brainiest | ic contact.

Of course I don't mind, even if I do think you needn't have. Should I meet you in the docking bay?

Gonna take the transporter actually, I think. I've been itching to try it ever since I discovered it. See you soon! :D

[With that he pockets his communicator and heads to the transporter pad after taking a bit of a detour to grab his gift for Hermione, excited to actually see how science does teleportation differently than magic.

Don't mind him if he's a bit green around the gills when he arrives, arms laden with a small storage cube that he's holding carefully despite his looking a bit wavery.]

That is nothing like how I expected...

[ Hermione is quick to dart over when she can, moving around and lifting her arms to hold onto Hawke gently. She's dressed down, hair tied up behind her and scarring on show - the obvious one on her face, of course, but the silvery lines of werewolf bites clear against her skin with no collar or jumper to hide them away. She might look like any other girl wandering around in the summer if it wasn't for the mess of her hair and the intricate, detailed tattoos on the back of her neck and below. ]

Hawke! Are you alright?

I'm fine! I'm fine. Just a little queasy from the transport. I'm sure it'll pass.

[He doesn't wave her off, but he does give a smile to show he's okay. If she didn't see him just after the prize fight on the last planet to compare, she might be surprised at his condition. He was much worse before, arm in a sling and the skin around his eyes all manner of bruisey purples, but even without that he's still got a scabbed over gash across the bridge of his nose and walks with a little bit of favor to his right side.

But he's less interested in his own condition and more with Hermione's. He knew she had a scar - hard to miss the one on her face - but the rest of them are curious. She's been through more than he thought at first glance, and those tattoos... Nothing untoward, but he sees them when she leans in to help keep him steady and can't help thinking they look familiar.]

Wait, are those Dalish tattoos?

You're just queasy from the transport?

[ Hermione raises her eyebrow, looking him up and down in a way that says, no, she doesn't believe he's alright whatsoever. She can see the gash and she's not completely blind, her eyes drinking him in - and she would go on, likely to huff and putt and scold and fret until she was breathless, but she realises that his eyes are drawn elsewhere and she has to pause to think.

Of course. Her lips soften into something sweet and fond, and she reaches behind herself, to press her fingertips against the tattoos that line the skin of her back, gentle, intricate patterns that make her feel home again. ]

They're Dalish, you're right. My lethallan gave me them.

Well no I also had to fight to get out of prison, but Anders healed me so really it's just bruises now.

[He blinks at the tattoos again, grinning just a bit.]

My, you did almost go native without ever setting foot on Thedas. Taking a Dalish lover and everything.

I'm too used to all of my friends getting themselves into endless amounts of trouble, really, aren't I?

[ She shakes her head, crossing her arms. But then, oh, then, she goes a violent red. ]

She wasn't my lover! She was my sister!

You and be both.

[He grins at her color, but starts when she corrects him.]

What, really? How did I get that so wrong?

[ She shakes her head, still a little flushed. ]

She was my family, really. I didn't have much time for romance, honestly, not with everything that was going on, and even then... Nasrin was my sister. She was home away from home.

I don't know, there always seems time for romance.

[He made time, but that may be because he didn't really want the rest of it. It's not that he wasn't invested, he just never had set out to be any kind of hero or pariah. He was far more interested in connecting with people and building a life. Only things just kept happening...]

But I do get that, home away from home. I had friends like that in Kirkwall. Varric you might know. He was in the Fleet awhile, apparently. I just missed him. Probably wasn't my Varric but I can't imagine he'd be much different.

Maybe I was just unlucky, then.

[ She shakes her head, thinking back. Yes, she might have been proposed to, once, but she'd said no - for good reason - and now... Now she thinks that maybe she made wrong choices that lead her down a path where she couldn't reach out for someone that she might have been good with. It's all hindsight, of course, but it doesn't stop it stinging a little. ]

I never met Varric, no, but I do understand. My friend Harry was here for a little while and I felt the same way.

Well, no use dwelling on missing people when there's not much we can do. I'd much rather celebrate. Here! Happy birthday.

[He holds out the box in his hands, holding it carefully upright. It's just one of the smaller storage boxes that can be found in any one of the fleet's cargo bays, but it's what's inside it that counts.]

Just don't shake it first, they'll break.

Hawke.

[ She smiles, reaching out and taking the box before she moves and settles, sitting down with the box on her lap. ]

I'm being very careful, see?

What?

[Why does everyone always say his name like he's done something wrong? With a small huff of a laugh, he moves to settle in across from her, eagerly waiting for her to open it.

Once she does, she can easily see why he said not to shake it. Ten glass bottles are seated at the bottom of the container with crumpled paper between them to keep them from rattling about and getting broken. Each bottle is a different size and shape, all different colors of glass. A couple are even multiple colors blown together in bright patches and whorls. Another one or two are very likely from Malum, empty bottles of alcohol that would have otherwise been recycled. One even looks like a skull.]

There were some neat ones in the last system so I just started collecting. I thought you could use them for potions.

[ She opens the box and rests it on her knee, leaning over to look inside - and when she sees the contents she gasps, her eyes widening. Slowly, Hermione's fingers dance over the bottles, looking at them all, thumb brushing over the stem of some of them before she turns her head back to look over at Hawke, completely overwhelmed. ]

They're - Hawke, these are beautiful.

Glad you like them.

[He looks the very image of a happy puppy. If he had a tail, it would be wagging.]

Happy birthday, my dear Hermione.

[ Her cheeks flush a little and, careful to put the box down gently, she moves forward and wraps her arms around Hawke, squeezing him. ]

Thank you so much.

[He's surprised at the hug, tensing for a moment before practically melting into it and roping his thick, protective arms around her. He squeezes back, not too hard but its enough pressure to feel the affection he holds for her.]

How old are you turning, anyway? Or am I not allowed to ask that?

[ It's hard for her not to bury her face into him, at least for a moment, because the strong arms - well, they remind her of her adoptive father, of family, a touch awkwardly, and she's not sure now is the best time to even consider voicing that. Instead, she leans back, tilting her head up and smiling softly. ]

It's alright, I don't mind. Twenty three.

Maker, you're still young.

[He laughs, not deprecating at all but instead surprised. She seems so much older to him, wiser, even with the youth still in her face. She certainly knows much for all he can guess she's been through.]

I know.

[ Her face lifts into a smile, but it's a touch awkward. She's scarred, and hurt by the world, and a little sad and lonely, but... She knows that she's still a child in the eyes of some people. She might not feel like it - she protected people, she's fought in two wars, she lead an entire Citadel with help from her fellow Marchioness and Marquises, but...

She's only twenty-three. ]

I'm working on it?

[He laughs at that, a full-bodied guffaw that strains his still bruised ribs just a bit and leaves him to wheeze for a moment at the tail end.]

No, no, don't work at it too hard. Sorry, it wasn't meant to be judgmental. It's just that you're so knowledgeable and still so young. I'm thirty-fiv- no, thirty-six now - practically an old man - and I don't think what I know holds a candle to your expertise.

[He falls back into gentle smile, a bit admiring. He's only known her for a short time, but hearing this, he finds he's proud.]

You're like a big brother.

[ It makes her smile, though, and she huffs a little noise. ]

I only learned it because I had to. When you're practically fighting a war at age twelve you need to make sure you're ready, and that was only the first one.

I am a big bother.

[He grins.]

Twice over at least. Three counting you.

[He has to resist the urge to boop her nose. That would be too much. Especially considering he sobers up a little with her talking about war.]

That's quite young. My little brother was eighteen when he joined the king's army. Some battles just have to be fought, though. The alternative is worse.

Counting me?

[ Her cheeks go a little red, and she lifts a hand to try and cover her mouth. ]

That's how I felt in the Drabwurld. I had to do something to help otherwise I'd lose my mind.

text;

text; -> action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

action

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject