. If I had a dog, it would just make it more pertinent but still not insulting." He shrugged. Who could explain the Marcher mindset, and who really wanted to other than a Marcher?

"Give me an order I won't want to obey, and you'll know that I'm not." His answering smirk was very similar to hers. "As for the cooking? I'm following this to the letter. If something goes wrong, I don't want it on my head."

"You should get a mabari. You would look twice as intimidating with one at your side in the Gallows. Best of all, you could always have backup when you're dealing with idiots at the docks." But he would probably worry about his four-legged companion, just as she would. "Or you can have him stay behind and keep your bunk warm. That's Max's other job in the colder months." As if she had a say in it.

Her smile turned positively sly and she turned her head to look at the water instead. A few more minutes and they would have a steady boil. "Well, that's another reason why we have a second batch. Just in case." She moved to retrieve the pot of crabs and set them down where she'd been standing moments before. Her hand came to rest at the small of his back as she took her place behind and somewhat to the side of him. "I know better not to ask anything compromising of you. Not unless I wanted you to give me the same look you gave Lusine tonight."

"I wish that we could, but there's no way to make them immune or resistant to magic the way that we are. They're very good at what they do. Against a blood mage, they would be a weapon to turn on us, not to mention the things they might suffer." There was also the fact that mabari were very choosy in those they picked for their bonds, and it could become a matter of conflicting loyalty if a Templar stepped out of line.

He was highly curious about that expression, yet held his question. Sometimes being surprised was preferable. His gaze followed her as she moved about. He enjoyed this as much as he had the boat. It was a novel activity, cooking with another somewhere that wasn't a barracks and where he hadn't been put on the duty as they did with all recruits.

He smiled, leaning slightly against the touch, and glanced at her. "I don't think you have to worry about that." He didn't think he had to worry about it, either. He trusted her to respect his integrity.

True enough. She looked over at the drooling mass of muscle and pup she called hers and nodded in agreement. "That's part of the reason why I leave him here. Not just blood mages, but spiders and Qunari and Maker knows what else. It would kill me to lose him." As figuratively as she meant it, there was truth to her words. Her smile was small. "Maybe we can get Sandal to enchant your collar to protect you, huh, boy?"

'Enchant' had him in a full-body wriggle of excitement and she chuckled quietly at the sight. He really was ridiculous sometimes.

She turned back to Cullen, side-stepping so she was in a better position to put both hands on him, fingers kneading at the muscles of his lower back. "But I'm curious about what I could ask you," she murmured quietly. She had said she wanted to know more about him, after all.

He could understand that. She had lost so much in this city already. Losing her dog, too, would be a severe blow. It wasn't necessary to risk him on the bigger things. She had competent friends who could help her with that. He chuckled at the dog's reaction to the proposal for his collar. "It's not a bad idea."

He gave a low approving hum and stuck the spoon back in the pot for another stir or two. "Find out," he offered, glancing over his shoulder. "The worst that will happen is I'll say it's something I'm not comfortable with. No glaring. Templar's honor."

"Probably. I'd need to shop around to find something appropriate. A shame there's no anti-blood magic rune out there. Wouldn't that make lives easier for so many people?" If anyone could ever enchant an item like that, it would be Sandal. He had a knack for achieving the impossible. She'd need to introduce him to Cullen.

She moved her fingers lower, thumbs working from the spine and outward, tempering knotted muscle. She smiled deviously. "I'm not certain what I could ask just yet. Especially right now." Her tone held promise as she held his gaze, hands working at his back. "But I'll let you know if that changes, certainly."

"That would all but put me out of a job. In the balance of things, I wouldn't complain." He chuckled. It was something he had no doubt had been tried. The Tranquil made excellent enchanters, and did as they were bade. He couldn't imagine that some of those orders wouldn't have been to try to devise something that prevented blood magic altogether or negated its effects in others.

"Oof. That feels good." He twisted a little to put her on top of a particular knot. He held the look, interest sparking in his gaze. "There is the matter of the cooking, yes. It won't take too long, I imagine." Cleaning and shelling the crabs might, though. "I won't be going anywhere very soon." He noticed steam rising in small curls at the top of the pot, the direct precursor to the boil. "Does it need to get going good before we put them in?"

"Not necessarily. You'd still have plenty to do. You would just have one less problem to worry about." She smiled. "Templars without jobs. Perish the thought. You'd be religious guards of the Chantry if you didn't have people to chase after."

Carefully, she rolled the knuckles of her one hand to accommodate where he wanted her, slowly turning her hand to knead where she could. "And there's the matter of cleaning, shelling, and eating our would-be meal," she teased. Going up on her toes, she glanced over his shoulder at the pot. "Another...two minutes at most, I think, and then you should be able to start putting them into the water. It's getting there."

"Chantry guard duty. I think I'd take a job as a city guard before letting myself be relegated just to that." He could not think of many things more dull or unrewarding. Many of the priests outright annoyed him, and too many books in one place made him sneeze.

He stood a little hunched over to enjoy the massaging then turned, his arms slipping about her waist. "Two minutes? However will we pass the time?" He leaned down to kiss her, more playful and affectionate than trying to start anything much. He remembered to hold the spoon out and away from her so he didn't drip any hot water or seasonings down her back.

"I'm sure Aveline would love to have you under her thumb, if so," she joked, grinning. "The guard get up to enough troubles outside of the city, you know. Even within city limits, they have things to do. You'd never be bored."

With a soft chuckle, she tilted her head up for the kiss, nose nudging against his. Her hands found his arms and her fingers rubbed circles into them just as she had with his back, her lips curled against his. "Seems you already thought of something," she murmured against his mouth, kissing him once more.

"Oh, I'm sure. I'd get all the choice assignments, too. Darktown, the Dust sector in Lowtown, Wounded Coast ambushes. The Guard-Captain would personally see to it." He had the strong feeling Aveline didn't like him at all, largely because most orders that came from Meredith's office went through him as the mouthpiece, and many of those orders interfered with those of the guard.

This was a much preferable focus. He smiled at her observation, the smile emerging between kisses and disappearing again when he pressed in. "Looks that way, doesn't it?" he murmured. It was nice not feeling the floor rocking beneath them or worrying about balance. He could focus solely on the press of her against him and how her lips felt in the soft caresses.

"She'd look after you," she assured gently, despite the teasing. "You can be the most ungrateful recruit, drag your feet and make her give you Darktown for your troubles, but she'd be right there looking after you." Hawke smirked. "She and I both would, much to your chagrin."

It was rather strange to be doing this without the feeling of anything moving beneath their feet. There were no awkward angles or odd twisting to be done here. It was much easier already to find him commanding all of her attention, strong arm around her waist and front warmed from the fire. She kept her kisses light and simple, an arm slipping around his shoulders.

"You can't say she wouldn't enjoy bringing me low. I know she wouldn't try to get me killed. She's not like that, but to take a Templar down a peg or two? Most definitely. As for you...most of the time I bet I wouldn't know you were there. If I did, I'd have reason to be grateful for it." It would mean things had gotten dangerously out of hand.

He enjoyed the relaxed affection and felt an extra little thrill when he thought of the possible Coterie shadow thinking he was there on business. It was a dangerous game they had played in the Rose. Time would tell whether they had played it well enough to keep rumors at bay, for a little while. He deepened the kiss, tongue teasing her lips parted to flick softly against hers. His hand at the small of her back pressed her in closer to him, flush from the hips up.

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