Imprints in Stone [AU]

[Varric]

Varric has the scroll lifted and two of the words out before that thought hits. His words change instantly. "Marian, please," he begs, voice cracking.

[Marian Hawke]

And she, too, pauses, halfway through her incantation. She takes a deep breath, and for a moment, all her mind can focus on is staying still, not leaving -- reminding herself she could, but not leaving. ("Please").

When she gets herself together enough to speak, it comes out as a dry, cracked whisper: "You're not listening. You don't believe me. I can't make you understand."

[Varric]

"Then explain. I know I can't understand, not for real, but I can get close if you help me. Because you're right, I don't believe that you can't be helped. That you can't get better," Varric says, heartbeat slowing.

[Marian Hawke]

"I can't," she whispers. "To tell you would take.." a smaller room, in the dark, huddled in a blanket "more than I have" a week to recover.

[Varric]

"...do you trust me enough to take a potion?" Varric offers. "I have a magic one that will dull your emotions completely for about thirty seconds and some alchemical ones that deaden it fairly well for about an hour or dampen it slightly for eight."

[Marian Hawke]

"No," she whispers instantly, horrified. Hours, days, weeks, blending into a blur, weeks of my life I can't remember, desperate to regain something of my mind (must have started hiding it by instinct) (must have chosen to stop but I don't remember) months years gone all gone (never again)

[Varric]

"It's... it's not like... It's non-addictive and you remain in control of yourself the entire time. No memory loss, no mental confusion, nothing like that. Minor side effects, all of them along the lines of sour belly or eye ache. But I won't force you." Varric smiles gently. "If you prefer, we could just have some whisky."

[Marian Hawke]

Whiskey. That her mind latches onto. "Better not. I might kiss you."

The joke slips out before she even realizes she's going to make it -- and judging by her internal reaction, she wouldn't have made it if she'd had a tighter control over herself.

[Varric]

"...honestly, right now, that wouldn't be so bad. It'd mean you're here at least," Varric says with a shrug. Helps that I took the long lasting, mild alchemical tonic myself (not like I have much appetite right now anyway). "Seriously though, I could use a shot or two and it'd be nice if you join me."

[Marian Hawke]

She swallows, finally looking up at him -- though for only a moment. There's a window in his study. You could slip out in an emergency without needing the spell. Unless the trouble happens in the hallway. No windows there, but the walls are closer together. Still have the spell. Could still get away. 

"Alright," she says quietly. "I... promise you won't hold me here, make me stay the night?" I want to trust him. 

[Varric]

Varric takes a slow breath, then tosses the scroll onto the bed at Cindy's feet. "I'll ask, beg and bargain, but I won't hold you here," he promises.

[Marian Hawke]

She glances at the scroll, realizing only then what it was. He was prepared to hold you here -- how can you trust him? her busy mind asks. She doesn't have an answer, so she doesn't bother: she just gets to her feet, moving toward the door, following him. 

Trusting him.

Once in the study, she tugs a chair near the window, into the corner; she settles on it, one leg dangling, the other foot planted on the seat of the chair with her, her arms wrapped around it, one hand grabbing the other wrist. A pose that takes up as little space as possible, in the corner where she has two walls at her back, but near the window, in case she has to flee -- something she's highly conscious of as she makes a mental map of the room, just in case. Smaller spaces seem to comfort her, but she needs a way out, an escape route, even as she routinely avoids looking up at the night sky.

[Varric]

Varric glances at the window, then at her. "...you want some fresh air?" he offers, knowing her looks aren't about circulation. Need for small places, need for escape routes. Imprisoned. Got used to it.

[Marian Hawke]

No. Air's better in here. Never got used to nature (easier to run if you don't have to unlatch the window). She nods, once, not getting up. (his space. let him control it, let him underestimate you)

[Varric]

"One of the best things about being back in the city is that it isn't the country," Varric comments as he flicks up the latches and cracks it open a few inches. Various sounds from the city at night enter the room but it's quiet, muted. That done, he heads for the dry bar. "Got any requests?"