entrancelogs | 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.))

Threaded | Flat

[ She doesn't recognize the Champion of Kirkwall. Why should she? Not only has she never encountered anyone named Garrett Hawke in her life, a handsome young man with a bizarre streak of blood across his face, but, according to the Inquisition, Hawke is supposed to be a woman. Robyn does, though, stop short as if she's hit a barrier when she spies the mabari trotting down the hall.

Oren wages his stumpy tail at her side, eager to greet (or attack, honestly) his fellow Ferelden hound. ]

-Oh. [ Her eyebrows shoot up and she lowers the book that's been in her hands as she eyes the stranger appraisingly from a distance. ] ... I didn't realize anyone else in the mansion had a mabari.

[ Or even knew what they were, save Dorian, Brennan, and Morrigan. Robyn lays a hand on Oren's head and he sits obediently, though still very much wanting to investigate. ]

[ He shouldn't. Philip really, really shouldn't. The whiskey swirls lazily in its glass before he takes a sip, and cigarette smoke curls above him in the dark, in his usual dark corner, almost too dark to make out the words he is trying to read. And that ought to be enough, silent to himself, and he really

really should not-- ]

Is that a fashion choice, or did you just forget to wipe somebody's remains off your face?

[ But he does, in the way of greeting what looks like a recent arrival, because what other form of socialising could possibly come easy, if not the one angling for lacerations of his own. ]

"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?~~

_{[Two steps into the kitchen, the lanky Englishman finds a furry rear end blocking his way. Watching his master and the food he's eating attentively, the mabari has planted itself between the counter and the entrance like a roadblock, stubby tail twitching every once in a while in eagerness.

Why is there some abnormal-looking canine in the way? Victor asks himself this first, then lifts his eyes and asks it of the man sitting on the counter, also a bit abnormal-looking.]}

What's all this, then?

_{[Not just the mabari, but everything Victor observes in a sweeping glance--the archaic, roughed-up armor, the staff, the fatigued, bruise-colored skin under the pair of dark eyes. This is the second time this month he's walked in on something that makes company in the kitchen rather hard to ignore.]}

[During his few short months here, Dorian has become quite fond of the bar-- particularly their ability to get almost anything as well as the fact that nobody who works there is familiar enough Thedas to judge him when he asks for something a bit below his station. Any stigma ordering a Ferelden beer might have brought with it back home is now forgotten, and he just so happens to be taking a long swig of one when Hawke enters, pausing midway with the mug to his lips before setting it down, examining the new arrival with a raised eyebrow.

Even without the heaviest parts of his armor on, the rest of it is still recognizable to him, to a certain degree. There's something familiar about him, and yet--

Hmm.]

Long day?

[Considering how intent Hawke looks on gripping his own beer once he's settled, Dorian supposes it's as good a place to start as any.]

the hallway because i'm a rebel

bar because where else

SHOWS UP LATE WITH STARBUCKS

no subject

bar because Dorian has a problem