[Hawke knows that she'd only witnessed a very small part of Anders' relationship with Karl, that his Tranquility would never be as harrowing--ugh, what a term--for her as it would always be for him. But she can't watch him give up on Garrett. There's a small part of her that knows she could just as easily be in his place, that giving up on him is giving up on a part of herself. And perhaps it's selfish, but she's always clung to that small bit of hope that something can be done. That this disconnect from humanity, this severing, cannot be as permanent as they say; how could the Chantry allow such a thing when judgment is supposed to be the Maker's alone? When they're all his children, of a sort. Or are supposed to be.
She knows too that it's ultimately futile, clinging to hope like this. Especially when it's so often turn apart, ripped away, taken for granted. That some tragedies are irreversible, that's what makes them tragic.
But she refuses to let Garrett end like this. A hopeless, pitiable man caught between vague vestiges of humanity and monstrosity, devoid of any salvation. And if that means she has to kick down the Maker's door herself, she'll do it. But she cannot watch everyone else she loves equally fall apart in the meantime.]
Or have we not lost enough today?
[It's a sad note she doesn't want to think about, and cannot avoid. She's careful to keep her voice from cracking, to force the sorrow back. She's had enough practice, after all. It's with a heavy-handed sigh that she finally turns back to Fenris with an expression caught between that practiced anger and the sorrow she can't manage to hold back, and offers a hand to help him up. Since it's all she can think to do, knowing he'd have a harder time accepting help over his real injury.]
I'm not asking that we pretend everything's alright. [She aims back at both of them quietly. An afterthought.] Just that we stop trying to kill each other when there are bigger things to worry about. It's too much.
[The Look puts a complete halt on any objections Fenris may have, and he takes her hand without a word, and with a proper expression of shame on his face.]
[He holds his other hand to his nose, continuing his habit of not looking either Anders or Hawke in the eye. When he does speak, his voice is low, quiet, and not directed to anyone in particular]
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AHEM!!!
[Hawke knows that she'd only witnessed a very small part of Anders' relationship with Karl, that his Tranquility would never be as harrowing--ugh, what a term--for her as it would always be for him. But she can't watch him give up on Garrett. There's a small part of her that knows she could just as easily be in his place, that giving up on him is giving up on a part of herself. And perhaps it's selfish, but she's always clung to that small bit of hope that something can be done. That this disconnect from humanity, this severing, cannot be as permanent as they say; how could the Chantry allow such a thing when judgment is supposed to be the Maker's alone? When they're all his children, of a sort. Or are supposed to be.
She knows too that it's ultimately futile, clinging to hope like this. Especially when it's so often turn apart, ripped away, taken for granted. That some tragedies are irreversible, that's what makes them tragic.
But she refuses to let Garrett end like this. A hopeless, pitiable man caught between vague vestiges of humanity and monstrosity, devoid of any salvation. And if that means she has to kick down the Maker's door herself, she'll do it. But she cannot watch everyone else she loves equally fall apart in the meantime.]
Or have we not lost enough today?
[It's a sad note she doesn't want to think about, and cannot avoid. She's careful to keep her voice from cracking, to force the sorrow back. She's had enough practice, after all. It's with a heavy-handed sigh that she finally turns back to Fenris with an expression caught between that practiced anger and the sorrow she can't manage to hold back, and offers a hand to help him up. Since it's all she can think to do, knowing he'd have a harder time accepting help over his real injury.]
I'm not asking that we pretend everything's alright. [She aims back at both of them quietly. An afterthought.] Just that we stop trying to kill each other when there are bigger things to worry about. It's too much.
B(!!!!
[He holds his other hand to his nose, continuing his habit of not looking either Anders or Hawke in the eye. When he does speak, his voice is low, quiet, and not directed to anyone in particular]
...I apologize.