IC Contact

[otiosity]

You've reached Hawke! Leave a message on this thing that I don't even remotely understand and I'll fumble my way to figure out how to answer your most important request.

Probably.

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[arcreact]

[ Well, the state of her tells him a lot more than her words do. ]

Okay? What, you want a Motrin? I know a guy.

[ YOUR PLAN IS A MASSIVE FAILURE. ]

[otiosity]

[Uuuuughhhhhh. You suck.]

I don't know what that is but no. I just need to be left alone to rest. Which is a hint I'm kindly giving you.

[arcreact]

Hint received.

[ And yet he doesn't budge. ]

I wanna know what the hell happened.

[otiosity]

You're the science guy. [She sniffs loudly, rolls over and speaks at the wall.] You tell me how people catch colds. Not right now though. Maybe in a few days.

[arcreact]

[ The more she deflects, the more she injures her own case. Comic tragedy. ]

Sure am. I'm also the genius, which means seeing through bullshit when it's presented to me on a silver platter.

[otiosity]

[Her head hurts and arguing with him is making it worse. She inhales through clogged sinuses and runs a hand down her face, leaving it to rest underneath her cheek. Hawke isn't used to being pushed. Most of her friends are content to leave her to her own devices. Even Aveline only pushes so hard even if Hawke knows she could stand to push harder.]

You wouldn't understand. So let's just spare ourselves the trouble of having to talk about it. I'm tired and I'm sure you have better things to do.

[arcreact]

[ Tony just ignores the latter part altogether. Does he have other things to do? Yes, always. Better? Well, that's debatable. ]

And your basis for thinking I wouldn't understand is... what?

[otiosity]

You hate magic, Tony.

[And as soon as she says it, she hates how tired and defeated her voice sounds. She's not in the mood to be derided, even in that joking way that Tony does it. She wishes Varric were here. Varric she could talk to about anything and everything and nothing.

Her head hurts and she closes her eyes as if hoping that will just will him away.]

[arcreact]

[ He pauses.

Does he hate magic? Yes, for sure. Does that mean he wouldn't even participate in a conversation where magic is involved, just because it pisses him off? No - if it were important - he doesn't think that's true. ]

Then tell me what the hell that has to do with anything, and I'll decide whether it's something I can understand or not.

[ The fact that his voice has dropped the glib overtones, possibly for only the second time since they met, means he's taking this terrifyingly seriously. ]

[otiosity]

It has to do with everything! All of this has to do with magic. Everything with me has to do with magic.

[The edge of her sheets combust into flames at her words, at her frustration. For a moment she's quiet, it's been some time since she lost control like that. With a tired sigh, she reaches out to smother the flames with her hand. Then she pauses and cups it into her palm instead as easily as someone would reach out and hold something physical in her hand. She watches the flames dance between her fingers before she answers.]

I fucked up.

[arcreact]

[ At the sudden flash of fire, Tony's instinct is to take a step back, recoil. But he knows exactly how damaging that little gesture would be right now, so - with great effort - he doesn't move. He just tightens one hand into a white-knuckled fist at his side, unlikely to even be noticed. ]

What happened, Hawke?

[otiosity]

[It's good he didn't or else their friendship probably would have died there. Hawke inhales through a raspy windpipe and forces herself to sit up in bed as her muscles and head scream against the movement. She's not going speak to him like some dying invalid while he stands above her. It's a matter of pride. She runs her hands through her hair and down her face, resting her head in her palms.]

I found this arena. On the colony. It was a game where you try to survive and win a prize if you do. The prize was slaves. Provided by the people who... who held us [held me] a few months ago. I wanted to disrupt things. So I entered.

[Her voice is shaking and she hates it so much that she wishes she could run away. But Tony's standing in the doorway and she feels like something small and pathetic cornered against something that wants to devour her.]

[arcreact]

[ Tony tilts his head, ignoring the familiar flicker of anger whenever this topic comes up. His own exploration of the mini colony clearly hadn't taken him to the more unsavory neighborhoods, the ones where this kind of thing is happening so brazenly - probably because he'd been so fixated on the engineering districts. It doesn't really surprise him that games like this are happening here, too, but it does disgust him.

He watches her for a long moment, with head in her hands, sounding wrung out. Then he crosses from the doorway to the bed. ]

I'm sitting here.

[ Which is all the warning he gets before he deposits himself at the foot of the bed, cross legged, like he owns the damn place. He crosses his arms and slouches back against the wall. ]

So, you were there to help.

[ Pointedly doesn't say 'trying to help.' ]

[otiosity]

[When he moves, she tenses and then relaxes when he sits on the foot of the bed. It makes her feel less trapped. Less like he's going to pounce on her with something sharp and barbed. She watches him, a bit wearily still, and the arc reactor reflects in her eyes. They're almost the same color.

Hawke sniffs and pulls on hand from her face and instead wraps it around her knees. The other she rests against her forehead for the cooling sensation.]

Trying to help. The people running it got wind of what I was doing. Trying to stop their game and like most game makers, they didn't like that. So they wanted to kill everyone in the arena. Slaves, participants, me. And I was trying to stop it but I couldn't.

You don't understand what it's like. To reach for something that's there, that's always been there, only to be blocked off. But if I did nothing, everyone was going to die. Time was running out. So I tried something else.

[She exhales and pulls herself into a smaller form.]

Blood magic.

[arcreact]

So... you couldn't use your normal magic.

[ He's guessing. (And someday she'd better appreciate that he used the words "normal" and "magic" together in a sentence, just for her.) ]

You make it sound like a last resort. What's different about it?

[otiosity]

I never can here. I try and then it gets used up and I get... like this.

[She gestures to herself, weak and feverish. Well, using up your mana doesn't make you sick but it certainly makes it easier for your body to collapse into flus and illness. Hawke shivers when he asks, of course he would, but she still hates having to talk about it.]

It's what everyone hates about us. Blood magic attracts demons, demons possess mages, abominations slaughter villages. Or even if you don't get possessed your desire for power overwhelms you and you start seeking the blood of others for your spells. Mass executions. Rivers of blood. ...A blood mage murdered my mother. Tore her limb from limb in some kind of sick experiment.

[arcreact]

Jesus.

[ What do you say to that? It's not something he can even really picture. That's the kind of shit that happens in sick horror movies, not in real life, to real people. Let alone Hawke, who carries herself so blithely all the time. ]

You don't seem possessed or particularly likely to bleed me dry, for whatever that's worth.

[otiosity]

No. But there's always a risk. The next time I dream in the Fade if a demon overpowers me... I'll become an abomination. Or a demon will use my magic to enter our world.

[The thought makes her mouth dry and she notices that he gives her that look. Like this is some really fucked up stuff. Like she's really fucked up and it's hard to breath. It's that funny sensation that's like the room is closing around her and there's no air in it anymore. The cold only makes it worse. Her shirt is sticking uncomfortably to her back with sweat which doesn't help anything, she leans over and rests her forehead against the heels of her palms.]

It should be fine. I don't often dream here. And I don't plan to summon any demons. [She still doesn't look at him as she's trying to remember what breathing is like.] Now you know. Everything you ever dreamed?

[arcreact]

Can't really say it's what I expected, but I'm not feeling anything overly judgmental either, if that's what you're worried about.

[ He's not entirely sure what he'd expected - obviously her injuries were more than just physical, or Adrien never would've called attention to it in the first place - but slavers, magic, blood, and demons are certainly not things he figured would be involved. He can't even say anything particularly comforting, either, because it's not like he has the information to tell her she's wrong, that she definitely won't summon blood demons in her sleep or whatever.

It does answer his questions about her bandaged arm, at least. ]

Did you get them out?

[ He hasn't forgotten about her initial, perfectly justifiable intentions, even if she's wrapped up in her methods. ]

[otiosity]

Yeah. Blew most of the place to bits too.

[Breath, Hawke, breath. She leans her face against the wall trying to let the cool sensation calm her. And she watches him. Her blue eyes tracing his face and his body language for any hint that he's afraid of her or isn't as truthful about not judging as he claims to be.]

And this is my thanks for it. A fever and emotional trauma.

[She's glib. She's joking. She's fine, okay.]

[arcreact]

Well. That and, y'know, saving a shitton of lives.

[ She can search him all she wants, but it's no front; he's not judging. What position is he in to judge, anyway? He's too aware of his own defects for that. More importantly, because it needs to be said, because people are still alive thanks to her: ]

You did good.

[otiosity]

[Hawke shakes her head a little like she's not sure that she heard him right. She doesn't do things for approval. She does things because she wants to or because she's bored or because she feels she ought to. And then once she's done them, someone else is asking for something else or giving her a disappointed look because she didn't do it exactly how they wanted. No one was ever satisfied in Kirkwall.

No one ever told her she did well.

No one really ever comforted her much either. Varric tried. And she'd slept in his bed after weeping over her mother but he'd never spoken to her and let her deal with it in silence as she preferred to do. Tony gets another curious look before she scoots a little closer to him and then slumps against his side, head coming to rest against his shoulder. It's a strangely timid move for Hawke like she expects to be brushed off.]

Why does doing good feel so shitty right now.

[arcreact]

[ The way Hawke's been curled up, focused on making herself seem smaller, Tony doesn't really expect her to move closer - or make any physical contact, period. So, yeah, he's a little taken aback.

But he doesn't move away or tense up. He just pauses for a moment as she slumps against him, then sighs and slings an arm over the back of her shoulders. It reminds him a little of that moment they'd shared on that alien beach, overlooking the wreckage of the Moira. ]

The magic-induced flu has something to do with that, I'd imagine.

[otiosity]

[There's a brief moment where everything about her is tense. She's waiting for the brush off and to quickly pull away and make some joke and then retreat into her corner and mind and have Tony leave her be. But when he wraps an arm around her, she collapses against him even further, curling up against against his side and letting the full weight of her exhaustion overtake her.]

Mmm. I hate being ill. I was ill for a month before I came here. It was terrible. Imagine a month where your arms were nothing but useless noodles and everyone spoke in half gibberish.

[She's trying to be cheerful all the same. She wiggles her arms for comedic effect because noodle arms are funny.]

[arcreact]

[ Always harrowing when the worst doesn't come to pass, isn't it? Tony shifts around so that he can comfortably distribute both their weights where he's leaning against the wall, but otherwise seems content to sit there and let Hawke do whatever it is she needs to calm down. ]

What? [ He gives the noodle arm maneuver a critical eye. ] That just sounds like every Friday night.