It was creepy how his voice carried in this vast expanse of...well, nothing. Hawke glowered from his perch, yet again gazing over a huge empty valley, lava falls on one side and thundering waterfalls on the other. In the middle were mingling tide pools, wandering shades, sobbing ghosts, and little demon spiders that chittered as they clambered over each other. Watching them made his skin crawl.
The Fade just sucked.
The battle with the Nightmare had been epic, at least. After he'd made sure his companions - Varric, let us at least be honest - made it out of this hellhole and were, relatively, safe, Hawke had turned his attention, strength, and all of his magic towards that loathesome demon, and after a titanic struggle between the human mage and the thing spawned from an eternity of bad dreams, horrors, and fears, Hawke had at long last struck the final blow, obliterating the creature along with any demonic entities within a fifty mile radius.
That had been...forever ago.
After regaining his stamina and his wits, he'd determinedly set off to find the exit and get back to where he was needed, but that particular mission had been truncated by one simple fact: there was no exit. Which had, of course, put a massive kink in operations and forced the former Champion to do what he always did: analyze the problem, hunt around for a solution, and execute.
Stage Two was beginning to stretch mighty thin.
He'd lost count of how many days had passed - Time apparently had little meaning in the Fade. And it seemed news had traveled of the Nightmare's eradication; not even the Pride Demons had made an appearance. Hawke decided to be flattered instead of worried on that score. But the scenery was getting old, and he'd passed the same wretched pillar about twelve times already, and despite the fact that he wasn't at all hungry, thirsty, or even aging probably, he was more than ready to blow this shithole and get back to Skyhold.
There was only so much sheer boredom a man could take.
The Fade was unsettling to say the least. He did not find comfort in the odd geography or the denizens. While he was willing to ignore the spirits, he found himself often at odds with the demons here. At least until he seems to cross some.... unseen and unfelt barrier where there were no more demons in sight. It was... strange.
It reminded him of Hawke, so it felt as if he was going in the right direction.
A nagging fear in his mind was certain they might get trapped here, but he much rather be trapped with the man than without. He cannot imagine his life if he is not at his lover's side. So he pushes forward, climbing rocky outcrops and dodging lava spills. Climbing floating mounds of dirt to get to higher perches so he can survey the area. He knows that there is something playing tricks on him, or it was just his hope getting the better of him, but he feels certain he sees Hawke a number of times, but when he gets to where he saw the man, no one is there.
Even when he thinks he found where the Nightmare once resided. It was empty and blown apart, but he could not find a body. The stubborn hope in his heart persists as he continues his search.
Time has no meaning here, he feels like he wanders for days without need for sleep or food, without any rest. He pushes forward, forward, forward. He will find him.
And eventually he catches sight of something - no someone, they're far from him, but the closer he gets they don't vanish as they have before, seeming still solid and turned away from him...
He'd thought more than once about just blowing a hole in this wretched place, hopefully one decently close to either Kirkwall or Skyhold, so that he didn't have far to travel to find one of his beloved companions. He'd actually gathered his will once or twice, preparing to do just that, but common sense thwarted the actual execution of such magic; with his luck, it'd backfire and end up rendering him down for soup stock, instead.
His luck had been just that abysmal lately.
And although the temptation of trekking to the Black City - always just over the far horizon, blast it - and giving the Maker a few pieces of his mind loomed large a few times, but he really didn't want to end up like Corypheus, jaded, demonic, and just bad-tempered all around.
But he definitely wouldn't recommend this place as a vacation spot. Not in the least.
Although he did jerk up with a frown when he, at long last, heard an actual, real voice calling his name. Hawke frowned, scowling, but turned around and scrambled down from the boulder upon which he'd been "resting", squinting hard at the oddly familiar shape on the ridge about half a mile - as distances went in the Fade - and blinked. Several times.
And then his heart gave an abrupt, chilling lurch.
He quickened his steps when the man came down from his perch and seemed to be staring at him, reacting to him. It wasn't some fade dream or something messing with his mind for once. It was really him.
And Hawke had the audacity to sound... was that surprised?! Fenris his relief and anger in equal portions.
Still, he's trying to close the distance, but as much as he walks, it feels like it's not closing. Something else he noticed about this dammed place, eventhough he knew he was crossing the space, the world would warp and make it seem like it wasn't so.
"No, I am clearly a desire demon here for you in his visage," he calls out. "Yes, Hawke. Do not stand there and make me close this distance alone."
Holy fucking Maker... "Fenris!!" It was a glad cry this time, followed by a shout of hearty laughter and one Champion of Kirkwall sliding ungracefully down the rock face, waving his arms and yelling his bloody head off. The terrain, apparently taking exception to anyone's happiness, tried to keep shifting and wavering, but Malcolm Hawke's firstborn wasn't having any of that shit.
In the Fade, Hawke's magic was almost quadrupled in strength as it was in the waking world, and when he slammed the blade of his staff into the writhing ground with a definitive "Hah!", it seemed the shockwave rattled the entire realm. Cliffs collapsed, boulders bounced, but the plain stretching to the far horizon, and Fenris, obediently smoothed and became flatter than a griddlecake.
And across it galloped one Rowen Hawke, staff still in hand but his blue eyes blazing like twin sapphires, only dimmed by the brightness of his smile as he hurried towards his elven beloved.
The power of Hawke's magic took him by surprise, making him stumble and still for a moment. But it became apparent quickly what it was that his lover was accomplishing with such action and with a quiet smile, Fenris helped close the distance.
He needed to remember the color of his eyes, of his smile, of the brightness of his emotions. His champion, the man who saved him both body and soul, who loves him when Fenris still often feels unworthy of it. It mattered not in this moment because as he heard his lover's excitement, his heart filled with a unrepressed joy.
While rarely one for big displays of affection, Fenris did not hesitate to put his arms around his lover the second they were close enough and lift him in an embrace to remember his weight, his body.
"I knew you were not dead," he says softly, green eyes bright like moss in sunlight. "You are far too stubborn."
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LOVE IT
Date: 2024-12-20 12:38 am (UTC)It was creepy how his voice carried in this vast expanse of...well, nothing. Hawke glowered from his perch, yet again gazing over a huge empty valley, lava falls on one side and thundering waterfalls on the other. In the middle were mingling tide pools, wandering shades, sobbing ghosts, and little demon spiders that chittered as they clambered over each other. Watching them made his skin crawl.
The Fade just sucked.
The battle with the Nightmare had been epic, at least. After he'd made sure his companions - Varric, let us at least be honest - made it out of this hellhole and were, relatively, safe, Hawke had turned his attention, strength, and all of his magic towards that loathesome demon, and after a titanic struggle between the human mage and the thing spawned from an eternity of bad dreams, horrors, and fears, Hawke had at long last struck the final blow, obliterating the creature along with any demonic entities within a fifty mile radius.
That had been...forever ago.
After regaining his stamina and his wits, he'd determinedly set off to find the exit and get back to where he was needed, but that particular mission had been truncated by one simple fact: there was no exit. Which had, of course, put a massive kink in operations and forced the former Champion to do what he always did: analyze the problem, hunt around for a solution, and execute.
Stage Two was beginning to stretch mighty thin.
He'd lost count of how many days had passed - Time apparently had little meaning in the Fade. And it seemed news had traveled of the Nightmare's eradication; not even the Pride Demons had made an appearance. Hawke decided to be flattered instead of worried on that score. But the scenery was getting old, and he'd passed the same wretched pillar about twelve times already, and despite the fact that he wasn't at all hungry, thirsty, or even aging probably, he was more than ready to blow this shithole and get back to Skyhold.
There was only so much sheer boredom a man could take.
no subject
Date: 2024-12-26 10:33 pm (UTC)It reminded him of Hawke, so it felt as if he was going in the right direction.
A nagging fear in his mind was certain they might get trapped here, but he much rather be trapped with the man than without. He cannot imagine his life if he is not at his lover's side. So he pushes forward, climbing rocky outcrops and dodging lava spills. Climbing floating mounds of dirt to get to higher perches so he can survey the area. He knows that there is something playing tricks on him, or it was just his hope getting the better of him, but he feels certain he sees Hawke a number of times, but when he gets to where he saw the man, no one is there.
Even when he thinks he found where the Nightmare once resided. It was empty and blown apart, but he could not find a body. The stubborn hope in his heart persists as he continues his search.
Time has no meaning here, he feels like he wanders for days without need for sleep or food, without any rest. He pushes forward, forward, forward. He will find him.
And eventually he catches sight of something - no someone, they're far from him, but the closer he gets they don't vanish as they have before, seeming still solid and turned away from him...
"Rowen?"
no subject
Date: 2025-01-05 09:06 pm (UTC)His luck had been just that abysmal lately.
And although the temptation of trekking to the Black City - always just over the far horizon, blast it - and giving the Maker a few pieces of his mind loomed large a few times, but he really didn't want to end up like Corypheus, jaded, demonic, and just bad-tempered all around.
But he definitely wouldn't recommend this place as a vacation spot. Not in the least.
Although he did jerk up with a frown when he, at long last, heard an actual, real voice calling his name. Hawke frowned, scowling, but turned around and scrambled down from the boulder upon which he'd been "resting", squinting hard at the oddly familiar shape on the ridge about half a mile - as distances went in the Fade - and blinked. Several times.
And then his heart gave an abrupt, chilling lurch.
"...Fenris?!"
no subject
Date: 2025-01-07 10:37 pm (UTC)And Hawke had the audacity to sound... was that surprised?! Fenris his relief and anger in equal portions.
Still, he's trying to close the distance, but as much as he walks, it feels like it's not closing. Something else he noticed about this dammed place, eventhough he knew he was crossing the space, the world would warp and make it seem like it wasn't so.
"No, I am clearly a desire demon here for you in his visage," he calls out. "Yes, Hawke. Do not stand there and make me close this distance alone."
Or was Hawke not happy to see him..? Too bad.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-12 08:06 pm (UTC)In the Fade, Hawke's magic was almost quadrupled in strength as it was in the waking world, and when he slammed the blade of his staff into the writhing ground with a definitive "Hah!", it seemed the shockwave rattled the entire realm. Cliffs collapsed, boulders bounced, but the plain stretching to the far horizon, and Fenris, obediently smoothed and became flatter than a griddlecake.
And across it galloped one Rowen Hawke, staff still in hand but his blue eyes blazing like twin sapphires, only dimmed by the brightness of his smile as he hurried towards his elven beloved.
"--Fen...holy Maker, Fenris!"
no subject
Date: 2025-02-03 04:58 pm (UTC)He needed to remember the color of his eyes, of his smile, of the brightness of his emotions. His champion, the man who saved him both body and soul, who loves him when Fenris still often feels unworthy of it. It mattered not in this moment because as he heard his lover's excitement, his heart filled with a unrepressed joy.
While rarely one for big displays of affection, Fenris did not hesitate to put his arms around his lover the second they were close enough and lift him in an embrace to remember his weight, his body.
"I knew you were not dead," he says softly, green eyes bright like moss in sunlight. "You are far too stubborn."