Imprints in Stone [AU]

[Carver Amell]

"You're not my father," he snarls. "You have no right to tell me what to do. And you have no call throwing anything at anyone in my family!"

[Varric]

"Being your father isn't needed to care about you," Varric snaps back. "I'm not about to sit here and let anyone- anyone- talk about Marian or Bethany like that, not ever." 

[Bethany]

Anything else either of them might have shouted is interrupted by the sound of a chair being shoved back and a young woman running for the door.

[Carver Amell]

Carver chases after her, frantic. Bethany! Don't, you'll get hurt-- but he saves his breath, running instead. 

[Bethany]

She doesn't get far- she's not as fit as Carver, and her second of head-start is quickly eaten by her being unable to see well thanks to her tears. Before she gets more than five feet from the door onto the street, Carver's gotten her, Varric not far beyond. She struggles a little to get him off her but it's not even half-hearted. It's just not in her to push him away, not right now.

[Carver Amell]

He crushes her close to him, trembling. "I can't," he whispers, trying to hold in his feelings even as they overflow. "I can't, Bethany, I can't, I can't, I can't, please, I can't, I can't." He doesn't elaborate on what he can't do, but there's a void in the pit of his stomach that knows damn well what it is: he can't protect his mother and Bethany both, he can't hold his family together and protect her at the same time, he can't get her help if he has to worry about turning his back on her. 

[Varric]

Coming up to the front of the pair, Varric gets down on on knee so he can look upwards at the hunched over, kneeling humans. "Hey, hey," he says softly. "Bethany, no need to run off. I'm not going anywhere. Neither is Carver near as I can tell." For good or ill. Or maybe that's good and ill. "Take a minute to calm down and we can make a plan."

[Bethany]

Bethany lets out a soft sob, then goes limp. I can't... I can't stop being a burden. I just am. A dark thought flickers across her mind, a way to get herself away from them both that they can't chase her down from, but it fades before gaining any ground. This time. "...alright," she whispers numbly. I'll just... do whatever they want me to. Maybe that'll be better than wanting things. I break everything I want. That'll be better.

[Carver Amell]

"It's okay," he murmurs, struggling to control himself. In truth, feeling her go limp in his arms took a good bit of the fight out of him as well. "It's okay. She didn't mean it. We'll make her-- we'll make her see."

[Varric]

Didn't mean it? I have my doubts. She might not entirely buy her own shit about Bethany being succubus spit, but she meant every word about kicking her out. Seems the sort that needs someone to blame for her woes. That Malcom shit for her being in a rural town with three kids on her own, the Carrac family bankrupt her ancestors for being poor and now Bethany for Marian being dead and Golden Shores gone. "Sure," he says aloud instead. "Just... give it time, I guess."

[Bethany]

Bethany doesn't say a word, just hangs limply in Carver's embrace. What does it matter? Leandra won't ever accept me. Not my magic, not my attraction and not my love for Marian. A curling flame, dark and freeing, kindles in her gut. And I won't accept her. She's not my mother. She never really was. Carver is my brother. Varric is my father. Marian is my... my... my sister. The sex... the sex isn't really the important part. Not really. I loved her. She loved me. That's what was important. Is. Is important. Marian... Bethany starts crying, quietly, until the two males carefully take her back up to the twin's room.

[Carver Amell]

The next few days are interesting, at best. Carver tries again to talk some sense into Leandra before she goes to find her brother, but gets nowhere; he returns to their room subdued, and doesn't speak much for the rest of the day. Varric moves them to his place the day after, nudging them in the direction of Peacher's Way to inquire about their respective new faiths.

Bethany takes up work as an assistant in the healer's hall in Primbrook Temple; for the first two days, Carver walks her there, hangs around the temple, and walks her home, until Varric points out there's a temple of Vangal right there, he may as well make his own inquiries. Especially since Varric needs to make a brief trip back out to Golden Shores.

And so, the third day, after dropping off Bethany, Carver finds himself staring up at Preservation's Shelter, the nearest Vangal temple to Primbrook. He hangs on the steps, looking up at the stone dragon carved around the doorway, as though warning off intruders. I failed to protect Bethany before. I couldn't save Marian. Do I really belong here? Am I good enough?

[Kenta]

"Heavy thoughts, lad?"  The voice is from behind Carver, a deep, deep baritone. Turning around, Caver likely has a few seconds to wonder how someone in such massive fullplate could have possibly come up behind him, almost within arm's reach, without him noticing. Heavy thought indeed. After that first two, three at most, seconds, Carver is likely more focused on the fact that the person that just spoke, that is in said armour, carrying a shield and wearing steel grey tabard with a kite shield design in gold in the center... has a badger head.

White and black fur stripes. Warm brown eyes. Tiny pick ears and a cute pink nose. Heavy clawed hands. Which... are holding a broom. And some flowers. "...art thou well, lad?" the voice asks with some concern. Definitely came from the badger-person too. Yep. 

[Carver Amell]

A... a badger. That's a giant badger. Like in a fairy story. Have I-- have I gone mad? He swallows, looking the man up and down. "Ah-- I just-- I just thought I'd-- I mean, I came to take vows, but I, I have to get back to my Sister before sixth bell--" he stammers, the significance of the noun clear in his tone. 

[Kenta]

"Ah... Intimidating, isn't it?" the badger person rumbles, looking beyond Carver towards the temple. "Nay, not the building, weighty as the stone it's hewn from may be. But the knowledge of what swearing yourself to protection, to guardianship, might bring. Injury and pain, as a certainty. Death for many. Hardship and long toil." He smiles broadly, the expression both menacing and somehow friendly. "Ahhh, but the rewards. The certainty of having done Righteous Good Works. The knowing that one has made the world safer for the innocent, the vulnerable, with thy own hands and back. And, yea, with thy blood and very life if needed."