Ghost Story

[Varric]

"Might have an innate gift," he allows.

[Marian Hawke]

She sighs in exasperation, turning to go. "I can't even talk to you like this. I'm going to go read."

[Varric]

Varric lifts his eyes to the ceiling for a moment. "Give me four minutes-- two of you're willing to crush some hickory ashe and cut it with brine salt, three to one ratio."

[Marian Hawke]

"Fine," she grumbles, and sets about crushing the ashe. 

[Varric]

Two minutes (and six seconds later), the pair sit down across from each other at the small table he keeps in the brewing room for instruction texts. "Alright. Would you like to start?"

[Marian Hawke]

"I've said what I need to say, you're just not listening to me."

[Varric]

Varric musters an attempt at a comforting smile. "I witnessed you manifesting magic, Emma. You can deny it, sure, and I won't tell anyone, but truth is truth no matter what you want to deny."

[Marian Hawke]

"You're lying," she insists. "You have to be. I'd remember. It would change my whole life. You can't just... just forget something that pivotal. It'd be like forgetting my own name."

[Varric]

"Denial is a very real thing, Emma. A powerful thing." He takes a slow breath. "And it doesn't have to change all that much. Not in here."

[Marian Hawke]

She looks down at her hands. "I'd be afraid, my whole life. I'd be always looking over my shoulder, waiting for the axe to fall. Waiting to be caught. Why would I want to go back to that, if I managed to get free of it? Why would I want..."

Her eyes flood with tears, and she wipes at them angrily. 

[Varric]

Varric takes a slow, careful breath as he tries to find the right words. "Are you free of it?" he finally asks. "You're terrified at the very idea of leaving the house. Of the mention of magic. Emma, maybe hiding and running isn't enough. Maybe it's time to try something new, something more." With a wary tenseness to his muscles, he reaches across the table with one hand, palm up in offer.

[Marian Hawke]

Emma looks down at his hand a moment before giving a bitter laugh. "If you get killed, I'll run. Maybe I'll forget all about you and survive. Maybe I have before." 

Still, she puts her hand in his, for now. Only for now. It's no big deal. Just an experiment.

[Varric]

Varric keeps the winces off his face at her touch. Right, your hand is as chilly as a child's after a snowball fight but you've no magic at all. "Deal," he says quietly. "I die, you run. Head for Raplin's Oak, three days north from here. Give my name to the druids there, they'll get you somewhere safe."

[Marian Hawke]

"Hah," she says, pulling back to wipe at her face again. "You wish. Three days, alone, in the wilderness? I'd never make it."

[Varric]

"I'll teach you." He snorts lightly. "Trust me, I'm no fan of the wilds either. I'm a city dwarf, bone and bedrock. But anyone can learn how to rush through three days of mostly gentle forest. Area around here isn't all that bad, not with Nyra and the Oak so close."