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transport log » ❝ welcome to Exsilium ❞

Date & Time: Oct. 24th
Location: The Initiative Hold
Characters: Everyone.
Summary: New Transports have all arrived and have been led to a banquet room within the Hold.
Warnings: None.

NOTE: This takes place during this plot, though the plot log will not be posted until tomorrow. The Transports already in game have returned from their mission to find the island overrun with monsters. The log is set within the safety of the Initiative Hold, however, so while characters will be aware of what is going on outside, they can otherwise go about their business as usual if they choose.

--

You've just been hustled and bustled through mazes of information and literal, wide corridors of the Initiative Hold and you've been equipped with your weapon—be it a gun, a sword, or even your existing powers. They've handed you this light netbook and a small pouch of coins (or a debit card, if you're more inclined), and there are several Transports before and after you going through the very same motions. You can hear the Greeter's voice as she walks alongside large groups, telling them all about the history of this place and sharing with you your purpose here in a hurried and urgent tone. She looks worse for wear, pale and gaunt, though is putting a great deal of effort into maintaining her energy and professionalism for the new Transports. "I am truly sorry that you came at such a bad time. That wasn't intentional, I assure you."

She leads the way through the Initiative Hold. The walls bear the occasional claw mark as a sign of the misfortune that has plagued the island, but it hardly seems deserted anymore due to the other Transports recently returning from their mission. After turning several corners, you arrive in a large room that has been transformed into a makeshift banquet hall. The food presented is perhaps not as luxurious or bountiful as one would hope, but it is certainly enough to go around, and isn't inedible by any means.

"We wanted to try and make this up to you," she explains. "It's meagre, but we did not have much time to prepare." There are a number of Transports already present, some looking over the long banquet table, others seated throughout the room at large, round tables meant to each seat eight people. The mood is grim, despite the Initiative's efforts to raise morale.

Before the Greeter turns to leave, she is reminding you that it will be perfectly safe to explore the Hold, the courtyard, the housing building, and even a several block radius around it. "Hopefully things will be back to normal soon."

Welcome to the banquet. Welcome to the Initiative Hold—and most importantly, welcome to Exsilium.

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"Right!"

To say that things have gone from bad to worse--well, that's something of a dramatic understatement. Usually the kind that Garrett enjoys, to be honest, so perhaps it's fitting that whatever cosmic joke is being had at his expense plays out like this.

He stands, with a rather crooked smile colored by bitterness and some measure of irony, spreading his arms wide to accept whatever comes.

At least it's Fenris. He's always been able to count on him to...well, be himself. And he's never expected him to like him much. It occurs to him that if he isn't expecting a mage either this could end in blood. Somehow that isn't as troubling as it really should be.

"You too, of course. Yes, Fenris, it's me, Hawke. I am a mage, not just playing at some delightfully tasteless masquerade. You were expecting someone else, I'm going to guess. Well, I'm afraid you're going to be just as disappointed as I am." He tilts his head, almost challenging. He would have thought after Bethany things really couldn't get worse, and they haven't. It's just a new, fascinating shade of dissonance. (Garrett likes him, in spite of everything. He realizes what's going to be truly terrible about this is not discovering that the mirror of himself has somehow made a mess of things. It might be finding out that he didn't, after all, not here.)

"Come on. Say your part. Are Aveline and Merrill after you? Varric comforting Sebastian? Maybe my brother? And the dear Knight-Commander Meredith? I'm ready."

The immediate confession - rather, outburst - makes Fenris take pause, however brief.

A quirk of a brow, and a shift to his stance - though the suspicion in his stare doesn't exactly go away (whether fed by the entirety of the situation, or by the fact that this Hawke isn't the Hawke he knows, yet is unmistakably Hawke, all at once). When he finally speaks, his voice is leveled and masked, unwilling to give hint to his thoughts.

"No. You are not what I was expecting." green eyes narrow, but a fraction.

In all of this man's likeness to Fenris' ally, it is not mere likeness that seems utterly familiar. Mage or not, this man - or one of him, the elf was hardly sure by now - had helped him, proven himself a friend, more than mere ally. He could've given him up to Danarius; he certainly had the chance. But he hadn't. And memories like that can hardly be forgotten.

Especially not when they were so recent.

But this only just lessens Fenris's hostility. Not by much, however, as the challenge is met. "Say my part? And what is there to say, Hawke?" The name twists on his tongue - as though it belongs to the one before him, and doesn't all at once. "That what that mad woman had said makes little sense? And yet what you say is only proving her point?"

Brows draw together then, as he takes a sharp step forward. "Or that this all could be some elaborate construct of the Fade? That you could be a demon, twisting my memories?"

...But he would've gotten some sort of wind of that by now, would he not? Still, he had to say it, had to send the clear warning.

The elf shakes his head now, scoffs. "All this feels far too real. And yet I can hardly accept it. "

Once again, Hawke is shamed by not giving Fenris quite enough credit. That, and for assuming he wasn't as freshly arrived as Garrett was, although now that he knows that it's a greater relief than not being (probably fairly) punched in the face. He stands down, shaking his head.

"I wish this were the Fade. I--" but he's not really sorry, not enough to say it to Fenris, who has such a keen sense for insincerity. "I shouldn't have snapped at you. I have no idea what's going on."

And it's comforting to find that Fenris remains as standoffish and sharp as ever. Not distant, like Anders, or a miracle laced with a curse, like Bethany, or a stranger speaking his future. He knows Fenris won't be feeling the same comfort, but Garrett clings to it all the same for now.

"I don't even know what I was expecting. Listen--I know you. I think half the time you think I'm an idiot, and the rest of it you just tell me so, but I trust you. I understand if it's not offered back. I do know that we're both in the same unpleasant boat, and I could use a hand at the oars." He offers hos hands palms out in supplication. "Would you sit with me? I'm afraid I don't have any wine, but standing up to have this little chat is making me feel rather self-conscious. Humor me."

Edited 2012-10-31 00:53 (UTC)

Oh, a punch was most tempting, at first. But the elf offers a single nod. No, Hawke was not apologizing, nor did Fenris expect him to. And that, much like what Hawke spoke next, only made him the more familiar. A somewhat dawning relief, but not one great enough for Fenris to acknowledge.

"A remarkably agreeable sentiment," because within the Fade, they would know who to kill. They would know they were not meant to trust their senses. They would be able to get out.

This place? Did not seem to have such luxuries. But he listens to Hawke and maybe - just a shadow of a smirk - tugs at the corner of his mouth before he deadpans: "You are an idiot, Hawke." But he takes a small pause, in light of consideration as he moves to take a seat without much comment.

Trust, though? Yes, he trusted a Hawke. "I - am unsure how this is possible," you coming from the same place as he, yet not. "But you do not seem to be far from the Hawke I have known. Perhaps..." He hinges slightly forward as he brings his hand to his chin, cants his head lightly. "Tell me then, what do you know of Danarius?"

Perhaps this was a test of a sort before they proceed; perhaps this was a certain way of trying to determine how their 'worlds' differed.

The entire concept alone was still highly...unsettling.

But if they were in the same situation, both of them were going at this blind. Fenris could at the very least, draw idle comfort from that.

Edited 2012-10-31 01:53 (UTC)

Garrett can't help a sigh of relief when Fenris sits down, and follows his lead in doing so. Count on him to be sensible, when even he was losing his head. Not pleasant, but Fenris being pleasant would have been a definite sign of ruin and horror.

And then he speaks of Danarius, and Garrett's usually mild, lightly teasing expression hardens into a cold mask of determination.

"The general plan is that if we ever have the distinct misfortune of meeting him, I hold him down and you tear his heart out of his chest. If he even has one."

Since whatever differences of opinion they have, one thing they certainly share in common is an abhorrence of slavery. And it's more than that, if Garrett is honest with himself. Fenis is a friend, however fractious things can be. A friend literally scarred by horror. He has no fellow feeling for this other mage. Even if he only had a sliver of compassion in him, watching Fenris move and speak and bristle with wounds would be enough.

"I hope that, at least, is a constant. Otherwise I may have to have words with your Hawke, if you hadn't already."

The response makes Fenris avert his gaze - distant, perhaps - though the loyalty he has felt for his companion back in Kirkwall stirs now.

"Then I assume it will please you to know that Danarius is dead; I am - truly free," his tone was surprisingly, void of satisfaction. In fact, it lacked any emotion.

Because inwardly, it was turmoil. Because inwardly, Fenris had never been more lost than he was now. Because not only was Danarius dead, but his sister too. Any connection to his past had been torn away by his very own hand. But if Hawke bears no knowledge of this, that is how it is to remain; Fenris saw no use in dwelling there; it would not be to their benefit.

"You helped me. And in that, you do not appear any different from what I have known." Now that is a relief, and a welcoming presence. He turns his stare back to Hawke now, considers the man with a pinch of greater familiarity. Gratitude, however subtle. "You may be a mage, but just as such, you know the risks," slightly, he inclines his head. "I will stand with you, my friend."

Garrett doesn't reply quickly. He gives it some thought first; Fenris tends to bring thoughtfulness out of him, one way or another. He confronts Garrett in ways that make him uncomfortable, refuses to let things go, demands respect in his peculiarities, and otherwise is usually anything but easy to get along with. And it's a valued gift, in the end, although Garrett lacks the skill to say it. He only hopes Fenris knows--but then, this one might not. All that has direct bearing is that Garrett knows him well enough to sense that something is off about how he speaks of Danarius, and that it's a thing he ought not to touch uninvited.

"I'm glad," he says, quietly, and with certainty. "I need a friend, all things considered. My sister--"

He huffs a ghost of laughter, leaning on the table, and pushes his plate of cakes towards Fenris.

"Well. No use dwelling, is there? We just have to endure this, like everything else." But he smiles at Fenris all the same--weary, but affectionate, and openly trusting. "I'm sorry you're here, but I'm happy to see you, as little sense as that makes. We'll make it home one way or another."

This Fenris is had witnessed, from time and time again, that Hawke is an ally; for whatever reasons - beliefs, sincerity, or something else entirely - he had not turned his back on the elf. And for that, he is grateful beyond end - and loyal, in turn. That is not about to go overlooked, however tentative his trust, for now.

Fenris bears no illusions - he is not the easiest individual to deal with; but he is what he is, and he cannot be expected to be any less. Besides, such expectations would be thoroughly disregarded.

Perhaps with a few bottles of wine, and a particularly talkative mood, Fenris might let slip of what troubles him - but that is a conversation for another time.

At the mention of Hawke's sister however, his brows crease. "She is here as well?"

Not that he is particularly known for refined table manners, but the plate of cakes is only met with a cool and passive glance. He is not eating any food here unless he is starving.

There is a ghost of a smirk to the other's ghost of a laugh. "Yes, something you're quite good at." Enduring. If his experiences are anything to go off of. But the thought of finding a way home. It pushes on a frown, as he tosses a look - filled with distaste, no less - to the others, around them. "Something tells me it will not be easy." Not that that is...surprising, or anything.

"She is," Garrett says, moodily, and since Fenris isn't taking any of the cakes Garrett picks at one himself. (Later, he'll realize why Fenris isn't eating, and track him down with a few bottles of wine to make sure he's succumbed to hunger rather than stubbornly starving himself to death--but for now it doesn't occur to him, only the thought that he needs to add alcohol to his tentative list of necessary supplies.

As if it wasn't already there, but still, it's the thought that counts.)

"Regardless--if it were easy, it wouldn't be any fun now, would it?" Garrett dredges himself up from his own troubles to smile a little more surely at Fenris. The Maker only knew that if he could keep himself together, the very least Hawke could do was return the favor. "We save this world like Kirkwall, accept our accolades, kiss a few lovely men or women, and head back. Shouldn't take more than a month, at the outside. After all, they didn't have us before."

"Oh--Anders is here, as well. Don't worry, I checked, it's not his fault." Since there's always time for a little teasing. Always.

"I...am sorry," it's sincere enough; though with Fenris 'sincere' only goes so far, when he hardly believes such words carry much weight. Bethany may be a mage, but she is better than most; certainly better than Anders. It is more than enough trouble to have just the two of them stuck in such an unpredictable place, let alone someone like Hawke's sister, as well.

(Hawke no, Fenris needs no babysitter.

Just a bottle of wine. It acts like a pacifier)

Closely, with practiced passivity, Fenris watches the other, briefly. This is an not a standard situation - whatever standard might be in any of their vocabularies - and it is not wonder that under the easy smile there's a layer of unease. Your priorities are, however, commendable, if not slightly amusing. "I understand well the urge to end this quickly, but it will do us well not to be reckless either." Hey, he can be patient if the need truly calls for it. It's not always to charge at the tiger blindly!

Though in knowing that Hawke is a mage, there is an underlying (and genuine) concern that he would be tempted by blood magic; in his experience (as he will readily repeat), the temptation of power is often too great to ignore. While he has little doubt in Hawke's mettle, what if...?

Though speaking of mages, his nose twitches into a brief scrunch. "The walking abomination? Here, as well then." A beat. Oh great. He can hardly control his excitement. "Anyone else? From our world?"

"You're adorable when you do that," Garrett tosses off lightly, wrinkling his own nose, "'Walking abomination'."

He never seems to mean anything by these comments, and he doesn't think to imagine a world where that might not be the case. Flirting is reflexive, more or so, and he doesn't spend any time prolonging it before moving on. Why would he?

(~~But how else is Hawke going to fulfill his nurturing instinct?~~)

"A man named Nathaniel Howe, who I owe quite an apology. A mess of royalty, the alleged Hero of Ferelden, maybe others. No one we know, unless you correspond with Queen Anora. One moment." Garrett gets up to secure some of the clear liquor Anders brought by earlier, and returns with a clean glass, since he doubts Fenris will have anything to do with Anders' used one. And somehow he'd just know, Garrett is sure of it.

"I have no idea what this is, but it hasn't killed me, and I'm of a much more delicate constitution than you are. It has a kick to it." He leaves the bottle on the table after topping up his own glass, but not drinking from it yet. "And when have you ever know me to be reck--don't answer that."

"I'm not -," there's a definitive huff, though he isn't irritated at this. Bemused, more likely. "Still speaking your mind, I see."

And it was always as such. The sarcasm, the quick tongue and the (~~arguably~~) charming remarks were commonplace, and it continues to be a mounting relief that this Hawke seems to be just as fond of teasing and joking as the other.

Good. That certainly makes him a little more predictable. Though not by a terribly whole lot.

He listens, watches the other's motions without remark. Notes the glass - that mage's no doubt - the clear liquid. "Your assurance is...inspiring." Hadn't killed you yet, Hawke. Though if those who brought them hear wanted them dead instead of alive and fed, they would've done so with...cleaner ways. Still tentatively, he's reaching to pour himself a small amount - a taste, before he's turning a a corner of his lips again. "Are you certain you don't want an answer? Might be interesting - to compare."

"Remind me why we're friends?" Garrett rolls his eyes, but it's all for show. The reason is, of course, things like this, and his continuing gladness that whatever else his mirror self has made a mess of apparently he managed to befriend Fenris all the same. It's one point in his favor, though Garrett still intends to punch him directly in his smug, stupid face.

There's probably something deep about self-loathing, there, but he refuses to think about it.

"The only answers I want are about what in Andraste's name these idiots think they're doing with this. Honestly. I do realize I'm fantastic, but they could have made the whole process easier by bringing the stabby one you know." If he was in charge he'd have a few changes to make around here, that was for sure.

"You have no idea how tiring it is to be infuriating people by existing."

The question, naturally, warrants no response but a snorted hmph.

Yes, it is best not to dwell on the entire concept. Multiple dimensions, multiple timelines extending out from one place. It's an unsettling concept, and does not help with anyone's self-perceptions.

"I do not think easy is something they know well," is his grim remark. "If at all." He sits forward, taps an armored hand against the surface of the table. "They need help to fight their war, according to what I've been told. Perhaps such a power deserves to lose." Not that Fenris is particularly bitter about being basically kidnapped, and thus may be drawing premature conclusions. Not that he holds grudges, or anything. That'd be absurd.

He is silent again, for a moment, before shooting another gaze across the floor. "We will not be learning much here. All this feels ... staged."

But... "And what has that mage told you? Other than of his miserable plight."

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transport log » ❝ welcome to Exsilium ❞

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aksjfh your hawke is great i can't

YOUR FENRIS i keep making gleeful noises oh my god

akhsf THANK YOU;; and ohman this thread is hitting right in the feels

ugh for real, these two

/holds them!

at least they always have wine

ALWAYS THE WINE

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