entrancelogs | ☼ Arrival; ☼

Entry tags:

☼ Arrival; ☼

Who: Bethany Hawke and [open]
Where: Outside the caves!
When: Now...ish?
Rating: PG-13 for now!
Summary: Yass queen

The Story: Her head was swimming. The battle with Orsino had taken nearly all her magical power, but it was more than that -- seeing him use blood magic to take the corpses of all the mages that she’d known living and working in the circle to turn himself into an abomination -- it was too much. Too much on top of the templars and countless innocent people who had no doubt been killed when the Chantry had been obliterated. Her heart ached as if her mother and brother had died all over again. So much senseless violence because of Meredith, because of the extremist templars -- she squeezed her eyes shut and when they opened again, she was surrounded by a cave of brick icicles. What fresh hell was this?

“Garrett!” Her voice echoed hollowly in the cave and she spun, panicked. “Garrett!” What if this is some sort of last-ditch effort that Orsino learned from that horrible beast, Quentin? Was she going to be trapped in some sort of labyrinth for the rest of her (probably very short, very painful) life? She scanned the room and let out a sob of relief at the sight of the entrance to the cave, scrambling up the incline with little care for whether she was letting the barbs of once-molten stone bite into her skirts. She rushed toward the point of light, awkwardly using her staff to half-vault her toward the ever-growing gleam.

Blissfully, the Circle-mandated wear was spelled to be durable and once she made it to the sunlight, she skidded to a stop and took in her surroundings, staff at the ready.
“Show yourself!” There had to be someone here, there had to be some meaning of this that could be explained. The pain in her heart was too fresh for this to be heaven, and she had been to the Fade -- this was not it. Impatient at the lack of an answer, she slammed her staff down on the ground. A bolt of flame shoots from the spot it hits, landing nearby in an explosion of sparks.

“I don’t have time for this!” She needed to find her brother, because nothing about this place made any sense.

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Well, that's ... at least somewhat unexpected. She'd hugged him not too long before arriving here, but she'd been thanking him for saving her life and he'd more or less gotten prickly like the gruff hedgehog he tended to become when she did so, even if he'd leaned into it just a little. This hug isn't like that in the least, but given the circumstances...

She squirms just enough so that Garrett won't crack her rib or something silly like that and blinks. "I think have some idea, given how startled I was to have shown up here so suddenly." She's still making the assumption that he got here at the same time as or shortly after her. "What's going on, exactly?"

On anyone else he'd roll his eyes and say it was a waste of time to ask for things like that. What's the point? It's not like one can wear more than one dress or one pair of shoes at a time, anyway. But, with Bethany... Well, she deserves all the things she wants. As fancy as her mind can conjure. If anything, even Carver may ask the wardrobe for things for her. Sure, his sister can spoil herself, but it's his job as her brother to do it for her just because he can.

He sighs softly, knowing by just that tilt of her head that she's wondering if he's being a brat or not. Of course, he'd like to say he's not, but who knows? Some people seem content to stay here. As far as he knows, no one's even actively seeking a way out. Not that he's doing so well on that front, but he hasn't been here long enough to really know where to begin.

Turning slightly, he makes a wide gesture toward the nearest building. "Inside there. They've given rooms for us with—" he blanches, not even wanting to say it aloud, "magic wardrobes. You can ask for anything and it usually gives it. But, you have to be specific. Or..." Carver trails off for a moment, glancing to the side, "instead of a mabari, you might wind up with something that looks more like a child's toy instead of a dog."

That aside, he smiles a bit and shakes his head. "No drake pit that I've seen. Or heard of. No one's mentioned any sort of dragons around, at least." He makes another gesture out from where they stand. "There's gardens over there that you'd probably like." Then a gesture toward the opposite side. "Grounds that Fenris and I've been training on."

Winding down, he gives a lazy sort of shrug. "There's other stuff, but I haven't really seen anything further beyond the gardens yet. There's enough pitfalls inside so far."

Garrett, at least, has the decency to loosen his grip when she squirms. He doesn't let her go entirely but he does stop crushing her. "You really don't," he answers, rather cryptically, before powering forwards, refusing to explain. Pulling back, he looks at Bethany, really looks at her, something strange coming across his expression.

"It's a long story. One I'll be more than happy to tell you, just... Just let me look at you for a moment?"

Once she's standing, Fenris starts walking toward the mansion at a relatively sedate pace. He thinks over what little he's learned and how he'd felt during those first moments here in Wonderland, but his experience doesn't provide much to help her.

"I'm afraid I haven't many answers to those questions," he replies honestly. "Whether there are few who know them or I simply haven't asked the right people, I do not know."

He remembers the letter he couldn't read that everyone had been trying to show him. "The magical devices that allow us to communication come with a letter of instruction. From what I gather, it seems to possess all of the answers that the people here possess."

"I haven't heard many mages say that life was all that easy in the Circles, either," Brennan points out gently, knowing this is a very touchy topic. Not even his time has completely erased that although he's been working on it every way he can think to.

"As I understood it, that was what caused half of the tensions in Kirkwall to begin with."

It started at the golden image of her, and became only clearer during their encounter. A familiarity in her features that he couldn't shake, and now the name. A delayed reaction, for all the use it is denied when the words are only ever Champion or Hawke instead. But Carver mentioned it. The reports mentioned it. Cullen knows it. To make it into a coincidence, even here, seems highly unlikely.

Then it is her. Unknowingly he mimics it, unease forced back down his throat with a swallow. Bethany Hawke, long departed from the Thedas he knows.

"There is... more that you must know, but. This will be difficult."

For her to hear, he means to imply, but Maker's breath, for him no less. He's not had to explain before, and he feels poorly equipped to do so now. Cullen rubs the bridge of his nose, and stifles a quiet groan.

"You called me by name, my name, but the truth is that I've not met you before in my entire life. Nor-- Nor you me, arguably."

Even though the recognition is there, even though he cannot say how closely the man she knows does or does not resemble him. It matters little, this is hardly about him - only the point where he can think to begin his explanation.

Magic wardrobes. She knew her brother's stance on magic, so the sight of him paling like he was didn't exactly draw shock out of her -- but something else in his words catches her interest and she can't help the way that her brows knit together in confusion. There's yet another thing that just doesn't quite make sense as he says it -- how is it that he knows Fenris? But the calculating, logical part of her mind that made her a good teacher tells her that if he's been here for any given amount of time, and Fenris is here too (although how he might be is a mystery, as she'd seen him not an hour ago) that perhaps the two of them had crossed paths. After all, it was easy to see them getting along.

She pushes that worry aside as best she can, not wanting to spoil the moment of happiness that she has with her brother just now. Instead, she raises an eyebrow at him.

"A child's toy instead of a dog? I can only imagine this is a lesson you learned for yourself." Which means that Carver probably has some sort of tiny, adorable animal and he should probably show it to her post-haste, or he's going to drop down the ranks in Bethany's favorite brothers list. She isn't surprised to hear Carver hasn't really ventured out of the place to find out what else there was to see, and she manages a smile.

"Well, once I start to go out looking I'll have to drag you along. Just like old times."

"Have you forgotten the way that I looked, or are you trying to imagine me without a head?" Her tone is lightly teasing, but he should know from the redness in her cheeks that it's something that should ring true with him, that might upset her if it had really happened. "Changed your mind about letting Meredith execute me, perhaps, after you remembered that time I helped Carver put a mouse into your favorite pair of boots?"

She slips her hand into his to squeeze it, because she's still very glad that her brother had more sense than to let that horrible woman kill her. Her head tilts to the side, though, curious about the odd look on his face.

The level of organization and long-lasting captivity that it would take to be able to organize a sort of welcome letter is not something she wants to think too long or hard about, but it is good information to have.

"Then I will have to look at it." Fenris not being able to read isn't something she's fully aware of, not really, and she doesn't want to potentially prod into something painful (she's already done that once, after all). "And ask around, using my Hawke-twins-only charm as an advantage." She's teasing, and hopefully the smirk that crosses her lips conveys that well enough.

"As you haven't mentioned the rampant starvation or plagues yet, I assume this place has somewhere to eat as well?" Hawke priorities, man.

"Perhaps not, but not having to worry about my family being persecuted -- or prosecuted, worse -- for hiding me was too much of a relief." She's glad for the gentle tone, given all the things that have just transpired, and she purses her lips tightly.

"What caused most of the tensions in Kirkwall was the inability to separate those who had fallen prey to blood magic with the rest of us."

Bethany likes to believe that she is not quite as arrogant as Garrett, nor quite so quick to draw conclusions or raise her weapon -- but the idea that someone who she had such clear and lengthy memories of saying that he hasn't even made her acquaintance makes even less sense than showing up in this place without any prior warning.

He had said it would be difficult for her to hear. She crosses her arms over her chest, suddenly more vulnerable than she would like to admit, and steels herself with a slow breath inward. She nods, tight and carefully restrained.

"Whatever it is that you don't remember, or -- as you say, have not experienced," she is deliberate with her words, studying his face for signs that anything she says is getting through to him, "I am certain some part of you must be the same as the man who I knew. Your words when I approached showed reason, just as they did when you went against Meredith's insanity." Even though the smile that crosses her lips is forced, it is genuine. "The essence of a man hardly changes."

She takes in another breath, though, reminding herself now is not the time to dwell on how kindly or not he may have treated her. "But ... do go on."

There's a lot of information to process in those few sentences and for a moment, his heart stops. What happened in Bethany's Thedas that Meredith would want to execute her? He shakes his head, "No, nothing like that." The words catch on the tip of his tongue, because as amazing as this experience is, as unlikely as it is, it isn't the reunion Bethany thinks it is. Yet, he doesn't want to ruin this moment like he ruined his reunion with Carver.

"I'm -- I'm not the Garrett you know, Bethany."

That, at least, makes him snort in good humor. He's seen Carver's charm quite a few times, though it's mellowed with time and become less brash and closer to being actual charm as he's aged. From the stories he's heard of Bethany, Fenris is relatively certain that she's got the lion's share of the genuine article. Certainly Marian never had any to speak of.

"There is food. Ample quantities." And perhaps by the wary tone of his voice, it's clear that he doesn't know what to think of it. "The mansion has kitchens that provide whatever you wish. As far as I know, you may eat whenever you like."

He frowns, eyeing the building as they approach. "It is that way with everything. If we need it, it is provided to us through magic. Or something near enough to magic that I cannot tell the difference."

Okay, the longer that he looks at her the more she starts to internally panic -- which she keeps carefully restrained outwardly, save for the tightening on her hand on his. She half-laughs, nervous.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Unless he was some sort of demon who was for some reason choosing to reveal himself to her, which made about as much sense as a demon having a mabari in the first place. She worries her lip.

Now that she's looking at him too, though -- where is his sword?

"Tell me what that means. Please."

Aha, so he still has at least some of the sense of humor that the Fenris she knew would've responded to. That's good, because re-learning ways to make someone smile was quite time-consuming. Even within her own family of Hawkes, Bethany had been the most sweet and even-tempered of the three children.

Her brows knit together briefly. "All these things provided to us so that it doesn't seem as if we've been kidnapped and taken hostage, I presume." She understands his frown all too well -- being a former slave must've made this more maddening even than coming from the Circle -- and she sympathizes with it.

"Magic on this scale is ... well, it hasn't been heard of in Thedas for years, has it? That's worrisome."

"I am Garrett Hawke, our father was named Malcolm Hawke and you were always afraid of the Qunari back in Lothering, remember? But this place, Wonderland, has powerful magic, more powerful than anything I've ever seen in Thedas. It takes people from their homes, whether they were asleep or fighting a war or traveling through the Deep Roads and brings them here. I don't know why, I don't think anybody does."

He glances down at their hands, smiling lightly. "But when it takes people from Thedas, it's... Hard to explain, so I'll try my best. Not everybody from Thedas -- and there are quite a lot of us here, now -- remembers the same thing. People, places, events?" Garrett glances back up at her face, worry in his eyes. "Are you following me?"

Fenris nods in agreement, biting absently at the inside of his lip. The strength of the magic here is troubling, as is having no clear target to fight. He cannot kill their captors if they never show themselves.

"And it makes us reliant on it. Complacent. Such magic troubles me." Not simply because it's magic, but because if people grow too reliant on it, they might be more easily controlled.

"I am told you are an accomplished mage," he says slowly, glancing over at her in inquiry. "Perhaps you might be able to study it? Find out more about it than someone like I can?"

She was afraid of the Qunari back in Lothering, and the other things that he says -- they make sense, so she nods along with them. The statement about powerful magic is also something that seems intuitively reasonable, given the situation. But then his words start to perplex her, and she knits her brows together.

"So you're telling me ... that people might remember things differently than I do. And that's why you were confused when you saw me, for some reason?" She lets out a soft huff of breath. "I'm following you, but that doesn't mean that I need to like the implications."

There's certainly something to be said about relying so heavily on the magic of this place. For one thing, if they don't truly know how it works -- who's to say how consistent it will be, how reliable? For all she knew, the food they were eating was transformed from some sort of mind-control drug.

She returns the nod with regard to the magic. "I can see why it would. I'm not thrilled with the idea of it, either." Then again, she'd always been more likely than other mages to fear magic in the first place -- from what she'd seen in Kirkwall.

At his inquiry, though, she manages to duck her head slightly. "I don't know about accomplished, past being able to teach the basics," which was certainly not true, but she wasn't given over easily to bragging, "But studying it is something I would like to do, regardless." She pauses, though. "But sometimes it's good to have an outside perspective from someone who doesn't do magic, too. I'm sure you'd still be of help."

"Not only that, but it doesn't take everybody from the same time, either. There's people here from a good ten years in my future, even Isabela is from a few years ahead of me," he shakes his head again, frown intensifying. "But I can fill you in on the little details later, if you want. I'm sure you've got a lot of questions."

The frown melts away, a smile replacing it. "I've been here months now, I was worried I'd never see you again, that's all." He's not going to be the one to tell her, not yet, at least, even if it means lying to her. "But there might be people you don't know who know you here, is what I'm getting at."

Fenris accepts that easily enough. "If something requires killing, I will be glad to lend my assistance."

That's where his skills lay anyway. He doubts that he would be any use in true discussions of magical theory and application. He isn't a mage, there is much about the process he cannot understand, and he still hates it too much to be unbiased.

Upon reaching the door to the mansion, Fenris pulls it open and holds it so that Bethany might pass through. There's nothing harmful in the entry way, he knows.

The essence of a man hardly changes, can be comfort or knife to the heart, depending on what that man thinks his essence might be. For now hearing that he did not stand by Meredith's side in the end will need to be enough. For now knowing that his priority is to brief Bethany will be enough.

"I remember the events," he says, to clarify as much as to protect his sanity from having her think he might be without. "Clear as day, with a- difference."

Small, he almost says, before he sees the cruelty in the word. Before he realises that he has no idea how to inform the living of their death, a death which is no sentence to be carried out, but a fact long and immutably recognised in the past.

"This place, Wonderland- something or somebody in it abducts people, takes them from their world. Not just Thedas, but other places as well, places so foreign they couldn't possibly linger beyond the edges of our maps. And most strangely--"

Inhale.

"Not all people who know Thedas remember it the same. Historic events, points in time, people, it- often doesn't add up." A beat. "I remember Kirkwall, and Meredith's madness. I remember what she--" No. "What we did at the Gallows, just as I remember the city's Champion, I remember Hawke."

Exhale.

"And his brother, Carver."

It does suddenly explain why Garrett looks at least a little less world-weary than when she'd seen him only a short time ago, and a lot less angry than when she'd seen him. She's about to ask about the reason for the frown when he brings up that she must have questions, and she places a hand on her hip.

"Am I really that predictable?" Never mind that anyone in their right minds would have questions about this place. The smile has its intended affect of reassuring her for the moment, and she shakes her head. "People might not know me here. Lovely, I'll have to make incredibly good first impressions all over again, won't I?"

She's been circularly around whether Fenris has any other skills with the elf she's familiar with enough to know that protesting he might have another use isn't going to produce any useful results. "I'm glad to hear you'd be willing to help."

Once the door is pulled open for her, she steps inside cautiously -- her eyes scan the entrance as she walks through it, but she does have enough residual politeness left in her to murmur a quiet, "Thank you," to Fenris.

There were theories enough of the dangers of time magic in the many tomes that laid in the Circle tower, though most were careful to mention the blasphemous idea of multiple states of a world in only a passing and joking manner so as to avoid being burned by Templars before their publication. The longer that Cullen carries on with his explanation, the more it seems to be much more than a joke.

She thinks back to the day that Carver died. A split-second sooner, a split second later -- and it could have been any of them that had died at the hand of that creature, and not her brother. How many nights had she laid awake wondering whether Carver's death could have been prevented by her? The idea that it could have been -- whether it would've been by her hand, or by someone else's -- guts her in a way that's almost visible. She sucks in a sharp breath, thinking, and then says very quietly, "And how did they fare? Were they both well, when last you saw them?"

When she had been a child, and even just before finally being taken to the Circle, she'd wondered if her removal from their family might not be a small blessing. No longer hiding an apostate so much earlier in their lives would've relieved some of the stress from her mother, and from Garrett.

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☼ Arrival; ☼

Re: lbr it's not hard to be

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