Anders places the bag on the table and the blanket on the bed and pauses. "Ser Drools? Is that something's name?" He plucked Pounce off his shoulder and placed him on the blanket as Anders turned back to Hawke with one brow raised. "This Ser drools wouldn't happen to be another Mabari, would he?"
Of course he was. Hawke had expressed his love for dogs and, as was Anders' point, what drooled more than a dog? Maker, he was going to help this ridiculous man add to their ridiculously dog-infested fleet, wasn't he? Of course he was.
"Alright, Hawke. It's roughly half an hour's walk, so we might as well get going." Before he thinks to change his mind.
"Yes, he's my dog," he replies, almost in a whine. He can tell Anders is judging him. "It's not any different than naming your cat Ser Pounce, is it? And besides, Drools likes you."
As much as Anders admonished the dog that he should behave 'like a real pet' or rather, like a cat. Hawke's fairly certain that he has a secret soft spot for most animals, not just cats, but he's not going to needle at it lest Anders feels the need to bury it further for inexplicable reasons.
Though if Hawke had his own tail, he'd be wagging it at Anders saying they should get going. "Really? Excellent! I'll have Ser Drools by dinner!"
Anders scoffed, thoroughly disbelieving he could have any sort of good relationship with a dog. But the way Hawke reacted made it worth it all the same. How hopeless this man was. Hopeless and endearing.
Hawke's out the door first and Anders is close behind, a good bye offered to Pounce as he closes the door. He leads them down to solid ground again and off in the direction of the tree. He's amicably quiet until they're past the treeline and heading deeper into the forest.
"I feel I should warn you on what to expect. When you wish for your gift, it draws up memories and that memory is shared through touch. You...do know we have to hold hands, right?" How awkward if Hawke had missed that little fact...but more awkward later if Anders had simply reached for his hand expecting his companion to understand.
"I know, that's why I came to ask you." He follows along after Anders, a little sobered by the turn of the conversation. Though Anders does know this already and he said yes anyway, so that's encouraging. "I trust you."
Such a simple thing to say but it means the world. The parts left unsaid express more than a general trust. This isn't a trust that Anders will keep a secret or not take the last cookie. This is Adalwolfe trusting Anders with anything he's shown, trusting the man not to run off scared if it happens to be about him or get angry. Despite the overexcited vigor with which Adalwolfe had come to Anders with this little plan, he has in fact thought it through. Anders is the only person he can ask, the only person here he trusts with himself. Not even Marian, who ostensibly is him, can he say that about.
"Besides, if I can choose, the memory will be about Ser Drools anyway." A scoff, a cover up for the brief window of emotional vulnerability that he fears if he didn't close Anders would turn heel just as one or the other of them have done when any of their conversations got too deep in the last month. Flirting is all well and good - or well and bad for different reasons - but with them it seems to always lead to some kind of earnest feeling that they both know they shouldn't have in the state they're in. Not like this.
As easy as all that? He feels like he shouldn't trust that sentiment himself, like it was all too simple and Adalwolfe was opening himself up to pain even if Anders had no intention of trying to hurt him. But he did trust it, as silly as that was.
And as Hawke trusted him to share some part of himself, he supposed...he trusted Hawke as well. What could his memories offer that Hawke wouldn't already know? And if he got to see that handsome smile because this foolish man got his dumb mabari back, then Anders wasn't going to turn them around for unsound logic and unreasonable emotions.
"All right, then." He offered a charming smile and winked. "I'm always happy to take a walk with a handsome mage." And before they could get too far into that flirting hole they kept tripping in, "I suspect your beast will be a smaller version of himself, if any of the other dogs in this fleet are any measure."
Anders' flirtation only gets an appreciative eyebrow waggle in response, as reticent as Adalwolfe is to fall into the aforementioned hole himself. He needed to focus on Drools, otherwise he might end up sharing some other memory and Maker knows Anders doesn't need to see that sort of thing when they're awkwardly not certain where they stand with each other.
"I'm betting on it, actually. I don't think keeping a full grown mabari on a space ship would be the best idea, at least until I know I can feed him. Do you know how much mabari eat? It's comical."
"Nope! No idea, the last mabari I knew was from my old home when I was much younger. Someone in the town owned her, but she kind've went wherever she wanted, but I never saw her eat. I'm sure it's all sorts of mess."
He looked away from Hawke to find the tree in the distance and make sure they were heading in the right direction. "How much does a puppy eat? A small deer compared to the full grown one's drufflo?"
"As if cats don't make a mess. Old Tom would bring in half dead birds and entirely dead rodents from all over the place." 'Presents' as Anders would call them. He'd accept each one and coo all over the cat, then heal it where the satisfied feline couldn't see, or otherwise bury it. "Drools, at least, would bring home things big enough and good for people to eat. And not the neighbors livestock either. He's a good dog."
Adalwolfe pauses when Anders does, just for a moment, letting him get his baring before they go crashing through the underbrush together. "He ate about as much as my brother growing up. I mean, the same amount my brother ate, not an amount as big as my brother. Though... really, the two amounts are sort of comparable."
Anders laughed at the mental image. "That is impressive."
He wanted to ask who 'Old Tom' was, but he figured some random cat since it didn't seem like Hawke would own a cat if he could help it. Another reason he simply shouldn't flirt with the man, they clearly weren't compatible.
The tree loomed up closer and closer as they walked and when they finally pushed through the brush seperating them from the clearing, it towered over them and every other tree in the forest. Anders gave a whistle.
"This thing is still impressive. It's bigger than anything I've ever seen." He walked up so they were under it and near some of it's expansive and thick roots. "I think here should be fine."
"It's enormous!" He tries not to mentally add 'that's what she said' and fails. Honestly he's not sure where in the Fleet he picked that up, but it's entirely too funny to him right now.
After a quick moment to recompose himself mentally, Adalwolfe clears his throat and looks away from the tree and back to Anders, uncertain what to do next. "So, um. How does it work?"
Anders shrugged and held out his hand. "We hold hands and, I don't know if it's necessary, but thinking about the thing you want seemed to work last time, so try that."
He'd thought about Mr. Wiggums and then Pounce and Kirk had thought about that time almost sending himself off a cliff with that music blaring and they'd both ended up with the memory back in their hands. He'd heard it didn't work twice, so it probably wouldn't matter what he thought except the part where it would end up in Hawke's head too.
Maybe he should try to think of something happy, then and not that time in Solitary or any of the beatings or...basically anything unpleasant he didn't want Hawke to know first hand.
"Alright," Hawke says, a little more subdued than before. His enthusiasm at the prospect not diminished but it is dawning on him that he perhaps hadn't quite been as ready to share his innermost emotions with Anders as he had been. He'll just have to think very hard about Ser Drools, he decides. Very very hard, and not at all about Anders.
Not at all about how Anders holds his hands out to take his, and not about how he quite likes that earring, and certainly not about their near decade history. It's just like control exercises his father did with him as a boy. Breathe in, breathe out. Focus on what you want to happen. Draw on yourself, visualize the end result...
Adalwolfe takes Anders' hands and closes his eyes, letting out a slow breath.
Think about Drools...well, he couldn't do that, but maybe thinking about dogs would help. He really only had those memories from before about the old drufflo herder, but that would have to do. The memory seemed a little fuzzy at first, but it cleared as he concentrated...
The sun beat down, warm on his wispy pale blond hair. He laughed, the sound of a child's glee. A look over his shoulder and the clearly aging mabari woofs happily from behind him.
He stumbles and falls into the grass, he whole blue Ferelden sky overhead. The Frostback Mountains loom in the distance and then everything is slobbery dog kisses raking up half his face. The old mabari from before stands over him, raining affection upon her caught prey.
"Eeeewww! Sadie, get off! You're messing up my hair!"
Despite his protests, he's laughing and finally manages to push the dog off enough to sit up. He rubs his sleeve over his face and only manages to get dirt on his face. Oh well.
Something's shouted, the memory too old to be clear, but it draws his attention up to a young woman with long blonde hair waving to him. He waves back, but his attention is drawn away by the arrival of a group of children, some older, some younger, rushing down the hill to join him. Laughter, sunlight, friends, simplicity.
The strongest memory of that damn dog he had. He felt his stomach twist in that mixture of anger, grief and yet happiness that always came with the memories from that time, but he pushed it all down. He didn't want Hawke to feel it. Only good things. He hoped it helped.
It's a cute memory, a happy one from Anders'. Or mostly happy. There are other things tangled in there, regret and longing, burning anger that seems so familiar. It washes over him for a moment and then it's gone, leaving Hawke a bit bewildered and trying to focus on his memories of Ser Drools. Lazy days in the fields of whatever rural Ferelden town they'd been in, or the day he'd been given him, or any number of memories he had to choose from.
But Anders is right there, holding his hands, sharing his space, and there's one memory that bleeds in above the others. It was only a few days after the happiest of his life. Anders had agreed to live with him! But there was only one problem...
"Now that I'm living here, there isn't room for you in the bed. Do you understand?"
Drools lifts his head quizzically and whines curiously, wagging his tail as if he doesn't understand, but Hawke knows he does. Drools is just playing dumb in the hopes that Anders will change his mind.
After a brief staredown, Drools comes to the conclusion it won't work and gives a howl and a doggy version of a pout.
"That won't work on me. I'm a cat person." Anders speaks to Drools patiently, like a child throwing a tantrum, and Hawke tries very hard not to laugh because he does the exact same thing when Drools is being petulant.
Ser Drools, for his part, looks to Hawke briefly for help, and not finding it, droops down as if the entire world is ending. Anders, kind to a fault even if he is a cat person, sighs softly.
"Cheer up, old boy. Maybe you can bunk with Sandal!"
From down the hall, the young Dwarf looks absolutely ecstatic, clapping his hands eagerly. "Enchantment!!"
Apparently this is an acceptable arrangement as Drools starts bouncing around happily at the prospect and eventually chasing Sandal down the hall to the young man's happy shrieks and clomping feet.
There's pride there, pride that Anders took the time to talk to Drools and not just kick him out. Pride and love and gratitude and so much good humor.
The memory is soft, loving. He can feel the pride and gratitude and amusement and it tamps down on the sharp lance through his heart of seeing the memory for himself. He feels Hawke's love for this Anders and it's so strong, it momentarily overwhelms how Anders himself feels.
In Hawke's light, the gauntness seems not so bad, the dark circles not as deep, the dimmed personality as something to cherish and Anders very nearly tears his hand away.
But he doesn't. He doesn't twitch more than a brief thing across his face and then he lets it go. He can't think about it, he won't let himself. The only thing he lets himself feel is that affection.
"Mm, I'm not sure. Was that--" He's about to ask if his memory made Anders uncomfortable, suddenly nervous that he's entirely overstepped the line he'd set for himself when he'd found out that Anders was from before Kirkwall, but a sudden whine at his feet as his eyebrows shooting up. He bends at the waist, looking down with his entire body instead of just looking like a normal person.
"Drools!" He'd know that puppy anywhere, little rolls of fat bunching up around the dog's rear as he stares up at Adalwolfe with a happy panting smile. A moment later the pup is on his feet and Wolfe is on the receiving end of the most slobbery doggie kisses known to man, elf, dwarf, or even qunari-kind. "Drools, it worked!"
He lets go of Anders' hands then, practically bowled over into the dirt and leaves by the force of the puppy's kisses. Ser Drools wastes no time in taking advantage of the situation, climbing up on Hawke's belly and chest and continuing to coat his face and beard in slobber.
He lets go of Hawke readily and grins as he watches man and beast reunite. It was sweet, no matter what he thought of dogs.
His arms crossed and he just watched in peaceful silence. The puppy licking Hawke's face made the sound of his own young voice ring through his mind again, a protest against the slobbery kisses. This display of affection was equally gross, but it wasn't like it was his face affected, so he simply winced in sympathetic disgust.
"Well, there's your mangy pup right now. A lot more wrinkly than in that memory."
"Well he's a lot-- younger! Drools stop, stop, that's enough!" Adalwolfe laughs, trying to stem the tide of kisses. He manages, but only barely, holding the wiggling puppy at bay. "He was nearly eighteen in that memory, quite an old dog. He doesn't look more than a few months now."
Which is delightful, and Hawke sits up only to crouch by Drools and offer a stick to chew on. "Much easier to feed this way, if anything." And to snuggle and curl up in bed with.
"Oh, maybe something with spikes on it. Would you like that boy? Huh?" He wriggles Ser Drools' fat rolls on his face, much to the puppy's delight, although he doesn't drop the stick.
"Thank you," he looks up at Anders almost as happy as his dog. "I know you didn't have to do this. I really appreciate it."
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apurrstate) wrote2016-05-03 09:35 pm
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Of course he was. Hawke had expressed his love for dogs and, as was Anders' point, what drooled more than a dog? Maker, he was going to help this ridiculous man add to their ridiculously dog-infested fleet, wasn't he? Of course he was.
"Alright, Hawke. It's roughly half an hour's walk, so we might as well get going." Before he thinks to change his mind.
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As much as Anders admonished the dog that he should behave 'like a real pet' or rather, like a cat. Hawke's fairly certain that he has a secret soft spot for most animals, not just cats, but he's not going to needle at it lest Anders feels the need to bury it further for inexplicable reasons.
Though if Hawke had his own tail, he'd be wagging it at Anders saying they should get going. "Really? Excellent! I'll have Ser Drools by dinner!"
He all but clamors back for the door.
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Hawke's out the door first and Anders is close behind, a good bye offered to Pounce as he closes the door. He leads them down to solid ground again and off in the direction of the tree. He's amicably quiet until they're past the treeline and heading deeper into the forest.
"I feel I should warn you on what to expect. When you wish for your gift, it draws up memories and that memory is shared through touch. You...do know we have to hold hands, right?" How awkward if Hawke had missed that little fact...but more awkward later if Anders had simply reached for his hand expecting his companion to understand.
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Such a simple thing to say but it means the world. The parts left unsaid express more than a general trust. This isn't a trust that Anders will keep a secret or not take the last cookie. This is Adalwolfe trusting Anders with anything he's shown, trusting the man not to run off scared if it happens to be about him or get angry. Despite the overexcited vigor with which Adalwolfe had come to Anders with this little plan, he has in fact thought it through. Anders is the only person he can ask, the only person here he trusts with himself. Not even Marian, who ostensibly is him, can he say that about.
"Besides, if I can choose, the memory will be about Ser Drools anyway." A scoff, a cover up for the brief window of emotional vulnerability that he fears if he didn't close Anders would turn heel just as one or the other of them have done when any of their conversations got too deep in the last month. Flirting is all well and good - or well and bad for different reasons - but with them it seems to always lead to some kind of earnest feeling that they both know they shouldn't have in the state they're in. Not like this.
Maker, what is he doing...
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And as Hawke trusted him to share some part of himself, he supposed...he trusted Hawke as well. What could his memories offer that Hawke wouldn't already know? And if he got to see that handsome smile because this foolish man got his dumb mabari back, then Anders wasn't going to turn them around for unsound logic and unreasonable emotions.
"All right, then." He offered a charming smile and winked. "I'm always happy to take a walk with a handsome mage." And before they could get too far into that flirting hole they kept tripping in, "I suspect your beast will be a smaller version of himself, if any of the other dogs in this fleet are any measure."
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"I'm betting on it, actually. I don't think keeping a full grown mabari on a space ship would be the best idea, at least until I know I can feed him. Do you know how much mabari eat? It's comical."
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He looked away from Hawke to find the tree in the distance and make sure they were heading in the right direction. "How much does a puppy eat? A small deer compared to the full grown one's drufflo?"
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Adalwolfe pauses when Anders does, just for a moment, letting him get his baring before they go crashing through the underbrush together. "He ate about as much as my brother growing up. I mean, the same amount my brother ate, not an amount as big as my brother. Though... really, the two amounts are sort of comparable."
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He wanted to ask who 'Old Tom' was, but he figured some random cat since it didn't seem like Hawke would own a cat if he could help it. Another reason he simply shouldn't flirt with the man, they clearly weren't compatible.
The tree loomed up closer and closer as they walked and when they finally pushed through the brush seperating them from the clearing, it towered over them and every other tree in the forest. Anders gave a whistle.
"This thing is still impressive. It's bigger than anything I've ever seen." He walked up so they were under it and near some of it's expansive and thick roots. "I think here should be fine."
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After a quick moment to recompose himself mentally, Adalwolfe clears his throat and looks away from the tree and back to Anders, uncertain what to do next. "So, um. How does it work?"
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He'd thought about Mr. Wiggums and then Pounce and Kirk had thought about that time almost sending himself off a cliff with that music blaring and they'd both ended up with the memory back in their hands. He'd heard it didn't work twice, so it probably wouldn't matter what he thought except the part where it would end up in Hawke's head too.
Maybe he should try to think of something happy, then and not that time in Solitary or any of the beatings or...basically anything unpleasant he didn't want Hawke to know first hand.
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Not at all about how Anders holds his hands out to take his, and not about how he quite likes that earring, and certainly not about their near decade history. It's just like control exercises his father did with him as a boy. Breathe in, breathe out. Focus on what you want to happen. Draw on yourself, visualize the end result...
Adalwolfe takes Anders' hands and closes his eyes, letting out a slow breath.
"Think about Drools."
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The sun beat down, warm on his wispy pale blond hair. He laughed, the sound of a child's glee. A look over his shoulder and the clearly aging mabari woofs happily from behind him.
He stumbles and falls into the grass, he whole blue Ferelden sky overhead. The Frostback Mountains loom in the distance and then everything is slobbery dog kisses raking up half his face. The old mabari from before stands over him, raining affection upon her caught prey.
"Eeeewww! Sadie, get off! You're messing up my hair!"
Despite his protests, he's laughing and finally manages to push the dog off enough to sit up. He rubs his sleeve over his face and only manages to get dirt on his face. Oh well.
Something's shouted, the memory too old to be clear, but it draws his attention up to a young woman with long blonde hair waving to him. He waves back, but his attention is drawn away by the arrival of a group of children, some older, some younger, rushing down the hill to join him. Laughter, sunlight, friends, simplicity.
The strongest memory of that damn dog he had. He felt his stomach twist in that mixture of anger, grief and yet happiness that always came with the memories from that time, but he pushed it all down. He didn't want Hawke to feel it. Only good things. He hoped it helped.
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But Anders is right there, holding his hands, sharing his space, and there's one memory that bleeds in above the others. It was only a few days after the happiest of his life. Anders had agreed to live with him! But there was only one problem...
"Now that I'm living here, there isn't room for you in the bed. Do you understand?"
Drools lifts his head quizzically and whines curiously, wagging his tail as if he doesn't understand, but Hawke knows he does. Drools is just playing dumb in the hopes that Anders will change his mind.
After a brief staredown, Drools comes to the conclusion it won't work and gives a howl and a doggy version of a pout.
"That won't work on me. I'm a cat person." Anders speaks to Drools patiently, like a child throwing a tantrum, and Hawke tries very hard not to laugh because he does the exact same thing when Drools is being petulant.
Ser Drools, for his part, looks to Hawke briefly for help, and not finding it, droops down as if the entire world is ending. Anders, kind to a fault even if he is a cat person, sighs softly.
"Cheer up, old boy. Maybe you can bunk with Sandal!"
From down the hall, the young Dwarf looks absolutely ecstatic, clapping his hands eagerly. "Enchantment!!"
Apparently this is an acceptable arrangement as Drools starts bouncing around happily at the prospect and eventually chasing Sandal down the hall to the young man's happy shrieks and clomping feet.
There's pride there, pride that Anders took the time to talk to Drools and not just kick him out. Pride and love and gratitude and so much good humor.
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In Hawke's light, the gauntness seems not so bad, the dark circles not as deep, the dimmed personality as something to cherish and Anders very nearly tears his hand away.
But he doesn't. He doesn't twitch more than a brief thing across his face and then he lets it go. He can't think about it, he won't let himself. The only thing he lets himself feel is that affection.
"Anything new?"
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"Drools!" He'd know that puppy anywhere, little rolls of fat bunching up around the dog's rear as he stares up at Adalwolfe with a happy panting smile. A moment later the pup is on his feet and Wolfe is on the receiving end of the most slobbery doggie kisses known to man, elf, dwarf, or even qunari-kind. "Drools, it worked!"
He lets go of Anders' hands then, practically bowled over into the dirt and leaves by the force of the puppy's kisses. Ser Drools wastes no time in taking advantage of the situation, climbing up on Hawke's belly and chest and continuing to coat his face and beard in slobber.
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His arms crossed and he just watched in peaceful silence. The puppy licking Hawke's face made the sound of his own young voice ring through his mind again, a protest against the slobbery kisses. This display of affection was equally gross, but it wasn't like it was his face affected, so he simply winced in sympathetic disgust.
"Well, there's your mangy pup right now. A lot more wrinkly than in that memory."
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Which is delightful, and Hawke sits up only to crouch by Drools and offer a stick to chew on. "Much easier to feed this way, if anything." And to snuggle and curl up in bed with.
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"Well, I'm just glad it worked out. A fully grown mabari would be harder to handle.
Anyway, want to head back? I'm sure you could find him a handsome collar like Pounce.
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"Thank you," he looks up at Anders almost as happy as his dog. "I know you didn't have to do this. I really appreciate it."
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"Yes, well, don't go spreading it around, alright? I have a strict cat-loving reputation to uphold. None of this mangy mutt business for me.
Besides, this way, I figure you might mope less and that's better for everyone."
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...Has he?
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If Hawke was waiting for an honest answer, he wasn't going to get it, Anders was already turning and heading back the way they'd come.
wrap?