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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[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.

[otiosity]

Except you just get the vomiting and the hangover and none of the fun beforehand.

[She frowns at his critical look at her noodle arms! Those were great noodle arms. What a jerk. But he's a jerk who's basically letting her use him as an oversized pillow so she can respect that and keep it to herself this one time. They sit in silence for a few minutes except for Hawke's pathetic sniffling. Then she opens her mouth to say something but sneezes instead. With a groan, she fishes around the bed for a tissue to blow her nose. Then after that dramatic show she gets around to what she was going to ask.]

Are you doing okay?

[Probably not. Since Bruce is gone and that's part of what she's asking about. But his appearance here was not what she expected and she is a little concerned.]

[arcreact]

Magical flu isn't contagious, is it? If you get me sick, I might have to actually kill you.

[ He says, but doesn't actually slide away from her, so it's pretty much empty bluster. He even watches the flailing about for tissues and dramatic sniffling with something (mostly) resembling good humor... until she asks The Question.

The question nobody ever bothers to ask him, so he never has a ready, seamless answer for.

Bruce is gone, returned to a world where nothing awaits him but tragedy. They're in a strange universe full of slavery and other assorted horrors, which his friends keep discovering in very hands-on fashions. They lost an entire year on some fucked up roofie planet, which was partially his responsibility, because how do you not foresee a total power failure in a goddamn spaceship? They're all trapped here by a machine that repeated efforts have barely managed to crack, with no promise if when they'll get home, if ever. And he misses Pepper like a hole in his gut, constantly.

By most definitions he is probably not remotely okay. Which is why: ]

[ Blithely, ] When am I ever not okay? Honestly.

[ It's convenient how their positions mean he doesn't have to look at her when he says it. ]

[otiosity]

[Another sneeze and a groan.]

No idea. Might have to start sharpening your metal man knives.

[She can tell. Hawke might be the best at being devil may care but she's fairly good at reading people who are similar to her. And she knows Tony. She and him are similar to the point where it's a little scary they're even allowed to spend time together. Which is why she knows better than to poke at wounds. She sighs a little bit and shifts and curls up a little closer against him letting him take most of her weight. An unspoken bit of opening up.]

Well, if you ever felt not okay or decide not try so hard at it. I'm around. Even after my shift is technically over. It does get tiring after a bit.

[She's going to look at him even if she knows he's looking away.]

[arcreact]

[ Tony's gonna regret this little heart to heart when he's suffering from a space plague in a few days. Not that this actually compels him to get up and leave. He goes still when she gently calls him on his bullshit, though. Yeah, that probably wasn't gonna work on Hawke, sort of like how it didn't work on him earlier.

Man, how the hell did this arrangement even happen? ]

Overtime? And here you're starting to make me think I'm not paying you enough.

[ Jokes. ]

[otiosity]

[The gentle aspect is a surprise to her. She's not usually good at poking people that way. Varric is. Maybe he's rubbing off on her. He'd be proud. It's the best way to deal with her after all so it's perhaps not surprising that it's the best way to deal with someone similar to her in all the worst ways.

Also please don't get space plague Tony, it's awful.]

You barely pay me at all. Though I'm the fool who sticks around. So it's clear whose on the losing side of this situation. Are you certain this sort of thing is allowed? Seems unfair.

[Jokes and counter jokes.]

[arcreact]

You're welcome to to hand in your resignation any time you want. It's not my fault somebody likes to take their work home with them.

[ He's pretty sure he could fire her from her stupid fake job tomorrow, and functionally nothing would change. It's kind of sad how comforting that is. ]

[otiosity]

Please. I have responsibilities. I'm the most responsible person in the entire department. Without me, it all collapses. Whoosh! A house of cards.

[She sniffles miserably but at least seems very amused at this tangent. Which is better than feeling shitty and unamused.]

Plus, I prefer to resign in person and cuss my boss out. Simple things in life.

[arcreact]

[ If any one good thing has come out of this conversation, it's been pulling Hawke out of the miserable funk she'd been in when he arrived. She's almost back to her usual candor. ]

Even if that's true, I'm pretty sure I have to demand you stay home and sleep instead of giving the Moira's finest minds your germs.

[ It's already too late for him, of course. The finest mind of them all. ]

[otiosity]

[Wow, sometimes sitting and dealing with shit alone doesn't work. It's shocking! A twist.

Still she groans dramatically and slumps against him.]

But sitting alone here is boring and lonely. Plus I have my duties to take care of. Perhaps, it's just a mage cold. Or we could take my bed and put it into the Ingress room?

[That... probably doesn't exist but the part about it being lonely isn't a lie. She spent months stuck in her bed after the Arishok fight. And the long stretches alone were the worst.

[arcreact]

[ He gives her shoulder a series of exaggerated sympathy pats. ]

If we put your bed in the Ingress room you'd never get out of it, even when you're not sick.

[otiosity]

But I'd always be rested for any upcoming dangers. I think it's the cleverest idea I've ever had.

[She sighs and slumps under his shoulder pats. Clearly this is not going how she dreamed. But she's glad for Tony and... glad for Adrien, she supposes. Not that she'd ever be able to say either of those things to their faces.]