Blood from Stone [AU]

[Varric]

Varric shudders, far more this time, visibly so. "Not... a problem."

[Carver Amell]

"Gods," he whispers. "I'm sorry."

He closes his eyes a moment, then casually adds, "We should sell the place. It's cursed, I think."

[Varric]

"Can't. Tied to role." He pauses. "Can renovate. Heavily."

[Carver Amell]

Carver gives a mirthless chuckle. "Not like any of us planned to live here -- not before, and especially not now. I'm probably going to have nightmares for weeks -- and I'm sure you're even worse off."

It's a clear invitation, if he's willing to take it. If there's one thing Carver is, it's stubborn where his family is concerned.

[Varric]

Varric shrugs a little, right arm pressing closer to his body under the so very out of place cloak he's wearing. Even Carver knows wearing something so enveloping while brewing is dumb. And the house is a perfectly good temperature. "I..." He pauses, head cocking to the side as he self-asseses. Why do I feel... "Better," he admits slowly, almost but not quite reluctant to say it. Pushing, he makes himself add a little more. "Why am brewing instead."

[Carver Amell]

"Brewing's good," admits Carver. "You do seem a little less tense than before. I just worry about you. Beth and Don and Liz and I all have people to lean on but... You keep trying to do everything all by yourself. I'm sorry I've expected you to fix everything, before. I keep forgetting you're not perfect. Just really, really good."

[Varric]

His dad flashes him a tight but real smile. "Word is great. Or more veries." He looks back down after speaking however, struggling with something.

[Carver Amell]

Carver waits, giving him space to struggle, watching him with a compassionate, slightly sad expression.

[Varric]

That continues for almost a full minute before Varric finally gives up trying to find the words, trying to get them in the right order, the right inflection and tone. Rolling his shoulder, he thrusts his arm out. It's bandaged, the sleeve pinned shut, but Carver can still plainly see that the hand is missing. Not at the wrist even, but midway down the forearm. He only gets a few seconds to look before Varric has it covered again.

[Carver Amell]

"Yeah," he says, real soft. "That's some shit."

He takes a deep breath, let's it out. "It's worse than I thought but I expected... Something like that. Want to tell me how it happened?"

[Varric]

Another long few moments pass. "Magical items. Robust. Flesh... dissolves first. Acid." He shudders a bit, left hand strumming at his side. "Weak. Hours."

[Carver Amell]

He growls, a low, menacing, canine sound. "Fucker." 

Another deep breath. "Sorry. Just... You deserve better than that. Damn him to hell."

[Varric]

"Agreement," Varric says, body tense and his remaining hand moving rapidly but silently. He looks tired, worn. Which is actually more encouraging than it should be, as normally Varric would hide that sort of thing even from family.

[Carver Amell]

Carver takes another deep breath. "You in any pain?" He asks, his voice gruff. "I have heals ready again. I can't... I can't imagine what you went through any more than I can what Don suffered, but if I can help in any way..."

[Varric]

"I..." Varric trails off, sighing. "No... active. Hand. Head. Bones. Not injuries." Technically, of course, the hand is an injury but not a type basic curing spells- or similar magic- can help with. He pauses, then adds, "cut, but small. Fine. Save magic. In case."