The Fade And Fading (Pt 2)
Varric woke to chaos.
“He’s missing! The Inquisitor is missing!” - Variants on that were spouted by dozens of unfamiliar voices.
Sparkler was calm when he finally picked up on the mage’s voice among so many others. The man bitched like a spoiled prince but his acting was right on up there with Nightingale’s. It was doubtless that he’d been just as shaken up as everyone else who’d been in the Fade. Let alone everything at Adamant in general. So far he hadn’t had any kind of major breakdown.
Curly and the Seeker were ordering people around like there was no tomorrow. Which, without the Inquisitor, was probably a lot closer to the truth than anyone wanted to actually admit out loud. Varric certainly wouldn’t want to.
Which made it stranger and stranger the longer he was left alone in his tent. Everyone else was up and moving but no one was coming to get him. He opted not to dwell on just why they most likely weren’t and dragged himself up to join the fray instead. Following the irate snapping of the Seeker’s voice, he tracked her down to ask how long they’d known about his absence.
Dawn, which it still was, and his bedroll had been completely cold. The tent had no damage nor was the bedroll strewn about in any way that suggested anything other than him getting up and leaving on his own. Whether or not that was an actual relief remained to be seen. They were still way behind the man, wherever he’d gone.
Uninjured soldiers combed the area, picking through sparse shrubbery, dunes, outcroppings, and any mines or caves nearby for any signs of the man. It seemed like slow going work but that could have just as easily been the impatient atmosphere.
The sun was still cresting the horizon when people started getting quiet. A static-y sort of quiet that reminded Varric of the aftermath of Haven. When the Seeker picked out where the muted mood was coming from, she shoved a open path more than wide enough for Varric to follow in the wake of. And what he saw…. His mouth was drier than all of the Western Expanse.
Hawke. Stained with blood and covered in repulsive bruises but alive and very much not in the Fade. He was leaning on two of the party of three who’d managed to find him. As soon as he was near one of the fires in the large camp, he lowered himself to the ground and sprawled happily by its warmth.
The third soldier was carrying the Inquisitor. Unconscious but equally alive. Sparkler broke from the crowd first, taking the little elf from the other man’s arms.
“Was he- Is he hurt? What happened?”
“No, he is not hurt at all. The Champion of Kirkwall must have healed him though, he is pale see? Not enough blood. I think he will be okay though.” The Orlesian did their best to soothe the frightened Tevinter, even guiding him towards the healers tents for good measure. Most of their friends went with him but Varric had heard enough for now. His attention, and feet, went straight to Hawke.
“You bastard. You are never allowed to die on me like that again.”
Hawke nodded slowly, “Promise. …I’m getting too old for this shit Varric. …I’m gonna take the girls and go home and leave this saving the world crap to the next generation of stupid people.”
“You very nearly didn’t have a choice in the matter.” He sat down next to the human man with a groan. “…What were you thinking Hawke?”
“…I was thinking… This shit is all on me. The Mage-Templar war. Probably Corypheus. …And the Inquisitor was there. Thedas needs him, and I’m willing to die if it means there’ll still be a world for my family to live in. …Fenris would understand, eventually.”
“Broody is a lot of things Hawke, but understanding still isn’t one of them.” Varric wasn’t entirely surprised when he didn’t get an answer back from the human. When the snoring started up, the dwarf pushed a hand through mostly grey hair. The slight stickiness he encountered was just another reminder of how close they’d been. He was glad he wouldn’t need to look at his hands for a bit.
He never should have asked Hawke to come to Adamant.
Maybe the Seeker would have bitched and moaned but Glowy would have understood.
Dorian was sparking as he paced. Eyes on his feet as he fought the urge to grind his teeth, or to scream, or to find something to burn into nothingness.
How dare the Inquisitor go back to the Fade! How dare he leave camp alone! And without warning anyone! How dare he come back with all the warmth gone from his skin, limp like a corpse…
“Hey, ‘Vint.”
Didn’t he know what happened the last time people went into the Fade? And now, with next to no plausible denial, he’d done it again?! Once was bad enough! Didn’t he realize what this would start?
“Dorian!”
His head snapped towards Cassandra’s voice, “What?! What do you want?!”
“If you do not calm down, you will electrocute someone.” Her eyes narrowed at him, lips pulled thin. The way she had her arms folded reminded Dorian of a rather grouchy nanny he’d had growing up. He could feel his shoulders pulling together even tighter.
“Fine,” he snarled, “it’s not like the Inquisitor just needlessly put his life at risk again after a venture that nearly killed him.”
“Dorian darling, that attitude isn’t necessary,” Vivienne tutted. “Unnecessary though it was, it’s one less life lost. And a rather important life no less, depending on who you ask. Frankly, I don’t think that’s the part of this that most badly needs discussion.”
The male mage sneered at her, “Oh, and what pray tell do you think needs to be discussed so badly?”
“The cause of our Inquisitor’s injuries. And not here. Cullen, perhaps your tent would best serve in this situation. If, that is, you can get us privacy?”
“That can be arranged. …The doctors haven’t found anything yet though? Shouldn’t we let the healers have their turn before we assume anything?”
Iron Bull grunted, “No. No we shouldn’t. The boss isn’t dying.”
“You saw him! He looked dull and he wasn’t as warm as he should have been! How can you know that he’s not-”
“Trust me ‘Vint. He’s fine.”
If Dorian got any more ruffled, he’d probably explode. It was truly magical that it didn’t happen when the Qunari grabbed him by the arm and dragged him along to the Commander’s headquarters.
For as big as the tent was, it was definitely not meant to have this many people in it. Dorian shot Cassandra a very dirty look when he realized she’d silenced his magic. After all, the disrespectful lummox pressed up against his back probably deserved the shock.
Cassandra didn’t even look back at him, “So… Iron Bull and Vivienne seem to know what’s going on. Is there anyone else so well informed?”
“I am Seeker,” Solas said softly. “Though I question the use of telling those who are not as aware.”
“He’d never hurt us. He wants to help. He only hid it because that’s what they made him think was right.”
Dorian looked to the spirit with interest, remembering the taunting of The Nightmare. It had said his amatus was hiding something. …Something he thought would make most of them hate him. “Hid what Cole?”
All Dorian could see of the spirit’s face was his lips under the brow of his hat. “Arulin dhru, len or ladaral. Lin'thanelan. Tel'las sul lanaste melahn tel'dialem.”
Solas frowned deeply at Cole’s words. No one else seemed to have a clue. Predictably.
“So… It’s elfy bullcrap?”
“No.” Solas bit the word out, glaring at the woman.
“Will someone just spit it out?!” Dorian’s hands were in fists at his side, and he all but just resisted the urge to stomp his foot like a toddler.
Vivienne rolled her eyes, “Honestly dear, I’m surprised you didn’t notice. But perhaps that’s prejudiced of me.”
“Blood magic 'Vint. Why else would he have bled all over his arm and nowhere else but lose that much blood? The stains were flowing down from the underside of his arm too.” The Qunari grunted, lip curling the same way it had when he’d been told about The Nightmare.
“He’d never use it to hurt us. He’s a healer, just like his father showed him how.” Cole fussed with his sleeves, looking where Hanhari was lying despite the canvas blocking his view. His hat bent against the heavier leather.
“Vishante kaffas! He can’t be!”
“Yeah,” Sera chimed in, “he’s not crazy! This is stupid. You’re all stupid!” She stuck her tongue out at them all before she ducked down to crawl under the legs of those blocking her exit.
Solas’ face scrunched like he’d a large mouthful of tea as he watched her depart. “Blood magic is not inherently evil. It no more requires the summoning of demons than any other sort of magic.”
“Of course you’d approve,” Vivienne frowned at the elvhen apostate then looked to Cassandra and Cullen. “So, what’s to be done? Cover it up for now and make him tranquil later?”
“Venhedis! We will do no such thing! This is…. No!”
Vivienne gave him a dull look, “Deny it all you’d like dear, but the adults are talking now.”
Dorian spat a threat at her in Tevene and Iron Bull grabbed at his shoulder.
“…I need to discuss this with Leliana.” Cullen’s voice was barely audible as he pushed his face into his hands. “Having some time to think about it will… Well, maybe calmer heads will prevail. For now, we do nothing. There’s nothing we can do out here and as Vivienne so… delicately pointed out, we still need him for now.”
Dorian hissed, “He is not some object to be used as you see fit!” He muttered in Tevene as he pushed his way out of the tent, cursing the south and it’s unspeakable barbarism. He went back to the medical tent where his amatus still lie. …They’d… need to talk about this. But Dorian refused to let the man live out whatever lied ahead of him alone.
…It was a little ironic. The Tevinter and the all-but-divine Herald and yet… Of course, it’d always been ironic, even before this unpleasant little realization.
Dorian got settled for the day by his amatus’ side, holding his hand in silence. For one reason or another, or perhaps several, he’d be left alone.
Arulin dhru, len or ladaral. Lin'thanelan. Tel'las sul lanaste melahn tel'dialem. - Personal belief, blood of the healing. Blood mage. No hope for forgiveness/mercy when uncovered.
