Imprints in Stone [AU]

[Marian Hawke]

She blinks at him. "I know. I'm okay." (no, I can't, I can't do this, please, no) "So, Seeker Helene?"

[Varric]

"Mari- Liz." Not healthy, hiding in a cover (guess she really is family- maladaptive coping method and all). But she has the right o call herself what she likes. "Guess you've forgotten how good I am at reading people, huh?"

[Marian Hawke]

(no, please, stop looking at me, stop seeing me, no, please, don't, I can't) Liz sighs, raking a hand through her hair again. "I know." (please, please, no) "But I'm trying to make conversation."

[Helene Dakesh]

Helene clears their throat. "This one has discovered a course of action that will help the patient."

[Varric]

"Family doesn't make conversation, they talk," Varric says gently before looking at Helene. "What does she need done?"

[Helene Dakesh]

"The bones suggest bringing her to Summerhill Sanitarium."

[Marian Hawke]

That hits Hawke like a bolt of lightning. She sits up, her breath coming rapidly, her hands balling into fists. "No," she says, and her voice is different: deeper, more menacing, more... aggressive. 

[Varric]

"Talk to me Liz," Varric says gently. "What's the objection?"

[Marian Hawke]

"No, no no no no no," she moans, fighting to swallow the panic. "No. No sanitariums. Not ever again."

[Varric]

"Alright," Varric says instantly. "We can help her at home then. We can... order in whatever we need to help her." Varric tries to catch Helene's eye, then gestures in drow sign language with his hand, careful to keep it hidden from Marian. 'Mind trap. Hot season hill echoes danger/torture place. Reroute path.'

[Marian Hawke]

Liz swallows, panting as she stares at him for a moment, mind working furiously. (Trust Varric) wins out after a moment, though strong contenders include run, flee the city (can't leave Cindy) save yourself (not leaving her) and kill them all, get rid of the witnesses, before they trap you.

"Take her," she whispers. "Please. Save her." 

Then she is gone again, falling backward into a rift in space. 

[Panis zi’Ulthlis]

Adonis shifts uncomfortably in his new clothes- catfolk don't wear a lot of robes, especially given his previous occupations (thief, bouncer and brothel manager)- but stills as the leather seat he's in creaks ever so softly. This is, by far, the nicest, most richly appointed room he's ever been in- those soft leather seats, gorgeous tapestries and paintings, thick carpets and obvious magical wards built into the very walls. The man across the desk from him isn't helping. Dapper as fuck, chin resting on his palm and a faintly amused, faintly curious expression on his face. "Would you like something to drink?" The Lord Hand of Nyra asks politely.

[GamesMaster]

What's the right thing to do here? Say yes, accepting his hospitality? Say no so he doesn't feel obligated to serve me? Should I say yes anyway just to make the Lord Hand hand me a drink? "I'm fine," he says, warily, watching the Hand. I feel like a street kid. Like I have no manners whatsoever. What do skins even do in their spare time? He's so rich, it's not like he has to hustle to make ends meet.

[Panis zi’Ulthlis]

"As you like," Panis says easily, a smile quirking his lips. "Thank you for meeting with me so quickly. I like to have a one-on-one with each new Light but it's rare they are able to do so this soon after my invite."

[GamesMaster]

Because most of them are busy, but he thinks I do nothing. Don wouldn't have ever thought he'd be in a position to speak to the Lord Hand, let alone put him off a few days. "I aim to please," he says politely. "What can I do for you?"