Sora didn't look like much when Riku first met him.
He was small and sort of scrawny, hair pointing out in all directions. He was covered in wet sand from head to toe, looking more like a monster than a child. And when he looked at Riku and smiled, there was a gap where his front two teeth should have been. The silver haired boy raised an eyebrow as the smaller boy got to his feet, dusting himself off. "I-I meant to do that. Really, I did!" he crowed, rubbing the back of his neck. In his hand was a long stick, uneven, small branches poking out.
Riku's skeptical frown, an expression that looked too old for his small face, only deepened. "What were you even doing?" he asked.
Sora stared at him for a moment and then bounced back. "Oh. Uh. This!" He showed Riku the long stick he held in his right hand, branches poking out of the sides. "I was pretending to be a prince! I thought if I could fight..." His embarrassment poked through and he glanced away, though his smile never left his face. Riku thought it was a small wonder that he hadn't poked his eyes out with the branch. He had no idea what he was doing. "I thought...maybe you'd let me play with you."
Riku seemed surprised at the admission. Sora winced. "I, um, I always see you out here. You always seem alone."
He'd never had someone to play with before. All of the other kids were too afraid to go on the island, convinced the boats were too small...or their parents just didn't think they were ready. But Riku was the oldest; he'd gotten his chance to go first, aided by his mother. And it became his favorite place to be when she was at work and he was on his own. She trusted him to be okay. He didn't want to let her down.
He played in the sun from early morning to early evening, napping in the midmorning beneath the shade of the paopu tree. He swam and he splashed around, ate from the fruits he found and played games. His mother got him a toy sword for his birthday, near five weeks ago, and told him to be a good knight and always come home when it was time. And he never disobeyed. That was his duty, he thought. He was the man of the house, after all.
In all that time, he'd gotten a little lonely, sure...but it never really bothered him. Not until Sora said it like that. You always seem alone.
Well, of course I'm alone, he thought of retorting. I don't need to be babied. I don't need to be watched.
Sora bit his lip, kicking at the sand absently. "I thought...we could maybe play together?" he said softly, hope in his blue eyes. "We could be friends."
"You don't even know me," Riku protested glumly. "Why would you want to?" No one else did.
"Because you seem really cool," the boy said. "And you could teach me to swing a sword, just like you!"
Riku considered this a moment, his frown more speculative than frustrated. At length, he folded his arms across his chest. "I can't teach you." Sora seemed to fold inwards, crushed. "Not until we get you something better than that stick." He looked up at Riku in surprise. "You're gonna hurt yourself with it. You need something better if you're going to be a knight."
"Really?!" Sora didn't wait for his response; he pounced on Riku and hugged him around the waist. "Thanks! You're so cool! You're the best!"
He twisted himself out of the hug, patting the younger boy on the head. "Relax. I haven't even showed you anything yet." Sora smiled just the same, the gap in his teeth comical. Riku returned the expression. "I'm Riku, by the way."
"Father used to drive Mother up a wall," Garrett laughed into his tankard, eyes sparkling with mirth. "Always joking. And he'd always sneak off when there was work to be done." Across from him, Marian grinned. "She used to threaten to tan his hide just as soon as the rest of us. Could you imagine it? Carver, me and Father standing there waiting for the switch." He snorted. "But not Bethany. Ohhhh no."
Marian laughed, shaking her head. "Maker, no, not Beth. Carver gave her so much grief as a child that I think they always believed her when she pulled something." She smiled lopsidedly. "After he nailed her braid while she slept, I think she deserved it."
He nearly spit out his drink when he laughed. "Oh, I had forgotten about that! Poor Bethany." He set his tankard down. "Poor Bethany."
Marian nodded absently. "Poor Bethany."
Since Marian's departure from her 'reality' - something they both still didn't quite understand or know how to explain - they'd been running with the idea that she was distantly related to Garrett (very distantly, he had to remind people), a lie that no one really quite believed. She knew too much, grew too comfortable with the other companions in such a short span of time. But not everything was the same; this was still a world where Bethany was dead and Carver was with the Wardens, far away from Kirkwall.
"I miss her too," Marian said gently. "I know it's...not the same here, but I haven't seen her in nearly three years, since the Qunari incident." But her sister's absence was certainly felt in the great expanse of Kirkwall, even if she hadn't experienced Bethany's death personally. It was as if a piece of home had been thrown away when she stepped through the mirror.
To make matters worse, Garrett was always being watched by the Knight-Commander and Marian's arrival did not go without careful scrutiny. The Hawkes were on thin ice. There was no peace in Kirkwall. Not any longer.
"I wouldn't want her here," Garrett said, rising to his feet. When he took a step back, it wasn't without stumbling. The two bottles standing upright on the table in front of him spoke to the reason, even if he'd split them evenly with the other Hawke. "Not with Meredith two steps from cuffing me. I wouldn't be able to fathom what would happen to Bethany here." He made his way over to the bed and flopped down. "Void take Meredith," he grumbled, closing his eyes.
Marian chuckled softly, the sound lacking mirth. She stood and followed him over, sitting at his side. "Can you imagine how Father would react, though?" she said softly, scooting back towards the head of the bed. She tugged at his arm until he turned to properly lay down, kicking his boots off along the way. Marian coaxed him to rest his head in her lap as she continued speaking, her smile small and whimsical. "She'd come to collect his children and he'd probably freeze her on the spot. Turn her into a Templar icicle." Garrett chuckled and she smiled, absently running nimble rogue fingers through his hair. "He'd have no patience for her."
"Oh, come now," he said between chuckles. "He'd probably do a damn good job of hiding our magic in the first place. He would just take every opportunity imaginable to be cheeky with her, mock her with false platitudes. He'd be the most insufferable nobleman of them all." They laughed together and he turned, looking up into her face. "You have his eyes, you know."
She smiled, moving a hand down to tug briefly at his beard. "And you have his laziness. You should trim sometime."
He grinned. "My dear lady, don't tell me my stubble bothers you." His smile widened when she laughed.
"That's no stubble, you wretch. It's like moss growing on a stone." She tugged again and he chuckled. "Just like his."
"Didn't Mother used to nag him about the same thing?" One eyebrow lifted suggestively. "Perhaps we are starting to sound like an old married couple. You know..."
"No," she laughed, grabbing a pillow and smacking him with it. "You are impossible," Marian chided as he pulled the pillow away and turned himself to crawl up the bed, resting his chin on her stomach as she leaned back. "Absolutely impossible."
"And you wouldn't have it any other way, would you?" he goaded, amber eyes gleaming like a cat's.
After a moment, she shook her head, settling hands on his face and pulling him up until they were nose-to-nose. "No. I suppose I wouldn't."
Setting down the thick and grotesque lump of papers Marian Hawke called a textbook, her gaze traveled across the room to the doorway, where her twin brother stood leaning against the frame. The sullen look he gave her spoke volumes, emotion flickering in pained amber eyes.
"Who's gone?" she asked as neutrally as possible as she uncurled herself from the chair she was draped over.
"Anders," came his reply as he crossed to her, every step dragging. She stood when he finally came to her side. "I went to his apartment and he's... He's just gone. I can't find him. He won't answer his phone."
She sighed. "He's probably out of minutes. He doesn't get proper paychecks anymore, Garrett."
"I know that! Don't you think I know that?" His tone was gruff, hurt beneath the anger, and he stepped away towards the fireplace. It was a luxury for the old home and one of the few ways to keep warm instead of abusing the electricity bill.
She didn't follow, staying by the chair and settling back to balance herself on the arm of it. "And he's not just busy?" Anders kept odd hours, stacked up his every waking moment with 'patients' and filled any time he wasn't wrapped up in his writing to slink off to God-knows-where. She knew Garrett had an inkling as to where he went. Isabela knew too. But both had been decidedly silent about it, refusing any and all of Marian's questions. They knew her too well, knew she'd probably go storming down to his hole in the wall he called a clinic to punch some sense into his addled brain.
But this was different. Garrett didn't get worked up about these things so easily. He was a grin-and-bear-it kind of guy, always joking, never not smiling. But whatever Anders had done, it'd hurt him, and something heated walked its way up her spine in defense at her brother's expense.
"We...had an argument the other day." She had to resist rolling her eyes. If this was just a lover's spat... "He was asking around about homemade weaponry. Pipe bombs." Garrett looked over his shoulder at her, taking in his sister's shocked face. "I threatened to tell Aveline."
That got her on her feet. "And you told her, right?" Silence. "Garrett!"
"I wanted to," he growled, turning to face her. "God, don't you think I wanted to? He promised he'd lay off."
"And you believed him." He kept her gaze but she could already see him retreating, wishing he'd kept his mouth shut. "He almost killed someone a few years ago. Don't you remember that?" Anders was almost cuffed for it and it took all of Aveline's influence to keep him out of prison. "Do you really think he's going to back off just because you said so? Just because you threatened him?"
Yes. Yes, he did. He wanted to believe the best of Anders, of a friend he'd known for nearly six years, his lover for half that time. "He's a good person, Marian," he whispered hoarsely, voice strained. "He's helped so many people..." Drug addicts, the poor, people who couldn't afford to be seen by the ER, let alone a surgeon. He took in people who needed someone to save them and forgot that he was just as lost and broken as they were. "He's not a killer."
That remains to be seen, she thought bitterly, anger threatening to choke her. One look from him brought her back and she reached out, taking his arm. "Look, I'll ask Isabela and I'll see what I can do. You just keep trying him. Eventually, he'll come looking for you. He'll come back." He gave her a skeptical look and she squeezed his arm. "I promise. Just let me go see her. Okay?"
The silence stretched until he nodded. "Go easy on him if you find him, Marian. Let me talk to him first."
Damn. With a grimace, she nodded. "Fine. For you." Always for you. She turned and left the room, grabbing her keys and coat. "Call me if you hear from him or anyone else, all right?" she called as she went. "I'll be back once I've seen Isabela." And Fenris. If anyone would be willing to help her hunt down the fool, it'd be him. When she passed the doorway, she took one last look at her brother, and then she was out into the streets and getting into her car.
It was not twenty minutes later when Garrett's phone buzzed.
I need you. Come meet me at the church. I'm sorry. -- A
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1. for Farlichu
He was small and sort of scrawny, hair pointing out in all directions. He was covered in wet sand from head to toe, looking more like a monster than a child. And when he looked at Riku and smiled, there was a gap where his front two teeth should have been. The silver haired boy raised an eyebrow as the smaller boy got to his feet, dusting himself off. "I-I meant to do that. Really, I did!" he crowed, rubbing the back of his neck. In his hand was a long stick, uneven, small branches poking out.
Riku's skeptical frown, an expression that looked too old for his small face, only deepened. "What were you even doing?" he asked.
Sora stared at him for a moment and then bounced back. "Oh. Uh. This!" He showed Riku the long stick he held in his right hand, branches poking out of the sides. "I was pretending to be a prince! I thought if I could fight..." His embarrassment poked through and he glanced away, though his smile never left his face. Riku thought it was a small wonder that he hadn't poked his eyes out with the branch. He had no idea what he was doing. "I thought...maybe you'd let me play with you."
Riku seemed surprised at the admission. Sora winced. "I, um, I always see you out here. You always seem alone."
He'd never had someone to play with before. All of the other kids were too afraid to go on the island, convinced the boats were too small...or their parents just didn't think they were ready. But Riku was the oldest; he'd gotten his chance to go first, aided by his mother. And it became his favorite place to be when she was at work and he was on his own. She trusted him to be okay. He didn't want to let her down.
He played in the sun from early morning to early evening, napping in the midmorning beneath the shade of the paopu tree. He swam and he splashed around, ate from the fruits he found and played games. His mother got him a toy sword for his birthday, near five weeks ago, and told him to be a good knight and always come home when it was time. And he never disobeyed. That was his duty, he thought. He was the man of the house, after all.
In all that time, he'd gotten a little lonely, sure...but it never really bothered him. Not until Sora said it like that. You always seem alone.
Well, of course I'm alone, he thought of retorting. I don't need to be babied. I don't need to be watched.
Sora bit his lip, kicking at the sand absently. "I thought...we could maybe play together?" he said softly, hope in his blue eyes. "We could be friends."
"You don't even know me," Riku protested glumly. "Why would you want to?" No one else did.
"Because you seem really cool," the boy said. "And you could teach me to swing a sword, just like you!"
Riku considered this a moment, his frown more speculative than frustrated. At length, he folded his arms across his chest. "I can't teach you." Sora seemed to fold inwards, crushed. "Not until we get you something better than that stick." He looked up at Riku in surprise. "You're gonna hurt yourself with it. You need something better if you're going to be a knight."
"Really?!" Sora didn't wait for his response; he pounced on Riku and hugged him around the waist. "Thanks! You're so cool! You're the best!"
He twisted himself out of the hug, patting the younger boy on the head. "Relax. I haven't even showed you anything yet." Sora smiled just the same, the gap in his teeth comical. Riku returned the expression. "I'm Riku, by the way."
He nodded. "And I'm Sora."
2. for Kytha (WOW this is horrible)
Marian laughed, shaking her head. "Maker, no, not Beth. Carver gave her so much grief as a child that I think they always believed her when she pulled something." She smiled lopsidedly. "After he nailed her braid while she slept, I think she deserved it."
He nearly spit out his drink when he laughed. "Oh, I had forgotten about that! Poor Bethany." He set his tankard down. "Poor Bethany."
Marian nodded absently. "Poor Bethany."
Since Marian's departure from her 'reality' - something they both still didn't quite understand or know how to explain - they'd been running with the idea that she was distantly related to Garrett (very distantly, he had to remind people), a lie that no one really quite believed. She knew too much, grew too comfortable with the other companions in such a short span of time. But not everything was the same; this was still a world where Bethany was dead and Carver was with the Wardens, far away from Kirkwall.
"I miss her too," Marian said gently. "I know it's...not the same here, but I haven't seen her in nearly three years, since the Qunari incident." But her sister's absence was certainly felt in the great expanse of Kirkwall, even if she hadn't experienced Bethany's death personally. It was as if a piece of home had been thrown away when she stepped through the mirror.
To make matters worse, Garrett was always being watched by the Knight-Commander and Marian's arrival did not go without careful scrutiny. The Hawkes were on thin ice. There was no peace in Kirkwall. Not any longer.
"I wouldn't want her here," Garrett said, rising to his feet. When he took a step back, it wasn't without stumbling. The two bottles standing upright on the table in front of him spoke to the reason, even if he'd split them evenly with the other Hawke. "Not with Meredith two steps from cuffing me. I wouldn't be able to fathom what would happen to Bethany here." He made his way over to the bed and flopped down. "Void take Meredith," he grumbled, closing his eyes.
Marian chuckled softly, the sound lacking mirth. She stood and followed him over, sitting at his side. "Can you imagine how Father would react, though?" she said softly, scooting back towards the head of the bed. She tugged at his arm until he turned to properly lay down, kicking his boots off along the way. Marian coaxed him to rest his head in her lap as she continued speaking, her smile small and whimsical. "She'd come to collect his children and he'd probably freeze her on the spot. Turn her into a Templar icicle." Garrett chuckled and she smiled, absently running nimble rogue fingers through his hair. "He'd have no patience for her."
"Oh, come now," he said between chuckles. "He'd probably do a damn good job of hiding our magic in the first place. He would just take every opportunity imaginable to be cheeky with her, mock her with false platitudes. He'd be the most insufferable nobleman of them all." They laughed together and he turned, looking up into her face. "You have his eyes, you know."
She smiled, moving a hand down to tug briefly at his beard. "And you have his laziness. You should trim sometime."
He grinned. "My dear lady, don't tell me my stubble bothers you." His smile widened when she laughed.
"That's no stubble, you wretch. It's like moss growing on a stone." She tugged again and he chuckled. "Just like his."
"Didn't Mother used to nag him about the same thing?" One eyebrow lifted suggestively. "Perhaps we are starting to sound like an old married couple. You know..."
"No," she laughed, grabbing a pillow and smacking him with it. "You are impossible," Marian chided as he pulled the pillow away and turned himself to crawl up the bed, resting his chin on her stomach as she leaned back. "Absolutely impossible."
"And you wouldn't have it any other way, would you?" he goaded, amber eyes gleaming like a cat's.
After a moment, she shook her head, settling hands on his face and pulling him up until they were nose-to-nose. "No. I suppose I wouldn't."
3. for Poptart (AU)
Setting down the thick and grotesque lump of papers Marian Hawke called a textbook, her gaze traveled across the room to the doorway, where her twin brother stood leaning against the frame. The sullen look he gave her spoke volumes, emotion flickering in pained amber eyes.
"Who's gone?" she asked as neutrally as possible as she uncurled herself from the chair she was draped over.
"Anders," came his reply as he crossed to her, every step dragging. She stood when he finally came to her side. "I went to his apartment and he's... He's just gone. I can't find him. He won't answer his phone."
She sighed. "He's probably out of minutes. He doesn't get proper paychecks anymore, Garrett."
"I know that! Don't you think I know that?" His tone was gruff, hurt beneath the anger, and he stepped away towards the fireplace. It was a luxury for the old home and one of the few ways to keep warm instead of abusing the electricity bill.
She didn't follow, staying by the chair and settling back to balance herself on the arm of it. "And he's not just busy?" Anders kept odd hours, stacked up his every waking moment with 'patients' and filled any time he wasn't wrapped up in his writing to slink off to God-knows-where. She knew Garrett had an inkling as to where he went. Isabela knew too. But both had been decidedly silent about it, refusing any and all of Marian's questions. They knew her too well, knew she'd probably go storming down to his hole in the wall he called a clinic to punch some sense into his addled brain.
But this was different. Garrett didn't get worked up about these things so easily. He was a grin-and-bear-it kind of guy, always joking, never not smiling. But whatever Anders had done, it'd hurt him, and something heated walked its way up her spine in defense at her brother's expense.
"We...had an argument the other day." She had to resist rolling her eyes. If this was just a lover's spat... "He was asking around about homemade weaponry. Pipe bombs." Garrett looked over his shoulder at her, taking in his sister's shocked face. "I threatened to tell Aveline."
That got her on her feet. "And you told her, right?" Silence. "Garrett!"
"I wanted to," he growled, turning to face her. "God, don't you think I wanted to? He promised he'd lay off."
"And you believed him." He kept her gaze but she could already see him retreating, wishing he'd kept his mouth shut. "He almost killed someone a few years ago. Don't you remember that?" Anders was almost cuffed for it and it took all of Aveline's influence to keep him out of prison. "Do you really think he's going to back off just because you said so? Just because you threatened him?"
Yes. Yes, he did. He wanted to believe the best of Anders, of a friend he'd known for nearly six years, his lover for half that time. "He's a good person, Marian," he whispered hoarsely, voice strained. "He's helped so many people..." Drug addicts, the poor, people who couldn't afford to be seen by the ER, let alone a surgeon. He took in people who needed someone to save them and forgot that he was just as lost and broken as they were. "He's not a killer."
That remains to be seen, she thought bitterly, anger threatening to choke her. One look from him brought her back and she reached out, taking his arm. "Look, I'll ask Isabela and I'll see what I can do. You just keep trying him. Eventually, he'll come looking for you. He'll come back." He gave her a skeptical look and she squeezed his arm. "I promise. Just let me go see her. Okay?"
The silence stretched until he nodded. "Go easy on him if you find him, Marian. Let me talk to him first."
Damn. With a grimace, she nodded. "Fine. For you." Always for you. She turned and left the room, grabbing her keys and coat. "Call me if you hear from him or anyone else, all right?" she called as she went. "I'll be back once I've seen Isabela." And Fenris. If anyone would be willing to help her hunt down the fool, it'd be him. When she passed the doorway, she took one last look at her brother, and then she was out into the streets and getting into her car.
It was not twenty minutes later when Garrett's phone buzzed.
I need you. Come meet me at the church. I'm sorry. -- A