( video )

[shitloaf]

[ The feed eventually shutters to life and it's pointing at the ceiling. It's a mostly nondescript ceiling, please enjoy it for being pleasantly neutral. Because it's going to be ruined in less than ten seconds.

Carver's face pops into the view and he stares at the device like it's some unholy abomination that just tinkled on his favorite shirt. It's clear he's in a terrible sort of mood—but when is he not?—by the harsh line of his brows and the curl of his mouth. While he doesn't have his full plate armor on, he still wears the blue and silver of the Grey Wardens. ]

So, apparently this sodding thing is supposed to let me talk to other people. [ Here he is. Doing just that. ] I'm—

[ He stops, sighs through his nose then rubs the side of his head. Does he introduce himself? Maybe. Ugh. ]

My name is Carver Hawke and I have a request and don't really know where to start. I'm looking for books. [ The harsh lines of his expression soften to the slightest degree for a brief moment. ] Easy ones. Ones that kids can read. Don't know what is considered that here, so.

[ He lifts a shoulder in a shrug as if that will explain the rest of the request so he doesn't need to. Basically, he needs pointing in the right direction with titles and maybe even large print.

Off-screen there is a small scuffling noise and it's followed soon by a little yappy sort of bark. There's a fun, bright usage of several even more fun curses before Carver disappears for a second. The video shakes as he picks up the device to hold at arms length. In his other hand is this abomination of a dog. It wriggles in his hand and that only seems to irritate him further. ]

And what in the Maker's name is this bloody thing? It's like some horrible Orlesian dog some sod would wear on their hat. What good are these wardrobes if this is what I get instead of a mabari?

[ The puppy happily licks Carver's nose and he grunts in disgust before putting it down and returning to the device. It seems he wants to say something more, but he isn't sure how. Clearly annoyed—and mostly with himself—he frowns all over again then just shuts the feed off. ]

Comments

[scowls]

[ The only reason he's bothering to fight with this magical contraption—his second now that he's destroyed the first—is because Carver's on it and evidently inviting demons into his room. Sure, he says that he asked for a mabari from the wardrobe, but it's a magic wardrobe. It's possible that little puff of fur is possessed.

After all, if books can be possessed by demons (and a certain golden ram in the northern reaches of the Hinterlands) why not dogs?

Fenris' expression is guarded and critical as he eyes the tiny dog. Then he looks to Carver. That he's holding a half-empty bottle of wine and there a number of empty ones on the table is certainly not anything he's ashamed about. ]

Are you certain it is not possessed?

video;

[bloodmagics]

... Carver?

[Garrett doesn't even realise his hands have automatically moved to the device, catching his surprised murmur as he watches the broadcast. He knows his brother's face, every line, every spot, every expression and immediately he can see that the other Hawke is older than he remembers.

It would be disorienting if he wasn't so relieved.

He fumbles with the device, bringing his face into view after it had been displaying his mabari for several moments.]

Carver. Where are you?

[Nothing else is important right now, not even the failed attempt to get a mabari from the closet. The thought that his age might not be the only surprise doesn't even cross his mind, despite all his experience with the anomalies of Thedas this place causes.]

video;

[heroica]

[ There's a lot to comment on, from his name to the dog, but she'll get to all that. First and foremost is duty, the masonry of their order, and she smiles politely, acknowledging the man with a bow of her head. ]

If many others arrive, I'll begin to worry we may face another Blight. [ Ahem. Best not to tempt fate. ] You're among your brothers-in-arms, Carver. There are three Grey Wardens already here, myself included.

[ For all the good it's done them, or anyone else. C'est la vie. No one cares an inch about them unless there are darkspawn to fight. ]

I can explain in person, if you don't mind. If it's an extra incentive, I have a mabari with me who would be happy to get the attention.

[Video]

[magisterium]

[Oh, he recognizes the name, and the sour face is everything he expected from the stories Hawke has told him, but first, first, there is something else that needs to be addressed.]

I'm not even certain that can be called a dog.

[Not that he's a fan of the larger breeds by any stretch of the imagination, but at least they're honest about what they are.]

I swear, it's the first thing every Ferelden attempts when they arrive here. Mabari.

video;

[fatherlesskind]

[Oh he knows that uniform! And has heard the name Hawke before. With a different name attached but it's a start. And more importantly, there's another Warden here! Another Ferelden Warden - presumably recruited by the new Warden-Commander in the aftermath of the Blight, like Anders.

Alistair smirks as he appears on the screen of the device, barely holding back laughter at Carver's disgust. He should welcome the new Warden, but first there's something very important he needs to say.]

Who in their right mind would wear a dog on their hat? Even Orlesians couldn't be that dumb. [What would they do if it needed to relieve itself?

Oh, right. He should probably talk about serious matters or what Carver was actually asking about.]

The closets are useless. I keep trying to get a griffon from mine and it gives me everything but.

[That's important to know, right? He is a Warden, he should care about that.]

[shitloaf]

[ If this thing masquerading as a dog is possessed, at least it would be interesting. The worst thing it's done so far is piddle on the floor. As much as he doesn't like it, he feels guilty just leaving it to fend for itself. So, for now he's keeping it.

Seeing the wine doesn't even phase Carver, it's Fenris' natural habitat. And after the mess from the other night... Well, it's just not surprising, that's all.

Carver's attention turns away from the picture of Fenris to look at the thing bounding around his feet. Another frown pulls down his lips. ]

No. It'd be more interesting if it was.

[shitloaf]

[ A voice he doesn't recognize saying his name has Carver warily looking at the little picture box again. The same frown that seems permanently etched into his skin is present as he searches to find something familiar about this new person. Nothing looks familiar, voice certainly doesn't sound it, so he's not too keen on giving out any further information. ]

Why? Who wants to know?

[shitloaf]

[ He's a little less irritated with this moving picture, if only because she claims to be a Warden, too. Three others, she says. That arse Anders must be one of the three; Carver wonders who the third is. Though it's selfish, he hopes beyond everything it's someone he knows and likes. ]

Now you've jinxed it. The only thing this place needs is darkspawn to make it feel more like home.

[ It's not so much a joke but dry sarcasm because... well, inviting a Blight is asking for something even more terrible than this fake dog.

He sighs—he feels like he's been doing that a lot lately—then lifts his shoulder in a slight shrug. If this is some sort of trap, it's not like he can't defend himself. And meeting her somewhere isn't giving away his own location. So, that's a plus. ]

I guess I don't mind. Where?

[bloodmagics]

Your brother.

[He hides the pain behind a dry tone, exasperation instead of sadness. It's funny how quickly something can destroy you, even just a few simple words. He drags a hand down his face, making a frustrated noise.]

This is going to be a conversation I'd rather have in person, but I doubt you believe me.

[shitloaf]

[ Yet another reason to keep the dour look on his face. This also isn't someone he recognizes by sight or sound, except sound this time lends to an accent he does recognize. Tevinter. There's a terrible pinch to the corners of his mouth, even as he attempts to internally remind himself that probably everyone from Tevinter isn't a raging lunatic. Fenris isn't; but that doesn't erase Danarius or Corypheus or the Venatori.

He glares at the picture with his arms folded tightly across his chest. ]

And? You say that like it's a bad thing.

[shitloaf]

[ Now this is more what he was hoping for. The voice rings true and for the first time today a small smile begins to work its way onto Carver's mouth. Thank the Maker for small mercies.

So, of course, when he actually looks, he can already see something seems amiss. But, he's going to pretend it's not and that it's all fine. After all, it's not like he's acting as if he doesn't know Carver... That's got to be something. Doesn't it? ]

They're Orlesians. Of course they can be that dumb.

[ Come on. ]

I hadn't even thought of that... [ He glances over his shoulder toward the wardrobe and frowns at it. ] Though if this is what I get for a dog, I don't think I'd attempt.

[ There's a brief pause while he argues within himself if he should say anything or not, then just blurts it out in true Carver fashion. ]

I'm glad to see you here. I didn't think I'd recognize anyone else.

[shitloaf]

Brother!?

[ He looks at the picture, squinting and drawing himself closer to it as if that will explain anything. It doesn't and he's entirely too skeptical. Next, of course, he's wondering what sort of magic this place has to try and trick him into believing he has family. He doesn't. Not anymore. Carver is the last one left. ]

I don't have a brother. So, you're right about that. I don't believe you.

[bloodmagics]

Let me guess, you have two sisters?

[He tries his hardest not to sound bitter about that. He's also very careful to avoid poking at the festering wound that is Bethany, because this situation is already awful.]

I can prove it if you'll let me. [A pause, then, as he realises how much a potential gap there might be if Carver remembers more than he does.] As long as you don't ask about anything that happened after the expedition into the Deep Roads.

[shitloaf]

[ He doesn't like this.

Not even a little bit. He doesn't like that this man seems to know about him. His sisters, the Deep Roads. If at all possible, Carver scowls even more with this new information. Though he's never been one for keeping secrets, the Wardens have taught him a little better about discretion. A little. ]

What? The Deep Roads happened ten years ago!

[ Okay, not so much, but. An attempt was made. Carver makes a noise, half-impatience, half-annoyance. This isn't how he imagined his life turning out. He's wishing even more he was in Weisshaupt. ]

Fine. I'll meet you somewhere.

[bloodmagics]

[Well.

That answers that.]

Maybe for you. I'll... I'll explain in person. There's a tavern on the fifth floor, it's even cleaner than The Hanged Man.

[His tone switches, then, to something a little more subdued, placating. His expression remains expressly neutral, however, not wanting to give away the depths of what he's feeling right now.]

I'll answer whatever questions you have there.

[scowls]

[ At that, Fenris laughs. It's a little sharp, but his sense of humor is slicked by wine enough to let him appreciate the jest. ]

Perhaps you ought to ask for one and see what happens.

[ He doesn't trust the magic closets. Looking down at the bottle, Fenris frowns. ]

The wine is barely adequate. I asked for something stronger.

[shitloaf]

All right. Fine.

[ Not that he has many questions beyond 'who' and 'what.' But, it may help in filling in some blanks, though he's not entirely hopeful.

He tosses the picture box aside without bothering to turn it off and a moment later the door closes. Since he's on the fourth floor, it doesn't take him long to go up a flight and find the tavern.

And there he finds a place to sit with his back to the wall and looking out at everything because he's certainly not going to trust anything here. ]

[Video]

[outofthebreach]

Carver Hawke?

[ It's impossible to miss that name and Brennan's intrigued face pops into the video screen a moment later. ]

My, my. At this rate, Thedas will be overrunning Wonderland in no time.

I'd say welcome, but that's a dubious greeting in this situation at the best of times. Did Fenris drag you along with him? [ He may have spoken to the elf a little earlier. ]

I'm Brennan Trevelyan. The not-Qunari Inquisitor. A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.

[shitloaf]

I'd rather not.

[ He doesn't want to test the constraints of what this place does so blatantly. Not before he knows more about it. And considering he got this instead of what he wanted, he's not looking to test anything. ]

Must be all right, [ he tips his head, indicating with his chin, ] if you're drinking it.

[bloodmagics]

[It takes Garrett a little longer, his room being on the second floor and the fact he needs to take a moment to gather his thoughts. Proving who he is to someone like Dorian, or even Isabela would be rather easy but this is Carver, one of the only people who knows all his older sibling's secrets.

As he climbs the flights of stairs to the bar, he tries to remember stories, little things that happened years ago that only they'd know. Does it matter? Will the stories stay the same despite Marian existing instead of Garrett?

When he finds Carver's table, he doesn't sit down, a hand curling over the back of the chair. He opens his mouth to say something, but all he can do is stare at his brother for a moment.]

... You survived whatever it was Stroud put you through, then. [His face twists because obviously.]

[shitloaf]

[ It's strange to see him in person. Carver doesn't really know what to make of him, and that shows in the expression on his face that can't settle anywhere. What is he supposed to do right now?

He schools himself into something bored and deadpanned, waving a hand at the chair. ]

Obviously. It's great fun, the Blight.

[ Not. ]

So. Who are you, then? Really.

[bloodmagics]

[He can't help the flinch that happens when Carver mentions the Blight. Hawke takes the seat, watching Carver curiously, studying his face. He's so much older, Garrett would be laughing right now if the situation wasn't what it is.]

Garrett Hawke.

[His fingers drum against the tabletop.]

I've spent the last few months wondering if you were dead because of me. If I'd fucked up by taking you into the Deep Roads with us instead of listening to mother and making you stay behind. I don't care if you don't believe me, Carver, I'm just... I'm just happy to know you're okay.

[shitloaf]

No, I doubt it. He doesn't even want to be here. Not that I blame him, I don't want to be here either.

[ Still, his eyes narrow slightly, that scowl still in place. ]

What do you mean not Qunari Inquisitor?

[outofthebreach]

[ Brennan makes a face. ]

Ah. Well, that's where this place is confusing. You'll meet several people from Thedas here, but our memories of our homes won't always match up. Sometimes people are subtly - or not-so-subtly - different depending on where and when the person came from. Several people remember a number of different Wardens, the Hero of Ferelden? Hawke always seems to be Hawke, but occasionally it's a man and sometimes it's a woman. And apparently several different people were named the Herald of Andraste and made into Inquisitor to fight Corypheus.

In my world, that was my task. I left it just after Corypheus' downfall. In Cullen's world, his Inquisitor was a dwarven woman. And Fenris informed me that his was a Qunari. All of which I am not. Other than that, I'm not sure what events might have played out differently as of yet.

[shitloaf]

[ His lips thin as he watches, a hardness settling in his eyes that had never been there before. It seems unreal. How could this man be his brother? He had such a tyrant of a sister, this doesn't seem factual. Idly, he entertains the thought if only he'd had an older brother that maybe they could've gotten along better. Maybe he wouldn't have been as bad as Marian. Maybe...

Well, maybes don't matter now.

His stomach twists uncomfortably as he mentions his mother. Their mother? ]

Just fine. [ He's not fine. He's never been fine. He's certainly not fine now. ] You've missed a lot if you're ten years behind.