The Amell Legacy: Transgressions

[Marian Hawke]

"I'm never going to be good like you." She finally pulls back, looking away. "Is that enough? If I'm not?"

[Haliel Lightsong]

''I... have some, ah, unique... advantages in being good.'' She lifts her head back as well, a faint blush on her cheeks. ''You be good for you. That'll be enough, promise.''

[Marian Hawke]

Marian nods. "Alright. Then, then we'll help each other from now on."

[GamesMaster]

Varric had been left in the dark. For most, that's a bigger issue than it is for him; he could see, if there was anything to see other than smooth white walls with no window, a door with a barred window and shutters closed on the outside. He is used to small, dark spaces; no dwarf worth his rock salt is claustrophobic. (Have they remembered the incident that sent him here? Which is worse -- their being negligent enough to forget, or their doing this intentionally?)

He hasn't been fed, and there's no external clock, but he has a good internal sense of time, can count off the minutes on his fingers when brewing. He knows he's missed meals -- three, at least, by now. Maybe four, depending how close it was to supper when they brought him in. They left him cuffed, his hands loosely bound in front of him so he doesn't cramp, but cuffed nonetheless, with magical locks on the cuffs instead of a keyhold he could pick. He can get out, if he dislocates his thumbs. He's proven that, and then slipped them back on, so they don't catch him. 

He's bored. That's the worst part. Well, that, or not knowing what's happening to Helene in his absence. Thankfully, the one partially relieves the other: he's come up with five hundred forty seven separate ways to kill Renaud for that kick. 

As he paces the length of his cell, his companion nods at him, keeping count of his pacing. The figure was perfectly ordinary, an ancient dwarf sitting cross-legged on the little bed in his cell, watching him. 

Wait. Since when did he have a companion? 

[Varric]

Varric blinks a few times, swiftly assessing the flow of his memories. No gaps, no skitters in his pacing. So... ''Magic. Teleportation. Maybe illusion, but teleportation is easier. Who are you?'' For some reason, he does't feel too worried or wary about the sudden intrusion. 

[GamesMaster]

"One who means no harm," says the dwarf, gently. "One who seeks answers, just as you yourself must."

[Varric]

Varric gives the newcomer a flat look, unamused even with the sense of detachment that blankets him. ''Try again, but use only one word to answer. Who are you?''

[GamesMaster]

"They-that-are-Alydra's," the figure says simply.

[Varric]

The dwarf starts to sneer before something makes him suddenly realize that the... man? somehow means more than just being a Seeker. This guy isn't just another Seeker working here. There's something... off there. Not bad, just... not... ''Not mortal. Tulwath.''

[GamesMaster]

"Am I?" he asks, spreading his hands. "How curious. Is this the question you wish to ask me?"

[Varric]

''That would imply I have a limited number,'' Varric observes carefully, eying the probable tulwath.

[GamesMaster]

"Does any mortal get infinite questions?" he wonders aloud. 

[Varric]

''If reports of the afterlife are indeed accurate in regards to it being eternal, yes.''

[GamesMaster]

"Really?" he asks, eagerly, leaning forward a little. "Truly, have you ever seen an accurate report? On any topic?"

[Varric]

"Accurate as per the definition as accepted by the majority of common speaking mortals, yes." Varric grins broadly, enjoying himself after the endless hours of boredom.