“I know of the Great Game. In Ferelden, there’s a running joke that it’s simply what the Orlesians use to refer to the habit of sticking their heads so far up their asses they see murders in games of chess.” She clicks her tongue and chuckles, letting herself enjoy making a joke. It may be a bit much to keep talking about how things were in Ferelden, but she’s been more than a little homesick, and it’s always entertaining to poke fun at the Orlesians. “I’m not quite looking forward to that ball, either. But I believe Josephine would have a fit if you didn’t go, Evelyn.” She places her hands in her lap again, resting her staff against the stone at her side. The white stone atop it glows, just softly. “As is, I wouldn’t touch anything that you don’t know what it is. I’ve heard good thing about Orlesian wines… but terrible things about Orlesian ham.”
Hawke adjusts how she’s sitting, her smile still present, though it fades slightly as she thinks on Evelyn’s words. There are plenty of wounds in Kirkwall she had been unable to heal; though she had never been a healer at heart, she had learned, and the result had been seeing too many wounds. Her eyes flicker to the woman’s daggers for just a moment, thinking of her own, abandoned somewhere on the road when the templars had caught up with her. “You’re right.” She responds. “Healing is particular, though. There are plenty of ways to kill a man, Evelyn, and too many of them involve festering wounds.” She shrugs, just once, then gives a slow breath as her smile gradually returns. “I’ll do my best if you ever break your leg out here, but I’d recommend making sure the camp has proper healers if you intend to do anything like that.”
The Inquisitor’s words have her feeling slightly surprised. She’s not wrong in Corypheus’ intentions, but Hawke is more than a little bit surprised to hear Evelyn’s last sentence. It’s hilarious that I’m the one they chose to hope in. It strikes a nerve, and Hawke utters a breathy sigh, absentmindedly running her fingers over the brand on her forehead before they run through her hair. “They believe in you because of what they’ve seen. You walked out of the Fade, carrying the mark of Andraste.” Here she pauses. She’s not certain what she believes, honestly. Her faith in the Maker, in Andraste, has been more than shaken since her time in Val Royeaux. But who but the Maker could bring about such a hero? “And since then, you’ve ended the war between the mages and templars. You saved hundreds of lives at Haven. Whether it was the Maker’s hand or not, seeing you persevere gives them hope. People can live without plenty of things, but people can’t live without hope.”
origamiaround
gamechangershow
