entrancelogs | a storm is brewing in the air tonight

Entry tags:

a storm is brewing in the air tonight

Who: Garrett Hawke & Inquisitor Trevelyan, / later you
Where: The outside entrance to the tunnels / the kitchen, bar and anywhere possible
When: October 5th
Rating: PG-ish?
Summary: Hawke arrives in Wonderland, fresh off an expedition
The Story:

» INQUISITOR TREVELYAN » Outside

[He isn't sure when it happened; when the oddly-lit halls of the Deep Roads gave way to the rough caverns he's seeing now. Too caught up in the push to get home, to tell his mother about what had happened to Carver, to survive to pay attention to something like that. But now, as the silence that should be filled with the sounds of Varric spinning a tale to keep them awake as exhaustion fills their bones makes itself apparent, he begins to worry. It's possible he wandered off the beaten path, but someone would have noticed and stopped him. It's enough to have him grabbing his staff off his back, ready for battle in case Darkspawn - or worse - come out of the darkness as he tries to find his way back to the Deep Roads. He calls out into the darkness, creating a small flame in the palm of his hand to light the way.

His voice echoes and nothing answers, putting him further on the defensive. It isn't possible that they just disappeared, it can't be. He calls out again, voice echoing once more. It's sheer luck that he manages to find an exit in the darkness, the flame in his hand doing very little to actually show him where he's going. Unsure of what he'll find on the other side, he exits the caverns without looking back... only to be blinded by the sudden intensity of daylight, narrowly avoiding setting his face on fire as he hurries to cover his eyes. When his eyes adjust to the light, he spins around, trying to figure out where he is. It's certainly not the entrance to the Deep Roads they were looking for, and it's definitely nowhere near Kirkwall, it's too colourful for that.]

Oh, Maker's balls, I'm in the Fade, aren't I? [It's muttered to nobody in particular. Because that's clearly what this is, the colours? The fact it looks like nowhere he's ever seen before? It's definitely not the Free Marches, so the most logical assumption is that he'd passed out and now he's dreaming before he dies.]

» EVERYBODY ELSE » Anywhere

[After an incredibly confusing but still somehow illuminating conversation with the "Inquisitor," whatever that is, and a trip to the closest closet to test it out, Hawke is the owner of a brand new mabari hound. After it actually works, he has to resist the urge to get a dozen of them. With that done, he decides to spend some time exploring what is apparently his new home. He isn't quite sure he believes that just yet, but the magic closets had proven to be real, so hm.

The mabari trails behind him as he starts with the kitchen, stomach making noises because he'd been down in the Deep Roads for who knows how long with very little food. He might be prepared for magic closets and giant mansions that don't look anything like he's seen before, but a modern kitchen? Okay nevermind what Brennan said, this is clearly the Fade. So he might be a little delirious from dehydration... Despite any trepidation, he downs several glasses of water in quick succession, before taking the time to poke through several of the cabinets. With his curiosity somewhat sated, he manages to fix himself several sandwiches, seating himself on the counter as he shovels them down.

After that, he wanders back outside, mabari following as he feeds it a few scraps, to get a better look at the grounds he'd ignored when he stumbled out of the tunnels. He lingers by the Jolly Roger of all things, thoughts turning to Isabela and what she'd do if she was here. He passes through the vendors, eventually returning to the mansion.

He takes a while to actually claim a room on the second floor. At first, it looks like the hovel in Lowtown he calls home in Kirkwall, but once he gets the hang of it, it ends up looking like something fit for a Kirkwall noble.

When that's done, he finds the bar, because of course he does. The mabari's left in his room now, along with his staff and the more bulky pieces of armour, as he settles onto a stool. He finally has a chance to relax, though, his shoulders are still stiff with dread as he tries not to think about everything he's unable to deal with back home. The streak of blood that's definitely not his across his face likely stands out more than anything else, as he sips at a beer.]

((OOC: Hawke can be found just about anywhere in Wonderland on his first day, so if none of these work, toss something at me and I'll run with it! Prose or action is fine, do whatever you want and I'll match.))

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"Not quite?"

The voice speaks from behind him, where Brennan's standing with the makeshift dummy he's rigged up for his morning weapons practices behind the manor. He hadn't even realized there was an entrance hidden there, which made the man's sudden appearance all the more startling.

Still, it's the familiar accent and the mention of the Maker that has him lowering his blade and casting the stranger a curious look. There was something... familiar about him, even though Brennan can't immediately place it.

"You're in a place called Wonderland. And I take you're newly arrived. Are you Ferelden?" That accent is pretty unmistakable by now, after all. At least it seems so to Brennan. ~~Because what the heck's an English?~~

Hawke spins around at the sound of a voice, expecting some form of spirit or demon not... another man. Could still be either, he supposes, if he's in the Fade. It's enough to set him on edge, even if the stranger says otherwise. Demons, and all that.

"Lothering," he explains as way of answering the question, letting the arm holding his staff fall loosely to his side. "Though I haven't been back in some time," he adds after a moment and doesn't offer further explanation. No need to tell this potential demon slash spirit more than it needs to know, after all.

"Lothering?" Brennan echoes the name of the town with a flicker of surprise, because he recognizes it. He also knows the place hasn't existed for more than a decade. Shit, another one. What is it with this place and time travel?

"Alright this is probably going to sound very strange to you, but I promise I'll explain in a moment. What year is it for you?"

Brennan, you're really not doing anything to disprove the 'this guy is totally a demon' theory, and Hawke raises an eyebrow at that question because what. "It's where I was born, and, sorry? What year is? What does that have to do with anything?"

Stop trying to confuse him, demon.

"9:31, of the Dragon Age." Except he answers anyway, if only for the promised explanation.

Maker, another one. Brennan rubs a hand over his face in exasperation before heaving a put-upon sigh.

"It has to do with everything, because where I'm from, It's 9:42 Dragon," Brennan answers patiently. "Hearing your answer lets me know how much I'm going to have to explain and in what context. No, I'm not crazy, this place just enjoys playing with time. And just about everything else."

He dips into a slight bow, respectful and friendly. "But I suppose I should introduce myself first. Brennan Trevelyan, of Ostwick. Formerly, at least. I've spent more time in the Frostbacks of late that I'm practically becoming a native at this point."

"9:42 Dragon," he repeats carefully, trying to keep his tone merely slightly disbelieving instead of outright incredulous. "I suppose the one thing you have going for you is that a trick of the Fade would actually make sense," he adds after a moment, completely ruining any chance of not being completely incredulous.

He watches Brennan carefully, nodding at the introduction, "Garrett Hawke, most recently of Kirkwall," he responds without a thought for what it could possibly mean in 9:42. "I'd say it's nice to meet you, but I'm not sure yet."

....

Brennan blinks for a moment. "Garrett Hawke?" he echoes, looking even more surprised, because that's... not a name he knows. Well. Half of it he does, but he's pretty sure Varric's never mentioned a Garrett before. Carver, yes, but this... suddenly makes even less sense than it had a moment ago.

Was this another matter like Morrigan not recognizing Robyn?

"Uh, you... do you have any siblings? Relatives?"

"That's what I said," he answers, confusion evident on his face. "I know nobody ever uses it, but I do have a first name," he mutters, completely missing why Brennan is so confused.

But the status of his siblings isn't exactly something he wants to talk about with a complete stranger. Folding his arms over his chest, he frowns, "Yes, I do. Shouldn't I be the one asking questions, not you?"

"It's not that, it's just... I didn't realize there so many Hawkes in Kirkwall. Varric's been holding out on me," Brennan quips, even though he's already strongly suspecting that that isn't exactly the case here.

Maker. How is he supposed to explain this without sounding even crazier?

"Three is 'so many?' " he counters, sounding more and more unimpressed with each passing moment. And while it's not unusual for Varric to know, well, everybody by way of having connections everywhere, the way he's talking making it sounds like more than that.

But again, still not doing much to disprove the 'he's a demon' theory.

"Are you going to actually start explaining or I should find somebody else?"

"Well, you're welcome to find as many people as you like, but you're not going to like the answer," Brennan answers, looking mildly frustrated - not with Hawke, but just with this entire ridiculous situation they're now finding themselves in. "This place is called Wonderland. It's run by strange magics that have never been discovered in our world. I've heard rumors say it feeds off of our memories and experiences to sustain itself, although I've heard of so many strange magics discussed in this place, i'm still not entirely certain how much credence to give that. We're trapped here. There's no way in or our unless this place chooses to send us back. And when it does, we forget this place as if we were never here. And it doesn't just pull people from one places, but from all over. Many here have never even heard of Thedas, and those of us that do hail from there... well, we're scattered about over distance and throughout time, it seems."

"I don't particularly care about liking the answer. I just want the answers you promised and then didn't give," Hawke counters, definitely frustrated with Brennan. It's nothing personal but it's hardly the time to screw him around, even if it is unintentional. His brows knit together as he tries to process everything the other man is saying, which is, perhaps not that surprisingly, rather difficult considering he doesn't appear to need to stop for breath. He catches some of it, trapped, never heard of Thedas, something about memories. "I'm sure you think that was helpful, but I'm going to need you to slow and try again. Maybe focus on one thing at a time."

Brennan gives him a look that struggles somewhere between amused and exasperated. He holds up his hand, naming off facts on his fingers in a more organized manner. Come on, Hawke, keep up here.

"One, you're not in Thedas anymore. You're in a realm called Wonderland. It's fueled by magic, apparently, but like none we've ever encountered back home. It seems to have a will of it's own and it controls who comes and goes, and when. Also what happens to us while here. With me so far?"

"I don't need the attitude," Hawke spits, frustrated with the man's flippancy. He does listen, the frustration on his face replacing itself with confusion as he takes in the information. Magic can't do this, it just can't. It's not possible. Sure, the Fade is still almost a complete unknown, but it can't just... do whatever it wants.

"I'm with you, not that I understand any of it."

Surprisingly enough, Brennan just grins crookedly at the retort, holding his hands up in a motion of surrender. "Sorry, the attitude comes automatically, I'm afraid. I've been told I'm impossibly difficult on several occasions. As for understanding it... Maker, I've been here for weeks now and I'm still no closer to understanding it, so I know that feeling all too well. I'm not sure we're meant to. It all sounds like a load of bullshit that's too strange for even Varric to have made up, but here we all are."

He starts moving again, because they're definitely going to need a bar soon. And a lot of alcohol. "So here's what I know from the world I come from. The Fifth Blight was stopped by two Grey Wardens who mustered together the alliances of Ferelden to defeat an archdemon and stop a civil war before it could fully form. In the aftermath, these two Wardens - Alistair and the only daughter of Teryn Cousland - married and became joint rulers. The Cousland Warden we have here is named Robyn and I'm... not entirely certain she's the same as the one we have back home. I've never met her personally, she's been off researching a cure for the taint in my time in Ferelden, leaving the handling of Ferelden in Alistair's hands. But as for the rest of it - at least according to Verric - it was that war which drove many refugees to the Free Marches, to escape either the Blight or the war or both. Among the refugees was a young mage and her family. Her name was Marian Hawke and she escaped with her mother and her brother Carver and fled to Kirkwall with a woman named Aveline, which is where Varric met them. Hawke's actions in Kirkwall were pivotal over the next few years as the world turned even more chaotic - mostly from the rising tensions between mages and Templars - with Kirkwall at its center."

Which is why he's here, confused about who Garrett might be. Varric's never mentioned that name to him.

"Then maybe you should try keeping that attitude in check sometime," Hawke replies, finally sounding as tired as he looks. It's not that he doesn't appreciate the information, he's just tired, hungry, dehydrated and a bunch of other things that don't give him much patience for foolish behaviour right now. Still, though, he follows Brennan as he walks, needing to hear whatever he has to say.

Which is quite a lot.

Apparently when Brennan is told to slow down, he instead hears 'tell me everything you know immediately.' Some of it makes sense - the Blight ending, Aveline, Leandra and Carver. The rest of it, though, namely Marian and this apparent Hawke being pivotal to the state of the world makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. It's more than enough to turn his headache into a full blown migraine, a hand coming up to massage his temple. "There's nobody named Marian in my family," is all Hawke can say at first. It bothers him that somebody knows this much about his life, someone he's never met at that. Varric, obviously, is an exception.

"Considering we're the only Hawkes in Kirkwall, I don't know what to tell you."

Brennan just makes a face.

"Well, that just means that this place is playing with worlds again, I'm afraid." Which means Garrett is probably... Marian in his world.

Maker. That's going to be confusing for a bit.

"It does that sometimes, apparently. Draws us from worlds that are almost identical or similar, but sometimes there's a few key people who are different. When Robyn first showed up, there was a member of her companions here, a woman named Morrigan. Robyn knew her, but Morrigan didn't know the woman in return. She said in her world, her Warden was a Dalish girl, I believe. I don't know what makes things different but sometimes it's just a person or an event that doesn't match up to the rest of what one of us knows."

Hawke can only stare at Brennan in silence for a moment. Because that sounds completely insane and does nothing to convince him this isn't the Fade and he isn't dying a slow death in the Deep Roads.

"So," he begins, starting slowly because there's no way this isn't bullshit, but he's trying to follow it, "what you're saying is, in your 'world' I'm... a woman. Named Marian." In case you can't tell Brennan, he in no way believes anything you're saying.

"What I'm saying is the Hawke I met was a woman, a mage still yes, but definitely a woman. And as Varric wrote a book about her fleeing Lothering and making a name for herself in Kirkwall and uncovering a lost dwarven thaig in the Deep Roads to make her fortune, the only working theory I have right now is... yes. In my world, you're a woman."

Brennan rubs the bridge of his nose because Maker. This is giving him a headache.

Hawke's mouth open and closes a few times as he tries to process, well, all of that. Between Varric apparently going to write a book about him (her?) and the fact that this 'Hawke' becomes famous enough that complete strangers know him? Maker he needs a drink. "This is doing nothing to convince me this isn't the Fade, because it sounds completely insane," but he's mostly in denial right now.

Hawke sighs, dragging a hand down his face. "Why do I get the feeling this migraine I'm developing is never going to go away?"

"Because it's probably the pair to mine right now," Brennan drawls wryly at that, letting his hand fall back to his side again as he shoots the mage a rueful look. "Luckily for both of us, there's a very handy tavern in this place with more alcohol than you can ever imagine. It doesn't solve the confusing clusterfuck this place has dropped us in the middle of, but it makes it somewhat more tolerable after a bottle or two. Care to try it out?"

"Spoken like a true desire demon who thinks they've won me over," Hawke answers tiredly, a hint of a smile on his face. "As long as there's food, I'm there. I don't even care if any of this is real or not anymore."

"Please," Brennan smirks as he motions for the mage to follow him in. "Personally, I think I'd have a lot less clothing on right now if I were trying to seduce you. And I'd have brought the wine and food with me."

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a storm is brewing in the air tonight

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