onetrackminds | (no subject)

[Sometimes, in a war on ideologies, it's the smaller, less violent, seemingly innocuous events that are the ones to blindside, beating one over the head with a blunt object, and leaving the subject dazed and bleeding in a gutter. Ironically, not the most non-violent of metaphors to describe the feeling, but Hawke feels beaten enough emotionally that it doesn't even matter much anymore.

It's hard to keep up an emotional distance, to keep feigning a lack of sincerity, to keep denying something when it stares you right back in face in a seemingly mocking display that turns out to be real all along.

Why couldn't dreams do that? She would have more than happily replaced that with the reality that washed over in a wave and gave her no handhold, much less any room for continued denial.

People were dying. Are still dying. She had been so convinced, especially after Anders' and Nathaniel's damn near miracle escape earlier in the month, that while there was no doubting that this planet held too many similarities to Thedas (and in none of the ways that made the place halfway bearable), clearly the authority here was defunct. Old fashioned. Ineffectual.

Hell, the mage had prove that last point with flying colors, when she had revealed that she had been working the planet's prejudiced governmental system from the inside.

Hawke, somehow, still hadn't expected the tales of vehement violence that followed. She should have, since nothing ever seems to change. But they seemed so disorganized, so unlike the Chantry, that to hear that this planet actually had means of acting on their threats was still jarring. It seemed wrong.

For more reasons than the indisputable fact that yes, all of this is, indeed, the definition of wrong.

She could continue to try and deny something like this staring right back at her, unblinking. She could try to be willingly blind, feign ignorance, and then dismiss the claim outright. But she can't. There's a point when even "problems with emotional sincerity" isn't an excuse.

This is that point.

And thus, so she finds herself, uninvited, knocking on ~~Garrett's~~ Anders' door amidst the protests that she try to touch the door itself as little as possible. She has more on her mind than the talking entryway.

ACT NATURAL, HAWKE. Play it cool.]

[Anders has avoided the planet since that one trip, although the temptation is there; not because he feels the need to act, or help (although Justice does), but simply because he'd like to be under the open air again. The ship is suffocating to him, with its lack of windows or any sign of nature. At this rate, he might have preferred finding mice in their apartment.

Although Hawke's confession has most definitely helped. It makes it easier to sleep with someone right there, too, and even easier when they've already exhausted each other. So he seems... lighter, when he opens the door. Tense is his default, but it isn't as bad as it was when they first arrived. After all, he's less alone now than he's been for a very long time.]

Hawke. Are you here to see Hawke?

[which doesn't mean he's expecting those people to constantly seek him out.]

[At least that makes finding him convenient?

She smiles and shakes her head. Looking for Hawke is normally as easy as the mere mention of ale, and while the offer of trying to get all of this out while inebriated is tempting, it's not what she's here for.]

You, actually. You're a wanted man, Anders, surely you're aware of that?

[But no one ever said that emotional sincerity came very easily. Or without trying to at least ease into a comfortable conversation first.]

[that actually earns a short laugh out of him. He's always been a wanted man, by some definitions.]

Should I be concerned, then?

[He opens the door wider to let me in; obviously he isn't.]

Oh yes, very. [Though she follows him in anyway, clearly not serious.] At least that's what I'm told. Somehow I put people on edge. I can't imagine why that is.

I can think of a few reasons. [she doesn't exactly need to be told to make herself at home, so he's just going to sit down on the couch, expecting her to join him if that's why she's here.] But in that case, why am I in trouble this time?

[Ah, right. That. She's known why she came over, naturally, but there's always still a part of her that hopes that she can delay the inevitable with humour. Even if it never works.

She sighs as she throws herself onto the sofa.] You're not. I am.

It seems I owe you a lot of apologies lately.

You do? [he'd mostly just been joking, but now he's just confused. Then again, that seems to be his default state around her.] Did you do something?

More what I didn't. [Maker, she actually sounds serious about it too.] I've just had a lot of time to think--which is a dangerous pasttime for me, I know--and...

[She sighs, runs a hand through her hair, and has to clench her hands up to keep from fidgeting further.] You were right. And you're only hearing that once, so enjoy it.

You don't need to tell me to enjoy that. [although his expression is still mostly confused. Hawke, please, start at the beginning for once.] Although I'm still not sure what you're talking about.

You being right. Blast, now I've said it twice. [She smirks, though it's a hollow half-smile with no real heart. She doesn't necessarily mind being the one in the wrong, even her ego doesn't stretch so far, but getting to the point where she can be open about her mistakes is a long stretch of road. And even then, there's the obligation of not breaking down because she's a damned living pillar. Vulnerability is not an easy thing to learn.]

I ended up speaking with one of the other mages here. Or wizards. Or--whatever they want to call themselves, I can hardly keep up anymore. Anyway, after a rather dramatic display and some discussion about pitchforks--I wouldn't be surprised if they still used pitchforks--I...

[Hawke, it's the moment of truth. Either commit and be done with it, or flounce and look like a fool. Though it's not much of a choice.]

I've been looking at this wrong, and I'm sorry.

[he watches her for a moment, and the truth is, he's still kind of confused. But she also looks so serious, despite the attempted smirk.]

I thought you were already on my side in this. You're a mage-- [oh wait.] Is this about what I'm going to do again?

[Which he's been trying not to think about. The fact that he's actually been sort of happy with Hawke has helped, but it's not an easy fact to ignore. And he's not actually proud of the fact, either.]

Of course I am. But I haven't--been as supportive as I should have. [It is, in part. It's really about the whole situation leading up to it; in hindsight, she'd been rather willingly blind about it, shirking off the manifesto as something he did to fill time (she thought she'd heard it all before, after all), or ignoring the fact that he was getting visibly more tense, even before Justice's grand turning point.] It's not just that, but yes. You might call it a rude awakening. Though I might opt more for the point being a maul crashing into my face. Either way, the point's rather blunt.

[His brow furrows even more as he tries to follow that. It doesn't help that he wasn't there for the time she's referring to - or at least, he hasn't lived it yet. He almost feels as if this apology is meant for someone else.]

I don't think anyone can expect support for that. [if he doesn't support himself ~~yet~~, how can he expect it of her?] From what you've told me, I killed a lot of innocent people.

But is it really still innocence when they see everything that's happened, and stand up to do nothing at all? [She nudges him.] That idea isn't mine though, I must have heard that somewhere...

[It couldn't be a manifesto. Surely not.]

[He looks a little surprised at that.]

You actually read it. And you paid attention? [no one ever listens, it feels like, but--]

I don't think I can judge people for not doing anything. I never used to. [he sounds almost a little too sober as he says it.] And in that case, how do I know when I've gone too far?

Isn't that what the voice in your head is for? [It's not an entirely serious question, and she chuckles a bit as she asks it, but the mood soon shifts back to the serious solemnity the conversation calls for--she can be serious, sometimes.]

Anyway, isn't that the point? You learned, can't they? And going "too far" is really up to how you define that, isn't it? [So she's giving him quite a bit of leeway. Probably more than she should, and certainly more than most anyone who knows either of them would allow without disparaging comment. But she's slowly coming to realize that he has more of a point than the immediacy and shock of the situation had allowed for when it happened, and in trying to rationalize it to him, she's doing the same herself. It's an extreme measure to be sure; at least on that front they both agree. But is it actually wrong, or only seemingly wrong because of that extreme?

And what exactly does that say for Hawke for allowing it to happen? Does this make her an accomplice (even if it hasn't happened for Anders yet)? Was anyone in that Chantry actually "innocent"? Was it a necessary sacrifice?

She's not sure she can answer all that, or if she'll ever really be able to. But it's not something she's willing to fault Anders for in entirety; there had to have been some reason, some logic to it.]

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[actioooon] - idk backdated to earlier this week.

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