Imprints in Stone [AU]

[Marian Hawke]

"No," he whispers, his voice hoarse, rough "Not a girl. Not a pretty half-elf. Something different. Eli. Garrett. Princeton."

[Varric]

Not a girl? Sure. "Garret Tethras, my... second cousin. Dwarf merikos. How's that sound?"

[Marian Hawke]

"Yeah. Yeah." 

A deep breath. 

"Do you.. want to see.... before? To see the... the body?"

[Varric]

"...want? No. Think it's a good idea? Yes? Just... just in case I ever need to help someone with a body that's been hurt in certain ways," Varric replies carefully.

[Marian Hawke]

"Okay." Another deep breath. "Okay."

A moment later, he can start to hear it: a low keening, a moan of despair and fear. Sounds like she's stripped off her disguise. 

[Varric]

"Close your eyes. Try- try to picture Garret. What he'll look like," Varric says quickly as he opens the door. Gods. He carefully, quietly grips his wrist with the other hand, clamping down tightly to help himself focus.

[Marian Hawke]

The body, as he called it, rocks back and forth, shuddering violently as it keens. Crushed in one hand is a magical hat, an artifact that can change his appearance at will. The other hand unbuttons some of the shirt buttons, to show the chest, more of the skin.

The hair is dyed blood red, with lighter, almost pink highlights, chopped short and irregular. The skin is marked with blood-red tattoos, abstract shapes that include corrupted glyphs, bits of rune. None of the runes are complete, none of them active or magical, but all of them speak of filth, of corruption, of fear and pain. The teeth are filed to points, as are the nails; there are silver rings in the ears, six in each, as well as bars in the eyebrows, nose, lip. As the shirt falls open, he can see bars gleaming underneath, someplace he doesn't wish to think too hard about.

Marian was always a thin, gawky girl, but the body now is bloated, pudgier. The hand that crushes the hat is missing a finger, and all over the face are ritual scars, little raised dots of scarification. The legs have longer ones, raised, old scars, approximating the stripes of some great cat, vanishing under the body's shorts. Along the inner arms and on the stomach are newer scars, fresh healing cuts: short, deep gashes that remind him of Carver's leg when he caught the pair of them self-harming.

There's a tight velvet collar around the body's throat, approximating the collar a slave might wear.

The worst part are the eyes: open, unseeing, lost, desperate. Marian's dark eyes were expressive before -- but this is a depth of pain he never wanted to see in them.

[Varric]

Varric forces himself to see, to remember, to catalogue. Have to notice everything (gods gods gods), can't forget any of it, need to know (not always the answer, is it?) so I can plan. Need to be able to fix this (how?). Scars, cutting, tattoos, piercings, discoloration, maiming. Alright. "Alright. Show me- Let me met Garret."

[Marian Hawke]

The hand snaps up immediately; no sooner has the hat touched the head than the form changes, the brilliant coloration winking out. It shifts for a moment before settling on a look: a merikos dwarf, with red-brown hair that matches his, a face something like Marian's and something like his own. His hair is braided back against his head, and he has one gold earring, in the left ear, with a small star-shaped charm dangling from it. He sags with relief against the wall, covering his face with one hand as he collects himself, taking a few deep breaths. 

[Varric]

"Hail, cousin," Varric says softly. "You... you want to head back to my place and... take a nap with your girl?" I need to find the twins and... explain. Gods.

[Marian Hawke]

Garrett nods, lowering his hand. He looks tired, but mostly worn, drained, as though from travel. "A nap sounds marvelous," he says, his voice lower, more rich and full than Liz's. "Thank you, cousin."

[Varric]

Varric nods carefully, offering a hand to help him up. "Of course. Anything for family, cousin," he says simply. 

[Bethany]

Bethany had never really gone to Cattown often, given their discomfort with skins. A few visits, mostly just to met-up with Don or Ari, then off again. The longest were definitely the four visits going over the records that lead to Don's new job. None of those visits had every included Merrill and certainly never with her being carried on a plank of wood stretched across Hunter and Silence's backs. She'd had the presence of thought to cover the elf with her cloak, but the drips of blood on Silence's fur are... worrying, if the look of devastation and worry on Bethany's face wasn't enough. The human doesn't talk to anyone, just heads directly for Don's house, desperately hoping he (or Ari at least) are home.

[GamesMaster]

Better -- before she gets there, she spies Don, wearing his stole, his bearing dignified and almost kingly, discussing something with a tall, black-furred catfolk with a knife at each hip over her cargo shorts. His back is to her, so it's the stranger who spies her first; she crouches a little, reaching for a knife as she hisses a warning to the young Light.

Who turns, takes one look at Beth, and sprints for her, not bothering to call off his guard. "Beth, what's wrong?" he demands as he closes the gap, the woman on his tail.

[Bethany]

"Merrill, it's- she's- I can't- heal her. I- I used all- all of my spells," Bethany gasps out as soon as he's close enough. "Just- heals, then- bleeding again. I don't- don't know what happened." She sounds terrified and fragile, only just barely holding on by the tips of her fingers for her sister's sake. Now that someone else is here to take over, she's quickly losing even that much of her grip.