Ghost Story

[Marian Hawke]

Her expression darkens a little. "So he's still Carver. Good to know." A pause. "Wait, when did you meet Carver? I didn't meet him, did I? I think that would have triggered some recollection..."

[Varric]

"And downstairs. Right now."

[Marian Hawke]

"What."

[Varric]

"Yeah."

[Marian Hawke]

"I-- he--- the fucker stabbed me!" 

[Varric]

"Yeah, that came up," Varric says curtly. "Which was news to his daughter, evidently." He winces. "Oh. Uh. You have a niece evidently. And a nephew, but he's got exams at his university so he's not here."

[Marian Hawke]

She takes a deep breath, then another. "He stabbed me. He killed me. Fifty years ago. He's probably moved on. He's probably changed a whole bunch since then. I shouldn't judge."

[Varric]

"The hells you shouldn't," Varric protests, frowning. "I mean, get all the new facts, study the changes and then judge, but as his victim, damn right you should judge him."

[Marian Hawke]

"You have to understand, it feels like it was ten minutes ago that he stabbed me. But it wasn't and that's not fair to him."

[Varric]

"And pretending otherwise wouldn't be fair to you," Varric points out gently. "But that's not the important thing right now. Focus on you. Focus on adjusting to being alive. Try and steady yourself."

[Marian Hawke]

"Alive... really alive. Part of me feels so strange at how thing ache and feel uncomfortable, having sensation again... but part of me thinks that's normal, when was it ever not like that?" She sits up, finally, stretching a little. 

[Varric]

"I can only imagine," Varric admits, having been lucky enough to never actually die despite all his adventuring and helping Helene. "I, uh, I have some clothing over on the table," he adds, a faint blush creeping up his neck as he studies the floor carefully.

[Marian Hawke]

"Oh," says Marian quietly. "Right. Sorry." 

She gets up, moving to the table to pull on a dress, leggings. She makes a bit of a face. "It's a little loose on me," she admits, not realizing how similar she is in size to her niece and how weird that will be.

[Varric]

"It's Marianne's. Ah, your niece. I may have helped myself to their luggage," Varric adds cheerfully, hoping to move past the name drop. "The, uh, underthings aren't hers though. I'm no professional but they aren't exactly complex projects." You're rambling.

[Marian Hawke]

"Neice?" asks Marian, quietly. "Marianne? He named his daughter after me?"