The Amell Legacy: Transgressions

[Marian Hawke]

Marian stares her her, eyes wide. "I'm sure she doesn't," she says, carefully. "What makes you think that?"

[Bethany]

"Th-this m-morning, she- she said that I b-betrayed her. And told me to go away and n-not- not t-t-touch her and..." Her voice cracks and finally gives out on her, tears running down her face, as the full significance of it all comes crashing in. Car is my life. What... what do I even have without her?

[Marian Hawke]

Marian whistles low. "She's delusional, then. You've saved her, you know you have. Getting her away from Mother can only help, and Varric's a master chymist, you know, he can do her tonics that'll help more. She'll understand that soon, I'm sure."

[Bethany]

Bethany is shaking her head, dashing tears away without success. "She can't... she won't... She needs m-more than... you. You have t-to go to her. T-tell her you're you and- she'll need you. She- she took that poison on p-p-purpose a-and that wasn't- she's- she's tried...."

[Marian Hawke]

Marian's eyes go distant as she works over this information in her mind, coming at it from one angle, from another. She spends as much of her brain power as she can on trying to figure out how to handle Carol: studies she's read, books about humans and their psychology, even lists of unusual methods factor in as she tries to figure out how to prevent her trying again.

Anything to keep from thinking what the back of her mind is screaming at her.

"Lightsong's with her now, so she's safe, absolutely safe," she says absently. "I'll have to speak with Varric about some ideas to keep her safe long enough to get her stable with the new tonics. My master's smarter, but she's no good with people."

She keeps the spoon in the oatmeal, keeps her hand on it, her other hand smashed into her chin, the pose careful, studied, to keep her hands from quivering too much.

[Bethany]

Beth nods a little, head bowed and tears dripping steadily into her breakfast. "I..." She swallows hard, heart breaking, head swimming. "She... more than just... She..."

[Marian Hawke]

"Beth," cuts in Marian, her voice hard. "Is it urgent? You need time to rest, if it's not."

[Bethany]

Beth's head snaps up, eyes wide and wild, to stare at Marian without seeming to actually register her.

[Marian Hawke]

"There's a good girl," says Marian, more softly. "Keep your head up. Keep moving forward. We'll get Carol feeling better. I promise you."

[Bethany]

Instead of keeping her head up, she bursts into great sobs. 

[Lux]

As Marian gapes, one of the other diners hurries over, narrowly beating the other three from approaching by dint of being younger, fitter and a table closer. Dark red skin, like a cranberry, glossy black hair flowing down to his waist, tiny, almost cute horns, a lithe, trim body clad in Bastionite robes (but no holy symbols otherwise, and he has a Cirenite symbol on a necklace), the young man kneels next to Beth. He's careful not to touch, his voice low and gentle, like sweetened milk mixed with a dash of spiced rum. "Hello miss. What's your troubles? Perhaps I can help?"

[Marian Hawke]

"Alydra's fuck," mutters Marian, swallowing. "Please don't cry, Beth, I-- Sorry," she says as the man sits. "Sorry, she's had a rough week. Someone tried to hurt her last night and I've been a stupid oaf and reminded her."

[Lux]

The tiefling's eyes darken for a moment. "Ah. Miss, what's you name? I am Lux. Or, I suppose should full formality be de-sired," shite, turn down the flirting ol'chap, 'hurt' like as not means sexual, "then I am Lux Zyra of Coalside, currently a part-time cook here at the temple and struggling playwright." And part-time whore, but that seems ill-timed a reveal.

[Marian Hawke]

"Mary za-nobody, and this is my half-sister, Beth," she says, rubbing her temples. "Mumsy never did admit which of the nobles sired me, but it wasn't Beth's daddy, that's for sure, since he was only a cook for the zi'Amells, never a noble or even a za'Amell." 

[Bethany]

Bethany can't manage a return greeting, barely able to be grateful that Marian is covering for them in some fashion or another. The tangled story goes right over her head, only barely catching the names.