Thread: Fools Rush In, Where Wise Men Never Go (Vandesdelca x Diamonds)

Garret Hawke had been quite the man about town ever since he had acquired the Amell Estate following the chaos of the Deep Roads Expedition. Not everything had been sunshine and ale and ridiculously tall stacks of money that he most certainly didn't sleep on no matter what the rumors that mostly came out of Varric Tethras' lying dwarven mouth said. Nope, no truth to that matter at all. Suspiciously specific denial aside, things were not all going swimmingly. Carver was dead, Bethany had been taken by the Circle, and tensions were starting to pick up in the city. Sometimes it was all Aveline or Mother could talk about. It was hard to ignore the darkness that clawed at the edges of Kirkwall, picking at threads and seams that might send everything spilling out at once... It was times like this that Hawke decided to go see his favorite girl. HAWKE! the Hanged Man as a whole chorused as he swaggered there was no other word for it, really through the open doors, ajar as they were on every Market Day. He was a sight in sleek black and silver, bright steel blades on his back as obvious as they ever were Fiddle and Second Fiddle , respectively. He was a common sight about the place and it was with a devil-may-care grin and a salute that he greeted the residents of the Hanged Man. 'Lo, good folk! Only come to see my favorite girl, and her name is amber! Hawke said, approaching the barman with a spring in his step, ordering up a pint of their finest amber ale as he was wont to do. He'd scarcely had a sip of it before he became aware of a particularly stumpy interloper at his left elbow. Afternoon, Varric. Aw, Chuckles. How d'you always manage to know it's me? Varric asked as he pulled up a stool next to Hawke's, washing away the soreness in his arm with a pint to complement Hawke's. A second was ordered and sent back into the bowels of the tavern, just as the pirate had requested. It's your cologne, Varric. Eau de Lowtown is a fetching scent but the peculiar mix of the Blooming Rose's finest along with your chest hair wax... well, I just have to follow my nose and the trail of dead plants and fainting women to find you, Hawke said. So long as they're not dead women and fainting plants, Varric said. Nah, that's Fenris. Varric snorted into his mug. So, what's been going on as of late? Any juicy tales of gossip? Of demons or dragons or Darkspawn? Or, be still my beating heart, demonic dragon Darkspawn? Hawke asked with a grin. If only he knew what Archdemons were. Ah -- remind me to tell you about Denerim sometime. Nothing around here I'm afraid. Things've been pretty quiet. I'd almost call it boring if the last time things got exciting didn't end with my brother going crazy and trying to kill me, Varric said. The dwarf ruminated a long moment, amber gold milling about the bottom of his cup. ... though. Though? Hawke asked. Oh, nothing. 'Scuse me, Varric said as he pushed the mug away. He stood, heading back off to the opulent room that he oftened at the Hanged Man. He slipped in as unobtrusively as he ever did, turning a shining eye onto Merrill and Isabella. Speak of the devil. He's out in the main room. Devil? You told me you hadn't heard anything like that. Where is it? I could do with a scuffle, Hawke said, peeking around the edge of the door he had cracked open in Varric's wake.