The Demon Born - Chapter 2: Marie Amell
The glowing embers made for a strangely beautiful sight in the twilight. Hawke held out her hand, allowing one to land in her open palm, ignoring the way it burned her skin. It was good to feel, even if the sensation wasn’t overly pleasant. It reminded her that she hadn’t lost the ability entirely.
She was sat at the foot of the steep stone steps that would have once led to Kirkwall’s Chantry, now, only a smouldering pile of rubble remained.
She looked up at the destruction briefly, feeling her heart break a little more with the memory of this atrocity thrust upon her again. Despite the keenness of it the sight did little to stir the tumultuous emotions Hawke remembered being nearly overwhelmed by once. Maybe simple repetition was finally rendering the vision mute. She would allow herself to hope so, though somehow, she knew better.
A flutter of cloth and leather signalled the return of a now well-known presence, but Hawke offered no acknowledgement, she didn’t
The Demon Born - Chapter 1: Hindsight
Varric swirled the dregs of his drink, contemplating whether it was worth having another.
“Get you a re-fill?” he was asked amiably.
The question had him lifting his head, managing with some difficulty to shift his gaze above the serving lass’s corseted bosom as she wiped down the counter in front of him. He met her friendly smile with one of his own.
“Ah, Pansy, you read my mind,” he said, proffering her his tankard. Her full-lipped smile broadened, she couldn’t have been much older than eighteen Varric realised.
“It’s ‘Pansy’ now, is it?” she asked sweetly, taking his empty and turning to the huge keg behind her, blonde ringlets bouncing all the way. “So far I’ve been Buttercup, Tulip and Snowdrop. At this rate I’ll be ‘Posey’ by closing.”
Varric laughed. “But a very fetching one none the less.”
“Flatterer,” she chided, handing him his re-fill.
The Demon Born - Prologue
"Look at me you twisted bastard!" cried Hawke, grasping handfuls of Anders's robe and shaking him viciously. He didn't flinch under the assault, his arms dropped uselessly at his sides and shoulders slumped in defeat. "Look at me!"
Slowly his soft brown eyes met hers, their familiar warmth replaced with defiance.
"Did he make you do this?" she asked in a whisper, desperate for another explanation to present itself other than the man before her, her friend, a person she trusted and had thought to love once having committed mass murder.
"You, better than anyone, know that's not the case," he answered, his voice eerily calm.
"Why?" she breathed, barely able to control the tears of anger and remorse welling in her eyes.
Anders sighed, letting his head tip forward.
Feeling no pity for his obvious exhaustion, Hawke yanked him toward her, forcing him to look at her again. "Tell me," she demanded.
"Fear," he responded simply. "An overused excuse to bludgeon us into submission every day
Shakarian Compendium - Chapter 12
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The Communications Room was full with the team Shepard had gathered from across the galaxy waiting in anticipation for her orders. When the inevitable ructions began over who would lead the second of three strike teams into the Collector Base, Garrus found it all too easy to blot out the noise, choosing to focus his attentions on Shepard instead.
She still hadn’t said anything leaving Lawson to explain the gist of the plan. In fact she wasn’t even facing the conference table, but remained staring out at the constant night and the ominous form of the Omega 4 relay glowing red in the distance.
“No, Miranda. I need you with me,” she announced suddenly. The room fell silent.
“Shepard, I…” Lawson began to protest.
“Your biotic abilities are far superior to mine. I need you with me.”
“And the other strike team?”
Shepard looked up at him then, not a shred of doubt in her expression. “Garrus will le
A Darker TimeWhy is it that I should feel trapped here alone?
So distant from everyone,
Stretched so thin I’m tearing at the edges,
Bearing a glimmer of my soul to this blank sheet of paper.
I love a man who does not know me.
He knows my name, my routine; my mind maybe.
But he does not know me.
My soul is hidden as if by a mountain that I will not let him climb.
I hate being stuck at the root of my emotions.
Clinging to the hope that someday things will change,
Life will be simpler, love easier and better defined.
Is it just a dream to think this possible?
I need to break away like a wave,
Pulling back to my centre, to find what’s left of the heart.
I need to stay and protect all that I cherish here.
I want to be alone.
I want to be loved.
I want to feel safe.
I want my doubts crushed and this mountain to fall.
I want to speak to you,
I want to let you in, but right now you are not you.
You are someone I don’t know, don’t like, could never love, though you share the body and